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Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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✦Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!✦
✦summary: bucky isn't your boss, but he's still off limits. and even if he wasn't, there's no way he'd ever go for someone like you. weird that he matched with you on a dating app then, isn't it?✦
✦warnings/tags: bucky barnes x female!reader, modern!au, ceo!bucky, no use of y/n, mutual pining, virgin!reader, dating apps, no description of reader (pictures for aesthetic only), fluff, angst, love confessions, kinda boss x secretary, plot to earn porn, feral level smut, (fingering, teasing, stripping, soft dom!bucky, dirty talk, mean bucky but you're into it, teasing, possiveness, mutual masturbation, pussy spanking, praise kink, manhandling, dumbification, big dick bucky, p in v sex, creampie), soft!bucky outside of smut✦
✦wc: 13.9k✦
✦Author's Note: this one is for all my wound up "want love but afraid of intimacy girlies". we go through it. Enjoy!✦
Bucky Barnes is ruining your life, and he doesn’t even know it.
You wish you could blame him. Slash his tires and scream in his face, maybe drain the oil from his bike or mess up his lunch order. But he wouldn’t deserve that, and you’d just end up homeless on the street. You’d have to sell your body, but you’ve never been that good at sales, and begging Steve for your job back wouldn’t get you anywhere when you’d just given his best friend food poisoning.
And Bucky wouldn’t deserve that. He’s perfect. He’s a mountain you’d love to scale, if you hadn’t always been horrid at climbing. You’d dig your nails into his chest, and maybe just keep him at eye level forever. So you could watch that quiet joy that only shines for the people he really, truly likes.
You’re a member of that rare club. It’s taken years of small kindness’ and lingering in Steve’s shadow to get there.
Even if you wanted to, you’d never risk ruining that just because of some schoolgirl crush. Not when Bucky might make your heart stumble and your face heat, but he hasn’t taken away your wits.
The same wits that tell you, it’s not worth the risk.
It will never be worth the risk. You worked too hard to get where you are. It’s too good a job, to burn up because you have a few fantasies. Steve Rogers famously went through assistant after assistant, before you. When you’d asked Natasha why—Steve’s a perfect boss, he lets you take hour long lunches and use sick time as PTO, as long as you don’t tell HR—she’d just shrugged.
“It’s not Steve that’s making them quit.” She’d hummed, like you were supposed to know exactly what that meant.
You hadn’t. You still don’t. Best guess, he thinks that everyone can keep up with him and forgets to slow down and match pace. But you can keep up with him just fine. Without breaking a sweat. Sometimes you out-pace him, and that earns you a loud, approving laugh and small smirk from Bucky.
Bucky.
James. You’re trying to call him James, in your head. It’s more formal. Creates a larger gap, between private fantasy and reality.
In fantasy, Bucky is a hazy voice that creeps into your dreams and rough stubble that brushes over your cheek. You tangle the sheets and blankets between your legs in bed, and pretend he’s there, holding you tight. Dreams and scenarios play out before you go to sleep, where he backs you against a wall and declares that he’s loved you since he first saw you. Or he shows up at your door in the middle of the night, pleading because he can’t take being away from you anymore. Maybe all his stares at conferences and meetings finally amount to something, and he grabs your jaw and kisses you so brutally you both just fall onto that soft couch in his office.
But Bucky doesn’t just stare at you. It’s one of his weird little quirks that Steve calls just Bucky, and Sam calls creepy and weird, he’s lucky we love him.
You do love him.
Bucky’s perfect. When you’d met him, he’d seemed as if he’d fallen out of a silver screen or leather-bound book. You’d never understood fantasies about powerful men, until one with the brilliance of fifty suns had been adjusting his cuffs in front of you. You’d barely been able to breathe, and it’s only gotten harder since you’ve known him.
At first look, Bucky’s a sharp jawline, dark hair, and eyes that follow you into your sleep. He’s cold and standoffish in that annoying way that makes the fool in your heart babble about how you could melt him. He snaps and orders and doesn’t waste time on things that don’t matter, and you’d like to hear how his voice could go soft, if you could make it.
That fool in your heart is loud. It tends to get the better of you, until the object of it’s fleeting obsession shatters the illusion by itself. Most of your crushes take a sledgehammer and destroy the heroic visage you’ve made of them in a second. You just have to wait for it, and they save you from themselves.
But Bucky likes to ruin your life.
It’s been a year, since Steve hired you. Fresh out of college, nervous, and with what Natasha called doe-eyes.
You love Bucky more than you did at the start, and it’s incredibly rude that he won’t just cut it out so you can focus.
“How’s your mother?” You ask one night, when it’s just you and Bucky.
James. When you’re alone in a room with him, and the white sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show off obnoxious muscles, it’s important to remember you should be calling him James.
“My… Mother.”
He’s staring at you like you’re crazy. Heat floods your cheeks, but you just nod. He doesn’t get to win.
“You said she was moving.” You shrug, and Bucky’s tongue flicks over his lips.
“I did say that.”
“Yeah. I know.” You pretend to turn over a paper. “I was there.”
Bucky snorts, and it’s enough to yank your attention up. He’s shaking his head with that tiny curve of a smile, and it makes your heart do something that might resemble overdrive.
“What?”
“Nothin’.”
“What-“
“My mother’s doin’ just fine.” Bucky says, staring at you across the room. “She loved those muffins you made her. Got me and my sisters in a lotta trouble, for not bothering to make her a housewarming gift.”
You swallow. “Oh, I- I didn’t mean to-“
“Don’t hurt yourself.” Bucky—James, but it’s impossible to remember when he looks at you like that—smirks. “I’d want you over me every time, too.”
There’s no possible response you can think of, to that. Not one that makes sense, and isn’t humiliating. You look back to your papers, mumble a thank you, and try not to let Bucky’s low chuckle pool heat between your thighs.
You don’t succeed.
But that’s a problem for your vibrator to worry about, when you get home.
Because that’s where the fantasy. And the reality is always starker. Harder to escape.
Bucky is a mountain of a man, but you’ve never climbed anything at all. Not a tiny hill, not a slope, not even a bump in the road. The most basic things, that most people get out of the way in middle school, you’ve never even brushed against. Not on purpose. It’s just… Never happened. And you’re certainly not going to start doing anything now. With your older pseudo-boss and sort of friend. You don’t have a death wish, and you’re certain that rejection will kill you with the humiliation alone.
So in reality, you’re never going to risk anything. You’ve never had health insurance this good before. Steve buys you lunch every day—technically he buys himself lunch, but you’re allowed to get whatever you want—and you got to move out of your rundown apartment with the landlady who kept getting mad you dared to have trash, but refused to fix your broken heater. In New York.
You haven’t had freezing fingers in a year. Because now, you could afford gloves. And in the harsh cold of reality, no dick is worth more than a nice pair of gloves.
Bucky’s might be. Bucky and his smile and low laugh and nobleness and silent kindness and-
No.
Nothing’s worth it. Not when Bucky wouldn’t even want you anyway.
You’d rather have the gloves.
“You get a plus one to this event, you know?”
You look at Steve over the desk, frowning slightly. “Huh?”
Steve’s lips twitch. “You get a plus one.”
“Okay?”
“Wasn’t sure you knew.” He shrugs. Your frown deepens.
“Of course I knew. I send out all the invitations.”
“Hm.”
“What’s hm? What does hm mean?”
“Just hm. Do you have the numbers, about-“
“They’re in front of you, Steven.” You narrow your eyes. “What’s hm mean.”
“Told you, nothing-“
“What.”
Sam says that there are only three people Steve is afraid of. Natasha, Bucky’s mother, and you. At the time, you’d laughed it off and rolled your eyes.
With how his throat bobs and he avoids your gaze, you’re starting to think that last part might be true.
“You’ve just always had that plus one offered.” Steve mutters, looking at the reports like they’ve suddenly turned into something interesting. “Noticed you never used it. Wanted to, uh- Make sure you knew.”
“I knew.” You snap, and Steve sighs.
“Yeah, I thought you did.”
“Then why’d you ask-“
“You wanna get lunch?” Steve’s voice raises, and the conversation is clearly over. “I think I could go for some sushi, or- Mexican. Maybe acai?”
Those are three very different things, and it is your job to figure out which one he really wants. But you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.
You have never used your plus one. You’ve never needed to.
There’s never been anyone worth using it on, except for one, dumb, handsome man who already has his own invitation to every event, and never has a problem finding his own date. You’ve spent dozens of nights lingering at Steve’s side—because he can tell you all he wants to enjoy yourself, you’ll slack when you’re dead—and glaring daggers at the model hanging off of Bucky’s arm. Giggling at everything he says and trying to drift closer than the polite, respectable distance he keeps them at.
He lets you sit closer to him than he lets them. And they are all a little younger, so maybe he wouldn’t mind that you’re not experienced and-
You stamp those thoughts under your heel. Not worth it.
But is Steve’s noticed how you never bring anyone, maybe he’s noticed how you stare at Bucky as well. And if he’s noticed that, he might start looking closer. And if he looks closer, he’s going to realize that you’re in love with his best friend, and he’s going to tell Bucky, and you’re going to get fired, and lose your cool apartment and fuck, you aren’t emotionally prepared to be a prostitute-
You need a date.
It’s the safest, most logical conclusion. You study Steve across the room, and quickly decide against asking to be set up. That might get back to Bucky, and you don’t want him to know for reason that defy common sense. You can’t ask anyone at work, but all your friends are your co-workers. You could go out to a bar, but that sounds dangerous and exhausting, and you’re not even sure where you’d find the time.
Which leaves one option.
Dating apps.
There are millions of them. You know from college friends and social media that there are about five worth having. You download all of them, and spend the rest of your lunch setting up your profile. You’re by no means ugly, and you’ve got plenty of pictures in exciting locations thanks to Steve being unable to get through any work event without you there. You put down that you’re not sure what you’re looking for, because you’re really not. You lie about your job, because when you tell people you’re Steve Roger’s personal assistant, they usually get weird. You settle just secretary, even though Steve and Natasha would shout at you if they saw.
They won’t see. None of them will see.
And you’ll get a nice, boring date to the next event, and everything is going to be fine.
“You never tell me about your family.”
Bucky’s words are so low you almost don’t hear them. You look up at him in surprise, and hope the dim lighting hides your flush.
“You never ask.”
His lips twitch down. “I’ve told you about my family.”
“So?”
“Usually.” He mutters, glaring at his papers like the did something to personally offend him. “When you tell someone about yourself, it’s an… Exchange of information.”
“An exchange of information?” You snort. “Is that a CIA thing?”
“Not everything I do is a CIA thing.”
“Everything Natasha does is a CIA thing. And you were in the CIA together.”
“Nat was better at it than I was.” He grumbles. His brow does a tight-knit wrinkle thing, when he’s frustrated. For a grown man, it’s always rather adorable. “I’d like to know about your family.”
“I…” You blink at him, your brain turning fuzzy and useless.
He’s staring at you. Saying those words like they matter, and you can barely understand them at all.
“Why?”
“Because. We’ve worked together a while. I know… A lot about you.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, giving you a strange look. “You know about me.”
“Uh huh. That’s usually how being friends works.”
Bucky sighs. “Yeah, well. You’ve met my mother. She adores you.”
“She doesn’t adore me-“
“She adores you.”
He says it like it’s really not up for debate. You flush. “Oh- Okay.”
“Everyone you meet adores you.” Bucky grumbles, like that complete lie of a statement infuriates him. “And I tell you everything about me.”
You don’t think that’s true either. You know a lot about Bucky, but not everything. Steve says Bucky’s just like that—not big on sharing—so you hoard every bit of information he offers you like a dragon with gold, but it’s far from everything. “Bu- James-“
“Bucky.” He corrects, and you sigh.
He’s not making that part easy, either.
“Bucky.” You say, smooth and careful. “You know everything about me that Steve knows. I- I can tell you more. But I’m not all that interesting.”
“I disagree.” He mutters. “You’re impossibly interesting.”
You can only hum, pressing your thighs together as he just keeps staring at you. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that. It makes your brain slow down and all your thoughts turn honeyed and gooey. His hands are right in your eyeline, and he’s got those big, deft fingers that you’ve imagined tracing over your hips and lips, and he’s giving you compliments. Compliments like they’re just breathing, like he doesn’t even have to think about them because you could be all he sees.
“What do you want to know?” You mumble, desperate to move the conversation away from this. If you offer yourself too much of his attention, it’s going to drag you under like quicksand.
“What’s your favorite kind of flower?”
“My favorite flower-“
Bucky grunts, nodding tightly. You take a deep, slow breath, careful not to look him in the eyes.
“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
Bucky grunts. “Well, what kinda flowers have people gotten you before.”
“I- I’ve never been given flowers.”
“You’ve never-“ Bucky cuts himself off, and you risk a glance up to see him scowling. “Ever?”
You can hear the what about that he won’t say. What about a boyfriend.
If he’s not brave enough to ask it—although you don’t understand why he’d care—you don’t have to be brave enough to answer it.
“No. Never ever.” You mumble, and you might dissolve into a mist of humid humiliation and confusing arousal.
You have Bucky’s attention, and you both wish he’d take it back and never want him to stop pushing. You’ve never had someone poke at you this much. It makes your core ache, and you’d rally rather not explore what that means right now.
“You need to sign these.” You shove some papers across the desk, staring at Bucky’s hands again.
They’re curled in fists. You’d like them inside you-
You mentally slap yourself, and force a smile onto your face, nodding to the papers. “Steve told me not to let you go home, until you did.”
Bucky chuckles at that, though there’s still a strange look in his eyes. “Not let me go home, huh.”
“Yes, sir.” You drawl.
Bucky’s knuckles go white. You could swear his voice gets lower.
“And how would you stop me from gettin’ home, kid?”
“With lots of talent.” You shrug, giving him a tiny smile. “And my body.”
Bucky coughs, and the desk jerks suddenly. His knee must’ve slammed against it. You shoot to your feet, ready to check on him, but he waves you quickly back down.
“Fine. I’m fine.” He scowls, scooting forward in his chair. “Papers.”
He makes a beckoning gesture, and you just stare at him.
“James, are you-“
“Bucky.” He grunts. “Papers, sweetheart.”
You nod stupidly, shoving the papers into his hands. You’re not sure what’s happening. Your thoughts are all still made of candy-clouds and goo, so you don’t want to overthink it.
It’s only when you get home, that you realize what he called you. I
Sweetheart.
You can’t blame him. He can’t know what that does to you.
You really need to find that date.
It happens in the middle of work. The worst possible place for it to happen.
Steve’s on a conference call, and you’re lying on his couch, swiping through dating apps. You’re only there in case he forgets something, and you don’t have to pay much attention for that. The voices of old, annoying men drone on and on and on in the background, and you have everything memorized so well that when Steve calls your name, you answer without even realty paying attention to what you’re saying.
The call is three hours for no good reason at all. You get bored.
Hence, the dating apps.
It’s almost as mindless as the call itself. All in all, the experience is turning out to be more of a fun game than an actual method to find a date. The next gala is creeping up, though. You refuse to give up.
But you’re also picky. And you keep comparing every profile you see to Bucky, which is deeply counterproductive.
Michael is handsome, and the exact same height as Bucky, but he’s built with corded muscle instead of the softer, thicker strength you’ve seen straining through Bucky’s suit. Henry has a picture of himself with kids—his sister’s, according to the caption—but you look at it and just think of when Bucky and Steve went to the children’s hospital, and Bucky had become such a soft and approachable person you’d been worried you’d get pregnant watching him.
Leon has nice eyes, but they’re not as pretty as Bucky’s. Cal is in the military, but he’s beaming about it in a way that makes you think he joined so he could run around with a big gun, while Bucky joined because his family needed the healthcare. Jake has a sweet smile, but it doesn’t make you feel bubbly like Bucky’s. Asher and Kyle both have high paying jobs—all their photos showing them driving Maserati’s and drinking expensive whiskey—but one of the things you’ve always loved about Bucky is how he doesn’t brag. His suits are less expensive and more well-tailored. His watch costs $150—he always grumbles that he just needs it to tell time—and he drives a motorcycle that Sam says he built from scratch.
You squint at Damien’s profile, and he’s got a motorcycle too. His caption says that he built it himself, and you don’t know anything about motorcycles, but you doubt he built it as well as Bucky did.
You swipe left with a sigh, and go onto the next profile.
James. 41. Business Manager. You give the picture a quick glance—beefy, shirtless chest that makes you drool a little, only the sharp, bearded jawline of the owner visible in the photo—and squint at the bio. Wealthy bachelor looking for his Queen.
You snort, and scroll lazily down. James’ Interests include music, cars, technology, dancing, family. No kids, but wants them. Looking for casual fun—you can’t be causal, or have fun, but it’s always nice to pretend—located thirty feet away, pet cat, smokes and drinks socially-
Located thirty feet away.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
You sit up suddenly, rapidly scrolling back up to the photos and main bio. James, 41, Business Manager.
Fucking- Fuck-
You click frantically through the photos, somehow burning alive and freezing to your bones all at once. James’ next photo doesn’t show his face either, instead displaying a fluffy white cat on his bare chest. You know that cat. You’ve fed and pet her, paying her more attention than Bucky himself whenever he brings her to the office. Alpine adores you. You have more photos of her on your phone than you do of yourself.
Next photo.
Bucky drinking at that Italian place he, Steve, and Sam always go to for celebrations. In the background, you can see Natasha flirting with the bartender. You remember that night. She’d taken him home, and you’d heard far too many details about how hot and submissive he was in the morning. You’d been happy for her, and sick with jealousy. You’d spent all of that night standing next to her, trying not to stare at Bucky while he and Steve drank.
Which means-
You pinch in on the photo, feeling a little sick when you find it. Shrouded enough in the background that you can only see it if you look, but you can definitely fucking see it.
Your lovelorn, sad expression as you stare at Bucky like he’s made of stars.
He’s seen this photo. Everyone who’s been on his dating profile has seen this photo.
You feel sick. You unpinch the photo, ready to maybe just fall back into the couch cushions and have them swallow you whole, and then it fucking happens.
Your thumb drifts a little to the right.
You swipe yes on Bucky’s profile.
And a little heart graphic overtakes your screen, the bolded words It’s a Match! Shoved into your face.
You scream, and throw your phone across the room.
Steve looks at you like you’re insane. You feel insane.
“Are you-“
“I need to go to the bathroom!” You shout, and Steve opens his mouth, but you’re already running.
You have to pass Bucky’s office—right next to Steve’s—to get to the bathroom. You pause to stare at him, unable to form any coherent thoughts but fuck and Bucky.
He’s on his phone. Reading something with a knit brow. You might actually be about to throw up.
Like he can sense you, he looks up.
Your eyes meet.
And you run away, as fast as you fucking can.
Steve is a lovely boss. When you tell him you need a week off for vague personal reasons, but that you can still work remotely, he tells you not to bother and just take the time without work.
“But- I can help-“
“I know. I’m telling you not to.” He gives you a small smile. “You’ve earned the break.”
“Steve-“
“You’re allowed to just rest,” he says your name kindly, and you shake your head. No. You’re not.
“Please give me something to do.” You plead, and Steve sighs.
“Kid, you don’t have to prove something-“
“Please.” If you don’t have anything, you’re just going to stare at your match with Bucky the whole time. And that’s a harrowing, deadly prospect of a way to spend your week.
Steve sighs, and gives in. You get a bunch of emails to send, and they’re just enough to distract you.
Barely.
Sometimes, you still manage to falter, and open up the app. Stare at the you matched with James three days ago! Banner at the top of the screen. Maybe he hasn’t seen it at all, and you’re hiding for no reason. He could be someone who never even checks who he matches with unless they message first, because he just gets so many matches. Jealousy stabs through your heart, sour and sharp, and you sigh.
It’s your best hope. That he’ll just never know.
But he matched with you, too.
He could just swipe right on every girl he sees. That’s a thing you hear men do.
Bucky’s not the type to do that.
He’s also not the type to be looking for his Queen. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.
But you’re pretty sure you do.
This is making your head hurt.
Your real best bet is that someone’s been catfishing as James Barnes, but there’s no real hope of that with the bar photo. You’re going to have to quit your job and change your name. Maybe Steve can reference you to another similar job if you apologize enough. Maybe you can move to Alaska and learn how to be a fisherwoman. You’re not very patient. And you’re not going to be able to afford your nice gloves anymore. Maybe you should just die. The best option might just be dying-
Your phone buzzes.
Message from James.
You throw your phone again. He knows.
Death is looking lovely right now.
Your days off turn into a week off. Steve checks on you, but doesn’t push you to come back. If anything, he’s still trying to convince you to just take a real vacation.
“It’s going to help more than… What you’re doing right now.” He stands in the middle of your apartment, gesturing at your ice cream and the mess of clothing on the floor.
“This is helping plenty.” You mutter. Steve sighs.
“Look, I’m really not mad about you taking the time. I know you. You wouldn’t take it if you didn’t need it.”
“But?” You give him a pointed look, and his jaw ticks.
“But I wish you’d tell me what was goin’ on.” He says, sounding more sad than annoyed. “So I could help.”
You give him a tight smile. “Steve-“
“Anything you need. If I can’t get it, I’m sure Bucky or Nat could-“
“Steve.” You don’t want to hear about how Bucky can help you. Not when he knows perfectly well why you’ve gone into hiding. “I- I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Steve frowns, but lets it go. In the Steve way, where he keeps asking every time he visits, but always takes the no in stride.
“Can you at least tell me what I should be saying to everyone else?” He asks after a week. “People are noticing I’m missing my brain.”
You laugh softly. “I’m sick.”
“But you’re not.”
Not visibly. Your heart feels sick. Bucky’s sent you two more messages on the app, one into your personal number, and none on Teams, and you’ve read none of them. You don’t want to hear his gentle rejection, because it’s going to crush you into fine, little pieces.
“We’re worried about you.” Steve says. “And again, no rush to come back, but I don’t know how to work my own schedule and Bucky’s started pacing whenever I try to do your job, so-“
“Bucky’s pacing?” You blurt, and Steve blinks.
“Yeah? Think he misses you, too.”
You swallow, and glance at your phone. The unread messages.
Bucky only paces when he feels like something is wrong. Really wrong.
And you don’t want to know. That he’s been thinking about. That he’s been pacing. Because it all ends the same anyway.
“I’ll be back soon.” You mumble, flipping your phone face down. You don’t want to know. “Just- A few more days.”
Steve looks at you like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t believe you.
But you’re a big girl. You can survive a little rejection, and it doesn’t have to be anything at all.
You’re going to keep going, and this won’t have to have been anything at all.
Nobody asks, when you get back to the office. Nat and Sam check in that you’re okay, and Steve lets you pick lunch three days in a row—and you think he’s blaming himself for everything, which at least tells you that Bucky hasn’t snitched about anything—but the only thing waiting for you is a phone full of voicemails and a crowded calendar.
And Bucky.
Bucky, who almost acts like nothing even happened at all.
Almost.
He’s staring more than he used to, and he’d always stared quite a lot. When you’re left alone in a room together, he stares until you look up at him, before immediately coughing and looking back to his own papers. He lingers outside of Steve’s office until you ask if he needs to talk, and he shakes his head and runs off like a teenager caught trying to buy drinks. Nat shouts at him after two meetings where he wasn’t paying attention, and he mutters that he was distracted.
“What?! What could you possibly have been so distracted by that you missed every cue Sam gave you, five times in a row?”
He just shrugs, and you can feel his gaze burning straight into your heart. You bow your head, and pretend you don’t see it.
You still haven’t looked at the messages. You’re not going to. And he hasn’t brought it up, so it’s like nothing ever happened.
Like nothing ever happened.
But it happened. The world ended, but it also just kept spinning, and now you’re suspended in a world where Bucky doesn’t even treat you like a friend anymore.
Steve notices. Of course he does. Asshole.
“Did something happen?” He asks softly. “Did Bucky… Say something to you?”
You look up with wide eyes, mouth going dry. “Wha- What? No, Bucky- James and I, it’s fine.” You laugh, high and nervous. “Everything’s fine.”
Steve hums, and he doesn’t believe you. You can see it, shining in his eyes. “You know… I’ve known Bucky a long time.”
“I know. I’ve read the about page.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I mean, yes, but-“ He sighs. “Bucky’s not good at… Talking. When something matters to him, he shows it.”
“Okay.” He’s shown you nothing but silence and stares.
“And he, um- He’s a good guy-“
“I’m aware.”
“I know you are, but-“ Steve sighs, slumping in his chair. “Just, if Bucky ever says something to you, or asks you to do something, and you don’t want to, don’t. I’d rather you piss him off then feel pressured. Not that he’d pressure you,” he adds quickly. “But if there’s ever… Anything. And I’ve been wrong about… Stuff. Just know you’re as valuable as he is.”
He’s speaking in riddles. This has been a long few weeks. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Steve nods, taking in a deep breath. “And is there… Anything you want to tell me? As my friend?”
It’s a mean card to play. You almost want to. Steve’s kind, and he gives good advice, and you believe him. You know that if you confessed your silent, raging love for Bucky, Steve would just support you.
But you don’t need someone to support you right now. You need someone to smack you in the face and tell you to stop being a baby about your crush not liking you back.
“No.” You give him a strained smile, and it hurts on your face. “Why, is there something you need to tell me?”
Steve stares at you for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “No. Just… You were missed.”
There’s a long moment of silence, and Steve clears his throat.
“By everyone.”
You nod, useless tears stinging at your eyes, and look back to your work.
Later that day, Bucky goes into Steve’s office and they talk for two hours. You want to eavesdrop, but that would be a new, pathetic low.
You stare at Bucky’s head through the glass, and chew on a pencil until it snaps in half.
When Bucky leaves the office, he stops in front of your desk and lingers. You can feel the heat from his body, and you’d like to fall into it. He clears his throat, and you look up like he’d grabbed your chin and demanded it.
His eyes are shining on yours, and you’ve never seen his jaw clenched so tight. As if he’s disgusted, just from the sight of you.
“You look nice.” He rasps, and you can’t tell if you’re glowing or burning out.
“Thank you.”
He nods, looking up to the ceiling, then back to you. “We all missed you.”
“I’ve been told-“
“I missed you.” He says those words firmer. They sink into your core, molten and demanding, so overwhelming you’re not even sure what to do with yourself.
You’ve been staring at him too long. Words are failing you, thoughts are failing you, and-
“I, uh- I’ll leave you to it-“
“You too.” You breathe out, and Bucky stumbles back like you hit him. “I- I missed you too.”
He blinks. His nostrils flare, and he gapes at you with a red face. For a second, you don’t see the calm, collected man you know and adore so well. You see something closer to a teenage boy, fumbling and gaping and unsure what to do with his own strength.
You like him, just as much as you like the rest of Bucky. Love it.
Endlessly and uselessly love it.
Bucky turns on his heels, and almost runs back to his office. Your nails dig into your palms, and you force your attention back to your work.
It will pass. All of this, like every storm, is going to have to pass.
You get a night off. Steve has a date, and it’s the one part of his life you have and want nothing to do with. You were going to use the evening to catch up on more voicemails, until Sam shooed you out of the building like a bird. Go rest, woman.
You are resting.
By catching up on emails.
There’s a knock on your door, long after anyone should be out doing anything. You don’t move from the couch at first, because you think it’s a mistake.
Then the knock repeats. Louder than the first time. And someone shouts your name, muffled through the door.
Not a mistake.
Bucky. That’s Bucky’s voice.
You fall, trying to get up. Your knees feel like jelly, and you haven’t even seen him yet, but he’s already doing that thing where his attention makes you feel like you’re made of electric static. Sensitive and empty-headed in the best and worst way. You can barely stand it. You can’t really stand at all.
When you finally—somehow—make it to the door, Bucky’s standing on the other side like he’s awaiting inspection. Tall and silent, shoulders squared and arms behind his back, looking at you like you’re holding his life in your hands.
You stare at him. He stares back, and you can measure your every breath in heartbeats. Louder and louder in your ears.
“Hi.” You finally say, shifting on your feet, and his throat bobs.
“Hey.”
“What’re you-“
“I wanted to check on you.” He blurts, and you freeze. “And- Talk.”
You ignore that last part. It’s the last thing you want to do. “I’m fine.”
Bucky’s pretty lips tug down. “You took two weeks off.” He mutters. “You don’t even take sick days.”
You swallow. “I- I was trying to take care of myself-“
“By working the whole time?” He looks past you again, and you follow his gaze.
Right to your laptop, open on an email draft.
“You’re supposed to be takin’ tonight off too.” He says, a little scolding, and you stiffen.
“You’re not my boss.”
Bucky chuckles. Low and deep, shivering up your spine. “Trust me, doll. I’m fully aware of that.”
Oh. That does something nice to your core. You think you might be getting a fever.
“James…”
“Bucky.” He grunts, and you take an unsteady breath. Staring at his chest seems to be the most effective way to speak to him.
“Bucky, I- I’m fine, really-“
“I brought you flowers.” He says suddenly, and his hands shoot out from behind his back.
He’s holding out a large bouquet of roses and lilies, each in about three different colors. It’s a stark contrast to his black suit and neatly pressed white shirt, petals spilling and little bits of yellow pollen clinging to the stems. To the cuffs of his sleeves.
Bucky clears his throat, pushing the flowers a little further forward. You take them with shaking hands, a little worried they’ll dissolve the moment you touch them. They don’t. And Bucky clears his throat.
“I, uh- I gave you options, and-“ He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I come in? Please?”
You can’t think of a good reason to say no. You don’t even think you’d get out the words, if you tried. So you nod, and step to the side.
And now Bucky’s in your apartment. Looking around at your things and licking his lips, nodding slowly. He fits into it, like a puzzle piece being slowly slotted in, and-
No.
You can’t think like that. It’s not going to help anyone, not by far.
He brought you flowers.
To apologize for breaking your heart.
Bucky looks back to you, bracing his hands on his hips. You swallow, hugging yourself tight, and neither of you dare to move. Bucky takes a ragged breath, looks to the side, and back to you with the strangest, most anguished expression you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.
“Tell me if I’m steppin’ over the line.” He starts, urgent and pleading. “You gotta tell me if I’m steppin’ over the line.”
“Bucky-“
“We both know why I’m here.” He takes a step forward. You take a step back.
Bucky freezes, and you take a shaking breath, staring at his shoes.
“I- I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I didn’t mean to-“
“You didn’t?” Bucky cuts you off, and you glance up to see him frowning. “At all?”
You blink. “No, I- I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you meant it?”
You nod, and Bucky’s jaw works tight.
“Could you?”
“What?”
“Could you mean it?” He rasps, and your mouth falls uselessly open.
“Ja- Bucky.” You shake your head, stepping further back. If this is a trick, you’re too fragile to fall for it. “I- I don’t know.”
“Why not?” He takes a step forward, your eyes trapped together. “Is it me?”
“Is it you?”
“Yeah, I- I mean- You don’t really date.” He clears his throat. “And Stevie’s never told me why, ‘cause- I’m not your boss, but I’m not not your boss- ‘s what Sam says-“
You’ve never heard him ramble. Never heard him speak like he’s not sure of the next work. It’s just as endearing as the display at the desk, but you’re even less sure what to do with it. “Bucky-“
“If it’s just me that you’re not- That’s the reason.” He’s standing over you now. Bowing his head. “Then that’s fine. I’m not gonna be an ass about it. But…” His shoulders slump. “If it’s not that. Then I- I’d like to…”
He trails off, giving you a hopeful look.
But you’re lost. Nothing he’s saying is making sense, and you’re almost being dragged under by the current of his words.
“What?” You repeat, more pleading than before. Bucky sighs.
“You never answered my messages.” He mutters. “Figured I’d need to ask in person. Needed to hear it.” He clears his throat, lips twitching. “Even if it’s a no.”
“Even…” You frown. “Even if what’s a no?”
His head shoots up, and his frown deepens. “I’m… Asking you out. On a date?”
Oh.
What.
Your surprise must be written all over your face, because Bucky looks bewildered. He can join the club.
You just keep staring at him stupidly, and he says your name, slow and measured.
“You read my messages, right?”
You shake your head, and he groans.
“I- I’m sorry-“
“No, it’s- It’s my fault.” He mutters. “Nat told me you were oblivious-“
You cut him off indignantly. “I am not oblivious-“
“We matched on a dating app.” He drawls, lips twitching slightly. “And you’re shocked I’m askin’ you out.”
You scowl, hugging yourself tighter. “I thought you made a mistake.” You grumble, and Bucky chuckles.
He takes another step forward. Close enough that you can smell him, smell his cologne and aftershave and something deeper that’s just Bucky. You step back more out of fear that you were about to fall forward.
Bucky follows you.
Suddenly your pinned against your counters, Bucky’s arms braced on either side of your body. You swallow. Bucky’s tongue darts over his lips, and you think you did drown in his everything. You’ve been swept out to sea, and there’s no hope of being dragged out to shore.
And with how Bucky’s looking at you, you’re not sure you’d ever ask to be saved.
“You.” Bucky reaches up, brushing hair out of your eyes with a small smile. “Are not a mistake. And if someone’s been tellin’ you that you are.” He leans down, until your lips are almost brushing. “They’re damn lucky you’re lettin’ them make it.”
Dear God. You’re not strong enough for this.
“James…” You breathe out, and his brows knit. “Bucky. Don’t.”
He tenses around you. “Don’t?”
“Don’t.” You whisper, eyes dropping to his lips. They look so soft. “Don’t do this.”
Bucky leans a little back, but doesn’t pull fully away. “Why not? I told you, if it’s not ‘cause of me, we can work it out-“
“Bucky-“
“I’ll quit.” He says suddenly, and you gape.
“You’re the boss, you can’t quit-“
“There are like, four bosses.” Bucky waves you off. “Five if we’re countin’ you, which I am, and you do twice the fuckin’ work. I’ll just quit, and you can have my job, and we can-“
“Bucky.” You grab his shirt, and he falls silent immediately. “Just- Stop. You can’t quit, you shouldn’t-“ You take a deep breath, trying to focus on speaking instead of crying.
Bucky says your name softly, and big hands thread through your hair as you start to sniffle. It’s so pathetic, but you’re tired and overwhelmed and you can’t take him doing this to you twice. You’re not the kind of girl Bucky Barnes is going to want. Not for real. Not for long. And you can’t handle him pretending you are.
“It’s not nice.” You whimper, even as he tugs you into his chest.
Pressing your face into his chest is just as amazing as you’d always imagined. You wish you weren’t crying when it finally happened.
“What’s not nice.” Bucky prompts gently, and you swallow.
“You.”
“Me?”
You nod, wrapping your arms around his torso. Bucky pets the back of your head, words low and cautious.
“What about me isn’t nice?”
You shake your head, hugging him tighter. You can’t stop. It’s like a reflex. “You can’t- You can’t say that stuff. ‘S mean.”
“Me tellin’ you I’d quit for you is mean?”
“You don’t mean it.”
Bucky tenses. “I do mean it-“
“No, it’s not- I’m not-“ You swallow, breathing him in. “I don’t just wanna be…”
You trail off. Bucky prompts you softly. “Be what?”
“Be fun.” You mumble. “I can’t do fun, you know than, and- And if you’re not serious, then-“
“I’m dead serious.” Bucky grunts, and you swallow.
“James-“
“No. Listen to me.” He picks you up without a warning, sitting you on the counter so you’re at his eye level. You grab his shoulders, and he keeps his hands planted on your hips, almost holding you under his words.
Forcing you to hear them, as he watches you like you’re the most important thing in the world.
“I am serious about this. About you.” He grabs one of your hands, holding it between your bodies. “I have wanted you since I met you. Don’t look at me like that,” he squeezes your hand when you give him a doubtful frown. “I have. You are beautiful and smart and bossy, and I’ve been obsessed with you so much, Nat’s slapped me about it twice.”
You swallow, closing your eyes tight. You can’t look at him right now. “Your profile said looking for casual.” You mutter, and Bucky snorts.
“Last year, Sam made that thing for me. ‘Cause I was obsessed with Stevie’s new PA, and I needed to get under someone to get over it.”
“Hm.” You peek at him. He looks sincere. “Did you?”
“I got under many someone’s.” He shrugs. “Didn’t have Sam’s intended effect. Think I just wanted you more, after every time.”
You swallow. That does explain a lot about the profile, in hindsight. Those were all very Sam things to say.
“I want you.” Bucky murmurs, pressing a little closer. Your noses are bumping, and he’s still not looking away. “You’re in my dreams, and days without you are nightmares. Just- One shot. It’s all I need. Please.”
And God, you want to give it to him. More than anything. You want to tell him that he doesn’t even need his shot, he hit a bullseye a year ago and you’ve just been waiting for him to realize it since.
But-
“I’m a virgin.” You blurt, and Bucky blinks.
“Okay-“
“I can’t do what others can. For you. And I- I don’t know how anything works- Well, I know how sex works, I got an A in health class, but everyone got an A in health, but I got an A and paid attention, and-“ You’re rambling. “I just don’t know how dating works, or- Or relationships, and I’m not- You’re very- You.”
You gesture over his everything, and Bucky’s lips twitch.
“That a problem, doll?”
“No. God, no. You’re perfect, I’m just- Not? And that’s not really fair to you-“
Bucky grabs your face, and your cut off in a kiss.
You’ve seen kissing in the movies and on TV. Read about it a million times. It’s always all sweet and romantic, with swelling music and breeze and passion.
And nothing has done it justice at all.
Kissing Bucky is awkward for a second—his lips slotted over yours, your whole body frozen as it shuts down, then reboots—and then it’s like breathing. Your hands fly back to his shoulders, your legs spread so you can lean further forwards, and your lips move without a thought. Pressing against Bucky’s, moving in a dance he seems more than happy to lead, chasing at the slight chance that you could have just a little more.
One of Bucky’s hands finds this back of your head, and the other grabs your waist. Dragging you further forward until your chests are pressed tight, massaging the softness there in rhythm with his lips. You sigh, breathy and content, and Bucky presses further down. He’s all you can feel, muscle under your hands and love pounding in your heart. You nails scrape his neck, and he groans into the kiss.
The sound vibrates against your spread thighs. His hand on your waist flexes, fingers digging into the softness, and you gasp.
Bucky pulls back too fast, and you follow. Tugging him back, unwilling to let him go just yet. He follows for a second, tongue tracing over your lower lip, then yanks himself back.
His brow presses against yours, and you both breathe raggedly.
“I like you.” Bucky almost growls. His thumb presses over your swollen lips, palm cupping your cheek, and you melt further into him than you already were.
“Bucky-“
“You’re what I want.” He leans forward, demanding and pleading all at once. “Your body.” He pushes his hand under your shirt, rough fingers dragging against sensitive skin. “Is a bonus.”
You shiver, whimpering softly. You feel pliant. Dizzy, in a way that no flirting or video has ever rendered you before. You think Bucky might’ve sucked your soul out with that kiss. You’d like him to do it again.
But when you try to lean up, Bucky pushes you gently back down. You whine, and his lips twitch.
“You like me too.” He mutters, watching you like he’s somehow still unsure.
“Mhm.” You say, and he stands a little taller.
“How long-“
“The same.”
“Oh.” He grins. “Good. That’s- Good-“
You slam back up, kissing him with an open mouth and sloppy need. Bucky responds immediately, and heat is starting to build between your thighs. It’s not just going to go away with a little touching and petting. It’s almost painful. You need him.
Bucky pulls away again. You’re going to punch him.
“Jesus.” He mutters, staring down at your desperate expression. “You gotta slow down, baby-“
“Don’t want to.” You breathe, pulling at his shirt. “Want you, Bucky. Want you now.”
His throat bobs, eyes darkening, but he remains composed. “You… You’re a virgin-“
“Then show me.”
Bucky says your name, and now he’s the one begging. But you’re not letting him off this easy.
“Show me, Bucky.” You rest your chin on his chest, giving him your best pout.
He grabs your face between big hands, chest heaving as he stares at you. You offer a sweet smile, and his nostrils flare.
“Please.” You whisper. “Anything. I just want to feel you.”
“Feel me.” He echoes, like he can’t believe it. “You wanna feel me?”
You nod, and he presses his brow over yours his, his eyes squeezed shut.
“And you want me to show you.” He rasps. “All the different ways I can make you feel good.”
You nod frantically, almost clawing at his shirt. Bucky’s eyes shoot open.
“Yeah?” He grunts, and you whine.
“Yeah. Yes. Please-“
He grabs your jaw, grip hard and unyielding, folds over you like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. His lips move, harsh and hungry, and his hand on your hip starts to knead the skin like he’s trying to leave a mark.
“Wanted this for so long.” He grunts, dragging his hand down to squeeze your ass. “Wanted you. So fuckin’ bad.”
You moan into his mouth, and Bucky sucks on your lower lip. You can’t have enough of him. He’s warm and leaves little fires everywhere he touches. You’d like them to sweep through you, overtake you and send you higher.
“So gorgeous.” Bucky’s hand moves lower, resting on your upper thigh. “Thought about you all the time, hated bein’ in a room and not getting to touch you, was so sure I was going to lose my damn mind not havin’ you be mine.”
“I- I wanted you too.” You breathe out, almost delirious from his kisses. “Always wanted it to be you, never- Oh-“
You lose your ability to speak for a second, when Bucky starts to kiss under your ear. Your body goes pliant and soft, and his growl against your skin sends a shiver up your spine. He’s holding the back of your neck now, guiding it to offer himself better access. You tug on his hair and he moans. It makes your knees wobbly.
“Never anyone else,” you breathe, and he seems to like that. The massive hand on your thigh shifts slightly, so Bucky’s thick fingers are grazing your core through your clothing.
It’s a perfect pressure where you’d been craving any of his attention, and it’s a promise of more later. Your legs give out, eyes fluttering as your brain short circuits with arousal.
Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as he sits you on the counter, back arching as he captures your mouth in another kiss.
“No one else.” He mutters, hand on your neck slowly, possessively moving down your spine. “Never gonna be anyone else, doll. Not for you,” he nips at your jaw, hand on your thigh teasing the sensitivity under your shirt. “Sure as shit not for me. Been no one else since I started thinkin’ of you.”
Your breath hitches, and you lean back with wide eyes. “Bucky, you don’t have to-“
“I’m not lying.” He says firmly, dropping his brow against yours. You try to lean back, but he grabs your chin, forcing your eyes back together.
You blink at him hopelessly, grabbing at the collar of his shirt like you’re looking for balance. Bucky gives you a tiny smile, pressing his lips sweetly over yours. Another, softer promise.
“No one,” he murmurs. “Was ever gonna live up to you. First few months I’d fuck a girl and feel sick the next day. Like I’d done you wrong.”
“You- You didn’t-“
“Yeah, I did. We coulda been doin’ this a lot sooner.”
You flush, looking down to where your bodies are pressed so tight together. Bucky’s dress shirt and hidden muscle, both hard and gentle all at once. Your sleeping clothes and bare feet, swinging off the counter. You lean a little further into him, suddenly feeling rather small.
“What if I’m not…” You take a deep breath, frowning at the floor. “What if I don’t-“
Bucky says your name, concerned and caring, and you shake your head.
“What if I’m not the fantasy, Bucky.” You look back up with your best pleading eyes. “What if that- That idea of me isn’t worth what you thought?”
His brows knit tight, and you try to shirk away as he studies you. You can’t tell if you like it or not, but you know you feel bare. And you both want him to look away, and never go where you can’t reach him again.
Bucky’s lips twitch. He leans forward slowly, kissing each corner of your mouth before taking it fully under his. The kiss is hot and commanding, almost forcing your brain to slow back down. You dissolve into it, your thoughts a nice haze of Bucky. He guides your legs a little further apart, and takes both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them behind you.
“I love you,” he mutters. “I told you. And remember,” he pulls back with that lovely, secret smile. “I’m helpin’ you through it, right?”
You nod, and Bucky leans back forward, bumping your noses together.
“Trust me?”
“Yes.” You breathe, and he grins.
“Good girl.”
Heat floods between your legs, and oh. You like that. You’re shaking a little bit, you like it so much. Want it so much. Want Bucky.
Like he’s reading your mind, he rasps against your lips. “You enjoyed other things before?”
You nod, unable to tell if that’s another flush or just how turned on you are, and Bucky smirks.
“Like what?” He kisses your cheek, massaging your thighs. “Tell me what you like, sweetheart. What you want.”
“I- I want to be under.” You whisper, and you think his hands might be magic. Pulling answers out of you that you would’ve rather died with an hour ago. “Want you over me. Tell- Telling me what to do.”
Bucky hums, nosing at your neck. You close your eyes, forcing on.
“Tell- Tell me how good I’m doing. And- Other stuff.”
He leans back, and your core throbs at the shine in his eyes. Like he’s going to eat you alive. “Other stuff?” He rasps, and you nod weakly.
“If you can- Can do that.” It’s hard to focus, between his piercing gaze and the hand wandering between your legs. Teasing your inner thigh, until you’re voice is high and breathy. “Do that, and- and be-“
“Be a little mean?” He coos, thumb pressing over your aching button. You swallow, and nod.
“A little mean.” You echo, and Bucky grins.
“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses you again, slow and romantic, and you barely notice his hand moving away. “Think that’s enough outta you for now.”
“Wha- Bucky-“
He steps away. Without warning, Bucky just backs up, and you almost fall off the counter trying to chase him. He laughs, and pushing you back into place in a second, then moves away again. Where you can’t follow.
“Bucky, come back-“
“Nope.” He grins, like he knows you’re already too lost to chase him. He probably does. Asshole. “You want me to show you?”
You scowl. “James-“
“Call me whatever you want, baby. You ain’t gonna be able to talk at the end, anyway.” He braces his hands on his hips, raising a brow. “Want me to show you.”
He won’t come back until you answer, so you just nod, crossing your arms like a scolded child. Bucky grins, and you’re hoping for another good girl and kiss, but he doesn’t even lean closer.
“Alright.” He stands a little taller. “Strip.”
You blink at him. “What?”
“Strip.”
“Like, completely?”
“Hm.” He pauses, raking over your body in a way that really shouldn’t make you feel more turned on. “Yep. All of this, off.”
He waves to your body, and gives you a silent, challenging look. Like he’s expecting you to go back, and ask for that date first.
But at this point, you’re going to explode if he doesn’t make you cum. And you’ve never backed down from him before. You have no interest in starting now.
Slowly, you peel off your sweater. Your shirt. The cold air hits your bare chest, and not wearing a bra was the right choice. Bucky’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, the evidence of your effect on him straining through his pants.
Your nipples are peaked, and you awkwardly palm at them the way you’ve seen in porn. Bucky shifts on his feet, hand flexing like he’s trying not to reach for you, so you repeat the motion again.
“Pants.” He grunts, and you smile sweetly.
“Please?”
Bucky chuckles, like he can’t believe you. “Jesus, woman-“
“It’s polite-“
“If you don’t take your pants off.” He grunts, giving you a firm look. “I’m gonna rip off your pants and fuck you on this counter right now.”
You swallow. That doesn’t sound all that bad, but-
Something foolish and lovesick inside of your chest demands that tonight be special. So you move on from your breast, but give Bucky a nervous smile.
“Next time?”
He softens slightly, and nods. “Next time. Pants.”
You smile, and he smiles back. But the expression quickly shifts back into desire, as you shuffle out of your pants. You take your underwear down in one motion as well, leaving you completely exposed. At Bucky’s mercy.
And he’s just watching you.
Watching you and rubbing his crotch, where an erection is demanding attention. The lewd sight makes you fuzzy in all the right places, your own legs spreading a little wider apart.
You need him so bad it hurts. Your fingers dip into your wet pussy, clumsily rubbing your clit, and Bucky groans.
Suddenly he’s back against you, staring at your hand between your legs and panting like a dog.
“Look at you.” He groans, dragging his gaze back up your naked body. “Better than a dream.”
“Thank you.” Your hips buck up against your own, suddenly flimsy and useless hand. You’ve touched yourself before. With Bucky all around you, it’s simply not enough. “Bucky- You-You need to touch me-“
“I know.” He grunts, lips ghosting over yours. “Need you to be ready, just-“
His throat bobs as he cuts himself off, his hand on his own hard dick suddenly pressing against your pussy. A spasm shoots through your body, and you almost fly off the counter.
Bucky presses further down, attaching his lips to your neck and collarbone. His tongue flicks against a pulse point as he spreads your pussy lips. Rubbing up and down while his thumb circles around your clit, working you up and up and up. You’re panting in his ear, vulnerable and dazed, and Bucky hums against your skin.
“Shirt.” He grunts. “Get my shirt off.”
You nod, and it should be a simple task. But Bucky’s relentless. He suckles on your neck, leaving possessive bruises on your skin all while working your pussy and drawling in your ear.
“I know exactly how I want you, pretty girl.” He mutters, flicking your clit with his thumb. “Told you I’ve been thinkin’ about it forever. ‘Bout every single way I’d take you if I got the chance. And I’m gonna show you all of them,” he kisses over a bruise, teasing two fingers against your fluttering core. “But tonight, we’re takin’ it easy.”
You whine, fumbling with just the top button of his shirt. “I- I don’t want easy-“
“I know, baby.” He presses just the tip of his finger into your cunt, and you clench around him with a whine. “But you’re so sensitive.”
If you had the power right now, you’d hit him for saying it like that. All mocking and syrupy. Making you try to fuck your hips down onto his fingers. But Bucky just pulls fully out, moving his attention back to your swollen clit.
“You need to take care of the buttons.” He whispers, pushing down hard on the bundle of nerves. “They need a little extra attention.” He rubs his thumb back and forth. “Before we get goin’.”
“Fuck- Bucky-“ You breathe, almost slumped against his chest. Your fingers are shaking, desperate to just hold onto something as thighs spread as wide as they can go. “Fuck you-“
He chuckles, kissing the side of your head as his thumb picks up speed. “We’re getting there, needy girl.”
You scrape at his forearm, one hand still trying to pry his shirt open with no real resolve at all. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, the asshole. Driving you insane with the teasing over your exposed entrance, never fully offering relief. You manage to get the top button open, but then Bucky pushes down hard on your clit, and an open moan falls from your lips as you double over.
“That’s it.” Bucky laughs, low and dangerous in your ear. “Doesn’t that feel good, baby?”
You nod, watching him move on you. “Bu- Bucky-“ You pull on his collar. “Help…”
“You’ve got it.” He says simply, spreading two fingers and dragging them between your pussy lips. “Just keep tryin’.”
There is no world where you have it, but Bucky’s words are enough for you to keep grasping fruitlessly at the fabric. Your head drops onto his shoulder, as you paw at his shirt. He laughs, rumbling through his chest, and slows his pace on your clit.
“All the ways I’ve pictured havin’ you.” He mutters. “This is the prettiest. Got you nice and ready, barely even touched you.”
“You’re- You’re touching me-“
“Not like I could touch you.” He says, a deep promise in his voice. “Told you, I’m going easy on my best girl. But if I wanted…”
He chuckles, kissing the side of your head. Pushing on your clit as your body starts to wiggle, trying to find more relief. “Bucky-“
“Every time I’ve seen you, layin’ on the couch.” He presses further forward, his bulge against your thigh. “I’ve thought about putting my hands all over your perfect fuckin’ body. Touching these tits,” he ducks his head, and your breath hitches as he kisses over the curve of your breast. “Touchin’ this sweet little pussy.” He plays with your clit like it a toy. “And makin’ you squirt all over Stevie’s nice cushions.”
“I’d look at you.” You gasp, holding onto his shirt for dear life. “In your chair. Wanted to sit on your lap.”
Bucky groans, hips jerking slightly. “Shit, I’ve thought about that too. Pinning you on my cock ‘till you’re sobbing, fucking you over my desk- Christ, whenever you’d bend over I’d just want to drag your ass back and fuck it ‘till you were drooling.”
“Fuck, yes.” You’ve given up on the shirt.
Your hand is wandering down between your bodies, and you rub against Bucky’s crotch, trying to return some of the favor. Bucky moans into your ear, pressing his hand flat over your cunt.
“Shit, you- Can’t just fuckin’-“ Bucky grunts your name, and you roll your hips against his hand.
“Need it. Need it, Bucky- Just- Your fingers, please-“
“No.” He mutters, his own voice gravelly as you squeeze him. “Can’t be patient, can you, sweetheart? Want this cock so bad you’re just grabbin’ for it, wasn’t even able to get my shirt off-“
“It’s a mean game.” You breathe, and he laughs, pushing his lips back over yours.
“You started it.” He brushes the hair from your face, easily moving you backwards until you’re just groping for something of him to hold onto.
“Why can’t you just- Just fuck me-“
“Because you wanted to be a good girl.” Bucky’s kisses are turning slow. Lazy. He’s groping your pussy again, but with far less purpose.
Just spreading your arousal and teasing everywhere you need him, driving you up to an edge you think might take away your mind. A mind you’d be happy to lose for him, if he’d just take it.
“And I want to show you.” Bucky rests his thumb over your entrance, his free hand pushing on your abdomen. Forcing you to stay still. “But you’ve got a greedy pussy, sweet girl. Think you need a little break?”
You shake your head—you do not want a break—but Bucky pushes his thumb a little harder, and you squeak.
“Bu- Bucky-“
“Look at me.” He orders, and you don’t have another choice. His voice is magnetic.
With just the top button exposing his sweaty collarbone and his erection evidence that he cares about this as much as you do, all of Bucky is magnetic. Gravitational. And it makes you feel so unbelievably good, just to be seen by him.
Being fucked by him might kill you.
It’s a risk you’re willing to take.
“Hi.” He smiles, and your lips wobble with need.
“Hi.”
“You still in this?”
You nod, and Bucky’s throat bobs.
“I’d like you to say it-“
“Yes, sir.” You can’t help yourself from saying it.
It’s supposed to be mocking. But your voice is still high, and Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.
“You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” He shakes his head, tone something between amused and exhausted. “Otherwise you’d be a really fuckin’ brat.”
You flush violently, and Bucky slaps your pussy once. Just enough to make you feel like you’ve been struck by lightning, and mold back into his whims.
“One day.” He drawls, one knuckle pushing up to press on your clit. “I’m gonna get you on my face. Let you ride me, fuckin’ suffocate between your legs.”
You’re shaking, watching him. He’s talking like he’s predicting the weather, but your head is running wild. The image of Bucky under you, forcing your cunt onto his generous mouth. It would be hot and wet, his hands would leave bruises, and, and-
“You’re so reactive,” he mutters, using featherlight swipes of his thumb against your clit. “Think I could make you squirt on me. It’ll be like this,” he starts to move in tiny, rapid motions back and forth. “Like this. But my tongue,” he licks up your neck, nipping at the underside of your jaw. “And your needy clit bein’ sucked like I’ve got some fuckin’ candy.”
He pinches your clit, and starts to roll it back and forth. You can feel a pressure, building and building. It’s almost blindingly good.
“You’re makin’ such nice sounds for me.” Bucky mutters. “Bet you’ll sound even better, coming apart all over my cock.”
You nod, humping into his hand. You need more, but just when you think it’s going to snap, Bucky’s hand moves back down.
“You feel this, baby?” He circles his thumb against your hole, and you hum, eyes flutters. “She’s ready for me.”
“Yes.” You breathe. “Ready, Bucky, please- Wait-“
You almost whine when he pulls away again, but this time it’s for a good cause. Bucky rips his shirt off, tossing it to an unimportant corner of the room.
He’s a work of art. All thick, tanned muscle and scars from his time in the army. They ripple when he moves, decorate him like earned tattoos, and you want to map each one with your fingers. His arms are fucking tanks, reaching out for you, and you tumble into them without a thought.
Bucky hauls you into his arms, hooking under your ass and dragging you off the counter with only a grunt.
“Legs around me.” He orders, and you obey. It’s nice to be this close to him.
Plus the bonus, of getting to try and ride his chest while he carries you to your room. You stumble and giggle, trying to give him directions. Bucky shoves open your door with his shoulder, and you laugh as he walks backwards to the bed, his knees hitting the mattress and sending you both tumbling down.
“Shit- Bucky!” You shriek with delight as Bucky rolls you over, trapping you under his broad body. “Oh- Ooh-“
Your words fall off as he kisses you into the mattress, settling between your spread legs quickly. Your hands wander over the expanse of his back, and it’s a nice wealth to be crushed under. You’re losing cognitive function again, as Bucky ruts his still covered erection against your wet core. You don’t know how he’s kept it together so long. You feel like you’re going to cry with desperation, and you’re fully at his whims.
This is nice, though. It’s a hot pressure—still far from what you need, but enough to tide you over—and Bucky’s wall of muscle around might be the best things you’ve ever felt. Your tits pressed against his chest, his arms braced by your head as you just make out like teenagers. He glides one hand down, rolling your nipple between calloused fingers, and you gasp softly.
“Bu- Bucky-“
“I’m gonna start slow.” He murmurs, low and commanding. “Then pick it up. Fuck you ‘till you can’t walk, baby. Give you what you deserve.” He drops his hips, forcing you to stop grinding up. “That sound good?”
You nod, blinking hopelessly up at him, and he smiles.
“Good girl.” You get a sweet kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling softly. “Stay down.”
You don’t understand the request until he’s moving again, and suddenly it seems impossible. Being naked in front of him had been one thing. Naked, sprawled out in bed below him, and watching him strip is another thing.
Bucky sits up on his knees, never breaking eye contact as he pulls off his belt. You start to chew on your lower lip, and he moves back forward, stopping you with a gentle press of his thumb.
“Easy.” He murmurs. “Relax.”
You whimper, but try to. For Bucky.
And you think you might be turning into a puddle anyway, under the reverence in his gaze.
Bucky gets his pants off with practiced ease, and your mouth falls open.
His cock is thick and big. Veiny in a way you want to feel dragging against you, the head red and angry. Your breath catches as he starts to stroke it, just watching you wait for him.
Your legs close, trying to rub together for some friction. Bucky grabs your knee, and drags them back apart.
“Let me see you.” His thumb rubs in small circles. In a perfect rhythm, with his hand beating his cock. “Nice and relaxed for me, doll. Need you to be relaxed.”
You hum, watching him under hooded eyes. You can’t stop yourself from glancing down to his dick again. You feel empty, waiting for him. You’ve been waiting long enough as it is.
Bucky follows your gaze, and his lips twitch.
“You just walk around all the time?” He teases. “Waiting for some cock to fill you up.”
You nod, breathing through your mouth, and Bucky’s throat bobs.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” You whisper, dragging your gaze back to his. “Need to feel you, Bucky. Pleeease.”
He swears under his breath. “Legs a little wider. Now.”
You listen quickly, and Bucky lowers down. He drags his cock between the puffed, slick lips of your pussy, the head bumping against your clit.
“Dirty girl.” He hovers over you, watching your every breath as he plays with you. “So fuckin’ pretty, should be stuffed with cock all the time, shouldn’t you. Gonna keep you in my bed, fuck you full of me.” He kisses you quickly, his words getting rough. “My smart fuckin’ baby, begging for my cock.”
“Don’t- Don’t tease-“ You mumble, and Bucky grins.
“But you’re so pretty when I do.”
He kisses your cheek, and you feel raw. A live nerve, open for him and almost vibrating with desire. But Bucky’s hands are gentle against you. And you know.
He’s going to treat you well.
“You think you can let go for me?” His question is gentle. Almost soft. “Always workin’ so hard.” He notches himself at your entrance, and your breath catches. “I’m gonna take care of you, aren’t I.”
“Yes.” You whisper. “Please.”
Bucky grins, and kisses your lips. “That’s right. You just gotta take it.”
You don’t get to even nod, before Bucky starts to push in.
And you’re not a blushing nun. You’ve used your fingers, and even some toys. Tried to see what the big deal was. But it had just felt like something was inside of you, and kind of heavy, and mostly just annoying.
This is different.
Bucky splits you open, and it knocks the air from your lungs.
“Breathe.” He grunts in your ear, and you nod uselessly. “Breathe, baby.”
You gasp for air, burying your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, and clawing at his shoulders.
He mutters your name, and you try to arch your back up, inviting more. You need more. Everywhere he isn’t feels cold and hollow. Bucky needs to smear himself all over you, or you’re going to lose your mind.
“More.” You manage to croak out, and Bucky grunts.
“Are you-“
“Yes- Fuuuuck-“
You moan, loud and shameless, as Bucky presses deeper in. He bullies your pussy open, thick cock pressing deep into you and making your feel more full than you could’ve ever felt possible. Your body feels like it’s singing, a shiver of delight pushing up your spine as he hits that spot inside you that you weren’t even sure was real.
Your pussy clenches involuntarily, and Bucky hisses in your ear.
“Shit- Relax.” His thumb snakes between your bodies, massaging your clit. “Let me in, babydoll, come on-“
The massaging helps. You melt into him with a shaking breath, head tipping back when he bottoms out.
Bucky’s head drops into your chest, his breath hot against your breasts. You’re just sitting in each other, in the sticky, feverish heat that might drive you insane.
“You feel… fuckin’ perfect.”
Bucky’s voice is a rasp, and he sounds like a man ruined.
You might have already lost your mind.
“You too.” You breathe out, and he chuckles.
The sound is a vibration, and you bite your lip as pleasure rushes right down to your toes.
“Oh… God.” You squeeze your eyes shut, clenching again, and Bucky grabs your hips.
“You gotta stop doin’ that-“
“Can’t.” You whine. “’S- You did it, you spent forever working me up, and- And now-“
His muscles shift around you, and that’s enough for your body to keen. Your back arches, pussy squeezing, and Bucky makes a guttural sound from his chest.
You squeak, when he pulls the tiniest amount out and slams back in. Your body goes completely limp, and Bucky pushes up over you, his cock still buried deep inside as he stares down at you.
“For someone who asked me to teach her, you’re bad at takin’ directions.”
“You- Bucky-“ He’s fucking you, shallow and slow. Just dragging back and forth. You might cry over it. “You- You knew that already-“
“I did.” He muses, pressing your hips further down. Forcing you to feel every thrust of his cock against your cervix. “It’s something that I love about you, y’know? So sweet and mouthy, all at once. My dream girl. So far outta my reach.”
He angles you a little up, letting him rut against your g-spot, and any chance of a sassy retort is knocked out of your head.
“Not right now, though.” His lips twitch. “Bet you’d tell me anythin’ right now, if I fucked you nice and properly. Fucked you like you deserve?”
Your head bobs, words slurred on lust. “Any- Anything, Bucky, oh my god- mmmmh-“
His thumb swipes your clit, and it’s like a tiny shock you can’t even react to. Your body jerks, but Bucky just pins you back into the mattress.
“Think I don’t want you to talk right now.” Bucky leans down, smirking as you blink with teary eyes. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we sweetheart?”
There’s something mean and powerful, radiating off of him right now. He really knows exactly where he has you right now. And you have no desire to be anywhere else.
“Ye- Yes.”
“Might’ve fucked you nicely, if we’d just talked a month ago.” He raises his brows. “But you made me wait for this pretty pussy. Hurting us both, baby.”
“I- I was-“
“I know.” He kisses your nose. “You are a fuckin’ brat. Bet you thought about this every time you touched yourself.”
“I- I did.” You confess. “Needed your cock, Bucky. You’re- You’re so big-“
You mewl, as he rolls his hips and slams back in. He kisses you, open-mouthed and sloppy, and you can feel your slick need running down your ass. Or just Bucky’s sweat, as he tenses with the effort to hold himself back.
Effort is visibly, slowly slipping.
“You feel that? Feel this dick inside of you?” He fucks a little harder, and your head rolls. “All yours, babydoll. This hard, just for you.”
You whine, and Bucky sucks on a soft spot at the base of your throat.
“You’re a natural.” He groans against your skin. “Made for this cock, made to be my pretty doll, and- shit-“
He rises back up, watching you with a dark, hungry gaze.
“You’re trying so hard, aren’t you. To not choke my dick with your tight little pussy.”
“I- I am, Bucky- Please-“
“You gonna be good and listen to me, now?”
You nod, doe-eyed and cockdrunk, and Bucky hums in satisfaction.
“Hands on my shoulders.” He instructs, and your body somehow finds the strength to listen. “Mouth open. No holding back, wanna hear how you like it. Hear you scream my name.”
He kisses under your jaw, and you moan loudly. Bucky’s lips curve, and he pulls a little further out than before.
“Just like that. Good, isn’t it?”
“So good.” You whine, and Bucky hums.
“Stay just like this for me, doll.” He drags fully out, then slams back in. You think you see stars behind your eyes, and a sound you didn’t know you could make is pulled from your chest.
“Buuccky-“
“I know. Needy girl, wound up so tight.” He sets a slow but brutal pace, his hands bruising into your hips as he holds you down. “I’ve got you now.”
And he does.
Bucky’s got you so good, you’re already ruined for anyone else.
He fucks you the same way he’s been kissing and touching you. Like he’s trying to lay a claim. Make it so there’s no question what he wants, no doubt in your head that this is anything but serious. His hips piston against you, but it’s not rapid. It’s the measured, strong work of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.
If there’s a pleasure point on your body, Bucky’s finding it and using it. You babble, as he abuses your g-spot with the thick head of his cock. His kisses swallow your every moan and plea, and you can’t think beyond his massive body, completely draped over yours. You’re tangled together, his balls slapping your ass and hands wandering over your body like he owns it.
He drags your knees up to your chest, helping him hit even deeper. You’re so wet it’s smearing all over his cock, and the sight of him driving in and out of you is enough to make that pressure in your tummy feel like it’s going to explode.
Bucky’s beyond words himself, hunching over your and taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he grabs at the other. You mewl, eyes glazed over and body overwhelmed with the need to cum. You might scream if you don’t. You’re probably already screaming.
“I- I need- Bucky, please, please, fuck-“
You scratch at his shoulder, so close to toppling over the edge but unable to figure out how to just fall. Bucky grunts, slamming down harder. His tongue swirls your nipple, sucking the peak between full lips before he crashes back up. His kiss is sloppy and open. You’re writhing in the sheet, edged into complete oblivion and on the verge of tears.
“You having some trouble, babydoll?” Bucky teases, throaty and wrecked.
You nod, shaking with the need to snap. Bucky hums, kissing you too sweetly to be productive.
“Let go for me.” He squeezes your ass. “Just let go.”
Bucky finds your clit, and barely even offers more than a tease before you’re coming with a scream of his name.
Your back flies off the mattress, your hips bucking, and you’ve never cum this hard in your life. The tension in you burst like fireworks, heat pooling down your pussy and your body trembling. Your vision goes white. You might black out for a second, the daze of pleasure clouding your gaze.
There’s nothing but Bucky, still pounding into you. The obscene sounds of it, his guttural moans and the slide of his cock through your spasming cunt. His thrusts are jagged and uneven, his mouth kissing you everywhere he can seem to reach.
He follows you quickly, thick ropes of cum painting your insides and dribbling out of your pussy.
Bucky kisses you one more time, before he pulls out. It’s slower, like he’s trying to memorize you. You reach up to cup his face, smiling against his lips, and he lets out a heavy breath.
“That wasn’t too-“
“Perfect.” You whisper, and he relaxes.
“Good. Good.” He rises back up, brushing away the hair stuck to your face.
For a second, you just watch each other.
And with Bucky looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the universe, you feel like it.
He certainly treats you like it, too. Cleaning you up like you’re a princess, a treatment you never thought you’d want until it was Bucky offering. A warm, wet cloth between your thighs and a glass of water. He carries you into the bathroom, changes the sheets, then brings you back to bed.
He pauses after he sets you down, hovering around the mattress with a frown.
You scoot a little to the side, give him a hopeful look, and his shoulders slump.
He crawls into bed next to you, pressing his face into your breasts and holding you tight.
“We got things to talk about.” He mutters, and you hum, playing with his hair between your fingers.
“I know.”
“I was serious, about all of it-“
“I believe you.”
Bucky looks up at you with tired, but happy eyes. You smile, and they crinkle when he returns it.
It doesn’t matter if you’re the most anything in the world.
To him, you seem to be the world. And that’s more than enough.
“I’d like to take you out.” He says. “On a real date. Then the gala, too. If you-“
“Yes.” You beam. “Yes, please. I’d like that a lot.”
✦End note: bucky on a dating app has haunted me since tfatws. glad to do something with that.✦
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And yet, another year that didn’t break you. You’re still here, still standing, still breathing. That counts for more than people admit, that’s brave as hell, and you deserve to be proud.
Summary: The aftermath of the events of I Should Have Stayed.
Pairings: FATWS!Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized! Fem!Reader (established relationship), Soldat x reader
Warnings: angst, whump, reader was injured, reader and bucky argue, bucky is an idiot, soldat is well soft and smutty, torture, angst, some fluff, mild mention of smut, being eaten out (soldat's hungry), feels, emotional hurt, reader feels neglected, making out, emotional messes?, crying, PTSD fuelled dreams. lots of angst, bucky really is going through it on the inside, hints of softdark!soldat
AN: this took me 3 rewrites to get where i wanted it, i hope ya'll enjoy it!
Word Count: 5.8k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Masterlist // AO3 // This Feeling I’ve Got AU Masterlist
Also please note for easy readability:-
When bucky and soldat / james / jamie speak inside his mind the sentences are in italics
With soldat’s dialogue in single inverted commas and bucky’s in double
Example:
spoken aloud:
‘I am here Kotenok’ soldat/james / “I am here kitten” bucky
internal conversation:
‘You’re an idiot’ soldat / james’ internal speaking
“I know I am,” Bucky’s internal internal speaking
Present.
Bucky Barnes thought he knew self hatred intimately. The kind where even peaceful lakes would reflect only azure disdain. Over years the hatred had healed into a muted commentary. Possibly a distorted radio channel that a person connected to after leaving city limits. Lowly humming then gaining crescendo. Ringing in his ears and consuming every damn thought.
He watches you carefully. Moving around the apartment with unfamiliarity. Shifting the bread box at each pass from the hall to the kitchen. Never quite satisfied with how it sat. He watches your shoulders sag for a moment; then you bring them back up on guard. It seems faking it was a common theme between you both.
‘Coward.’
A huff escapes him. The condensation blooms in the pattern of humourless laughter. Of course his awakened counterpart called him a coward. Rightly so.
Because you were inside. Inside the new apartment. Eight weeks since he realised the minute the words that had left his mouth, he messed up.
Now he was sheltered by the cold and by his attempt at protection. With himself placed in the run down building opposite to you. High-tech equipment is his second companion. The third is coffee and food.
‘Why did you not fight harder?’
Bucky closes his eyes. The soldier hated his decision. Hell, he hated his own decision. Even you—no.
Two months ago when he utter his explanation, you didn’t hate him. You looked at him as if you knew. You knew. You knew his plan. All because you know him.
‘Of course she knew. She knew you’d take on the guilt. She knew you were only being a decent man. Staying by till she was rehabilitated. She knew you were going to end things with her for her safety. She knew she couldn’t stop you.’
“She could have stopped me.” Bucky responds dejectedly. This conversation played on loop as if an ear-worm song that was both salvation and punishment.
Soldat—no, James. You allowed ‘the asset’ to reclaim a name. Therefore James laughs, mockingly.
‘She was begging with her eyes.’ James roars. ‘Kotenok was aching much more than just within muscle and bone. You never healed her heartache in those past months and now we have to watch her sob into a pillow on an unfamiliar bed. Alone. Alone like you. Alone for the longest time waiting for someone to see you. Alone like me!’
“So you did not want to be seen by her?” Bucky finds speaking in his own head different. The voices wouldn’t crash against each other. He could hold a conversation with James and still be able to understand if someone was speaking to him in person.
‘She is the only person who saw me. You think I do not replay her cries to me? The ones at the base that awoke me and those from her sleep?’
Before he can reply the auditory enhancer picks up a sob. He stares out his window, into yours, the first few days and nights he felt bile at resorting to these methods to keep an eye on you.
This. This is what took the podium, your pain injected his self hatred.
‘It claws at the chest.’ James feels the reverberation within his shared ribcage. Your crying had quelled but not stopped. He wondered why. Why would you still cry for someone as him? Torn between two consciousnesses.
Bucky silently agrees. You needed someone less—,
‘Idiotic? Stupid? Has lost the ability to know whats good for him?’ James cuts him off.
“Broken.” Bucky releases an annoyed huff, rolling his eyes then closing them.
James opens his eyes. Immediately finding you at crumpled on the bed. Curled up sniffling. Swaying between sleep and more tears. Clutching onto the pillow as if it would keep you alive. But you’re traversing the planes of slumber and staying awake. Another battle he watches you fight when he takes over.
“Please, please, please,” Your voice cracks between syllables. Slowly your breathing evens out the tiredness of the day and breakdown forcing you to sleep.
He watches you, both of them do. The world once held in mismatched hands now lays alone. Hands devoid of warmth. Heart devoid of fullness.
‘It pains me I lost her as she helped me find some semblance of myself.’ James curls his fingers, knuckles whitening as you whimper.
“Let me take the lead.” Bucky insists. Both know what comes next if this is a PTSD triggered dream.
‘I will control.’
“You have none.”
‘I will not harm her.’
“I know that. I know you’d rather burn in our self hatred. We cannot sneak into the apartment again.”
‘You know controlling that urge since her loss has dwindled. If she were close I could still stop myself.’
The internal conflict stops, as your pained cry reaches them. Bucky watches you turn in the bed. Pushing away the blanket dragging yourself to one corner. Clutching up the sheets between your fingers. Backing away from the source of your nightmares.
James rubs at his sternum, the ghost of your touch is a memory that haunts him. Vibranium palm unable to mimic the feeling you brought forth. He missed how you accepted him. Accepted his darkness. Became the light he could focus upon and see himself. Not with disgust. Not with guilt. He could finally see his hands and not see only red. He could look in the mirror for longer.
He hated allowing you to suffer through the nightmares. You’d help him escape countless ones.
“Bucky, James,” Your voice pleads unlocking the pandora’s box from the aftermath of you being snatched away from the only home Bucky knew.
Immediately after the events of I Should Have Stayed (ISHS)
Bucky paces the length of your private room. Transported to the nearest specialty hospital working with the Avengers. The monitor beeps in tandem. His steps synchronised to your heartbeat.
“It is a medically induced coma.” The doctor explained to him signing off after checking on your vitals.
‘She looks frailer.’ Soldat observes, flicking the gaze away from the doctor. Bruises had begun to mar your skin.
“Is, is—Will she going to wake up on her own ability or will you taper the dosage?” Bucky hoped to see your eyes. It let him in, a way he knew how to interpret you. A language of his own formulated with you. For now your eyes were closed, tubes connected to you.
“We will taper it, the physical pain manifested as the adrenaline wore out. Given what all we saw of the tapes and data. She held up with a lot more mental fortitude.” The doctor only offers a polite smile, “She’s proven she has the mental strength. However, her body will require recovery. We cannot anticipate if her mental strength has run out.”
“She shouldn’t have had to go through all of that.” Bucky’s palms curl into fists. If only he could revive the fuckers and kill them again.
“The extent of her injuries is severe, hairline fractures. A few grade 2 torn ligaments. Her scans for the brain and spine are clear for any neurological deficits so we are happy. However the psychological aspect will still remain a mystery till she awakens.” The doctor moves closer to the IV Injections machines checking on the settings.
‘I wouldn’t mind a round two. More torture for them.’
He chuckles at Soldat’s words and the doctor eyes him with caution. Another polite mumbled greeting then the door opens with the white coat man retreating.
‘Can’t take a man planning vengeance and being happy about it’
“We will have to work on this new development.”
‘We will, however I do not feel bound to you or repressed. Or in a deep slumber.’
“It feels how it did after Wakanda.” Bucky closes his eyes.
Soldat takes centre stage when they open. His relaxed but alert posture shifting. Tension in his shoulders rose. Taking over him was the stature of a soldier never given the command to be at ease after the decree of being at attention.
Soldat walks over to you. Grasping one of the palms that trusted him. Calloused fingers curling around scabbed ones. His head hangs low. Failing in his mission to completely protect. To save. Your one request unhonoured.
‘Kotenok’ He whispers, ‘Never again, never again will harm come to you.’
Your fingers curl in the slightest around his own. As though you’ve accepted his oath.
“You realise what you’re promising?” Bucky knows no thought is hidden from the other. He had to stay away. You couldn’t remain a target. A stepping stone to get to him.
‘Do you realise you are promising on breaking her heart?’
The two remain silent. Opting to just pray for your injuries to heal. Praying these memories do not scar you. They do not mar your dreams.
However, as all of Bucky’s wishes and prayers it goes unanswered.
One Month After ISHS
The hospital trips were getting to you. Maybe you could have agreed to move into the compound. Utilise the facilities there but something about using resources meant for those protecting the civilians left a bad taste in your mouth.
Bucky’s knee bounced as the physical therapist wheeled you towards the parallel bars. You don’t know how had your bones gotten hairline fractured. You don’t remember any hits to your lower body. There was a lot your dreams reminded you of what happened. Looping the man you adored’s broken expression. The way you were losing him before that night. The way you wanted him to fight for the two of you.
Grabbing the bars, doing a upper body pendulum. You haul yourself up. It had gotten easier. The upper body strength being worked upon at home as well. Steadying the weight transfer between both lower limbs. You swayed slightly.
James was behind you, hands on your hips. Steadying you. The development was still new. You hated being touched by anyone that wasn’t him. The thought made you sick and anyone coming close to you would send your heart into an anxious rhythm.
Blinking and the soft squeeze from his hands brings you back to the task at hand. It was easy to know James had taken over. The posture was much more guarded that Bucky’s and his eyes wouldn’t let you in at all.
“Okay now, one step at a time. Mr Barnes will you walk behind her? Yes perfect—I’ll be at the front.” The Physiotherapist requests.
Wordlessly the positions are taken.
‘You alright, Kotenok?’ Gently his hands lighten in their weight as he moves his them a little away but ready to catch you.
“I am. But Just a little worried about tripping.” You chuckle, hoping some humour lightens the hard work that is about to come. On cue taking the first wobbly step, the light pain shoots up your leg.
Your grip on the bar tightens. Expression twisting and a grimace taking over your features.
‘Breathe.’ James whispers.
You nod, following suit. The next step a little easier the healing on one leg was better.
‘Well done, Kotenok.’ He whispers when you balance yourself without having to rely on either of them. You do feel your cheeks warm at the praise.
“Good just ten more steps to go.” You’re physiotherapist gives periodic encouragement.
James’ quiet support carries you forward more.
After the first round you watch the switch occur. Bucky kisses your temple. Another indicator he was more open in his affection.
“You did really good, Kitten.” He praises, yet again heating your skin.
Jackets and coats worn again as you both make your way to the parking area. The bike wasn’t viable anymore. The SUV is first checked by Bucky and then he lifts you up into it.
“Baby?” You say before he can let you go. Your palm cups his cheek.
His blue eyes meet yours, softening his gaze as he lets his guard drop for this private moment. His vibranium fingers cover yours palm. Turning his head slightly his lips softly brush over your fingers.
‘She doesn’t seem injured.’ James frets, using the other available senses to keep him informed. He’d be damned if his stormy sea was taken away from the shore that were your eyes before you looked away.
“Thank you, for helping me.” You say appreciative of his time and effort. The conversation about before was still pending but it wasn’t a priority to discuss.
Bucky smiles, “Kitten, you don’t have to say thank you.” Kissing your palm again and then kissing your cheek. “You want to grab dinner or cook at home, well watch me cook?” He winks drawing a giggle.
“If you’re up to it, I’d like to watch you cook.”
‘You need to also talk.’ James reminds.
“Your wish my command.” Bucky says as an answer to you and his counterpart.
By the time you both reach home, you’re tired.
James observes and advises that the conversation can be tabled for another day. Watching you smile and lose the tension in your shoulders.
Smearing a dollop of whipped along your cheek and doing the same to him when James was the one to turn around to ask you something. Bucky and he had begun to switch mid conversation at times, the fluidity didn’t bother you it was easy to interact with both of them.
It was silent for a few moments. The shadowed soldier not knowing the protocol. He stared at you, eyes narrowed.
‘You are to lick this off, Kotenok.’ His accent grew heavier. ‘Go on.’
Hands on either side of you, resting on the counter. A mirth you’ve seldom seen in the caged away soldier’s eyes. Different to the happiness Bucky carried around you. He’s beautiful through and through.
“I um—,”
‘No excuses.’
“You sure?”
‘Positive.’
“I see you enjoy teasing her.” Bucky muses, watching you contemplate how to go about this development.
‘What can I say? I’ve watched your memories of you in worship.’
With a gentleness he only knew by your hand James allows himself to memorise the way you touch him. The way your legs wrap around his hips, your fingers gently grazing over his jaw and then your breath, warm against his cheek before your lips move to help clean the dollop of whipped cream.
The air seemed to be charged. It had been a while, being physical with your man. Teasing touches here and there, kissing yes, but you craved more of him.
James tilts his head, lips brushing over the remnant cream over your bottom lip. He groans, the sound has you tighten your legs around him.
‘May I?’
He’s close, so close to just wanting to taste your mouth. To learn the more intimate parts of you. You watch him grip the edge. Waiting for your consent.
“Yes,” Its more breathless that you’d like, but you watch James close his eyes. A calm expression taking over his features and then he presses his lips to yours, needy. Greed being at the forefront of his actions. Palm gripping the back of your neck, moving to your hair.
His tongue moves, not seeking permission. He wants to taste you. James can’t believe how you feel when he is at the forefront. So soft, beautiful and strong. Your hands move along his chest and then his shoulders.
“Fucking beautiful.” Bucky groans, every but of you being felt by every bit of him. He wanted to drink in every moan, every soft sound, every last drop of ecstasy that was sourced from you.
You’re letting him take the lead, the kiss is messy. The whipped cream cutting through the heat of the moment. Adding a sweetness to the rough edge of James’ kiss. His other hand grips your hip, pulling you to the counters edge. Flush against his growing hardness.
You moan as he bites on your bottom lip. Hips rutting against you.
“Baby, oh,” You’re cut off. The way he grinds against you. Lighting an inferno within you, “Jame-Jamie is Bucky—,” The nicknames slip out.
“Baby, I’m fucking good, let us have a taste, please.” Bucky pulls back again, James won’t let him take any control now.
The little nickname awoke a more primal part of him. Claiming him in a way that felt safer. Making him feel wanted and needed by you.
‘You keep calling me that Kotenok and I’ll stay on my knees for you till this world turns to ash.’ James promises.
“Jamie more, please,” You’re desperate as his hips begin rutting harder into you. The ache building within, you needed him. He lifts you up, lips latch onto your pebbled nipples through the fabric of your tank top.
Your moans the only sound in the apartment. Your fingers tugging him closer. James rips the measly shorts. Your glistening folds calling his name.
‘Eyes on me, my good little girl.’
Your thighs tremble at the first stripe he licks. James thought he could control himself. No. No he couldn’t.
“Jamie,” Your mind blanks as he suckles on your clit. No longer was he following some pattern. A man starved, aching, waiting to feast. You’re at his mercy. And he’s the one bringing you to salvation.
His fingers are added, tongue lapping at your cunt. The combination holds a sporadic rhythm that has you delirious. His name falls from your lips. A debauched prayer.
The coil snaps, you’re caught off guard by how deep you’re pulled into the pleasure. James doesn’t stop your orgasm flooding his senses.
The sight of you spread out for him. The sounds of his name and your moans. The taste of your pussy and your tears of pleasure. The touch of your fingers tugging him closer to you. The smell of your lotion and perfume lingering on his body.
He kisses either thigh and then the apex of your pelvis. You feel as if you’re floating. On the high of your orgasm. James shifts the two of you into a comfortable position.
Then the slight pain creeps up from your legs. Fucking hell. You bite down a whimper.
‘Did I hurt? Kotenok, I’m,’ James begins to back away from you. Fretting over the harm he caused yet again. You grab onto him.
“Don’t leave, its just the usual pain. I did get clearance for light to moderate intensity sex.” You don’t relent your hold on him.
James slowly moves his palms over your thighs. Gently massaging them. The circular motion eases the pain, distracting you. The pain eases after a few more minutes.
He feels the tension leave your muscles.
“Do not switch.” You warn him. Grabbing his jaw and making him look at you. Knowing he may choose to self inflict punishment and guilt. “Do not run from me, its not that I don’t want Bucky its just.”
“I know, Kitten.” Bucky wants to say but he wouldn’t force his way. He knew this would get muddled. The more you accepted him the more he would put onto the plate. No matter how much of a tight leash he’d keep around the problems.
“Please.” You beg, close to sounding broken.
Tears brim his eyes. James never allowed himself to be weak. To show a hint of weakness.
“You need to reassure her.” Bucky advices, tearing up on the inside.
‘Only for you to break her in a few days’ time Comrade?’ While he is conflicted in his emotions he wouldn’t use an exit strategy.
“Jamie,” You plead with him. You can’t have him blame himself. You can’t have Bucky blame himself. Your fingers moving along his scalp. Softly running your fingers through his hair. Trying to tether him to this moment.
He closes his eyes, pulling you closer to him. Laying in bed, you tucked right into his arms. You keep running your fingers through his hair.
“You didn’t get to finish.”
‘It is about your pleasure, Kotenok.’ He dismisses your thought, ‘Its not that I don’t want to feel more of you, you’re cleared for light to moderate which means breaks.’
“Okay.” You agree, placing a kiss to his collar bone, since he had you tucked against himself. His scent surrounds you as does his warmth.
Heartbeat and breathing a soothing lullaby that you can’t fight against at the moment. Slumber takes you into its shade.
His fingers continue making comforting memories on your skin. Erasing the harshness away.
Bucky stares down at your sleeping form.
He needed to pull away.
3 months after ISHS
It reminds you of those little tests at the eye doctor. The hot air balloon blurs in and out of view. Growing distant then closer. Then distant. You always forget to ask the optometrist what it means, the purpose of it. How does the interpretation of the result occur?
That is how it feels to have Bucky with you. Close then gone far away. It was clear you were losing him. You were holding onto a rubber band but he held the other end of it. If either of you let go the pain that would follow seemed more terrifying than the pain HYDRA inflicted upon you.
Maybe you were wrong. Maybe equating these two events in your life was wrong. One would reckon being tortured faired worse. The flashes that curbed you during the day had reduced in frequency. The nightmares were still a problem.
It seemed as if the roles were reversed. You used to be Bucky’s anchor for his nightmares and now he’s the one who soothes them away. Protecting you from them. James would always coax you awake from nightmares where you’d be reliving calling out to him. Those were the worst because they’d twist into him being used by HYDRA. Captive again, because of you.
‘Kotenok?’ He kneels in front of you, worry pouring out of his demeanour. ‘Come back to me.’
Fingertips brushing against your cheek. His thumbs tenderly trail over your jawbone. You meet his worried gaze as you pull yourself put of the spiral of thoughts.
‘There she is,’ James’ shoulders relax in the slightest.
“You feel far away.” It slips out before you cans stop it.
‘I’m right here.’ He kisses your forehead.
“We both know she isn’t talking about that.”
‘You think I don’t know?’
“You don’t show it.”
‘Coward.’
“You’re hiding right here with me.”
‘Fuck you.’
“I’ve delayed the inevitable enough.”
‘Piece her back together then break her. I thought she described you once as kintsugi.’
“The gold holding her broken pieces.”
‘She is the gold.’
“She is.”
“Jamie,” Your palms cover his own. Breathing a little easier. The island of refuge amongst the waters that threatened to drown you. But he’s about to put you onto a life raft and shove you away from shore.
The words are on the tip of your tongue. Something inside you doesn’t want him to say the words.
You watch him look over you, cataloguing the smallest of changes.
The words sour your tongue. Bitterness spreading from the back of your mouth to your lips. A wave of nausea crashes over you a feeling akin to being pulled under its current. Brows scrunched you pull your face away from him. A wobbled attempt to stand has you sway.
‘Kotenok?’ James’ arm wraps around your waist, taking most of your weight carrying you over the to the bathroom. The cool metal soothing the heat spreading across your skin.
“Whats wrong, kitten?” Bucky pushes your hair away as he sets you down on the tilted floor.
Palm pressing against your mouth you can only wave him to go away before your knees buckle and the porcelain jabs against your diaphragm.
Dry heaves fill the bathroom, his palm moves soothingly over your back. You thought these were over. The physical symptom your anxiety brought along with it.
“Here,” The ice cold water filled glass is brought to your lips. After a sip you hold it in your hands.
“I need to say something,” You begin, not meeting his eyes at first, Bucky kneels across from you.
He reaches for you, “Anything, kitten,”
“No.” You wonder how is your voice level.
Bucky blinks, hands halfway to you. Dread firing across each nerve ending like lead. He runs through everything. As does James. You never stopped him from offering comfort with his touch. It is a shared love language between the two of you.
“I,” A deep inhale, “What I’m about to say, I don’t want to—I have to.” Tears gather across your downcast gaze searching for an escape.
“You can always share whatever is on your mind with me.” Bucky assures.
‘I do not like where this is headed.’
“Neither do I.”
“But I have to say it, because, if I—,” A shaky breath, just a few more syllables then you could cry, “Because if I say it, it will be just a fear but if you say it, if you say it, it will be the truth.”
You finally look up at him and he closes his eyes in pain. The glass slips, falling on the carpet near the tub. Your palms cover your face.
Your sobs sear themselves into Bucky’s memory. Carving a space into the worst of his memories. Taking the mantle. A macabre creation of his mind. A podium of the nightmares experienced.
Bucky can’t speak, nor can James. Neither of them have any clue what to do. The helplessness, the inability to touch you. You’ve said no. You’ve said no and his arms are filled with lead. Human designed and nature given. They weigh heavy.
He says your name. Then your nickname.
He says your name. Then your nickname.
You’re curled away from him. Heart finally shattering.
The gauze, the wound dressing, the stitches you were trying to do all failed. All failed and undo the cracks around your heart. The mended scars unravelling one by one.
You’re sure there is no pain greater than this, and if there is you don’t want to remember what the emotion could be. You do not want to know.
It’s all a blur after that moment. A blur because it echoes as if a siren sound calling you to your ruin.
Bucky’s admittance, why he thought breaking up would benefit your safety. The anxiety he carried. The guilt. The love for you. The way he wanted to be selfish to stay with you. To protect you but he failed once. That was enough to tell him he wasn’t the right person for you. The way he thought this was the right call.
James stayed quiet through it all. Giving over the reign to Bucky. He watched in pain as it played out. He knew Bucky would gain momentum. Soldat had been dormant far longer than his awakening.
Bucky knew Soldat would wrap around you like a chain. Not let you go, not allow you to be safe.
You wanted to scream his name out loud. Summon him from the depths Where he shadowed himself. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t.
‘Stop her from leaving. Please.’
“I cannot.”
The bags were packed. You were grabbing the last few items strewn across the impromptu apartment in the tower.
Every fibre inside of him is screaming. Clawing. Trying to imbibe some sense. The fucked up self preservation wanting you there. His calm. His refuge. His everything. Bucky clenches his fists, arms crossed over his torso. Restraining himself.
You feel his presence towering over you from behind. Trapped between the chest of drawers and his chest.
“Jamie.” Your voice is soft, your head hangs in defeat as his forehead rests against your temple. He breathes in deeply.
James grabs the edge of the furniture. It splinters at the force of just his restraint.
“Its okay.”
‘It isn’t.’
“Its what he wants.”
‘What about what you want?’
“I want, I want us. Him, you, me. He thinks this is good for well… I don’t know but if he’s less stressed without me…”
‘I’ll take over, I’ll keep him at bay.’
“I can’t allow that Jamie, I can’t have that happen again.”
‘Tell me to disappear then, command me to the deepest trenches of my mind.’
“I can’t do that.”
‘There is a difference. You won’t.’
“I won’t.”
‘Oh, Kotenok.’ He brings his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers run through his hair. Moisture greets your skin. Rivulets trace old paths of his lips. Tears marking your skin.
You both stay that way, he holds you. He mourns. He could never show vulnerability, longing for anything but the words to rest after missions.
“My sweet soldier.” You kiss his hair, sniffling as well, “I love you.”
‘I love you, moye spaseniye (my salvation)’
You’re released. You kiss his cheek.
“I love you, Bucky.”
“I love you, Kitten.”
Present
‘How much longer.’
“You know she must say the words and not just our names.”
‘Fuck you.’
“I admitted I was wrong. Losing her is far worse than failing her.”
‘But nothing is worse than hurting her.’
“No, no, no please—,” You sob, into the mattress.
‘For fucks sake,’
“We do not intervene till she calls out, sleep or awake.”
The dream started off beautifully. The diner and Bucky had come inside within time. Some old music played from an actual jukebox. You teased him about being from the era. Bucky smiled at you.
He made some joke in the dream. Crinkly eyed grin being your reward. And then Bucky’s smile dropped. Dread flowed through your veins. The atmosphere cold. The packed diner now empty.
The dream continued as Bucky stared at something, rather someone. You turn and James stands there, in all of his tactical gear. Eyes vacant. Focused on Bucky.
No, you want to yell.
As if knowing what was about to occur.
James falls to his knees. Bucky grabs your hand. He had to lead you to safety.
Your hand feels weightless.
Bucky’s on the floor. Brows furrowed and face pinched in pain. Sparks light up his side.
Your wail echoes through the dream. Red seeping from his shoulder the mounting plate torn from him. When you look over at James he’s the same way.
No, no, no, no. Hands grasping your head. You tug at your hair. Gaze frantic something anything. You grab your forgotten coats pressing them into Bucky’s side and then running over to James to do the same.
Then a shadow looms over you. Gone is the imagery of the diner. Pushing yourself off the floor running without looking back.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man with the scar speaks, his gentle cadence a match for your run.
“You know what to do.” He sing songs. Old laughter rumbles through the dream and your footing loses balance.
Crashing onto the floor, cuts grace your palms. You know whats coming next. It was one of the worser dreams of the nightmare catalogue.
The red lights flicker above, you can’t keep track if the camera is recording or not. You’d never allow them to capture directly the hurt. You knew they’d use it against Bucky.
The restraints dig into your skin. The scenes changing rapidly. Rust and mildew is what fills your senses. You wait for the knuckles to greet your cheek for the pain to embrace you as an old friend.
It doesn’t.
‘Kotenok,’ “Kitten,” the two words reverb around each other. Looking around at the source there is nothing.
It had been weeks since you saw him. Your source of comfort the sweatshirts and Henley held by you in rations for his comforting scent.
This was twisted even for your mind. Bright warm light fills the room you were held in at the HYDRA Base.
“Wake up, please wake up.” You whisper. Eyes tightly screwed shut. “Please. Please.”
“I’m here now.” ‘You’re safe, trust that.’
The warm sunlight mars the darkness even further, staring down you can’t even see your own self.
Bucky’s arms circle around you. Clutching you tighter as you begin to thrash in his hold. He could only say guidances you had used for his PTSD induced dreams.
Your uneasiness settles, breathing evening out. As does your heartbeat. It reminds him of months ago when you’d had your first dream about losing him. A part of him was baffled you’d begun to care so deeply.
It was easy to believe when your actions towards him matched your words. He had fucked up by breaking things off. Protecting you from afar. It killed him to watch you become a shell of yourself.
Bucky places a kiss to your forehead. You burrow into him. He feels his heart do a somersault. Adored it when you’d want him as close as possible.
‘She seems calmer.’
“She is, just a while more to make sure.” Bucky bargains with James.
‘Just a while more. It could return. Need to coax her.’
Your head tucked under his chin, him wrapped around you in a protective embrace. He doesn’t realise when his breathing synchronises with your own.
Eyes growing heavy, his body relaxing after weeks of being on alert. He was home.
Home is you.
He doesn’t oppose sleep tonight. Bucky sighs, he could give up this plan of being away for tonight.
Azure lose themselves to darkness. Muted grey greet your sleeping features.
‘You’ve decided for her and I enough, Comrade.’ James whispers, thumb stroking your cheek.
Your Jamie smiles as you nuzzle into his touch, ‘You rest now Bucky, I’ll look after her.’
Silhouettes In The Spotlight - Bucky Barnes - Masterlist
Summary: Bucky Barnes has worked immensely hard to have a filmography expanding across genres and garnering accolades from critics, peers and fans. Y/N Y/L/N, with her debut novel (fan-fiction turned New York Times Bestseller) has two other best sellers under her belt. Next is her highly anticipated fourth book lined up for release.
SHEILD Productions has acquired the film rights to her debut novel and they want Bucky Barnes to play the lead (aka himself) by any means necessary.
This story is about angst, lust, heartbreak, and love.
After all fairytales only exist in books and movies right?
~~~
the fanfiction turned published book mentioned in this fic is my completed Bucky fic I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once (this fic isn’t a published book however I do hope to be able to publish it one day)
~~~
Warnings: before every chapter specific warnings will be placed, slow burn, angst, fluff.
Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader
Pairing | Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary | Bucky tries on his cop costume, and he's not expecting to elicit such a reaction out of you. But he doesn't mind one bit, not when you're practically begging him to use the pair of handcuffs on you.
Warning/Tags | MDNI (18+), nsfw, established relationship, smut, literally porn without plot, dom!Bucky, mean!Bucky, Bucky has a filthy mouth and needs to be washed out with soap, sir kink, praise kink, handcuffs, spitting, oral (f receiving), Bucky eats reader out in mating press (hell yeah), orgasm denial, improper use of a gun...reader gets fucked with a gun (idk what you want me to say, i'm a fucking freak), slight angst, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, costume stays on during sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, cock warming, pet names (sweetheart, baby, my love, pretty girl), no use of y/n
Word Count | 4.5k
A/N | Happy day six of Bucktober!! I'm late posting this—just pretend I posted it yesterday so I don't feel like a complete failure. Let me just say, fuck me sideways because this was not supposed to be as long as it turned out to be, but I'm a certified yapper. I normally write soft dom!Bucky, so I hope this turned out alright and wasn't a complete cringe fest. Only read through it once (don't hate me, i'm tired). Anyway, hope y'all enjoy and happy gooning:))
Laptop propped on your thighs, your delicate fingers danced across keys. The click-clack of the keyboard filled the room like a broken melody. Only the bedside lamp and your screen illuminated the space, giving your skin a subtle glow.
Luckily, it was Thursday, and tomorrow was your day off. However, you figured it was better to get ahead of your work schedule before Halloween, because come the weekend, you'd be heavily distracted.
You had been invited to a few parties this year—some from your close friends, others from work friends. And you were dragging your boyfriend along.
Bucky was reluctant at first; he hated large crowds, but with a bit of convincing on your end (finally letting him cum after edging him for hours), he agreed.
So, it was off to search for costumes after that. He grabbed the first thing he saw—a police uniform, and practically sprinted to the front of the store to check out. He wasn't as into the dressing-up part as you were, so you went along with it and picked out an inmate costume to match.
You heard a clatter, followed by a string of curses from the bathroom. "Buck?" you called out.
A few more sounds of rummaging around came from beyond the door before he answered with a sigh, "Yeah, baby?"
"You doing okay in there?" you asked, setting your laptop on the side table so you could swing your legs over the side of the bed.
"Yeah," he grumbled. "Just tryin' on my costume."
You hummed, sitting up a little straighter. "Ooh, can I see?"
"I dunno, it looks…ridiculous on me," he mumbled, no doubt scanning his reflection in the mirror.
You shook your head, though he couldn't see you. "Just get your cute ass out here. I'll be the judge of that."
A huff came from the other side of the door, then the knob eventually turned. He stepped out of the bathroom, head low as he adjusted his leather jacket.
Your breath got caught in your throat, eyes trailing down the length of his figure. A crisp white button-up was tucked into his jeans, a badge clipped to the waistband. The collar of the dress shirt was loose, a couple of buttons undone, exposing the line of his clavicle. He had a holster positioned on his belt, which held a gun. On the other side, a pair of cheap handcuffs hung off his belt loop.
You were gawking, jaw slightly unhinged and eyes lidded. His arms outstretched at his sides, palms facing upwards as he tried to discern your expression.
"Well," he pressed. You didn't say anything, still stunned by his appearance.
His shoulders slumped, and his hands got more animated as he added, "Fuckin' knew I looked like an idiot. 'M just gonna wear black, and call myself a shadow or the grim reaper or some shit."
You were quick to cut in after that. "No, no," you swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.
"You look…good," you finally managed, and your voice dipped into something sultry. You rose from the bed with a subtle squeak from the loss of you. Sauntering over to where he stood, your eyes gleamed with a simmering seduction.
Bucky visibly froze, not expecting a simple costume to elicit such a reaction. Your eyes raked over him once again, tucking your lip between your teeth, placing your hands on the spot where his chest strained against the cotton material.
"Officer Sexy, reporting for duty," you purred, fingers gliding across toned muscles. They twitched under your touch, rippling under the pads of your fingers like tiny waves.
You noticed a flush crawl up his neck at the compliment. He always seemed to turn sheepish whenever you admired his appearance, but that only made you want to do it that much more.
He snorted, shaking his head. A smirk altered his expression, turning embarrassment to a rising confidence. "You like it then?"
"Like it?" You parroted. "Buck, I want to jump your bones."
His smile widened, dipping his head to lock his darkening eyes with you. "Yeah?" He brought his metal hand up to snake under your shirt. You shivered, icy-cool plating sliding up your torso, evoking a chill on your warmed skin.
"You turned on, sweetheart? What is it, the uniform, or what I can do to you while wearin' it?" he whispered, voice husky as he lowered his face to be inches from yours.
You gazed up through your lashes, fingers trailing beside the buttons that begged to be ripped open. "A little of both," you muttered, tone laced in syrupy honey. Your digits drifted lower and lower until they gingerly dragged over the half hard-on that was faintly making an appearance behind the denim.
His jaw ticked; he hated being teased, especially when you made it your mission to hear those sweet whimpers falling from his lips in breathy gasps. You cupped him over his jeans, never enough to provide any real pleasure. Still, he let a huff of air out of his flaring nostrils.
You granted him more pressure, rubbing the heel of your palm over his bulge. You could feel him grow under your touch, even if it was only teasing strokes. His hand gripped your waist in a desperate attempt to stay in control. Your other hand reached up to slowly undo his belt as you continued your ministrations on his denim-clad cock, ignoring the way his desire-clouded eyes bore into you.
But he snatched your wrist before you could even try to get the leather free from its buckle. "That's not how this is gonna go," he growled, jaw tight.
You tilted your head with a smug look flickering across your features. Your other hand remained on his dick, still massaging the outline of him. "Oh, Officer, tell me how this is going to go." Your tone was sickly saccharine, as if you wanted to set him off on purpose.
He seized your jaw with his metal hand, forcing your gaze upward. All the light was snuffed out in his irises; only a dominance remained in those inky eyes. "You're gonna be a good girl and listen to what I tell ya," he seethed, and there was no room for argument.
You wanted to misbehave, give him a run for his money, but that look in his eyes told you it was time to obey. So, you did. You dropped your hand away from his dick and fluttered your eyelashes innocently, although you were far from that.
Bucky's lips lifted into a wicked grin at your eagerness to heed his words. "You dunno how to keep your hands to yourself, do you?" he observed, but he wasn't waiting for an answer. He walked you backwards, metal hand still tight around your jaw, not enough to harm, but to hold you in place as he pinned you with his sharp gaze.
The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he shoved you, causing you to fall to the bed with a creak. You propped yourself up on your elbows, but he snatched your waist and shifted you higher with little effort. He grabbed your wrists, positioning them above your head.
"Don't think I can trust you to keep 'em to yourself," he murmured, collecting the pair of handcuffs that dangled from his belt loop. He clicked the steel around your wrist, the curve digging into your flesh as he did it. You gasped at the sudden realization that these weren't some flimsy plastic pair; they were real.
He chuckled darkly at your reaction as he moved the other cuff around the bedpost and clamped that one down on your other wrist. "If 'm bein' honest, I've had this planned for a while. Your body at my disposal without those hands gettin' in my way."
Your head spun; this wasn't the version of your boyfriend you were familiar with. If he did have power over you, he'd usually be gentle, but he wasn't worried about being careful with you now. He was ready to bend you, break you, until you knew exactly who you belonged to.
In your year of dating, he hadn't shown you a kinky side. If he did, it was on the lighter side. But now, he wasn't afraid to show you just the kind of things he was into. You couldn't deny that it was arousing watching the passion flare in his eyes like a raging fire.
He inclined back, admiring his handiwork and just how delicious you looked bound to the bed for him. You tested the strength of the handcuffs, the chain between them pulling taut. He hummed, a low condescending sound emanating from deep in his chest.
"Poor thing, can't go anywhere. You're all mine, aren't you?" he said, hands grazing up your bare legs until his fingertips traced the hem of your sleep shorts. He gripped your inner thighs, spreading you open.
"What's this?" he inquired, thumb tracing over the damp spot on the material. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment. It wasn't the fact that you were soaked. It never took much to get you that wet around him, but it was the way his eyes pierced through your very being, like he might ruin you from the inside out.
"So wet, my love, and I've barely touched you. You like when 'm in control, huh? When I make you bend to my will." He caressed the damp spot with his flesh hand, finger pads sliding over your clit. You jerked your hips, your breath coming out in quick pants.
"Yeah," you breathed as heat swirled in your lower stomach. His touch was soft, but his gaze was so intense that every brush of his fingers felt overwhelming, as if your senses were heightened.
"'M sorry, what was that? Didn't hear you," he taunted, still giving you the slightest pressure as his digits moved in languid circles over the silk that hid your clit.
"Yes," you repeated.
"Yes, what?" His voice lowered into a gravelly tone.
"Yes, sir," the title rolled off your tongue as if you'd said it a thousand times. He smiled down at you, metal hand outstretched to tuck a hair behind your ear.
"There she is. There's my good girl," he commended. Calloused fingers traced along the waistband of your shorts, thumbs dipping below the fabric to slip them down your legs.
Once they were off, he was gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up to press against your stomach. You were exposed, cunt spread as he stared down at the slick that glistened in the dim lighting.
"Fuck, this pussy's beggin' to be ate, isn't she?" he grunted, and you nodded frantically. You were throbbing in anticipation for any pleasure he might give you, and he looked hungry. A craving for you flickered across steel blue eyes, making your skin tingle.
He licked his bottom lip before he spoke. "Gonna give her what she needs. You gotta be good for me, though. Want those pretty eyes on me the whole time. If you look away, I stop. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," you responded eagerly.
He hummed in approval. He glanced down at your aching cunt again, his mouth twitching. Then, a string of saliva was dripping past the seam of his lips and landing between your spread thighs. His spit flowed down the length of your pussy, coating you in a piece of him like a brand.
That's when Bucky dropped to his knees with a soft thud against the wood flooring. With the leverage he had on your thighs, he swiveled you to he edge of the bed, your ass practically hanging off. He lowered his mouth to your pleading cunt, tongue darting out in his slow approach.
He flattened his tongue and licked through your folds, from hole to clit. You gasped at the contact, stomach clenching when he pressed more firmly into you.
"Always taste so fuckin' good, sweetheart," he muttered, shoving your thighs flat against your stomach so that he could gain more access to you. He dove in again, tongue sweeping through you before he was giving you little kitten licks to your sensitive bud.
You whined, balling your hands into fists as you tugged at your restraints. He lapped at your juices before sucking your clit into his mouth. His lips wrapped around you, tongue swirling and flicking at the bundle of nerves.
You were a goner; mewling as he dipped down to tongue at your entrance and back up to lather your clit with his tongue. He worked expertly at your wet heat, tongue prodding into your hole as he devoured you.
"Buck," you whimpered, squirming beneath him. With the way you were chained to the bed and your legs above your head, you couldn't go very far. Not that you wanted to go anywhere, it was just too much too quickly. Your nails dug into your palms as he ate you out, trying to hold yourself together and take the immense pleasure he was giving you.
He locked eyes with you—a wolf feasting on his prey without any sign of relenting. His tongue was a heavy presence on your pussy as he tilted his chin down to bury his face further into you.
Your toes curled above you, the thrill of his actions settling deep within your gut and twisting like a dagger. He was worshipping you with his mouth—you, an altar for him to kneel at as he glorified you with his tongue.
You were wailing, the sounds of your enjoyment were like an amplified speaker—your moans a sweet symphony that filled the space. And your boyfriend was loving every minute of it. He groaned into your cunt, a buzz that made your stomach flex with the new feeling it brought.
"S-so close, baby," you warned, the pleasure rising sharp and quick.
He moved back up, giving your clit a hard suck before releasing it with a soft pop. He pulled back, and you were able to get the full view of his salt and pepper scruff smeared with your arousal. You whined as he just watched you. You wiggled your hips, your need taking over your form.
"Why did you stop?" you complained.
"Oh, were you gonna cum? Don't remember givin' you permission to do that," he was patronizing you with that cocky smirk stretching across his lips. He wanted you to know he had complete control over everything, your orgasm included.
"Please," you begged, a desperate edge to your voice. "Please, let me cum. I've been good."
"Oh, I know you have. Just takin' what I give you, huh?" He moved his hands away from your thighs, and they dropped, dangling off the side of the mattress. "But now, that smart mouth is movin'. You think I wanna hear you bitch 'bout not lettin' you cum?"
He never talked to you like that; your normally gentle, respectful boyfriend was asserting his dominance. He was showing you that he wouldn't let your spoiled behavior slide without chastising you.
"I'm sorry," you said weakly. Your body was jittery from the loss of pleasure, but you tried to remain still to hopefully stay in his good graces.
He let out a heavy sigh, pushing up to stand. He grasped your ankles and planted them on the edge of the bed, keeping you open for him.
"You wanna make it up to me?" he questioned, tilting his head. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement, too tense to answer using words. "Just stay like that. Wanna try somethin' on you."
He reached down, fingers encasing the gun strapped to his hip. He pulled it out, silver glinting as he held it in his palm. Your body froze, joints locking up as he scanned the weapon. You knew he would never hurt you, but that didn't stop your heart from racing.
Bucky eventually leveled his gaze at you, watching the way your chest heaved. "Scared, sweetheart?" Maybe it was the way he said it so calmly, but you found solace in the way he looked at you while holding the gun. So, you shook your head; that restless sensation in your body suddenly felt like elation.
"Good," he drawled. "You know I would never hurt my pretty girl." He clutched the pistol tightly as he moved it down, inching closer to your weeping cunt. You watched with bated breath, eyes wide as the muzzle nudged your entrance.
He placed his metal hand on your knee, thumb sweeping over your kneecap in comfort. "Just relax for me," he coaxed in a smooth tone.
Pushing forward, your hole stretched at the intrusion. You moaned, biting your lip as rough steel entered your plush walls.
"Atta girl, let me feed it to her. There ya go," he praised as the barrel slid in steadily. It felt wrong; your body was rejecting it with the way your pussy clamped down on the foreign object. Your breath came out in whiny pants as he shoved it in fully, the trigger guard pushing up against your opening.
Your cunt flexed around it, attempting to adjust to it, but it was like you physically couldn't. You felt every jagged edge and hard line of the gun. You took a stabilizing breath, trying to breathe through the pain.
The weapon glided out, elevating some of the pressure. He forced it back in unhurriedly as if he had all the time in the world. You were gasping for breath, jaw clenched in a silent scream.
"Shh, I got you, baby. Breathe for me," he cooed as he drove the barrel back in leisurely. You tried to obey, you really did, but your head was spinning as it prodded your walls.
Your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to regain some semblance of reality, but your mind continued to slip.
You were snapped right back to the present as a hand came down, slapping your pussy. You jolted forward, your eyes shooting open at the sharp sting he sent to your swollen clit. Your wrists wrenched against the cuffs, and the steel dug into your delicate flesh. You screeched, loud and tremulous—your voice sounding thin, as your thighs closed on instinct.
Bucky swiftly pushed your knees apart as he murmured, "Eyes down here, remember? Gotta watch what I'm doin' to you."
You gave him pleading eyes as the gun proceeded to plunge into your quivering cunt. He transferred his metal hand from your knee to your chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger.
He tilted your head down, forcing your gaze to land on your slick folds and how the weapon disappeared between them. "Look how good she's takin' it. Such a perfect pussy," he praised.
Your walls finally seemed to accommodate the unfamiliar device as his words washed over you like rippling waves licking at the sand. You let out a sweet sound from the back of your throat as the pain bled into pleasure.
"That's my pretty girl. Give in to it, baby. Lemme hear you," he rambled, loosening his grasp on your chin to brush a metal-plated knuckle over your cheekbone.
You crooned, arching your back as the arousal built once again, but this time it was spreading like wildfire. Your orgasm was within arm's reach; you could feel the way it infiltrated your body.
"Buck, please," you implored. "Please let me cum."
He let a low buzz escape him, lips twitching into a grin. Then, he slowed down his movement, keeping you right on that edge. "Not yet, my love. Hold it for me," he instructed.
You whined, but you didn't argue with him. You were too impatient for a release that you weren't going to risk him edging you again, so you kept your mouth closed.
The weapon skimmed through you at a measured glide. There was no build-up anymore, just a sizzling pressure lingering in the pit of your stomach. Each press of the gun through your walls elicited another whimper. Your muscles were stiff from the suspense of your climax, and being denied of it twice now.
Bucky's non-human hand came down to your stomach, securing you to the bed as his thumb dipped down to rub sensual circles into your bundle of nerves. Your pussy squeezed around the pistol, crying out in despair. Tears pricked your eyes, vision blurring as the coil within the confines of your gut expanded, threatening to explode.
He picked up his pace, propelling the weapon forward rapidly. The tears fell over your lower lashline like a dam breaking, the salty water coming down in hot streams down your cheeks. You tried to hold out for him, but it was becoming more difficult with every slight motion.
"I-I can't, baby, please," you pleaded with him once more.
"Go on," he enticed with the simple rasp in his tone. "Cum for me, sweetheart."
The knot in your stomach unfurled as soon as you received his permission. You sobbed as your cunt fluttered around the barrel. Your orgasm shattered your body, your figure trembling as your climax dispersed in crashing waves.
Bucky fucked you through it, gun prodding into you as his thumb repeatedly rubbed into your clit. You were writhing around, sheets tangling around your feet as they kicked and skittered off the edge of the bed.
Your form went limp, thighs shuddering as your head lulled to the side. He finally ceased his pleasing movements. He pulled the gun from your gushing hole. He tilted the weapon this way and that, watching the new gleam shift under the light from your juices covering it.
"Fuck," he droned. "Look at the mess you made."
Your eyes were hooded, trying your darndest to keep them somewhat open. He stepped between your spread knees, hovering over you. He lowered the pistol just above your mouth. "Open f' me," he commanded.
With how exhausted you were, you only managed to part your lips slightly. He maneuvered the muzzle between them, shoving it into the cave of your mouth. You enveloped the steel with your lips before he even said anything.
"Be a good girl, and suck it clean f' me," he purred, face inching closer to yours. You did what he asked of you, sucking off your own slick from the barrel. "Get all of it. Hmm, that's it, pretty girl."
He drew it from your lips, a thread of saliva still connecting you to the weapon. He slipped it back into its holster before moving up to the head of the bed. You heard a jingle as he freed a set of keys from his pocket. He slid one of them into the lock with a click as the cuffs loosened from your sore wrists.
Bucky interlocked his hand with yours, bringing your red wrists to his mouth to kiss the ache away. You smiled weakly at the kind gesture, gazing up at him with a warmth in your eyes.
"Sorry, did I go too rough?" he asked, and just like that, his control clattered to the ground. His expression softened as he trailed kisses onto your opposite wrist.
You shook your head, hands reaching up to grab at his leather collar and lure him in. "That was so fucking hot, Buck," you whispered before capturing his lips in a tender kiss. He sighed against your mouth while his lips brushed yours.
He hummed, inclining back as he broke the kiss. "Well, we're not done yet."
Shifting onto the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight. He moved between your legs, leaning over you. He clasped the sides of his jacket, attempting to shrug it off, but you stopped him.
"Leave it on," you muttered.
"Oh, now you're givin' out demands, huh?" he teased, setting the leather back into place. Instead of the leather of his jacket, his hands fell to the leather of his belt. The clank of metal announced the buckle's removal. He unbuttoned his jeans, yanking them down his thighs unceremoniously.
His angry, red-tipped cock came into view as he slid it through your center, gathering your juices onto his shaft. You sucked in air, hands outstretched to clutch his shoulders. He held onto your hip with his metal hand as his other one lined himself up with your still pulsating pussy.
He pressed into you, the head stretching you out even further than the gun did. You let out a throaty moan as he surged forward without warning. He was buried to the hilt, and wasn't giving you any time to get used to his girth. Bucky thrusted deeply into you, causing you to tilt your head back and wail.
He shushed you, seeking out a way to calm you softly. "You can take it. Know you can, baby." His dick rammed into you, pounding you into the bed below.
You keened, your back bowing as he hit your sweet spot over and over, finding it easily. Sometimes you wondered if he knew your body better than you did, with how his tip bumped against your G-spot like a compass pointing homeward.
His flesh hand drifted up your side, tracing over the swell of your tit. His palm came up, seizing your breast. He squeezed and massaged it through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. Your nipple perked, poking into cotton. His thumb flicked over it, watching the way your mouth opened in a silent groan.
His hips meet yours in a kiss of skin against skin. The erotic noises of your soaked pussy and the sounds of pleasure poured out into the bedroom and beyond; you wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors heard you.
"Shit," he grunted. "I don't think 'm gonna last. Almost came seein' the way you were takin' my gun earlier."
Your cunt compressed around his cock like a vice as another orgasm hovered over you. Your skin erupted in goosebumps as you came with a broken cry. It hit you so fast, your vision went white, and you swore you saw stars twinkling in your vision.
"Oh my- fuck-" he hissed through his teeth. With a couple more sloppy jerks of his hips, he spilled into you. Warmth spread out along your clenched walls as he prolonged his own climax, giving you shallow thrusts. He was still spurting cum as he slowed to a stop, your combined release leaking out from the edges of your cunt.
You were still on a euphoric high when he lowered his weight onto you, taking a moment to catch his breath. Bucky nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, nose nudging at your skin as he breathed in your scent. "Did so good f' me," he commended.
After a few minutes of quiet, you eventually spoke, even if your words came out as a frail string of words. "Holy shit, you should get promoted to sheriff."
He chuckled into your neck, his body vibrating above you. "I dunno if I can wear this thing anymore. Some kinda demon took over me," he admitted.
"I liked it," you mumbled. "I want Officer Sexy to fuck me from now on."
He snorted, raising his head to place a lingering kiss on your cheek, then leaned back to take in your expression. "Yeah? We'll see 'bout that, my love."
wondering if there is any point in thinking I’ll ever relate to Delicate / The Alchemy / So High School / Love Story / CIWYW / Labyrinth / BDILH when all I feel in my weary bones and upon my scarred heart are the stitched lyrics of The Prophecy
summary: As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too.
pairing: bucky x healer!reader
word count: 10k
warnings: canon level violence
As a child, you were told it was a gift; placed upon a pedestal above the quaint suffering of a rural town and removed of your innocence for the good of strangers. You’d been made to be revered – honored – for the touch that could mend the broken.
It began with a cut upon your father’s finger – a slip of a kitchen knife that had left a small bead of blood in its wake. Curious eyes glanced up at your father as he hissed at the sting of it and you’d reach forward to place your infant hand upon the cut, a grip so mall it barely wrapped around his finger. He stilled as a soft glow began to emit from your palm. When you removed your hand and began to cry, your father was stunned to find his skin perfectly intact – no trace of a scar in its place.
They told you it was a gift, celebrated you as if you were a blessing from Heaven itself. But they were cruel in their rejoice, selfish in their praise. They had not considered your gift was not a gift at all – but a sacrifice.
Like energy, pain could not be destroyed— but it could be absorbed. It could be transferred. Your father’s cut had not simply disappeared, but instead manifested on the finger of an infant for a few short moments before it faded into your skin; laid to rest amongst a sea of foreign injuries that did not belong to you.
the way I was trying to figure out where is this one shot and what was it called and I found it with the help of @nobod-lmao and @thebuckybarnesvault thank you so much Imm so so so grateful for your help 😭💖
just a heads up to my fellow writers out there that AO3 is currently fighting off bots commenting on people’s works to tell them that AO3 will delete their fics “due to the works being deprecated”, and the deletion will affect their accounts unless the authors delete the fics themselves first. IT IS A SCAM. AO3 will NOT delete your works. please do NOT fall for these bots!
I’ve been told the reason why these bots are doing this is due to copyright infringement issue where they’re trying to steal your works (possibly to train AI but this is just a guess) ‼️‼️‼️and once you deleted your fics, it will be either very difficult or impossible for you to claim ownership of your own fics when they were already deleted.‼️‼️‼️
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anyone know this bucky fic /one shot ? It was basically bucky x reader where the reader has healing abilities but its like when she heals she takes on the injury for a period of time and there is a lil angst about her not telling the extent of her abilities to bucky or the team and I can’t for the life of me remember it if anyone knows please help out I want to read it again! Thank youuu
