Just a lurker

She/her | 35 | I just reblog things... mostly Bucky things.... I may have an addiction...

[indigo123789]

Welcome to my page!

On this blog I'm obsessed with Bucky x Reader stories. Every once in a while I'll reblog something marvel related.

I've got another blog @blurple123789 where I reblog other fandoms. I'm currently obsessed with F1 over there.

My profile pic is my cat. :3

[bunnis-yanderes]

A vampire apocalypse has come, and you’re one of the last humans alive. The entire population was wiped out within a few months, and while a few high quality humans had been herded into warehouses like cattle, you weren’t sure if there were many people left besides them.

For a while, you weren’t sure why you had been left behind.

You watched as your neighbors were picked off one by one, their wooden or metal barriers torn away like paper before they were dragged from their houses kicking and screaming. They often didn’t make it much further than the driveway before the feeding began, and eventually you couldn’t bear to look anymore.

But even as you ventured out to scavenge for food or met face to face with one of the beasts, you still came home alive and untouched.

“It’s because you’re ugly.”

You froze as an older man hobbled down the street towards you, but relaxed when you remembered it was the middle of the day. Vampires didn’t come out when the sun was up, maybe the legends were true.

When your body relaxed a bit, his words finally hit you. “W-what? Ugly?”

The man looked her up and down, leaning against his walking cane. “I heard ‘em talking about it, in them raspy voices the other nice. They done killed a whole family, bless their souls…”

He murmured the last part, clutching a silver cross hung around his throat. “The bastards can’t eat someone that wasn’t seen as beautiful by another person. Vampires themselves are gorgeous creatures so we cant really compete with them in terms of attractiveness. That’s why they gotta rely on human’s vision of beauty.”

The old man continued down the street, his eyes watching the sun as it began to set. “The last person that thought I was worth a damn thing was my late wife… but she’s been gone for nearly thirty years now.”

You stayed quiet, still trying to comprehend the reason you had been left behind and allowed to live. It wasn’t a kindness or from being special…

You just weren’t pretty.

The truth made something ugly well up in your chest, tears prickling in your eyes as you carried the supplies you acquired home.

“I guess I should be grateful…” you said to yourself, placing the canned goods in your pantry. “I get to live… in a quiet world with no friends or family. Everyone is gone and I’m alone…”

But that wasn’t much different from your life before.

You were distant from your few remaining family members and had just moved to the area, meaning you didn’t have any friends. The people you did know were pretty rude and inconsiderate, knocking over your garbage when they passed your driveway and leaving dog shit on your line.

“Maybe they deserved it…”

You instantly stilled the moment those words left your mouth. You hated getting like this, viewing others as worthy of harm just because they hadn’t been nice to you or you had some damn complex.

“That’s so ugly… that’s why no one thinks I’m beautiful…”

You spent the next few months in relative peace, even if you were going a bit insane from the lack of human contact. Sometimes you’d spot the old man and dashed over to talk to him, but he’d hardly give you the time of day.

“Go away, I ain’t getting close to no one and causing their death. You go on home and try to follow my example.”

He was right. Being around other humans during such a crisis could mean falling in love with the most unlikely people. Maybe if you saved someone or helped them in a dire situation their heart would beat a bit faster. Someone in love wouldn’t care about how you look, they’d find you beautiful because they adored you.

And that, was dangerous.

So you took his advice and stayed away from fellow humans. Though you tried to help when you could, giving food to wandering strangers or telling them the closest town after this, you never got too close and remained distant.

But as humans practically went extinct within a year’s time, the vampires were running out of beautiful people to feed on.

For nearly 11 months you lived on in your small home, stockpiled with food and gasoline for your generator. There was little competition in your small town for supplies since most people had been picked off by now, so you practically lived like a queen.

It was a quiet night of watching another dvd you found in town when you heard it.

Knock knock.

You paused the movie, your heart hammering in your chest. That sound was very familiar, you heard it countless nights when you still had neighbors being dragged out into the moonless nights by beasts you could hardly see.

It always started with a slow knocking, like the vampires enjoyed filling you with anticipation and fear. They knew you KNEW that this was going to be the end of your life… and they were thriving off of it.

“You should make it easier for us both and come out now, it’ll be less violent and painful for you…”

You felt yourself stand, your legs trembling as you approached the door. You didn’t want to go out like your neighbors, dragged through glass windows, bare skin scraping against the pavement while you were torn apart.

Your hand wrapped around the door knock and turned it slowly, the door creaking open to reveal a man behind it.

When the old man told you they were beautiful, you pictured a stereotypical gorgeous person… but a mortal couldn’t truly comprehend a vampire’s appearance until meeting one. While you had seen their beast form several times before, this was your first encounter with… this.

He stood before you, fangs glinting in the moonlight as his blonde hair cascaded down his shoulders, fluttering softly in the faint wind. Red eyes bore into yours, meeting your terrified gaze with intense delight that you could hardly understand.

“Ahh, we’ve been watching over you for a while, human. It was cute, seeing you eat your fatty snacks and stare at your TV screen, thinking you were safe.”

He leaned against the wall, smirking down at you as his cloak shifted. A pair of dark red bat wings twitched beneath it, revealing his true nature.

You knew he was a vampire already, he looked ethereally beautiful and stank of blood, but those wings drove it home. He was not a human, and he was there for you.

“W-what… do you want..?”

Even he was surprised that you were able to speak, his eyebrows lifting delicately before he chuckled.

“I guess you would be confused, wouldn’t you? Usually we drag you creatures out into the night and feast on your blood and flesh with no issue.”

You chanced a swallow, your throat feeling dry and your body stiff. He paused, letting his words sink in and fill you with even more anticipation.

“As you can probably tell,” he said after a moment, stepping past you and into your home. “There aren’t many humans left that we can eat.”

The vampire stood in the middle of your modest living room, glancing around with a frown. “Do you humans just enjoy living in such filth?” he asked as he stepped over a bag of half eaten chips.

You felt strangely humiliated by his question, your cheeks flushing, but you quickly regained your thoughts. Why should you care that this monster found your house a bit dirty? You were surviving an apocalypse!

“I can’t even believe I have to say this.”

He was almost whining as he flipped his hair, glaring down at you like you were more of an annoying insect than a human being.

“You’ve been selected for the human breeding program.”

You blinked, and he continued speaking before you could even process his words.

“I’ll be watching over you to make sure you eat well and are taken care of while my colleagues find a suitable breeding partner for you. The area will be clear of most vampires besides me so your human body won’t be so stressed and your eggs won’t shrivel up or whatever…”

Was he… reading a script? You stood behind him in stunned silence, your mouth agape.

“If you can produce enough human children you’ll be allowed to live as breeding stock for the rest of your mortal life. Once you can no longer breed, you may be turned into a vampire and allowed to join our ranks,” he said in a flat tone, waving his hand around at the end as if becoming a vampire would be appealing to you.

“No thanks.”

“You’ll be given good quality food and allowed to socia-“ he stopped reading, your words finally sinking in. “… excuse me?”

“I said no thanks. I don’t want to be your breeding stock or live on in a world where I have to sacrifice my children to get up in the world.”

He stared at you for a good moment, then spoke in a bored, exhausted tone. “What makes you think you have a choice? Those who don’t participate will be eaten or forced to.”

“Sure, try forcing me. That’ll just stress the women out and they’ll miscarry.”

It was a half-truth, but from what he said about your “eggs shriveling up”, the vampires didn’t seem to know much about human anatomy.

He stiffened, squinting down at you before he moved so quickly you nearly fell over. Faster than you could think, he had you pinned against the wall.

“You’d do well to listen, human woman. You have a year to think about your decision before they gather you all for the breeding program. Before then, you better come to terms with your fate and learn to listen to us.”

He took hold of your face, tilting it up so you’d meet with his scarlet eyes. “Because I’m starving, and would love to have fresh human flesh to sink my fangs into.”

He let you go, his claws leaving indents in your chubby cheeks. “I’ll be back tomorrow night with my things… make sure to clear out a room for me. I expect the high thread count sheets from that store down the street and those feather stuffed pillows.”

With a huff, he turned and walked out of your door, leaving you to stare at the empty space in front of you, still too terrified to move.

Would he have really killed you right then and there if he could?

It was then you realized it. They didn’t know that you were aware of what(or really, who) they could and couldn’t eat.

You were not seen as beautiful, therefore he could not eat you, and could not afford to lose you because you were needed for the breeding program.

Perhaps you could find some way to escape…

While you thought over your next move from your home, the vampire stared down at his hand.

The soft squish or your cheeks and the warmth they brought sunk into his cool skin. He kept thinking about how soft your flesh was, how he almost smirked when you defied the council’s wishes.

“Hey, Valentine.”

The sound of wings flapping behind him caught his attention. Valentine knew that voice, and he almost rolled his eyes before he turned.

“What is it now, Cupid?”

The pink haired boy grinned, showing off his newly formed fangs. He was a young vampire, and had just discovered the joys of hair dye and what the humans called “punk music”.

“I heard what that human said. You’re supposed to be guarding it, right?”

Valentine looked the youngster up and down, his eyebrow lifting just a hair. “What of it? Shouldn’t you be home by now? Your parents are probably tearing through the neighborhood looking for you.”

Howls could be heard from the distance, causing Cupid to jump. “Well, I just wanted to give you an offer.”

He stretched out his wings, then smiled as he glanced at your home. “If she doesn’t agree to the breeding program… why don’t we just eat her?”

Valentine stiffened, something about his words making the elder vampire snarl. Cupid quickly explained himself. “I mean, if she can’t breeding stock, I’m sure we could find some shmuck that’ll find her beautiful if we mess with his head enough. Then we-“

Cupid yelped when Valentine took hold of once of his wings, not enough to tear the delicate skin, but hard enough to quiet the young vamp’s babbling.

“As if I’d share a meal with the likes of you. Don’t dare to presume you can eat at the prince’s table.”

The second Valentine let go, Cupid took off into the air. “Y-yeah, Ex-Prince Valentine, you don’t scare me!”

Valentine sneered, his scarlet eyes rolling before he could stop himself. Feeling too lazy to peruse the tiny runt, he turned and began walking back to the palace.

Even if he was an Ex-Prince, having him work such a low level job was humiliating for a vampire of his status that had lived a life of luxury.

But… at least you might be interesting enough to keep him from dying of boredom.

He looked down at his open palm one more time, clenching his fist as if trying to keep the strange warmth he felt from seeping away… but vampires are creatures that feed off of human blood to live, and their cold flesh can never retain warmth again. In exchange for immortal life, the comfort of warmth alluded them.

But… for just a moment while he held your face, he felt it. With an evil smirk, he wondered if he scared you again, could he feel that same heat beneath his fingers return?

Now, he was looking forward to tomorrow night.

A/N: this is the beginning of a yandere!vampire love story. It will include: violence, somnophilia, gore, dubcon, obsession, mentions of breeding, and kidnapping. I’ll probably post each new part on my patreon before posting it here.

[monstersholygrail]

Yandere!Friend With Benefits

Male Yandere x Fem!Reader ||

Your FWB situation was going well until he loses you to the idea of you wanting a real relationship again. But he can’t let you go so he stays, he watches, till you call him up for a rebound after the breakup. He’ll make sure he won’t lose you again

Yandere!Friend With Benefits had been watching you. Waiting for you.

Ever since you called off your little situation together he’s been waiting. ‘I want to try to get back out on the market.’ You had said to him in the middle of a busy cafe.

‘I know you’re not looking to get into a relationship. If you were then maybe we could’ve tried this out!’ The teasing in your voice still rings in his ears months later and the longing hidden in your gaze is still burned into his mind. What did you even know?

At the time he had been too shocked to answer, to voice just how badly he wanted to be with you. But before he knew it you were getting up and hurrying out the door with the cutest blush on your cheeks.

If he had called you after the fact there’s no way you would’ve believed him. Yet he couldn’t exactly leave you either. Especially not after a confession that sweet. He could never let you go now. And together you two had joined in ways he’d never felt before.

That sort of bond didn’t just happen every day, you know. It was worth keeping. Protecting.

He could still see it now even know he had done nothing but watch it slip through his fingers at the time. Your body writhing beneath his, looking like an angel as you squirted all over his cock. Covering him in your sweet juices. Refusing to stop until your legs were jelly and you needed water or else you’d nearly faint when you’d try to stand.

With all the stress in your life he relished being that bliss for you. Besides, you just looked too cute all fucked out, your body jiggling from the force of his thrusts.

Every time you’d try to squirm away his fingers would fog into your thighs and slam you back down his length. Maintaining such a frantic pace till you’d drench his cock with your release, milking his throbbing rob for all it was worth.

All he is left with is the memory… and the cameras he still has hidden across your apartment. It’s his only remaining connection to you. A little sick and twisted of him, sure. Not much different from home videos or couple photos people still keep after a breakup. At least that’s what he tells himself as he watches you.

Date after date comes to pick you up at the door yet none ever make it through. Until one does and a strange ugly feeling twists heavy in his gut. He watches your whole relationship from the safety of the screen.

Never interfering as much as he wants to. He rarely leaves the desk, not trusting himself no to go over to your place and properly claim you as his.

Much to his amusement the relationship falls apart pretty quickly. The guy messing things up by not realizing what a catch you are. Been there, done that. That asshole will soon learn the giant mistake he just made by letting you go like he did.

But, oh? What’s this? Maybe his shot isn’t lost at all. He can see you pacing your apartment, his contact pulled up on your phone.

“Do it, babygirl, just give in and beg me to come back,” he whispers to the screen, stopping mere inches from it.

The second your thumb is hitting that call button he’s bolting out of his chair, responding to your timid ‘hi’ with a blunt, ‘I’m on my way, sweetheart.’

That’s how Yan!FWB finds himself face to face with your perfect glistening cunt. Exposed to his hungry gaze, restraint hanging on by a thread. This is his chance. His second chance to make sure without a doubt you’re his. Also his second chance to get back into the warm snugness of your tight channel.

“Pl-please move. Do—nngh!—n’t stop,” you whine, just as pretty as he remembers. So much better in real life than on audio.

A dark grin spreads across his face as your eager plea. He can feel his tight you are for him. The way your pussy clenches and ripples down his cock as he pushes deeper and deeper inside of you.

You’re so damn tight, tighter than he remembered. It’s like your cunt had forgotten what it was like to be owned by him. Pleasured by him and stretched to the point of reaching your breaking point. And he knows exactly why. It isn’t that hard to guess.

“You’ve missed this, haven’t you baby?” He purrs in a low teasing rumble.

With one more swift snap of his hips he buries himself in your clutching heat to the hilt, his balls slapping settle against your ass. A strangled whimper escapes you as much as you try to hold back. It’s no use, he knows how much you’ve missed him.

“Bet you miss having a real man’s cock stretching out this greedy lil’ pussy. And crave being fucked like the desperate slut you are.”

Yan!FWB rolls his hips, fucking into you with long smooth strokes that hit deep within your hot needy sex. Every thrust has him diving deeper into parts of you that haven’t been reached in months. Stretching you wider around his girth. It pulses and throbs against him, begging for more.

It takes all the strength he has not to just start pounding away at you immediately. But more than anything he wants to make this reunion good for you. Because right now he has never actually felt better. He can feel every inch of you welcoming him back home.

It’s obvious how much you’ve been aching for this. Not only for this but aching for him too. Even if you can’t say anything or admit it to yourself or anyone else.

He can see it in the look in your eyes.

His hands smooth up and down your thighs, hiking them up around his waist. From that alone he watches you quiver. So he angles his hips to graze along your sweet spot just to see you gasp.

“I’m sure that pathetic excuse for an ex couldn’t satisfy you. Doubt he never even bothered to try, did he?” He asks with a cruel laugh. He narrows in to whisper in your ear. “I can tell he couldn’t fill you the way I can, couldn’t fuck you like you need to be fucked.”

The drag of his cock along your walls is driving to ecstasy. You can feel him everywhere yet you need more. And you know that he’s the only one who can give it to you. No other man can satisfy the ache between your thighs like he can.

Stranglers whimpers leave you as you writhe beneath him, ready for more. So ready for it.

He grips your hips harder, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass as he picks up pace. The wet messy sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room as he fucks into you harder and faster with zero abandon.

Pleasure bursts across your body in ways you’ve missed and are sure of now that you can never go without again.

“Oh yeah, that’s it, baby. Take my cock. Fuck, she missed it so much. Take it like the good little cock slut you are,” he snarls, pure dominance in his tone that makes you automatically spread your legs wider. “This is everything you’ve been missing, sugar. It’s what you need— I’m what you need.”

His words churn inside your mind, back and forth with every thrust till it consumes you. He’s right. This is all you’ve been needing. What’s the point of a relationship with some asshole if you didn’t have this too? One night like this is worth ten more with someone else. It’s obvious in the way he works your body like he owns it.

One hand slides up your body, worshipping every inch that it touches until it tenderly wraps around your throat. Squeezing just enough to make you gasp. While the other immediately finds your clit to greet it like an old friend.

Every tight flick or pinch of his fingers is heightened by your lack of air. Tingles shoot down your spine, the intensity of his brutal jackhammering cock sends shockwaves through your body. All thoughts of your ex fade as though he never existed. Only this.

The knot in your belly tightens, getting closer to that glorious release you’ve been in search of for so long now. Your heart is racing as every muscle in your body tenses. Ready to give him everything he’s been wanting too.

Desperate to ground yourself in something your hands fly out and scratches down his back, digging in deeper as his thrusts hit right where you need them to. The relentless rocking rhythm of his hips helps push you over the edge into bliss.

Yan!FWB can tell when you’ve come undone around his girth, can see the way your body starts to shake and tremble as he fucks you with everything he has. Your pretty cunt milks him dry as he spills his massive load straight into your womb. From that second he knows.

He fucking knows without a doubt that you’re now his. That you always will be. No matter who tries to replace him, no one can ever level up to how good he can make you feel. No one can ruin you like he can.

“Fuck, baby… you’re mine. This pussy belongs to me, your moans belong to me— your very being belongs to me. And I’ll remind you of that as many times as it takes to stick.”

[maltes3]

Yandere!Boyfriend x Reader (ft. Reader's cat that hates him)

Yandere!Boyfriend views himself as a dark, calculating mastermind who has meticulously eliminated every rival in your life. He took care of the flirty coworker, he blocked your annoying ex, and he curated your entire schedule around him. But his entire criminal empire completely crumbles the second he steps into your apartment and locks eyes with your 8-pound tabby cat, Mr. Chonk.

Mr. Chonk doesn't just dislike him; Mr. Chonk recognizes him as an apex predator trespassing on his territory. The very first time your boyfriend tried to sneak a lock of your hair while you were napping on the couch, the cat dropped from the top of the refrigerator like a tactical navy seal, hissed directly into his face, and swatted him across the nose. It was an instant, blood-soaked declaration of war.

His yandere logic is completely warped by this animal. He genuinely treats the cat like a romantic rival. He’ll sit on the kitchen floor, glaring at the cat under the dining table, and hiss back in a whisper so you won't hear him. "You think you're safe because they feed you? I could replace you in a second, you furry little demon. They're mine. Stop looking at them like that." Mr. Chonk just blinks at him and licks a paw, completely unfazed.

Yandere!Boyfriend realizes very quickly that if he wants to achieve his ultimate goal of moving in with you and keeping you all to himself, he has to earn the cat's trust. If he doesn't, you’ll never let him sleep over. So, his data-mining and stalking skills are suddenly redirected toward animal behavior. He spends hours on the dark web and sketchy forums, not looking up your background, but searching: “How to bribe an aggressive feline,” “Cat psychology manipulation,” and “Can you gaslight a cat into liking you?”

Yandere!Boyfriend's attempts at bribery are incredibly intense and deeply dramatic. He’ll show up at your apartment with a bouquet of roses for you, and a literal premium can of wild-caught salmon for the cat. He’ll slide the dish under the couch where the cat is hiding, kneeling on the carpet with a deadpan, serious look on his face. "Eat the tribute, beast. Let us form an alliance. We both want them to stay inside forever. We are on the same side." Mr. Chonk just bats the can away and claws his finger.

Yandere!Boyfriend gets aggressively jealous of the affection you give the cat. If you’re sitting on the couch, scratching Mr. Chonk behind the ears and cooing about how he’s "the handsomest boy in the whole world," your boyfriend will literally pout. He’ll crawl over, shove his own head into your lap right next to the cat, and look up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "I'm handsome too. I don't shed. And I don't scratch you. Pet me instead, please." This usually results in the cat swatting his forehead again, sparking a silent glaring match right in your lap.

Yandere!Boyfriend eventually tries to use high-tech gamer gear to win the war. He buys a super-powered, military-grade laser pointer to entertain the cat, thinking he can tire out his rival. He stands in the center of your living room, frantically flicking his wrist, running the red dot up and down the walls while laughing like a cartoon villain. "Yes! Run! Consume your energy, creature! Collapse from exhaustion so I can have her undivided attention!"

The day Mr. Chonk finally decides to tolerate him is the funniest day of his life. Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch, completely drained and miserable because you went to the store, and the cat casually hops up, sniffs his leg, and plops down right on his chest completely pinning him to the cushions. When you walk back into the apartment, you find your terrifying, possessive boyfriend frozen stiff, breathing softly, with a terrified but triumphant look on his face. He whispers to you: "Don't move. Don't make a sound. The demon has accepted my offering. I am officially part of the hierarchy. We can get married now."

[skyamajor]

yandere duke x witch reader

Synopsis: You’re a witch known for making love potions. They're fake. The reviews are real. Your track record? Immaculate. Until a duke walks in, covered in blood, and demands you reverse the spell you cast on him. You didn't cast anything. He doesn't care. And now you live in his mansion.

Love Potion or Love at First Sight?

"Are you sure this is it?"

"Yes yes! This is the love potion. Now pay up or leave because I have other customers to attend to!"

You groan at the woman hesitating in front of you, wasting your time.

You're an infamous witch known in the black market for selling all types of spells and potions for a hefty sum.

Your most popular item? The love potion.

Which is actually just… an aphrodisiac.

But after selling 170 potions? You've only ever received positive reviews. All from noblewomen, lovestruck and happy with the results.

What can you say? You've always known men to be lustful creatures, barren from emotions. After selling a 170 with zero bad reviews? Your ideology is proven correct.

"Are you sure it works?" the woman whispers.

"100% customer satisfaction guaranteed!"

She still looks nervous.

"And if it doesn't work, you can come back and I'll give double your money back as refund."

The woman nods, pays with a pouch of gold coins, then leaves.

Another positive review, you think to yourself confidently, already marking this as your 171st success.

…

You just didn’t expect your first bad review to appear right in front of your face.

The door slams open.

A man stands in your doorway. With black hair and red eyes; blood plastered across his face, clothes, and most importantly his sword.

"So," The bloody man starts, one hand going up to wipe some blood off his face. “You're the witch selling cheap love elixirs all over the market?”

You don’t answer, your hand sliding toward the defense charm under your counter instead.

Because this wasn’t just any man, this was the war-crazed duke feared by all of society.

"You better pay for this."

…Guess you'll be closing the shop for a while.

___________

And… you've been working at his mansion ever since.

Tasked with reversing whatever spell you supposedly casted on him. Despite all your protests, swearing up and down that you never did anything.

He doesn't believe you.

He won't believe you.

Because how else do you explain what he felt when he walked into your shop? That made his sword hand waver and his heart stutter, and his threats turn into something softer?

Obviously, you’ve cursed him. There was no need to investigate this any further, nor did he feel the need to tell you about all these symptoms.

So now you're stuck in a massive estate with a madman who thinks you cursed him, brewing antidote after antidote, watching nothing work.

You could only curse that woman, muttering bitter insults under your breath.

The one who bought the potion and slipped it to him. The one who left you with this mess and then promptly left this world, if the blood on his sword was any indication.

Damn her.

What the hell did she see in this man anyway?

Because here's the thing you're learning, piece by piece. The duke? He's not just some nobleman. He's the nobleman. The one everyone whispers about, who keeps a dungeon beneath the east wing and a graveyard in the west garden. (Allegedly.)

The madman of high society.

If only you'd known he was the target that woman was after, you would've never sold her that potion. Never agreed to the commission or opened your stupid mouth about the satisfaction guarantee!!

But you didn't know.

And now you're stuck with the aftermath…

___________

At first, the madman kept you confined to a workspace somewhere within the mansion.

Close enough to monitor. Far enough to ignore.

Then, he started calling for you more often. Checking on your progress. Standing just a little too close while you worked. Watching you with scrutinizing red eyes.

And then, he started sticking around you 24/7, following you from room to room like some clingy puppy who couldn't bear for you to leave his sight.

Even that wasn’t enough. At some point, you stopped being assigned a room at all.

Wherever he was… that became your workspace.

You’d turn around and he’d be there.

In the doorway. Behind you. Leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time.

Like he had nowhere else to be. Don’t dukes have better things to do? Go tend to your paperwork or something!!

Through it all, he's never kind. Still angry, demanding, and barking orders about reversing the damn spell.

But he never hurts you.

His threats are loud. And his hands are rough, just like his voice that could shatter glass.

But you've started to notice something.

He always stops. It’s all bark but no bite…

And it becomes a routine.

You work. He watches. You brew. He hovers. You try to leave. He blocks the door.

At some point, he has you working in his bedroom.

No, like, actually. He stooped to this level of stupidity, needing allowing you to stay in his chambers at night.

He's sleeping on the bed and you have to sit beside him. On the floor. With your books and your herbs and your constantly dying patience.

You don't know when this became normal.

You hate that it feels normal.

__________

Tonight, you try to get up.

His hand immediately shoots out to grab your wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?"

You don't flinch anymore. The first few times, you did. Now? You just sigh.

"I'm trying to study for a reverse spell. Or a cure. For you, remember?"

"Stay."

His voice is flat. Unreasonable. Like he's not even considering the possibility of you leaving.

"I can't work if I'm stuck by your side, Your Grace."

"Leave and I'll rip your throat out."

You've heard this before. It had you frozen and crying the first few times, but then you realized…

He never follows through.

Not with you.

"Your Grace," you say, calm as anything, "you can't do that. Who will reverse your spell if not the caster?"

His jaw tightens, though the grip on your wrist doesn't loosen.

But he knows you're right.

He's quiet for a long moment, thinking. And you can see the exact second he shifts tactics.

"Then I'll slit the throats of all the guards outside who allow you to leave this room."

"…I'm sat."

You sit back down on the floor. Head leaning against the bed where his hand lingers limbly. Sometimes brushing your hair unconsciously, like it was to make sure you were still there.

And you work on the spell in his chambers all night long. Barely getting a blink of sleep.

He, on the other hand?

Dead to the world.

The madman who threatened to rip your throat out twenty minutes ago is now curled up on his ridiculous silk sheets, snoring softly.

His face is slack and peaceful. Innocent in a way that makes you want to throw a pillow at his head.

You've noticed this before. The way his eyes get heavy when you're nearby, how his shoulders drop when you enter the room. And the way his threats get lazier the longer you stay.

At first, you thought it was the potion's side effects.

Now you're starting to think he just… can't sleep without you.

Which is not your problem. You didn't sign up to be a nobleman's sleeping charm. You're a witch. A busy one! One who is currently being held against her will in a mansion that smells too much like old money and fresh blood.

And yet… Here you are, watching him sleep.

Because if you move, he wakes up. And if he wakes up, he gets grumpy. And if he gets grumpy, he threatens to kill someone.

Usually the guards.

You've started to feel kind of bad for the guards.

"I hope you wake up with a stiff neck," you mutter, dipping your quill in ink. "I hope you stub your toes when you wake up. I hope your breakfast is cold and your tea is bitter and your horse steps on your foot."

His lips curl up softly. Like you're singing him a lullaby.

Your quill scratches to a halt.

"…I hope you dream about spiders," you try, weaker this time.

His smile deepens.

He doesn't wake up. He just… rests. Still peaceful and content. Like your curses are the sweetest words he's ever heard.

You stare at him.

Then you look down at your notes, page full of failed antidotes and useless counter-spells. A truth you’ve been avoiding for a while manifests to the surface of your mind once again.

Nothing is wrong with him.

The potion didn't work.

He's just like this.

You set down the quill to press your palms to your eyes.

And wonder, for the thousandth time, what in the hell you did to deserve this.

Maybe its time you suggest a psychiatrist.

___________

Little did both of you know.

The potion didn't work on him.

It never could have. Years of assassination attempts had made his body resistant to poisons, potions, drugs… Basically anything ingested.

The drink that woman slipped him? It passed through his system like water. Barely a flicker of discomfort, a vague pulling in his chest that he dismissed as irritation.

He came to your shop that day ready to kill the witch who made it.

Not because the potion had affected him. But because he was annoyed.

Someone had tried to enchant him. Someone had failed. And he wanted to make an example of the person responsible.

Until he saw you.

And something in his chest pulled again.

Not the potion, that was already gone.

Something else he didn’t have a name for.

He still doesn't have a name for it. He calls it a curse. A spell. Your fault.

…

It's not.

He was just love-struck at first sight.

And he's been falling harder and harder with each day that passes.

Deep in his sleep, one thought surfaces in his mind.

He’s never letting you go.

[classicfern]

Wait tho pls tell me non british people have also seen this advert bc it’s amazing and very important to me

[benenhaley]

Oh my loooord

[warriorblood1]

The Reviews™ are in

[ninasnon-sense]

I would love to know what the fuck has been going on in Money Supermarket’s advertising department over the last few years.

[luninosity]

OH MY GOD

WATCH THIS. PLEASE.

[guide-to-the-galaxy-deactivated]

oh….my….god

[mainelymoose]

It’s 4 am, I have a fever, and I’m pretty sure I just hallucinated He Man and Skeletor doing the Dirty Dancing

[charlieism]

this is so fucking funny help

[thatfanficstuff]

This may be the best thing I have ever seen

[tardisspeedsterfanfiction]

Omg that was awesome

[kittenofdoomage]

I will always reblog Dirty Dancing He-Man and Skeletor.

[jamrsgang]

Holy hell! My life is now complete.

[lastactiontricia]

This will never not be funny

[silurisanguine]

Wait till you see the Action man advert they did

and there is a …sequel…prequel to the above Heman advert

[injuries-in-dust]

All this for a price comparison website for insurance companies.

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

all this for a WHAT

[vexwerewolf]

"They go to SEX CLUBS and pretend to be DOGS!"

Yeah well you go to church every Sunday and pretend to be a good person

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Save You | Enemies With Benefits | Bucky Barnes x Agent!Reader! Drabble - 337

You like to think you don't work well with Bucky on missions, but you'll always have his back and he'll always have yours.

Warnings: gunshots and minor character deaths.

For @societynsoelsscribbles January Jumble Scribbles, Jan 13th - Arm yourself because no one else here will save you.

A/N: who knew these two would become their own mini AU? Not me, that's for sure! But here we are!

Masterlist | Marvel | Enemies with Benefits | Bucky Barnes

The stun grenade went off with a bang and you followed closely behind, eyes and face covered by your mask. The two operatives in the room went down quickly and you ignored them, heading for the bank of computers against the far wall.

"Agent?" Bucky's voice crackled through your comms.

"Working, Barnes, what?"

"Two more unidentifed bodies, heading your way."

"Thanks."

"So move."

"I'm almost done."

You yanked the thumb drive from the laptop and stuffed it into a pocket on your vest just as gunfire flashed through the fog.

"Fucking hell, do I have to come and save you again." Bucky's voice sounded strained, even through his exasperation. But you ignored him, sweeping low and knocking the guard down by his knees.

"He's down, where's the other?"

"Thought you didn't need me to rescue you?"

"I don't, but you keep insisting on helping, either tell me or shut up."

"Next left."

"I'm heading right."

"That's a dead end."

"You're not helping. Shut. Up." You hissed into the comms before going silent, back against the wall, gun drawn, you edged down the dark hallway, praying for daylight and the whirr of the helicopter evac waiting somewhere outside of the perimeter.

A gun shot went off, the bullet ricocheting against the cement walls and showering you in dust. Thankfully, no hit, but Bucky was shockingly silent.

At the bottom of the corridor you could see his silhouette, working on the keypad of the door, when the second guard appeared from the shadows. Before they could take aim you move, gun ready, finger squeezing the trigger and he was down.

Bucky turned and lifted his boot to move it from the spill of blood painting the floor.

"Do I always have to save your sorry ass?" You huffed, holstering your gun and bumping him out of the way with your hip.

You expected some snappy reply, him telling you to fuck off, you did not expect his hand on your waist or his whispered thanks in your ear.

[promptlyprompting]

"Show me."

"Really, it's not that bad. We don't have to stop. I can keep going, I—"

"Show me." 

[fellshish]

feeling guilty over not working on your fic is so silly if you think about like why are you stressing over the hobby you do in your free time for fun lol wip not whip

[reigningqueenofwords]

Sequin Wallet

Pairing: Eventual Bucky/Reader Word count: 1,206 Summary: Bucky finds your wallet, decides he's going to take care of you, and then decides he's your protector.

Part 1 of His Angel

Taking a drag from his cigarette, Bucky’s eyes scanned the sidewalks in front of him. The week before he’d seen a pregnant cat in the area and wanted to see if he saw her again. If he did he’d send Steve with a carrier to get her to a shelter. Yes, mob boss James Buchanan Barnes had a soft spot for cats. He wasn’t ashamed of that fact, either. He donated monthly to various shelters around the city.

A sparkle caught his eye, making him furrow his brows. Moving to it, he crouched and picked up what turned out to be a sequin wallet that had seen better days. Opening it he saw the ID of a pretty looking woman with bright Y/E/C eyes. He noted a couple loyalty cards to local discount stores, a debit card, and a piece of paper where the cash would go. Pulling it out, he furrowed his brows. 

Electric: $100+ Rent: $1500 Water: $50 Bus/sub fare: $70 Total: $1,720+

Pay last month from both jobs in total: $1,900.

Note to self: Find more work 

He read your bubbly writing. It told him a lot about you. “Jesus.” He breathed, realizing how close you were cutting it. One wrong move and you’d be homeless. You likely didn’t eat much, that was for sure! His eyes darted to your ID again. “Not while I have anything to say about it, Y/N.” He put the paper back and turned on his heels to head home. He would be sending your wallet back, with cash in it. He’d also be sending you various things here and there to take care of you. There was something in your face that reminded him of Steve before he buffed out. Someone who needed to be protected. 

Walking in your apartment after your shift, you felt dead on your feet. You had worked both jobs that day. It was just after 11 and you had to be into work at 7 the next morning. “Hey, babes!” Your room mate (and best friend) glanced at you. “You got a package today. I put it on your bed.” 

“Thanks.” You dropped your bag before slipping off your sneakers. “I work tomorrow morning, but I’ll be home for dinner. Will you?” 

“No, I go in at noon tomorrow, then I’m sleeping over Hux’s.” Kat had been dating Hux for just over six months and you loved them together. You’d been floored when you were told she was dating a man whose name sounded like he came from money. The two of you did not come into contact with men like that! However, he did not. Huxley Lawson the third was a middle class guy whose parents had big dreams for him. “Why?” 

“Wanted to know what to plan to make for dinner. Since it’ll just be me I know I can go simple.” In other words: sparse and cheap. 

Kat chuckled and shook her head. “Just include protein!” She called after you as you made your way to your room, grinning as she heard you laugh. It was a running joke that she was the ‘dad’ of the apartment. Her father had visited once and you knew where she got the ‘protein’ from. You’d made the two of you pasta with butter and seasoning. He’d stared at your bowl and asked where the protein was. You’d told him ‘at the store’ jokingly. 

Once in your room, you were curious who could have sent you something. There was no return address, but it was from someone local from what you could tell from the markings from the post office. Ripping it open you saw your wallet. “Thank God!” You breathed. You’d lost it the week before and had been hoping it would turn up so you didn’t have to go through the hassle of dealing with everything. Opening it, you gasped. There was over a grand in it. That had not been there before. You set that aside and lifted the folded note that had been under it. 

Found your wallet. Don’t look for more work, you have me. Expect more. 

-B

P.S. I hope I picked a good replacement for your old wallet. It had clearly seen better days!

“What. The. Fuck?” You set it aside and pulled out a new pink sparkly wallet. It was still in its plastic and everything. There was nothing else in the box. No clues to who the hell this man was. Putting everything back in the box, you just stared at it as you chewed on your lower lip. On the one hand: you needed the money, but getting another job would have worn you down even further. On the other: some strange man gave you a ton of money and wanted to what? Be your anonymous sugar daddy??? 

Bucky stood across the street from your building and told himself you’d be out of that shithole soon. When he saw you step out, he stood up straight. You were a burst of color in a sea of browns, greys, and blacks. You were talking to who he assumed was your roommate animatedly. In your hand was that new pink sparkly wallet he had bought you. Grinning, he let you get a few feet before crossing the street to trail you. 

Now, despite his ‘career’, stalking hadn’t ever been his thing. He got around that by telling himself this wasn’t stalking. It was protection. You were an angel that needed to be kept safe. He was the one to do that. Steve and Sam were checking out your jobs to see how safe they were at the moment. 

“I’m so excited!” You squealed. “Her music is so much fun.” He knew which concert you were talking about, too. He’d been seeing advertisements everywhere for it. Some local pop singer that was blowing up lately.

“Thank your mystery man.” Your best friend giggled. “We couldn’t have afforded these tickets without him.” When you’d told her what was in that package she had stared at you for a good minute or two before telling you that it was weird, but it wasn’t like you could give the money back. So, you’d spent $150 on these two tickets, stocked your kitchen with $500 worth of groceries, put some aside for emergencies, and then you had $200 for this night out. “Wonder if he’s hot.” She mused, making Bucky smirk. The two of you were in heels so catching up to you had been easy. 

You snorted at that. “You’ve been reading romance books again, haven’t you?” You nudged her lightly. “No prince, mafia don, cowboy, rock star, or professional athlete is going to turn up, declare me as his and then whisk me away so I can quit one of my jobs.” 

Oh, if you only knew. He thought to himself. 

“Oh, you read them, too. Don’t act all innocent.” Your best friend countered. Now he wondered what books you were reading. 

When you glanced at her he saw you were blushing. Ohhhh those kinds of books. Finally, the two of you were crossing the street and he was off to buy tickets to that concert. And look into romance books.

@vicmc624

[herejustforbuckybarnes]

just friends

pairing: Nerd!Bucky x Roommate!Reader wc: +10k summary: After finding your roommate in a compromising situation, you volunteer to give him a hand… and a mouth, kickstarting the most tumultuous semester in your friendship with a sexual benefits deal; wisely, some rules were established. But would those rules be enough to keep you just friends? a/n: Part of Midterms & Metal Arms A College AU Marathon. Beta read by @buckysdecaflove, @w1nter-fairy, and @kileyking. warnings/tags: College/University AU, Nerd Bucky Barnes, Roommates to FWB to Lovers, no use of y/n, smut, secret crush, accidental voyeurism, Bucky calls reader Bunny, grinding, masturbation, use of sex toy, oral sex, sexual free use, breast fucking, thighs fucking, praise kink, eventual p in v, breeding kink, crossposted on ao3, english is not my first language.

Read on AO3 | Collab Masterlist | AO3 Collection | Navigation

The commute from the building where your last lecture was held to your off-campus department was 25 minutes on a regular day using your bike. In Bucky’s case, he took 15 minutes due to his way of driving his restored car.

You knew that.

Your roommate knew that.

That knowledge made it easier to predict when the other would arrive at the apartment. It helped to avoid awkward encounters, like the time he had found you making out and half naked, with your classmate on the couch. Or when you saw him butt-naked as he got out of the shower because he had forgotten his towel in his room.

The only flaw in this?

Yelena.

Yelena, your classmate and best friend, had started seeing a girl who lived near you. This meant that she could drive you home on her way to meet with her new fling.

The day that changed everything had been one of those days. Your lecture would be cut short, and Yelena had been texting Kate as soon as the professor had announced that the class would wrap up early. Leaving at that hour meant less traffic, and to your luck, every traffic light had been green.

“Is this our lucky day? Should we buy a lottery ticket?” Yelena exclaimed after the third green light.

Inside your building, your luck continued because Mrs. Park held open the elevator for you the moment you crossed the front door.

You arrived at your door 10 minutes before your class usually ended. You had just opened your mouth to let out your usual “Hey, Buck” to announce your arrival when you heard it.

A moan coming from down the hall.

You widened your eyes; your keys slipped from your grip, landing on the rug with a dull noise. You knelt to pick them up, eyes scanning the living room frantically.

You noticed Bucky’s books were scattered over the dining table. His reading glasses were there, forgotten by his economics book. A single can of soda was near it.

There was no sign of any other person inside the apartment.

Another moan.

You should have turned around and left, given him the privacy he needed, and come back later. But you didn't. You stood up, and with your keys in hand, you padded silently down the hallway to your room.

The door of his room was slightly open as you passed.

More whimpering, followed by a curse.

You should have ignored it, continued your path, and hid in your room. Instead, you froze, turning to the source of the noise.

Spread over his bed, Bucky was lying down over his covers; his sweatpants and boxers were rolled down to his knees, and his shirt was forgotten on the floor. His fist was gliding up and down his cock, neck exposed as he pushed his head back. His eyes were closed, mouth open, letting every whimper out freely.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your breath turned shallow and rapid as you watched him jerk off.

This was wrong.

You shouldn't be standing there, watching him, and much less getting worked up because of it.

He was your roommate. Your friend. Bucky wasn't even your type for fucks sake — he wasn't an athlete, with a chiseled body comparable to a Greek statue; he wasn't the most confident man out there either, smugly flirting with every skirt with legs.

Bucky was a textbook nerd. Always with his nose buried in a book, a cute stuttering mess, he triggered your cute aggression, not the I want to climb you like a tree and bounce on your cock type of aggression.

“Please, please —ngh,” He begged, tearing up.

You didn't know why you did it, but hearing his pleas broke your control. Carefully, you crept into his room until you were standing a few feet away from the foot of the bed.

In bed, his phone went off with an alarm he had set up before he had fallen into his lust. He reached his hand blindly, turning the alarm off, lost in whatever fantasy he had conjured behind his closed eyes.

You’ll be home in 10 minutes.

“Fuck, I need to — ah, please.”

“Do you need help?” You said softly, in the same tone you always used with him. Warm. Open. Sweet.

His eyes snapped open, finding you standing near him. Your name left his lips, neediness laced with each letter.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't — You're here early, you were supposed to…” He stuttered, covering his dick with his hand and reaching behind him to take a cushion.

“I can help you.” Your tote bag, filled with books, landed on the rug next to your feet with a thud, and your keys followed. He froze. “You said you needed something.”

His throat bobbed.

“Bunny…”

He said your nickname, the one he had started using after he had met you at Yelena’s birthday party in your first semester. You had been wearing a last-minute costume — white bunny ears with a simple white short dress — because your original one had gotten ruined early that day. Bucky had been hiding out on the second floor, nursing a can of beer and hoping that his friends wouldn't find him after dragging him to the party already. Since he couldn't register your name over the loud music, he had called you Bunny the entire party. From there, it had stuck.

“Tell me, Bucky. What do you need?”

“I—” He shook his head.

You tutted. “House rules, remember? Hmm? Always be honest with each other. Tell me.”

“I need… I need to cum. So bad…”

“Thank you for telling me.” You placed a knee on the mattress between his legs, and slowly, you climbed the bed. “Now, let me help you.”

“Bunny.” He whimpered when you removed his hand from his crotch.

“Let me. That's what friends do, right? Help each other out. Always.” You said, tracing your fingers along his leg, getting higher and higher. “Can I?”

“Bunny…”

“Bucky.”

“Please.”

You smiled, and then moved your hand over his length; his cock twitched in respond of your touch, beads of pre cum leaked out of his reddish tip.

“Tell me if you want me to do anything different, okay?”

He nodded, but he was still tense.

“Hey, you can close your eyes and imagine I’m someone else; I don't mind. This is just to help you finish.”

Bucky took a deep breath and threw his head back, closing his eyes. You leaned in, taking his cock in your hands; you began peppering kisses on its tip. Bucky moaned in response.

You dragged your tongue along the vein on its underside, and then you guided it into your mouth.

Bucky cursed, digging his hands into the mattress.

You bobbed your head up and down, slowly taking him inch by inch until you could take most of him into your mouth comfortably.

Bucky was big, with a girth that made your pussy clench in wonder at how it would feel inside you, stretching you until you were a babbling mess.

“Shit, I’m close.”

You hummed with him still in your mouth, agreeing with him since you could feel him throbbing. His hips jerked up in search of the warmth of your mouth; you increased your movements, your hands giving attention to his balls and stroking the rest of his cock.

“Bunny, bunny, I’m…” He groaned, and for the first time, he reached his hand to tap your shoulder.

You removed your mouth with a pop, and kept stroking him as you said: “It’s okay, you can finish in my mouth.”

Before Bucky could reply, you took him into your mouth again and down your throat until your nose touched his pubic bone. Tears gathered in your eyes at the intrusion, but you didn't care; you kept bobbing your head until he spilled inside your mouth with your name on his lips.

You kept sucking him until you swallowed the last drop of his seed, and he was too overwhelmed after who knows how much time he had been working himself up. You took him out of your mouth, feeling him softening in your palm as his breath steadied.

Once you were on your feet, you knelt down to take your stuff up and took his shirt with your hand. When he opened his eyes, he saw you wiping the fabric of his shirt on your mouth, cleaning every remaining fluid from your face. Then you turned around and walked to the door.

“Bunny, wait!” He rushed to put his boxers and sweats back on.

You looked at him over your shoulder, “Yes?”

“You can't go.” You raised a brow.

“You needed to cum, and you did. I helped you out, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did. But, don't you want to… talk about it?”

Even if his skin was all flushed, his pupils still blown, and his clothes were poorly on him, he looked at you with pure worry.

You smiled fondly at him. “We are friends, Bucky. Nothing has to change.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, now… can I go?”

He exhaled in relief. “Yes, you can. Thank you, Bunny.”

“Any time.” You grabbed the door to close it. “It’s your turn to cook dinner, by the way.”

“Right! Uh, pasta? My mom’s recipe?”

“God, yes, please. I’ll take a shower in the meantime; see you in a bit.” You closed the door behind you after hearing his goodbye and then rushed to your room.

Luckily for you, your room had its own bathroom, away from the door that led to the hallway, which meant that while Bucky cooked dinner, he didn't hear you masturbating in your shower under the sound of the running water.

Even if you tried to push the memory into a box and forget it in the back of your mind, you couldn't avoid replaying the scene in his room, nor the way he had moaned your name as he came. And you definitely ignored the way you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning his name as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

Once you were satisfied and clean, you left your room wearing your pajamas. During dinner, things were a little bit awkward, but it slowly got better as you fell into your familiar dynamic. He yapped about his next exam, and you ranted about your lecture that day. The conversation moved to the kitchen, as both cleaned before going back into your rooms.

You and Bucky just clicked together; you had done so since you met. Living together, even if it had been by pure luck — a month into your friendship, you had ranted that your landlord had raised your rent, and he had confessed he was looking for a place off campus; it had been a no-brainer to accept becoming roommates — had amped that. As the months and years progressed, you had gotten to a point where you understood each other and knew exactly what the other needed without the need for words.

He knew when you were stressed and needed silence, reassurance, or when you needed space. But he also knew when you were feeling homesick and needed a hug or a cuddle.

Two days after you gave him a blowjob, you learned that he also knew when you were needy and how to make you cum in record time.

You had been lying on the couch, reading a book on your e-reader after you had been stressing out over an exam. Bucky looked at you from his spot on the other end of the couch, where he had been playing a game on his phone.

“Everything okay there?” He asked, looking at you up and down.

You swallowed, shifting your legs again. “Yeah, why did you ask?”

“Bunny, house rules.” He rolled his eyes and put his phone on the coffee table.

“I'm not lying.” You scoffed.

“You are. You had been sitting there for the past five minutes, rubbing your legs together, and sighing like you're out of a romantic soap opera.” Bucky grinned. “Oh, my lovely Bunny, what are you reading? Is it one of those smutty books of yours?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You attempted to kick him with your leg, but he grabbed you by your ankle, stopping you from hitting him.

“You are.” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “Are you horny, Bunny?”

You shut up, locking eyes with him as he angled his body towards you.

“Do you need help with that?” He lowered his voice.

“With what?” You croaked, mouth dry.

“To get off. I can return the favor right now.” His fingers, that had been wrapped around your ankle, moved up, stroking your leg. “Besides, you know what happens when you orgasm. How the neurotransmitters that are released when you climax help you reduce your stress, sleep better, and help you relax — we share a wall, Bunny. I can hear you on the other side, still up in the middle of the night.” He called you out.

He continued moving his hand up your thigh until his fingertips grazed the hem of your shorts.

You didn't stop him.

“So, can I? You can imagine it's one of the characters of that book… You can keep reading it while I taste you.”

“You’re joking. Making fun of what I said and did that day.” You huffed and shifted your eyes away from him.

He shook his head. “It's just me. We're just friends, right? Helping each other out. I love helping you, you know that.”

You met his eyes again and then nodded, “Okay, make me cum.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He joked and then positioned himself between your legs. “Go back to your book; you can even read it out loud. Guide me if you want to try something out.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled, and then returned your eyes to the screen.

Bucky grabbed the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down your thighs until they were dangling off your ankle. He leaned in and started kissing your now exposed skin until he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath and his nose bumping over your panties.

You kept reading, pressing your lips together to avoid making a sound. He kissed over your panties, and then he removed them. The first drag of his tongue made you open your mouth in a silent cry.

Bucky held you open; his hands were under your hip, in full control of the angle. You had been wet as you read your book, wondering if the main character in your book would be a whimpering mess like Bucky was as the female character rides him; now you were dripping, clenching around nothing, begging in your mind to be fucked on your couch.

No.

No.

It's the hormones talking. I'm just horny.

Having his dick inside you would be too much. If the line in your friendship had blurred, penetration would mean total erasure. But to be honest, it wasn't as if his dick wouldn't be doing something much different than what his tongue was doing right now.

Oh God, where had he learned to do that?

“Fuck, Bucky.” You groaned. Loudly. Throwing your head back.

Bucky removed his head from between your thighs to stare at you when he heard your e-reader hit the ground.

“Is something wrong? Want me to stop or change something?”

You looked at him as if he had grown another head out of his neck, and with your hands, you pushed back between your legs.

“Shut up. Keep doing that. Don't stop.” You panted, treading your fingers in his hair as your hips jerked against his mouth. He lapped his tongue over your sensitive clit, alternating with sucking it and shaking his head to add more depth to his attacks. “Oh fuck, mmm, yes, yes, Bucky, that's so good.”

He shifted, sinking his knees on the couch. Then he grabbed your legs and placed them over his shoulders; after that, he pulled your hips up, half-strengthening his back. He pressed your thighs together against his face, suffocating himself.

The new angle made you gasp; you braced yourself on the arm of the couch. You were now openly mewling. Your loud moans were barely overpowered by the obscene sound of his mouth on you.

You came not too long after that, panting and with your legs trembling over his shoulders. Before he let you down, he grazed his teeth with a playful bite and then kissed the spot.

Your breath was still ragged when you accepted his bottle of water that he had offered. You took a sip of water and then looked back at him.

“Why the fuck did Dot break up with you if you could do that?” You asked, stunned.

He had the decency of looking shy, scratching the back of his neck.

“She broke up with me because I wasn't very social, you know me; she wanted me out with her every single week to a party, and that drains me too much. I can only handle too much socialization.” He explained with a shrug.

“What an idiot, believe me, I’d have compromised my social life if my amazing boyfriend could make me cum as hard as you just made me do. And with only your tongue!” You exclaimed as you put back your underwear and shorts. You would have to run back to your room to take a shower and change in a minute because the stickiness between your legs would drive you crazy.

He took a thrown pillow and hit the side of your leg. “Shut up, Bunny!”

You snorted. “I’m serious. I already knew she had lost a great guy; this just adds more stupidity on her side.”

“Thank you, I suppose.” He blushed.

“Just take the compliment, Buck. It's house rules.” You returned the hit with the thrown pillow and ran to your room, squealing and dodging another hit from him.

The agreement was made that same week, officially getting added to the house rules. You would help him take the edge off, and he would help you, too. Easy. Efficient. Complete trust and free use in the apartment unless stated otherwise.

There was one catch, though: no penetration, no kissing. You were friends at the end of the day, and you didn't want to mess that up.

So you let him do everything else, except put his cock inside you.

He would fuck your tits after hitting a wall while doing an essay, eyes closed as he fought the urge to come on the spot at the sight of your glistening skin and your eyes looking up at him as you pushed your tits together. He had made the mistake of looking down the other day, and after batting your eyelashes to him in an oh-so-innocent way, you had put your tongue out just as he pushed in and took an experimental kitten lick over his tip. He had come in that moment, painting your face and tits with his seed. Laughing, you had continued stroking him until he was overstimulated.

One particular time that you had been stressing because your teammates were useless, you were ranting about it with him sitting next to you after you had finished eating dinner while watching a series.

“Do you wanna forget about it?” Bucky asked after you had finished ranting, and he had already tried to cheer you up, given you his advice, and even offered to help you with your project.

“Please.” You sighed.

“How do you need me?” He asked.

“Just stay still.” You said, climbing into his lap.

“I can do that.”

“And stay quiet.” You added, narrowing your eyes.

“Oh, I thought you liked it when I talk dirty. I felt you clench on my fingers when I talked like that and when I praised you.”

You slapped his chest. “Since when are you this smug? What did you do to my best friend?”

“Since you complimented my oral skills.” His grin widened.

You rolled your eyes.

“What? You had been trying since we met to boost my confidence; it's finally working.”He said, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “Take the win, Bunny.”

“Fine, you can talk. Can I hump you now?”

“I’m all yours.”

You chuckled and braced your hands at each side of his head, grabbing the back of the couch.

You rolled your hips, feeling him getting hard under you.

“Fuck, Bunny, why do I feel this is helping me more than it's doing for you?”

“Believe me, it is helping.” You whimpered with eyes closed, leaning towards him. “So much.” Your voice cracked.

“You’re doing so well.” He praised.

“Thanks for the help, Bucky.” You huffed a laugh.

“I can help you even more, if you want.”

You straightened your back and stared down at him. “How?”

Bucky guided his hands and grabbed the hem of his your oversized shirt, taking it off and leaving you half naked, since your bra had been removed earlier that day.

“I can put my oral skills to use.” He cupped your breast and guided your nipple to his mouth, just brushing his lips against it. “I’ve been wanting to give them the attention they deserve since I noticed how… sensitive they are.”

With the tip of his tongue, he circled your nipple, keeping eye contact with you. You stared down at him, biting your lip to hide your smile, shaking your head slightly at his smug behavior.

You liked it.

Confidence suited him well.

He blew air over your wet skin. “Keep going, Bunny.”

You whined when he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking at it while playing with his tongue over it. You leaned into him and continued dry-humping him.

“Turn around.” He ordered after a few minutes.

“Huh?”

“You still have that frown on your face; you're still thinking about it. Let me help you.”

You sighed and then turned onto his lap, his hard cock snuggled under your ass.

“What now?”

He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you to him. “Lean back, Bunny.” You did so, until your back hit his chest, and your head could rest over his shoulder. “Now relax.” He kissed your naked shoulder.

He returned his attention to your breast, alternating to not leave any too long neglected. With his other hand, he traced lazy figures on your navel and, slowly, oh so painfully slowly, he guided his hand under your clothes.

Your hips jolted at the feeling of his fingers grazing your clit.

“Open your legs, let me touch you.” He mumbled in the shell of your ear, and you complied, spreading your legs over his, his knees under you, locking you in place. “That’s it, good Bunny.”

You whimpered, responding to each movement of his fingers with a roll of your hips, grinding on his cock. His ragged breath on your neck gave him away as to how worked up he was, so you decided to give him a hand. Literally.

You shifted forward to give enough space for your hand to sneak between your bodies, and began stroking him under his pants.

“Fuck, Bunny, this is about you.”

“I want you to feel good too.” You muttered.

He pushed two fingers inside you, matching each stroke you gave his cock with the pumping of his fingers. In. Out. In. Out. Each time you rubbed his tip, he curled his fingers, pressing them on your sweet spot.

“Oh, that feels good.” Your head lolled back, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in the sensation.

“Yeah, bunny? That's good, you're doing so well.” He cooed.

Your free hand gripped the couch, as fireworks went off inside you; the lewd sound of his fingers inside you increased when you gushed around his fingers.

“That’s it, Bunny, let go.”

As you squirmed over his lap, your hold on his cock tightened; his hips jolted forward, fucking himself on your fist, and seconds later, he came.

Your breath was still uneven when you let out a soft chuckle, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You okay?” He asked, puzzled by your sudden laugh.

“Why was I even stressed about?”

He mirrored your chuckle. “I dunno.”

You turned, your nose slightly brushing his face. He did his best not to kiss you right there. To his surprise, you kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“The pleasure is mine, literally.”

You giggled and peeled yourself off him. You reached for the tissue box that you had placed on the coffee table since all this started, and cleaned your hands, as well as your inner thighs. When you were done, you passed the box to Bucky to clean himself.

“Shower and a movie in a few minutes?” You suggested, standing up and stretching, still topless.

“Of course.” He said, keeping his eyes down.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Don't make it weird; you're acting as if you didn't have your mouth attached to my chest like 5 minutes ago.”

“If I look up, I’d want to do it again.”

You thought he was joking, so you slapped his arm playfully. “Of course, Buck, whatever you say.” Your shoulders were still shaking with laughter as you walked to your room, leaving him in the living room to contemplate if all of this had been a mistake.

It became a regular thing then.

You got better at it, reading each other and finding stolen moments to get each other off. Trouble, of course, appeared sooner rather than later — because obviously, none of you had told any of your friends.

Steve was the first to almost catch you, and it had been your fault. That day, on your way home, you had texted Bucky, asking him if he was home after a stressful day. You made the mistake of not reading his text, and when you got to your apartment, you had walked down the hallway straight to his room.

“I’m home,” you said, removing your jacket and throwing it to the floor. You began undoing the buttons of your shirt as you pushed his door open. “You won't believe the day I had. I’m gonna need you to— Steve! Hi!” You widened your eyes and quickly covered your already exposed bra when you found Steve sitting at Bucky’s desk.

Steve blushed and said your name, gesturing a hello. You thanked God that you hadn't entered his room without pants, as you two had begun to wander inside the apartment in your underwear with nothing more than an oversized shirt in your case or sweatpants and a shirt in his.

“Bucky didn't tell me you would be here.” You said under a fake smile.

Bucky got back into the room, finding you standing by the door.

“I guess you didn't get my text,” Bucky mumbled in equal shock to you.

“I did not.” You turned on your heels, giving your back to Steve. “I’ll be in my room.”

Bucky mouthed sorry to you, and you quickly scrambled out of the room. When you took out your phone, his text mocked at you, reading that Steve had come to the apartment by surprise since he needed some tutoring, and that he would be more than happy to help you out as soon as he walked out.

Another time, not as embarrassing as that one, had occurred on campus. You and Yelena were eating some ice cream that the student committee had been giving out when Bucky found you.

“Hi, Bunny.” He greeted you, standing right in front of you.

“Hi! Want some?” You offered your cone as you had done multiple times in the past. He nodded, but instead of taking the cone from your hands, he leaned in, covering your hand with his as he licked a strip of melted ice cream and then sucked some more, all while staring right at you.

“Mmm, my favorite.” The tip of his tongue peeked out of his lips, collecting any residue of the cold dessert, as he kept eye contact.

Fuck me.

You might as well have combusted in the spot; you were horny as fuck since you hadn't had any action since your period started, contrary to him, who had been on the receiving end of your blowjobs.

“I’ll be staying after class at the library. Text me what you want me to get to dinner, okay?”

You hummed, still staring at his mouth. He dared to smile.

“Good.” He finally turned to see Yelena, who had watched the whole exchange like a hawk. “Yelena.” He nodded at her. “Catch you later, Bunny, thank you for sharing.”

And then he was gone.

“The fuck was that?” Yelena exclaimed.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You busied yourself back into finishing your ice cream, ignoring the way her eyes were burning the side of your head.

“Are you guys fucking in your apartment? Is that why we haven't done a sleepover recently?” Yelena accused, making you choke on your ice cream.

“What the fuck, Lena?” You coughed. “We haven't done any sleepovers because you have been sleeping at Kate’s since you started hooking up.”

“Hey, we sometimes stay at mine. And don't change the subject; you didn't answer.”

“We’re not. We’re roommates, and he's my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend too, but you don't look at me like that, do you?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “If that wasn't sexual tension, I don't know what it was.”

“Maybe you're projecting."

She slapped your arm. "Shut up. But you might be right; thankfully, my period is over, so..." she grinned, already thinking of her date night with Kate.

"Lucky girl."

"Going back to you and Bucky. Why the hell does he even keep calling you Bunny?" She scoffed. "It sounds so… sexual, you know?"

"I already told you, he has been calling me that since your birthday. He couldn't hear my name over the music, so he called me by my costume."

"I know that, but that was during the first semester, ages ago, before you two lived together. He knows your name by now."

"It's just a cute nickname. I like it." You shrugged, but you couldn't lie; the nickname had begun to sound more intimate the last couple of weeks, especially since each time he said it with a much more sultry voice than he did before, it took you back to not-so-innocent moments.

"Dot and every guy you had dated hated it, which reminds me — Do you want to go out on a double date with Kate and me? She has this friend that I'm sure is your type. Who knows, Bob might give you a hand and break your dry spell."

You scrunched your nose at her suggestion. Something about someone else touching you in a sexual context made you sick. "I'm fine, Lena. I'm good with my own hands and toys, thank you very much."

"Ugh, you're no fun." She groaned. "The offer is there. Bob is a great guy, but Bucky isn't a bad choice either, if you two decide to finally start dating."

You gave her a shoulder check and resumed your walk towards your next lecture.

If only she knew.

You two were just having fun, helping each other out. You reminded yourself frequently.

You made each other get the edge off… in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the living room, in the hallway, in his room, in the laundry room, in the hallway, in his car. While, after, and before studying or going to work.

His gaming sessions weren't an exception.

Usually, even before you started this, while he was playing video games in his room, you would find your way there and read on his bed or play one of your cozy games on your portable console. Sometimes you would grab popcorn and other snacks, sit next to him, and watch him play.

It stopped being innocent one time you were reading another smutty book that got you so worked up that you ended up touching yourself on his bed. Bucky had looked over his shoulder after you let out a whimper before covering your mouth. He muted himself and asked you to approach. Once you were next to him, he patted his thigh and asked you to sit facing his setup.

“Grind, Bunny. Make yourself feel good.” He muttered before he lowered his mic again and unmuted, going back to his game. You rolled your hips over his thigh, leaving a wet spot on his skin. You leaned on his desk and buried your head in your arms to muffle your cries.

Since both of his hands were occupied, he gave you his attention by kissing your shoulder from time to time. Whenever he was killed in-game and had to spectate his teammates, he took you by the hips and aided you in your movements — sometimes he would die on purpose early on the match so he could play with your clit with one hand and cover your mouth with the other.

When you were close to your climax, he muted his mic, and with his warm mouth in your ear, he praised you as you came, ignoring the trash talk from Sam and Steve about how shitty he was playing that day. In return for the favor, you had sunk to your knees under his desk and suck him off while the other match started, making him lose again and bark an excuse to his friends to disconnect, and then took you to his bed to make you sit on his face while you kept his cock deep in your throat.

The first night Bucky slept with you in your bed after this agreement started hadn't been planned. You had slept together before; naturally, after so much time knowing each other, you had taken naps on the living room couch, or in his bed if you fell asleep there, but your room had been the exception — until that night.

"Hey, are you still awake?" Bucky asked from the other side of your door.

"Come in." You replied with a yawn.

"Did I wake you up?" He peeked his head out, opening the door slightly.

"You didn't. What's up?"

He was standing by the door, visibly nervous.

"Bucky?"

"Can I lie down with you?" He sounded tired. You knew he hadn't been sleeping well, too stressed about his projects. He always pressured himself; you had called him out many times, but he had been raised this way, and old habits died hard.

"Of course you can."

He climbed into your bed and lay down under the covers behind you since you were on your side. His arms quickly wrapped around you, one tucked under your head and the other around your waist, pulling your back into his chest.

You stayed silent in that position, caressing his arm around you, feeling his warm breath on the back of your neck.

“They will still love you if you don't get straight A’s, you know?” His hold around you tightened.

“I'm not so sure about that.” He replied, his voice sounded so… small.

“Well, I do. Because I don't care if you get an A or a C. You're still you, and I love you for that.” You said. “You’re kind, gentle, and yeah, you're a little awkward, and sometimes you forget how to socialize properly—”

You smiled triumphantly when he chuckled.

“Shut up.”

“You are funny, smart, and the best human being that I know of — not because you are perfect, but because you get up every morning and just… try.”

“Bunny…”

“And if your parents don't see that, fuck them, seriously. You don't need to go back there during the break. You can stay here, or go with me to my hometown, or even better, we can both take that trip you always tell me about.”

You couldn't see him, but you felt him melting around you, embracing you close as his breath eased.

“I'm so lucky to have you as a friend.” He mumbles

“Of course you are. I'm amazing.” You chuckled.

“Yes, you are.” He kissed your shoulder over your pajama shirt. "I hope you know all those wonderful things also apply to you. In fact, let's add it to the house rules.”

“What do you suggest?”

“No more stressing over school; we are allowed to fail. How about that?”

You hummed, “I like that. Took us long enough, but it's a good rule now that it's our final year.”

“Let’s try to sleep, Bunny.” He said, closing his eyes.

“I'm trying, but a big nerd came into my room in the middle of the night and won't stop talking.”

“Shut up.” He kicked your leg.

You returned the kick. “You shut up.”

“Shh.”

Stillness lasted almost an hour; you both were already drifting in your sleep when you shifted your hips slightly, brushing against his front. You stayed like that until you fell asleep.

In his sleep, Bucky jerked his hips forward in a sloppy rhythm, which woke you up eventually. Your eyes adjusted to the dark of the room, unable to move since he had you trapped against him.

“Mmm, Bunny.” You heard him whine; his hips were thrusting against your ass, his cock hardening with each movement.

You blinked away sleep and turned over your shoulder; to your surprise, he was asleep, mouth slightly open and chest rising in a steady rhythm.

He moaned your name, and you wouldn't lie, having him basically humping you from behind and moaning in your ear was making your panties wet.

His hand, that had been resting heavily over the curve of your waist, moved down, resting lower, dangerously close to your pussy.

“Bucky, wake up.” You managed to say, biting back a whimper from your part. “Bucky.”

“Mmm?” He hummed, keeping his eyes closed.

“You’re…” You squeezed his arm, but he didn't let you finish. As soon as he regained consciousness, his throbbing cock called his attention; the need to cum ran hot all over his body.

He tensed when he realized what he had been doing.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Bunny.” His voice was thick with sleep. He moved his hips away from you, but yours followed. “Bunny?”

“Wait. Do you need help with that?” You whispered, wiggling your ass against him.

He choked a moan.

“Bunny…”

“I can help.”

“We said no penetration.” He sounded pained.

You bit your lip and then shifted, angling yourself so his cock was nuzzled right below your ass cheeks.

“You don't need to put it in. Just… use my thighs.” You offered.

He was speechless.

“Did you read that in one of those books?” He teased.

“Shut up. Do you want to try it or not?” You wiggled your ass again, making him jolt forward.

“Fuck, wait, don't we need lube or something?”

You looked over your shoulder. “Bottom drawer, behind you.” He looked at you. You rolled your eyes. “I use it with my sex toys, dumbass.”

He would definitely ask about it later, maybe even ask you to give him a demonstration.

Bucky peeled himself from you to reach the drawer. When he opened it, he saw some silky bags of different sizes, a bottle, and a small towel. His curiosity won over, and he took one of the smaller bags, as well as the bottle of lube and the towel.

You turned on your back when you heard the shuffling behind you; he had turned on the lamp on your bedside table.

“I told you to grab the lube.” You scolded him.

“Which one is this?” He held the silky bag high so you could see it.

Your eyes trailed from the bag to his eyes. “My vibrating bullet.”

You saw the devilish grin that appeared on his face. He could picture you perfectly, on your back in your bed late at night after he had fallen asleep next door, holding the vibrator under your panties, your mouth hanging open in a silent cry, brows knitted in the expression he had come to learn like the back of his hand.

His cock twitched.

“Can you use it while I fuck your thighs?” He asked, even if the warm soft light only lit one side of his face, you noticed his heavy-lidded dark eyes; the bright blue was only a slim ring around his blown pupils.

You sighed through your nose, but nodded. The idea sounded really, really good. You lifted your hand and gestured for him to give you the bag.

Bucky let out a happy noise and then proceeded to free his hard cock. He put some lube on his palm and then smeared it along his length. He positioned himself back into position and then slid his cock between your thighs.

You were looking down, watching as his wet tip peeked between your plush skin. You lowered your hand and teased his tip when it peeked out.

“Fuck, Bunny.” He groaned behind you, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he rolled his hips. “Use it, make yourself good, please.”

You complied, taking out the vibrator from the bag after he handed you the lube.

The moment the added stimulation registered in your body, your hips jolted back, meeting his thrust and making both of you moan in unison.

Bucky gripped your hips, keeping you steady as he fucked himself between your legs. With the angle you held your hips, the bottom side of the vibrator brushed his tip when he rutted in.

“Fuck, Bunny, you're taking me so well.”

You whimpered his name, turning your head slightly and kissing his arm that was still tucked under your head.

“Keep going, don't stop.” You encouraged him, tightening your hold around his cock by crossing your legs.

He cursed, digging his fingers into your hips.

“Oh God, I’m not gonna last.”

“It's okay, cum Bucky, cum for me.”

He came with a groan, his hips jerked in sloppy thrusts until every drop dripped between your thighs. With his hand, he turned your face, and keeping eye contact, you came undone, with hot pleasure ripping you apart and pulling you back together for his eyes only.

Mouth hanging open.

Lips trembling.

Brows knitted.

Bucky really wished he could've kissed you in that moment. Muffle your cries with his lips, drink up your moans, and your taste.

But he didn't.

He just stared at you in awe, and if he hadn't just come, he was sure he would've reached ecstasy the moment your eyes locked in his.

He held you in his arms until you came back into your body, and after a few minutes, he got up with the towel in his hand. He emerged from your bathroom after cleaning himself, with your towel now warm in his hand.

Bucky climbed the bed, and mumbling praises, he cleaned the residue of his spent and lube from between your thighs, then he removed your soaked panties, and cleaned the evidence of your arousal.

He discarded the towel, and after roaming in the drawer you pointed out, he took a new pair of panties and, to your surprise, he put them on you, leaving a kiss on your inner thigh when he was done.

Back in your bed, he took his place behind you and cuddled you, holding you in his arms as sleep took over.

Those nights repeated, especially once the semester got to that point where both of you lived and breathed projects and heavy assignments.

Sometimes he would find his way into your room, giving you an orgasm or two before falling asleep. Morning with him also meant waking up with his mouth on you, kissing down your body, or tongue deep in your pussy.

“I like to taste you first thing in the morning. Works better than caffeine.” He had said the first time you had woken up with him under the covers.

You returned the favor, of course, waking him up, stroking him, or with his cock deep in your throat.

The mornings in your room together led to a shower together — only when your shower routine allowed it — and then to the kitchen, where both worked on breakfast. It was easy, the domesticity of all; it made your heart gallop and stop at the same time.

You knew things had changed; god, they probably changed before this whole agreement, somewhere between doing groceries and movie nights with your roommate.

Of course, you weren't the only one who had noticed that change.

“Okay, spit it out, tell me what's going on?” Yelena asked, rolling the grocery cart.

Bucky’s birthday was the following day, and you had been working on his surprise party, which meant an express grocery visit to buy all the last-minute items.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You muttered, taking several bags of chips and dumping them on top of the napkins.

“Oh, but you know. You had been glowing this past week, and I know you; I know when you're hiding something.”

“Lena, just drop it; nothing is going on.”

She hummed.

You thought she had, in fact, dropped it. She didn't.

“You know,” she said once everything was loaded in her car, and she got ready to drive out of the parking lot. “Jason asked about you.”

“Jason?”

“Tall guy, huge biceps, dreamy eyes. You hooked up with him during first year.” She detailed, keeping her eyes on the road.

Oh.

Jason.

The one Bucky had found you tongue deep in his throat.

That Jason.

“I remember.”

“Well, he is a friend of Kate. I met him at a reunion with her group of friends.”

“Sounds like you're finally going steady.”

“Stop deflecting.” She said, giving you side-eye. “He recognized me, asked about you, and I invited him to Bucky’s party, so you can reconnect.”

You widened your eyes. This was the last thing you needed.

“Yelena Belova.” You scolded.

“Wow, full government name.”

“Why the fuck did you invite him? He doesn't even know Bucky!”

“Kate also doesn't know him, and she's going.”

“That's different! She's your girlfriend.” You slapped her arm. “Uninvite him! I don't care! He's not coming.”

“Jesus, woman, I’m just trying to help you out! Exams had been stressful; maybe you need to fuck the stress out, you know.”

“Well, don't. I'm totally fine, I do not need more help.” The words spilled out of your mouth, blinded by the successful rage bait that your friend just did.

Yelena grinned.

“So you are getting help with that. I knew it. You looked extra chirpy these last months.” You widened your eyes in horror. “So who's the lucky guy?”

She glanced at you for a second, a quick read of your face, and then her jaw dropped.

“Oh, my God! Are you and Bucky finally together? Is this why I haven't been at your apartment? You don't want me to disrupt your love nest!”

You buried your face in your hands. “Shut up.”

She squealed.

“That’s not a no!”

“Lena, we are not together… we are just having fun.”

“You don't sound like you're having fun.” Her brows knitted with concern. “Babes, what’s the problem?”

“We are fuckbuddies. But I’m not sure if he wants more.”

“Have you asked him?”

“No. Well — I suggested some rules at the beginning; he agreed.”

“God, babes, for someone so smart, sometimes you do be an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Haven’t you stopped to think that maybe he agreed and you put those rules, because both of you thought that was the only way the other would agree to be that close to actually being something real?”

You shook your head.

“Babes, that guy has been head over heels for you since that night you met. And you had been too!” You opened your mouth. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed a breath out of your nose. “I actually was about to agree with you.”

“That's a first. Continue.”

“I’m such an idiot, but how do I even start undoing it?”

Yelena parked her car right outside your building.

“Maybe start undoing all those rules of yours.” She shrugged.

And you took it literally.

Maybe it was a mistake, and you should have stopped to think about it more clearly, but you were desperate.

Yelena left after she helped you take all the groceries upstairs and hide everything out of Bucky’s sight — which, in retrospect, wasn't necessary since Bucky knew you always threw a party for him. The only surprise was the theme.

And this year, the last birthday being a college student, the theme was costumes.

Just like the day you met.

Bucky arrived at the apartment a few hours later, coming back from hanging out with Steve, who, as every birthday week of his, was tasked with keeping him busy and out of the apartment if needed.

“Bunny! I’m home!” Bucky exclaimed, peeling off his jacket.

“In my room!” You shouted without peeking out.

You heard him padding around the apartment, and just as you predicted, he opened your door seconds later.

“Bunny…” Bucky mumbled, flabbergasted.

You were standing just outside of your bathroom, resting with one hand extended towards the wall. You were wearing a white lacy set of lingerie, paired with an open silky translucent robe that framed your body. On top of your head, like a crown of a queen, were the same bunny ears that you had been wearing the night you met.

“Happy early birthday, Buck.” You said with a smirk.

“Angel…” He said, mouth dry.

“Wasn't I your Bunny?” You pouted.

“You look like an angel.” You chuckled, walking barefoot towards him. “I have died, and I’m in heaven.”

“Easy, you're not dead yet.” You stopped in front of him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His hands shot to hold your naked waist to keep you steady; he didn't remove them even when your heels touched the floor. “This ain't your birthday gift, though; this is a sneak peek at your party tomorrow. You have to pick a costume.”

His eyes widened. “You’ll be wearing this tomorrow?”

“The bunny ears. But this will be under the dress.” You winked at him.

And he whimpered.

He actually whimpered.

“That's torture. Do you know how hard it would be to keep my hands away from you, knowing that?”

Maybe you don't need to. You wanted to say.

“Someone will have to restrain me so I don't end up giving a show out there.” He added.

You laughed.

“Yeah, maybe you should keep that for the bedroom.”

“Or at least until we are alone.”

“Smart.”

“Is that why you're showing me now?” He asked, his hands pulling you closer to him, forcing you to look up to meet his eyes. “To taunt me.”

You nodded. “That, and because I wanted to try out something.”

“What?” He scanned your face, stopping for several seconds at your lips.

You took it as a green light.

You stood again on your tiptoes, resting your hands over his shoulder and the nape of his neck.

And then you kissed him.

He gasped in your mouth, but then he melted in the kiss, cupping your head to control the angle, deepening the kiss.

Heat spread all over your body, overheating you to the point you felt like you were on fire. Without leaving his lips, you removed your robe and then pulled him from his collar, guiding him to your bed until he was lying over you.

“Bunny… the rules.” He said, pulling himself away from your lips, a pained look on his face.

“Forget them.” You guided him back to you, and he surrendered.

Your hands traveled around his body, touching whenever they could reach, pulling at his clothes to remove them.

“I want to feel you.” You whimpered.

“Okay.” He nodded, kissing your neck. He removed his shirt; his jeans followed shortly after, landing near his shoes and socks.

“Boxers too.” You mumbled against the crook of his neck.

Kissing and nipping the tender skin and making him groan.

He lay naked over you, your legs parted and hugging his hips, pulling him close until he could feel the growing wetness in your panties. Bucky moaned in your mouth, as you bucked your hips; the friction over his erection made him see stars.

This was new.

You knew it. He knew it.

Even when he fucked your thighs, he was never that close to your pussy. And when you were in a similar position, there were always at least two layers of clothes between you.

His hips rutted against you, and then you guided your hand between your bodies, pulling your panties to the side.

He gave you a puzzled look.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“More than anything. I want to feel you.”

He whimpered, and after a nod, he resumed his grinding. You mewled as his heavy cock glided between your folds, kissing your clit with each dive.

“More, I need more.” You moaned. “Please, Bucky, give it to me.”

Bucky sat on his heels, looking down at your squirming figure, but you followed him up, meeting his lips in a passionate kiss. He got distracted, lost in your lips, to the point that when you pulled apart to lie back down, your panties and bra were gone, your glistening pussy exposed, weeping to have him inside.

The groan that left him was borderline animalistic. Knelt before you, he grabbed his cock with his fist and began rocking his hips, the tip of his cock hitting your clit with more pressure and precision. You spread yourself open for him, with your hands hooked behind your knees and holding your legs up.

“Bucky, please.” You groaned.

“What do you need, Bunny?”

“You, please, inside.”

He whined, “Bunny, no…”

“Why not?” You cried out.

“The rules.” He said simply.

“Fuck the rules.” You groaned. “I want you, all of you. Please, Bucky.” You begged.

He stilled his hips, needing to focus and think with his brain and not his other head. Because he wanted to feel you, too, bury himself in your heat.

“What if you regret it?” He searched your eyes, his concern only confirming what you already knew.

“I won't.” You worked to steady your breath. “Because I’ve been wanting these since I met you. Especially once I realized how much I love you.”

He shifted, too lost in his mind to realize he had done it, making his cock nuzzle between your folds and kiss your clit. You swallowed your moan.

“You love me?” His blue eyes, obscured by his desire, were bright with unshed tears.

You nodded frantically, and a chuckle escaped you, letting go of the strain of your legs but keeping yourself open. “So much it made me scared to lose you and stop myself from saying it out loud.” You confessed.

“Bunny —” He looked at you with a bright smile. “You don't have any idea of how much I love you.”

“I think I might have.” You smiled. “And I’m pretty sure that anyone who has met both of us knows how much we love each other.”

“Do you think that me gifting you flowers, any chance that I had, was too on the nose?” He scrunched his nose, leaning in and placing a hand next to your head.

You laughed, throwing your head back, making the bunny ears — that until that moment were forgotten — shift, and dig into your skull. Bucky noticed the discomfort in your face and reached out to place the bunny ears back in place.

“Yeah, probably. But me throwing myself in your arms right after might have contributed.” You said, lost in the tender way he looked at you.

“So we are both idiots, keeping each other away from what makes us happy.”

“Pretty much.”

“What now?” He looked at you.

“Well, right now we can continue what we were doing.” You bucked your hips, feeling the delicious drag of his cock against you. “After that, we can talk more about it, but let me tell you, I’m tired of the rules, tired of being a dirty secret, tired of loving you in the shadows.”

“I agree.”

“Do you want to be—” You clamped your hand over his mouth.

“Don't you dare ask me to be your girlfriend when we are about to have sex.” You threatened, and then you removed your hand.

“Later then.” He smiled. “Where were we?” He knitted his brows, feigning ignorance.

“I don't know, where do you think we were?” You teased.

“I think, Bunny.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with each word he said. “I was about to fuck you.” His smug smile was bright when he pulled back enough to see your reaction. “Am I right?”

“Mhm.”

“Tell me if you need me to stop or change anything.” He instructed, lining himself with your entrance.

“Wait.” You gasped when you felt his tip tease your opening. He stopped, pulling back away from you. “Slow, please… You are big.”

He nodded, and then he pushed inside. Your mouth gaped, feeling your walls fluttering around him to accommodate his girth inside you.

“More.” You whined after a few shallow thrusts with only his tip inside you.

He sank deeper, your slick adding to the intrusion. Your hand shot to grip his forearm next to your head.

“You’re taking me so well, Bunny.” He praised. “My pretty Bunny, so wet and tight for me. Breathe, baby, you can do it.”

You mewled, feeling him reach deeper until he was buried to the hilt.

“That's it, so good, such a good bunny.” His voice cracked, pleasure ripping down his spine after a few thrusts.

Your legs returned to the initial position. Spread open, legs up. You felt him reach deeper, each drag adding pressure to your sweet spot.

“Oh fuck, right there.” You whined.

His pace fastened, tightening the coil in your belly with each drill of his hips. He rocked your entire body, making your breasts jiggle with each movement that made your ass hit his thighs, to the point that if he hadn't been holding you in place, he would've already pushed you out of bed.

You were creaming around him, mixing with his precum, forming a ring of slick at the bottom of his cock. The wet clap of skin against skin was loud, mixing with your moans and cries.

“Oh, Bunny, you feel so good. You're gripping me so tight, you don't want to let go, don't you? You want me to stay right there, nuzzled inside you.”

“Yes, ah, yes!” You cried out, wrapping your legs around him with a leglock, heels pressing his butt.

“Bunny, baby, I need to pull out,” Bucky said, groaning.

“Cum inside me, please, breed me.”

“Oh, Bunny.” He whimpered, his self-control snapping like a twig. “Is this why you said no penetration before — mmm, because you knew how much you'll want my cum inside you.”

You nodded.

“Please, I need it.”

His pace grew more erratic; he leaned in, arms braced so he could piston harder. Your arms wrapped around him, nails digging in his skin.

He knew very well that you were on the pill since long before you met him; still, the fantasy of getting you pregnant, marking you as his for the world to see, was making him dizzy in pleasure.

You were babbling now, too cockdrunk to even speak without slurring words that weren't yes, please, Bucky, fill me.

“Such a needy, Bunny.” He taunted you. “Come for me, baby, let me feel you.”

He felt you coming around him first, then he saw your pretty face contorted with pleasure.

Mouth hanging open.

Lips trembling.

Brows knitted.

Your legs trembled as you came, gushing around his cock. Your back arched.

And finally, he achieved what he had only been dreaming of. He kissed you, swallowing your moans.

Your climax triggered his, milking him as he spilled his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. His hips jerked; shallow thrusts made to pump his cum inside you and make it stay there.

“That’s it, Bunny. Take every drop.” He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You slurred, still on the peak of your climax that had prolonged with the joy of being bred.

You came down slowly, falling back into his arms as he cooed praises. He stayed buried inside you, just shifting enough to make you moan, and making sure not a single drop was wasted.

“That was…”

“Intense.” Bucky completed.

“Very much. When can we repeat?” You joked, making him laugh over you.

“My bunny and her jokes, I swear.” He kissed your lips. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you more.” You giggled when he kept peppering kisses all over your face and neck.

He pulled back slightly so he could see your whole face. “Are you okay?” he asked, straightening the bunny ears again.

“Never have been better, but I think my legs are cramped now.”

“Shit, Bunny!”

Bucky quickly straightened his back, bringing you up with him until you were sitting in his lap; the shift made some cum drip around his cock and down to the sheets.

“Better?” He kissed your shoulder, and as you got comfortable with your arms around him, he placed one hand on the curve of your ass, and the other caressed down your spine with lazy strokes.

You nodded, feeling sleepy and satisfied.

“Happy early birthday, Bucky.” You mumbled, reciprocating the caresses on his broad back.

“Thank you, Bunny. Best birthday present.” You nuzzled into his neck. “We are gonna have to explain a lot tomorrow.”

You considered lying, but you knew it would eventually come out.

“Yelena already knows.” You confessed. “She rage-baited me today until I spilled it out. I didn't tell her all the details — but she inferred we were sleeping together. She also helped me see how stupid I was not to tell you how I feel.”

He hummed.

“Why do you look so calm about it?” You narrowed your eyes at him, meeting his eyes and watching him blush. “Barnes?”

“Sam and Steve also know, superficially, nothing in detail. They've been nudging me to confess how much I love you for the past year, but I didn't want to risk our friendship.”

“Oh God, I can't believe our brain cells canceled each other.” You whined, mortified.

“If it helps, you're way smarter than I am; you at least made us progress — I was about to take my feelings to my grave.”

You slapped his arm. “Dumbass.”

He laughed.

“Ready to move?” You nodded against his shoulder. “What do you think about a bubble bath, soaking there until we look like raisins, and then we watch that movie you told me last time? I bought that ice cream you love.”

“Fuck me, you know me so well.”

“Of course I do, I’m your best friend.” He kissed your temple. “And your future boyfriend.”

“Yes, you are.” You smiled at him, and before he helped you stand up, you kissed him.

You were getting addicted to his kisses, you realized, which in part was great because you had so much time to make up for that you would be surprised if you ever were more than a few minutes without feeling his lips on you.

Time for new house rules.

taglist: @satelluna @houseofhyde @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @justwantsomeplums @thearchivistshaven @swimmingnightcolor @w1nter-fairy @sassandscribbles @opheliabbarnes @54nboo @buckyfmd @slutforsr @umbreoni @devililithh @colettebarnes @barnesandashes @metal-armed-muse @heldbybarnes @sheriff-bodecker @bckyslover @demiebarnes @amoremarveloustime @kqtholins @spidermanluvr444 @mathcat345 @singulartoast @erina00 @goldiegirl0312 @buckysdecaflove @ghost-of-barnes @onyx8514 @imtoooldforthis82 @l0singctrl @eilish007 @apenny4thots (+ comment on this post to be added to the taglist)

if you liked it, feel free to leave a like, rb, a comment, or an ask! I'd love to read your thoughts!

[iwritestuffk]

scary dog privilege | bucky barnes x reader

AO3 | Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I just got a parking pass…and I’m too scared to use it even though I need it. My therapist suggested imagining someone sticking up for me if someone were to say something mean, and who better than a vibranium-armed, leather-clad, super-soldier with a glaring problem? This fic is way fluffier than the graphics would have you believe <3 and yes I know it’s nearly July but summer came real late this year

I also just want to acknowledge that this story does in no way whatsoever reflect the lived experiences of all disabled people. This is a work of fiction in a fictional setting based on the real experiences of some in the disabled community. We are capable people and can very much defend ourselves, but sometimes that just gets exhausting. I wish this was not something I even had to think about or explain, but it is unfortunately the world we live in at the moment. The solution? Just be kind to everyone <3

Tags: Disabled!Reader, Fluff, Invisible/Dynamic Disability, Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Grumpy X Sunshine, Acts of Service, Positive Affirmation, Comfort, Ableism (referenced), Post-Endgame!Bucky

“I’m so nervous, Buck,” you fidget with your fingers in your lap, “Why am I so nervous?”

“If your doc didn’t think you needed the pass, she wouldn’t’ve given it to you,” Bucky reasons, pulling the black SUV into the marked parking spot with one hand, the other resting on your knee across the console. “No one’s gonna bite ya.”

You pull the placard out of the glovebox, the thin sheet of blue plastic feeling weighty in your hands, and just…stare at it.

Bucky shifts the vehicle into park and adjusts his sunglasses that had been slipping down his nose. Even obscured, you can still see the warmth in his eyes as he turns to look at you, knees awkwardly butting up against the cupholders, and takes hold of your hand to give it a squeeze.

“R’member what we talked about. You don’t owe anyone your story. These spots are here to be used by anyone who needs them, including you. You deserve to feel good and take up space, and get out of the house without causing a flare-up.”

You repeat after him like a mantra.

I am allowed to be here.

The opinions of others do not negate my needs.

My health is not worth less than anyone else’s.

“Do the honours when you’re ready, doll.”

You chew on your cheek and look to Bucky for his steadfast nod of reassurance before letting go of his hand and reaching up to hang the parking pass on the rearview mirror like you’re ripping off a bandaid. It hooks on with ease and swings with the inertia.

In a matter of seconds, it’s done.

Lightning doesn’t strike from the sky, a crotchety old fellow doesn’t bang on the window to heckle you. With a proud smirk and a soft pat on your thigh, Bucky slides out of the drivers seat. You close your eyes and let deep breaths flood into your lungs until your door unlatches. He offers a hand as you swing your legs to the side and plant one foot after the other firmly onto the running board and step down onto the pavement.

Heat rolls off the asphalt in waves, washing over your face and sending goosebumps across your skin. Not a single cloud obscures the sun, and the songbirds can’t seem to get enough of the wide expanse of blue. You hear nothing but their happy tune and the rumble of shopping carts. The open sky and trees look like someone has dialled the saturation up. Seed pods from the nearby elms made a mess of the parking lot, but they look so pretty fluttering down that it’s hard to be all that upset about it. The unfurling new leaves shine and wave in the breeze, finches and sparrows darting between them.

The air smells like chlorophyll and sunscreen and summertime.

It really is a beautiful day.

One hand on your cane and the other entwined with his, you make your way into the big-box store. The garden centre outside is overflowing with green-thumbs itching to plant their flower beds for the summer and blooms in all shades of violet, fuchsia and gold. Puddles form underneath the plastic pots, freshly watered in the sweltering heat to drip down from the top rack to the seedlings below.

A blast of air conditioning hits you as you breach the entryway of the warehouse, its wide smile welcoming you into the cool. Bucky steers you over to the mobility scooter you usually use here, that had been its own fear to face. He makes sure you’re steady as you find your footing and get settled, unplugging it from the wall while you stow away your cane in the basket with a clamour.

You flick the switch, and the battery panel lights up green and full.

“All juiced up?”

“Ready to roll. Watch your ankles!”

Bucky smirks as you whiz past him at full throttle, a whopping 5 kilometers per hour. You say it every time, and he has yet to grow tired of your little joke. He keeps pace with ease and pulls out the handwritten shopping list crumpled in his pocket, smoothing it out between his fingers before inevitably handing it over to you to decode the chicken-scratch handwriting of the team.

The store is abuzz today, the masses soaking up the icy reprieve while they load up on their summer essentials before again braving the blazing sun outside. Bucky strides alongside you as you attempt to weave through each section of the store, grabbing the things you ask him to fetch or that you can’t reach, checking them off the list as you go along. At the end of each aisle, he weasels his way in front to carve you a path and ensure the coast is clear for you to pass like the world’s most overqualified crossing guard.

However, he dutifully waits outside as you loop around the produce cooler. Even though it’s sweltering out, Bucky will be the first to admit that he has had enough of the cold for a lifetime. He’ll settle for a popsicle from one of the obnoxiously large boxes of in the freezer section instead.

You like your little system, working together like a well-oiled machine.

The high shelves aren’t towering over you as much as they used to. A little kid snug in their stroller gives you a gummy grin that you return in full. Bucky sneaks snacks and sweet treats in between the groceries, and you feign innocence. You hum to yourself and take the time to browse and deliberate, not worrying about how drained you might feel later on.

You haven’t enjoyed a shopping trip like this in a long, long time.

By the time you’ve checked out, the spoils of your trip bagged and packed back into your cart, your receipt is long and you have enough food to feed an army of super-soldiers. You bring the scooter back to its parking space, cringing as it beeps obnoxiously while you reverse. Bucky’s steady hand is already there to help you find your land legs again. He bears the weight of your purchases on his stronger arm, a hand still free to hold yours as you stroll back to the SUV.

This time, any chance of hostility doesn’t even cross your mind. You relish in the lack of obstacles.

“That went surprisingly well, I think! It helped so much, I’m not exhausted, and no one said anything. I’m not sure what I was even worried about,” you muse, swinging Bucky’s arm contentedly in time with your cane’s rhythm against the pavement.

“I promised you, didn’t I?”

“And who am I to doubt you?” you concur, pulling in even closer to his side. “Thank you for being here.”

Bucky, ever the gentleman under the spell of your praise, helps you back up into your seat, a billow of hot air hitting you head on as soon as the door opens. The leather burns against the back of your legs where it makes contact as you reach over the console to turn the ignition and crank the AC, and he methodically packs the groceries into the trunk.

Bucky can’t help but smile to himself, looking past the headrests to watch you cue your summer playlist on the stereo and begin to sway along to the music.

He hopes one day you’ll get to live in a world where you don’t have to justify your actions.

He had glared at the woman who’d made a scandalized look in your direction and took pleasure in the way her cheeks flushed under pressure. He returned the sneering and whispers behind your back with a scowl that would make a grown man cross the street, and the masses learned quickly that Bucky Barnes meant business. The walking wall of muscle and the glint of his vibranium were enough to divert the attention of anyone who knew what was good for them and leave a wide berth.

He’d done his duty. He’d deflected the near-constant scrutiny you’ve always despised. Good, he thinks, they didn’t deserve your attention anyways. There were always going to be people that challenged you, that doubted you or called you a liar but for now? You are safe, cared for and happy, and that’s all that matters to him. Most of all, he is just immensely proud that you stood your ground and made use of the supports you deserved unapologetically, that they made such a difference.

And if they ever tried to keep that from you?

One look at the bared teeth standing guard behind you and they wouldn’t dare.

[jamesbbcrnes]

TRYING TO BE BETTER

PAIRING: civil war!bucky barnes x ex-hydra!reader WORD COUNT: 329 WARNINGS: hurt/comfort, mentions of the winter soldier, 1940s bucky and memory flashbacks, no use of y/n. SONG PROMPT: northern attitude by noah kahan & hozier LYRICS: “scared to live, scared to die.” NOTE: civil war bucky, you have my heart 🥹🫶🏼

event masterlist | day twenty-seven | day twenty-nine | m. masterlist

You both watch the snow fall from inside the apartment, sat side by side on the floor, shoulders pressed together.

It's not like rainfall, where it makes itself known every time it hits a surface, it's quiet, serene. . . peaceful, something Bucky Barnes hasn't felt in a long, long time.

Midnight strikes, you catch it the moment the hand hits twelve, the clock on the far side of the room ticking steadily.

"I know I keep saying it, but I'm glad you found me." Bucky rasps.

Your head, resting against the wall behind you, rolls to the side to look at him, lips twitching upwards faintly, "I told you. Wherever you'd find yourself, I'd find you. . . how's your head?"

"Hurts." He admits softly, "My memory, it keeps coming back to me in fragments, and going to that— that museum. . . fuck, what's it called?"

"The Smithsonian."

Bucky nods, "Yeah, that. It triggered something, a lot of things. But those videos. . . it was like looking at a stranger who was wearing my face."

"That must've been jarring," You offer your hand to him, palm faced towards the ceiling for him to take if he wanted to, "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."

Bucky's hand hesitates briefly before curling around yours, metal cool against your skin. 

"You're here now."

"I'm always gonna be here."

Bucky licks his lips nervously, his jaw grinding before he speaks, ". . . I'm trying to be better, to not be him but I—"

His voice cracks, sudden and horrible, like something ugly trying to get through the cracks. It breaks your heart, to see him struggle with his guilt and his shame.

"I'm scared to try and live," Bucky murmurs as though it's forbidden, ". . . and I'm scared to die, only ever knowing how to be him."

"You're better than him," You whisper fiercely, "Than all of them, fresh start, remember?"

"Fresh start." He echoes quietly with a deep sigh, turning back to the window to watch the snow fall.

🏷️: @metal-armed-muse @kileyking @nightfirecomit @juniebjonesin @chocolatemilkshakex @spring-soldier @spideyskywalker @phoenix-in-writing @buckytakethewheel @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @erina00 @m1rrorcr1ss @stanmarvelous @sassandscribbles + to be added to the tag list? comment on this post or send in an ask!

[pinksplace]

Fertiliz-Her! 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Stardew!Bucky x Scientist/Demetrius!Reader

Summary: Bucky gives you free range of his farm and all the plants and wildlife it includes. You give Bucky fertilizer and any scientific insights you find. Tit for tat. Seems simple enough, but as the days pass, you can’t seem to escape each-other’s orbit. It’s like nature is literally pushing you together, but that would be crazy… wouldn’t it?

PSA: just a girl… standing in front of her Stardew collab, asking it to love her. Check out the full collab here! my friends are so talented and their minds blow me away, both Lewis and Haley are posted!

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: cursing, insecurity, religious imagery and metaphor (no Catholic guilt inducing smut though), anti-social reader, yearning, it’s mutual but shshhhhh they don’t know, hot and heavy make out, not beta-read, not edited, fuck it we ball.

There a few reasons why you love plants.

For one, they're simple. 

They write their DNA in a language that you can understand. Each leaf, petal and root a different part of one larger story. They fit under your microscope and let you study them until your vision goes blurry.

Plants are complicated. Sometimes they thrive. Sometimes… they don't. A plant that was green and lush yesterday can be brown and wilted tomorrow all because the sky looked at it wrong. 

Plants are like people. The rain makes their skin soft. They turn their faces to the sun to feels its heat on their skin. They are resilient, yet prefer a gentle touch. They know the difference between surviving and thriving.

Plants are quiet. 

In that way they way they're actually better than people.

When you lay down in a meadow the grass curls around you, bristles tickling your skin as if to hug you hello. Wildflowers fight through soil and emerge from the long abandoned farm on the far side of the valley. They grow tall and proud, tilting in your direction as if offering themselves for your admiration.

Plants are considerate, gentle, ever present. 

Before a storm, plants will speak. Their leaves will rustle with wind and that breeze will carry their whisper to you. We will survive. They say, with the certainty only known by beings older than time itself. We were here before you, we will be here after. 

Plants exist outside of time.

They will continue their slow climb toward the sun, long after your bones become soil and your blood fertilizer. Until all that's left of you exists within stems and leaves. When all of humanity is gone, green will fight through smog and ash and burst free, starting the cycle anew.

After all, there must always be a tree from which Eve can pluck her apple. 

You think about Eve a lot these days. 

How did she make that choice? Just how tempting was that fruit she so callously plucked? 

Was it perfect? Shiny and ripe for the taking. Dangling from its stem with a tease of come take me.

Was it more subtle? Did Eve's sin have time to fester and build until it was a coil pulled so tight inside her that it wasn't just one simple act at all. It was an explosion. 

Did Eve stare at her sin across an overgrown field, uselessly clutching her pencil and pathetically empty sketch book? Watch as he toiled with dirt and shined under the suns abuse? Would she laugh at you? Remind you that your fruit isn't forbidden, just unknown. 

For you, it feels like one and the same.

Still, you can't seem to look away.

You're not sure how long you've been watching him. Twenty minutes, maybe thirty. You're not especially good with time though, could be an hour for all you know. 

It would just be really pathetic if he's been struggling with the same root ball for an hour. 

His face contorts to something unsatisfied, brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line as he stares down at the already wilting green. It's almost comical as he looks back towards the crate of plant waiting for him, and the three he's already got in the ground. 

His smushes it between his fingers, harsh and grabby as he pinches it to smithereens. He doesn't stop until there's nearly nothing left, a few sad roots dangling limp in his palm as he places it in a much too deep hole.

Bucky Barnes is like a hosta. He grows sturdy, undeterred by shady spots, of lack of water. Honestly you think if Bucky could build a tent around his entire crop he would. As another bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, caught on a thick forearm and wiped away before it can reach his eyes.

From far away he's gorgeous, lush and thick. Eye catching without even trying to be, naturally spell binding. He crept into your garden slowly. An offer to let you study the plants on his farm, which then turned to you giving him fertilizer that you made with your research. 

Nearly six months since his sudden and unceremonious arrival, it's as if he's taken up all the room in your flower bed. 

Larger than life, than your experiment's and hobbies. Than your rather unfavorable feelings about other people and longstanding habit of avoiding them. 

Like a stubborn root you can't seem to get rid of him either, try as you might.

Your voice echoes before you realize you've even decided to speak.

"You're mutilating them." 

Bucky jumps his broad shoulders go taut, entire body freezing. 

You don't notice, eyes locked on the strangled rootball in his big hands.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, swiveling his head until finally he finds you. 

You walk through weeds the toward him, having to lift your legs a little more to clear the dense grass and knotted foliage. You take your time, carefully stepping over mushrooms and dodging dandelions.

You feel his eyes on you throughout, piercing and curious, and probably part offended. You've never been especially good with people either though.

When you're finally close enough, only a few feet away, you speak again. 

"I said you're mutilating them." You repeat, this time gesturing to the poor parsnips at his feet. 

Bucky pauses, following your gaze with similar disappointment. "Oh."

His hands, which you can now see aren't even covered in gloves, come to sit as his hips. Dirt smudges onto his white tank top, even catching the tops of his jeans. Looking lower you're even more displeased at the state of his shoes, what probably used to be light color sneakers. 

Not bothering to ask, you pick up one of the plants from the crate and take it in your hands. It's misshaped from the stores planter, nearly a perfect rectangle. "Poor thing." You whisper. 

Gently, you begin to massage the rootball. Slow, steady squeezes until it begins to soften in your palm. You wait until it's limp, then get on your knees and dig a hole in the same row Bucky had started. 

You only dig a few inches down, enough to hold to the root. "Loosen the dirt, don't dig." You tell him, using the hand shovel to create a sort of crater in the hole. "The roots need something to grab onto." 

You place the parsnip in the dirt, gently filling the sides until you're satisfied with its security. 

You wipe your hands on your overalls as you stand, brushing off the excess soil and finally returning your attention to Bucky. 

"You try." 

Bucky nods, using his forearm to wipe some sweat from his forehead.

He grabs another plant, and stares at it for a moment, as if begging it to cooperate.

You can't help your sigh when once again digs his fingers directly into the rootball and starts to pull it apart. 

Sensing your frustration, Bucky freezes. 

"What?" He asks, sounding more worried than upset. 

With a huff you move to stand in front of him. 

You surround his hands with your own, cupping the plant in his palms. 

"You want to massage it." You tell him, applying just enough pressure to feel the plant give under your combined touch. "You need it to be relaxed." 

Bucky hums, "Like foreplay." He says.

You can't help the way you go taut, hands pulling away as if burned. 

He says it so casually, as if sex is something you talk about. As if it something you do, something you do with him. As if letting another person be that close to you isn't a nightmare in and of itself.

Although you suppose if that nightmare had brown hair and blue eyes and the prettiest pink lips you might not be so opposed.

"Sure-" You stammer, already taking a handful of steps back towards the direction you came. "Yeah exactly like foreplay." You voice betrays you pitching an octave higher on the last word.

Bucky's staring at you like you're a question, that same furrow from before back between his brows. His hands have stopped moving, as if you're more important than anything else he had been busy with. 

Mercifully, he doesn't push. "Thanks," he says instead. "Find anything good today?" He nods back towards the section of the field you had been taking residence in.

You nod, face still burning with embarrassment. "Yes actually-" you start before you can stop yourself, the words flowing like an avalanche. "I found a plant, well it's actually a kind of weed but there's this plant phalaris arundinacea or um, some people call it canary grass. Anyway it usually only grows by rivers but you have this whole cluster of it which is really weird because it's like a hundred feet from your little pond and the rest of the soil around it is pretty dry and-" you catch yourself.

Your mouth feels like cotton because of fast you had started talking, your tongue swelling with embarrassment as you realize the extent of your ramble. 

"Sorry." You mutter, "That's actually super boring."

Bucky shakes his head, finally beginning to return to his parsnips. Slowly he gets on his knees, bending one leg at a time and giving you a truly gratuitous look at his thighs. 

"I think it's interesting." He says, "besides if everything else is out of place than maybe I'm exactly where I belong." There's a lilt at the end, like he had intended for it to be a joke but the punchline got lost in truth. 

It makes your heart pull tight, a feeling you normally reserve for trampled flowers and injured birds. 

"Maybe," You say, "Or maybe the plants just know better than us." 

You shrug, watching as Bucky carefully copies what your had done in the dirt. You cringe as it gathers under his nails, catching in the crevices of his knuckles. You have an extra pair of gloves, maybe you ought to drop them off one morning. You could slip them in his mailbox, he'd never even have to know it was you. If he's serious about this farming thing he'll need good gloves or he'll destroy his hands and gosh they are good hands-

You force yourself to look away, eyes averting to literally please anywhere else. "Its not the only one." You change the topic, "I mean only spot."

Bucky hums, "with weird plants?" 

"Yea." You nod a little too quickly as you say it. "Up on the mountain, there's Sunflowers growing from cracks between the some of the rocks and I figured it was an anomaly but now that there's two of them I think they could be connected."

Bucky finishes pushing the dirt back in around the last root ball and reaches for another. "How can you tell if they are?" 

You chest does a little jump, eagerness sparking. He asked! He asked a question about your plants! 

"Well since they're different plants I can rule out it being a strain or breed thing." You rationalize, "So I'd have to start with the soil, but I need to samples and I'm not allowed to hike alone anymore-"

"Wait what?"

"-and no one ever wants to go with me!" You steamroll right over Bucky's question, completely obvious to the alarm in his eyes. "They all complain about how much I go off trail but it's not my fault! All the best stuff is, I mean I once found an entire patch of wild potatoes!"

"Wild potatoes?" 

"No one complained that time! Everyone had fries for a month thanks to me, but no-" you drag out the 'o' sound, rolling your eyes as you do so. "- You get lost one time and suddenly it's a problem. So I have to wait until someone else plans a hike and I can convince them to let me come." 

Bucky finally stands, huffing with effort as he does so. 

"I could go with you." He offers, shrugging his shoulders. "I uh- hike."

His voice pitches an octave higher on the word 'hike,' surely just in enthusiasm. 

"Really?" 

"Yeah." Bucky insists, "sounds like it's important." 

You're not sure what to do with yourself, heart slamming hard against your ribs as if trying to crack them open and escape. You're used to being shut down, waved off, your thoughts and hypotheses disregarded. 

Yet here is your hosta, shoulders broad and jaw set. Something in his eyes that makes you almost believe he genuinely doesn't mind doing this for you.

You nod, the movement tight. "Okay." 

Bucky hums, returning his knees to the dirt. "Okay." 

A plan is made between mumbles, meet here at six tomorrow morning, hopefully be through the worst of the hike before the heat of the day. You offer to make sandwiches and Bucky begrudgingly promises to wear something other than jeans. 

Once all is set you finally retreat. Settling back into the grass a few yards away and returning to your (still empty) sketchbook and woefully unimpressive notes. Ignoring the pang of disappointment when Bucky goes back to silence too. 

The wind blows around you, swishing through the weeds and singing something like laughter. You wish it would tell you what's so funny. You wonder if the tree laughed at Eve.

You're no stranger to the strangeness of nature.

Sure, you've dedicated most of your life and free space in your brain to figuring out some of its strangeness, but even you know there are things beyond even your comprehension. 

Like the way it seems to pick and choose when it's alive. 

Not alive in the green leaves and turning toward the sun sense. No, alive as in conscious. 

There are times when it's as if the plants hear you, like petals have turned to tiny listening devices. Times when it's like they manipulate themselves to create a new reality. Soil becoming an instrument in their greater plan as they rearrange it to suit their needs. 

Like the first time you met Bucky. 

Truthfully, you'd been trespassing on his land for years with no idea that it even belonged to someone. You knew it like the back of your hand, the sad parcel that everyone avoided. Quiet and calm and perfect for anyone trying to stay away from civilization. 

It fascinated you too, the way it had reclaimed the fields and land. After years of being worked over, you admired the chaos that bloomed when left to its own devices. Left over crops that persevered, wildflowers that seemingly appeared from no where, vines that wove themselves around old fence posts as if trying to pull them from the ground.

The day he arrived the same plants you'd become so acquainted with, threw you into him. 

You'd be just about ready to leave, bag tucked into your shoulder and samples in hand. You hadn't even seen him yet, the bulking figure standing at the foot of the porch. Never one to notice people, you didn't even see him. In fact you had nearly walked completely past him, nose buried in your samples when suddenly your foot caught on a root that certainly hadn't been there when you arrived that morning.

It sent you, your bag, and your armful of foliage flying. 

It was two leather clad arms that caught you, a subtle 'oof' muttered as he took the force of your fall. 

Few weeks later it was a present from the weeds. A tiny little white thing that tracked muddy little paws all over your notebook one after noon. 

A kitten, a teeny little one that purred louder than a plane engine and meowed in your arms until you were standing on Bucky's steps.

"Is this yours?" You'd asked, scratching under its chin.

"No." He'd grunted, glaring at the ball of fur in your arms as it were a loaded gun. 

"Oh." You'd whispered, confusion only growing. Of course you didn't know everything that lived in the woods, but in all your years in the valley, you'd never once seen a stray cat. Certainly not the two it would have taken to bring the one you holding to fruition. "It just showed up out of no where, walked right up to me like it was asking for directions." 

Bucky shrugged, unconvinced. "You gonna keep it?" He asked.

You mouth was already half way open -about to explain that as much as you'd love too- you couldn't, when the cat jumped out of your arms. Landing on the wood by Bucky's feet, it immediately drew a figure eight walking between his legs. It's little tail curling up as much of his calves as possible. 

"Think it wants you to." 

Sure enough, Alpine was wrapped around Bucky's finger in week. Sending him running to your door with a nervous question at least every other day (Can cats eat strawberries? I found her passed out by the vines with pink all over. Yes Bucky, probably just snaked herself into a food coma). The now spoiled and fat cat sneaks off the farm and ends up at your door nearly as often. Forcing you to walk with her all the back to Bucky's.

Worst of all was about a month ago. Their most egregious attempt yet. 

You'd been knee deep in a cluster of a flowers, some wild lily's in a color you'd never seen before. Your hands buried in the soil as you collected some so you could test the PH later. 

Then Bucky had sauntered up behind you, the sudden pitch of his voice throwing you off balance and directly into a pile of flowers. Only you weren't punished with thorns, no pollen. It erupted around you in an angry yellow cloud, plumes of dust spiraling into the air. 

The entire mess leaving you covered in bright yellow. 

"Shit." Bucky had cursed, already walking forward to help you when you stopped him with a single raised hand. 

Ever so careful not to breathe any in, got up, and darted toward the pond. You ripped your clothes off as you ran, abandoning your shirt on a rock and then your jeans at the end of the dock. You hardly heard Bucky yelling after you as you jumped into the freezing water.

When you surfaced, pollen covered the entire pond, swirling in murky yellow bubbles around you. At the end of the dock stood a breathless Bucky, pink cheeked and wide eyed as he stared at the water.

Wordlessly, he stretched out his hand again, and this time you took it, letting his strength lift you from the frigid water. He only lets go once you're safely on the wooden planks, dripping onto the boards as you exhaled a sigh of relief. 

"Thanks." You whispered, equally as breathless.

Bucky however, just nodded, his throat bobbing as he took the state of you in. 

Bra, panties, and embarrassing white ankle socks. All of which were now soaked through and borderline see-through.

He choked out something about a towel, shaking his head as he started off towards his house, cursing under his breath. Leaving you to wait by the pond, alone with the pip-plop of the water dripping off you and buzzing of frantic bees collecting the pollen you'd stirred up. Even softer, you could have sworn you heard giggling.

Now, as you lead Bucky on the familiar trail, you can't help but watch every leaf a little bit closer.

It's been silent for the better part of the hike, quiet companionship as you slowly work your way up. Bucky's a few feet behind you, lingering close enough for you to hear his footsteps, but far away enough for you to not worry about if he can hear your labored breathing. 

Still, heaving chest aside, excitement stirs inside you. A fluttering of joy in your stomach as you take in the mountain around you. The rustles of leaves as birds sing above you, the way your boots crunch on the gravel , a symphony of mother nature's finest. 

"Is it supposed to rain today?" It's the first thing Bucky's said in an hour, or grumbled is perhaps more accurate. 

You'd checked the weather station three separate times, clear skies.

"No." You gesture to the crystal blue above you. "Looks fine to me."

Bucky grumbles something behind you, unintelligible. 

"What was that?"

"Just said it feels like it is all." He repeats, you can hear his arm whirring in protest as he moves it, machine fighting him. 

You're struck with a sudden worrying thought. "Oh- is it not water proof?" You concern is instant, enough to make you stop in your tracks and turn around to look at him. 

Bucky stops too, and for the first time since you started you actually pause to take him in.

He's glossy, not quite sweaty but enough to make him shine under the bright sun. The jacket he'd started the hike in had been discarded unbeknownst to you, leaving him in a tight black tank top. 

The arm hangs low at his side, fist clenching and clenching. 

"No, it is." Bucky assures, "Pretty sure this thing could survive just about everything. I don't know I just got a feeling." 

"A feeling?" You repeat, skepticism clear. 

"Yeah." Bucky nods, looking up at the sky with a glare. 

He doesn't say more, you don't find the courage to ask. Instead you keep hiking, turning back to the trail and continuing the trek. 

"We're almost there." You shout towards Bucky. "At least I think we are." 

The gravel starts to get loose beneath your feet, forcing you to push your heels down harder with every step. 

"I mean this all feels familiar." You add, nervously suddenly desperate to fill the silence. "I probably should have written down where exactly they were but I didn't have a pen and everyone was yelling for me to keep moving-" 

A rock catches you the toe of your boot, cutting you offer with a swift trip flat on to your face. 

The rest of your sentence is lost in a gasp and pained 'oomf' as you fall. Your hands try to catch your weight but between the pack on your back and your typical shit luck they do little to soften the blow. 

It stings everywhere, your knees, your calves, your arms and hands. Like your entire body was dragged along the trail until every inch of exposed skin was kissed by a stone.

Bucky's rushing up to you right away, shoving his bag off his shoulder and sliding onto the ground beside your head. 

You can hear a him chuckle, low and good humored. You know he doesn't mean to laugh at you, well he does but not that like that. Still, it stings, more than any scrape. 

"I know you like dirt, but you don't have to kiss it sweetheart." He jokes.

Your eyes start to sting too, tears burning at the corners. You stay staring at the ground, hands screaming as you brace yourself on them. 

Don't look up, don't look up. Don't let him see. You're fine it was stupid you're fine. You're normal-

"Oh shit wait-" Bucky's voice softens, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and turn it toward him. "Hey, hey, hey, you're okay." He coos, thumb rolling over your cheek.

Any humor is gone from his face, fully replaced with worry. It's almost worse.

Fuck.

The tears spill, first one then two. Building until you're close to sobs. 

Then the blubbering comes, "I'm sorry-" you gasp, sitting up and doing your best to push him away. "This is stupid I'm sorry." 

The words are wet and small, pathetic like this stupid plant and your stupid flowers and you, and God, why can't you just take a joke? Why is your skin so paper fucking thin?

"Hey quit that." Bucky whispers, forcing himself close once again. "Nothing here is stupid, but my bad joke. Okay?" 

His hands are back on your face, warm and big enough to dwarf your entire cheek. "I'm sorry." You whisper again, hiccuping as you lean into his touch. 

"Who made you think you need to apologize all the time?" Bucky asks, "Did nothin' wrong sweetheart."

Slowly, things level out, your breathing evens and the tears finally start to slow. Bucky doesn't move an inch, his eyes locked on yours as he wipes the tears from your cheeks until they finally stop.

"You okay?" Bucky asks.

You nod, not trusting your voice. 

He pulls his hands back from your face, taking your wrists instead and using them to turn your hands up so he can see.

"Got yourself good." He says, gently scraping the stuck rocks off of your palm. They're a mess, bloodied and covered in dirt. "Need to clean these." 

The whimper that escapes is unconscious, a half baked protest that only makes embarrassment curl harder in your chest. 

"I know." Bucky says sympathetically. "I have stuff in my bag." Hes already reaching behind him, grabbing the strap of his pack when a clap of thunder echoes. 

It's barely a warning, hardly enough time for your look up in surprise when suddenly the sky opens. 

At first it's hardly a drizzle, one or two drops landing on your nose. 

Then it's a downpour. Sudden and violent as it washes over you. You're soaked in an instant, clothes wet through to the bone.

Bucky's back to cursing, any softness replaced with stony determination. One second he's pulling his bag over his shoulder and the next he's sliding one arm beneath your knees and the other under your back. 

You can't even hear your surprised yelp over the rain, the rapid putter-patter of the drops cancelling out anything that might've escaped when Bucky suddenly stands. 

Understandably, you jolt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as you fight to hold on. 

You're too disoriented to notice much of anything, between the rain, the cuts, and the feeling of Bucky's arms around you, nothing makes sense. 

There's movement, the rise and fall of a jog. You can almost make out some of the words Bucky's trying to yell to you. Something about being right, and did he just say cave?

Calling it a cave was being generous. 

Alcove is more appropriate, just enough room for you and Bucky to escape the rain. 

Not enough room for you to sit without touching, your legs all but in his lap as your curl against the wall. 

You're both breathing heavy, a come down from the adrenaline as your bodies try to catch up to every sensation. 

Bucky's staring outside, looking at the rain with furrowed brows, as if it's offended him someone by daring to fall. 

"How did you know?" You ask, turning yourself further in towards him. 

Bucky shrugs, "My shoulder," his hand comes up to touch it, kneading over the exposed scar as he speaks. "It aches when it's gonna rain." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah it's like my nerves can tell? I don't know it's weird, but it's never wrong." 

You hum, his gaze is still towards the outside so you let yours fall on him. He looks unreal this close, high definition Bucky. 

You wonder if you stared long enough could you could his stubble? It's short, neatly trimmed. As if he just did it this morning, fresh edges under his jaw. 

Unthinking you reach out and touch it. With your chest already pressed into his shoulder, what do you have to lose? 

Bucky startles at first, jumping under your touch before immediately relaxing. Well, at least as much as you can imagine a man like him does relax. 

Slowly you trace your thumb over it, dragging it across the seam of where hair meets skin. Even after the rain you can smell his after shave, deep and musky. He must have just don't it this morning. How early did he have to wake up to shave? Why was it so important for a hike?

"We didn't have to do this today." You offer, even though it's useless now. 

"What-" Bucky's already protesting, turning his head to look at you fully. Your hand stops, landing just next to his Adam's apple and holding there. 

"If I'd know you were hurting, I mean we could have waited." 

Bucky shakes his head. "No I- I wanted to. I was," his throat bobs, you have to fight the urge to shiver at the way it feels under your fingers. "I was looking forward to it."

You can't help but giggle. "You were excited to hike?" 

It's dim in your little shelter, but even with the lack of light you can watch Bucky's cheeks turn just a little pink. 

"With you." 

Your pulse stutters, and for just a moment the fact closeness hits you. Bucky Barnes pressed against you. Bucky Barnes' pulse beneath your fingers. Bucky Barnes gritting his teeth through shoulder pain to spend time with you.

Those last two words echo, bouncing around your brain as if delighted with themselves. 

With you. With you. With you.

It's your turn to jump when Bucky touches you, jolting you out of your spiral when hooks a finger under your chin and lifts it up. 

"Got yourself good." 

His thumb rubs over what must be a cut, another spot where a stone was unlucky enough to catch you. 

You try to swallow around your nerves, around the way every feeling you've buried seems to rise up the back of your throat. 

"I did?" You manage to whisper.

Bucky nods, eyes fixed on the spot. 

"They're gonna wrap me in bubble wrap at this rate." You try to joke, choking on the tension instead. 

"No." Bucky shakes his head, eyes darting up to look at yours for just a moment before dropping. This time not as far down as your chin. "I'll just catch you next time."

"Yeah?" 

He nods and you can feel the weight of his gaze on your lips.

"What if I fall in town?" 

"I'll be there." His hand shifts, palm moving until it's holding your cheek again. 

"On the beach."

"Yup." His thumb curves lower this time, the pad of it at the edge of your lips. 

"In the mines?"

"Why are you in the mines?" His gaze falters, back to your eyes for a second. 

"There are mushrooms down there that don't grow anywhere else. They're purple and I think they might have some health benefits like improved energy levels and some vitamin gaps-"

"Anyone ever tell you that you talk a lot?" Bucky interrupts.

You nod, embarrassed smile moving his thumb as your lips curve. "All the time actually, a lot of people think I better shut up before it gets me in trouble." 

"Don't you dare." Bucky's voice has gone the lowest you think you've ever heard it, raspy and almost unfamiliar. 

"Get in trouble?" 

"Shut up." Bucky clarifies, he's so close now you can feel his nose against your own. His eyes are half lidded, barely open enough for you to make out his blown pupils. "Love hearin' you talk." 

It's something no one's ever said to you before, something you had honestly figured wasn't possible. Someone who savors your voice not the absence of it. 

Like Eve, the one thing you never knew you wanted has been served to you on a silver platter, how could you not bite the apple? 

Bucky's lips are chapped, rough against yours the way your expected them to be. Torn skin catches against yours, making your tongue roll over them to soothe, as if applying a balm. 

Bucky's hands are everywhere now, as if your kiss gave him permission he had been waiting for. First it's your face, both cheeks held in his large palms. Quickly it escalates, one dropping to your throat to mirror your own touch. Meanwhile the other falls to your waist, grabbing at the soft flesh there in a half-grope half-pull.

One second you're resting on cave floor the next you're being positioned over Bucky's thighs, hips angles until finally you're encouraged to sit. A pat on your hip telling you to lower your weight. 

You drop right over Bucky's thighs, the very tops where his stomach pudges out just a little over his belt and his tank top has been pulled down. 

Bucky doesn't let down until he's satisfied he has your full weight, letting out the most delicious groan against your lips as you settle. 

"Stupid." He whispers, spitting the word against your lips as if tastes bad. "Sweetheart the only stupid one is me for not doing this sooner."

This time it's your turn to push, your lips harder into his, your chest as tight as possible against him. Your hands finally roam, curving over the detailed path of his body. The rough scar on his shoulder, gentle and slow. Then the slope between his pecs, dragging down hard enough for the tip of your nail to draw a red line. Finally over his ribs, where your fingers slot between each divot. 

It's as if the flood gates have been opened, every word you've agonized over, each action you second guessed disappears and is replaced with white hot want. Molten lava in your belly that you never even knew you possessed. 

Bucky gasps into your mouth, opening further into your assault. 

"Wanna make a map of every spot that makes you sound like that and memorize it." You whisper into his lips. 

Bucky nods fervently against you, using his hands to drag you over his crotch, pressing the hard line of bulge to your tingling cunt.

"Whatever you want." He offers, "Study me, dissect me, yell at me about how I'm planting the flowers wrong I don't care." He drags you over him again, swallowing the whimper that bubbles from your lips at the sound. "I'll donate my body to science."

Your brain is slowly falling apart, melting and dripping out of your ears for sure. The rain explodes outside, its downfall turning deafening as the kiss deepens, as if its trying to match your intensity.

Bucky kisses you like it's an attack and a thank you all in the same breath. something between worship and hunger. 

Your body feels the most alive it's ever been, for the first time years its as if you're actually in the moment instead of watching it from the outside.

Thunder roars again outside. This time less like a roar and more like the clicking of pieces sliding into place.

It's not until your lungs start to burn that you pull away, lips bruised and kiss bitten. Your chin sore from where the cut caught on stubble. Your body floaty where it rests in Bucky's lap.

The only thing that matches what you feel is the smile playing on Bucky's lips, a subtle curve just sharp enough to make your pulse stutter.

Finally, the rain stops. Tempering off completely within a minute of the last thunderclap.

When you come out of the cave, this time hand in hand, a warm breeze washes over you. Like praise from the life surrounding you.

You can only imagine their glee when Bucky drags you inside his house later, tripping over the stairs in excitement. 

There are a few simple reasons you like Bucky. 

He likes you for one, that's a pretty good one. If his mumbles when he's balls deep inside you and half drunk on pleasure are to believed, he actually loves you. 

He's quiet, but never the kind that makes you feel judged. He's quiet like the plants, always listening, and always ready to offer you the best solution he can find. 

He's weird, you might even think he's worse than you are. He's read lord of the rings three times and still refuses to watch the movie. He lights up when you suggest growing plums. Walks into town holding your hand and when people ask if you're dating he just shakes his head. "No," he says, completely straight faced, "I'm being studied." 

thank you so much for reading!!!!! I love youuuuuuu!!!

wish you could live in pelican town?

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[superbassbuck]

you make loving fun! | bucky barnes (18+)

⤷ farmer!bucky barnes x f!reader

⭐︎ warnings: nsfw, small town au, banter, neighborly enemies to lovers, pervert!bucky (stealing nude photographs), photographer!reader, fluff, sexual tension, public sex, dirty talk, degrading, breeding kink, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), size diff and kink

⭐︎ word count: 11.9k

⭐︎ a/n: thank you to my precious and dear friend @pinksplace for hosting this bwa stardew collab based on only one of the best games to exist. stardew valley. this is based on the character haley that you can romance in the game, so reader kinda has that mean, spoiled princess trope. I only ripped my hair out a million times writing this, so I hope you enjoy!

synopsis: Living in Pelican Town wasn't all that bad compared to the city life you were used to. With the big farmhouse next door unoccupied, everything was quiet, peaceful, and scenic. Then, Bucky Barnes moves in. Suddenly, you're waking up to the smell of manure, the squawking of chickens, and a farmer who's far too annoying—and far too hot—for his own good or your own comfort.

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Living in a small town, far from the city bustle you once called home, was a change that required a slow and steady adjustment for most people.

You were accustomed to walking across massive city blocks with a shopping center on every corner. You were used to breezy dresses and high heels, always meticulously grooming yourself nicely before ever stepping out of your apartment.

Now, the clean, organized world you knew has been replaced by dirt, soil, and animals.

Heels have given way to cowboy boots. The apartment with the skyline view has been traded for a modest cottage, its windows looking out over the silent and empty farmhouse next door.

Surprisingly, the change in scenery didn’t take long to adjust to. Since moving here, you’ve carved out a life in a quiet corner of town, tucked away from the rest of the townsfolk. With the vast, unoccupied land stretching out beside you, you often find yourself lounging in the grass to sunbathe or wandering out with your camera to capture the blooming apricot trees in the spring. 

It is comfortable, quiet, and— much to your surprise—doesn’t feel like a downgrade from city life at all.

Until one day, you woke with a start to the sound of chickens squawking uncontrollably right outside your door.

Are Marnie’s chickens running loose again?

With a tired groan, you pushed yourself out of bed—your hair poking out in every direction and your eyes heavy with deep, dark circles. You shoved the curtains aside, letting a bright, burning ray of sunshine through the glass to hit you square in the face.

Wincing, you blinked several times to adjust, but it didn’t take long for your eyelids to fly wide open at what you saw just beyond your window.

The once empty farmhouse next door was now cluttered with boxes and crates. Animals that belonged on Marnie’s ranch were roaming freely over the fresh grass where you used to lay out a towel to sunbathe.

Now, it was likely being littered with pig shit.

And in the center of the chaos stood a man you didn’t recognize. 

Sweat dampened his dark hair, sending loose strands draping over his face. He had his back to you—his white tank top and jeans stained dark from dirt and a hard day’s work.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

Was someone actually moving in? 

Or had Marnie run out of space and decided to rent this spot out, ruining the peace and quiet you relished in this corner of town?

To make matters worse, he revved the engine of a lawnmower and got to work, polluting the air with noise.

Grabbing your slippers and hastily throwing on a cardigan to cover your nightgown, you stomped out of your cottage and marched over to the farmhouse fence.

“Hello!” you called out, pulling the cardigan tight across your chest. “What’s going on here—?”

The lawn mower’s engine roared even louder, drowning out your voice completely. The man continued to guide the machine in a slow, methodical line, his back still turned to you. The smell of freshly cut grass and gasoline filled the air, mingling with the… less pleasant scent of the roaming livestock.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

You stepped closer to the fence, cupping your hands around your mouth. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

He reached the end of a row and made a sharp turn, but he didn’t look up. His eyes stayed on the ground. From your spot by the fence, you watched the sun dance across his muscles as he maneuvered the heavy machine, sweat glistening on his forearms.

You waited until he drifted closer to the fence line before shouting again.

“Hey! Farmer boy!”

The mower sputtered and stalled, and finally, your voice pierced through the noise. 

He glanced up, pushing sweaty strands of hair out of his face. You stood just a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over your cardigan—the hem of your nightslip riding up ridiculously high on your thigh, your hair a mess of bed tangles and your face twisted grumpily. 

The breath left Bucky’s lungs—and it wasn’t because of the blistering sun burning his skin, or the morning’s hard labor.

It was because he had a beautiful woman standing right in front of him — a woman who was a total sight for sore eyes. 

Bucky let go of the mower, wiping his grimy hands on his stained jeans as he sauntered toward you. Meeting you at the fence, he flashed a charming smile, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling as he reached out a hand.

“Hi there, beautiful,” he greeted smoothly. “I’m Bucky.” 

You didn’t move. Your eyes followed his face, to the dirt caked between his fingers and underneath his nails, and then back at his face. 

“Beautiful?” you repeated, scrunching your face in what appears to be disgust. 

Bucky’s brows furrowed just slightly, but he didn’t let the rejection deter him. He slowly lowered his hand. 

Since he arrived early in the morning—well before the sun even rose—everyone in Pelican Town had been so kind and welcoming. Several of the folks had come by to help haul his luggage and boxes, even helping him get the chicken coop set up and the livestock moved in.

When Bucky inherited his parents’ old farm after they passed, he’d had his reservations about returning. But after those initial interactions with the townspeople, he started to think that maybe life out here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

His parents, Winnie and George, had always told him that the town they grew up in was filled with the most kindhearted people you would ever meet—a place where neighbors looked out for one another and never hesitated to lend a hand.

But now, here you were, and you wouldn’t even meet him halfway for a simple handshake.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Bucky huffed with that southern drawl he inherited from his parents. “Just callin’ it how I see it. Just as you called me ‘farmer boy.’”

You returned his petty jab with a roll of your eyes. 

“What is going on here?” you motioned to the mess surrounding him. “Is there some big renovation being done? Are you turning the farmhouse into a ranch or something? This is private land, you know.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the way your voice rose in anger just from his mere presence alone.

He rested both palms on his hips. “Why do you care?” He nodded his head toward you, prompting an answer.

You hiked a thumb over your shoulder. “Because I live right there, and all the noise you’re producing is going to be a problem.”

He glanced over your shoulder, letting out a soft hum. “Oh, so you’re my neighbor? How cute.” He looked back at you, a playful gleam dancing in his blue eyes. “You’re also the woman who’s been crossing the fence—snappin’ pictures of my trees and layin’ in my grass to sunbathe on my private land. Ain’t that right?”

Your shoulders tensed.

You didn’t know a thing about this man—yet he knew exactly what you had been up to before he took over the farm. You shifted on your feet awkwardly and defensively. 

“H-how do you know that—?”

“It’s a small town, darlin’. And Marnie was tellin’ me all about it while she was helpin’ me with the chickens.” Bucky crossed his arms, his grin widening once he realized he’d won this little back and forth with you. “Wasn’t too happy when I first heard about it—but after findin’ out it was a pretty girl trespassin’, well, I don’t mind it one bit.”

Bucky watched as you purposefully avoided eye contact, your face scrunching in either embarrassment or pride—he couldn’t quite tell which.

“The people who owned this farmhouse left several years ago, even before I moved here. Their names were Winnie and George—”

“My parents,” Bucky interrupted, pointing a thumb at his chest. “I’m their son.”

Your eyes widened. 

Living in a small town, you heard plenty of stories about the people who lived here now and those who had long ago. It hadn’t taken long for you to learn about Winnie and George—the married couple who once called Pelican Town home. They had a massive arrangement of animals and livestock, always hosting parties and events on their land.

When Winnie got pregnant, they had moved across the country to give their son a “better life.”

But apparently, that country charm couldn't keep them away forever, because their son was back. And based on the looks of it, he was here to stay for good. 

You blinked, the name finally clicking. “Y-you’re James?”

“Sounds pretty comin’ off your lips.”

Agitation boiled in your blood as you stared back at his handsomely smug face. You couldn’t believe this was who you had to deal with now.

“Wow,” you drawled sarcastically, glaring him down. “Are you always this charming?”

“For you? I can be.” Bucky motioned to the rest of the farm with a sweeping gesture. “And you better get used to it—because I’m goin’ to be livin’ here from now on, right next to that cute little cottage of yours.”

Your jaw hung once his words registered in your mind.

Living here? That meant you had to deal with all the animals, the loud lawn mower, and that awful stench. 

That also meant no more sunbathing in the wide, open grass. No more pictures of the trees and flowers that grew in Winnie and George’s yard—the ones you were planning on making a scrapbook of.

“Any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum?” you huffed, trying to smooth over your agitation.

Bucky saw right through you, and his grin only grew wider because of it. “What? A little noise is already ruinin’ your beauty sleep?”

And most importantly, it meant dealing with a dirty, farm boy neighbor who didn’t seem to care at all about being neighborly, or your own well being.

You were about to snap something snarky back, but he was already revving the mower's engine, not even looking your way anymore.

“Look, princess,” he shouted over the noise. “If you want to keep takin’ your silly pictures for your social media or sunbathin’ on my lawn, by all means.”

Social media? 

What kind of woman did this man think you were? 

He finally looked up at you again, flashing another one of those charming smiles.

“Just be careful not to step in pig shit.”

Since then, you and Bucky had been stuck in a constant back and forth. 

Every morning, you woke to the sound of chickens squawking at the top of their lungs, followed immediately by the pungent scent of pig shit drifting through your window.

You complained to Bucky several times, but he always just wiped the sweat from his forehead and shrugged. “Guess I’ve gotten used to the smell. Doesn’t bother me none. Just light some incense and call it a day, would ya?”

On weekends, you would hang your damp laundry to dry in the sun, only for Bucky to decide that was the perfect time to leaf blow his gravel path. He would send a cloud of dust, dried hay, and dirt straight into your damp, clean dresses.

When you stomped out of the house in a rage, Bucky would just grin, nodding toward your laundry line and the pink lace that were strung up on it.

“Cute panties.”

Then out of sheer embarrassment, you would retreat back into your cottage without uttering a single word in defeat. 

The breaking point came one evening when you were walking home from an errand run in town. One of Bucky’s goddamn cows had drifted astray and was currently munching on the sunflowers poking through your fences. You could put up with a lot of things, sure, but your precious flowers were where you drew the line.

You dropped your grocery bags on the porch and marched to the fence, your blood pressure spiking with every petal that vanished into that cow’s mouth.

“Hey, stop that! Shoo!” You flapped your arms wildly, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “Go on! Get back to your own side!”

The cow didn’t react. She simply blinked her long lashes at you, a half eaten sunflower stem hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. When you stepped closer to give her a firm nudge, she didn’t retreat. The cow let out a hum of what sounds like appreciation, leaning her massive head into your shoulder and nearly knocking you backward.

She wasn’t scared of you at all. 

She was smitten. 

“No! No cuddles! You’re a trespasser!” you hissed, trying to shove the heavy beast back toward the fence.

The cow responded by letting out a long, wet lick that started at your wrist and ended at your elbow. You shivered at the contact—you had just showered!

A low, gravelly chuckle erupted from the farmhouse porch, a sound you hadn’t heard over your own frantic shooing. 

Bucky was leaning against the railing with a half peeled orange in his hand, a smug little smile tugging at his lips. He was enjoying this.

“Well, look at that,” he called out, his grin reaching his eyes. “Seems like my Bessie’s got a taste of my neighbor. I’m jealous.”

“Bucky, get your cow!” you shouted, trying to wipe the cow slobber off your arm. “She’s eating my sunflowers! These were for the festival!”

Rather than rushing to your rescue, Bucky took a bite of the citrus, juices spilling over his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as his dirty boots stomped down the wooden steps, until he finally met you at the fence.

“Bessie ain’t doin’ any harm. She’s a good girl, ain’t she?” He smiled mid chew, his hand coming up to pet Bessie’s head as he started talking to the cow instead of you. “You got a good lick outta’ her, right? Is she as sweet as she looks?”

Your eyes went wide at the blatant comment. You scoffed, trying to ignore the sudden, drastic spike in your heartbeat.

“You need to take better care of your damn animals, Bucky.” 

Bucky exagerrated a frown, tilting his head as he played stupid. “I take plenty of care over my sweet Bessie.” 

You crossed your arms, glaring him down. “I mean keeping your animals on your property and leaving mine alone.” 

“But Bessie didn’t even cross your fence.” 

“She’s eating my sunflowers!” you reminded him, motioning dramatically toward your mangled plants.

Bucky snickered at your little outburst. He didn’t know what it was, but seeing you riled up over something as small as sunflowers was far too entertaining. Maybe it was the constant scent of soil and manure messing with his head, but his short yet frequent interactions with you had been more interesting than anything else in town since he had moved in.

“Alright, Bessie,” Bucky cooed to the cow. 

He kept one hand on her head, gently urging her away from your garden. He gestured toward the mangled stems. “What’s this festival you’re savin’ these flowers for, anyway?”

“The Flower Dance,” you said, your brows furrowed as if he already should have known the answer.

“Explain it to me, princess.”

You ignored the pet name. “Every year in the spring, the town hosts a dance in the center of the square. The whole place is decorated with colorful banners and flowers, and Gus sets up a buffet spread of homemade food.”

Bucky rubbed his chin, looking amused. “And there’s dancin’, I presume?”

“Lots of it,” you continued. “People partner up for a waltz. The girls show up in nice dresses and flower crowns.”

“And what about the men?”

Your eyes raked over Bucky—taking in the dirt caked on his boots and the fresh scuffs on his jeans. “Still average looking, at best.”

It seemed no matter how many insults you hurled at him, he remained entirely unfazed. His smile only grew wider as he stepped closer, leaning over the fence until you were nearly nose to nose.

“So,” he drawled, voice growing deeper. “Do you have a partner?”

You blinked, thrown off guard by the question. “Excuse me?”

Bucky’s posture shifted slightly. He looked down, dragging a calloused finger along the top rail of your fence, tracing the grain of the wood as he searched for the right words. From where you stood, you could tell he was trying to maintain that ‘cool guy’ exterior, but his faint, boyish smile gave him away.

He shrugged casually, though he still didn’t meet your eyes.

“Well... I was just wonderin’...” he started. “Since I’m new in town and all, maybe you could show me the ropes of this ‘flower dance’ thing. Seems like a lot for a guy to take in on his own.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

“Sounds like you already got it all figured out,” he said, finally looking up. That smug smile returned to the corners of his mouth. “And a guy like me... well, it’d be a dream to take a woman like you.”

You let out a short, scoffing laugh. 

He had been taunting and poking fun at you since the day he moved in—and now he was inviting you to be his partner for the Flower Dance?

Was he pulling your leg?

Instead of entertaining him, you just rolled your eyes and turned back toward your house. 

“Very funny.” 

As you gathered the groceries from your steps, you added without looking over your shoulder, “Control your animals, Barnes.”

It was like Bucky was trying to get back at you for rejecting his invitation to the Flower Dance—because from that day onward, he had been nothing but an aggravating pest lingering just outside your cottage.

Instead of being a slighty annoying and impractical neighbor, Bucky took your rejection with a tip of his hat and a doubled effort to be the most inconvenient man alive. 

He started a ‘fence repair’ project that involved loud hammering at six in the morning—shirtless. When you stomped out of your house in a rage, he only grinned. 

“Sorry, sweets. But the world doesn’t stop movin’ just ‘cause a pretty girl wants to get some sleep.”

You retaliated by accidentally spraying your hose at his freshly painted fence before it had a chance to dry, followed by a fake giggle and a chirpy “oops!”

This relentless back and forth went on and on, until you found yourself pinned beneath your grandmother’s heirloom vanity on an unfortunate Friday afternoon—the day right before the Flower Dance festival.

This vanity was the one piece of furniture that had survived the move to Pelican Town, and the one thing you were trying to preserve. 

While you were trying to shimmy it away from a leaky pipe in the wall, the antique wood groaned. With a suspicious sounding crack that made your heart drop, the back leg snapped, and the entire heavy structure tilted, the vanity’s ornate mirror swinging dangerously toward the floor.

You caught it just in time, wincing as your shoulder braced roughly against the heavy wood, but you were pinned. 

If you moved, the mirror would shatter and the delicate wood would splinter beyond repair.

In that moment, you didn’t know what was worse—being pinned beneath a very heavy, very important vanity, or the fact that your window was propped open and the only man in sight who could help you was none other than Bucky fucking Barnes.

“Bucky!” you shouted toward the window.

He heard you—you knew it—because as he closed the mailbox, he gave a subtle glance over his shoulder before pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. He went right back to sorting through his mail.

“Bills, bills, bills,” Bucky clicked his tongue, loud enough for you to hear. He shook his head. “More bills.”

“Bucky, get over here!” you shouted louder, trying to shift your feet, but the movement only made the vanity creak ominously. “I need your help!”

Bucky finally turned around, that stupid, smug smile tugging at his lips at the sight of your struggle.

“You sure about that?” he taunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know—you look pretty strong to me. I didn’t expect that kind of muscle out of a girl like you.”

“I’m being serious, Bucky—!” you gasped, the wood sliding through your sweaty palms. You tried adjusting your feet again, but your sandals gave little to no traction against the wooden floor. “It’s going to—it’s slipping!”

As you scrambled to fix your grip, the vanity slipped straight through your fingers. You shrieked, jumping to the side just in time to avoid having your feet crushed as the heavy furniture crashed to the ground.

The impact made the entire house shake. Shards of glass exploded, skidding across the floor like ice as pieces of the wood on the vanity splintered off.

Bucky, who had been taunting you just seconds ago, was already moving toward your door before you could even notice.

“Shit, shit,” he cursed under his breath. He shoved the front door open, barging through and tossing his mail aside.

“Fuck—are you okay?” Bucky rushed to your side, crouching beside you. His warm hands found your shoulders as he gently pried you away from the broken glass.

The worried tone in his voice went in one of your ears and out the other. All you could do was stare at the wreckage before you, the glass scattered everywhere a clear testament to how shattered you felt inside.

“That… that was my grandmother’s,” you said with a shaky breath. “It’s the last thing I have of hers.”

Bucky stood beside you, sensing the tension in your shoulders as his teeth caught his bottom lip. You could feel the guilt coming off him for not helping you sooner.

Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your eyes wide in disbelief. Bucky looked like he was bracing himself for a round of yelling—a smart move on his part.

“I asked you for help,” you started, voice trembling as the rage began to boil in your blood. “I asked you for help, Bucky! And all you did was stand there and watch me struggle!”

You stepped closer, the soles of your sandals crunching against the glass as you shoved a finger into his chest. “You’re an asshole, Bucky. You’ve been a pest and a jerk since the second you moved in, and now the one thing that’s actually important to me is broken because you wanted to play some stupid game!”

Bucky could only stare at you completely wide eyed, as the angry shakiness in your voice softened into something more broken and small. 

Your face—once scrunched in a pissed off snarl—gave way to a slight wobble in your bottom lip that Bucky caught immediately.

Maybe he should’ve retorted. He should’ve told you it wasn’t entirely his fault. But the way the tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over any second, made his heart ache in ways he didn’t want to admit.

Before you could shove him a second time, his large, calloused hands came up, gently catching your wrist.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “Stop. Don’t move. You’re gonna cut your feet,” he warned, looking down at your sandals.

“What—?”

“Here.” Bucky’s hands nudged your shoulders, guiding you to the edge of your bed slowly and carefully. “Just stay here, okay?” he murmured, crouching in front of you until he was at eye level. His eyes bored into yours, a small attempt to soothe your panic. “Don’t move an inch until I get the glass up. I’m goin’ to get my kit. I have the tools to fix this.”

“You can’t fix this, Bucky,” you choked out, wiping a tear away with the back of your hand. “The wood snapped. The mirror is in a million pieces.”

Bucky reached out, his thumb catching the tear that you missed to wipe. 

“I can,” he said, and for once, there wasn’t a trace of smugness in his tone. “I’ve got some aged mahogany in the barn that’ll match this grain near perfect. And I know a guy in town who can cut a new glass plate by morning.”

He stood up, looking down at the broken glass and then back at you. “I’m sorry, princess. I really am. I’ll make it right. Just stay put.”

For the first time, princess didn’t sound like a condescending, backhanded compliment. 

So, you obeyed. 

You sat on the edge of your mattress, sandals discarded on the floor and bare feet tucked safely away from the danger zone as you watched Bucky go to work. He was meticulous, sweeping your broom across the wood to make sure not a single drop of glass was left behind on the floorboards.

Once the floor was clear, he kept his focus on the broken leg and the empty, ragged frame where the mirror used to be.

“This vanity must be important to you, huh?”

You kept your eyes down, picking at the fabric of your quilt. “I’m not really in the mood for your taunts, Barnes.”

“Hey,” he huffed, glancing up at you. “I’m not tryin’ to play at you, darlin’. I promise.” He frowned, his tone softening as he took in the saddened expression on your face. 

“I know what it’s like, tryin’ to preserve an heirloom. My parents—” he swallowed hard, keeping a brave face just for you, “a lot of the stuff they gave me didn’t make the move back to Pelican Town. Which is ironic, ‘cause this was their home from the very beginning, you know? It could’ve been just fine if they kept their stuff here.”

You blinked, sniffling as you looked at him. Aside from that slight glimpse of vulnerability when he’d asked you to the festival, this was the most he had ever shared about himself.

“I’m so sorry,” you said sympathetically, not really knowing what else to offer him in a moment like this.

Bucky offered a small, weary smile. 

“Don’t be,” he groaned slightly as he knelt back down, opening the drawers of the vanity to carefully remove your belongings so he could get started on the repairs. “What’s all this?”

He started pulling out various bottles and products—makeup brushes and perfumes that looked far too expensive and meticulous for a girl to be bothered with in a town like this.

“Well, look at that,” Bucky let out a low whistle, turning a tube of designer lipstick over in his calloused palm. “What is this? Chanel? Dior?” He glanced up at you, that same spark returning to his eyes, though it was softer now—less of a bite and more of a tease. “Always wondered how a farm girl kept lookin’ like she just stepped off a runway in Zuzu City.”

“What’s wrong with a girl wanting to look her best?” you scoffed, feeling a little embarrassed. 

Bucky grinned at the sound of you finally getting your spark back.

He reached back into the vanity, pulling out a small scrapbook. As he moved it, a handful of photographs slipped from between the pages and fluttered onto the floor.

Your eyes flew wide as the photographs hit the floor—some of them landing face up, while others landed face down.

You scrambled off the bed, trying to snatch the photos, but Bucky was already sweeping them up. He stood, holding them high and well out of your reach.

“Wait—don’t!”

“Oh?” Bucky’s brow arched, as he playfully tilted his head at you. “What do we have here?”

“Bucky, stop playing around! Give them to me—!”

Bucky’s arm stayed locked high above his head, a deep chuckle vibrating in his chest as he flipped through the pages. The first few were random blurbs—bits of a poetry phase you had gone through that had lasted all of a week.

“Roses are red, violets are blue—? You write poetry?” he questioned, making your face burn with embarrassment.

“It was a phase! Just shut up and hand it over—”

He ignored you, continuing to flip through the book until his expression suddenly softened. His thumb brushed over the edge of a Polaroid taped to one of the pages with pink, polka-dotted washi tape.

“This is…” he breathed, his voice trailing off as he took in the photo of the apricot tree on his own lawn. He stared at the way the sun peaked through the branches, highlighting the orangey-pink fruit. “The tree on my lawn—my mom’s apricot tree. She grew that from a sapling.”

He continued flipping through the pages, his blue eyes trailing over each one carefully. He took in the way you arranged the different prints—candid shots of the townsfolk, the horses at Marnie’s farm, colorful cocktails from Gus’s saloon, and flowers. Lots of them. Flowers he recognized from both your lawn and his.

“You know… when the people in town mentioned you were a photographer, I just assumed you were an influencer,” he admitted. He gave you a lopsided grin, his gaze dropping back to the book. “Some… social media vermin.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and raising a brow. “A vermin?”

Bucky grinned. “Yeah—I mean, you’re a good lookin’ woman, with all your fancy designer clothes and stuff—” he waved his free hand while the other held the book aloft. “I figured you’d be into all the selfies and modelin’ crap.”

“Well,” you huffed, trying to mask your bashfulness. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Disappointment is the farthest thing from what I’m feelin’, little doll,” he mused. He took in the photographs and the various little doodles of flowers in the corners of the pages, tucked neatly around the polaroids. “These are beautiful.”

You boasted about plenty of things—the clothes you wore, the bags you carried, the way you styled your hair. But photography and scrapbooking were more personal. It was the hobby that had helped you during the transition from the city to the farm. Some might deem it corny, but away from the expectations of social media—where strangers were updated through sugar-coated photos on a digital screen—you had turned photography into something private. Something more you.

“I…” you started, struggling to handle the look of adoration on Bucky’s face. “Thank you, Bucky. That’s very sweet of you.”

After taking in every page, he closed the scrapbook and handed it back. His attention shifted to the glossy prints dangling from his fingers, and he began sorting through them with a boyish grin.

“And these are the photos you’re goin’ to add to the book later, I take it—?”

Bucky stopped short the second his eyes landed on the next shot. Most were the same snaps of trees and the town, but there was one that made his breath hitch and his pants suddenly tight.

“It’s a little project I’m working on,” you explained, completely clueless and still a bit bashful. “A page dedicated to the different seasons. The trees are always changing, and the town looks completely different from spring to winter.”

Bucky stayed quiet, his shoulders tensing as his eyes remained glued to the photograph. He cleared his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing.

“I… see,” he said, his voice suddenly low and raspy.

Your brows furrowed. You couldn’t understand why he was so focused on that photo specifically. Curiosity getting the best of you, you tilted your head to peek at what he was looking at—and your heart dropped into your stomach.

Staring back at you was a selfie you had taken on your instant camera. You were sprawled across your bed, hair fanned out across the pillows. Your chest was exposed bare, one arm draped over your breasts, though if someone looked close enough, they could see the shaded curve of an areola peeking just past your forearm. Your body was angled to accentuate your curves, revealing the soft skin of your thighs and hips in nothing but a pair of lace panties.

Face burning a million degrees, you snatched the photo out of Bucky’s hands. 

“Don’t look at that!” you shrieked, spinning away from him.

All Bucky could do was stand there—frozen, bewildered, and hard as fuck. 

He could hear your frantic heartbeat from where he stood. And with your back turned, it was painfully obvious you didn’t want to talk about it.

“Right. Sorry,” he cleared his throat again, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. He turned toward the door. “I’m gonna—uh, grab my tools and start workin’ on this vanity, okay? I’ll be back!”

Before you could say a word, his boots were already rushing out the door. 

He eventually returned with his tools and set to work on the vanity. While he worked, you tried to keep yourself busy, maintaining a respectful distance at all times.

From your open bedroom door, where he was crouched on the floor, Bucky still had a clear view of you in the kitchen making lemonade. You told him it was your way of saying “thank you,” but he knew the truth. 

You were just trying to put as much space between you as possible after that photo.

But right now, the last thing he wanted was for you to be far away.

That image of you was scorched into the back of his mind, taking up permanent residence. Laid completely bare, hair fanned out, wearing nothing but those lace panties and an expression that screamed, “fuck me, Bucky!” — it was enough to drive him crazy.

As he watched you move around the kitchen in the little sundress that had made his mouth water the first day he laid eyes on you, a million thoughts raced through his mind just as fast as the blood was rushing to his dick. 

Why had you taken a picture like that? 

Who was it for? 

Was there someone you were dating—someone you were sending those prints to?

Suddenly, a bitter spike of jealousy flared in his gut. The idea of you taking photos like that just to mail them off to some soft handed city boy prick made him want to burn the whole town down. His movements grew jerky and annoyed as he worked. The wood felt awkward in his grip, and his tools kept slipping.

“Shit,” he cursed, grabbing your attention. 

You glanced over your shoulder, a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade in your hand. “Everything okay? Need any help?”

“Just peachy,” Bucky mumbled.

As he heard your footsteps drawing closer, he tried to adjust himself, willing away the erection that was vulgarly pressing through his pants.

“Why don’t you take a break and have some lemonade, then?” You held the glass out to him, a small smile tugging at your glossy lips—a view that didn’t help Bucky’s situation in the slightest. “Before the ice melts.”

Bucky’s gaze traveled from your lips down to your hands. They were pretty—small and soft as they curled around the tall glass. Even your fingertips were perfectly manicured.

You were being far too kind, offering him a drink while he crouched there on your floor, his mind dark and filthy as he imagined how those fingers would look slicked with his cum instead of condensation.

“Sure,” Bucky grunted, straining as he stood up. “A lemonade sounds good.” 

The two of you stepped out onto the front porch for some fresh air, taking in the way the sun poked through the branches. Next door, the chickens were squawking and the birds chirping, but the domestic sounds did nothing to help the awkward silence between you.

You kept your gaze straight ahead on the grass and flowers, but you could feel Bucky’s stare lingering on the side of your face.

“So…” he started, and you mentally braced yourself for whatever was coming next. “That photo—”

“Oh, God,” you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut out of embarrassment. “Don’t start.”

Bucky raised his glass, letting out a huff of a laugh—though it didn’t sound humorous at all. It was just filler noise to cover his nerves.

“Well—it’s, uh... it’s a good picture,” he mumbled, staring at the ice cubes melting in his glass. “You look good in it.”

You felt like you wanted to shrivel up and let the wind carry you away. You avoided his gaze, turning your head to hide your burning cheeks. “You’re such an idiot.”

“All I’m sayin’ is,” he continued, mumbling even quieter as that jealousy bled through his voice,“whoever is gettin’ those kind of photos from you is a lucky man.”

You blinked, finally glancing at him. 

“Lucky man?” You noticed the way his cheeks were flushed pink. “There is no man.”

Bucky froze with the glass halfway to his lips, his blue eyes snapping to yours. “No man?” he repeated, like he needed the reassurance.

“No,” you shrugged casually, giving him a small smile. “I just take those photos for myself. I spent years worried about how other people perceived me. When I moved here, I wanted to see myself for me. It makes me feel confident. Seeing myself like that is kind of empowering, you know? It’s for my eyes only.”

You let out a shaky breath, the embarrassment still very much there—but no longer because you were seen half naked. Now, it was because of how corny your explanation sounded out loud. 

You glanced at Bucky out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his reaction, but he looked so deep in thought that you couldn’t make out a single one.

“For your eyes only, huh?” Bucky hummed.

When you gave him that little nod, Bucky knew he was doomed.

The jealousy that had been sitting like a pit in his stomach was drowned out in a damned instant the minute you said ‘no man.’ That meant he was the only one who saw that photo of you—that sweet, vulnerable side where you laid bare, warm and inviting. Bucky loved the fact that there was no man, and no one else after you.

To him, that just meant you were already his.

“Go to the Flower Dance with me,” he asked suddenly.

You huffed a lighthearted laugh. “This again?”

Bucky turned to face you fully now, eyes boring into yours so intently it was like he was giving you a silent warning not to even bother looking away. 

“Let me take you to the Flower Dance. Let me be your partner. Let me dance with you.”

“Bucky, you can’t be serious—”

“I was serious the first time I asked you, and I’m even more so now,” he said, his brows furrowing as his voice deepened. “Dance with me.”

You bit your lip, hesitating.

When he noticed your silence, he stepped closer, standing over you until he was looking down at you completely.

“Consider it a thank you for fixin’ up your vanity.”

“Thank you? You made me struggle and didn’t help me the first time!” you countered, but Bucky didn’t budge. He didn’t fight back or laugh.

He was dead serious.

He wanted you to go to the Flower Dance with him as your date—and you had a very strong feeling he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Fine,” you reluctantly agreed, despite a smile tugging at your lips. “But just remember—it’s a thank you for fixing my vanity.”

Bucky grinned, finding himself very, very happy with your response.

To you, agreeing to the Flower Dance was just a fair trade—a thank you for his labor and a way to settle the score over your grandmother’s vanity.

But as Bucky watched you walk back into the house, his hand drifted to his pocket, letting his fingers brush gently against the glossy edge of the photograph—your photograph— tucked deep inside. 

Having that naked, intimate piece of you hidden away against his thigh—a secret kept just for him—was a reward far better than anything else you could have given him.

He knew he was being greedy by stealing the photo and taking you to the Flower Dance, but he didn’t care. The photo was enough to drive him crazy tonight, but dancing with you tomorrow was the cherry on top.

It was Saturday morning—the day of the Flower Dance—and Bucky had been restless since dawn, and even more so the night before.

He lost track of how many times he had jerked off since he stole that photo. One time was right after he finished fixing your vanity. He had retreated to his farmhouse, slammed the door shut, and before he even kicked off his boots, he had his pants unzipped and cock in hand.

Another time was in the shower, then again right before he fell asleep, and… once or twice more as the clock ticked closer to the start of the festival.

It was shameless, almost pathetic, but when you were dealing with animals and manual labor all day, you had to relieve the stress somehow. And nothing relieved it quite like the memory of you sprawled across those pillows with those sweet tits pressed together.

As you made your way to the town square, you found yourself walking with a pep in your step. Your heels clicked against the pavement, and your sundress swayed at your hips with every stride.

You had taken lots of care to look better than usual today. You had woken up early just to have enough time for your hair and makeup, trying on three different dresses just to see which one made you look the best. You even found yourself wondering what Bucky was wearing—hoping, subconsciously, that your dress might actually match his outfit.

Fuck.

You were actually looking forward to see him and dance with him.

Your heart was beating far too fast for your chest. You could already imagine it—Bucky, finally rid of his grimy farm clothes and wearing a proper outfit, or his heavy boots stepping all over your sandals because he didn’t have a clue how to dance.

You found yourself grinning to yourself up until you made it to the bustle of the community square. Gus had his food spread out on a table beneath a canopy, potted flowers that were grown by the townsfolk were scattered about, and colorful banners were decorated across the lightpoles.

“What’s got you smilin’ to yourself for?” a familiar, deep gravelly voice interrupted you, stopping you in your tracks.

It was Bucky, wearing a nicely ironed button up tucked into his khaki pants that were held up by a nice, brown leather belt. Your smile faltered slightly—not because he looked terrible, but because he looked good.

Too fucking good.

He tilted his head, hands tucked deep into his pockets. “Hey, where did that smile go?”

“I… nothing,” you cleared your throat, hands primly behind your back as you took him in. “You look… good.”

You suddenly felt small as you watched Bucky’s eyes trace over you—taking in the way you did your hair and your makeup, down to the short hem of your dress. You watched as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

“That might’ve been the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he joked before nodding to you. “You look beautiful.” He glanced around before taking a step closer, leaning down so only you could hear. “Kind of makes me a bit jealous knowin’ other people can see how pretty you are.”

Your face warmed, and Bucky expected you to back away from his boldness—but you stepped closer, batting your lashes at him in a way that drove him fucking crazy.

“Yeah, but they’re not the ones dancing with me, are they?”

With all the pent up frustration building inside him, that little taunt of yours felt like an open invitation to grab you and do whatever he wanted.

But instead, his tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned, amused by your comment. He extended a hand toward you.

“The dance is ’bouta start soon. Come on.”

Despite this being his first time ever experiencing a Flower Dance, he took initiative as if he had been doing this longer than you had. The live band propped up on the stage began to play, the acoustic guitars picking the same catchy tune you knew by heart from all the years you had attended before. 

Women and men gathered hand in hand to get into position. Bucky led you to the very center of the crowd, standing tall in front of you. He guided your hand to his shoulder before resting his own large palm firmly against your hip. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden burst of confidence. “Wow, Bucky Barnes. Don’t tell me you actually know how to dance?”

“Course I do,” he huffed. “Just ‘cause I’m covered in dirt all day doesn’t mean I don’t know how to take a lady for a dance. Don’t sound so surprised.”

He pulled you in closer, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide and soft with a sheepish smile to match.

“You wouldn’t let me fall, right?” you teased, your voice barely sounding over the guitars.

“Never,” he promised, his grip on your waist tightening to prove it to you. “Not a single speck of dirt on that pretty little head of yours. I’ve got you.”

The music started, and as you two danced, you noticed how Bucky was pulling you closer and closer with each step. 

His hand stayed tight at your waist before moving to your lower back, then back to your hips with a small, firm squeeze. The hand that held yours gripped tighter, reeling you in even more with every move.

As he spun you back into his chest, you felt the hitch in his breathing. You leaned back slightly, looking up at him. 

“You okay, Bucky?” you teased with a smile. “You’re looking a little... stiff.”

God, those eyes and those glossy fucking lips.

Bucky let out a visible shudder before forcing a nod. “Dancin’ with a very pretty girl in my arms—it’s natural for me to be a little nervous, isn’t it?”

He spun you again, your short sundress flaring out like a ballerina—and he caught a quick glimpse of your bare thigh. Just barely. He wanted more.

He drew you in until your forehead was resting against his collarbone. He leaned his head down, his nose grazing the skin of your temple as he took a deep, shaky inhale of your scent—shampoo, vanilla, and the warmth of your skin from the sunlight. You smelled so good, and each inhale was doing serious damage to his self-control.

From his height, his gaze fell directly into the neckline of your dress. He had a direct, unobstructed view of the swell of your breasts, the fabric of your sundress moving against your curves with every breath you took. 

It was the photograph come to life, only now he could actually touch you… just not in the complete ways he wanted to. 

His hand on your back slid lower, his palms suddenly clammy as he pressed your hips tight against his. You gasped softly, your step faltering for a split second as you felt him.

A thick, heavy, warm bulge was straining against his khakis, pressing right into the notch of your thighs.

Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, his eyes were somewhere over your shoulder as he tried to maintain a shred of dignity. He thought he was being subtle—that you were too caught up in the festival to notice how inappropriately turned on he was.

He was wrong.

Deciding to play a much dirtier game, you took matters into your own hands. He spun you around again, but instead of facing him, you tucked yourself right back into the curve of his body. 

Your back hit his chest, and your ass ground firmly against his cock.

Bucky let out a shuddering groan that tickled against the back of your neck as he felt the curve of your ass press harder into his bulge. 

Before he could even think about pulling away to save face, you reached over and grabbed his hands. Your fingers slid over his knuckles, guiding his large, calloused palms down until they were over your hips. You kept your hands over his, forcing him to feel the way your curves fit perfectly against his body.

“Shit,” he cursed, and you grinned.

Everyone else was too preoccupied with their own dancing to even notice Bucky’s predicament, so you continued swaying your hips against him to the music. 

Every rub of your ass against his cock was like adding oil to the flames. Bucky’s nose nuzzled the side of your head, and you could hear his breathing get more labored the more you ground against him.

“Still nervous you’re dancing with a pretty girl?” you taunted. You felt him twitch against you in response.

He groaned, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel his hot breath. “You know exactly what you’re doin’.” 

“And what exactly am I doing, Bucky?”

“You’re bein’ a goddamn tease.”

Your smile grew wider. “But you’re not exactly pushing me away, are you?”

His grip on your hips tightened enough to bunch the fabric of your dress around your waist. He hiked the skirt up higher, his hot palms gliding just beneath the hem to tickle your outer thighs — then higher, towards the sensitive skin of your inner leg.

You gasped softly when you felt his thumb graze against your clothed cunt. 

“Keep tauntin’ me,” he growled against your ear, “and I’m goin’ to flip up this tiny skirt and fuck you right here in the middle of the square—where everyone can see.”

Your eyes traced over the crowd. Everyone was all smiles, too caught up in the joy of the festival to even notice the two perverts feeling each other up in the middle of it all.

“Then do it,” you challenged.

“You goddamn slut.” Bucky huffed a laugh against the back of your neck— no humor in it at all. “No. I’m too jealous for that. I wouldn’t want anyone else seein’ my girl like that.”

Your breath hitched. His girl?

“That’s funny.” You looked up over your shoulder at him, your eyes wide as you faked your innocence. “I don’t remember ever being your girl.”

Bucky’s cock twitched hard against your ass, and you knew right then that you won.

“Not my girl?” Bucky scoffed, spinning you around so you were forced to look him in the eye.

“You’ve been my girl from the minute I stepped foot back in Pelican Town. From the moment I laid eyes on you—I’d already decided you were mine. And you agreeing to dance with me today just confirmed it all.”

He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel his heavy bulge press against your inner thigh.

“If you don’t believe you’re my girl, then I’m just gonna have to prove it to you.”

You weren’t able to get a single word in as Bucky’s hand wrapped tight around yours. 

He led you away from the crowd, pushing through with polite and gentle ‘excuse me’s that went completely against how roughly he was holding you.

He took you towards the shadows at the side of the saloon.

It was a narrow, unassuming alley, hidden from the main square by overgrown shrubbery and stacked wooden crates.

“Bucky,” you looked around breathlessly and no one was near, “what are you doing?” 

He didn’t answer.

He shoved you back against the cool brick wall. He didn’t wait, and he didn’t waste his time asking, either. 

His hands were already at the hem of your sundress, bunching the fabric in his fists and hiking it up until the cool spring air hit your hips.

Your eyes went wide, your heart fighting against your chest as you watched him fall to his knees.

You knew you should’ve stopped him.

You should’ve told him this was inappropriate—that anyone could walk in on you two right now.

But as he knelt there, his eyes boring hungrily into your thighs and his tongue darting out to lick his lips the second his fingertips found the waistband of your panties, you couldn’t find the breath to argue. 

How could you possibly deny a predator his well-earned prey?

Bucky tugged your panties down your thighs and past your legs, tossing them aside. His hand rubbed up and down your thigh before hiking your leg over his shoulder, his hot touch making you shudder and grow even wetter as he stared at you intimately.

“God, look at you,” he groaned, palming himself. “What a fucking sight. All the men you danced with before I moved back into town didn’t get to see this side of you, did they?”

You only stared at him. When you didn’t answer, he gripped your ankle, making you wince.

“Answer me.”

“No,” you shook your head, swallowing hard. “Only you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he hummed, pleased. He leaned in, trailing soft, wet kisses along your inner thigh. “Dancin’ like a saint in front of the mayor, in front of all the townsfolk, just to be drippin’ wet for me like a goddamn whore.”

He leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive folds, making you hitch a breath. 

He looked up at you from between your legs, and you swore you could’ve melted right there at the sight of him. His eyes were completely blown out, staring at you in ways that should’ve made you afraid.

“I'm gonna taste every fuckin’ drop you made for me while you were rubbin’ that pretty ass against my cock. I’m gonna eat you until you’re beggin’ me to stop, and even then, I ain’t stoppin’.”

“Bucky… —ah!” your hand flew over your mouth once Bucky buried his face between your legs.

With your short dress bunched messily around your waist, Bucky’s tongue—hot and wet—swiped upward against your cunt, making you moan against your palm. He kept flicking his tongue up and down against the sensitive skin, and your fingers tangled into his hair, giving it a firm tug that made him groan against you.

“S-someone might... walk in on us—” a whimper broke from your lips as Bucky tilted his head, his tongue moving against your weeping cunt.

His hands slid up past your thighs to grab your ass, kneading and squeezing as he ate you out behind the saloon.

The mention of someone catching you only made his cock harder in his pants. He moaned against your slit, his tongue lapping at your juices as he licked and suckled on your sensitive pussy. The tip of his tongue found your clit again, flicking at it and leaving vulgar suckling noises in the quiet alley. 

His finger poked at your wet and vulnerable entrance, sliding in easily as he fucked your clit with his tongue.

“Oh my god, Bucky—!” you cried out.

You were shaking, your back scraping against the brick as Bucky ate you out shamelessly.

As his tongue danced on your most sensitive spots and his finger fucked you in rhythm with his mouth, your hips began to buck uncontrollably against his face, and Bucky let out a muffled growl.

“S-slow down—fuck, I’m gonna cum—” you whimpered behind your hand.

He hummed in satisfaction, the vibration making your pussy tingle as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass to hold you steady while he licked every last drop of you. Your back arched off the wall and you tried to squirm away to save face, but Bucky wouldn’t let you.

One hand stayed tight on your thigh and the other squeezed your ass, all while his face was tucked deep against your pussy, soaking in everything you had to give him.

“Fu—fuck, Bucky…” you whimpered as he slowly released your leg from his shoulder.

He leaned back on his heels, looking up at you, and the sight made your breath hitch. Bucky gave you a devilish little grin, his chin and lips gleaming with the wet sheen of your juices. 

Between his legs, his bulge was straining against his khakis—a damp spot darkening his lap where his pre-cum had soaked right through.

You looked around frantically—coast still clear—before tugging your skirt down and adjusting the straps on your shoulders. “We… we should go. The rest of the town’ll be looking for us—”

Bucky pushed himself up from the ground, his large body blocking your path as his hands went to his waist. He began to tug at the fastenings of his belt.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he rasped in a low growl. “I’m not even close to done with you.”

You swallowed hard, staring up at him as you caught your breath from your release. “Bucky, we can’t. Someone will catch us—”

“No,” Bucky hissed, unzipping his pants and tugging them down. “Not until I get to cum—you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

He stepped closer, nudging his leg between your thighs as his hands found the hem of your skirt again. His hand trailed up, dragging the fabric up around your waist as he pinned you back against the wall. 

Bucky’s hand wrapped around his shaft, and as your eyes trailed down—you let out a soft gasp.

He was big, thick, and pulsing in his hand. His tip caressed your clit, and he began jerking himself off against your warmth. He let out jagged breaths, his hand trailing down your thigh before hiking it up and over his hip.

“Ah—Bucky!” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders for support.

“Stay right here,” he commanded, his hands gripping your ass to hoist you higher against the wall. “Wrap those legs tighter.”

His cock dragged across your slit, his tip catching your entrance and making you gasp. He nudged his tip against your opening, testing the tension, and let out a shaky, ragged breath.

“So tight...” he rasped, the words sounding almost painful. “But you’re so wet for me, sweetheart. I could just slip right in.”

“Bucky, wait—you’re too big,” you whispered, your hands bracing against his shoulders.

You could already feel him stretching you, even just at the entrance. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit—and we can’t do this in public, someone is going to—”

Before you could finish, Bucky’s palm clamped firmly over your mouth to silence you. His eyes were dark, focused entirely on where your pussy hugged his tip.

“Shut up,” he hissed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I can’t wait. The sooner I fuck you, the sooner we can get outta here.”

With a slow tilt of his hips, he began sinking himself inside you. 

You let out a muffled, pitchy moan against his palm, your eyes rolling back as the sensation of him filling you made you see stars.

He was stretching you apart, claiming every inch of your body as he pushed deeper and deeper, until his hips finally pressed against yours.

He stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, his forehead dropping to rest against the crook of your neck as he let out a groan. “Fuuck, shit—”

He was so deep, his cock stretching your walls as his body pinned you so firmly to the brick that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

“There,” he growled against your skin, his hand still tight over your mouth as he watched the pleasure wash over your face. “Fits perfectly.”

Despite his words, his face was twisted and his jaw was clenched from how tightly your body was squeezing him.

As he started rocking his hips, his cock sliding in and out of your wet cunt, it took everything in him not to fuck you hard against the wall right then and there.

He knew you were still trying to adjust to his size, watching the way your face twisted as you tried to be a good girl for him.

He couldn’t believe it—the girl of his dreams, the girl from the very photograph he’d jerked off to from the night before until now—you were actually right here, taking his big cock inside your tight little pussy.

“A-are you okay?” he managed to muster, his voice rough as he stared at you with lustful, hazy eyes.

You whimpered before giving him a small, frantic nod. 

He took that as his invitation to fuck you harder.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight—can barely move.”

He started to move faster, his cock sinking deep into your pussy and pulling out before slamming back in. His grip on your thigh was tight as he held you up.

“So goddamn wet too, sweetheart.”

“B-bucky… ahh—we can’t.”

“Can’t?”

He kept folding your leg over, trying to adjust you so he could sink even deeper, but the tension in your body wouldn’t let him. The angle was awkward. The wall was too cold, and he couldn’t get deep enough to satisfy the ache in his balls.

He wanted more. 

He wanted to break you.

With a frustrated snarl, he pulled out of you roughly—the sudden loss of him making you cry out.

Before you could even catch your breath, Bucky grabbed your hips and spun you around, slamming your chest and face back against the cool brick.

“Hands on the wall,” he commanded cruely.

He bunched your sundress up around your waist, baring your ass to the cool air of the alley. He stepped back into you, his cock heavy and sprung, and grabbed your hair, tugging your head back so he could whisper against your skin.

“Since you’re so worried about someone walkin’ in,” he hissed, his hands gripping your hips so hard his fingers left marks, “I’m gonna make sure they get a real good view if they do.”

He lined himself up with your entrance again—his hot tip making you gasp.

Your cunt was still gaping from his fucking earlier, allowing him to slide in easily without much resistance this time.

As he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust, you let out a muffled cry, your fingers scraping against the wall to hold yourself up while he began to fuck you hard from behind.

“Fuck—love it when you’re screamin’ for me,” he groaned in pleasure.

Every wet slap of his balls against your ass echoed in the narrow alley. 

He reached around, one hand squeezing your breast through your dress while the other stayed buried in your hair, keeping you pinned in place.

His eyes took in the way your ass bounced against his cock, the soft flesh jiggling with every move. He lifted the hem of your skirt higher to get a better view of your smooth skin rocking against his hips.

“You know, maybe you should just come live with me,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he slammed into you again.

The thought seemed to fuel him, his thrusts getting deeper and harder. “It’d be so damn cute seein’ you walk around the house all barefoot and bred.”

What was he saying?

His filthy words felt more intense than the rough movements of his cock. He groaned, his teeth grazing your shoulder.

“That old farmhouse is big and lonely, sweetheart. Way too quiet,” he whispered. “It was my parents’ dream for me to start a family there. To have a house full of kids runnin’ around the farm, tendin’ to the animals.”

He pulled back nearly all the way out before thrusting back all the way in, making your knees buckle. 

“I think you’d look real good carryin’ the Barnes name. Real good with a belly full of my babies while I work the fields. What do you think? Think you could handle being a farm wife?”

“B-Bucky,” you huffed a nervous laugh as his cock filled you completely. “What are you saying? Don’t be—hmpf—ridiculous...”

“Oh, come on, don’t be shy now,” he teased. “You can sunbathe on my lawn and take all the pretty pictures of the trees and animals for your scrapbook.”

His tongue darted out to lick the shell of your ear, his heavy balls continuing to slap against you as his cock hit your sweet spot over and over.

“And I’ll buy you all the lingerie so you can pose all cute in front of your little camera again,” he delivered a hard thrust that made you whimper and cry. “Take those sexy photographs that I can keep—maybe you can make a scrapbook out of those, too. Just for me.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

Here you were, being treated like a total slut by Bucky Barnes out in the open, and yet the thing that made you too flustered to even form a sentence was him bringing up your photograph.

“G-god...” you stammered. “Don’t bring that up!” you hissed, overcome with embarrassment.

Bucky just chuckled. “I have that picture, you know?”

Your pussy fluttered and clenched around his cock at his words—the tightness making him groan. You snapped your head around, face flustered. 

“W-what!” you choked out. “You stole it?”

He could feel how much the idea turned you on, your body betraying your embarrassment by becoming even wetter and tighter as you realized he’d liked that photo enough to steal it for himself.

“Don’t exaggerate, doll,” he rasped, his hand tightening in your hair to pull your head back so he could see the shame written on your face. “I’ve spent all night staring at it. Staring at the way you were lookin’ at the camera, imaginin’ you were looking at me instead.”

His hips pushed against yours, forcing you to take another deep inch of his cock.

“I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve sat on the edge of my bed, jerkin’ myself off until I was shaking, just thinkin’ about what it would feel like to have the real thing under me.” 

He groaned, his pace becoming more uneven and frantic as the dirty confessions spilled from his lips.

“Every time I closed my eyes, I was picturin’ you—my own fucking neighbor—just like this. Bent over, taking every inch of me while you cried my name.”

The way you were whimpering and fluttering around his cock meant that you were enjoying every sinful confession he was blurting out.

You had already came, your body sensitive and weak, but Bucky was fucking you right through it. 

“B-Buck… I can’t—I’m sensitive—” you whined, knees wobbly. 

He tossed his head back, feeling his balls drawing tight as your pussy milked him.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, kneading your hips. “I want to cum inside. Wanna make my ma and pa proud—”

Bucky leaned down until his breath was tickling your ear again. “Please? Will you let me cum inside, sweetheart?” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I promise you—I’ll give you the good life, I’ll give it to you reaally good.”

You felt your breath get stuck in your throat. 

He was asking for permission?

Your body tightened beneath him.

You were so close from cumming beneath him a second time, and the way his hips stuttered against yours was a sign that he was just mere seconds away from filling you up.

“Been dreamin’ of fillin’ you up with my seed since I saw that dirty little picture of you. Please, sweetheart. Just give me what I want.” 

Footsteps crunching the grass sounded near you—too close—and the thrill of getting caught despite yourself made you finally let go. 

“Bucky, fuck—I’m cumming—!” you cried out, but Bucky’s hand clamped over your mouth, stifling your moans as you rocked your hips back against his cock.

You rode the orgasm out while Bucky’s face twisted in a pleasure so intense—it was damn near painful.

“Fuck. Fuck. Please, baby, I can’t—” he gasped, stilling his hips to keep from breeding you. “Please—let me cum inside—”

You couldn’t believe that for all the filthy words he was spouting earlier, how in control and dominant he was, he was still asking for permission.

“Please, fuck—can’t hold it in. You feel too good—”

“Just cum inside, Bucky!”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Bucky cried out a broken moan against the side of your neck, his hips twitching as he buried himself so deep it made your eyes roll back.

The first hot jet of his seed hit your womb, filling you so deep it made your toes curl in your heels. He gripped you tight, his whole body turning stiff as he pumped himself empty inside you.

He groaned, a long, broken sound that tickled your spine as he fought for his breath.

“God… like that—just like that… every last drop ‘til I’m empty, sweetheart.”

The footsteps outside the alley grew louder, then faded as the stranger passed by, oblivious to the vulgar scene unfolding just a few feet away.

Bucky stayed exactly where he was for a moment, his chest rising and falling against your back as he breathed your scent in. He was still twitching inside you, his cock heavy and pulsing as it leaked into your womb.

“There we go” he soothed, pushing the sweaty strands of hair away from your temples to look at you. “Lookin’ every bit of my girl.”

He kissed the temple of your forehead before slowly pulling out, the sudden loss of his warmth leaving you feeling cold and empty.

“Keep your legs together,” he murmured possessively, bringing the hem of your skirt back down to cover your slick thighs. “Not a single drop goes to waste. Keep it there ‘til it takes.”

He reached out gently, smoothing your hair and straightening the strap of your sundress until you looked at least somewhat presentable again. 

He brushed the dust from the brick off your shoulders, his eyes softening at the sight of your debaunched face. The makeup you spent so much time working on this morning was now a smeared mess of his doing. 

And somehow, to him, you looked even prettier. 

“There,” he said, wiping the stray lipstick on your chin. “Let’s get back and enjoy the rest of the festival.”

He turned to fix himself, tucking himself back in as he adjusted his jeans and buckled his belt. 

You watched him, still a little dazed and shaky legged, until he bent down to pick up your lace panties from the dirty floor of the alley. You reached out, expecting him to hand them back to you, but he didn’t.

“Lace?” he huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You were askin’ for it.” 

He folded them neatly and tucked them into his back pocket. He caught your confused look and flashed a boyish, almost innocent looking grin that looked far different from how he looked at you earlier. 

“Bucky?” 

“Right next to that precious photo I ‘stole,’” he intertwined your fingers with his, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he led you out of the alleyway. 

“For my growing collection.”

if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them! again, please be sure to check out the stardew valley inspired masterlist if you haven't already!

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