Content: small age gap (reader is a few years older); fingering; oral sex (fem receiving), reader’s genitalia are described as “pink” in color, unprotected sex, creampie, one use of pussy pronouns, one brief mention of a fatality caused by drunk driving; if there's anything else lmk!
18+ Minors DNI
Synopsis: Four years after the death of your husband, you've rekindled old flames with your brother-in-law Bucky. Your son calls him Dad. You call him your man. But Bucky wants to call you more.
A/N: THANK YOU for so much love on the first (and what I thought would be only) installment of First & Last. I hadn't written any Bucky in a while, and this community welcomed me back with enthusiasm, open arms, and horny memes. You are all wonderful. I hope you enjoy this follow-up/final part to their story! Also ty for @buckybarnes82 for beta reading & discussing dick vs cock lmfao.
Need to play catch-up? Check out part one here!
4 Years Later…
"Hen, we have one more birthday gift for you," Bucky says with a smile as he walks into the living room with something small and wriggling under his flannel. You shake your head lovingly, knowing that your life with these two wild boys is about to get a lot more loud and fun. You didn't think that was possible, and yet.
"What is that, Daddy?" Your son asks. He'd taken to calling Bucky daddy as soon as he could talk. You'd both sat Henry down about six months ago and told him that his "first" Daddy was in Heaven looking down on the three of you. You thought the conversation was going to be hard, but it was surprisingly therapeutic for all of you. "You're still my daddy, though, right?" He'd asked Bucky with glassy eyes to which Bucky nodded enthusiastically, swallowing back a lump in his throat. "I'll always be your daddy, kiddo," he assured his nephew, enveloping him in a massive hug. You'd all cried, smiled, and turned over a new leaf that day. A family - for real.
"Well, you remember when we went to Grandpa George's ranch last month and his Mama Dog had those tiny puppies?" Bucky asks, watching Henry's eyes widen hopefully.
"Yeah," Henry replies, warily optimistic.
Bucky removes the blue-mottled puppy from his shirt and Henry jumps up from your lap with a gasp. Bucky places the squirmy pup into the little boy's arms. "Happy birthday, kiddo. She's excited to meet you."
Henry immediately sits down on the floor, still cradling the furry bundle in his arms. When he looks up at you both, tears are in his eyes. "I love her so much. Thank you, thank you!"
Bucky smiles and settles in next to you on the couch. You lean into his familiar body and rest your head into the crook of his neck.
You watch Henry nuzzle into the soft puppy. "You're welcome, honey," you say while rubbing a hand lovingly on Bucky's bicep as a silent thank you for keeping the pup fed, watered, and hidden in the barn for the past two nights.
"Does she have a name?" Henry asks, petting her gently. The puppy is standing on her hind legs and licking at the boy's face.
You look at Bucky and he shakes his head. "No, kiddo. You'd better think of one. She's going to help us keep the cattle in line, so make sure it's somethin' tough."
Henry considers this as you all hear the rooster crow outside the open window. "Rooster?"
"Yeah," you reply. "He loves to harass those hens."
"No, Mommy. I want to name her Rooster."
Bucky chuckles. "You want to name the dog Rooster?"
"Yeah Daddy! You said something tough. That rooster is tougher than nails."
You and Bucky both burst into laughter. "Tougher than nails, huh, Hen? Where did you learn that?"
"Grandpa George," he answers with a smile. "He teaches me funny words."
You look at Bucky with narrowed eyes. "I'm sure he does."
Two months later, Henry and Rooster, or Roo, as you've all affectionately nicknamed her, are inseparable. She even sleeps in Henry's bed.
"You want to go for a ride with me while your mama gets her nails done?" Bucky asks, leaning into Henry's bedroom doorway. Roo pokes her head up at his voice and cocks it to one side, recognizing the word "ride". She's graduated from riding in a saddlebag with her tiny head poking out to balancing on the horse's rear end. She licks Henry's hand to rouse him.
"Yeah!" Henry exclaims in a groggy voice. He sits up in bed, and his dark hair is sticking up in every direction.
"Okay, I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready," Bucky says. "Take your time, son."
He follows the scent of your peachy vanilla lotion to the bathroom off of the bedroom you now share together. Bucky officially moved in when Henry was almost two. Most of his stuff was here anyway, slowly intermingling with your things as the time passed - pairs of socks rolled up side by side in the top drawer, toothbrushes with the bristles touching in a cup by the sink, three sets of boots in the mudroom. The evidence of a steady migration toward normal again.
"What color should I get today?" You ask, looking down at your bare toes. You'd love to get a manicure, but the ranch doesn't allow it. It's only a matter of hours before a nail breaks or chips from doing something hardy with your hands. You always stick to pedicures, plus Bucky loves to pick out the color.
"Hmm," he considers, wrapping his arms around you from behind and admiring your reflections in the large mirror. He plants a kiss to your neck before bringing a calloused hand up and under the neckline of your dress and over your breast. Your eyes flutter closed. You don't think you'll ever get used to how good he feels, and not just sexually, although that's another level of good. Just his breath on your skin and his deep voice in your ear are enough to sustain you for days. "So sexy," he groans with a gentle squeeze.
"We can't right now," you say, biting your lip. "My appointment is in twenty minutes, Buck."
He growls and releases your breast, but keeps his arms around you.
"What color?" You ask again, this time wiggling your toes. He looks down and sighs out a laugh.
"Hmm," he hums as he turns you and sets you on the bathroom counter top before he steps between your thighs. "There's this shade of pink I can't get out of my head," he whispers as he nips at your ear. "It's becoming one of my favorite colors."
You sigh in a sharp breath as one of his hands runs up your thigh and under your sundress. He traces the lace edge of your underwear with a warm finger before pulling the fabric to the side. A delicate moan escapes you as he draws a line up the seam of your pussy. "Yeah, such a warm shade of pink. Perfect for -" he pauses as he presses in knuckle-deep, "summer."
"More," you gasp, rocking your hips into his hand, but he removes his finger and pulls your underwear back into place with a devilish grin. Your gaze widens as he lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks the digit clean. He leans in and whispers. "You'd better come back with those toes painted pussy pink."
"James Buchanan Barnes," you whisper-shout in shock as you hop off the counter and adjust your dress. "You're crazy."
"Crazy for you, honey," he says with a kiss. "I'm taking Hen and Roo out for a ride this mornin'. Gonna mend that piece of fence the herd took down."
"Okay, there's breakfast sandwiches on the stove for y'all. I'll be back in a couple hours."
You finish getting ready while Henry and Bucky eat their breakfast. You give them both a kiss, pat Roo's head, and grab the truck keys from the hook on the wall.
"Pink!" Bucky shouts with a grin as you close the door behind you. Naughty, perfect man.
When you get to the nail salon, you find that you're scheduled for a manicure and a pedicure. "No, that's a mistake. I'm sorry," you explain. "I'm just here for the pedicure."
"Oh, well, your husband called earlier and added on a manicure," the receptionist says and repeats your name to confirm.
"Yeah, huh, that's me," you say with a puzzled expression. Bucky isn't your husband, but you let that assumption slide.
"It's already paid for," she explains.
"Oh, well, okay. I guess I'll do both then."
"Okay, go pick your color," she says, pointing to the wall behind you.
"Pink," you say under your breath and feel your cheeks heat. He's such a quiet man. You'd never know how deeply naughty and affectionate his is unless he was yours. You study the rainbow of shades and pick a "warm, summer pink" that you think is the closest to… well, you know.
The nail technician leads you to a chair where she gets you started with a hot, soapy soak for your feet. You show her the color you want - yes, for both fingers and toes - and she gets to work. Your eyes flutter closed and your head hits the massage chair pillow at some point during the treatment. You wake up from your semi-slumber with a soft tap on your knee. Your toes and nails are now pink and you smell like a sugar-scrubbed coconut. You admire the color - it is the perfect summer pink.
Meanwhile at the ranch, Bucky and Henry are getting back on the horse with Roo in tow.
"That's a good lookin' fence there, Hen," Bucky says, offering up his hand for a down-low high five. "Thanks for the help, buddy. And thanks for talkin' with me."
"You're welcome Daddy," he says, settling back into the saddle against Bucky's chest. As Bucky looks out over the land, he feels a slight pull at his heartstrings. He misses his brother. He wishes he could have seen his amazing little boy grow up. He didn't even get to meet him, and that's a damn shame. Fucking drunk drivers. Henry falls asleep against him as they ride slowly back to the house. Bucky spots your truck pulling up the gravel drive and his heart pulls again, but this time it's for different reasons. It's you - your strength, your beauty, that fact that you're stubborn as hell, smart as a whip, and everything he's ever needed - the fact that you helped him feel like himself again. You helped each other heal together. He's never letting you slip through his fingers again. You get out of the truck and hold a hand over your head to shield the sun. Here comes your world, all on the back of a horse. You can tell Henry is sleeping by the way he's slumped against Bucky's chest and you smile. You meet them in the barn and carefully carry your boy inside to his bed. You'll change the bedsheets later. Who knows what they got into out in those fields,but you don't want to chance changing him out of his little jeans and t-shirt.
You pour Bucky a quick glass of iced tea and walk out to the barn. He's hanging up the saddle as you round the corner.
"Hey," you say. "Thanks for the royal treatment." You hand him the glass, showing off your surprise manicure.
"You deserve it," he says, taking the glass from you with a nod before taking a long drink. "Thank ya. Lemme see 'em again," he says, gesturing to your hands.
You hold your hands out in front of you and the side of his mouth quirks up in a smile. "That's a good color," he mutters, "but I think we'd better color match 'em." Before you know it, the empty glass is on stable ledge and Bucky has you in his arms. "Hen stay asleep?" He asks, carrying you bridal style to the old desk in the corner of the barn.
"Yes," you answer through a gasp as he sets you down on the desktop and drags the fabric of your dress around your hips.
"Good. Now spread your legs," he groans, hooking his hands into your underwear and pulling them down around your ankles. He stops and runs his knuckles over the arch of your foot. "So soft." He plants a kiss there.
"Bucky," you whine, but before you can say anything else, he drags your body to the edge of the desk and kneels down, licking a broad swathe up your center with a grunt and he inhales.
"So sweet for me," he mutters as he nuzzles his nose against your clit and tongue fucks you. "Touch yourself, baby."
You comply and bring your freshly manicured nails to your swollen bud. "Perfect match," he says, smiling up at you with a pleased expression. You swipe your thumb across his glistening lower lip, and he takes your wrist in his hand before bringing it up to his mouth. He sucks your arousal off. The action makes you clench and Bucky notices with a needy sigh. He doesn't say anything, just stands up and unbuckles his belt. His eyes never leave yours as your chest heaves in anticipation. Every time with him feels like the first in the best way.
"I'll be right back," he says as he leans in to kiss you and turns on his heel toward the house, presumably to get a condom.
"Buck, don't go," you beg. "We could just…"
"What are you asking?" He presses with a raised brow.
"I'm saying I want to feel you, please."
A whimper erupts from his throat. "Bare?"
You nod, eyes pleading, and he answers you by unbuttoning those Wranglers you'll never get enough of, and putting your hand down the waistband of his boxers. He's all heat and girth and veins, and you know he's it for you. No one else could ever compare. You've done it countless times over the past few years, but never like this, and you shiver in anticipation. Something about seeing him with Henry earlier on the horse, maybe? The manicure he insisted on? No, it's nothing specific. It's all the little things - the way he lets you sleep in on the weekends while he gets up to eat big bowls of cereal and feed the horses with Hen, his strong silence that makes you feel safe and like nothing can touch you, how he understands that even in the thick of bliss and happiness together you still get hit with bouts of grief over the death of his brother, the generosity of his spirit and hands - "Oh," you moan as he lines himself up and looks at you one last time for confirmation.
"I want all of you," you whisper across his lips. He nods and swallows, pressing in slowly, carefully until he's fully inside.
"There's all of it," he rasps. "God, I love you."
"I love you, James."
He starts to move, wrapping his arms around you and keeping most of your body weight off the desk. There's a handful of positions that feel amazing with Bucky, but your favorites are the ones where you're face to face like this. Watching each other come undone - the dilated pupils, the sharp intakes of breath, the flushed cheeks, sometimes even tears - it's everything.
"Fuck honey," he groans. "I can feel everything. Fuck."
His breathing is labored and delicious and hot against your neck as he starts to move faster. He brings a thumb to your clit. It's warm in the barn already, but now you can feel sweat start to form on the back of your neck as your body heats.
"Feels… bigger," you manage to breath out, gripping at his biceps. He keeps working slow, methodical circles on that sweet spot as he fucks you a little bit rougher against the desk. The tension in your lower belly snaps.
"Mmm, can feel you squeezin' me," he grunts. "Come for me, Junebug."
He moves a hand to the back of your neck and adjusts your head so it's level with his. He looks into your eyes. "Come," he demands.
"Buck - I," is all you get out before your thighs start shaking around his hips and your orgasm takes hold.
"There you go," he encourages you, keeping your head in place to talk you through it. "Look at me when you come on my cock."
"God!" You exclaim, a groan escaping your throat.
"So wet," he gasps. "I'm so close."
You catch your breath and make him look at you this time by tugging gently on his hair. "Don't pull out," you whisper.
"Sorry?" He whines like he didn't fully hear you.
"I wanna feel you, Buck. Please."
His mouth collides with yours, tongues dancing together as he whimpers, spilling into you. You both stay where you are, breathing in tandem, coming down from your highs. After a half minute or so, he shifts his hips to pull out with a hiss. He stands back and admires his handiwork with a blush and grin. "She looks real pretty all full of me."
"You have such a mouth on you," you reply with a giggle. "But I love it."
"I love you," he blurts out again. "I-"
He looks nervous all of a sudden, then moves to you to pull down your dress. "I'll clean you up inside, but Junebug… I gotta ask you somethin' first."
"What?"
He buckles his belt quickly, takes one more glance at you like he's never loved anyone more, and kneels on the hay-laden ground.
"Will you marry me?"
"Bucky-" you start as your heart starts beating wildly in your chest.
"I have a ring, I swear," he says, eyes widening in panic.
You hop down from the desk and walk to him, kneeling in the dirt as tears fill your eyes.
"It's inside, I'm sorry, I-" he panics.
"Bucky, yes," you say, putting your hands on each of his cheeks in an attempt to calm him.
"Wait, what?" His eyes snap to yours.
"Yes, I'll marry you."
"Oh, thank God," he sighs and picks you up. "I had this whole night planned, and I don't know, I just had to ask you right now. I love you so much. I love Henry. I love our little life that we've built from the ashes. I can't imagine anyone but you guys as my forever."
"Bucky, I love you so much. I want this forever with you too," you answer.
"Wait, is this why you had me get a manicure today?" You ask through a giggle, admiring your shiny nails.
"Well yeah," he admits sheepishly. "I figured you'd want them nice for pictures."
"You're so thoughtful."
"Oh, and I already asked Henry while we were mendin' that fence earlier. He said, and I quote, "I don't know why you're askin' me for Mama's hand when you already hold it all the time anyway."
You choke up at that. Right before you walk back into the house together, a junebug lands on your sleeve and you know that one more very important person is sending their blessing down from above. Bucky notices too.
"Thank you," he says, looking up into the bright blue sky. "I'll take care of both of them. Forever."
Content: small age gap (reader is a few years older); mention of "accident" in which the reader's husband dies (no gore/details); breastfeeding; sexual content including a lactation kink; aspects of grief; kinda friends to lovers
18+ Minors DNI
Synopsis: After a tragic accident, you are left widowed with a newborn son. Your late husband's brother and your childhood friend, Bucky, is there to help you pick up the pieces and lend a hand around the family ranch. Old flames reignite.
A/N: not proofread, just felt like writing today for some self-care!!
You aren't looking. Well, you are, but not looking looking. Not ogling - definitely not staring at the small hole where his pocket is coming loose from the rest of his Wranglers. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your fingers itch to stitch up the denim. To mend the pocket. To fix something. Anything.
"Sis?" He asks again, clearing his throat.
Your eyes snap to his as your teeth release the plump flesh of your lip. "Sorry, what?"
"Where did my brother keep the new shoes?"
"Oh," you utter, walking across the south side of the barn. Your brother-in-law follows you, boot heels clunking softly on the hay-laden ground. "He kept everything organized," you say, swallowing down a lump in your throat. "But I'm not sure where…" you trail off, remembering that you didn't help him reshoe the horses the last few times because you were pregnant and he didn't want you to chance anything.
Bucky rifles through some milk crates and a few drawers of the repurposed desk your late husband kept in the horse barn for odds and ends. You hear the steel shoes clank against each other as he lifts them from a full drawer. The baby monitor you clipped to your back pocket starts to hiss with static before a soft cry fills the otherwise quiet of the barn.
"Go," Bucky says, nodding his head toward the house. "I'm no farrier, but I can handle this."
You jog across the yard and up the front porch steps. The screen door slams shut behind you, making you jump. You need to fix that damned hinge. Your son's cries intensify at the disturbance, and your chest aches at the sound.
"Hey, hey…" you whisper in soothing tones as you open the door to the nursery. "Mama's here, little guy." You scoop him into your arms, wiping his tears with the back of your hand as you settle into the rocker his dad built for you. "Are you hungry?"
Your son answers by grabbing at your shirt. Once he's latched and calmed down, you lean your head back on the chair and sigh. The nursery window is cracked to let in a breeze, and all you can hear are your son's soft sounds as he feeds and the steady clank of a horse being shoed. It's oddly peaceful, and your shoulders release some tension you didn't realize you've been holding. Your throat immediately gets tight at the realization that you just felt peace when your life these past several months has been anything but. Guilt breeds in your gut, and you replay the accident over again in your mind, closing your eyes.
You startle as Bucky walks into the nursery, rag over one shoulder, hoof nipper in hand. His gaze bounces from you to your breast and then back again. "Sorry," he mutters, swallowing. "Didn't mean to interrupt ya."
You pull down your shirt with a shrug. "It's okay. He's done anyway," you say, rocking the little babe in your arms.
"I was just letting ya know I'm done," he says, eyes shifting to the wood slats of the floor.
You examine the face of the man that looks so much like your husband - the same piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and cleft in his chin. But where your husband was more polished and soft and always talking, Bucky is all unkempt and broad and doesn't say more than is necessary - a man of few, yet impactful words.
"Thanks Buck," you say, offering him a soft smile. "I appreciate all your help since… everything, especially lately now that this one is crawling."
"Anytime, Junebug," he says with a nod.
Your chest clenches at the nickname you haven't heard in decades. It was actually mean, the way the moniker fell into your lap. Bucky was a few years younger than you and his brother, but you guys always spent the summers together running wild around the ranch anyway. One night the boys collected junebugs in a mason jar when you were "camping" in the backyard and opened the jar in the tent, zipping you inside. You still shiver when you think about all those little guys flying around the tent and landing on your suntanned skin. It was Bucky that eventually unzipped you and helped you shake off the creepy crawlies. You thanked him by the creek later that night with your first kiss. It was mostly teeth and a couple of matching blushes, just something kids do when they're bored. You'd sworn him to secrecy, and you never did tell another soul, even when his big brother asked you to junior Prom. And then senior Prom. And then gave you a promise ring a few years before getting down on one knee. You were married to his brother the summer after Bucky graduated high school, and Bucky smiled through a lump in his throat as he watched the two of you kiss at the altar. Maybe if he'd been born first…
"Buck?" You say, trying to get his attention. His eyes had glazed over as he stared at the floor again.
"Sorry," he says, looking back to you. "I'll get outta your hair."
You stand up with your son in your arms. His fingers grip a strand of your hair and pull. You wince. "Why don't you stay? I'll make supper. I was going to bake a peach pie."
His stomach growls as if on command, betraying him, and you sigh out a laugh. "Okay, sure," he agrees with a soft grin. "Let me clean myself up a bit. I can take him while you cook. I'll show him how to fix the broken hinge on the front door. He's old enough to start pulling his weight around here," he jokes.
You smile and look down at your son. "You hear that, Henry? Your Uncle Buck is going to teach you how to be a man. You're nine months old now, big guy."
You listen to Bucky talking to Henry from the kitchen as you put the pie in the oven. It's nice to hear someone's voice other than your own, especially one so warm and familiar. After you set the table for two - another thing you haven't down in months - you lean in the doorway and watch the two of them together. Bucky makes a funny face at Henry, and the baby belly laughs, causing you to laugh in response. Bucky turns to you and smiles.
"It's nice to hear you laugh, Bug," he says before turning to his nephew. "Doesn't your mama have the best laugh?"
The baby beams up at his uncle, and Bucky picks him up and walks to you. The sight of him holding your son sends an unfamiliar jolt to your stomach. As he gets closer, Henry starts to grab at the neckline of your shirt, and Bucky takes the hint, handing him to you. Your hands brush and the jolt turns into a shimmery kind of feeling - like butterflies. Or junebugs.
After dinner, Bucky does the dishes while you give Henry a bath and rock him for bed. He falls asleep quickly, and you're relieved. As every mother knows, you'd do anything for your children and you love them more than you ever knew possible, but damn does it feel good when they finally fall asleep. You close the nursery door and pad into the living room, surprised to see Bucky sprawled across the couch with a baseball game on low volume. His faded t-shirt has ridden up, leaving a strip of skin bare above his belt. Your cheeks heat as he looks up at you, and you meet his gaze.
"Just wanted to make sure you guys were good. I'll get goi-"
"You could stay," you say quickly, cutting him off.
Bucky sits up and runs a hand through his hair. "I could."
"You should stay."
"I should?"
You nod, swallowing down your fear.
"Come here, Junebug," he says, waving you over. Your feet carry you to him before your brain can stop you. His hand traces up your arm slowly before pulling you down onto his lap. "He told me to take care of you if anything ever happened."
"I don't want you to feel obligated-"
"Honey, you've never made me feel obligated to do anything a day in my life. Besides…" he trails off.
"Besides what?" You ask, leaning into him.
"You were mine first," he says definitively, looking into your eyes.
"I feel awful for the way I feel right now," you whisper. "I miss him, Bucky. I loved him."
"No one would ever doubt that," he says, smoothing a hand over your hair. "He was my big brother. I miss him too. It was a freak accident. I think he'd forgive you for your feelings right now."
"You don't even know what what my feelings are right now," you say, laying your head on his shoulder.
"I'm not an idiot, Junebug."
Your eyes flash to his, and he looks from yours to your lips and back again.
"I'm not an idiot," he repeats in a whisper, leaning into you. "Say the word, and I'll stop."
"Don't stop," you whisper back, nose brushing against his, sending another parade of junebugs fluttering in your tummy.
His facial hair brushes against your upper lip, and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. It's been too long since you've been kissed… held… touched. And before you can recover, his lips are on yours and you feel guilt creeping back in at how good it feels to kiss him. The windowpane behind his head makes a soft sound, and you open your eyes to see that a junebug has landed on the glass. It crawls up the pane for a second before flying away.
"I loved him, too," Bucky says as he pulls away, running his knuckles across your cheek. "But I also love you. I've loved you since we were kids. Let me take care of you. Both of you."
You don't reply with words, but by letting him maneuver your body so that you're straddling his lap. Your arms come up around his neck, and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck where he could use a trim. His hands run down your back and rest on your hips. Your entire body aches with want, the skin hot under your shirt where his hands are touching you. You put your hands over his and move them under the fabric so his calloused fingers are trailing up your stomach to your chest. His lips find the hollow of your throat, and he kisses you delicately. A moan escapes your lips, and your nipples harden in response. Your entire body is alight, not just because you haven't been touched like this in months, but because it's Bucky. Your Bucky. If anyone can take care of you, it's him.
"Touch me," you beg, moving his hands under your bra.
He groans as his hands find the soft, full, tight flesh of your breasts. Each hand encompasses one, but he doesn't squeeze, like he knows they are sensitive. "Can I?" He asks, starting to move your shirt to take it off completely. You nod, and unhook your bra, wanting to be bare before him. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he takes in the sight of you.
"You're perfect," he mutters before kissing your neck again. "Absolutely perfect."
He trails his mouth down your neck as his own arousal grows more prominent in his jeans. You can't help but grind your hips into the stiff denim as you run your fingers through his hair. His tongue and teeth and the glorious heat of his delicious mouth find a nipple and he bites it gently before sucking. You hiss at the feeling - familiar, yet foreign all at once. He massages the other between a thumb and pointer finger, and you feel the air grow colder around your bare breasts where it's now wet. You pull back, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I-"
He shakes his head and pulls you into him. "Don't be."
He pushes your breasts together and bends down slightly to press his face into your chest.
"Oh," you sigh as he takes the other nipple into his mouth and sucks before pulling away and licking at his lower lip.
"It's so sweet," he murmurs before kissing your lips. "But I bet I know what's sweeter."
"Ohhh," you say, biting your lip.
Bucky moves you so you're lying down on the couch and starts kissing down your body, but as he settles back on his haunches, he knocks a book from the coffee table with a loud thump. You wince and hold up a finger, waiting for the cry. It comes a few seconds later, and you sigh, defeated.
"It's okay, honey. I got him," Bucky says, smoothing down your hair. "Why don't you go get ready for bed?"
"I'm so sorry," you respond, looking up at him as he stands up and straightens his shirt.
"I'm not," he replies. "I'm not going anywhere, Junebug. I'll be your first and your last."
Check out the final part/follow-up here!
Do you like Bucky Barnes? Check out more stories here!
+fran: this is literally stuff I imagine with lee, and I need it out of my brain in some capacity so I can work on other stuff.
warnings: talks of masturbation (m), age gap (duh), pervy bucky, pervy reader, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie.
dbf!cop!bucky who the second you arrive, he regretted ever agreeing to host you for the summer. 90 seconds of holding himself back was too much, let alone 90 days.
dbf!cop!bucky who carries your pretty luggage upstairs to the guest room, Becca's old room in the house he inherited from his parents. it's all girly and frilly and right up your alley.
dbf!cop!bucky who gives you a brief house tour, explaining the trick to get the water warm enough, but not scalding hot in the shower.
dbf!cop!bucky who let your know of his schedule, not knowing he's giving you all the tools to tempt the man that had you squeezing your thighs together from the get go.
dbf!cop!bucky who goes to do his weekly laundry and sees you did yours already, all sorts of pretty scraps of lace and silk hanging on the wire outside to air dry.
dbf!cop!bucky who after that can't stop picturing you covered in the red set that's drying outside, letting his thoughts wander to pulling those small panties off of you with his teeth.
dbf!cop!bucky who doesn't know that his uniform makes you very, very, very into him. looking like the perfect picture of the law in his broad form, star shining by his waist.
dbf!cop!bucky who comes home one day exactly at the time he said he would, to find you "looking for your robe" in the living room. in only the white and powder blue pair of panties he saw peaking out of your dresser days earlier.
dbf!cop!bucky who doesn't know where to look. I mean, he does, but he pries his eyes away from you and starts analyzing even the grooves on the hardwood floor, as you just giggle, pretend you're embarrassed, and skip away up to your room once he shuts his eyes and pleads for you to "please find some clothes, sweetheart."
dbf!cop!bucky who cannot pry his brain from the thought of you later that night, even if he gave himself a lobotomy. so the only thing he could do to sleep, of course, is to stroke his cock to the thought of you: slowly bouncing on him, putting him in your mouth and stretching your pretty, pouty lips around his length.
dbf!cop!bucky who spent so long alone in that house, he forgot how the sound carries.
dbf!cop!bucky who goes to take a shower after that, feeling like a dirty old man for thinking of you while doing such things.
dbf!cop!bucky who jumps up in surprise when he feels your hands on his back , nails scraping the skin as hot water flows down, and when he turns he's met with hazy eyes and a very naked, wet, you.
dbf!cop!bucky who almost feels bad when you get on your knees.
not enough to stop you, though.
dbf!cop!bucky who has any protest in his mind die the second he hears a symphony if wet slurping sounds and watches you try to take his whole cock in your mouth.
"such a naughty little thing, aren't you?"
dbf!cop!bucky who ends up fucking you in the shower, and then twice more on his bed, not even bothering to dry either of you off, planning on doing enough to you that he'd have to wash the sheets the next morning anyway.
dbf!cop!bucky who makes sure to tell you exactly how fucking good you feel on his cock, how much he's thought of splitting your pussy open onto him, how he wanted nothing but to fuck you stupid from the get go.
dbf!cop!bucky who cums inside of you endless times during that summer, fucking you silly on every surface of that house at any given time of the day.
dbf!cop!bucky who is so lost in the feel of your mouth around him and the sight of you kneeling between his thighs, sitting on the couch, that he definitely doesn't hear the car pull up when your dad comes to pick you up to take you back to the city.
A/N: Written on my phone so probably spelling mistakes.
The spring night was cool and refreshing. Bucky stood outside your door, fixing his hat and his uniform while waiting for you to answer the door. He smiles wide when he sees your face.
"Good evening doll, would you be so kind to let me bring you to the fair tonight?"
Your eyes look over him in his uniform.
"Wow Bucky! You look so handsome"
He chuckles softly as he moves closer to you, taking you by the hand and kissing your cheek.
"And you sweetheart" he spins you around "You look absolutely gorgeous"
You blush and thank him. Off you both go to the fair, hand in hand.
He takes you on some rides, sharing some cotton candy and chocolates. He even wins you a massive teddy. "Oh my god Bucky! What am I going to do with this!?"
"You can hug it... and think of me"
Kissing him on the cheek "Thank you"
"You're welcome darlin'"
As the night goes on, you meet up with Steve and Bucky introduced you to him. "He might be small doll but he's got a huge heart"
"Well from what I've heard you definitely stand up for what's right. It's lovely to meet you Steve"
He smiles and nods. "Maybe I'll catch you both later?"
"Yeah maybe, wouldn't count on it though punk. Don't do anything stupid!"
"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you!".
You and Bucky walk around some more and he asks you if you would like to go on the ferris wheel. You say yes and both of you run to get a seat. When right up at the top, you look over the fair down below.
"Wow, it's so beautiful. All the lights. You looking Bucky?"
You turn to him looking at you. "Oh yeah, I'm looking at the most beautiful thing in this fair"
Leaning over and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. When you pull away Bucky starts to cough.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm okay just uh, felt like there was a weight on my chest"
Placing your hand on his chest "What do you mean?"
His body turns cold, everywhere is aching. His breathing becomes a struggle.
"Bucky? Bucky!"
"Oh no.... Y/N hug me. Please hug me!"
"Why Bucky? What's going on!?"
"I- I'm about to wake up! Please juat hold me!"
But as soon as you reached over you were gone. His eyes open slowly, blurry vision. Everything aches. He places his hand on the cold floor.
"Soldat!"
The doors open on the cell and two guys pick him up off the ground and carry him all the way down the hall. His legs dragging behind.
They throw him into a chair and strap him down. They shove a mouth guard into his mouth and he braces for the pain. It feels like the shocks go on forever, screams so loud it could wake the dead.
The head gear pops off and he starts to hear the words. He can feel himself losing everything. All his memories. Stuff he's been trying to hang on to. Then he changes. It's like static and Bucky is gone"
