Him. He Was Written By A Woman

i- i can’t believe i managed to read this in public without screaming 🤭

How about a Bucky x girlfriend reader: It had felt like the longest mission of his life- and with readers "warm" welcome, they can barely contain themselves before making it to their quarters... After a night of rough sex, James gets a little guilt-trip during their shower together, when he sees all the marks on his lovers body. But reader replies with showing him the scratches and hickeys she has given him. “I don’t mind some love brands – they just show me that I am yours.”

Love Marks

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Bucky had been on a very long mission and he missed you terribly. When he returned home, the sex was intense, wild, and rough. Afterwards, the two of you shower and Bucky notices all the marks he left on your body. He's worried about having hurt you, but you make sure to reassure him.

Warnings: It's SMUT y'all. You should know this by now. Rough sex, unprotected sex, P in V, biting, spanking. Use of pet names. Cursing. Definitely some fluff thrown in there at the end.

A/N: Based on a request from @scorpionchild81. Hope you like it!! Sorry it took so long, love.

Bucky had been gone for two months. Two entire months without seeing, touching, kissing, or making love to the person you loved most. The hardest part was the almost radio silence you'd had since the mission began. You could count on one hand the number of times you'd heard from Bucky and the number of times the connection hadn't been poor was even less. You missed him terribly and you hoped he missed you just as much.

It was a Tuesday. You went to work as normal, came home to a painfully empty house, and ate dinner alone. It had become a routine, one that you had to admit you hated. Every day you came home, you hoped Bucky would be there waiting for you, but he never was. You weren't sure why you kept hoping when you knew you would only be disappointed.

As the night went on, you began to get ready for bed. After a shower, you crawled into your soft sheets, sent a silent "I love you" into the universe for Bucky, and drifted off to sleep.

Some time in the night, you were awoken by several loud sounds coming from your front door, followed by a string of muttered curses. You jumped out of bed, threw on your robe, and rushed out into the living room, flipping the light on as you went.

There he stood. James Buchanan Barnes. His hair was a mess and he'd grown a beard, but you would know him anywhere. It appeared as though he'd tripped over the pair of shoes you'd left by the door and in an attempt to catch his balance, had knocked your key holder off the wall. His bag sat on the floor beside him and he looked utterly dismayed.

"Bucky?" you said softly, coming closer.

He looked up at you and his expression shifted. "Doll." He crossed the space between you in seconds and pulled you in close, holding you so tightly you couldn't breathe. Not that you cared. "God, I missed you," he whispered into your hair.

Your response was muffled against his chest and he laughed lightly as he pulled away. "What was that?"

You smiled up at him, "I missed you more."

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. "That's impossible, doll."

When he pulled away, you gestured to the doorway. "Sorry about the shoes."

He shrugged. "I'm just sorry I woke you."

"Don't be...I'm actually very glad you did," you said, your tone turning more seductive. "In fact, I think this would be an excellent time for me to show you exactly how much I missed you."

He grinned wolfishly. "Oh, really? And how do you plan to show me?"

You bit your lip and turned away from him, walking towards your room. "I guess you'll have to wait and find out..."

He was on you before you made it to the doorway of the bedroom. His lips pressed into every inch of skin he could find and he slammed your body up against the wall. Bucky was normally a gentle lover, but right now, he couldn't control himself. He needed you with a kind of desperation that would have terrified him had he been able to think straight.

"Bucky," you moaned softly as he nipped at your neck, hands grasping at any part of him you could reach.

He pulled away from you just long enough to shrug off his jacket before he was on you again. God, how you had missed the feel of his lips on your skin, it was intoxicating.

His hands slid down to the tie of your robe, quickly yanking it open and exposing more of your flesh to his hungry eyes. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you towards him, holding on so tightly it was almost painful. His mouth trailed kisses and love bites all over your neck and chest, pulling moans from your throat as he went.

"Please, Bucky, I need to touch you," you whispered softly, tugging at his tactical suit.

Bucky groaned against your throat. It was clear he had no desire to leave your skin long enough to remove his clothing, but he finally acquiesced to your request. He stepped back, watching you closely to make sure you were stable against the wall before he slowly began to remove his clothing, eyes never leaving yours.

It was an oddly sensual moment wedged between a lustful make out session and what was likely to be incredibly rough, needy sex. You were quick to shed your robe, but when you went to remove your nightgown, your boyfriend stopped you.

"Not yet, doll. I don't think I can handle seeing any more of you right now or I'm going to completely lose control."

You could see the almost-feral look in his eyes as he regarded you and it made you smile. "What if I want you to?"

He groaned and leaned his forehead against yours. "You're gonna be the death of me, sweets, I swear."

You grinned and angled your chin so you could reach his lips. Instead of kissing them, you gently bit his lower lip, tugging it between your teeth, before letting it go slowly.

"Fuck," he groaned. One hand gripped your hip, the other made a fist against the wall behind you. You could see him losing control and you craved it.

"You know, I've been meaning to buy a new nightgown. This one is getting kind of old," you said slowly.

When his eyes met yours, you knew he understood what you were saying. The look was dark, lustful, almost predatory, and it sent a thrill of desire straight to your core. His left hand gripped the silky fabric right between your breasts and he pulled roughly, ripping the fabric right down the seam. He continued to pull until the entire thing was ripped in half and tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bucky held onto you for dear life, lips, teeth, and tongue attacking your skin, littering your flesh with bite marks and bruises. You loved it when he was rough with you, when he lost all control.

Bucky's hands slipped under your ass, pulling your legs up towards him. He didn't need your assistance as he pulled you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He turned and tossed you onto the bed, watching as you bounced a little before settling in the center. He climbed onto the bed and prowled his way towards you, like a predator with the most delicious prey in their sights.

He roughly grabbed your legs and pulled them apart, exposing your pussy to him. He groaned when he saw how wet you were, just for him.

Without warning, he dropped down on the bed and sunk his face into your pussy, gathering up as much of your slick as he could with his tongue. You gasped in a mixture of pleasure and surprise, one hand reaching out to snake into his hair.

He made the most delicious sounds as he ate you out, tongue diving deep inside you, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"Bucky, I'm so close. Please," you whimpered.

Bucky didn't stop, didn't say a word, he simply pressed his face in deeper and continued his work between your legs. Your thighs threatened to close in on him, but he pushed them down, keeping you firmly in place.

Within moments, you climaxed with a cry and a string of profanity. Your body shook beneath him, and he continued to lap up every drop you offered, ignoring your babbling pleas to stop because it was too sensitive.

When Bucky decided he was done, he finally came up for air. His beard was covered in your slick, which you found both incredibly sexy and incredibly embarrassing. He didn't even bother to wipe his mouth before kissing you, sliding his tongue into your mouth at the first opportunity.

"Buck," you moaned against his lips. "Lemme taste you."

He shook his head. "Sorry, doll. Not right now. I need to have you."

He bit into your neck, then your collarbone, before leaving several bite marks across your breasts. He sucked bruises into any piece of soft flesh he could find, eliciting moans from deep in your chest.

Bucky was normally careful with you when he first entered you because of his size, but tonight was not a normal night. He slammed into you with force and you cried out, pain mixing with pleasure as you panted beneath him.

Bucky's eyes met yours and you silently begged him to just move please, a task he was happy to do. He fucked into you like his very life depended on it, hands holding onto your body as he pounded you into the mattress. You cried out in pleasure, moans erupting from both of your mouths. You could barely breathe, let alone think, which was exactly what you wanted.

"Fuck, doll, I've missed this sweet pussy. Feels so good," he groaned.

"Feels good, Buck," you mumbled.

"Oh I know it does, sweets. Can feel you squeezing me. Such a tight little pussy."

He nipped at your neck as he slowed his pace. He sat up, pulling out of you, the emptiness like an ache between your legs.

"Buck?"

"Roll over, baby. Please."

It was not so much a request as it was a demand, a demand you were more than happy to comply with. You rolled over, sticking your ass in the air, which Bucky immediately smacked with his right hand. His cool left hand soothed the area as he adjusted your body to his liking.

When he had you where he wanted you, he plunged into you again, hitting new places deep inside of you. Each thrust would have sent you flying across the bed if he didn't have a death grip on your hips.

Your moans were falling from your lips so quickly it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Bucky snaked his left arm under you and pulled your torso up so you were leaning back against his chest. He continued to fuck you like this, fingers pinching your nipples, teeth nipping at the flesh of your back and shoulders.

Very, very slowly, Bucky slid his hand down your front. He paused just above your core, and whispered, "You want me to touch you?"

"Please," you whimpered.

"I need you to beg for it, pretty girl."

"Please, Bucky. Please touch me. I need it."

"Yeah, doll? You need it? You want me to play with that sweet little pussy of yours?"

You nodded rapidly.

His finger dipped between your folds and slowly circled your clit. "Tell me who's pussy this is."

"You--yours," you stuttered, a soft moan slipping past your lips.

He sped up his movements and you gasped in pleasure. "I'm not sure I heard you, sweets."

"Yours, Bucky!" you yelled as his hand moved impossibly faster.

He continued to thrust into you and his fingers never stopped pleasuring you. "I know you're close, doll. I can feel it."

You nodded, breathing ragged, legs weak.

"You wanna cum, baby?"

You whimpered softly in response.

"Then cum for me, (Y/N)." He sunk his teeth into your shoulder again. Something about the way he commanded you, the way he said your name, and the pain of his bite sent waves of ecstasy through you.

You came with a shout of his name, pussy gushing all over his cock and squeezing it as tight as possible.

Bucky groaned in pleasure, loving the feeling of your pussy throbbing around him. He quickly flipped you back over onto your back and began pounding into you with renewed vigor. He was clearly chasing his own orgasm, and you were desperate for him to cum.

"I want you to fill me up, James," you demanded softly.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned as his hips started to falter.

"That's it, handsome. Wanna feel you cum inside me."

He dropped his head into your neck and his thrusts weakened as he came, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

His body shuddered in pleasure as he collapsed on top of you, completely breathless. It took him a few moments before he could breathe normally again, and he finally rolled off you.

"You okay, doll?" he asked.

"Perfect," you replied, breathlessly.

He chuckled lightly. "How 'bout I get a hot shower going for us?"

"Mhm," you murmured.

He shook his head with a smile, and placed a tender kiss to your lips before dragging himself out of bed and into the bathroom. You heard the shower turn on and a few moments later, Bucky returned. "Can you stand?"

You nodded and pulled yourself into a sitting position. You tried to stand, but your legs were a little wobbly, so Bucky helped you up. You leaned against him as he walked you to the bathroom and helped you into the shower.

Your strength began to return as the hot water rained down against your skin. Bucky's arms were wrapped around your waist and he was placing soft kisses to your shoulders.

"Can I wash you, doll?"

You smiled at the sweet question. "Of course, Buck."

He grabbed the loofa and poured some bath gel on it and began to slowly massage your back. As he moved your hair to the side, he noticed several bite marks and dark bruises littering your skin. He felt a pang in his chest as he took in the marks he'd made. "Turn around," he whispered.

You turned to face him and his breath caught in his chest. Your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders, your breasts...everywhere he looked there were bite marks and deep bruises across your beautiful skin. He reached out and gently touched one of the darkest ones and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" you asked in confusion, eyes following his hand to its place on your chest. "For those?"

He nodded, eyes filled with pain and regret. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

You placed a hand on his chest. "Bucky, you didn't hurt me. I happen to like it when you're a bit rough during sex. It's a turn-on."

He looked up at you, seemingly unconvinced.

"I'm serious," you said firmly, taking a step toward him. "Every single one of these marks is special to me because they came from you. The person I love most. They remind me, and anyone who happens to see them, that I'm yours."

His eyes widened slightly as he took in your serious, but loving expression. "You're not upset with me?"

"Buck, I promise you, if you ever actually hurt me, I'll let you know. These are simply love marks, a pleasant reminder of the incredible sex we just had."

His eyes darkened slightly. "Incredible, huh?"

"Oh god, James, you're insatiable."

"It's been two months, what did you expect?" he teases.

"What I expect is for you to fuck me senseless a couple more times before we go to bed."

He groaned. "Anything for you, doll. Anything."

by TrekChik

Red Sox pitcher Bucky Barnes is having a shitty year. He’s four years into his five-year contract and if he doesn’t get his shit together soon, he’s gonna be traded, he’s certain of it. In just three months of play, his ERA is creeping up towards six, his strikeout count is low, and he hasn’t won a game in his last three starts. To make matters worse, he’s at odds with the team’s catcher, Brock Rumlow.

Words: 4336, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow

Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Baseball, Baseball Idiots, baseball pitcher Bucky Barnes, baseball catcher Steve Rogers, pitchers and catchers, Pining Bucky Barnes, Steve is savvier than Bucky realizes, Boys Kissing, Frottage

I love love love this. This is so Sam/Anthony coded. Exactly how I think he’d react.

Playing It Cool

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam’s getting way too suspicious about your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, laundry room shenanigans, sam wilson being done

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam didn’t sleep well.

It wasn’t the coffee. It wasn’t even the lingering PTSD from a week spent chasing Hydra remnants. No, this was different.

This was gut feeling. Instinct.

He was standing in the kitchen, hair wild, hoodie misaligned, and eyes like a war veteran who’d seen things and couldn’t unsee them. The clock blinked a smug 7:03 a.m. He poured black coffee like a man betrayed by the very concept of sleep.

That’s when he saw it.

Two mugs on the counter.

One had your initials. The other—a vintage WWII fighter plane sticker. It hadn’t been there last night. He knew, because he always did a final kitchen sweep before bed. Counters clean. Dishes put away. Mugs? Accounted for.

His eye twitched.

“…Barnes,” Sam whispered.

He crouched slowly, inspecting the mugs like they might start confessing their crimes.

Then the hallway creaked. Sam turned so fast he sloshed coffee onto his hoodie.

You entered the room, yawning dramatically, hoodie sleeves engulfing your hands.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

Sam squinted. “Is it? Is it really?”

You blinked. “…Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, with the exact tone of a man who was absolutely not fine. He walked to the table and pulled out a chair like it owed him money. “Sit.”

“Why?”

“Because I have questions.”

“I’m not under interrogation.”

“You are now.”

“…Sam.”

“Tell me what you were doing between 0500 and 0700 hours.”

“Sleeping.”

“Alone?”

You squinted. “What kind of creepy follow-up—?”

Sam narrowed his eyes like a raccoon about to steal a whole rotisserie chicken. “I knew it. There’s a cover-up.”

You grabbed a piece of toast and headed for the hallway. “There’s a cover-up on your brain, Wilson.”

“I’ve seen the signs,” Sam called after you. “The glances! The whispers! The ‘accidental’ brush of hands during mission briefings!”

“Maybe I’m just clumsy!” you yelled.

“And matching mugs?”

“That sticker was mine first!”

Before Sam could yell something, Bucky entered the room, with aexpression criminally smug. He looked like the kind of man who had just done something worth hiding.

“Morning,” Bucky said, voice low and gravelly. He moved to the coffee pot.

Sam’s eyes followed him like a hawk on its sixth espresso.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“I’m great,” Sam replied. “Y/N just left.”

“Cool.”

“Came in lookin’ real tired.”

“People get tired.”

“You look real tired.”

Bucky paused, looked Sam dead in the eye. “You implying something?”

Sam sipped his coffee. “I don’t know. You implying something?”

They stared each other down. The air crackled. Somewhere in the distance, a tumbleweed rolled by. A raven cawed.

“You need sleep,” Bucky muttered.

“I’ll sleep when the truth sleeps,” Sam snapped back.

Then Sam dramatically left the room—only to storm back in ten seconds later to grab a banana. He peeled it with authority and left again.

Later that morning, when Sam had finally left for a jog—or more accurately, a neighborhood reconnaissance mission—you found yourself back in the kitchen. You were putting away a dish, humming quietly to yourself, when a pair of warm arms slid around your waist.

You didn’t jump. You never did when it was him.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured against your neck, voice soft now, stripped of the earlier smugness he reserved for sparring with Sam. His lips brushed your skin like a secret.

“Hey yourself,” you whispered, leaning back into his chest. “You’re not worried Sam’s going to install surveillance cameras?”

“He probably already has.” You both laughed.

He rested his chin on your shoulder. “I left my mug out on purpose, you know.”

You turned your head to look at him, brow raised. “Seriously?”

Bucky shrugged, expression boyishly proud. “He’s been circling for weeks. Figured we’d give him a trail to follow. Let the man feel like he cracked the case.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You are so chaotic.”

He grinned. “You love it.”

You turned in his arms, resting your hands on his chest. “Yeah… I kinda do.”

He kissed you then. Slow. Sweet. Familiar. The kind of kiss that said, even with a super-spy roommate and questionable mugs, this? This is real.

Later that night you bumped into Sam, sitting on the couch. He was hunched forward, elbows on knees, staring ahead

“Where are you going?” he asked, voice low and suspicious, eyes narrowing like you’d just confessed to treason.

You froze. “Uh. Laundry?”

“Interesting,” he said, voice dripping with suspicion. “You know who else said they had laundry tonight?”

You blinked. “…Literally everyone who owns clothes?”

Sam didn’t smile. He leaned in, voice lowering like he was revealing national security secrets. “Barnes. Same night. Same floor. Same time.”

You paused just long enough to regret getting out of your room.

“It’s a laundry room, Sam,” you said flatly. “That’s how they work. People… use it.”

“Mmmhm,” he replied, writing something cryptic in his notebook. The pen squeaked aggressively against the page.

Just then, the door swung open—and in walked Bucky Barnes, freshly showered, damp hair swept back like a shampoo commercial, whistling something suspiciously upbeat.

 “Y/N. Wilson,” he greeted smoothly.

“Barnes,” Sam said, staring like he was trying to burn a hole through his soul with his eyes.

You smiled. Just a regular smile. Harmless. No romantic undertones. Just two coworkers… being cordial.

Totally.

 “You know... I was asking Y/N here,” Sam said, still squinting, “about her suspiciously coordinated laundry schedule.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “Must be fate.”

You coughed, choking down a laugh.

Sam slammed his notebook shut with the kind of theatrical flair that screamed “I was born for this drama.”

“Enough. You think I’m not onto you. But I see things.”

Bucky raised a brow. “You seeing ghosts again?”

“I’m seeing clues, Barnes. Don’t play dumb. You two doing laundry together. The mugs. The vanishing act during last Tuesday’s debrief—twenty minutes. Both of you. Gone.”

You opened your mouth, searching for a reasonable explanation, but let’s be honest—this was Sam. There was no “reasonable” left. This man had turned your laundry schedule into a covert op.

You crossed your arms. “We went to get snacks.”

“Snacks,” Sam echoed flatly.

“Yes,” you said, trying to maintain dignity. “You know. Human food. Fuel. Chips. The sacred post-mission ritual.”

Sam’s expression didn’t change. “For twenty minutes.”

“There was a vending machine incident,” Bucky added smoothly, stepping closer, unbothered. “Y/N had a standoff with a bag of peanut M&Ms. It got intense.”

You rolled your eyes as Bucky leaned casually against the doorframe, looking way too smug for someone being accused of laundry-based espionage.

Sam was relentless. “You think this is a game? Because I’ve got spreadsheets. I’ve got charts. I have timestamps.”

“I’m flattered,” Bucky replied, folding his arms. “Didn’t realize I was your top case file.”

“You’re not,” Sam snapped. “You’re just the most suspicious.”

You shook your head, already backing toward the hallway. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go… do the thing. With the clothes. Like a normal human person.”

“Sure you are,” Sam muttered, squinting again like he was two seconds away from installing security cameras.

“Goodnight, Wilson,” Bucky said with a wink. And then—because of course—he followed you out.

“Hey!” Sam called. “This isn’t over!”

You didn’t turn around, but you did hear the sound of him furiously scribbling in that cursed notebook again.

You and Bucky sat side by side on top of the industrial dryer, the hum of the spinning machines filling the quiet room. A single overhead light flickered occasionally, casting a soft glow over the laundry baskets at your feet. The scent of fabric softener lingered in the warm air.

“He’s going to lose his mind,” you murmured, folding a hoodie with unnecessary precision.

“He already has,” Bucky said, smirking. “Tried to stick a tracker in my jacket this morning.”

You laughed, bumping your shoulder into his. “We should start leaving fake clues. Plant a puzzle piece under his pillow. Hang a tie in the garage.”

“I already put a sock in the fridge,” Bucky said casually, reaching over to pull a warm towel from the dryer.

You turned to look at him, mouth open in delight. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Red. Argyle. No explanation.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I love you.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “I know.”

You went quiet for a beat, letting the rhythm of the machines and the safe warmth between you fill the space. His knee rested against yours. The scent of his cologne barely clung to the edge of his freshly laundered shirt.

He reached for your hand, twining his fingers through yours beneath the basket of still-warm socks. “He’s getting close, though. We are getting pretty obvious.”

“You wanna stop?” you asked, turning toward him.

He looked at you—really looked. And it was all soft eyes, steady presence, and a patience you hadn’t known you needed until him.

“Not a chance.”

Bucky smiled, warm and easy, and pressed his forehead lightly to yours.

“So,” you whispered, “what are we going to do when Sam actually proves something?”

“We deny everything.”

You laughed. “Even under interrogation?”

“Especially under interrogation.”

One day, he’d prove it.

But not today.

Meanwhile in the living room, Sam was writing in his notebook. On the top of the page:

CASE #110: They’re DEFINITELY Dating. And beneath it, scrawled in increasingly frantic handwriting:

shared laundry = suspicious

“Coincidentally” always sitting next to each other

Y/N smiled at him like he invented air.

Bucky smiled back.

FRIDAY pinged softly. “Sir, your blood pressure is elevated.”

“Because there’s a LIE in this house, Friday!”

War was still on.

But as long as you had Bucky Barnes looking at you like you were his whole world?

You were definitely still winning.

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2

A/N: it's me again, hi. just wanted to say a big thank you for all the comments and feedback i've been getting from all of you. never thought that a one-shot could turn into a series with already SEVEN PARTS. anyway, just thank you all again. i hope you're liking where this is going. see you next chapter <3

me while reading this 🤭

Comfortable

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky finds out that you’ve never climaxed during intimacy and he’s not happy about that.

Warnings: Smut, Crying during sex, Overstimulation (mental and physical), Language, Fluff, Minor Angst but not really

Word Count: 2.8K

A/n: Kinda based on life but without bucky coming in and setting things straight lol. I’ve also got the first like 5 parts of a new series written, so that’ll be coming soon hehe. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and I love you all very much! 

~*~

“I don’t know, Nat, I just… I guess I’m just never… I don’t know. I’m in my head a lot, I guess.”

The redhead snickers, elbowing her sister and sharing a look with her before both of their gazes return to yours.

“Barnes lacking?”

You shake your head quickly, trying to clear his name.

“No! No, God no! He just… it’s not him, it’s me. I think too much, I’m focused on making sure it’s good for him, making sure he finishes that I… I don’t know.”

Yelena purses her lips, “does he know he hasn’t made you cum yet?”

You swallow hard and shake your head, dropping your gaze to your lap.

“I… I fake it.”

Keep reading

goodbye- b. barnes

pairings: past lover!enemy!bucky barnes x reader, mentions of steve rogers warnings: lovers to enemies to lovers, a lot of angst, mentions of blood, hydra, mentions of death and 40s bucky about: sleepover request “enemies to lovers with bucky” that got wayy out of hand because i apparently don’t know how to write something that doesn’t a/n: okayy so i have never written enemies to lovers before, so i hope i did this right, and i did change it a little to past lovers to enemies to lovers, i hope you don’t mind!! i’m not too sure how i feel about this, mainly because it’s so long for me that i’ll only be able to read and edit it like twice and i’ll start hating it by the first time. this is about 4k words, aka one of my longest fics ever edit: YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO EDIT THIS WOW

bucky realizes exactly how bad his relationship with you has gotten when he overhears your argument with steve over the mission pairing next week. he doesn’t mean to; he knows how pissed at him you would get if you were to find out he was listening in to a conversation that didn’t include him— although, really, the last time he was included was decades ago, when you would smile at him with warm apple cheeks and let him tuck away stray strands of your hair.

your frustrated words sneak out through the cracks of the door, letting him know exactly how upset you are that you were paired with him for the mission.

“we’ve barely even talked—” bucky nearly scoffs at this, knowing well that it was your fault. although he can’t let you take full blame. “you know we won’t work well together. partners need to have each others’ back—” steve cuts you off at that, and it makes bucky glad because that had stung more than he thought it would. some part of him, even while you pointedly avoided his existence, thought that you still cared, even if it was monumentally less than the care you’d had for him before. he never wanted to confront the possibility that you didn’t care at all, that you would come running to steve in distaste at seeing your name and his next to each other.

“it’s done, y/n. deal with it. it’s only one mission,” steve tells you sternly, exasperated. bucky can see the tick of your jaw even through the door, the way you huff out of your nose and accept defeat. some things never changed, even after a near-century. there’s a silence bucky thinks indicates an end to the conversation, and he’s about to take his leave before he’s caught, but steve’s soft sigh stops him. “i thought this duel between you two would end by now,” he says, followed by a gentle scoff from you. steve ignores it, “you two were… so much bigger than this. are so much bigger than this.”

“he left me, steve,” you snap, words edged and sharp and pained, “he made me feel like another notch on his bedpost.” bucky nearly barges in right then and there, refusing to let you think like that. he knows he screwed up, but he never thought you’d think that. you were too good for him to think you meant so little to him; he had tried his best to make sure you didn’t think that way, he wasn’t sure when it went wrong. “he left me. didn’t even know he was gone ‘til i went over to his for the date he promised me and his ma told me he was gone.” bucky’s eyes close, forehead knocking soundlessly against the door frame. “at least you got a goodbye, stevie. all i got was assurance that i was never really anything to him,” your voice turns angrier, and bucky doesn’t think he can listen to you talk about this anymore. he turns towards the elevator after steve stays silent, probably knowing better than to argue with you.

“‘can’t do anything about this now, y/n. it’s only one mission,” is the last thing he hears steve say before bucky walks away, your words rattling around in his broken mind.

-

the jet is dead silent when he climbs inside, ten minutes early as usual, but you’re there already, wordlessly walking past him to replace one of the weapons you keep in your holster. bucky wants to tell you hello, even though he knows you will only respond with a dry stare his way before you give him a view of your turned shoulder as you do anything but acknowledge his presence. your overheard conversation with steve is still heavy on his brain, having scrutinized each letter of the words you’d said to try and make sense of them. even through the shattered, blurry mess of memories he had, the ones with you were bright and clear, as if taken on the best camera in the twenty-first century. he can remember the feel of your lips on his when you both got the guts to admit your feelings for each other, the way your lips had smiled through the kiss, your giddiness clear in the curve of your mouth, and the tender pull his jaw by your careful fingers. the sound of your flustered laugh still rings clear in his ears, the warmth of your forehead as you leant it against his own, shining eyes caught on his.

he can recall the storm of feelings he felt with the fanciest pen he owned in his hand, trembling over the clean paper while he tried to write the goodbye he would never be able to tell you in person. the words of the letter he can recite in his sleep: i love you, dollface. i love you so much that i can’t bear to tell you goodbye. i know that i’ll never leave if i have to stand in front of you and tell you that i have to, not when i know you’ll be there waiting for me. but i gotta do this, you know i do. i swear to you, doll, i’ll come back and take you out on the best damn date of your life. don’t be surprised if it ends with me on a knee and that ring i know you’ll like on your finger.

he knows you deserved a real goodbye, but he was selfish, and one look from you, and he would never go. still, how dare you say he left you without a goodbye when he poured everything he had into it?

he’s tempted to ask you right now, interrupt the cleaning of the gun in your hands, but the very real possibility of you shooting him cuts his thoughts short. nevertheless, he aches to hear your voice directed at him again, see your eyes on him, even if it’s in an argument.

even though the quinjet flies itself, you seat yourself in the pilot’s seat while bucky stays in the back, quiet. his eyes can’t help but drift to you every once in a while, just watching as you stare out the window, shoulders still tense like every time he’s in the same place as you. it makes him sadder than he had thought before, because he can still recall the times that they would relax every time he smiled at you, his touch calling for you to melt into him instead of stepping away from him.

after a second, he stands to recheck his weapons, even though he’s completely sure every one of them is in perfect shape. you stand, too, heading towards one of the doors when stark’s high-tech, no-turbulence quinjets experience a harsh bump. it knocks you—and nearly bucky— off your feet, sending you tumbling forward and straight into bucky’s chest. instinctively, his hands settle around your waist, holding you in place. it’s in the second that you allow him to touch you that he’s suddenly hit with exactly how much he’s missed being able to touch you— be near you. the scent of your perfume wafts pleasantly into his nose, and he memorizes it immediately, along with the warmth of your skin— which he notices remains the same— and the smell of the shampoo you use. you only allow him near you for a second before you push him off of you roughly, shooting him a dirty look.

“you’re welcome,” bucky grumbles bitterly, moving to sit back down. your head snaps back towards him.

“i didn’t say thank you,” you snap, “i didn’t even ask you to do that.”

“you don’t have to. it’s kind of the decent thing to do so you don’t crack your head open when you fall. it’s also the decent thing to thank me for not letting that happen.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, eyes thinning at him. he can practically see his words blowing up in his face. “don’t talk to me about decency.” you retort, “what the hell would you know?”

bucky steps towards you, “what is that supposed to mean?”

you scoff, “oh, please, as if you don’t know. don’t act stupid, bucky. as much as i don’t want to, i know you better than that.”

“i’m not— what the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“nothing,” you sneer, “just thought that being decent included saying goodbye before leaving to go to a fuckin’ war you didn’t even know you were gonna come out of.”

there’s an angry, confused silence that hangs in the air after you confess why you have been so dead-set on hating him after all this time. your chest is rising with heavy breaths, and bucky is confused, eyes searching for any semblance of a lie in your eyes, but he looks away when he finds none.

“are you serious?” he asks.

you send him a deadpan stare, “i don’t really feel up to joking around with you.”

bucky steps towards you, “i said— i said goodbye. maybe i didn’t do it in the best way, but i made sure i told you goodbye. i would never leave you like that, especially after…”

“you didn’t tell me anything. i only found out you left after your ma told me. do you know how ridiculous i looked? going to that house ready for our date, only for me to find out you left me before i thought you even could.”

“i sent you a letter. i explained everything, i swear,” bucky tells you, his hands on your arms gentle enough for you to slip away, and tight enough for you to know how serious his words were. “y/n, you gotta believe me. i would never— dammit, doll, how could you think i could leave you like that?”

“you did! that’s how i could think that! there was no letter, no warning—”

“you have arrived.”

you stop yourself, eyes glued to the floor as bucky drops his hands from your arms. “please, sweetheart, i swear i sent you that letter. i could recite it for you right now if you wanted it.” friday’s mechanical voice echoes through the speaker again, repeating the earlier statement. you shake your head gently as if trying to rid yourself of the distraction in front of you, but you allow yourself for a brief glance at bucky’s eyes, scanning his features for any indication of dishonesty. you pull away when you don’t find any, feeling more upset rather than relieved.

“let’s just do what we need to,” you say finally, exiting the jet. bucky follows you after a few seconds.

—

“we’ll split up. you take the right side of the base and i’ll take the left. we’ll find the drive a lot faster,” you instruct quietly, glued to the wall next to bucky as you check there aren’t any agents in the base.

“are you sure?” bucky questions, “the intel on this base wasn’t too clear. there could be agents in there.”

“i can handle myself. i’m sure you know.”

“y/n—” he begins fruitlessly, trailing off when you take his answer as confirmation and head into the base once you clear the entrance. sighing, he jogs up next to you, overly alert of his surroundings. there’s an air in the base that he recognizes too well; all hydra buildings have a certain disturbing feel to them that indicates all the pain that was forced upon hostages, the screams that echoed through the bloodied walls almost loud enough to travel through time and reach your ears. with this one, though, bucky can feel the device that was clamped to his head, ripping away every piece of bucky he had left. he shivers.

your eyes drift to him when you notice, eyebrows joining, “what’s wrong?” you ask him, tone all-business.

“i think i know this base. where are we again?”

you’re about to respond offhandedly when you pause, your movements freezing altogether. you gulp, an unwanted flash of recognition in your eyes as you turn to bucky. “um, siberia, russia. hydra siberian facility. this is the one you were…” you blink, forcing yourself to say it so he doesn’t have to. “this is the one you were held in, buck, i’m so sorry.”

it’s the first time he’s heard you say his name in a while. when he turns to you, he notices how tense you are, and he knows it’s not because of him, it’s because you can feel it too, now.

there’s a brief pause that follows. “i think you’re right. we should stay together,” you continue, “you never know.” your voice wavers, stepping a little closer to him as you continue walking through the facility.

-

there has been no sign of any other life besides than the two of you. you’ve cleared most of the rooms together since you refuse to leave his side. as much as you seem to hate him, there’s at least a small part of you that still cares more than he ever thought you would.

“another room.” bucky lets you know, leading you inside once he’s made sure it was clear. you begin to start rifling through the files at one end of the room, the sheer size of it making it seem like you were in two different ones. it’ll take a while to meet in the middle, he notes.

you pay little attention to him as you flick through names and papers, only really looking out for any indications that bucky isn’t okay. you’re on the third cabinet when you see the drive you’re looking for, clear and so badly hidden, it must hve been intentional. it’s shoved between thick folders and stray papers, making it easy for you to pull it out with a relieved sigh. you’re about to turn to bucky and let him know you can finally leave when a file with the name of the man in the room with you catches your eye.

even with the drive in your palm, clearly the one you need evident by the label on it, you can’t help the fingers that take the file out. the papers inside are worn and crumpled, the lack of care put into putting them away blatant with the folded corners and smudged words. handwriting on a ripped paper catches your eyes, the creases in the paper showing how much time it spent folded inside a pocket. air escapes you when you catch the date scribbled on the top right, the numbers slightly smudged, but there: december 14, 1941, the day bucky left for the army.

the events on the plane flood back to you as you read the letter. you can feel the lump in your throat growing more difficult to swallow with each read word telling you goodbye. as you stand straighter, opening the file more, something inside clatters to the floor, catching bucky’s attention. you distractedly pick it up, not really looking at it until you feel what it is in your hand— the compass you had gotten bucky years before he enlisted. your eyes finally fall from the letter to stare at it, running your fingers over the design on the edges and then on the little button to open it. your lips part when you discover the picture inside of you.

the weight of bucky’s stare on you is nonexistent as you run your fingers over your picture. you can remember the day it was taken—just a few months before bucky left— and the warmth that settled over your cheeks when bucky complimented you. you drag your vision away from it to read the rest of the letter, a glimmer of gold at the middle of the folder stopping you yet again.

you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips when you realize it’s a ring that is no doubt bucky’s. you’d seen his mother wearing it every day you knew her; except for the day you visited her— the day bucky left.

you mutter a curse when you realize what the letter means; what the compass with your picture in it and winnie’s wedding ring indicates. the promises bucky included in his letter were real, his love for you was real, and had hydra not held him hostage, his goodbye would’ve made its way to you, and so would bucky, with his wedding ring and lovesick eyes.

“what’s wrong?” bucky questions from the other side of the room, having observed your stunned silence for long enough. the gleaming tears that form in your eyes give him the push to walk over to you and the folder that you can’t stop staring at, the harsh grip your fingers have on it leaving indents on the paper. you don’t seem to care. “y/n?”

you can’t stop rereading the letter, taking in the words you had been repeating to yourself before you let the anger take you over. it’s like your forties self is screaming i told you so at your present self, furious at you for letting yourself think what she knew was wrong.

you let bucky take the papers from you without a word, the grip you have on the old ring that had resided on winnie’s finger for as long as you’d known her the only tie you have to the present. “fuck,” you say, roughly wiping away the tears that begin to streak down your face. bucky recognizes the letter immediately, brows furrowing when he realizes the goodbye he had written you never got to you, meaning that you were technically right— he had practically abandoned you after his dreams had come true because he was scared of exactly this. he hears you repeat the curse, eyes finally reaching up to meet his. “i’m so sorry, bucky,” you tell him, voice dripping in disappointed sincerity. “you were right. i knew you would never—” your face scrunches, fist tightening, “i know you would never leave me like that.”

the glint of bucky’s vibranium fingers catch on the shitty lights while he reads the same sentences he painstakingly clung together decades ago, desperate to make it perfect for you. he spots the compass dangling off its chain in between your clenched fingers, and from its absence in the file, bucky can assume you found the ring.

you catch his eye, looking down at your hand before quickly holding it out to him, carefully setting down the compass in his palm. your hand opens to show him the ring, “oh,” he croaks, shaking his head disorientedly when you extend it closer to him, urging him to take it back. “no, no, keep it. it’s for you anyways.”

pained eyes look back up at him before your fingers close over the jewelry, storing it safely in the chest pocket of your suit. he holds your stare for as long as he can, desperate in his search of the ocean in your eyes for something you weren’t even sure of.

“um,” you sniffle, blinking away your tears and effectively cutting off the eye contact as you look to the ground. “i got the drive. we can leave now.” bucky mumbles an affirmation, blinking at you when you regain your composure, straightening up with a wipe of your cheeks and a clear of your throat, “you set up the bombs, right?”

bucky nods, clearly muddled, “yeah… all ready to be activated.”

“let’s go then,” you say, avoiding his eye while you start to walk out of the room. he doesn’t think you think he noticed that the papers in the folder are gone, the only thing left is the compass in his hold.

-

you ignore him the whole flight, but the items from the base weigh heavy in your pockets, screeching at you to take them out and analyze them again for reassurance that the man you’d sworn heartlessly abandoned you like one of the flings you’d seen him leave had actually done the opposite. the ring that meant so much to his mother and the words he’d recited in his letter were proof of that, evidence that you were wrong and had hated him for no reason.

it was difficult to process how awful you had been to him, disregarding his presence and his concerned words. you could recall the day you arrived, when he had greeted you with a bone-breaking hug that you had returned until the memory of what he had done to you settled in. the grief you’d suffered for him had torn deeper at your heart, and torn you away from him.

he had been angry with you, too, after realizing why you were standing in the same room as him, the exact same as the last day he’d seen you, just like him. you couldn’t blame him now; you were reckless to a point of danger due to the anguish that had ripped you apart so desperately, you felt there was no more of you to keep safe. the loss of not only the man you’d loved wholly for your whole life but of both of the best friends you’d protected and been protected by, shattering you to the point of giving yourself to howard stark as a guinea pig for his time travel ideas.

you allow yourself one look at him after not being able to help yourself, startled to find his attention already on you, the compass open and cradled in his hand like a precious stone.

you turn away and don’t look back at him again.

-

silence is all you can give when you arrive at the compound, heading straight into your room and putting off a shower, instead tugging out the yellowed letter with a delicate desperacy you weren’t sure you still had. the itch of your suit goes unnoticed by you as you slide against the wall, letting yourself sink to the floor, distracted by the letter clenched in your hand, eyes scanning the words you had been reciting to yourself the entire way back.

i love you he repeats at least three times, and you aren’t sure if the dry splatters of water are yours or his. i’ll marry you when i come back, he promises twice, and you can nearly hear the words in his own voice from the forties, so hopeful and so sure, so unaware that he would never come back to that time. goodbye, he writes at the end, for now like a prayer.

you can’t feel the tears as they drench your face. you can only feel the lack of air as you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut and hugging the paper to your chest as gently as you can, careful to not damage it any further. the ring is digging so hard into your palm, you’re sure when you open your hand again, you’ll be met with small dots of blood.

it’s why you don’t notice when bucky opens your door to the image of you, the very same one he would’ve seen the day the man knocked at your door, full of empty apologies as he delivered two condolence letters to you instead of your boys. it’s instinct to him when he rushes over to you, gathering you up into his arms as he repeats it’s okay, even if he doesn’t know what it even is.

your arms drape over his neck without hesitation, face nudging its way into the familiar crook of his neck, trying to control your shuddering breaths. “i’m sorry,” you keep saying, fisting the shirt that smells like your detergent. he assures you it’s okay, the letter in your hands, stained with tears and guilt, letting him know what’s wrong.

you whimper about how much of an ass you’ve been, how you should’ve known better after knowing him so much better, how you should’ve let him explain before pushing him to assume any love you had for him was gone when the complete opposite was the truth. you confess how much you missed him even though you felt betrayed, the overwhelming amount of love you still hold for him.

he responds by brushing away wet strands of hair from your damp eyelashes and comforting pressed kisses against the salty skin of your cheeks— just because you’re letting him and he’s wanted to do that ever since you met him, ever since you kissed him the day before he left for the war, when fireworks exploded in his brain and he was sure you had to be soulmates even if they didn’t exist in your world.

he understands, you realize, and he doesn’t blame you at all.

it settles in once you’ve both calmed down, when your head is on his shoulder and his arm around your waist, the letter he wrote you neatly folded on your dresser. “i missed you,” you tell him, smiling softly when you feel his lips against your forehead.

“i missed you, too,” he murmurs, “more than you know.” his fingers are intertwined with yours, and you let yourself appreciate how much he seems to like touching you. “‘think i owe you a date, though.”

language!

Hi! Could you do College!Bucky and reader with the Ask prompt of the sexual tension prompt list? Where they are making conversation and Bucky asks reader why she's single?

[ ASK ] : your muse asks my muse if they're single.

Hi lovey! Thank you for the request. Of course I can! I hope you enjoy ❤️ idk why, but I felt like Bucky would’ve been v v popular, and in a fraternity, so that’s kinda how I structured this. I’m sorry this took so long!

And thank you to @bwhitewolfbarnes for Beta Reading this. 🥺❤️

Title: The Party

Pairing: College!Bucky X Female!Reader

Warnings: fluff, nothing else I can think of! Let me know if you see something else.

It was a stupid last minute decision that you had made to go to that dammed frat party with your friend. Alyssa had insisted on finding you a boyfriend, or at least someone that you wouldn’t mind hooking up with every now and again.

This wasn’t your idea. Yet here you were, in the kitchen of the frat house that you already forgot the name of, while Alyssa was off dancing on some random guy you didn’t recognize.

People repeatedly came in and out of the kitchen, getting drinks, and making out, before moving either back out into the main room or upstairs. No one really stopped to talk to you, but you were grateful for that. A couple giggled and left the kitchen as someone else entered.

You didn’t recognize him, but he certainly was attractive. Brown hair and bright blue eyes. He flashed you a kind smile, and maneuvered around you to grab a red solo cup, and various alcohols. “Hiding from someone?” He spoke when you two were finally alone, his gaze never leaving the cup.

You shook your head, saying “no” softly. He hummed, and handed you the cup. You held your hand up, signalling you didn’t want it. He smiled softly, and you just said, “I don’t drink much. I’m at my limit for the night.”

The man nodded, and held his other hand out, “I’m Bucky.” He flashed you that lovely smile that made you inch closer, and take his hand. Offering your name, he repeated it, shortly after replying “beautiful name.”

You dropped his hand, smiling softly as he leant on the counter beside you. “So what’s a girl like you hiding in the kitchen of a frat party?” He asked.

“A girl like me?” You found yourself giggling softly, “my best friend is off somewhere doing god knows what.” You smiled slightly.

“Best friend? Girls usually don’t come with their best friends. They usually bring their boyfriends.” He said, looking at you expectantly.

You shook your head, moving around him, and grabbing a cup and getting water. Bucky smiled, “alright.. can I convince you to dance with me?” He asked, holding his hand out to you.

“I’m not a big dancer. But thank you..” you smiled. “But maybe you can tell me about yourself?” You asked, hoping to soften the blow. Something about him made you want to be around him.

He smiled, holding his hand out for you again. This time you took it, as he led you out the back door, towards the backyard. The sun was just setting and the air was cool, but not too cold. You smiled as he walked you to a canopy swing. You smiled, sitting down, as he sat down beside you.

***

You giggled as he told you a funny story. The two of you had been out on that swing for what felt like minutes, talking, joking around and laughing. But the air was getting colder. Not enough to go inside, but enough that you noticed the drop in temperature. The sun had already set. But neither of you wanted to leave, just enjoying the presence of each other.

“So there’s really no boyfriend? No one you’re interested in?” Bucky asked, his face turning to you.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “No. Not really. I mean, dating in this time period is kinda weird to me.. I don’t know, I just feel like I’m expected to put out on the first date. I feel like that’s a requirement to get a second date these days… sorry, I’m rambling.” You giggled softly, face heating once again.

He shook his head, smiling, “I could listen to you ramble all day.. but I totally understand” he smiled softly and looked back out at the skyline.

You smiled softly and bit your lip, “what about you? No girlfriend?” You questioned him, surely a guy like him should have a girl somewhere. Right?

Bucky chuckled, “No. I uh, not to sound like that frat guy.. but I’m looking for someone who doesn’t throw themselves at me, someone down to earth.” He nodded.

You smiled softly, nodding, and from that moment, you knew you at least made a friend. What you didn’t know? Bucky would soon ask you out, which would lead to a wonderful, long relationship.

why not right there…?

I ran so that I could share this with you because it made me think of how flustered chubby baker Bucky would get when he saw it!!

Summary: Teasing Bucky is always worth the consequences.

Pairing: Chubby!Baker Bucky x Reader

AN: Unbetad drabble. Part of the Sweeter than Sugar Series.

"Peach," Bucky whispers, rubbing the back of his neck as a blush blooms across his round cheeks. "I—this isn't fair. You know you can't do this to me. I can't handle this."

You hide a smug smirk behind your champagne flute. He's right. It's not fair. But he started it when he showed up to your work party wearing a new black three-piece suit, tailored to his large body, the material highlighting every inch of his physique.

Bucky in his jeans and apron is enough to drive you wild. Bucky in a suit, wearing that cologne is rendering you senseless, teetering the edge of feral and needy.

How can he expect you to behave when he looks so damn good?

So you may have been teasing him here and there as a way to distract yourself from this boring party.

Your gaze travels past his long hair sweeping across the nape of his neck and across his strong jawline enhanced his thick beard. God he's spent so much time between your thighs, you know exactly how that beard feels on your soft skin.

Just imagining the graze of it on your back as he chains kisses down your spine--feeling it against your neck as he murmurs just one more, one more Peach has your panties soaked.

"Bucky I need you so bad. If we were home, I'd beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me suck your cock. You taste so good, did you know that? So good." You murmur, reveling in this shiver sliding down his spine, your hand flexing, gripping his muscular thighs tighter. Your voice drowning out everyone else in the room, he can only focus on you. "I hate feeling empty. Need you to stretch me out and fuck me the way you know I like. I'm going to feel you inside me for days, aren't I?"

Unable to resist him for another second, you set your drink down and lean over in your chair, placing one hand on his thick thigh, the other sliding around his throat pulling him towards until your lips are touching the shell of his ear. Inhaling the masculine scent of his smokey cedar, bergamot, and lemon cologne, you let out a soft moan.

You know he's slowly becoming feral the longer you talk, you can sense it in the way he's gone still, his chest barely rising, his hands clenchimh into fists. He's so damn close to edge and you know exactly how to push him over.

"You'll do that for me Bucky wont you? Keep me nice and full, leave me swollen and dripping because my little pussy couldn't take anymore."

Bucky can't breathe. His lungs seizing in his chest. Fuck, fuck. You're barely touching him, the sounds your salacious, dirty thoughts ringing in his ear are going to make him lose control in the middle of your work party.

He wants that, wants you.

A ravenous hunger swells up inside him, drowning out every thought except all the ways he's going to utterly consume you. Destroy you. Make you sob and plead and scream for more. Giving you every inch he has, giving you all of his attention until you can't move without feeling on you, inside you.

Bucky turns his head, his nose bumps into yours and he grabs the back of your neck in a loose hold. His deep blue eyes darkening as they pierce through you.

"Peach," he starts, his baritone deepening to a gravely, lust-filled tone. "I'm giving you one minute to find an empty room. It could be an office, a fucking closet. I really don't give a fuck where because by the time I countdown to one, I'm going to be inside you." Bucky tilts your face up, his lips hovering over your parted mouth, his gaze never wavering from your face. "Understand?"

You nod, excitement and anticipation rushing through your veins as a pulse of pure need throbs between your thighs.

You feel his lips curve into a smile.

"Good girl. You have 59 seconds."

need. want. pls.

I forgot to save the clip before answering the original ask but it was a man bragging about buying his wife diamonds every year. And of course Bucky would do the same.

Imagine you and Bucky at a charity gala being held in a luxury hotel. One of the men at the party makes a joke about how you must be costing Bucky a fortune because you're always wearing different necklaces and bracelets. His wife chimes in, an undeniably envious tint to her voice as she asks if Bucky actually buys you diamonds every year.

"Of course I get her something for every occasion. Diamonds. Emeralds. Sapphires." Bucky ticks off the list with a casual shrug, he loves buying you things so being generous is second nature to him.

Bucky wants you to have items as beautiful as you are. Or close to it because so far nothing he can get has been as stunning as you are to him.

Bucky picks the set of jewels based on his other gifts, he takes matching sets to another level. "She needs new jewelry to go with her new car," he says casually to the dismay of the stingy men around him, their wives glaring at them.

Bucky's blue eyes find you, a smirk pulls at his lips. He really, really loves buying you things. Gets off on spoiling you. "And what else is going to match her new heels?"

His gaze darkens as a memory replays in his mind, judging by the slight shiver making it's way down your body, you're remembering the same night he is.

You covered in diamonds. Wearing only the heels. His body, warm and heavy, on yours. Under you. On top of you. Bending you over. His large hands on your hips keeping you still. Moving you any way he pleases. You can hear his words in your ear, feel the deep rasp of his voice, praising you, telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect you are, how much he loves you, how good you are to him, for him.

"You take me perfectly "

"One more, just one."

"Just like that, that's it fuck you feel so good"

"That's my girl."

"As a matter of fact, I have some new pieces waiting for her upstairs. She can have them whenever she wants." His gaze never leaves yours, his hold on you unbreakable.

Just say the word and everything you want is yours Malyshka.