be my valentine?
summary: Bucky's been your valentine for 3 years in a row — a silly tradition, two best friends making fun of a holiday you claim to hate. This year, he's got a date...and you're left alone on his doorstep — a basket full of food and all the love you didn't know you held for him.
pairing: tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader | word count: 5.4k prompt: 'making fun of valentine's day but celebrating it anyway' as part of the dear my darling reader event! thank you for organising such a fun event @salty-tang warnings: angst with a happy ending, feelings of loneliness and rejection, alcohol use, themes of trauma/trauma bonding, mentions of nightmares, insecurity and slight disassociation during sex (fwb dynamic), jealousy, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f. receiving), fingering a/n: this is dedicated to the lovely @dei-dreamz 💞 so excited for you to read it! I hope it hits the angst you were looking for! i know the timelines don't make sense canonically (please go with it 🙈)
masterlist
February 14th 2023
“Oh my god, why do people do that?” Your face screws up — half amused, half disgusted — at the couple making out on the park bench, practically dry humping.
“What? You’re saying you wouldn’t want a little dry hump in the park for Valentine’s day, hmm? Not romantic enough for you?” Bucky pokes your side, moving to place his hands on either side of your face like he’s going to kiss you.
“Buckyyy, stop!” You swat at his hands, pulling away from him.
“No, huh? You more of a flowers and chocolate, fancy dates kinda girl?” He laughs.
“It doesn’t need to be fancy. It’s about the effort.” You roll your eyes, punctuating your words.
“Noted, going to have to step up my game next year.” He smirks, looking away and you have to try not to blush.
You and Bucky were on a “date”. The idea had come up the night before — the two of you sitting on the floor of his apartment, grumbling about Valentine’s Day and what a stupid holiday it is.
“Ughh, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. I swear it’s so stupid.” You stuff popcorn into your mouth, rolling your eyes.
A small piece gets stuck in your throat and Bucky rubs his hand up and down your back, patting it softly. You ignore the way warmth spreads up your spine, making your head feel slightly fuzzy.
“I know, everything is covered in pink and flowers. Like why do people need a day to show that they love someone?” Bucky takes a swig of his beer, shaking his head with a grunt, but you catch the tiny glint in his eyes, the way his voice catches on the word ‘love’.
“Yeah I mean, I guess it kind of just reminds me that I don’t have one as well and I hate that feeling.” Your hands twist in your sleeves, avoiding Bucky’s eyes as your mouth fills with regret at the words that had just left it.
“One what?” Bucky asks stupidly.
You turn to give him a look that says really? before letting out, barely above a whisper, “A valentine. A boyfriend? I don’t know, it’s stupid.”
You weren’t unhappy with your life. Weren’t desperate for a boyfriend. You liked your friends, your time, your dogs. But sometimes, just sometimes, there’s a little itch of loneliness that you can’t quite scratch.
A little space you don't quite know how to fill. The part of you that wants a partner. Someone to make you coffee in the morning. Someone to call and talk about all the random parts of your day. Someone to come home to and wake up to and to lean on when things get too much.
But more than that. The part of you that wants Bucky.
Your best friend.
The way he rarely smiles but when he does, it’s at you, for you and your heart gives a stupid tug because how could it not?
The way he’s always had your back — through Hydra, through all the nights you’d woken up screaming, not knowing where or who you were. The way he understands you in a way no one else does. The way he listens to you — does anything to make you happy.
Bucky sucks his teeth, before clapping his hands, startling you.
“Hey, why don’t you be my valentine? I’ll take you out tomorrow.”
“I don’t need a pity date, thank you Bucky.” You roll your eyes, picking up the popcorn bowl and moving it to the counter — more an excuse to move away from his intense gaze than anything else.
“Come onnn, it’ll be fun, we can make fun of all the goofy, sappy couples we see.” Bucky tugs at your hand, his face like a little puppy and you can’t say no.
February 14th 2024
Bucky’s set up a projector screen in his apartment, fairy lights hung around the room, all your favorite movies laid out and a tray full of your favorite snacks.
You have to remind yourself that it’s a joke.
It wasn’t a real date.
But you can’t help the way your heart stutters when he calls you baby. Or the way your breath hitches in your throat when he reaches over and wipes chocolate off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.
Or the way your heart beats out of your chest when his hand brushes yours, pinky hooking over yours just slightly.
And when Bucky pulls a blanket over you before you even register that you’re cold, placing it over you like you’re something sacred — you’re done for.
Totally, completely, hopelessly in love.
February 14th 2025
“Oh fuck Bucky—” Your voice dies into a loud moan as Bucky’s hips rut against yours, his dick deep inside you.
“Fuck baby, you feel so—” His words die on his tongue as you clench around him, sucking him into you.
Your hands roam his broad back, right hand resting on the metal of his upper arm.
Bucky’s got you on your back, fucking you into your mattress. His hand slides up your thigh, pushing your leg out to fuck you even deeper.
The new angle makes you cry out, eyes rolling back as the pleasure rolls through you with every drag of his cock, squeezing him as you come.
Just friends.
He takes you from behind, hand pressing flat between your shoulder blades, thrusting into your soaked cunt fast and hard.
It’s just a stress relief.
And when he has his face buried between your thighs, pushing you to the edge over and over, staring up at you like you hung the moon — you have to look away, hands twisting in his hair as you remind yourself yet again.
Just friends.
Friends who fuck and go on dates and sleep in each other’s beds.
Just friends.
He’d taken you out to dinner, picked you up from your place with a bouquet of flowers and a smile that knocked the wind out of you. You’d kept your cool all night, ignoring your heart thrumming in your chest.
But now, his forehead’s resting against yours, eyes locked on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, coming inside you with your legs wrapped around him. And all you want is to call him yours. Hold his hand in the light of day. Kiss him good morning when you wake up. Tell him all the things you love about him when he gets lost in his head.
But you can’t lose him. You won’t.
So you take the small pieces he offers you — collecting them like mosaic tiles, trying desperately to fit the pieces into something that makes sense.
February 14th 2026
You and Bucky had been edging towards something lately that felt like you were together. Like you were his and he was yours. Without it really being said. You’d catch him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. Eyes drifting to your lips when you’d talk. Sleeping in the same bed even when you hadn’t had sex — under the pretense of ‘it’s too late to go home.’ Gently brushing hands in the morning, leg hooking over his. Intimacy hidden in the quiet of the morning.
So when Valentine’s Day finally arrives, you’re excited. For your “pretend” date.
The two of you hadn’t said anything about it this year, but it was a tradition now, so you assumed he’d be ready and waiting when you arrived.
You’d been giddy all morning, trying hard to calm your nerves in between swipes of your mascara.
It’s just Bucky.
This isn’t a date.
Just friends.
You can’t help the anticipation, itching to see Bucky so much, you could barely get your shoes on.
So when you get to his door — all dressed up in that dress he’d said looks good on you and your makeup just the way you like — you’re not expecting him to be equally dressed up, already at the door.
And you certainly don’t expect the words that come out of his mouth.
“Oh hey doll. I’m so sorry. I was just about to call you. Sam set me up on a last minute date. I won’t be able to do our thing today. Next time, okay?”
The world tilts.
Your eyes blur. You say something that you can’t make out over the ringing in your ears.
He kisses your cheek and walks away.
He wasn’t yours. It shouldn’t matter that he’s going on a date. Shouldn’t matter that it’s Valentine’s Day and he wants to spend it with someone else.
It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t.
The words play over and over in your head as your feet hit the floor. You don’t even know when you started walking. Your blood rushes to your ears, your cheeks. You feel something sink low into your stomach — embarrassment.
‘Going on a date.’
‘Won’t be able to do our thing today.’
‘Next time.’
Our thing.
He had said it so casually. Like it meant nothing to him. Like you hadn’t stayed up late last night making him his favorite food, baking cupcakes and packing those face masks he loved so much.
You remember the first time you had shown him them.
He’d been sitting on your couch — muscles tense and shifting side to side with a groan of frustration when you’d offered to help him relax. Ran your fingers through his hair while he inched closer to you — blue eyes focused on yours. You’d given him a shoulder massage, offered to do your skincare routine on him. And Bucky had loved it. You don’t think you’d ever seen him that relaxed.
He’d made a face, crinkled his nose at the wet sheet mask before sinking into it.
‘We should do these all the time, doll.’
The lump in your throat is unbearable as you push your way into your apartment, finally breaking down into tears as the door slams shut.
Bucky couldn’t get it out of his head. The little ‘Oh’ you had muttered. He’d barely heard what the girl in front of him was talking about.
You sounded disappointed? Sad?
Honestly, when Sam had told him about the date, he’d wanted to cancel. Would have much rather spent the day with you. But Sam had told him off for taking up your Valentine’s day, saying how you’d probably much rather spend the day with someone else.
When he stutters over his words, an uncomfortable silence settling over the table as Bucky tries to think of something, anything to say — his mind wanders to you. How easy it is to talk to you. How he never has to think twice about what he says or the tone he says it in or when he should pause, when he should speak.
It all comes so naturally with you.
Bucky looks at the girl across from him. He can’t help the guilt that rises in his chest. She had probably been excited for this date and here he was, thinking about you, what you might be doing right now. How upset you had seemed.
His fingers twitch at his sides as he tries desperately to not reach for his phone and text you.
When Bucky asked you to come over a few days later, you know you should’ve said no. Know you shouldn’t have crawled into his bed, naked and wanting.
It’s hard to care once Bucky’s hitting that sweet spot inside you that has you reeling, pushing your hips up to meet his as his arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you into him.
“Oh fuck baby you feel so good. So fucking tight for me.”
Baby. Did he call her that? The girl he went on a date with.
His hands grip your hips, dragging you over him again and again, watching the spot his cock disappears inside you, covered in your slick.
Bucky’s eyes roll back at the sight.
“Look at you, taking me so deep. My perfect girl.”
Your mind wanders again. Perfect. Did he think that when he fucked her? Had he fucked her? No, he would’ve told you. Would he?
Bucky slows his thrusts, hand coming to rest on the side of your face.
“Hey, hey where’d you go, doll?”
You shake it off, moaning at the stretch of his cock inside you, hands grabbing at his back, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Nowhere, Buck. Please, please— just don’t stop.” You push your hips up to meet him, begging him to move.
Bucky falters for a second before pinning your hips to the bed and pounding into you.
“Oh god, yes Bucky please.” Your hands tangle in his hair, lips resting on the shell of his ear as you pull him into you, wanting him to cage you into the bed.
Bucky’s eyes roll back at the soft sound of your voice in his ear, fucking you harder, deeper — his tip dragging against your cervix with every thrust.
As you clench around him, moaning into his ear as your orgasm hits you fast and hard, you can’t help but think of it again.
Had he been inside her like this? Had she kissed his neck, whispering soft nothings into his ear as he comes — the way you do?
Bucky collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into him, placing soft pecks on your lips.
Did he hold her in his arms like this? Kiss her like this?
You needed to draw a line. Tell him he couldn’t cuddle with you all night. Couldn’t kiss the back of your neck and nuzzle into it like it meant something. But when his hand brushes your arm or his nose nudges your cheek, you melt into it — the way you always do.
But then, your mind wanders to the way you’d sat on the floor of your apartment crying, only days ago.
Bile rises to the back of your throat and you push his arm off you, standing quickly to get dressed.
“Doll, what?” Bucky half sits up, brows furrowing in confusion.
“I’m fine Buck, I just— I have an early meeting. I gotta go.”
You give him a convincing smile, eyes wet as you walk out of his apartment — a sob ripping through your chest the second he’s out of earshot.
You couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t everything to you.
It had been weeks since you’d last slept with Bucky. Since you’d seen him, talked to him.
You’d ignored his phone calls, pretended you weren’t home when he knocked on your door.
He knew you were. Could sense your presence on the other side of the door.
You’d tried to ease the ache in your chest every time he texted you asking if you were okay. Tried to distract yourself. Tried to let him go.
But how do you let go of the man whose soul is made of yours?
The music in the bar is loud, voices mixing with the loud beat as you stumble over your own feet, giggling and dancing with your friends as they pass you yet another drink.
You’d been drinking for hours, laughing and drawling on and on about all the dirty details of your many hook-ups with Bucky.
“No, like he fucks soo good. I don’t even know how to— how to explain it. I swear i’s like his dick is magical.” Your words slur together — your friends giving a loud whoop before diving into the details of their own hook-ups.
You’re listening intently to your friend tell you about the girl she’s fucking when your phone lights up.
Bucky:
Doll, please talk to me. I’m worried about you.
“M’just— just gonna—”
There’s a chorus of protests as you step outside, putting the phone to your ear.
Bucky picks up on the first ring.
“Doll, what— where—” He’s cut off by you.
“Buckyyy!”
“Doll, are you drunk?” He moves to put his shoes on, already grabbing his keys.
“Just a little, but m’having a good time.” You giggle, sniffling at the end, frowning at yourself.
“That’s good, m’glad. But I’m still coming to get you, okay? Stay right there and send me your location.”
“Mkay, Buck I can’t— I can’t figure out the location.” You’re about to cry as you try to text him.
“S’okay, I’ve got it.”
Of course he does.
“Okay, can you hurry? Cause I kinda feel not great now.”
“I’ll be there soon. Go say bye to your friends and meet me outside in ten minutes, okay?”
Bucky thinks he breaks about fifty laws just to get to you. His heart pounds in his chest — the thought of you needing him and him not being there making his jaw clench and his chest tight.
He smiles when he sees you, heart flipping in his chest at the sight of you. You’re sitting on the curb, eyes wide, looking a little lost before you see him.
You grin at him, running over to him, almost tripping over your own feet. He hugs you tight, breathing you in — his eyes closing at the feel of you so close to him. It’s as though he’s taking his first proper breath in weeks, his chest and shoulders easing as your hands find his waist.
“Can you take me home?”
“Course, let’s go.”
He starts driving towards your place when he sees the panicked look on your face.
“Where are we going? I want to go to your place Bucky. Miss you.” You feel a lump rise in your throat at the words and Bucky’s heart aches as you reach for his hand.
“Yeah, yeah we can go to my place. Hold on.”
By the time you get there, you’re half-asleep — Bucky picking you up and taking you inside. You grumble against his neck, arms wrapping around him.
“Why don’t you— Bucky why don’t you love me?” You hiccup as he places you down on the bed.
The sheets smell like him — warm and earthy with the faintest smell of smoke and you feel like you could cry. It pulls at a spot in your chest in a way you don’t quite understand. It feels like home and safety wrapped into one.
“Doll, what— you—you’re drunk—it’s not…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what to say.
Because you’re you.
You’re so beautiful and soft against his sheets and you’re the only thing that’s ever felt like home to him. His chest aches as a single tear slips down your cheek.
He wants to bury it. Wants to beg and plead with anything that would listen to take your pain away and never let you feel anything but joy ever again. He’d gladly burn the world down to make it happen.
He bites the inside of his cheek.
Still silent.
Still no words that would ever be able to explain the way he feels about you.
You’re more than love.
More than life.
Something he could never even imagine existing, let alone amongst him.
You’re everything.
But Bucky’s never learnt to hold something like you. Hydra taught him that if he showed he cared for something, he’d lose it. The memory of it. The feel of it. All of it.
And he couldn’t lose you. Not when you’re the closest thing he’s ever felt to peace.
“Bucky why don’t you get it? Like I love you. I love you. Like all the time Bucky.” You’re slipping, words slurring together as your eyes flutter shut.
You’re reaching for him — hands pulling at his shirt in a way he’s more than familiar with. When he doesn’t budge, you take off your own shirt, leaning in to kiss him.
He kisses you back — deep and hard and full of everything he doesn’t know how to say.
How to feel.
He snaps back when he tastes the alcohol on your breath, your hands dragging up his chest and around his neck, pulling him into you.
“Doll— we can’t—” He gets out between kisses, your lips moving more frantically against his, hands tugging at the hair on the back of his neck, the way he loves.
“Hey no— listen baby, you’re drunk…you’re drunk.” He says it so soft, so firm that you pull back completely, sitting back on your legs.
The room tilts. The air feels thicker. And embarrassment twists with something even uglier and you’re suddenly very conscious that you’re not wearing a shirt.
You pull it to your chest quickly and over your head, like it can reverse this moment, cover up the rejection you feel.
A single tear drips down your cheek — your chest and throat tightening.
Bucky feels his heart crack right down the middle when you look down, biting your lip, almost ashamed.
“You don’t— you don’t want me…”
His eyes snap to you, leaning in to cup your face in his hand, looking down at you with a tenderness that makes your heart flip in your chest.
“Listen to me doll. I will never not want you, you hear me? I will always, always want you. But right now, you’re drunk. And I don’t want you to regret it in the morning, okay? Just let me take care of you.”
Something in you melts and the tears start falling freely, your chest heaving and your breath shaking.
Bucky closes his eyes like a rock had just landed into his heart.
A rock would hurt less.
His thumb brushes your tears as he pulls you into his chest, lips resting against your forehead as he whispers sweet nothings against your skin.
“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? I promise.”
You nod against his chest, sleep overtaking you as he slowly lays you down, pulling the blanket over the two of you as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.
Bucky kisses your forehead and drifts off.
“Hey doll.”
You’re curled up to Bucky’s chest, the scent of his soap washing over you, head pounding as your eyes open.
You look down at yourself, groaning at the fact that you’d fallen asleep with your makeup on, back aching from the weird position you’d been in.
You blink the sleep out of your eyes, sitting up slowly.
“Hey— um— m’just gonna—” You get up, gesturing towards the bathroom as your heart pounds along with your head, the anxiety starting to settle in.
“Yeah, yeah, here take these first.” He hands you two aspirin and a glass of water he’d set on the bedside table.
“Thanks,” you mumble, swallowing the pills.
“I put some clothes in the bathroom for you too. And your toothbrush is in the same spot.”
You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill at the simple mention of your toothbrush.
You shower, scrub your makeup off with your cleanser you’d left there, and brush your teeth like you can wash away the drinks you’d had with sheer force alone — before settling into a pair of Bucky’s boxers and t-shirt.
You remember your drunken confession to him and wince — not wanting to leave the bathroom. Your hand hovers over the doorknob before you take a deep breath and open it.
“Hey.”
Bucky’s eyes snap up to you, already walking over to you, not quite sure what to do.
“Hey, um— do you want to eat something?”
“Not right now.”
Bucky nods, eyes trained on you.
“So last night?”
“Buck, I don’t want to talk about it, please. Just— can you take me home please? Sarah’s looking after my dogs and I need to get back.”
“Doll, please. I can’t just forget it ever happened. I can’t go back to not seeing you, not talking to you. The last few weeks have been hell for me. I miss you. I miss my best friend.”
“Bucky I—”
“Just please, sit down and talk to me, please.”
You sigh before sitting down on the couch, folding your legs under you. Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief before joining you.
“Where have you been the last few weeks?”
You shrug, curling into yourself as your throat gets tight.
“Doll, please talk to me.”
“Bucky, I— I can’t do this anymore.” You say, voice cracking as you sit up straighter, blinking back tears.
Bucky feels his chest go tight at your words.
No. No.
He’d been so terrified of losing you and now it was happening anyway.
“I can’t keep doing this half thing. You act like we’re together— I— I almost thought we were— and then you go on a date like it meant nothing to you. You didn’t even call me. I was just standing there like an idiot. It hurts too much Buck. It hurts to be yours and not be able to call you mine.”
You’re crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks, sniffling softly as you try desperately to control yourself.
Bucky has to stop himself from cupping your face, wiping your tears.
“Doll— fuck— I don’t know what to say.” He drags his hand down his face, feeling shame settle so deep in his stomach, it hurts. He had hurt you. Made you feel unwanted, unloved. When all you ever did was love him.
You look down, digging your nails into your hands as the urge to cry hits you even harder.
“Hey, look at me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry doll. Fuck, I’m an idiot. I thought that I was— I don’t know— doing you a favour. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me. You deserve everything. You’re everything that’s good and kind and sweet about the world. You taught me that I don’t need to shut everything out, taught me how to want again, how to feel. You mean everything to me and I— fuck— I love you. More than anything. I should have told you sooner. Fuck— I should have shouted it from the rooftops. I just— I didn’t know how. I didn’t know if you wanted me to.” Bucky’s eyes meet yours— terrified of what your reaction might be.
“I thought maybe loving me, being with me was too hard…thought I was too much…” Your voice trails off as you divulge your deepest fears to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.
“Hey—no.” Bucky’s hand curls around your jaw, thumb stroking lovingly at your cheekbone as you lean into his touch.
“I have been through hell, but loving you? Doll that’s the easiest thing I've ever done. I think— I think it almost came so easy that I didn’t realize it was happening. And then when I did, it terrified me. Because what if— what if I lost you? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t— I can’t lose you.” Bucky’s voice breaks at the end, his head dipping as he feels his eyes well up at the thought.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know if you can forgive me. I don’t know if I deserve it.” His thumb brushes your cheek again and the small act alone has you melting into him.
You look at him, long and hard, your heart swelling at the sheer emotion in his eyes.
“You not gonna go on dates with anyone else again?” You ask, teasing softly.
“Fuck no. I was thinking about you the whole time. Could barely get a word out of my mouth. Stupid Sam said that you probably wanted to spend Valentine’s with someone else.”
“Since when do you listen to Sam?” You laugh wetly.
“Since never. And I never will again.” Bucky leans in, carefully resting his forehead against yours.
“Do you forgive me?” His eyes meet yours and you forget how to breathe. They’re so blue and beautiful and full of love.
“Almost. You have to make it up to me.” You tease gently, nudging your nose against his.
“Doll, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes. Just say you’ll be mine.”
“You gotta ask me properly,” you whisper, enjoying dragging it out like this.
He happily obliges.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” He kisses your cheek, pulling your hands into his and sitting back to wait for your answer.
“Yes Bucky, I’ll be your girlfriend.”
Bucky smiles so big, he feels his face hurt. His chest so full, it feels like it might burst.
“Can I kiss you now?” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours once more.
“You don’t gotta ask Buck.” You kiss him then, soft and sweet and wet with your tears.
And Bucky’s kissed you many times but it’s never felt like this. Like the answers to the universe are held in the way you kiss him. Like everything he had ever been through was worth it for this moment right here.
Kissing you felt like coming home.
And when you pull back breathless, eyes glinting, he swears he could never love you more.
“Fuck you’re beautiful.”
You giggle softly, turning your face to kiss his metal palm that rests against your cheek.
“I love you Bucky.” Saying it in the light of day feels like a weight lifted off your chest — a truth that had always been there, just waiting to see the light.
“I love you doll, more than anything.”
You move to get off the couch, groaning loudly.
“I have to gooo Buck.” You reluctantly pull your hand away from him.
“Mm-mm, you think you’re getting away from me that easy? I just got you.” He stands to kiss you again, lips finding yours, kissing you deeper this time, tongue coming to softly trace yours as his hand travels up the back of your neck, tilting your head for him, his metal hand resting on your waist, fingers digging into your skin lightly.
“God, I can’t get enough of you. Call Sarah right now and tell her you’re not coming home yet.” He says between kisses.
You do. Because how you can you resist him when he looks like that? Lips parted and wet and kiss bitten. Eyes sparkling like this was the start of the rest of his life. Hair mussed and fingers still gliding posessively over your waist.
“What are you gonna do with me, Buck? You’ve got me all day.”
“C’mere.” He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as you yelp.
The playfulness melts into something deeper, more desperate. Bucky’s lips chase yours as he carries you to his bed, placing you down.
“Gonna worship this pussy baby. Fuck, I missed you.” His lips trail down your neck, hands pulling at his boxers you’re wearing, tugging them off.
“Bucky please…” Your voice melts into a moan as his lips find the soft skin of your thighs.
“Look at you, lying there in my shirt like it doesn’t drive me crazy. Mine. Gonna spend all day here, making it up to you.”
He places soft, barely there kisses to your thighs, inching closer to where you’re burning for him.
“Open, doll.”
You whine, spreading your thighs wider, bending at the knees as his hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you into him.
“Bucky fuck please, need you,” you let out a whimper when he runs his thumb through your folds, spreading your wetness like it’s something holy.
“Look at you, all wet for me, hmm? My perfect little girlfriend, so ready for me.”
Your hips push up towards his face, desperate for more. Bucky pins you down gently, before wrapping his lips around your clit, tongue flicking out and he moans.
“Fuck Bucky.” Your hands fly to his hair, before fisting in the sheets, trying to ground yourself as he licks long stripes up your slit.
“Yeah, that’s it baby. Make yourself feel good on my hand.” Your hips rut against his hand, fingers fucking into you with an obscene squelch, his tongue coming to flick against your clit once more.
You don’t know how long he stays between your legs, how many times you come against his face, moaning and breathless, pushing at his head when it gets too much.
Bucky finally, finally moves up your body, kissing you hard as he pulls you on top of him.
“I love you doll. So much. Always gonna be right here loving you.” He whispers it against your hair as you drift off in his arms.
And he keeps his promise.
He stays.
Through every hard thing. Through all your softest moments. Through the times that break you. Through every tear. Every health scare. Every time you have a nightmare. Every time you want a coffee. Every movie night and date night. Every time you’re so excited and want to share it with him.
Every dance.
Every laugh.
Every kiss.
Through every sweet and beautiful and ugly moment you share.
And for every Valentine’s.
also special thanks to @quantumbarnes for keeping me inspired and to @heldbybarnes for bouncing ideas with me! truly grateful 🫶🏼
taglist: @quantumbarnes @daydreamgoddess14 @matchaenthusiast1111 @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @sassandscribbles @skxawngg @punkrockrr (if you'd like to be added, please leave a comment on this post)
see my other works here: masterlist
