Tfatws Bucky - Tumblr Posts
cowboy like me
summary: a bad day for Bucky, a splendid week for the woman. mixed feelings and memories of a stormy past prevent Bucky from giving voice to his true feelings. (I'm really sorry I'm so bad at summary's)
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
words: 2k or so.
warnings: poor bucky letting his feelings get the better of him and saying mean things from time to time, sorry bout that. oh, and I wrote this in the third person, I don't know if that's a warning but still. and last but not least, English is not my native language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.
also, the title of this and the part of the song quoted below only inspired the setting of this one-shot. the "plot" is independent of the theme song. I just have a bunch of taylor's songs that inspires me scenarios like this with independent plots, it's like a hobby. and ALSO, this is my first fic in here, and I really hope to do more parts in the future, especially when this semester is over. so, I hope you like it!
you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars hustling for the good life
It had not rained like this for quite some time. Lightning echoed in every part of the city and the drops were crashing against the window glass with the speed of a Maserati on a winding road; the sky was dark even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Inside the room, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable, one of the reasons she stopped by at least five times a week. However, a few minutes before the downpour began, the whole atmosphere had turned so grey that for a moment it seemed as if the clouds were bringing a bad omen...
But no, it was only him.
The man who always sat next to her in the cafeteria to use one of the computers that the café provided as a service.
Besides the sound of the bell above the door and his soaked boots, it was his exasperated sigh that caught her attention before she looked away from her laptop screen.
His hair fell over his forehead with a few raindrops slipping from his forehead and temples, until they were lost under his jawline and mingling in the cotton of his shirt. The frown he kept on his face did not disappear as he tried, very unsuccessfully, to dry his clothes by shaking them slightly.
He would definitely do anything to keep that leather jacket and gloves on.
The smell of coffee and the hustle and bustle of the room contrasted with the calm but resignedly helpless attitude of the man who was running his hands heavily over his trousers as if they were a portable hairdryer.
Michael, one of the waiters who occasionally gave them ham and cheese croissants on Saturdays when they were both there, approached the sulking man and, seconds later, they both disappeared into the kitchen behind the till.
The screen of her mobile phone lit up as she tried to refocus on the reading she had to do.
Betty: I still don't understand how not wanting to visit your abusive dad in hospital is an important topic of conversation in a counselling session. I mean, the words abusive father say it all.
Tell me you're on my side.
Me: I still think you should change your psychologist.
Betty: I know! But at that clinic it's 30% cheaper than getting a private one. But, I already have a solution, next week I'll...
The squeak of the chair next to her being dragged startled her and her mobile phone almost flew out of her hands. The grumpy man, now a little drier, dropped the weight of his giant body on the poor chair so that it squeaked as if complaining about the man's rudeness. He stared at the computer screen on as if it held the solution to all his problems.
“Bad day?”
“Just an unfortunate string of inconveniences since I opened my eyes this morning,” he commented seriously and gravely as he began to move his hands over the keyboard. He hadn't looked at her when he spoke, which was not unusual, but at the moment it felt inappropriate, “Nothing I'm not used to.”
The woman turned her head to look at the twenty-seven pages she still had to read, and it seemed too tedious a thing to spend her time on now that Bucky had arrived.
“Is there anything I can do for you? I'm going to apply for a job at a daycare, maybe I could start practicing with you.”
Bucky faked a laugh, rather bitter and strained the kind she was used to hearing, “Very funny,” he said, his gaze dark and fixed on the screen.
“Sometimes you laugh at my jokes.”
“When they're funny,” he blurted out as soon as she finished speaking, instantly regretting it but not showing it in his body language.
“Hey! Don't hurt my feelings like that. What happened with your therapist? If you want to talk about it, sure.”
She watched his body tense and how he made no attempt to hide the bitter expression on his face as soon as the word "therapist" left her mouth. The woman thought she'd made a poor choice of words, yet Bucky felt unsettled by how strangely easily she seemed to be able to read his attitudes. Since when had she started doing such things? Had she always been that way? Had he let his guard down that much these past few weeks?
“Just... trouble, in general,” he pronounced her name with feigned gentleness, sending a shiver down her spine. Had he noticed by now? So soon? She thought, hastily.
“Okay,” she mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her mind worked at full speed, “I understand if you don't want to talk about it.”
No, he couldn't have noticed. Regardless of how damaged and broken she was inside, she knew that wasn't something Bucky paid the most detailed attention to. And, even if that were the case, there wasn't a person on the planet who knew her better than he did at this point, so if he wanted to walk away and leave her to not deal with her problems and constant chatter, he would have done so long ago.
Bucky sighed deeply, the movement of his chest aching from the lump in his throat. His hands moved on automatic over the keyboard, digging into things he already knew, spending the time just trying to divert the train of thought that wouldn't leave him alone. Anyway, is it really so bad for someone to know me like that? He thought, as the woman returned to her reading, it's not bad to be vulnerable once in a while, she's not going to hurt me. I know, I know.
Then why does it scare me so much?
His hands clasped as a third presence appeared between them. Michael, with a giant grin on his face, set two medium-sized cups of coffee on the small table they shared in front of the window. The woman's, with milk and sweetened with vanilla, as she always asked for. Bucky's, black, plain and cold, the way he always drank it.
The girl sitting next to him and the barista shared a couple of words in a conversation that seemed to be too funny, because she kept laughing. Why did he find her laughter annoying? Was it because it was too loud, or because it sounded too high-pitched unlike her normal laughter? When she laughed with Bucky, her tone was softer, gravelly, delicate and jovial. He couldn't describe the sensation that burned in his chest every time her eyes narrowed at her smile, or every time she brought her right hand to her chest, over her heart, as if she couldn't bear to laugh anymore, but at the same time holding back the pain in her cheeks so she wouldn't stop.
Michael didn't get that. No, he wasn't getting what Bucky was.
“Bucky?”
Her chuckling voice disconnected him from the bizarre conjectures in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her. She was looking at him with a rueful smile and her cheeks were too flushed.
“Are you all right?”
The aforementioned reveled in the sight that was plastered in front of him, with her sparkling eyes and the way her lips curved, before replying, “Yeah, all good.”
When he noticed Michael was still there, his shoulders tensed and quickly his gaze refocused on the sea of words displayed on the screen in front of him.
“You're too stiff,” he heard the woman's voice again a few seconds later, “Are you sure you don't want to do something to distract yourself? There are a lot of things coming to mind right now.”
Bucky turned to look at her with a frown.
“What things?”
“Um, last week you told me you've never played twenty questions before.”
The man arched an eyebrow, intrigued by how his mind played him, but quickly replied, “Do I look like the kind of person who plays the twenty questions?”
“Not really, but that day you told me you were willing to try it if I played it with you.”
Bucky was silent for a few seconds.
“I don't remember saying that.”
“Sometimes you don't remember a lot of things for convenience, Barnes,” she teased innocently, but Bucky knew what that meant: you're always evading me when I'm trying to help you.
And well, it was true.
“I imagine you don't remember Sam's invitation to you three days ago either.”
“What invitation?” he played distracted, as he pretended to vehemently read what he'd Googled.
“He asked you to join him to watch a game at the bar two blocks from your flat.”
Bucky hummed as he pretended to think about what he'd just heard, even though he remembered it perfectly. And he knew that earlier in the day he'd left it on hold, which was a clear and express no, but he hadn't said that to the woman who was now staring at him.
“I don't like football.”
The woman let out a snort of exasperation.
“This is why you have no friends, Bucky.”
“I could say the same about you.”
Bucky knew it was a joke. She'd said things like that to him before and it had never bothered him; he knew she didn't mean it in a derogatory way or to make fun of him. She would never do that. But subconsciously, he couldn't stop his mouth from blurting out the words he didn't want to say; words he would never have thought to say to her.
“I know you've had a bad day, Buck,” she spoke again after a few seconds, “But I just want to distract you.”
“I don't need your help, I can manage on my own.”
“Okay, let's just... change the subject, shall we?”
Bucky pursed his lips, but didn't dare connect their gazes.
“I'm sorry.”
“It's okay," she mused, and didn't speak again until a couple of seconds later, “How was your date?”
He gave a small smile before saying, “I'm sure you waited for a reasonable amount of time so you could satiate your curiosity.”
The woman let out a laugh, the kind that had the ability to calm Bucky's countenance for a few moments, before replying, “It's just that ever since I met you I didn't think I'd ever see you going on a real date.”
“And you probably won't again.”
“That's how bad it went?”
Bucky twisted his mouth, only remembering the image in the background of his neighbour's flat.
“It could have been worse.”
“Maybe we're just not cut out for dating.”
After a long moment, Bucky turned his head to watch her pursed lips. Her expression seemed downcast, but she pulled herself together quickly when she felt his gaze on her.
“What we've done or who we've been in the past, doesn't define what we can do or be now,” he reminded her of the words she always said to him when he felt he didn't deserve something good, and watched her nod at his words with a small smile, “Don't torment yourself thinking about it, neither of us had a choice.”
“I could tell you the same thing.”
Bucky smiled, sincerely, and for the first time since he had awoken that morning.
“I apply the philosophy you preach perfectly, I'm a great disciple.”
She elongated a sarcastic laugh that widened Bucky's grin. What was it about her that drew you in and bewitched you like that?
“In a trauma contest, you'd take first place, Barnes.”
“We'd be tied, you mean.”
The woman smiled at him, and between their looks, they both knew they were only hiding the truth behind the humour. Bucky didn't often do it, but since he'd met her, and considering that was something she often did -using humour to cover up the truth she'd rather not accept, or simply to hide the pain-, he'd gotten such a habit of doing it every so often that even his therapist was a little put out the first time he joked about one of his traumas in front of her. It was a very strange scenario that was never repeated.
“I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier,” Bucky took the floor again, a little more relaxed than when he'd arrived soaking wet in the cafeteria, “It's just... I killed my neighbour's son.”
“No,” she replied quickly and firmly, as she did every time a similar topic came up in their conversations, “It was the Winter Soldier. It was a person they created to control and disenfranchise, that wasn't you. It wasn't the Bucky I know. I'm sorry to hear that, but... it wasn't your fault, I know that whatever they did for your mind was always rejected by your body, even if you couldn't control it.”
The man half-opened his lips, wanting to say something, wanting to give voice to the jumble of thoughts concurring in his mind, but nothing managed to come out other than incoherent babbling.
“I... I don't know how to tell him.”
“You really want to?”
Bucky nodded, looking into the woman's shining, understanding eyes as she brought one of her hands up to cradle the side of his face.
“Then you'll find a way. Don't push yourself.”
He rested his right hand on the hand the woman held on his cheek, and leaned his head slightly into her touch. Although the stress and tension did not disappear completely, it did give way to a relaxing and lively sense of calm and stillness. Bucky didn't know if she had done it on purpose or not, but her words, though few, brought back a harmonic undertone he hadn't allowed himself to return to in a long time.
Then you'll find a way.
Don't push yourself.
strike one (2)
summary: Bucky is trying to balance his life after making you a part of it, but there were still some walls he needed to work on
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
words: 4k
warnings: i think none? lmk if you think i should add one. also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!
note: i don't know how i got the inspiration, the cunning or the desire to write again. i feel like i have a weird relationship with it but i want to overcome it but i don't allow myself to. it's very strange and i hate it. but well, i was thinking very often about the first part of this and finally i could think of something harmonious to continue it. i hope you like it and i hope tumblr will make it reach more people this time.
- part 1: how to break a routine in one year
Bucky only knew that there was some sort of event. He awoke that Sunday morning to a constant pounding on his door, insatiable and irritating, followed by a female voice that, sadly, he had come to know all too well. His young neighbour had woken up early that day with the sole purpose of making him wake up grumpy and on the wrong foot; he had barely had three hours of sleep and felt like his body had been run over several times by a tractor-trailer. Did that feel like being sick? He couldn't feel it from the serum, but he thought it was something similar to how his body felt at that moment.
Bucky came to regret several times in those two weeks that he had made the decision to let that noisy neighbour into his life. Sometimes she was helpful, but other times she was too unwelcome, and though she didn't ask questions to fill the awkward silences around his half-told life story, Bucky knew she was dying to know what was really going on when his gaze wandered somewhere in the instance. Knowing that she had this curiosity made him too uncomfortable, sometimes he couldn't even bear it, but he knew he would have to live with it until the day he decided to tell her the truth or until he cut her out of his life for good.
Bucky… Bucky considered himself a man of patience. That life he lived in the shadows left him with a lot of bad things that he was still dealing with, and he would never dare say that anything good came out of it. There was nothing but heartache and suffering, both from himself and from the people he hurt. But patience was something that had endured in him despite all these upheavals in his life. As always, it was common for him to want to control every aspect of his life, a situation that required a great deal of patience to carry out with skill and perfection.
That Sunday morning, Bucky felt his patience hanging by a thread. He had heard something about an event being held in the building that day, when he arrived in the early hours of the morning where he lived, teenagers talking about it at the reception desk. He had a slight feeling that his neighbour had something to tell him about it at that moment. He sighed in defeat.
His body shifted, settling face down, his hands settled on either side of his body. He could simply ignore her and continue with his rest… However, he stifled a grunt against the pillow and slowly made his way towards the front door.
“We're going to be late!” Bucky heard clearly as he approached the door, “Thomas is going to finish all the sandwiches,” she mumbled through her teeth and Bucky swore he could see her cross her arms as she said it.
He opened the door wide, his neighbour's eyes quickly locked on his, and her grumpy expression changed to one of joy at the sight of him. Though Bucky was not the epitome of happiness at the moment. He was sure his features were set in cement, like his frown and pursed lips.
“It's seven in the morning,” was all the man could say, still refusing to open the door entirely.
Bucky watched his neighbour grimace “I can't believe it,” her brow furrowed in disbelief, but with a hint of grace shining in her eyes.
“I texted you last night if you wanted to join me in celebrating the building's birthday,” the woman began, her body pushing Bucky aside to enter, who could do nothing but close his eyes in frustration as he stepped aside to let her pass, “You didn't reply so I took it as a positive silence.”
Bucky frowned, a few flashbacks from the night before furrowing through his memory. “You couldn't think that maybe I didn't answer because I was busy?”
“Are you busy now?”
“No.”
Damn.
“Yes,” Bucky tried to rectify.
He heard his neighbour let out a laugh, in time with her anatomy shifting in front of the kitchen in his flat.
“How long has it been since you've made dinner at home? Your dishwasher has cobwebs in it.”
“What do I need to make dinner at home for?”
The woman turned to look at him, a confused expression on her face, “To spend time with yourself?”
Bucky snorted, starting to move back to his room, that time to change, because he entirely doubted she would leave him alone now that he was inside his flat.
You watched him walk away, his shoulders squared in defence and his whole posture hostile. You already knew that Bucky was some kind of dark man, someone who was going through something but wasn't able to share it with others. You didn't blame him, not everyone was as chatty as you. You'd tell your secrets to a rock. But the point was, even though Bucky wasn't a talkative man (and you'd learned that well these past two weeks, even though you were already “friends”), you knew that somehow he needed a little human companionship. Everyone needs it, right? At least to keep from going crazy.
So you tried to give him that company often, but you were very careful not to overwhelm him. You could tell he was someone who was already used to being alone, who probably had a routine and total control over his life. Sometimes you wondered how he could hide his feelings so well and what kind of circumstances had led him to be like that. Or what kind of people…
In the distance, you heard the sliding doors of his wardrobe and the sound of hooks clanging against metal. You smiled triumphantly inside, continuing your thorough inspection of the natural habitat of the specimen in his room. You made a mental note to come over someday to help him with the grooming.
“What are we supposed to do?” You heard his voice through the masses of air. You rolled your eyes as you realised he didn't even try to pick up his phone to check your messages.
“Today marks 10 years since the opening of this building.”
“And that's my fault?”
“Let me finish,” you approached the cupboard. A stack of cereal boxes and canned food was what greeted you, “The building owners planned a breakfast, a barbecue for lunch and a big dinner in the evening for all the residents. Completely free of charge. It's a day of spending it together, in each other's company. These are things we used to take for granted, but, as you noticed, a lot has happened over the last few years.”
Bucky came out as you finished inspecting the fridge. “Now everyone wants each other's company.”
“And you want each other's company?”
“I'm just going for the food.”
Undoubtedly, you noticed Bucky crack a half-smile at your comment as he walked nimbly towards the door trying to evade your gaze. You smiled triumphantly, again.
“We've never talked about that,” you commented warningly, as you walked towards the lift after Bucky closed the door to his flat.
“We haven't talked about a lot of things, kiddo.”
“I mean the blip,” you replied bluntly, and watched him directly as he pressed the button to call the lift. He held your gaze for a few seconds.
“I disappeared. There's not much we can talk about.”
“We could share emotions.”
The lift arrived and Bucky stepped in without a word. You knew that was his way of snorting and evading a conversation without really needing to because of the same mental and emotional exhaustion that kind of talk caused him. So you didn't push. But you didn't have to try to revive the conversation either.
“Is Emmet coming?” He did it for you, surprisingly. It didn't happen very often.
You turned to look at him.
“I mentioned it to him and he said he was going to see if he could. He's got some business to take care of.”
Bucky just let out an affirmative sound, his head bobbing in time.
He was always that way, cautious when talking about your partner. You didn't really know the reason why, when he brought it up it wasn't for too long, and he also didn't feel like hearing much about things related to him or your relatively constant fights lately. That's why you stopped using him as your complaint box when you realised that he didn't really even listen to what you said. What you really thought was that he was trying to be nice; he was trying to start a conversation however he could about a topic he knew was of genuine interest to you.
It was the little details that really mattered.
The lift stopped on the first floor and the first thing Bucky noticed was the bustle of conversation among the people on the floor. Then he noticed the number of people equal to the noise that filled the room. His gaze swept quickly around the room, his classic scowl making its presence known as his neighbour rushed out of the lift to meet one of his friends from the building.
Bucky watched them from afar, his hands clasped at his sides and a look that kept people from getting too close to him. This allowed him to easily weave his way through the sea of people there.
To be honest, he was quite surprised at how many people lived in the building with him. He felt that he really only knew two, and he had met by chance about five at most, most of them in the lift. But he didn't know anyone on his floor, except for his extroverted neighbour who approached him with a plate full of sausages, chicken nuggets and a kind of ham and cheese rolled up on a wooden stick. All over the centre, a small cup with a white sauce and flashes of some green spice.
“You have to try the nuggets with this sauce, they're a delight!” you exclaimed with a smile before popping the aforementioned combo into your mouth and closing your eyes enjoying the explosion of flavours.
Luckily, before Bucky could try to refuse your offer, another of the building's inhabitants appeared to entertain you as he slipped away victoriously.
Reaching the back exit of the building, he could tell that there were still more people to be seen living in the place with him. The pool was empty, for now, but there were a considerable number of children running around it, hiding behind trees and eating together with their parents. Most of the families occupied almost every table in the building's gigantic courtyard, that Bucky could hardly find a remote one to sit at in relative peace.
He was actually surprised that he had gone so long without knowing that all those children lived in the building.
But hey, the less he knew, the better. He'd never know at what point he'd have to pack up and leave.
“You're good at sneaking out,” Bucky heard your voice approaching, and didn't even bother to turn around. He continued to scan the front, the city streets and the small shops that lined the streets nearby.
Before you sat down, you watched him. His hands were folded on the table, his posture less tense than before but still alert. You knew he had heard you, you knew more or less how to interpret his body language.
“I brought you some things I thought you might like,” you commented as you took a seat across from him, being careful not to deprive him of the view, whatever it was that captivated him so much about it.
“I didn't know there was a café there,” you heard him say as you arranged the small plates you brought on the tray. You turned to see what he mentioned, and sure enough, you saw the café you went to almost every day before you took the shuttle to work. They made the best cappuccino you'd ever tasted in the whole city.
“You've missed out on so much by being cooped up in your four walls.”
“My four walls are comfortable,” Bucky rebutted, his brow slightly furrowed, “Besides, I do go out.”
“Yeah, but you're too busy thinking about who knows what to notice the things around you. We could take a tour sometime, I know these streets well.”
“No, thanks,” he replied almost as soon as you finished speaking, as he took one of the cups of food you had brought him, “What's this?”
“Dulce de leche, I think.”
“It looks too sweet.”
“It is, but it's ultra delicious.”
“Have you tried it yet?”
“Yes, it's a recurring dish in Mrs. Mildred's kitchen. She lives on the third floor with her grandson and a little dog. She gave me a cup of the sweet stuff for my birthday last month,” you told Bucky, watching her from a distance. She was an amazing person; even with how little you had interacted with her you could tell.
“It's too sweet,” you heard Bucky say, his lips twisting into a pout. You watched him set the cup with the dulce aside, willing to turn a blind eye to it for the rest of the day.
“You definitely don't seem like the type to be a dessert fan. You should try Mrs. Maria's ham and cheese croissant. It's very fluffy, it has such a soft texture that you feel it melts in your mouth,” you commented as you approached the plate with the food you had pointed out to him, “She told me once that it's her grandfather's recipe; she told me that they don't taste as delicious as they did for him, but his children love them. And believe me, they're the best I've ever tasted.”
Bucky kept his eyes fixed on yours, for a little longer than you thought normal.
“So, you know everyone in the building?”
You smiled slightly.
“I like to think so. I know that Mrs. Sarah is a taco fanatic thanks to her husband Manuel, and that Mr. Alfred on the fifth floor hates Mrs. Mildred's dog, and that her grandson takes the little dog for a walk right around the same time Mr. Alfred goes out for his four o'clock walk. I also know Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer, they have two children, Veronica and Tom, they are big lawyers who live on the top floor of the building, the one with the biggest flats,” as you told Bucky about someone, you would discreetly point them out so he could recognise them and, strangely, it seemed like he was really paying attention to you.
“So yes,” you concluded after a while of introductions, “I know almost everyone in this building.”
“Am I excluded from that list? Because technically you do know me, we're not strangers.”
“Maybe not, but if someone asked me about you the only thing I could tell them would be your name and where you live.”
“Why would anyone ask you about me? You don't have to know everything about me to be an acquaintance.”
“You know a lot of things about me.”
“Against my will.”
“But you do.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. Little did you notice that, between your introduction and his short talk, he had finished almost every cup of food you had brought him. YYou were about to ask him if there was anything he wanted to repeat so you could bring it to him, when the crash of an object followed by an almost stony silence stole the show.
A boy had kicked a ball, which had hit Bucky's left arm.
His tension was instantaneous. You saw him go from a flaccid jelly to a stone in a matter of seconds. It seemed exaggerated to you how everyone stared at the place where you were sitting, waiting for the moment when the man would explode or something. You didn't know how, but it seemed incredible to you that Bucky had been able to deliberately ignore all the stares from the moment he came out of the lift to the moment he sat down at that table, to that moment. You had told him about the many people, mostly nobles, who lived there, but you had neglected to mention how indiscreet and gossipy the other part of the people who shared the building with you were.
You watched him warily, for his good humour had suddenly vanished. He was staring at the tray you had brought, not even showing signs of breathing.
“Trevor,” you heard a female voice in the distance, cautious and reprimanding.
You turned just barely to observe a boy, he couldn't have been older than 10, walking in the direction of the table where you were standing. You knew Bucky wasn't going to do anything, he would just stay like that until all the people dispersed, ignoring them and ignoring also his own feeling of running away, or he would wait for the right moment to leave the event and, most likely, not meet any of these people again for weeks.
You fervently hoped for the first option.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes,” you heard the boy say, the ball he hit Bucky with lying under his armpit.
You noticed Bucky turn to look at the boy, a little uneasy as he realised how many eyes were on him, as if expecting him to start screaming. All he did was give the boy a nod and the kid walked away with a smile. The children's shouting resumed and the people dispersed.
Bucky barely turned to see your surprised face.
“What?”
“That boy knows you.”
“Surely.”
“How? I thought you weren't talking to anyone.”
“Maybe he saw me at some point picking up the mail.”
You frowned. You were trying to play it down, and yes, it probably wasn't that important. You didn't know why it gave you a strange uneasy feeling.
“What's the matter, don't you like not being the only one who knows my full name?”
“Ha ha, that's funny, Barnes.”
“It's no big deal, I'm not a public figure or anything.”
You nod briefly, your mind trying to forget the subject quickly. No big deal, Bucky was most likely right.
“Anyway, we were just talking about how little I know about you.”
“Mmm, I think we were talking about the food.”
“Don't do that, Bucky. At least tell me your birthday.”
The aforementioned grimaced, “For what, you want to throw me a party?”
“No,” you replied. Bucky arched an eyebrow at you and you shifted in your chair, “Maybe.”
He stared at you, perhaps weighing what the consequences of saying it would be or thinking about how to get rid of you so he could get back to his room. He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumped and his gaze lowered.
“March 10th.”
“Funny, the same day as Chuck Norris.”
“Who?”
You shook your hands and head, “Never mind. Tell me what your favorite colour is.”
“You're pushing your luck.”
“I'm just trying to get to know you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to get to know me?”
“Why wouldn't I want to? You're my neighbour, and you're not as bitter as you want to make it seem.”
Bucky kept his gaze on yours for a few moments longer. You knew you were really pushing your luck, and while this wasn't the longest conversation you'd ever had with the man, it might be one in which you'd gone the furthest in knowing something about him, even if it wasn't so personal. Now you knew his birthday! And it was only a couple of weeks away.
Ignoring the icy expression that had taken over Bucky's face, you began to brainstorm ideas of how you could celebrate his birthday without it really being a super celebration. Bucky didn't seem like the type to celebrate with big parties… He didn't really seem like the celebrating type at all. But it doesn't hurt to have cake on the day of your birth anniversary. Thinking about a celebration made you think about people: what people did Bucky know that he liked to have attend his birthday party? Hm, in the hypothetical case there was one, of course. You barely knew the date, it was like the tip of the iceberg compared to knowing the people he surrounded himself with outside the building, apart from you.
Your lack of attention didn't allow you to notice Bucky's sudden change in attitude. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable out there, surrounded by all these people with cool lives and huge smiles. It was as if he felt… out of place. As if he didn't really fit into that painting that everyone was a part of on that artistic stage that was life. Including you.
Bucky didn't know what your sudden and intense interest was in knowing him. If your intentions really were genuine; if he really could trust you blindly, how could Bucky know that you were not a person sent to…?
He shook his head. Enough thoughts for today.
“You shouldn't,” Bucky's voice snapped you out of it, your gaze finally noticing his icy expression and his mouth twisted in displeasure. Seeing him like that so suddenly caused your stomach to flip. What had you done wrong?
“I think that's my decision,” despite feeling it was a completely wrong scenario, you kept your gaze steady on his.
Bucky was an enigma and you wanted to figure it out. Not as an experiment, not as a science project and not as charity, but just to deconstruct his persona and really know who the man was before society. The connection you felt with him was strange, ambiguous, but for a while you thought it was reciprocal. Maybe it was just one-sided. You're a good listener, so you've been told. Also that you talk too much, and that sometimes people prefer to let you be around them just so they don't bother you and make you think they care about you, when they're not really listening. Who's there for you when the night is darker than ever?
You didn't know if Bucky had that someone, but you knew he looked just like a person going through a very, very dark night.
His phone rang. Suddenly his attention was focused on something else as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. You watch his eyes sweep across the screen, the rush of emotions fleeting and rushing.
"Gotta go," he mutters without looking up from the screen. You felt it all happen so fast that you barely noticed when he got up from his chair.
“Okay, s-see you tomorrow,” you stammer, watching his figure walk away through the crowd without knowing if he really heard you.
Your heart felt heavy inside your chest. You felt fully aware of it pounding inside your body, your own chest closing in on itself, giving you a strange suffocating sensation you hadn't experienced before. But you couldn't stop thinking about him. What to do. How to do it. When. Where. How…
A hand on your shoulder startles you, your heart pumping wildly as you notice a woman beside you. Mrs. Sawyer, Tina Sawyer.
“I don't understand how you could get close to that man. I fear for your life every time I see you near him,” she commented graciously, as if she expected you to laugh or something.
You watched her with a frown.
“Don't talk about him like that, he's not a monster.”
Tina clicked her tongue, her hands moving in a nonchalant gesture. It made you incredibly angry that she was talking about Bucky like that, and why? She didn't even really know him.
“Relax. Just yell if you need help. The walls aren't that thick.”
“Tina, don't-”
“Ah! I remembered why I came,” the woman interrupted, a wicked grin forming on her face, “Your boyfriend's here. And he doesn't look too happy to have seen you sharing a meal with someone else.”
Amidst the masses of air, your gaze collided with Emmet's. Sadly, Tina was right. His body was leaning against a pillar of the building, right next to the door to the back exit. His scowl and his arms crossed over his chest were a clear sign of his annoyance, and for some reason, him being annoyed by that didn't give you the best of feelings.
But you sighed, tried to neutralise the look on your face and started to approach your boyfriend. You had a feeling that things were not going to get better from here.
the part where it gets weird (2)
summary: Bucky is trying to balance his life after making you a part of it, but there were still some walls he needed to work on
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
words: 4k
warnings: i think none? lmk if you think i should add one. also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!
note: i don't know how i got the inspiration, the cunning or the desire to write again. i feel like i have a weird relationship with it but i want to overcome it but i don't allow myself to. it's very strange and i hate it. but well, i was thinking very often about the first part of this and finally i could think of something harmonious to continue it. i hope you like it and i hope tumblr will make it reach more people this time.
- part 1: how to break a routine in one year
Bucky only knew that there was some sort of event. He awoke that Sunday morning to a constant pounding on his door, insatiable and irritating, followed by a female voice that, sadly, he had come to know all too well. His young neighbour had woken up early that day with the sole purpose of making him wake up grumpy and on the wrong foot; he had barely had three hours of sleep and felt like his body had been run over several times by a tractor-trailer. Did that feel like being sick? He couldn't feel it from the serum, but he thought it was something similar to how his body felt at that moment.
Bucky came to regret several times in those two weeks that he had made the decision to let that noisy neighbour into his life. Sometimes she was helpful, but other times she was too unwelcome, and though she didn't ask questions to fill the awkward silences around his half-told life story, Bucky knew she was dying to know what was really going on when his gaze wandered somewhere in the instance. Knowing that she had this curiosity made him too uncomfortable, sometimes he couldn't even bear it, but he knew he would have to live with it until the day he decided to tell her the truth or until he cut her out of his life for good.
Bucky… Bucky considered himself a man of patience. That life he lived in the shadows left him with a lot of bad things that he was still dealing with, and he would never dare say that anything good came out of it. There was nothing but heartache and suffering, both from himself and from the people he hurt. But patience was something that had endured in him despite all these upheavals in his life. As always, it was common for him to want to control every aspect of his life, a situation that required a great deal of patience to carry out with skill and perfection.
That Sunday morning, Bucky felt his patience hanging by a thread. He had heard something about an event being held in the building that day, when he arrived in the early hours of the morning where he lived, teenagers talking about it at the reception desk. He had a slight feeling that his neighbour had something to tell him about it at that moment. He sighed in defeat.
His body shifted, settling face down, his hands settled on either side of his body. He could simply ignore her and continue with his rest… However, he stifled a grunt against the pillow and slowly made his way towards the front door.
“We're going to be late!” Bucky heard clearly as he approached the door, “Thomas is going to finish all the sandwiches,” she mumbled through her teeth and Bucky swore he could see her cross her arms as she said it.
He opened the door wide, his neighbour's eyes quickly locked on his, and her grumpy expression changed to one of joy at the sight of him. Though Bucky was not the epitome of happiness at the moment. He was sure his features were set in cement, like his frown and pursed lips.
“It's seven in the morning,” was all the man could say, still refusing to open the door entirely.
Bucky watched his neighbour grimace “I can't believe it,” her brow furrowed in disbelief, but with a hint of grace shining in her eyes.
“I texted you last night if you wanted to join me in celebrating the building's birthday,” the woman began, her body pushing Bucky aside to enter, who could do nothing but close his eyes in frustration as he stepped aside to let her pass, “You didn't reply so I took it as a positive silence.”
Bucky frowned, a few flashbacks from the night before furrowing through his memory. “You couldn't think that maybe I didn't answer because I was busy?”
“Are you busy now?”
“No.”
Damn.
“Yes,” Bucky tried to rectify.
He heard his neighbour let out a laugh, in time with her anatomy shifting in front of the kitchen in his flat.
“How long has it been since you've made dinner at home? Your dishwasher has cobwebs in it.”
“What do I need to make dinner at home for?”
The woman turned to look at him, a confused expression on her face, “To spend time with yourself?”
Bucky snorted, starting to move back to his room, that time to change, because he entirely doubted she would leave him alone now that he was inside his flat.
You watched him walk away, his shoulders squared in defence and his whole posture hostile. You already knew that Bucky was some kind of dark man, someone who was going through something but wasn't able to share it with others. You didn't blame him, not everyone was as chatty as you. You'd tell your secrets to a rock. But the point was, even though Bucky wasn't a talkative man (and you'd learned that well these past two weeks, even though you were already “friends”), you knew that somehow he needed a little human companionship. Everyone needs it, right? At least to keep from going crazy.
So you tried to give him that company often, but you were very careful not to overwhelm him. You could tell he was someone who was already used to being alone, who probably had a routine and total control over his life. Sometimes you wondered how he could hide his feelings so well and what kind of circumstances had led him to be like that. Or what kind of people…
In the distance, you heard the sliding doors of his wardrobe and the sound of hooks clanging against metal. You smiled triumphantly inside, continuing your thorough inspection of the natural habitat of the specimen in his room. You made a mental note to come over someday to help him with the grooming.
“What are we supposed to do?” You heard his voice through the masses of air. You rolled your eyes as you realised he didn't even try to pick up his phone to check your messages.
“Today marks 10 years since the opening of this building.”
“And that's my fault?”
“Let me finish,” you approached the cupboard. A stack of cereal boxes and canned food was what greeted you, “The building owners planned a breakfast, a barbecue for lunch and a big dinner in the evening for all the residents. Completely free of charge. It's a day of spending it together, in each other's company. These are things we used to take for granted, but, as you noticed, a lot has happened over the last few years.”
Bucky came out as you finished inspecting the fridge. “Now everyone wants each other's company.”
“And you want each other's company?”
“I'm just going for the food.”
Undoubtedly, you noticed Bucky crack a half-smile at your comment as he walked nimbly towards the door trying to evade your gaze. You smiled triumphantly, again.
“We've never talked about that,” you commented warningly, as you walked towards the lift after Bucky closed the door to his flat.
“We haven't talked about a lot of things, kiddo.”
“I mean the blip,” you replied bluntly, and watched him directly as he pressed the button to call the lift. He held your gaze for a few seconds.
“I disappeared, just like you. There's not much we can talk about.”
“We could share emotions.”
The lift arrived and Bucky stepped in without a word. You knew that was his way of snorting and evading a conversation without really needing to because of the same mental and emotional exhaustion that kind of talk caused him. So you didn't push. But you didn't have to try to revive the conversation either.
“Is Emmet coming?” He did it for you, surprisingly. It didn't happen very often.
You turned to look at him.
“I mentioned it to him and he said he was going to see if he could. He's got some business to take care of.”
Bucky just let out an affirmative sound, his head bobbing in time.
He was always that way, cautious when talking about your partner. You didn't really know the reason why, when he brought it up it wasn't for too long, and he also didn't feel like hearing much about things related to him or your relatively constant fights lately. That's why you stopped using him as your complaint box when you realised that he didn't really even listen to what you said. What you really thought was that he was trying to be nice; he was trying to start a conversation however he could about a topic he knew was of genuine interest to you.
It was the little details that really mattered.
The lift stopped on the first floor and the first thing Bucky noticed was the bustle of conversation among the people on the floor. Then he noticed the number of people equal to the noise that filled the room. His gaze swept quickly around the room, his classic scowl making its presence known as his neighbour rushed out of the lift to meet one of his friends from the building.
Bucky watched them from afar, his hands clasped at his sides and a look that kept people from getting too close to him. This allowed him to easily weave his way through the sea of people there.
To be honest, he was quite surprised at how many people lived in the building with him. He felt that he really only knew two, and he had met by chance about five at most, most of them in the lift. But he didn't know anyone on his floor, except for his extroverted neighbour who approached him with a plate full of sausages, chicken nuggets and a kind of ham and cheese rolled up on a wooden stick. All over the centre, a small cup with a white sauce and flashes of some green spice.
“You have to try the nuggets with this sauce, they're a delight!” you exclaimed with a smile before popping the aforementioned combo into your mouth and closing your eyes enjoying the explosion of flavours.
Luckily, before Bucky could try to refuse your offer, another of the building's inhabitants appeared to entertain you as he slipped away victoriously.
Reaching the back exit of the building, he could tell that there were still more people to be seen living in the place with him. The pool was empty, for now, but there were a considerable number of children running around it, hiding behind trees and eating together with their parents. Most of the families occupied almost every table in the building's gigantic courtyard, that Bucky could hardly find a remote one to sit at in relative peace.
He was actually surprised that he had gone so long without knowing that all those children lived in the building.
But hey, the less he knew, the better. He'd never know at what point he'd have to pack up and leave.
“You're good at sneaking out,” Bucky heard your voice approaching, and didn't even bother to turn around. He continued to scan the front, the city streets and the small shops that lined the streets nearby.
Before you sat down, you watched him. His hands were folded on the table, his posture less tense than before but still alert. You knew he had heard you, you knew more or less how to interpret his body language.
“I brought you some things I thought you might like,” you commented as you took a seat across from him, being careful not to deprive him of the view, whatever it was that captivated him so much about it.
“I didn't know there was a café there,” you heard him say as you arranged the small plates you brought on the tray. You turned to see what he mentioned, and sure enough, you saw the café you went to almost every day before you took the shuttle to work. They made the best cappuccino you'd ever tasted in the whole city.
“You've missed out on so much by being cooped up in your four walls.”
“My four walls are comfortable,” Bucky rebutted, his brow slightly furrowed, “Besides, I do go out.”
“Yeah, but you're too busy thinking about who knows what to notice the things around you. We could take a tour sometime, I know these streets well.”
“No, thanks,” he replied almost as soon as you finished speaking, as he took one of the cups of food you had brought him, “What's this?”
“Dulce de leche, I think.”
“It looks too sweet.”
“It is, but it's ultra delicious.”
“Have you tried it yet?”
“Yes, it's a recurring dish in Mrs. Mildred's kitchen. She lives on the third floor with her grandson and a little dog. She gave me a cup of the sweet stuff for my birthday last month,” you told Bucky, watching her from a distance. She was an amazing person; even with how little you had interacted with her you could tell.
“It's too sweet,” you heard Bucky say, his lips twisting into a pout. You watched him set the cup with the dulce aside, willing to turn a blind eye to it for the rest of the day.
“You definitely don't seem like the type to be a dessert fan. You should try Mrs. Maria's ham and cheese croissant. It's very fluffy, it has such a soft texture that you feel it melts in your mouth,” you commented as you approached the plate with the food you had pointed out to him, “She told me once that it's her grandfather's recipe; she told me that they don't taste as delicious as they did for him, but his children love them. And believe me, they're the best I've ever tasted.”
Bucky kept his eyes fixed on yours, for a little longer than you thought normal.
“So, you know everyone in the building?”
You smiled slightly.
“I like to think so. I know that Mrs. Sarah is a taco fanatic thanks to her husband Manuel, and that Mr. Alfred on the fifth floor hates Mrs. Mildred's dog, and that her grandson takes the little dog for a walk right around the same time Mr. Alfred goes out for his four o'clock walk. I also know Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer, they have two children, Veronica and Tom, they are big lawyers who live on the top floor of the building, the one with the biggest flats,” as you told Bucky about someone, you would discreetly point them out so he could recognise them and, strangely, it seemed like he was really paying attention to you.
“So yes,” you concluded after a while of introductions, “I know almost everyone in this building.”
“Am I excluded from that list? Because technically you do know me, we're not strangers.”
“Maybe not, but if someone asked me about you the only thing I could tell them would be your name and where you live.”
“Why would anyone ask you about me? You don't have to know everything about me to be an acquaintance.”
“You know a lot of things about me.”
“Against my will.”
“But you do.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. Little did you notice that, between your introduction and his short talk, he had finished almost every cup of food you had brought him. YYou were about to ask him if there was anything he wanted to repeat so you could bring it to him, when the crash of an object followed by an almost stony silence stole the show.
A boy had kicked a ball, which had hit Bucky's left arm.
His tension was instantaneous. You saw him go from a flaccid jelly to a stone in a matter of seconds. It seemed exaggerated to you how everyone stared at the place where you were sitting, waiting for the moment when the man would explode or something. You didn't know how, but it seemed incredible to you that Bucky had been able to deliberately ignore all the stares from the moment he came out of the lift to the moment he sat down at that table, to that moment. You had told him about the many people, mostly nobles, who lived there, but you had neglected to mention how indiscreet and gossipy the other part of the people who shared the building with you were.
You watched him warily, for his good humour had suddenly vanished. He was staring at the tray you had brought, not even showing signs of breathing.
“Trevor,” you heard a female voice in the distance, cautious and reprimanding.
You turned just barely to observe a boy, he couldn't have been older than 10, walking in the direction of the table where you were standing. You knew Bucky wasn't going to do anything, he would just stay like that until all the people dispersed, ignoring them and ignoring also his own feeling of running away, or he would wait for the right moment to leave the event and, most likely, not meet any of these people again for weeks.
You fervently hoped for the first option.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes,” you heard the boy say, the ball he hit Bucky with lying under his armpit.
You noticed Bucky turn to look at the boy, a little uneasy as he realised how many eyes were on him, as if expecting him to start screaming. All he did was give the boy a nod and the kid walked away with a smile. The children's shouting resumed and the people dispersed.
Bucky barely turned to see your surprised face.
“What?”
“That boy knows you.”
“Surely.”
“How? I thought you weren't talking to anyone.”
“Maybe he saw me at some point picking up the mail.”
You frowned. You were trying to play it down, and yes, it probably wasn't that important. You didn't know why it gave you a strange uneasy feeling.
“What's the matter, don't you like not being the only one who knows my full name?”
“Ha ha, that's funny, Barnes.”
“It's no big deal, I'm not a public figure or anything.”
You nod briefly, your mind trying to forget the subject quickly. No big deal, Bucky was most likely right.
“Anyway, we were just talking about how little I know about you.”
“Mmm, I think we were talking about the food.”
“Don't do that, Bucky. At least tell me your birthday.”
The aforementioned grimaced, “For what, you want to throw me a party?”
“No,” you replied. Bucky arched an eyebrow at you and you shifted in your chair, “Maybe.”
He stared at you, perhaps weighing what the consequences of saying it would be or thinking about how to get rid of you so he could get back to his room. He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumped and his gaze lowered.
“March 10th.”
“Funny, the same day as Chuck Norris.”
“Who?”
You shook your hands and head, “Never mind. Tell me what your favorite colour is.”
“You're pushing your luck.”
“I'm just trying to get to know you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to get to know me?”
“Why wouldn't I want to? You're my neighbour, and you're not as bitter as you want to make it seem.”
Bucky kept his gaze on yours for a few moments longer. You knew you were really pushing your luck, and while this wasn't the longest conversation you'd ever had with the man, it might be one in which you'd gone the furthest in knowing something about him, even if it wasn't so personal. Now you knew his birthday! And it was only a couple of weeks away.
Ignoring the icy expression that had taken over Bucky's face, you began to brainstorm ideas of how you could celebrate his birthday without it really being a super celebration. Bucky didn't seem like the type to celebrate with big parties… He didn't really seem like the celebrating type at all. But it doesn't hurt to have cake on the day of your birth anniversary. Thinking about a celebration made you think about people: what people did Bucky know that he liked to have attend his birthday party? Hm, in the hypothetical case there was one, of course. You barely knew the date, it was like the tip of the iceberg compared to knowing the people he surrounded himself with outside the building, apart from you.
Your lack of attention didn't allow you to notice Bucky's sudden change in attitude. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable out there, surrounded by all these people with cool lives and huge smiles. It was as if he felt… out of place. As if he didn't really fit into that painting that everyone was a part of on that artistic stage that was life. Including you.
Bucky didn't know what your sudden and intense interest was in knowing him. If your intentions really were genuine; if he really could trust you blindly, how could Bucky know that you were not a person sent to…?
He shook his head. Enough thoughts for today.
“You shouldn't,” Bucky's voice snapped you out of it, your gaze finally noticing his icy expression and his mouth twisted in displeasure. Seeing him like that so suddenly caused your stomach to flip. What had you done wrong?
“I think that's my decision,” despite feeling it was a completely wrong scenario, you kept your gaze steady on his.
Bucky was an enigma and you wanted to figure it out. Not as an experiment, not as a science project and not as charity, but just to deconstruct his persona and really know who the man was before society. The connection you felt with him was strange, ambiguous, but for a while you thought it was reciprocal. Maybe it was just one-sided. You're a good listener, so you've been told. Also that you talk too much, and that sometimes people prefer to let you be around them just so they don't bother you and make you think they care about you, when they're not really listening. Who's there for you when the night is darker than ever?
You didn't know if Bucky had that someone, but you knew he looked just like a person going through a very, very dark night.
His phone rang. Suddenly his attention was focused on something else as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. You watch his eyes sweep across the screen, the rush of emotions fleeting and rushing.
"Gotta go," he mutters without looking up from the screen. You felt it all happen so fast that you barely noticed when he got up from his chair.
“Okay, s-see you tomorrow,” you stammer, watching his figure walk away through the crowd without knowing if he really heard you.
Your heart felt heavy inside your chest. You felt fully aware of it pounding inside your body, your own chest closing in on itself, giving you a strange suffocating sensation you hadn't experienced before. But you couldn't stop thinking about him. What to do. How to do it. When. Where. How…
A hand on your shoulder startles you, your heart pumping wildly as you notice a woman beside you. Mrs. Sawyer, Tina Sawyer.
“I don't understand how you could get close to that man. I fear for your life every time I see you near him,” she commented graciously, as if she expected you to laugh or something.
You watched her with a frown.
“Don't talk about him like that, he's not a monster.”
Tina clicked her tongue, her hands moving in a nonchalant gesture. It made you incredibly angry that she was talking about Bucky like that, and why? She didn't even really know him.
“Relax. Just yell if you need help. The walls aren't that thick.”
“Tina, don't-”
“Ah! I remembered why I came,” the woman interrupted, a wicked grin forming on her face, “Your boyfriend's here. And he doesn't look too happy to have seen you sharing a meal with someone else.”
Amidst the masses of air, your gaze collided with Emmet's. Sadly, Tina was right. His body was leaning against a pillar of the building, right next to the door to the back exit. His scowl and his arms crossed over his chest were a clear sign of his annoyance, and for some reason, him being annoyed by that didn't give you the best of feelings.
But you sighed, tried to neutralise the look on your face and started to approach your boyfriend. You had a feeling that things were not going to get better from here.
Fill Me Full
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB!Reader
Warnings: NSFW themes, Dirty Talk, AFAB!Reader, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink.
Rating: Explicit Sex, 18+
Word Count: 1,142
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
We had to get to the post office to mail my niece's books before her birthday. I had reminded him that I wanted to mail it a few days earlier. Today is the second to last day. I got up from the floor in the living room. It was wrapped with a bow and everything. Ready to roll. But Bucky wasn’t. I walked through the apartment, on the hunt for him.
“Where are you Bucky? I’m not playing games right now. We have to get there before they close baby.” I said desperately to get him to stop playing this silly game. My hands are placed on the bed behind me as I sit up.
As I stepped into our bedroom, I found him. Walking out of the bathroom, nude down to his navel. His vibranium arm held up the towel as it started to slip down his still drying body. Walking towards him, I smile and lean in and kiss him softly. He put his hands on my hips and pulled me in. Nibbling on my bottom lip, his hands dug in my hips. A soft moan flies out of my mouth as the sharp pain turns into a pleasant burn. I knew I would lose the fight to leave the house right now and I was alright with that, if he was planning to fuck me.
“Mm-Buck. We have to get moving." I say into the kiss, my voice desperate.
He groaned softly, putting his metal hand on the back of my neck. Pulling me in as close as he could, he ground against me softly. His towel slipped off his body and onto the floor, his semi pressed against my bare thigh. The feeling of his cock against my leg was driving me wild. I ground my hips against his, wetness pooling into my undies. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I looked up at him as he began to speak.
“I have a better idea of what we can do with our time." He smiled at me and put his hands on the curve of my ass.
Putting his face into my exposed chest, he kissed my skin. He tapped the back of my thigh and I jumped up into his embrace. He walked over to the bed, setting me down and getting on top. I reach up and put my hand on his face, brushing my thumb over his cheek. He kneeled before me, pulling my pants down and off. A soft moan escapes my lips. The touch of his vibranium hand on my hot skin was turning me on more than I already was. With my hand on the bed behind me, I sat up to undress. As soon as my shirt came off, he attacked my nipples with his skilled mouth. A whine hurled out of my mouth, my hand reaching to the back of his head.
“Oh-Fuck. Just like that!” I moaned, my hips jutted up against his, seeking friction.
Bucky chuckled, put his free hand down my chest and down to my clit. Gently massaging it in circles, he nibbled my nipples at a steady pace. My hips stutter as they try to rub against his fingers. His thumb found the rhythm, his finger entered me and began to gently thrust. My back arched, the slight sting of his finger quickly ebbed away.
“You like that baby?” He responded, his mouth travelling to the other nipple. His other hand was playing with the nipple that was covered in his spit.
“Yes! Yes.” I moaned loudly as his vibranium hand gently tugged on my exposed nipple.
“Yes, what doll?” He stopped sucking on the bud for a moment, dragging his nails down on my breast, thrusting another finger inside. His deep voice got darker as he stared me down.
“Yes daddy! Oh-Fuck!” I whined as he thrust another finger inside. Propping myself up onto my elbows, I try to push my hips against his fingers.
“Good girl, I can’t wait to fill you up with my cock. Would you like that?” He growled, moving from my nipples to put his attention to my pussy. His two fingers glided in and out wonderfully, so he added a third finger. I choked out as I looked up at him.
“Y-Yes daddy! Fill me to the brim.” My whole body arching as he added another finger. Feeling full, I was ready. I wiggled my hips, the added friction making me pant.
“P-Please daddy, I’m ready.” I whine.
“You definitely are, taking my fingers so well. Here we go baby.” He grunted softly, lining his cock at my entrance. A quick thrust and he sheathed himself completely inside me, his tip hitting the entrance to my cervix. He put his hands on my hips. My head tips back, the stretch making my pussy clench around him.
“Oh daddy-” A moan hurtling from my lips,”M-move please.”
Bucky moaned as he pulled out to the tip and then thrust back in. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I groaned as he began a rhythm. He leaned and kissed me as he sped up. His soft moans and groans were fueling me.
“That feels so good! M-more!” My voice getting higher with each thrust of his hips against my pussy. I put my hand on my chest and snaked it down to my clit. My moans and whines become almost mumbled.
“You feel so good baby. Such a pretty pussy for a slut. I’m gonna breed you all day.” The words coming out of his mouth were making me want to cry with how wonderful it sounded.
“F-Fuck yes daddy! Breed me like the slut I am.” The heat was slowly coiling in my stomach as he pounded into me.
My face scrunched as I focused on all the sounds he was making above me, his panting and moans. Chasing my incoming climax, I dig my fingers into his shoulders. As I got to the cliff of climax, I opened my eyes.
“I-I’m close! P-Please can I cum? My body was aching for release.
Getting closer, his voice is getting breathy drops. "Yes slut, cum on my cock." He said. His grip on my hips tightened, his thrusts getting sloppy. My climax hit hard, my legs and body shook as I rode the wave. He continued his thrusts and with a growl, he came deep inside. His thrusts slowed down as his wave slowed down. Propping himself next to me, he scooped me up.
“You did so well, doll. Now we have to wait. Hold the cum as long as you can. Understand?” He put his on my cheek, making me look up at him. I smiled and said confidently.
“Yes daddy.”