Ships With Height Differences. Reblog If You Agree

as someone who’s genuinely scared of thunderstorms because my family’s house caught on fire during one. this is amazing

Thunderstorm

Summary: Your biggest fear is thunderstorms. To anyone else, it’s just an irrational fear, but to you… a more sinister reason is behind the fear.

Words: 908

You might be an Avenger, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have fears like a normal person. While granted, you don’t fear much, your biggest fear just so happened to thunderstorms. Much like the one going on right now. It’s close to midnight now and every other person is home with their families or on a mission this week. Only you and Bucky had stayed behind to keep eyes on things. Neither of you had anywhere to go anyhow.

One particular crack of thunder sends a jolt through you so badly that Bucky, who was walking back to his room, comes barreling through your door upon hearing you scream.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” he is assessing the room, trying to figure out what’s wrong. When his eyes land on your shivering form, he takes a step closer to you.

“Doll?” he says gently. You jump at his voice before flinging yourself into his unsuspecting arms. Bucky is quick to brace himself in the two seconds he had and lifts you into his arms effortlessly. “Tell me what’s going on doll,” Bucky murmurs in your hair. Another round of thunder vibrates the bedroom floor, your limbs tighten around the super soldier. “Oh,” he whispers understanding now. Scooping up your favorite blanket you always have on movie nights with the team, he carries your shaking form to his room just as the electricity flickers out. “I’ve got you doll,” you vaguely hear him tell you. You’re not sure when Bucky sat you down in his bed, so all you know is that you refused to let him go. “I just need to light a couple candles,” Bucky tells you, “Then I’ll get in with you, okay?” Carefully, you manage you release your hold from him. Thunder continues to rumble outside- keeping you on edge. Making quick work of lighting the candles, he is by your side and crawling into bed with you. “Okay doll,” Bucky says softly, “I’m yours. Let’s get comfortable, yeah?” ‘I’m yours’? If only you knew at that moment, your shiver wasn’t one of freight. Just as Bucky situates himself and wraps you up in his arms, the loudest crack of thunder sounds throughout the Avengers Tower. “I’m right here doll, you’re safe,” Bucky soothes, his hand rubbing up and down your gently. Burring your head into Bucky’s chest, you will the storm to pass quickly. Bucky keeps you secured to his chest as your body sits between his legs. He’s acting as your own personal safety net. It’s something you’ve craved for since you were a small child. “… I’m scared of fireworks,” you can hear Bucky telling you. “Fireworks” you manage to say, your voice cracking. Bucky smiles softly as he realizes his talking helped break through the fog you had gotten lost in. “And snakes,” he continues. “Why fireworks,” you sniffle, peering up at him. “They remind me of the war,” he explains softly. “Snakes is just because they’re able to digest you whole before you realize it’s happening.” “I don’t care for snakes either,” you supply. “It’s the scales for me though.” “And thunderstorms?” Bucky inquires. “I watched my family be murdered during a really bad thunderstorm… nobody could hear any of our screams because of how loud the storm outside was,” you tell him hesitantly as you had never actually shared anything about your family, which now makes sense to Bucky. “It’s stupid- “ “Don’t say that” Bucky cuts you off firmly. “It’s not stupid. It’s understandable.” You shrug slightly. “I feel like it is… I mean- “ The thunder grows louder and shows no signs of letting up anytime soon. You’re basically trying to crawl into Bucky as you whimper. “Look at me doll,” Bucky says softly, gently moving you to straddle his lap. “Breathe with me,” he commands you. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. “Good job, just like that,” he encourages. “I’m right here with you.” “I’m sorry,” you say in a small voice. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he reassures you. “I’m right here, just focus on my voice.” And that’s what you do. You focus on Bucky’s voice soothing you. You focus on his scent. And you focus on breathing in and out slowly. “Good girl,” Bucky praises. “Go to sleep. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.

______________________________________________________________

You wake up later in the morning the next day. Bucky has you tucked securely into his chest; arms wrapped around you gently. You don’t even recall falling asleep last night. “Morning doll,” Bucky’s raspy voice says. “Morning Bucky,” you reply, sleep still coating your voice thickly. “Sleep good?” “Better than I have in a long time,” you reply honestly. “Me too,” Bucky agrees. “I normally have nightmares.” You suddenly become aware of the position the two of you are currently in. “I’m sorry,” you begin to pull away and untangle yourself, but Bucky doesn’t like that idea so much as he simply pulls you tighter against him. “Don’t go getting all shy on me now doll,” Bucky tells you halting your movement. You blush bright red but settle back down. “Would you like to go on a date?” Bucky asks, somehow keeping his nerves at bay. You giggle. “Well we’ve already slept together so why not,” you look up at him shyly.

makes me wanna watch lord of the rings 🤭

A Very Horny Monday to you...

ahhh aspen!! thank you for this inspo, i hope you enjoy this kinda silly bit of smut (also i don't know if you're a lotr girlie but i hope this makes sense even for those who aren't!)

extended editions

pairing: friend!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky has a completely new idea for how to settle an argument between the two of you

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping, p in v sex, cockwarming, kissing, banter, tiny bit of overstimulation, arguments about the lord of the rings extended editions (don't come at me for the views expressed in this fic, i said what i said!!)

word count: 1.7k

-

You don't know how it happened. One minute, you and Bucky were arguing over whether you should show someone who’d never seen Lord of the Rings the extended editions or the theatrical versions first. The next, your mouths were fused together and you were kissing like you needed the air from each other's lungs to survive. You didn't even know who kissed who first.

"All I'm saying is that the extended editions are too long for someone who's never seen it before," you said on a gasp when Bucky finally pulled away, picking up the loose thread of your argument exactly where you'd left off.

"But how can you really know if someone likes Lord of the Rings if they don't like the extended editions," Bucky shot back as he tore your shirt up and over your head, flinging it somewhere in his living room. He buried his face in the soft mounds of your tits and groaned happily. "Shit, why have we never done this before?"

Your fingers threaded through his soft brown hair, taking hold of him and pressing his face deeper against your chest while your head tipped back and you reveled in the rasp of his stubble against your soft skin. "Because we're friends, Bucky," you reminded him. 

"Right, right," he muttered against your chest. He nipped and sucked your skin between his teeth, peppering your tits with marks while you moaned and tried to press closer. "Seems to me that's exactly why we should've been doing this all along," Bucky grumbled to himself.

You were rocking your hips on Bucky's lap, seeking something without even properly knowing what, when your aching center connected with the hot, hard length of him in his jeans. "Bucky," you gasped and pressed down right there. Your skirt rode up around your spread thighs while you rubbed your slit against his bulge through the thin layer of your panties. 

"Fuck, baby, right there," Bucky groaned, his hands falling to your hips and holding you in his tight grip as he helped you rock against his erection.

You snorted. "'Baby'?" you asked on a scoff. "Way to make a girl feel special, Buck," you muttered, a hint of a pout appearing on your lips. 

Bucky tipped his head back, his chin resting on your sternum as he gave you a half-hearted glare. "You're rubbing your sweet cunt all over my cock, doll," he drawled, yanking you back and forth on his bulge to prove his point, making your mind go a little fuzzy with need. "Forgive me if I can't come up with a more creative pet name for my girl."

A smile curled your lips and you let out a pleased sound that almost sounded like a purr. "I like that," you murmured, your eyes falling closed as you rocked harder on Bucky.

"What? Doll?" he asked, kissing your neck between words. 

"No—I like you calling me your girl," you answered, your hands digging into Bucky's hair and dragging him up to kiss you. Just like your first kiss, it was all-consuming, the taste and the heat of Bucky's mouth sending you mind floating through space where all that mattered was pressing closer to him and pulling him deeper. 

"My girl," Bucky cooed on an exhale when the kiss ended. "My pretty girl, my sweet girl." His voice was sweet but his hands were rough, one wrapping around the back of your neck and the other holding your hip while he thrust up from below, pressing his hardness against your clit and making you cry out with pleasure.

"Please, Bucky, I need you inside me," you whimpered, clinging to him for dear life. You were close to the edge, but you didn't want to cum without feeling him inside you first. You knew whatever orgasm you'd have humping against his bulge would pale in comparison to the one he'd give you if he was buried deep in your cunt. "Please, fuck me, Bucky."

"OK, pretty girl, OK" he muttered, his hands going to his button and fly, undoing them as well as he could while you refused to move from his lap. You whined when he pulled his thick, bulging cock from his pants. Your hips squirmed, desperately moving toward him.

"Bucky, please," you whined, rising up on your knees only enough to line up with his cock. "Need you now."

"Fine, fine," Bucky said, a little exasperatedly, tugging your panties to the side. "My impatient girl," he muttered affectionately as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance. 

Once you felt him, you started sinking down on his hard length. Your head fell back and your lips parted in a blissful moan as you felt him fill you inch by inch, stretching your tight hole around his thick cock. Your thighs spread wider over Bucky's lap, letting you take him all the way inside. 

When he was buried to the hilt, Bucky let out a strangled groan, his hands holding onto your waist like he was afraid you'd float away if he let go. You half expected Bucky to relax back against the couch and let you do all the work of riding him, but he stayed sitting up straight, your chests pressed together so you could feel each other as much as possible. 

"Feel so fucking good, pretty girl," Bucky murmured, pressing kisses to your chest and neck. 

"Mm, so big, Bucky," you responded, mind half-gone with pleasure already. All you could focus on was the feeling of him inside you, feeling like he fit perfectly. 

Bucky chuckled against your tits. "So agreeable when you're impaled on my cock, sweet girl, might have to keep you like this all the time," he said, a smile in his voice as he kissed his way up your neck and found your lips. 

You kissed him back for a moment, but then his words sank in and you pulled away, giving him a glare with no heat to it. "You're not right about the extended editions, Buck," you argued in a breathy voice. "They're not a good experience for first timers."

Bucky rolled his hips from below you, dragging yours in a circular motion at the same time and hitting a spot inside you that had your eyelashes fluttering as you let out a low moan. "We're going to have to agree to disagree, pretty girl," he said, kissing along your jaw. "But you're giving me an idea of how we should spend our first time together." 

Your hips writhed languidly on Bucky's lap, moaning at the delicious friction created by his cock buried inside you. "Wha-what's your idea?" you asked breathlessly. 

Gripping your chin gently, he tipped your face to look at him and gave you a wicked-looking smile. "I think we should sit here—with my cock in your tight little pussy—and see how long we can last before fucking each other's brains out," Bucky said, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he watched yours light up. "First one to give in, admits they're wrong about the extended editions."

Your mouth curved in an eager grin. "You're on," you said, accepting his challenge with the confidence of someone who knew they were right and knew they were going to win. You pushed him back against the couch and settled in, wiggling your ass more than necessary as you got comfy for the long haul. 

Bucky chuckled, groping your ass and kneading the soft flesh in his big hands roughly enough that you squeezed down on his cock reflexively. His voice was low and raspy when he spoke. "Can't wait to hear you admit I'm right, sweet girl," he muttered, relaxing into the couch.

Hiding a smirk against his jaw, you snorted lightly. "You're going down, Buck," you whispered in his ear before pressing your lips to his neck and setting to work at marking him with some hickeys of your own.

In the end, Bucky couldn't survive with your warm, soft heat wrapped so perfectly around his cock, especially when your lips and teeth never left the skin of his neck, except to whisper enticing things in his ear about how good it'd feel once he gave up and fucked your tight cunt. You didn't know how long it took, but you eventually pushed him to his limits. 

When Bucky snapped, he flipped you down on your back and pounded into you until you were screaming and coming apart on his cock. He spilled himself inside you with a filthy groan, pumping his cum deeper into you, before finally collapsing. 

You threaded your fingers through Bucky's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp while you both caught your breath. His head was resting on your chest, forehead pressed to your neck, his arms wrapped around your back between you and the couch so he could hold you close. 

With a heavy sigh, Bucky raised his head. His mouth was flattened into an unhappy line and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling at how disgruntled he looked. 

"You were right," he said on a sigh, rolling his eyes a little. "The extended editions are too long for people who are watching Lord of the Rings for the first time." 

You nodded as graciously as you could manage. "Thank you," you said, barely getting the words out before Bucky captured your lips in a kiss. While you were focused on his mouth, he pinned your hands above your head and shifted his hips, pressing his hardening cock deeper inside you. When he pulled away, you gasped, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Now, pretty girl, I think it's time you admit that we shouldn't have let the fact that we're friends stop us from making each other feel good before now,” Bucky said, rocking his hips so you could feel every twitch and swelling inch of his cock. “I’m right—tell me I'm right."

You had no hope of holding out on him, not when he was filling you up so perfectly and rubbing against your oversensitive clit. “You're right," you exclaimed on a gasp, squirming beneath his relentless hips. "You're right, Bucky—about everything except the extended editions."

Bucky growled and started fucking you again, sucking your tits and making you scream. He wouldn't let you leave the couch until he'd felt you'd more than made up for that last comment. By the time he was done with you, you were little more than an overly agreeable, pleasure-drunk mess in his arms. You fell asleep like that, tangled up on the couch in your friend's apartment while the Lords of the Rings extended editions played in the background. 

I guarantee this would just make me a better person

Relief Mission (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mutual pining, flirt, and so much smut

Summary: The morning after and beyond.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby This one's for you @weekendgothgirl.

Part 1 of Relief Mission

You had no idea what time it was when it happened, probably the middle of the night. That strange sensation of falling hit you and you jerked awake to the realization that you were falling out of the bed. You had made yourself as small as possible, put yourself on the edge of the bed, to give Bucky room. Scrambling to keep yourself from hitting the floor, you feel a hand grab your waist and pull you back. Bucky fit your body to his in the small bed, burying his face in your neck. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, but there’s no answer from the man snuggling against you. “Bucky?” you try again but the only answer you receive is a moan as he flexes his hips more firmly into you. You bite your lip and debate what to do. You could try to extricate yourself but you imagine that the loose grip he holds is deceptive or maybe you just want it to be. You decide to stay where you are, it was where you wanted to be anyway. You smile as you fall back to sleep. 

The next morning, you wake with your face pressed to his chest, legs tangled with his, and your hands curled into his shirt. When a ray of light hits the one eye not shielded by his chest, you groan. 

“Piss off, sun. I’m not done with nighttime yet,” you mumble the sentiment, enjoying the feel of waking in someone’s arms. Bucky’s chest rumbles against your face. His laugh telling you he was awake and had heard you.

“Morning, doll,” he says quietly. You can hear the smile in his voice and bask in it for a moment.

“Mmm, morning. I know, I know. Gotta get up. Long drive,” you say mostly to yourself. 

“Five more minutes?” Bucky whispers. 

“I knew I liked you,” you smile as you nuzzle into his warmth. His arms tighten around you slightly. You fall into a hazy half-sleep, more comfortable than you should be with a man you barely knew. Rousing yourself a few minutes later, you take a deep breath, “Sorry,” you extricate yourself, sit on the edge of the bed, and grasp for words to explain why you were practically wrapped around him. “I, um… Thanks for saving me from hitting the floor last night,“ you say with a nervous little laugh. 

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you from where he’s still laid out on the bed.

“Last night?...” you read his confused expression and continue. “I almost fell out of the bed and you pulled me back. I, uh, guess you slept through the whole thing, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “I’m not surprised. I was probably crowding you.”

“No!,” you say too quickly. “Not at all. Anyway, we should get going. I’m going to change. My shirt should be dry by now. I’ll give your’s back.”

“No need, doll. Keep it. Looks-” Bucky cuts himself off.

“What?” you ask, curiously. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head with a sheepish smile.

“No, it’s okay. What were you going to say?” 

“It, um, it looks better on you anyway,” Bucky quietly says and then stares, waiting for your reaction. 

“Oh,” you smile, heat creeping up your face. “Okay. Th-thanks. I’ll be out in just a minute.”

Bucky kicks himself as you scramble into the bathroom. His stupid mouth always seemed to run ahead of his brain around you. You probably thought he was an idiot. 

You stood in the bathroom for a minute and couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. He was so adorable. Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you get ready quickly. You still had to get to the rendezvous point to join the rest of your team. 

The drive was long but it was as if a dam had broken between you and Bucky. Perhaps the shared intimacy of sleeping in each other's arms had made the awkwardness melt away. Whatever the reason, the polite conversation and long silences you had formerly shared with the metal-armed supersoldier had turned into laughs and getting to know each other. He was surprisingly funny and incredibly sweet. The stories he told were endearing. You even managed to make him laugh. He asked questions and listened to you prattle on. 

By the end of the drive, your attraction to him had become a full blown crush. However, there was no time to dwell on it as the team immediately went on to the next part of the mission. It was a few days before you were back home and settled down from the action. You were happy when Bucky sought you out more often after that. You spent time together, laughed, and just enjoyed each other. The only thing that was bothering you is that he had never made a move in the two weeks since that night. You were wondering if he just wanted to be friends. 

You had just closed your door after hanging out with the team for the night when there was a knock. Opening the door, you look curiously at Bucky as he leans against the doorjamb. 

“Hey. What's up?” you ask, your heart beating faster.

“Do you ever think about that morning? Waking up together?” Bucky looks at you. His eyes are filled with such tenderness and just a tinge of fear. 

“All the time. All the time,” you smile widely and pull him through the door.

He shuts it as he walks through and your heart soared as he wrapped you in his arms. You stared into each other's eyes, taking each other in and then the tension snapped. His lips found yours and he kissed you until you were dizzy. It was as if neither of you wanted to separate. When he finally pulls away, you smile at each other. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” Bucky says, his hand caressing your neck. 

“What took you so long?” you tease. 

“I’m a little out of practice at the whole dating thing,” Bucky chuckles while his cheeks tinge pink. 

“Does that mean you want to date me?" You bite your lip.

"Yeah, doll. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?" Bucky asks, nervously.

"Why don't you take me to breakfast in the morning?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Uh, sure. If that's what you want. I'll see you in the morning," Bucky stutters in confusion. 

Realizing he hadn't taken your meaning, you decide to be a little more clear,  "Ya know, it's a long commute from my room to yours, maybe you'd like to just… stay the night?"

Biting your lip, you watch as realization dawns on Bucky's face. It's nearly comical. Sure, you were being forward but you'd practically walked around with a lady boner since that morning. Constantly hot and bothered from feeling him against you but nothing you did seemed to quell the ache. When Bucky stepped forward, his expression was full of wonder, as if he couldn't believe you had extended such an invitation.

He puts a hand on your neck and then pulls you to him for a kiss. You had expected it to be passionate as the one before had been but it was incredibly soft and tender. Your eyes flutter closed as you take in the moment. The feel of his lips, his hand caressing your neck, his metal arm going around your waist to pull you closer, and then suddenly, he breaks the kiss, bends down, and picks you up. You gasp as you put your arms around his neck and stare at him in surprise. Giving you a sweet smile, he walks to your bed and gently lays you on it. He follows you down, settling next to you before finding your lips again. His hands wander over your arms, your hips, your neck, as if he’s discovering you. Memorizing your curves and testing those spots that make you shudder. 

Taking some initiative, you put your leg over his and pull him closer. He rolls you under him, settling between your legs, and putting one hand under your shirt to feel your skin. You slide your hands under his shirt, feeling his warm skin, and push it up slowly. He takes the hint and leans back to pull it off. Running your hands over his chest, the ache between your legs becomes more pronounced. 

When you look into his face, he plucks at the hem of your shirt, the question in his eyes clear. You lift yourself up to help him pull it off and you’re a little surprised when he reaches behind your back and unclasps your bra with ease. He registers your surprised expression and pulls away. 

“I’m sorry. I should- I should’ve asked,” Bucky begins to stutter. 

You put your fingers to his lips and shake your head gently, “I was just surprised at how easily you did that. The answer’s yes.” You pull the bra off and throw it aside, immediately pulling him to you and enjoying the delicious warmth of his chest pressed to yours. You kiss his neck, dragging your tongue across the stubble there. 

Bucky shudders and whispers desperately, “Doll, I’m trying so hard to go slow.”

“Why?” You say against his skin, “You don’t have to go slow.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky groans. 

You let out a little laugh, “I’m not fragile. You won’t hurt me, baby.” To drive home your point, you nip at his neck. And just like that, the dam is broken. Bucky presses you into the mattress, your hands intertwined as he kisses you with abandon. His hips flex into yours and you moan as you wrap your legs around him. He drags his lips down your neck and pays special attention to your breasts as he practically rips open the zipper on your jeans. You shimmy as he pulls them, along with your panties, down your legs and tosses them aside. He’s nearly feral as he pushes your legs apart as wide as he can, stretching your cunt open to him. His mouth attacks your clit and you arch. 

“Jesus! Fuck, Bucky! Oh my god!” Your words melt into moans as he fucks you with his tongue. You arch and keen with each motion over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair as he eats you. It’s nearly too intense but you wouldn’t stop him to save your life. You’d never felt anything this incredible and it wasn’t long before you cried out, “I’m coming! Fuck! Oh, God, oh, God!” You were babbling as Bucky never even thought to stop or slow down. He kept going as if he’d never tasted anything as divine as you, as if his sole goal in life was to make you feel those incredible waves crash over you. He changed his angle and speed a second later and it had you building more quickly than you knew you could. You were bucking uncontrollably, chasing that friction he was creating, and then your body went taut, “Bucky! Baby, fuck! I- Ohhh!” Your voice died out as your whole body spasmed with the orgasm he had pulled from you. You felt like a ragdoll as you came back to yourself. You look down at Bucky where he’s watching you from between your legs, only his eyes visible as he slowly circles your clit. 

“Glad you aren’t fragile, doll. I’m not done yet,” Bucky smiles as he slides his fingers inside you and flicks his tongue more firmly against you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, “I can take it.” 

You grab handfuls of the sheets as his fingers find that spot inside you and the feeling of his tongue pushes you higher. You still manage to push the words past your lips, “Just remember, I get to taste you next. Fuck, it’s gonna be so good.” You feel your cunt gush as you say the words and Bucky growls, sending vibrations through you. “That’s right, baby. Gonna suck that cock. Want to feel it hitting the back of my throat. Gonna make you weak, oh fuck, from my mouth. Bucky! I’m gonna-” you scream, you can’t stop yourself. The orgasm that rips through you is the most intense thing that you’ve ever felt. You ride it out, one hand in Bucky’s hair to hold him in place as the incredible aftershocks hit you. When Bucky’s tongue starts making those delicious circles again, you laugh as you pull his head away from you, “my turn, handsome.”

He crawls up your body and hovers above you for a moment, looking at your debauched expression, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You smile and reach up to touch his face before catching him off guard and flipping him under you. Hovering over him, you smile, “I want to.” You lean down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips and grinding your soaked pussy over his considerable bulge. Pulling back, you stare into his eyes as you slide down his body. You pull his sweatpants off and lick your lips as his length bobs in front of you. “Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this.” You wrap your hand around him and give a long lick across his tip. 

“Doll!” The heels of Bucky’s hands are pressed into his eye sockets as if he’s in the most pain… or pleasure of his life. 

“What is it, baby?” you tease, repeating the action. You swirl your tongue around his head as you watch his breathing pick up. 

“I can’t, I’m gonna explode,” he whimpers. 

“That’s kinda the point,” you smirk as you take him in your mouth, running your tongue along his underseam. 

“Jesus, doll, I’m serious! I don’t think I can hold myself back. It’s been too long. You feel fucking amazing,” Bucky moans. 

“Then don’t,” you say before sliding him back in. You fuck him with your mouth, sliding your tongue back and forth, pumping what you can’t fit with your hand, palming his balls, and moaning at the divine feel of him. You employ every trick you know to give him pleasure. He fists the sheets, breathing heavily, and tries not to buck his hips. 

“Doll, I’m gonna… Where- oh, fuck, Doll!” Bucky’s pleas end on a long moan as you slide him into your throat. You hold back your gag reflex as Bucky explodes, filling you with his spend. It’s almost too much but you manage to relax and swallow. His hands nearly shred your sheets. He was incredibly turned on that you would even do this for him but when you slid him all the way in and let him come down your throat, he didn’t think he’d stop coming. His balls tightened up harder than ever before and all he wanted was to make you feel as incredible. You slide him out carefully and move to curl up beside him. “I need more,” Bucky’s voice is gravelly. 

“Oh, sorry, of course,” you sit up to move back down the bed but don’t make it far.

“No,” Bucky says as he lifts you and sets you down with a knee on each side of his head. “Just like this,” he says, pulling you down to sit on his face. Grabbing hold of your headboard, you gasp as pleasure rolls through you. Bucky’s hands knead your ass as he flicks his tongue over your clit again and again. 

“Bucky!”

“Ride my face, doll. Come on, you deserve it after that little show you put on,” Bucky uses his grip on you to move you back and forth, encouraging you to take your pleasure from him. You’re tentative at first but then the pleasure rolls through you as you grind against his tongue. As you roll your hips, he moves his head back and forth adding to the friction. Twisting to look back, you see his cock hardening again and all you can think of is riding it rather than his face, letting him fill you up, and as the image runs through your mind, your cunt spasms.

“Fuck! Bucky! I need you! I need you inside me,” you say the words desperately as you scramble down his body. He’s still only semi-hard but you line him up with your entrance and sink down. “Oh, fuck, yes,” you whimper as you slowly move your hips, eyes rolling back in your head at the pure hedonism. 

Bucky grabs your hips, staring at where your two bodies meet, indulging in the fact that he’s finally buried inside you. “You feel amazing, doll. Fuck.”

“Bucky,” you moan as you feel him growing inside of you, stretching you, hitting deep. “Bucky, I can’t stop. It’s so good, so fucking good,” you babble as you build momentum. You grind your hips against him, pleasure building with each motion.

“I wanna see you come on top of me, doll. Look at me, look in my eyes and come all over my cock. I want to see you fall apart. Give it to me,” Bucky commands. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine as your orgasm breaks over you. Staring into his eyes, your mouth forms an O as you lose yourself to the spasms. Your hips stutter and Bucky holds your face as he watches you. 

“I know, I know, babydoll. Good girl. You feel so good riding my cock. Just had to have it in you, huh? Couldn’t let me feel you come on my tongue one more time, you needed this cock inside you. Well, I hope you meant it when you said you weren’t fragile. We’re not done yet,” Bucky smiles cockily as he rolls you under him. He starts to move his hips in a slow rhythm, making you lift your knees to wrap your legs around him, arching to give him better access. 

Sex had never been this good. It had never felt like this. Never been this thorough and pleasurable. You were lost in it. Lost in him. He could do anything to you at this point and you would beg for more. 

“Bucky, Bucky, oh god, Bucky, please,” you moan. 

“Please what, doll?” Bucky murmurs in your ear. 

“More, harder, please!” you whine. 

“Good girl,” Bucky praises, “You want more, huh? Yeah, you need it, don’t you? Tell me.”

“I need it. Please, baby, I need more!”

Bucky pulls your legs up, throwing them over his shoulders and begins fucking into you with hard, fast strokes making you cry out. It was intense and you felt your cunt tightening around him.

“Yeah, that’s what my babydoll needed. Fuck, you feel good. You're squeezing me tight, taking me so good,” Bucky’s hands are everywhere, holding your hips, feathering over your nipples, caressing your neck. 

Your brain goes into complete overdrive between his hips driving into you relentlessly and the words of a sex god spilling out of his mouth. Fuck, it was just the first time and you were addicted to him already. You were gonna need a dose of him every day for the rest of your life. 

“Come on, doll. Come for me again. I’m so close but I need to feel you do that all over my cock again. Give it to me,” Bucky demands sweetly. 

“Ohhhh, fuuuck,” you whine as your orgasm slams through you. You nearly black out from the intensity but you will yourself to watch as Bucky loses himself to the fluttering of your cunt around him. His roar of pleasure as he emptied himself into you makes your cunt grip him even tighter. When he’s spent, he lowers your legs and gently lays down beside you. Pulling you against him, he kisses your neck and you smile. 

“See, not fragile at all,” you quip, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I hope not, doll. After all, this is just a break. We’re not done yet,” Bucky chuckles. 

Your eyes widen but, never one to back down from a challenge, you reply, “Barely started, baby.”

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

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Masterlist

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OH MY LORD I NEED THIS MAN!!

Freak Like Me

Bucky x reader

Summary: You got banned from playing music in the training room for a reason, and when an unexpected song plays during your workout, Bucky finds out why.

Word Count: 2311

Thought I'd give you guys something a little more spicy! Hope you enjoy :)

You walked down the hall of the Avengers tower toward the training room, and it was uncharacteristically quiet. You knew a lot of the Avengers had meetings today, but you didn’t think everyone did. You were glad though, because you didn’t really like working out with other people and you could play whatever music you wanted over the speakers.

You listened to a little bit of everything, and that was true for working out too. The music would go from rap, to pop, to rock, and while you didn’t blink an eye, everyone else hated it. So, naturally, you got banned from playing music when everyone else was in there.

You walked around the corner into the training room and came to a stop. Bucky was inside warming up on the treadmill. Of course someone had to be in there, and of course it had to be Bucky. He of all people would be most likely to hate your music.

You hadn’t brought your headphones, and you thought about going back to get them when Bucky looked your way.

“Hey, y/n,” he said, turning off the treadmill.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” you said, realizing it probably looked like you were standing there staring at him.

You walked in and set your stuff down, plugging in your phone by the benches because you forgot to charge it last night.

“What are you hitting today,” Bucky asked.

“Steve is making me do his leg workout,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Yikes, have fun with that.”

Bucky walked over to pick up some weights as you were trying to decide whether or not to ask if you could play music. You assumed he would say no, but decided to ask him anyway.

“Hey Buck, is it cool if I play music?”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he said, surprising you.

“Oh, okay cool.” You went to your settings to connect your phone to the speakers, then pressed shuffle on your workout playlist. The first song that started playing was an old rock song, so you were hoping Bucky wouldn’t regret saying yes too much. Then, you walked over to the other side of the training room to get set up.

Your playlist went through a bunch of different genres, but thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to mind. You were both just minding your own business and doing your own thing.

A little bit later, a new song started playing and you heard Bucky call over to you.

“Hey, I actually know this one,” he said, with a proud smile on his face.

You just laughed, listening to the music and realizing it was Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. It would’ve came out after the 40s, but apparently Bucky still knew it.

But then, you started thinking, this song would not be on your workout playlist. Your eyes went wide when you realized what song it actually was. Freak by Doja Cat.

You quickly reached down for your phone to change the song, only to realize it was still plugged in on the other side of the room. Plus, you couldn’t just change the one song Bucky said he knew without him being suspicious.

You started to freak out, knowing the song would definitely make him uncomfortable, when the music paused for a brief moment. You held your breath for what was coming next.

“Freak like me. You want a good girl that does bad things (to you).”

You looked at Bucky, and you couldn’t see his face because he had his back facing you, but he had stopped in the middle of his workout. You started over to get your phone when he turned around.

“What the heck is this?” he asked, a mix of confusion and horror on his face.

You stopped, trying to figure out how to answer, when the song kept going.

“Tied him down to my queen bed. Tease him just enough to hate me. Tied it tight enough he can’t break free.”

You scurried over to the benches and grabbed your phone, quickly skipping the song. You tried to play it cool, but Bucky was already walking over to you.

“So, is this why you got banned from playing music? You play songs about sex?”

You sighed. “No, they just don’t like that I play so many different genres,” you said, your face heating up.

He just hummed in response, still staring at you with his steel blue eyes.

“And here I was, thinking that you were so innocent,” he said, smirking.

“It’s – just a good song,” you replied, trying to defend yourself. Your face was bright red at this point, and you knew he was loving this, making you squirm.

“So, which one of the guys are you wanting to tie down to your bed, hmm?”

Your jaw dropped, face flushing as you tried to figure out how to respond to that.

“No one,” you said, “it’s just a catchy song.”

“Right,” he responded, his smile getting a little bigger. You knew he was never going to let this go.

“Well, I’m gonna go back to my workout,” you said, walking past him. But before you could get very far, he grabbed your arm and turned you toward him in one quick motion. You were now standing chest to chest, your faces just inches apart.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you played that song on purpose. I mean, we are the only two people in the tower for another couple hours,” he said, his voice low and deeper than it was before, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your jaw dropped slightly once again, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. Your heart was thumping in your chest, and you hated to admit it, but him pulling you towards him and talking in that voice was making you insanely turned on.

You opened your mouth, but when nothing came out, Bucky’s smirk just got bigger.

“I – I didn’t play that on purpose,” was all you could say.

Finally, Bucky broke character and started to laugh, dropping his hand from your arm. Your skin was still tingling where his hand had been.

“I’m just messing with you y/n,” he said, laughing. “You should’ve seen your face though!”

You stood there in shock as he walked away, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened. You walked back to the other side of the room, but you weren’t able to focus on the rest of your workout. You didn’t dare look over toward Bucky, so you had no idea that his gaze kept shifting to you, distracted from his own workout.

You finished your workout as quickly as possible and made a beeline for the door, grabbing your phone and not saying a word to Bucky as you practically ran out the door.

You were halfway down the hallway before you finally felt like you could breathe again. You didn’t realize how you had basically been holding your breath that whole time. You got back to your room and quickly jumped in the shower, just wanting to relax after how worked up you were.

You stepped out of the shower when you realized you forgot to grab clothes to change into. You sighed, trying not to focus on how nothing seemed to be going your way today. You just wrapped your towel around you after drying off and walked out of the bathroom to your room.

You were halfway down the hallway before you looked up and stopped dead in your tracks. Bucky was standing outside the door to your room.

And you were standing in front of him in nothing but a little towel. Could this day get any weirder?

“Uhh, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Sorry I just – was gonna apologize, but – seems like you’re really trying to get my attention now,” he said, a smirk plastered on his face yet again.

You sighed, determined to not let him get under your skin this time. Maybe you’d have a little fun with him.

“And what if I am?” you said, giving him a smirk of your own.

His smirk turned into a brief second of shock, and you could tell he was caught off guard.

You sauntered down the hallway, walking right past him into your room, but not before running your hand along his arm as you walked past. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked into your room, not bothering to close the door.

You walked over to your dresser, bending over to get clothes out, knowing your towel was long enough to cover you, but not quite long enough to keep Bucky from going a little crazy. You made sure to pick out the tiniest pair of shorts you own and a cropped baby tee.

You turned around grabbing the top of your towel like you were going to drop it at any second. His face was bright red and he looked like a deer in headlights. Man was this fun.

“You standing there hoping for a show, or can I get dressed in peace?”

“Oh, uh – sorry,” he mumbled. He pointed at the door, “do you want me to, uh – never mind,” he put his head down and practically ran the other way.

You tried so hard not to bust out laughing as you went over and shut the door.

Once you put on your clothes, you walked back down to the kitchen to get something to eat. Conveniently, Bucky was right there, sitting at the island.

“Hey Buck,” you said, flashing him a smile.

He looked you up and down, obviously liking what you were wearing.

“Hey,” he finally managed to get out.

“Are you gonna make something for lunch,” you asked him.

“Uhh, yeah I was gonna make some eggs.”

“Oooh, that sounds good, maybe I’ll make some too.” You walked over to the drawer with the pans, exaggerating every movement as you bent over. You knew he was going insane.

“Do you want me to just make yours too,” you asked, not bothering to turn around. You set the pan on the stove, finally turning around when he didn’t answer you.

That’s when you realized he was right behind you, looking at you with a deep intensity in his eyes. He had been so flustered, you didn’t expect him to do anything about it.

He slowly leaned forward, arms grabbing the counter on either side of you, trapping you in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Umm, making eggs,” you said, slowly.

“Are you tryna’ kill me, doll?”

The nickname made your stomach flutter.

“I was joking earlier,” he said, “I never thought you’d do it back.”

“And what makes you think I’m joking?” you responded.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’ve never seen you wear so little clothes around the tower.”

“I was still hot from my workout,” you said, shrugging.

“Oh, trust me, I am too,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

Bucky didn’t back up, and neither did you.

He looked down at you, his voice rough with restraint. “You keep playing with fire, doll.”

You tilted your head, meeting his stare without flinching. “Maybe I like the heat.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes darkened. For a moment, neither of you moved—until he reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek, trailing lightly down your jaw.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured.

“Good,” you whispered, your voice breathy.

And that was all it took. He leaned in fast, pressing his lips to yours with a force that stole your breath. One hand gripped the counter beside you, the other sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped into the kiss, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and he took that opportunity to deepen it—his lips moving hungrily against yours like he’d been waiting for this for far too long.

When you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“Still want eggs?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not really.”

Bucky’s smirk returned, but this time it was laced with something deeper—need, maybe, or anticipation. He backed you gently out of the kitchen, never breaking eye contact.

“Then come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s see how hot things can really get.”

And just like that, lunch was officially off the menu.

--

The next morning, you woke up tangled in warm sheets—and even warmer arms.

Bucky was still fast asleep behind you, his chest pressed to your back, metal arm draped lazily over your waist. His steady breathing tickled the back of your neck, and you smiled, remembering the very unexpected turn your day had taken.

You shifted slightly, and his grip tightened instinctively, pulling you even closer. “Mmm… don’t move,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“I thought super soldiers didn’t need this much rest,” you teased softly.

His lips brushed your shoulder. “They don’t,” he murmured. “But if it means waking up next to you like this…I’ll gladly pretend to be human.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin and reached behind you to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a sap.”

He grinned against your skin. “Only for you.”

Your phone buzzed from the nightstand, a text from Nat lighting up the screen:

You forgot to clean the pan from your “egg-making” session yesterday. Sloppy cover story, y/n.

You groaned and hid your face in the pillow as Bucky peeked at the message over your shoulder.

“So… busted?” he asked.

You sighed. “So busted.”

He laughed, pulling you closer again. “Worth it.”

And you had to admit—it really, really was.

friendly reminder that if i have ever befriended you and have not spoken to you in a while it’s nothing you’ve done wrong it’s just because i’m a piece of shit at keeping in contact with people and i still love you okay good

i’m gonna love this i just know

A Taste for Older Men Masterlist

dbf!bucky barnes au

warnings: age gap [reader is around 22 & bucky is 39]; never ending elements of dominance, submission and brat taming; masturbation and toys; dirty talk; orgasm denial; oral sex and dick worship; degradation; spanking; face slapping (consensual of course); mild daddy kink; voyeurism; size kink; penetrative sex;  praise kink; breath play; bucky falls in love, y/n doesn’t. 

seventven’s complete masterlist

A Taste for Older Men [part i] 

summary: y/n is moving back in with her parents after breaking up with her college boyfriend. due to an emergency at work, y/n’s dad is unable to pick her up and sends his friend bucky in his stead. to bucky’s surprise, y/n is no longer the innocent girl he remembers from years back.

A Taste for Older Men [part ii] 

summary: bucky comes over to watch a game with y/n’s father. alone in her room and still consumed by her previous conversation with him, y/n drowns in wicked thoughts of bucky.

A Taste for Older Men [part iii] 

summary: bucky volunteers to fix the sink at y/n’s family home while her parents are away. a discussion about recent events leads to an agreement.

A Taste for Older Men [part iv] 

summary: a barbecue with y/n’s parents turns from bad to worse when y/n decides to give bucky a taste of his own medicine. towards the end of the night, y/n is assigned the task of giving him a ride home. she receives payback for her bad behaviour.

A Taste for Older Men [part v] 

summary: bucky invites y/n over to his apartment so they can spend an intimate evening together. things quickly slip out of control. an unexpected guest brings them back to reality.

A Taste for Older Men [part vi] 

summary: bucky and y/n’s family receive an invitation to a common friend’s birthday party. one thing leads to another and soon, y/n’s father confronts the guy she’s been drunkenly flirting with. bucky decides he is sick of y/n’s immaturity. but is he really?

A Taste for Older Men [part vii] 

summary: pleased with y/n’s apology for her bad behaviour, bucky finally gives her what she has been craving this whole time. in the middle of the night and with her dad sleeping peacefully down the hall, y/n’s dirty little fantasy comes to life. at the end, y/n comes to a frightening realisation.

A Taste for Older Men [part viii] 

summary: a less than pleasant conversation over breakfast leads to bucky making the decision that y/n’s father deserves to know about them. y/n’s wants and needs differ from those of bucky. 

Chris Evans as Andy Barber in Defending Jacob | 1x07 | Job  

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.

me the first time i tried edibles- “i think i’m going to die”

Spicy Brownies

18+ 

High Bucky x reader 

Remember Spicy Plants ? Here’s spicy brownies. Welcome to another crack fic. 

Imagine the first time Bucky tries edibles. He knew they would hit differently than smoking but he didn’t think much would happen so he had another. Then another. He was a super solider so he’d be fine. So he had one more. 

He was fine.

He was totally and completely fine. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N Y/N Y/N!!”

“Oh my GOD!”

You and Steve sat in the living room, giving each other panicked looks hearing Bucky yelling from your shared bedroom. You both sprinted to the elevator and ran down the hall, bursting through the door, unsure of what was going on. 

“What is it Buck- oh my god” 

“What the hell…” Steve blinked, slowly backing away while you cocked your head to the side, observing a very naked Bucky looking at the mirror. 

“He nakeyyyy” Bucky whispered, staring at himself in the mirror wide eyed, cupping his own cheeks in utter shock. “Y/n, there’s a naked man in our room” 

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