Soft Days [Bucky Barnes]

🍺to the mfering howlies.

the howling commandos honestly deserved more respect in the mcu. they were a diverse group of batshit crazy men who could drink a bar dry that followed captain america and sergeant barnes around europe fighting hydra. then, during VE day when the entire world was celebrating, they drank in a dimly lit bar mourning/toasting steve n bucky. they are integral to the captain america story, and were loyal to a fault. they had all passed by the time steve and bucky reunited, but where’s a scene toasting the howlies?  

Ughhh I need this in a book

4 • Operation: The Party ... The After Party & Late Night Strolls | OPERATION: FAKING IT ...?

4 • Operation: The Party … The After Party & Late Night Strolls | OPERATION: FAKING IT …?

Description: Horrible politicians, a nosey Natasha & a very important question for Bucky during a game of Truth or Dare. Will you & Bucky finally share your feelings?

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger Reader

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Cute Bucky, swearing, discussions of injury, guns, suggestive language, 18+, there's some rubbing & thumb sucking, (no smut yet).

A/N: I have been told to not apologise for the word count so I'm not! FYI, lets just pretend that the puppies in the pictures below are the same, there are not enough photos of Sebastian Stan with puppies on the internet! Also let me know if you spot the Lana Del Rey lyric.

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Turns out Tony did manage to find a ‘publishable’ photo despite making you look through each one pointing out all the tongue shots with a running total, he stopped counting after 47, you thought it was hot & he really wasn’t impressed when you emailed a select few to yourself. Once the photos hit the media they did the news rounds, people seemed genuinely excited & it seemed to quash any rumblings of the whole thing being fake. Fake, you hated that word, no matter how it all came about your feelings towards Bucky were as real as they come & the little family you two had forged was real, every day you were happy because of him. How is that fake?

Whatever purgatory your actual relationship found itself in you decided to just let it be, you wanted more but understood if you weren’t enough for him, either way you’d enjoy the closeness & kissing whilst it lasted. You had been spending all your time with him since your dinner date, Bucky used whatever excuse he could to see you, he would climb into your bed every morning after taking Burtie out for his morning bathroom visit & he would turn up at your lab most days to hang out whilst you worked, your productivity levels were at an all-time low but being snuggled up out of view of the security camera with your super solider & pup you didn’t care, Tony brought this on himself as far as you were concerned.

There were no further kisses since the restaurant due to lack of excuses, apart from when Bucky claimed he needed some of the lip balm you had just applied, despite questioning how licking it off your lips helped his own, you didn’t complain, you may have reapplied hoping for a repeat, which of course worked like a charm.

Bucky went weak at the knees at the picture you sent & practically abandoned the weights in the gym to get to you, he had to physically restrain himself when you were waiting for him having not changed. Once you threw yourself into his arms he felt how soft the fabric was & now all he wanted to do was fall asleep with his head in your lap & have you run your fingers through his hair as he snuggled into you.

Burtie watched all the bright lights of the drive thru with fascination & wiggled in excitement on your lap at the smells invading the car, he of course charmed the pants off Debbie your server & earned himself a bonus nuggie. You & Bucky took turns eating & holding your very eager puppy trying to munch on anything in sight, you kept trying to sneak him fries but Bucky would wrestle it from you before you got to him. You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop you sulking, you just wanted Burtie to love you, so would give him anything he wanted even if it was bad for him. 

You had recently fallen into a routine of late-night snacks & walks to tire Burtie out before bed so once you got back to the tower you grabbed a jacket & you both headed to the park. Summer evenings in New York were always your favourite, the heat subsides & channels of soft breezes travel through the skyscrapers, the Super Solider with his hand joined with yours always took these moments with the reverence they deserved, although not as quiet as Wakanda, he still felt the peace he associated with his time there wash over him each night. You were his peace, he could be on a battlefield with atomic bombs being dropped from the sky & one look at you would silence all the noise, you would eclipse all the horror surrounding him & beckon him to peace like a siren calling him to the depths of the ocean, he'd drown for you.

--

In true Tony Stark fashion, he decided your third operation would be at one of his infamous parties, there would be a lot of press in attendance & that was his entire excuse under the guise that it was a birthday party for the head of robotics assistant. Everybody bought it.

Unfortunately, part of Tony’s parties always included the bit where you had to find a dress, naturally Nat insisted on joining you on the search, you usually made a day out of it, you did try & protest her tagging along because you knew Tony had arranged a fitting at a boutique rather than ‘lowering yourself to an off the rack number’. She rolled her eyes at you once you made it clear that it would be a whistle stop trip because you had a super solider warming your bed with your dog & you wanted cuddles. 

The plush interior of the boutique was in complete contrast to the grey run-down street it lived on, rich purple velvets lined the walls with chandeliers that made your head spin when you contemplated how they changed all the bulbs, maybe Tony should send Peter to assist next time they needed replacing. You were both greeted with champagne & canapes whilst the room was prepared, colourful fabrics adorned every available surface & all of the dresses on mannequins lined up were breath-taking, but completely OTT for a party held by Tony Stark. The seamstress Valentina ushered you into the fitting room & led you to the pedestal in the centre surrounded by 360 degree mirrors, after discussing fabrics, style & occasions you would need dresses for she got to work with her measuring tape & very firm fingers contorting your limbs & body to her whim whilst she shouted out numbers to her assistant busily scribbling them down.

Natasha sat on the plush tub chair sipping on champagne whilst she watched on in fascination from the moment you set foot in the place, ‘Why has Tony done all this for you just for a party?’

You knew the interrogation was inevitable, you hadn’t been avoiding her as such, but you were spending so much time with Bucky it just naturally meant less with your other friends, so with her finally getting you one on one it was bound to happen ‘You know how he is Tash, I am his first born.’

‘True, but you usually just go to a store & buy your dress on his card, something isn’t adding up, is Bucky proposing or something? Although why would Tony care about that?’

You almost spat out your champagne at the ridiculousness of her statement, one, that wasn’t remotely what was going on & two Bucky wouldn’t ever propose to you like that, it would be far too flashy & attention seeking for either of you … not that you had thought about it at all. What kind of spy was she?

‘Fuck no, why would you think that & on what planet would he ask me like that?’

‘So, you’ve thought about it, I can tell from your face, such a public setting is so not Bucky or you for that matter.’

Fuck, maybe she’s better than you gave her credit for.

As Valentina continued measuring every single inch of your body you noticed your phone light up on the table next to Nat, being the nosey friend she was, her eyes homed in on it.

‘You got a text from Bucky Bear.’ She looked disgusted at herself for saying it.

‘Whaaat? Look at that man & tell me he’s not a big teddy bear.’

‘Not to me, but I’m not you, never were.’ She was so dismissive in her tone, but it was a pointed comment with something deeper behind it.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I may have drunkenly made a pass at him once & he very politely turned me down, his reasonings were logical but I knew they were a lie, he has an obvious tell. I always thought he was just into someone else, turns out it was you.’

‘Shit Natasha, you should have said if you were into him, I would have been your wing man, it definitely wasn’t me who he was into. Maybe he didn’t know you wanted that, he’s oblivious to those kinds of things, I’d have talked to him for you, he’d listen to me.’

‘hmmm’ her eyes narrowed, ‘why are you so adamant that he wasn’t into you? He clearly was, he always followed you around like a lost puppy. You’re saying you would have set me up with Bucky, the guy you’re with now so if you had & it had worked out between us you wouldn’t be with him now’

Shit.

‘Well, not now obviously but back whenever you did.’

‘So, you didn’t like him too? What changed?’ alarm bells were going off in your head, the truth could set you free of her interrogation, maybe just not all of it.

‘No, I could see he was hot I mean I have eyes, but I’d put him in the friend category knowing he’d never go for someone like me, but sometimes you look at someone close enough & realise that they’re the best person you know. Look, I know I’m a lot, most guys just go through me to get to you or get sick of me before they get to meet you, but I never get that feeling from him, he likes being around me, I try to rein it in for his sake, but I know he’d probably tell me if I was annoying him instead of just ghosting me or dumping me in the middle of a road trip to see the world’s biggest cowboy hat at the side of the road … or whatever.’ You shrugged your shoulders hoping the little pout would work on Nat as well, so she’d drop it, baring your soul & all your hang-ups to people sure was a downer. You felt heavy, like you just wanted to curl up in Bucky’s arms, safe & sound, the realisation that he was your comfort dawned on you, what would happen when this was all over, could you still go to him?

‘Who the hell did that & why didn’t you tell me?’ oh you made her mad, not good.

‘I knew you’d go after him with Bucky & the last thing you two need with the general public is a controversy over some idiot. Tony would flip, so I kept it to myself, Tony picked me up & we went to see it.’

You didn’t see her gaze narrow at your choice of words, you didn’t seem to care about their public image the day you made Bucky break into the funfair & go on all the rides after hours, so why would you care now? You were too busy retrieving your phone & checking your message from Bucky to notice her intense focus on you, he had sent the most adorable selfie with Burtie.

Natasha watched your face light up as you bounced on your feet presumably texting Bucky back, something wasn’t adding up & she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

‘Why did you have a meeting with PR & Tony last week?’

The room suddenly started heating up, ‘Nat what are you getting at?’ deflect, deflect, deflect, you would have to come clean eventually but not yet, you liked pretending with Bucky & having him glued to your side all the time, you didn’t want it to end.

‘What is going on? I can read you like a book, you were a beam of sunshine replying to him, then I ask a question & I can see steam coming out of your ears from you thinking so hard, something is going on, you would have said something about dating him, it’s all too sudden & weird with the moving into the tower to then move in together, meetings with PR, custom gowns Tony insists you have, ice cream on tap that only you & Bucky can have ...’

You interrupted ‘I asked for the ice cream.’

‘But why would he give you that & Bucky specifically?’

‘Bucky likes Ice cream, I wanted him to have something nice. Tony gives me whatever I want’ You gestured around with your arms to your surroundings.

‘You don’t want any of this.’

‘Why do you have such a problem with me & Bucky? Are you jealous that he didn’t say yes to you?’ Low blow, you regretted it immediately, Bucky didn’t go for you either, but it might stop her.

‘I couldn’t ever compete with you so no, I just wanted someone for the night, I knew he would be a good fuck so went for it.’

You cringed at her words hating that she thought of Bucky like that … like you do. ‘There’s nothing to compete with.’

‘That, that is exactly what I mean when I say something isn’t right. You say he’d never go for someone like you, there’s nothing to compete with, all the self-deprecating shit. But he did go for you, why are you saying that?’

You shrug, ‘I guess it’s hard getting out that mentality when you’re used to every guy you date using you to get to Natasha Romanoff, to never really want you, for you to never be good enough.’ Your eyes glossed over & you tried to blink away some tears, turning on the waterworks always got Nat off your back.

‘Honey, you could ask that man to saw his arm off, get him to slap himself with it & he’d say thank you, he’s that gone for you. There is something more going on & you’re not telling me, fine, but know that you are good enough for anyone if you have deemed them good enough for yourself, because most of them aren’t even in the realm of deserving you, Bucky included. As for him not wanting you, that dude has a boner every time you’re in his lap which is 24/7 at the moment, I’m surprised he’s not fainted.’

Thankfully Valentina reappeared & put an end to Nat’s probing questions, you managed to stay on casual topics of discussions but felt so shitty for lying & accusing her of being jealous, there was literally nothing to be jealous about.

Bucky watched as you removed layer after layer of clothes stripping down to the sinfully tight shorts & t-shirt you made sure to wear for your fitting, something was on your mind, he could tell the second your smile didn’t reach your eyes when you stomped into the bedroom, once you had crawled into the warm cocoon he had maintained all morning & settled you let out a big sigh.

‘What’s wrong Bambi?’ he pulled you directly on top of him, it always thrilled you how he managed to manhandle you with such ease, he was so warm & held you firmly in place with your head tucked under his chin running his fingers up & down your spine, Burtie was curled up next to him giving you little kisses as you stroked him absentmindedly.

You shrugged, ‘Just feel like shit lying to Nat, she kept asking questions trying to find out what’s going on, she saw we went into a meeting with the PR.’

‘What lies have you actually told her?’ He really didn’t want to suggest letting the others in on the mission because then he’d have no excuse to pull you on to his lap all the time, he wouldn’t be able to stare at you all the time without anyone thinking he was being a creep. Once he worked out how to ask you to be his girl then it wouldn’t matter but for now keeping up with the façade in front of your friends meant he got the maximum time with you.

‘None technically, but I did accuse her of being jealous that you’re with me which is so dumb because you’re .. you’re not really.’ Your sentence tapered off at the end, you hated saying out loud despite it being true.

‘I dunno Doll, sort of feels like you’re with me right now.’ He squeezed you & placed a kiss on your head, ‘Why would she be jealous?’

‘Because she hit on you once.’

He chuckled at that, ‘I don’t think she did.’

‘Yeah she did, she said she tried to sleep with you because she thought you’d be a good…’ you stuttered saying it to him.

‘A good what Bambi?’

‘A good … fuck, you didn’t know she was trying to sleep with you?’ well that explains why he turned her down, you thought, he didn’t even know she was hitting on him. 

‘No.’

‘After all this I can have a word with her about it … if you want.’

‘Why would I want that?’

‘Dunno, Nat is like the ideal woman, most guys go for her or try to anyway.’

‘Natasha isn’t the one I want моя любовь (my love)’

‘oh, ok.’

‘Any way enough about her, you’ve not told any lies so don’t feel bad. She’s being too nosey. How was your fitting?’

‘Good, there was this fabric that I chose that will make me look like C3PO.’

‘You’d look amazing in a paper bag красивая’(beautiful)

‘Thanks Bucky Bear, can you believe she said you weren’t a big teddy bear too.’

‘I’m not, just for you Doll.’

You looked up at him ‘Just for me?’

‘You think I’m like this with anyone else?’

You shrugged your shoulders.

‘Well I’m not, only for you.’

You beamed at him, ‘If I asked you to chop off you arm & slap yourself with it would you do it?’

He laughed & did his nose scrunch thing that you loved so much, ‘where did that come from Bambi?’

‘Just something Nat said.’

He looked down at you as you looked up at him, your head still resting against his chest, ‘yeah I probably would, please don’t ask though.’

‘Never.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

You leaned upwards & nuzzled your nose into his jaw, Bucky held you tighter & leaned down to kiss you delicately, there wasn’t a camera or excuse in sight.

‘we should watch a movie, have you eaten?’

You were tucked back into his neck trying to stifle the smile spreading on your face, you were tempted to wiggle your hips to see if the other theory Nat had was accurate. 

---

Better late than never, right? The party was in full swing when you finally arrived, getting glammed up for an event felt almost like a workout with The Black Widow, you rejected Tony’s offer with great offence when he offered you a ‘team’ to help you, like you needed a team. Rude. You had hair removed, moisturised, preened, curled, makeup’d yourself to within an inch of your life, Valentina you discovered understood the assignment perfectly, the dress was stunning, a metallic gold almost chainmail type fabric sewn in a simple silhouette that fit you like a glove, dare you say you looked good. 

The black glittery floor sparkled like the night’s sky underneath the guests who had already taken to the dance floor, the up-tempo jazz number being played by the band complimented the buzzing atmosphere perfectly, the waiters were carrying trays of drinks amongst the sea of people & Tony Stark was lapping up all the attention of his sycophant yes men & the press hanging on his every word. A successful soiree in the eyes of Iron Man, he just needed the special guest to arrive, he had half an eye on the stairs most of the night so let out a relieved breath when you finally graced the room with your presence.

It was easy to spot your Super Solider at the bar when you scanned the crowd, he stood out in all his glory, tall, dark & handsome. The black suit he wore was tailored to his shape wonderfully, highlighting his broad shoulders & tapering down to his slim waist, whilst his trousers were strained from his gloriously thick thighs, topping it all off his hair was slicked back showing off every inch of his pretty face, he had you melting into a puddle on the floor, he looked so fucking hot. 

When he spotted you, his eyes lit up & a broad smile crossed his face, he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen, a claim that Bucky would dispute until the day he died seeing you in your gold sparkly dress, curled bouncy hair & flawlessly beautiful smile, you looked like a fucking Oscar. This was the perfect excuse to kiss you again, there were cameras everywhere & although he would have to control his hands & cock he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to connect his lips with yours again, he praised the lord you weren’t wearing red lipstick so that he could kiss you silly all night without ruining your makeup.

He made his way towards the bottom of the stairs where you met him, he took your hand in his & placed a kiss on your knuckles.

‘Hi Bambi.’

‘Hi Bucky.’

He was right in front of you as you stood on the first step, you were at eye level with the gorgeous man for a change thanks to the step & exceptionally high heels that you couldn’t wait to ditch, his arm snaked around you holding you firmly & as per the norm his lips were at your ear.

‘You look absolutely breath-taking Doll.’ You pulled back a little, so that you could see him in all his glory.

‘Thank you, you look so handsome.’ His scrunchy face smile made you want to cry it was so sweet, you couldn’t resist pinching his chin & as his hands brought you closer to him his eyes were focused on your lips.

‘I think we should kiss now … for the cameras.’

Nodding eagerly at him you hadn’t even noticed all of the eyes that had been focused on you since your arrival let alone the cameras pointing in your direction.

Your lips met, somewhat respectfully for a public place, you’d lost count of how many kisses you had shared at this point but each one somehow felt different than the last, this one was long, tender with just a smidgen of desperation conveying how much you both missed being connected to each other, you decided right then & there that the right amount of time between kisses was 0.165 seconds not days like the torture you had just endured.

Tony rolled his eyes after he witnessed the first kiss & you clearly giving Bucky an excuse for another the way he went in on you for the next, he did believe you when you said nothing had happened, but he felt more uneasy at that, than if you had. You two were oblivious to the feelings you shared & he wanted to knock your heads together to get you to see sense.

Having remembered you were in a public setting you retracted your tongue from Bucky’s mouth & with his firm arm around your waist he plucked you off the step, turned around & placed you on the floor with a kiss on the nose. He brushed his hand down your arm & weaved his fingers through yours then headed towards the bar with you in tow where you friends were gathered.

‘Lady Tiny, you look simply wonderful tonight.’ 

‘Thanks sparkles, you too.’ You reached up to Thor to give him a hug but with Bucky not letting go of your hand it was an awkward half hug & he made sure to swiftly pull you back to his vicinity after.

He practically growled ‘Let me get you a drink Doll.’ into your ear

‘I’ll have a watermelon paloma please.’ You waited at the bar whilst your drink was being prepared, Bucky snaked his arms around you & leaned his head on your shoulder. If people didn’t know you were taken before Bucky sure was making it obvious, your feminist ideologies regarding possessive men were being firmly overruled by your inner cavewoman wanting him to take you right there on the dancefloor so everyone knew who belonged to. Not that he would.

Even with a Bucky shaped barnacle attached to you, you were enjoying catching up with your friends & wider colleagues that you didn’t get to see very often, Tony interrupting the festivities irritated you no end, ‘Bonnie, Clyde you’re with me.’ You rolled your eyes at the thought of being paraded round the higher ups like you were a show pony, unfortunately it was part of the gig, your least favourite part but you plastered on a smile & held out your hand to Senator Graham. 

Instead of shaking he went in for the kiss, his damp lips on your knuckles made you shudder & Bucky was practically on the verge of swinging for him before you retracted your hand, whipping it on Bucky’s suit in disgust, his arm was quick to secure you to his side.

You knew politicians were awful people, but this guy was the worst, anything that came out of his mouth had your skin crawling & your eye twitching with rage, how Tony could associate with these monsters was beyond you, he did look horrified at some of the statements but the Senator somehow managed to surpass the previous one in tactlessness each time.

Unfortunately, he decided to be bold with a question pointed at you ‘I’m just curious, all eyes are on you this evening, you’re an avenger, I’m told highly intelligent, you could have any guy you wanted. Why him?’

Bucky was squeezing your hand trying to get you to focus on him & not the rage you felt was currently on the brink of spewing out.

You gritted your teeth trying to form some words that didn’t get you arrested, ‘You speak about him as though he’s not here, not human?’

‘Some would think an assassin who was responsible for the deaths of countless people isn’t.’

‘Doll, it’s fine. It was nice meeting you sir.’ He sounded so defeated & so incredibly belittled.

‘Could you be ruder to my team Graham?’ Tony was mortified that someone would speak about Bucky that way, yes, he had his issues at first, but it didn’t take long for him to recognise that Bucky wasn’t the man that killed his parents, he was a victim just as much as his parents were.

‘No, it’s not Bucky.’ You narrowed your eyes at Senator Graham ‘this man is without doubt the bravest person I have ever met, he’d lay down his life for me without question, hell he’d do it for you because he’s inherently a good man. He was tortured for 70 years because he was left behind by his comrades, presumed dead & I can’t imagine how many times he wished he were when Hydra we’re breaking him, I’ve read the files, I know how long it took them. He’s stronger than me & I have no doubt he’s stronger than you, you would have snapped like a twig. So, lets see, brave & strong, he’s caring, loyal, he protects me & let’s face it the most gorgeous man in the room, he makes me laugh & he puts up with me. He's worth a million of you. Also, FYI, the serum enhances EVERYTHING.’ You wiggled your brows whilst Bucky looked proud of himself, god he loved you so fucking much, it was bursting out of him at this point.

‘Night Graham it was a displeasure to meet you. ’You grabbed Bucky & walked away, his arms were around you & he pressed himself to you firmly with his head at the back of your neck.

‘You didn’t have to say all that Bambi.’

‘Yes, I did, there wasn’t one single lie in what I said … & I just assumed the serum thing.’

‘I was already enhanced before the serum darlin’ He pressed further into you & you lost all feeling in your legs. ‘Come dance with me sweetheart.’

You felt like you were floating, fuck living in reality, you could just stay in this version of your life where you were Bucky’s girl & he made your stomach explode with butterflies at every touch.

You danced & drank & laughed & kissed until you were being dragged upstairs by the others, neither you or Bucky wanted the event to end because you had free reign to be with each other to your heart’s desire, all the excuses were lined up every time ready for your lips to meet.

---- 

The lounge lights were dimmed when you all gathered back together having changed from your formal clothes into your comfies, you had some fluffy socks, ribbed leggings & Bucky’s hoodie on, all he wanted to do was feel what was underneath when he saw you in it, he suspected nothing. Although people vied to be invited to one of Tony’s prestigious parties very few knew about the after parties & even fewer were invited, this was strictly reserved for the team & Burtie of course.

It was more like a family debrief post party than a party, everyone would relax, share some drinks & gossip about who hooked up earlier in the night, occasionally it would get wild with drinking games & it would seem Natasha was up for the latter this particular evening.

‘Roll up, roll up, roll up, shots for us mortals, Asguardian Ale for the God & Super soldiers, spring water for the puppy, it’s truth or dare time.’

Your eyes immediately found Bucky’s, shit. He had taken a seat on the armchair in front of you & pulled you onto his lap, ‘It’s ok Bambi, relax.’ he snuggled you further into him & brushed some hair out of your face. 

Of course, the first spin landed on him, Natasha seemed to take up the maestro role with vigour, ‘Ok Buckaroo, what changed things with Bambi? What moment did you think ‘I want to fuck her’ rather than be her friend?’  You rolled your eyes & didn’t miss the shift of legs under you at the question.

‘Seriously Nat?’ Steve was blushing at her terminology.

‘What? I want to know what he loves about my friend, I haven’t approved of this yet so there’s a few things I need to know.’

You knew what she was trying to do, it was sort of sweet, but Nat didn’t do sweet, so you knew there was an ulterior motive to it.

‘What do I love about her, do you have a notepad? What changed? I opened my eyes one day & saw someone who I would do anything for, no matter how ridiculous.’

Without pause Natasha stated matter of factly ‘We’d all do that for her.’ 

‘Hear hear.’ You smiled at your friends, family all raising their glasses & lingered on Tony for everything he’d done for you.

‘Ok, I’d kill anyone of you to save her, without a second thought.’

Her eyebrow shot up ‘Steve included?’

With a single nod he confirmed ‘Steve included.’ Your eyes found Steve across the coffee table & saw the fondness he held for his friend, there was no malice in the look, he almost looked proud of him. Suck it Rogers, you’ve been replaced.

Bucky bent forward & span the bottle, being that you were sat in his lap you folded over as he did it, his broad chest pressed against you & he couldn’t help peppering kisses up your spine as you both moved back into your previous position. You shifted your legs desperate for some friction which Bucky noticed & as he guided you back to his chest his hands made their way underneath your jumper & he held your waist, the contrast in temperature between his hands set your skin on fire.

The bottle span all the way around the table typically landing on you.

You giggled knowing Bucky would be asking you the question ‘Truth’

He playfully tickled your sides whilst he came up with his question ‘What do you love most about me Bambi?’

‘Yawn, boring. What does Bucky like in bed?’ you knew Nat would be after salacious details.

You smirked knowing how annoyed she would be with your answer ‘Movies, pizza & cuddles.’ You could feel Bucky nodding his head behind you laughing at you outsmarting the former assassin.

‘Correct answer kid.’ Tony doffed an imaginary hat to you & you twirled your hand to him like you were both Victorian aristocrats. 

You tipped your head to the side to answer the original question ‘& the thing I love most about you is how safe & cherished I feel whenever we’re together.’

As you leant forward towards the bottle Bucky held you in a tighter grip, you turned back to him & the look in his eyes took your breath away, dare you think it was love? He placed a languid kiss on your lips, softer than any kiss you had shared, so relaxed & natural as if you had been kissing him all your life. When his grip loosened slightly you wriggled out of his grasp & span the bottle, again it went past all the other players & landed on Bucky.

You rolled your eyes ‘Is this thing rigged?’

Quick as a flash Natasha answered arousing further suspicions ‘Nope.’

Having replaced his hands underneath your hoodie higher up than before you could feel your heart rate picking up, he nuzzled into the back of your neck & in his deep quiet voice he made his choice.

‘Truth Bambi.’

You wiggled on his lap in thought, ‘Mmmmm’ his grip on you tightened & as he removed one hand from your side he grazed your nipple with his vibranium finger, your breath hitched & your thighs clenched together from the sensation. He brushed your hair off one shoulder, so he had some available skin to place his lips & his hand returned to your body. If he moved it higher he could cup your flesh fully, you were desperate for this man & as much as you loved sharing a bed you wanted a night to yourself & your imagination to work out these frustrations.

Sam interrupted your sinful thoughts with one of his own.

‘How many rooms have y’all christened?’ The whole room practically groaned.

‘None.’ You answered for Bucky.

‘Take a shot, you lyin’.’ He was gleefully pointing at the pair of you.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘I just want to know what not to sit on.’

‘I told you none, I’m a good girl’ you felt Bucky shift underneath you & you couldn’t help a glance back to him, if you weren’t already turned on, the look on his face would have you dripping in an instant. A quick flick of his wrist & the bottle finally landed on someone else leaving you & Bucky a private moment.

He whispered into your neck ‘What does Sam’s question mean Bambi?’

‘He was asking how many rooms have we had sex in’

‘Oh’ he couldn’t help thinking that answer would be changing very quickly if you looked at him like that again, he pulled you back to his chest & wrapped both arms around you & you rested yours against his, he was trying to control himself but with you sat directly on his cock constantly wiggling around it was proving a challenge.

The game carried on with some other participants in the next few rounds, you discovered Thor cried when he watched Moana twice, Bruce once went full hulk during sex when she decided that choking him was a good idea, thankfully the woman was fine, the first time Steve had sex after being defrosted he lasted 18 seconds & Scott has a teddy bear he sleeps with every night called Mr Cuddles. You were enjoying your reprieve until it landed back on you. The bottle giveth & the bottle taketh away all dignity.

Hesitantly you grumbled ‘Truth’

Natasha didn’t hesitate ‘How did you get shot?’

Your eyes widened fuck ‘Ok, dare’ you stuck out your tongue. 

‘Ok Bambi, I dare you to tell Bucky & the group how you were shot.’ Crumbs, damn those street smarts, her smug look was your least favourite, only Tony & Nat knew how you were shot & you made them promise not to tell anyone else so this humiliation would be worse than just confessing it to Bucky, everyone would know. You were sure they’d have a secret vote to kick you off the team after this, Bucky would be on your side because duhh, Tony too but you doubted there would be any more when they realised what a dumb ass you were.

‘No fair.’ You pouted & crossed your arms, you could feel Bucky’s thumb stroking your scarred skin under your hoodie & comforting you as always. Ugh you loved him so much.

‘You can tell me sweetheart, I might have to hunt them down afterwards & teach them a lesson, but I won’t think any less of you. Promise.’

You turned to him to look him in his eyes ‘Promise?’

‘I promise darlin’’ he hooked his pinky finger in yours.

‘Ok fine.’ Bucky sat you both upright with his chin resting on your shoulder, he held you tightly trying to reassure you that he would be right here with you, although he would have to control his overwhelming need to find whoever did it & harm them. 

‘So, I was in the field when it happened.’ You recalled. ‘On a mission with Tony & Nat doing some reconnaissance, it was a typical hydra hideout at first sight, so I hacked the door mechanism to get us in the base & we quickly realised what there were agents still active, lots of them’ Bucky’s heart rate picked up at the mention of Hydra, he placed a kiss on your shoulder in attempt to self soothe, he thought that he couldn’t hate them more but to know they hurt the woman he loved was triggering his rage. 

Before continuing you reached to the back of Bucky’s neck with your hand to play with his hair, you noticed how tense he got when you mentioned his former captives, ‘& you all know I don’t really do combat type missions, so I was a bit nervous right because I was armed & I hate guns. So, we’re there all guns blazing or ‘flickering’ for me as Nat kept saying shooting the idiots, Tony kept telling me off every time I shot an agent which was pissing me off.’ You narrowed your eyes at him.

‘Kid, you kept shouting ‘that’s for Bucky mother fukka’ & giving them the finger, it was a tad distracting.’

Bucky squeezed you tightly, smiling from ear to ear, you were an actual angel, you glanced back at him smiling knowing how much he would have loved you doing that despite it giving away your position to anyone within earshot.

‘Anyway, I was on fire right, pow one guy down, pow another, I tripped over one of them but that was ok, my knee kind of hurt but hey they didn’t expect someone on the floor so pow got one in the ankle.’

‘I mean it was kind of amazing, she was like a beached whale wriggling about with a gun shooting anything in sight.’ Nat laughed recalling the memory.

 ‘Firstly, whale? ouch, I prefer to think that I looked like an elegant mermaid. But yeah, I deserve a medal of honour or something for that day, anyway so we swept the base, I got a few more ‘James Buchanan Barnes sends his regards.’ pow’s in, no finger, kept those ones classy.’ Bucky was giggling behind you, he could listen to you talk all day, you could read him the fucking dictionary & he would be in heaven but your stories no matter how wild & long were always his favourite.

‘So yeah, we completed the mission, got the information & then headed back to the quinjet.’

‘Wait, so how did you get shot?’ Steve looked at his whits end, he rarely listened to you recalling missions due to all the tangents you found yourself going off on, so waiting for the actual information was a massive test of his patience.

‘Oh, so we were walking back to the quinjet right & Tony was blasting some AC/DC so naturally I started air guitaring … with my gun, turns out the safety was off & I shot myself.’ You shrugged, you felt Bucky shaking with laughter whilst your friends were uncontrollably laughing at you, Scott actually fell on the floor. You pouted, ‘It hurt’. Bucky managed to stifle his laughter pulling you off him so that you were standing between his legs, he slowly lifted his hoodie & gently placed a soft kiss on your scar.

‘Better?’ 

You were rendered speechless & could only muster a nod before he pulled you back to his lap, Tony was watching you both thinking you were idiots hoping the next time it landed on either of you he would force a confession from you both.

-

You were more than drunk, everyone was feeling the shots & Ale, Bucky was particularly handsy & having ventured even higher north under your hoodie after discovering his assumption was correct & that you were braless his hands were almost cupping you, teetering on it, painfully so. Somehow the game hadn’t descended into complete chaos, but Tony had stormed up to his apartment after a particularly embarrassing question you had asked muttering something about how he didn’t get to ask his question. Like you weren’t going to bring up the knowledge that he subscribed to the onlyfeet website, you had acquired the information & had been sitting on it since seeing his credit card bill when Pepper was questioning your $10,000 donation to a petition to bring out a mustard topped hot dog emoji. She thought it was an unreasonable expense, you argued it was vital because that was Bucky’s hotdog order & he got mad with the sole ketchup option. Perfectly reasonable you thought & guess what, there is now a hotdog emoji with mustard, you’re welcome world.

The bottle landed on Bucky again, the group seemed to have run out of steam with their probing questions about the two of you, you realised that you’d never actually told them you were dating Bucky, they just assumed, so you hadn’t actually told them a single lie at any point, Bucky said the moving in one so every question you answered was answered truthfully but the question on your lips had been gnawing at you for days, chipping away at you in the back of your mind whenever Bucky held you or kissed you, it needed answering & you were just drunk enough to ask it. 

You were suddenly shy, you wouldn’t ever ask it without some form of alcohol involved for fear of humiliation, but you hesitantly turned to him, ‘k I’ve got a question, but gotta be private.’

You looked over you shoulder at Natasha winking in her direction, you knew she would allow it if she thought you were whispering a filthy sex related question, it wasn’t but you didn’t want anyone else hearing what you were so desperate to ask.

You straightened up, slightly wobbly trying to balance yourself on Bucky’s leg, when he worked out that you were trying to face him he picked you up by your waist, turned you around so you were straddling his thighs, he sat up to meet you upright & you draped your arms over his shoulder, his hands pulled you forward with your butt cheeks, your centre dragging deliciously against him in the process & your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

His lips found your neck & he slowly dragged them across your skin to your ear, you definitely were moving your hips & for once he wasn’t stopping you ‘I don’t remember sayin truth doll.’ His dominating tone had you tingling, you couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be on your knees for him whilst he told you exactly what to do & how he liked it doing.

You held his face in your hands to look him in the eyes, he could see the desperation in your eyes for whatever you wanted to ask him, you whispered ‘Say it.’ 

‘Truth.’

You leaned in placing your mouth at his ear, his arms protectively wrapped around you, he knew what you were about to say was only for him & he didn’t want anyone else in your bubble. He knew it wouldn’t be anything rude from the overexaggerated way you winked at Nat, you were so smart you could play the best of them like a fiddle even when drunk.

‘Bucky Bear?’

‘Yes Bambi?’

‘Do you think .. that… if..’

‘Ask me sweetheart, you can ask me anything.’

 You gulped & let out a shaky breath, now or never.

‘If … if I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?’

He pulled you away from his ear, your head clutched in his hands, he should have been jumping for joy, you literally asking to be his girl, the thing he was too afraid to do but why would you ask it like that? How could you think he would want anyone but you, that you weren’t pretty enough? He could see your eyes glossed over & he didn’t hesitate to pull your face to his & smash his lips to yours, you could hear everyone whooping & hollering at the show you were giving them as he put everything he had into kissing you, pulling you as close as you could get to him. 

‘Good practice kiss.’ You whispered against his lips.

‘That wasn’t a practice Bambi.’ He followed up with a tender kiss before he rested his head against yours. ‘You are the dumbest smart person I’ve ever known, been trying to show you that I want you to be my girl & that I fucking adore you, you know that Bambi?’

You shook you head as he ran his thumb over your lip, ‘you’re perfect, too good for me, too god damn sweet.’ He softly parted your lips, pushing his thumb into your mouth, you slowly latched around it, taking it deeper & sucking it, his eyes fluttered shut & he swore he was about to cum in his joggers just from this. Thankfully the others had lost interest & you two were left in your own little world, no one could see what you were doing with your body blocking the view of the fucked out Super Soldier you were currently sat on. ‘Fuck Bambi, you gonna be my good girl?’ with his vibranium hand he pulled you back & fourth on his lap, you could feel his hard length rubbing against your folds, the friction felt like every nerve in your body was being set alight. His eyes were dark watching you suck on his thumb & writhe on his lap looking so fucking fuckable.

You nodded as his lips were back at your neck trailing kisses up to your ear, you let out a quiet moan which was music to Bucky’s ears, he wanted to know what you sounded like when you were cumming on his cock, in his mouth, on his fingers.

‘You think I’d be this hard for someone who wasn’t the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, someone who makes my heart stop every time they look at me, someone who I have to tear myself away from at times just to not fuck them senseless every second of the day.’ He pulled his thumb away from your mouth, his hand stroked up your side underneath his hoodie, fuck he loved you wearing his clothes, they moved higher & higher until he was cupping your flesh, his damp thumb toying with your nipple.

‘Well you do Bambi, my sweet baby girl, you’re mine.’

At those words your lips were melded together again, with his prosthetic palm firmly against your back he stood you both up from the sofa, ‘Bedtime Bambi.’ Without thought your legs were crossed behind his back, you plucked Burtie out of Scotts’s arms when Bucky lowered you to collect your puppy before marching out of the party, completely unashamed of the obvious erection he was sporting.

With Bucky pinning you against a wall every 10 steps to kiss some part of you, the walk back to your room was slow, his stubble stung your skin & the thought of it doing the same thing between your legs made you grind down on him the whole way. 

He slowly lowered you to the bed once you put Burtie down for the night, his whole body covered you & the combination of warmth & pressure had you in a trance, you always felt so safe with him, the prospect of your relationship changing after tonight didn’t worry you, it excited you like nothing else. You were his, he was yours.

He managed some sentences between kisses ‘We can do anything tonight, we’ve both been drinking, I’m not that kind of guy.’

You were so turned on by him you couldn’t help but sulk, you didn’t need to be sober to know this was what you wanted. You were protesting in your head trying to find a way to say it without sounding desperate.

‘Don’t you dare pout Bambi, thought you were going to be a good girl, my good girl’

You whispered, ‘I am your good girl.’

‘Then you need to know that it’s killing me to not fuck that pout off your face, to show you everything I’ve dreamt of doing whilst touching my cock every god damn minute of the day that I’m not with you.’ He rolled his hips into you hitting you right on your centre, the moan you exhaled could send Bucky to the grave it was so sinful.

‘That’s what you’ve been doing?’

‘Yes darlin’’ he leaned back in with a tender kiss.

‘That’s hot’

‘Glad you think so, do you touch yourself & think of me?’

‘Yes… all the time’

‘Fuck, I shouldn’t have asked that. Let me take you out on a date, one I can plan. Just you & me, then I’ll bring you back to my place & fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight.’

‘Please touch me Bucky.’

‘Oh I love the sound of you begging for me … ‘

‘Please Sargent.’ You sounded desperate, you were desperate feeling this man’s length pressed against you.

‘Fuck Bambi.’ His resolve was crumbling quickly but he needed to do right by you, he had the rest of his life to have sex with you so one more night wouldn’t kill either of you, when it did happen he wanted to take his time, make sure you remember every touch every word he said when he worshiped you like you deserved. He doubled down & pulled away.

‘Let’s get some sleep darlin’, I’ll still be here tomorrow & every night after if you’ll take me.’

Your eyelids were getting heavier & you nodded, maybe you had more drinks than you thought. He shimmied you out of your leggings & you managed to get Bucky’s hoodie off over your head leaving you just in your panties.

He took the sight of you in, ‘Fuck, you’re perfect.’ He couldn’t help his hand reaching out & kneading your chest, toying with your nipples, he wanted to put his mouth around them.

‘Your turn.’ You felt so shy saying it, you knew nothing was happening tonight but seeing each other so bare was thrilling for you both, to be able to lie in each other’s arms completely exposed felt even more intimate than having sex would.

You watched in awe as Bucky stripped down to his boxers, ‘You’re so beautiful.’ You gently caressed the scarred skin, tracing down to his abs, his breath hitched the lower you went & it took all your strength not to touch his cock.

He pulled back the covers & waited for you to get into the bed first, once you had situated yourself he slid in behind you & cocooned you with the blanket making sure every inch of you was covered. He was still hard & you could feel him pressed against you, a wiggle of your hips had him groaning.

‘Bambi.’ His warning came out has a half moan half whine, it was exhilarating turning this big man into a moaning mess behind you.

‘What? I’m just getting comfy.’ You continued wiggling & toying with him, his hands held your hips & you could feel him pushing his into yours.

‘Sleep time, don’t make me go to my room.’ You ceased your movements & giggled at his very hollow threat.

‘I’ll be good. Promise.’ One last wiggle & you shut your eyes smiling as Bucky groaned behind you.

‘Night Bucky.’ 

‘Night Bambi.’

A/N: That hot dog petition is a real online petition!! Thank you for reading, your comments & feedback always make my day!!

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when you just finished one of the most beautiful fics ever written and you see that the author has a masterlist full of other fics

I’m just like tv static but a girl

I mean wow. I just. wow.

ₚᵣₒbₗₑₘ ₛₒₗᵥₑᵣ

what if fantasies could really come to life?

warnings: sex fantasies, oral (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), heaving makeouts, and prob more let me know what I'm missing <3

"god, please James, feel's so good," I whine, head falling back against the back of the couch. My fingers dance through the short strands of his hair, eyes fluttering down to meet his lustful gaze between my legs. I bite my lip, relishing in the feeling of his skillful tongue against my sopping core. His hands are gentle, yet firm as they keep my thighs open and atop his shoulders. His tongue moves quicker against my folds as legs start to shake violently around his head. "fuck! please, please, pl-"

"Y/n? You okay?" Bucky asks, staring me down. I blink and refocus, stirring the pasta sauce that was tempted to burn. He remains leaned on the counter, setting down his beer. "Yeah sorry," I sigh, leaning over to grab some spices. I open and sprinkle a little into the pot one by one, enjoying the hum of music in the background. It was always easy like this--with Bucky. Silence was never awkward, and often enough words wouldn't need to be spoken to know how one another felt. But this time? This time he definitely wouldn't know what was going on inside my head. I hope. "Do you want me to take over?" He asks, walking to the other side of me to pour the pasta in the boiling water. God, he really is that innocent isn't he? I could think of a few way he could take over but "it's fine, I got it." With a smile on my face. He returns the small smile, something that rarely slipped out. Bucky was closed off, which would make since after everything -- but not so much with me. Before, when we first decided to share an apartment because he needed better decoration skills, and I needed someone to make sure it was organized, he would only force a smile if he had to. But on nights like these, when it was just the two of us after a long day-- his smile felt like it was reserved for me. Maybe that's what started my fantasies in the first place.

He grabs the pasta, pouring it into the boiling water. He moves effortlessly around the kitchen, grabbing a spatula and a strainer. I watch him in awe, moving my spoon in slow circles in the sauce. When he returns to the pot, his hand flex's has he stirs, the sight making me drool, literally. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, clearing my throat. I focus on the sauce, and turn the heat off. I grab a spoon and dip it in before bringing it to my mouth, taking in the flavors. "Is it good?" He asks, glancing over at me. I have to look away, those blue eyes making me weaker. "Yeah, you wanna try?" I dip the spoon in again as to give it to him. He takes it and brings it to his mouth. I groan internally, dirty thoughts clouding my senses. He hums in approval, setting the spoon down in the sink. "Delicious," he says, stirring the pot of pasta. I swallow hard, clenching my thighs together. I mutter a small thanks, grabbing some plates and forks. He pours the sauce in the pasta, glancing over his shoulder as I set down our plates on the island bar. He leans over the counter, placing portions on the plates as I fix up a salad. All of this was in silence, a comfortable one for him, but aching and desperate for me. Dinner was the same. My chewing came to a stop when I looked over at his beautiful form, he wasn't sloppy at all when he ate. He was careful, deliberate, savoring every bite. And so what if my mind started to wander? It's not my fault really, he's such a tease.

He kisses me, lifting me up onto the island, helping my anxious hands unbutton my shirt. "Relax, sweetheart. We got all night," he whispers into my ear, vibranium hand snaking down to rub my covered clit. I whine into his mouth, wrapping my arm around his neck to bring him impossibly closer, the other clenching white knuckles against the cool marble. I kiss him feverishly, grasping at his shirt, hair, everything. He gets my shirt unbuttoned, throwing it on the floor. He helps me shimmy my panties off, hands sliding up my legs, waist-

"What are you thinking about?" Bucky's voice brings me out of my daze, and suddenly I realized that I was just in a button up shirt and panties. I swallow my bite and glance at him. He's finished already, casually sipping a beer. Now this? This was too much. My thighs clench together again, which didn't seem to go unnoticed by the man beside me. "You ask a lot of questions," I say cooly, sipping my drink. "You never ask Sam this many questions," I state. His eyebrow raises as he sets his drink down. "Do you only talk to Dr. Raynor?" He asks, a playful smirk on his face. "No." Maybe I answered that too quickly. Or too harshly. Or maybe both. "Sorry," I say quickly, standing up to gather the plates. I sigh as I set them in the sink, washing out my cup. He comes up behind me and takes a plate. I make room for him, setting the cup in the dishwasher. "I don't like talking to Dr. Raynor," I finally say, picking up a fork. "Why?" As his voice always been this raspy? "Because I don't feel like talking about my problems with her. It's not like she can fix them." I say with a huff, taking his plate to put in the washer. He hums, finishing off the other utensils. "You can talk to me you know," he says, turning off the water. I exhale sharply, "I already told you about...my problems." I groan, going to sit on the couch. "Yeah, that's why I know you've got something else on your mind." He says with a smile, going to sit in the armchair. I roll my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest. His gaze stays locked on my figure, blue eyes searching for mine. I bite my lip, clenching my thighs together. "I don't wanna talk about it." I say quietly, looking out the window. It's silent for a moment, the faint sound of the dishwasher filling the apartment.

"Why don't you show me then?" He says calmly, sipping his beer. My head whips back to him, my feet returning to the floor. "What?" I gasp, giving him a confused look. He smirks at me, setting his beer bottle down on the coffee table. "Just come here," he says with a small smile. I swallow, slowly standing up. I eye him suspiciously as he keeps his eyes on my face. I walk to stand before him, crossing my hands over my chest. "Look, I told you I'm fin-" he pulls my gently down into his lap, his ever piercing gaze still locked onto my eyes. I let out a shaky breath, uncrossing my hands to stabilize myself on his shoulders. God, I should have worn more than just panties, because in this position? Fuck, their soaking. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He says quietly, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. My face flushes, eyes avoiding his gaze. "Why do you do this to me?" I ask, eyes meeting his gaze again. He gives me an innocent look, placing his hands on my waist. "Gonna have to be specific sweetheart," he grins, vibranium hand shifting with a mechanic whirr as his hold tightens. I roll my eyes, biting my lip. God, I want to kiss him so bad. "I don't wanna look like...I'm obsessed or something, you know?" I say quietly, hands firm on his shoulders. He smiles at me, hand reaching up to caress my cheek. "Who would think that?" He asks, taking my hand in his vibranium one to bring it to his lips. He kisses the back of my hand softly, eyes trained on mine. "You know, you've got quite the staring problem," I smile. "So I've been told," he responds, with a playful look in his eyes. I hum in agreement, swallowing hard. I sigh, tongue poking out to wet my lips. Before I can even get a word out, he steals the words right out of my mouth. "Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you," he says, hand trailing up to the back of my neck.

I let out a small gasp, hands reaching around to play with his hair. "You want to kiss me?" I ask quietly, staring into his blue eyes. He smiles, cupping the back of my neck to bring me closer. I hesitate, just for a moment to consider the consequences. As I leaned in all the way, I couldn't really think of any. The kiss started off slow, like the moment was being savored. It felt like a daydream, I was kissing my roommate, James Bucky Barnes and fuck did it feel amazing. And then, like he became impatient and desperate, the kiss turned feverish. Tongue dancing, teeth grazing, swollen lips kind of kissing. I moaned, no, actually whined into the kiss, leaning back as to force him forward, the ever-present bulge pressing right onto my excuse for panties. He gently bites down on my bottom lip, pulling away as it releases back with a soft pop! I let out labored breaths, the need in my stomach growing by the second. "Has it ever occurred, that I may be obsessed with you?" he says, eyes full of lust. My lips tremble, wetness threating to seep through my panties. "Fuck," I whine, reconnecting my lips with his. My fingers find my buttons, shakily unclasping each one. Swiftly, he replaces my fingers with his own, kissing down my jaw. I moan softly, biting my lip. He gets it unbuttoned, slowly, torturously, sliding it down my arms, keeping eye contact all the while. I sigh as it hits the floor, hands finding themselves on his thighs. Bra-less. How could I have forgotten I went bra-less too? It's like I was begging to get fucked.

My nipples harden at the sudden coolness, goosebumps rising on my skin. He leans down, pursing his lips together. He lets out a gentle blow of air over them, a sharp exhale leaving my throat. "Sensitive," he mutters, hands reaching up to cup my breasts. The sensations were different- right one under the cool touch of metal, the left warm from the flesh of human. "Shit, that feels so good James," I groan, eyes meeting where he touched. His soft lips connect with the hardened bud, a gasp leaving my lips. My thighs try to clamp together, however his own made sure I couldn't as my slick seeped through my panties. He lets his tongue swirl around the bud before sucking gently, letting it go with a pop! as he moves to the next one. Impatiently, my hand reaches down to his throbbing bulge, helping him relieve some pressure. He groans, kissing up my chest to my collarbone. My fingers find his jeans, undoing the button. He kisses up my jaw, softly sucking at the skin below my ear. Unzipping his jeans, he stops my hand with his. "Let me look at you first," he says, leaning back. I bite my lip, taking a deep breath. "Want me to take those off?" He asks, fingers slipping under the sides of my panties. I nod, standing up, in between his legs. He leans forward, leaving kisses down my thigh has he slides them off antagonizingly slow. I step out of them, shivering as he places them on the edge of the chair. He sets his hands on my waist, slowly spinning me around before pulling me back down into his lap. Oh.

I nearly moan at the bugle pressing into my ass, the wetness in-between my legs practically soaking his jeans. God why is he still in his clothes? "Hey, why do I have to be naked when you're--shit..." his vibranium hand slithers down my front, ghosting over my aching core. My head falls back against his shoulder, hands gripping the sides of the chair. My eyes flutter shut as he applies pressure to my clit, the cold metal sending jolts through my body. I let out a whine, biting my lip as he rubs slow circles, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. My legs begin to tremble, desperate to close around his hand, (which would fail to stop his movements anyways) but his thighs continued to spread my legs open. His movements only increased in speed, yet somehow still gentle. Moans slipped from my throat, desperate pleas of his name mixed with labored breaths at his movements. It didn't take long for the coil to snap, crying out as my body shakes in his touch. I rested my head on his shoulder as I caught my breath, my firm hold on the chair's arms releasing as the ringing in my ears dissipated. He leans down to capture my lips in a kiss, smiling as my eyes fluttered shut. "You okay sweetheart?" he asks softly, lifting me up into his arms. I nod, keeping my eyes shut. He walks to his bedroom, placing me on the bed. As he starts to stand up, I reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him on top of me.

"Wasn't done with you yet," I whisper, kissing him feverishly. He hums into the kiss, surprised. "Not too tired?" he asks, pulling his shirt off to be discarded onto the floor. "Not for you," I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck.

omg this. i love him. this is exactly how i see him in my head.

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

this but bucky x reader

shall I? SHALL. I.

this had me kickin my feet n shi

Same Lonely Night

summary: Your roommate Bucky Barnes hears you pleasure yourself and moan something he never thought he would be into. That forces him to face his feelings for you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 2.6K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n

A/N: This is the second part of A Lonely Night. This time we are seeing Bucky's POV and what comes next. You don't have to read that part to understand what's going on but if you want to, you can find it on my blog/masterlist. I planned this as a 3-part story and I hope I'll maintain my inspiration and motivation to write the last part. Wish me luck!

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. You are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

Bucky’s head is resting on the shower wall while the water is running down. His flesh hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he doesn’t move it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

He really had no intention to listen to you. He was just watching the news mindlessly, but his enhanced hearing turned into a curse the moment he heard you taking a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but focus on the noises you made. That’s when he started to hear the way you were touching yourself. Every stroke, every rub, every muffled moan… 

He knew what you were doing was private and he had no right listening to it, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. How could he? You were so needy and subby. Even in your fantasy, you were begging. He wondered what you were imagining. Who were you begging? Your crush? Maybe you have been seeing someone.

That thought had never occurred to him before. You were always in your element, working, chilling at home, doing whatever you enjoyed in your spare time, and occasionally going out with your friends. You never brought someone home. Not yet at least. So he never questioned if you were seeing someone or not. Even if there was someone, he wouldn’t know, and that thought suddenly hurts him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your moans bring him back to reality. If you are seeing someone why are you so needy? Are you just that greedy or has it been that long? He’s certainly hoping for the latter. That’s something he can relate to, and it's probably been much longer for him. That’s why he can’t stop listening. That’s why his cock is painfully hard. Normally he would just remove himself from the house, and give you some space instead of creeping like this.

“Oh please, fuck me.” He would do anything to be able to do that. Anything. Just to be in that room with you, taking his time exploring your body and satisfying your needs. Even just the thought of it drives him crazy. “Fuck me, daddy, please.” 

That surprises him on so many levels. He never thought you would be into that. You look pretty innocent. He wouldn’t assume you would have such dirty fantasies. Fucking an old man… Are you into older men or is it just a little fantasy you are playing? Maybe you are seeing someone old. Maybe that’s why your mind goes there. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what’s going on in your private life, and every word that comes out of your mouth confuses him even more. It creates more problems, but the biggest one is, when he heard daddy, his dick twitched with excitement. So it makes him question himself, too. Is he into younger women or is it because you were the one saying it? The latter somehow seems more likely. Yet all of that doesn’t change the fact that he’s listening to you and getting hard just because of it. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He hears how your head falls onto the pillow while your whole body is shaking, and how much you are enjoying it. He knows this is his cue. He should just remove himself from the living room so he won’t get caught with a hard-on. He doesn’t miss a beat. Quickly, he turns the TV off and runs to the bathroom. 

That’s how he ended up here, head pressed against the cold shower tiles, thinking about the way you said daddy over and over again. He is trying really hard not to give in, but his cock is aching with need. A part of him thinks he should just give in. It’s not such a big deal. Everyone masturbates. You just did. Three fucking times! That thought makes him groan. If you can come three times just by masturbating,how many times could he make you come? 

So it’s not even a conscious decision when he starts to stroke himself when he starts thinking about making you come. He can’t stop himself from imagining how you would look under him or on top of him. It doesn’t matter which position. He just wants to feel you. Your moans are echoing in his head while he caresses the top of cock. Just one stroke and it makes him tremble. He can’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. He can’t remember the last time his whole body heated up like this, just at the thought of someone. But you aren’t just anybody. You are you.

Maybe it’s because it has been ages since he had sex. Perhaps it’s because of his growing crush on you. He tried to control those feelings, thinking he was too old for you. He thought you would never look in his direction. Why would you? You are intelligent, beautiful and so cute. Like all these qualities aren’t enough, you are always so thoughtful. You always ask if he wants your leftovers, or if he needs help with anything. He knows he wakes you up at night sometimes. His nightmares are loud, but you never complained. Not once. You always let him watch the news even though you would rather watch something else. You even lent some books to him. They were in such good condition he couldn't believe his eyes. It was like reading a brand-new book. So yeah, he really tried to act like it was nothing but a silly crush, but after hearing the way you moan daddy he can’t stop himself anymore. It was as if you awakened something inside him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Should he take his time or just get over with it? He keeps his fingers loose, stroking himself up and down slowly while his head still rests on the tiles. Even with minimal effort, it feels so good. He gently cups his balls, massaging them and imagining you are the one doing it. You are the one touching the most intimate parts of his body. You are the one ready to satisfy his growing need.

“Oh fuck.” A moan escapes his lips. The shower is running and you don’t have a super hearing like him, so he knows he’s safe. Still, it feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. He shouldn’t be touching himself. He shouldn’t be moaning like this, yet you are so beautiful and needy… He already wanted you before hearing how you sound in bed, but now he wants you even more. He wants to be the one to bring you pleasure. He wants to be the one that satisfies all your needs so much that you would never need to touch yourself. Unless it’s to tease him.

He’s feeling guilty. So fucking guilty, but there’s no way he could stop now. Imagining you does something to him. There’s this primal need in his abdomen, building up.

His fingers tighten around his cock, moving faster than before, and he presses his lips together, trying not to make a sound. He keeps rubbing on that one sensitive part of his cock and finally, he starts coming with a choke. He keeps stroking himself, thinking it will be over soon, but it doesn’t end. There’s so much come that it surprises him. His hands continue pumping and his come paints the bathroom tiles immediately. He takes a deep breath when he’s done, trying to collect himself.

It feels like his head is spinning. He had been masturbating for quite some time, but he doesn’t remember the last time it felt this good. He opens his eyes, trying to ground himself, and all that shame he feels comes rushing in while looking at the mess he made. He groans loudly and then reaches for the showerhead. It doesn’t take long for him to clean the shower and then himself with the thought of you is still on the back of his mind. He is soaping himself, scrubbing, and then rinsing while trying to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just masturbation. It’s normal.

Of course, he knows how normal it is. It’s like breathing, eating, or drinking water. His body needs it so he gave in, but listening to you and touching himself while thinking about you… That’s where he crossed the line. He knows it, yet he can’t bring himself to wish he never heard you. He might be a creep or a pervert, it doesn’t matter. Your voice, the way you sound while coming, and the way you touch yourself are stacked in his memory forever. It’s something no one can take away from him.

Sighing, he steps out of the shower. Drying himself doesn’t take too long. When he steps into the living room, all that welcomes him is silence. You are still in your bedroom, God knows doing what. The TV is off, and nothing seems to have moved since he ran to the bathroom. So he’s safe. You haven’t heard or suspected anything.

Quietly, he goes back to his room, finds something to put on and just looks in the mirror. Is he really too old for you or is that all in his mind? He doesn’t look older than 35, but that doesn’t change when he was born.

What if you are into that, though? What if you really like older guys? That would change everything, wouldn’t it? You would like that he’s older than you. Maybe you would even call him daddy, just like you did in your fantasy. That thought makes the blood rush back to his cock, making him feel the arousal running through his veins once again. Like he didn’t masturbate in the shower a couple of minutes ago. 

He knows his anatomy by now. He knows he’s able to get hard again pretty quickly thanks to the super soldier serum, but he hasn’t been this horny for a long time. Especially not because of the thought of someone, but the thought of you calling him daddy… 

Jesus… It makes him so hard!

Sighing, he drops his whole weight on the bed and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to touch himself again. It’s for the best if he stops thinking about you and focuses on something else, isn’t it? He tries to think of something, anything that could take his mind off of you, but nothing, absolutely nothing is more interesting. Nothing he tries to focus on lasts. His mind goes running back to you, imagining how you would look the moment he would push himself inside you. How your mouth would open, how you would throw your head back, and how wonderful it would feel.

That thought does it. It breaks his resistance. All the effort he put into not touching himself again goes out of the window, especially once he imagines you saying “Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder.” His hand goes under his boxers, slowly toying with his cock. It feels like he didn’t touch himself today, and the need is even stronger now. After a couple of strokes, he realizes he can’t move his hand properly like this, so he pushes down his shorts and boxers at the same, creating some space for movement. 

He looks down at his cock, already oozing with precum. His flesh hand moves on top of the head and smears it all the way down, making it easier for him to play with himself. He sets a steady rhythm, testing what feels right, but his precum isn’t enough to make it enjoyable. That’s when he reaches for his nightstand and takes out the bottle of lube. His metal hand works fast, opening the bottle and putting a generous amount on hisnhand, before he puts it back and starts to touch himself. 

Now it feels much better. His hand works seamlessly from the top to the bottom, repeating the same movement a couple of times. He tries to get lost in his fantasies but something feels off. He isn’t sure what it is because what he’s doing is enjoyable. Something is not enough. Maybe he should work faster. So that’s what he tries. His hand starts to move faster on his cock, but that’s not helping. 

He’s pretty sure this is what his body wants especially because he’s still rock hard. Should he be more gentle and take his sweet time? That doesn’t seem to work, either. Does he need a tighter grip? Maybe, but he can’t do more with his flesh hand. He glances at his metal hand for the first time since he started. He never used it to pleasure himself before. The flesh looked and seemed more appealing than metal, yet right now it’s not enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

He reaches for the lube once again. This time he uses his flesh hand and pours some on his metal one as he tries to convince himself that this is not a bad idea.

He goes right back into touching himself, just with his metal hand this time. It feels different, really different, and surprisingly okay. It doesn’t feel as warm. The texture is completely different yet it somehow works. His fingers start to work faster, his thumb brushing over the head and, thanks to the lube, it starts to feel much better than he ever expected. His reluctance slowly fades away and he decides to test how fast he can move his metal hand and how much his cock can actually take it. As he paces up, pleasure starts to build so unexpectedly. He takes a deep breath but keeps moving his hand. His head is now thrown back while with the flesh hand, he cups his balls, gently massaging them.

“Oh god…”

He doesn’t realize that he's just said that out loud. He just keeps working on himself, letting his whole body relax under that pleasure. He really didn’t intend to focus on you this time, but here you are again, in his mind. The image of you on top of him… You with all your charm and cuteness, touching him, making him feel this good while he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks them until you can’t take it anymore. It drives you crazy, so you beg him to fuck you. Just like you begged while touching yourself.

“Please, please, please… I really need it, please…”

He can hear it so clearly like you are here and really begging him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that really happen.

“Anything you want, doll.”

His fingers move like they have a mind of their own. He knows he should slow down a little, make this one last a bit longer because it feels amazing, but his metal hand isn’t listening to him.

“Oh fuck, fuck.” 

He knows he’s about to come. He can feel it. It’s right there, just a few strokes away. He loses his damn mind imagining you under him, split open, and getting railed by him. God, that would feel so fucking good! You looking at him with those big beautiful eyes and begging him for more… Then your name slips out of his lips like it’s the most natural thing to say at that moment. 

Right when he’s about to come, a loud noise comes from the living room. Like something has just got shattered into pieces. His eyes fly open. He grabs his shorts and puts them on quickly, tucking his freaking erection away, and opens his door to see you standing there with an oversized T-shirt on. The glass you were probably holding is on the ground, but you don’t seem to care about that. You are looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit! She heard me.

Sam: Why is Bucky sitting on Steve's lap frowning?

Natasha: They got into an argument because Steve laughed at Bucky for tying his shoelaces the bunny ears way.

Sam: But they're holding hands?

Natasha: Bucky doesn't like it when they fight.

Bucky: *betrayed soldier noises*

Relationship goals

Hey, tumblr! How about this one? ❄❊⛄