Grab a snack,

Bucky Barnes was too old to be into his best friend’s daughter, but that never stopped him from hating every single boyfriend you’d ever brought home. In fact, hate was an understatement. He loathed them. Your dad couldn’t even fathom the vitriol Bucky seemed to harbor for every man interested in looking your direction, but he didn’t complain. Bucky kept shitty men away from his daughter. Why would he have a problem with that? 

The unfortunate side effect of Bucky’s hatred was that boyfriends didn’t tend to stick around very long. And you weren’t going to admit this, but he always ended up being right about them. They were shitty men, but you wanted attention as much as the next girl, and that was hard to find sometimes. 

All of this information played in the back of your mind as you watched the taillights of your boyfriend’s car speed out of the parking lot you had just been abandoned in. It was after midnight, and the area wasn’t necessarily a safe one. You weren’t even supposed to be in this fucking parking lot, and now you had no way of getting home unless you wanted to walk or call Bucky, which was out of the question. 

Bucky would narc on your whereabouts as soon as he could, and you were not losing the rest of your summer because of a stupid boy. Though, it would be nice to see Bucky again. He’d been hanging around less and less since you’d come home from college, and it was beginning to feel personal. Maybe you could convince him to keep your secret for you. Either way, you needed a way out of this sketchy parking lot. 

“Shit.” You murmured, rolling your eyes and stomping with a dramatic, over-the-top huff. Bucky would’ve laughed and called you a kid for doing it, but it felt right given the circumstances. This entire situation felt so embarrassing, and you hated to tell him he was right. You called him, nonetheless. 

He picked up before the second ring could finish. 

“Hey, doll. You okay?” 

His voice, raspy with sleep, sent goosebumps skittering down your spine. Doll. You tried not to blush into the phone. 

“Hi Buck,” you murmured, “I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“It’s fine, doll. Where are you? I thought you were at the library with Brad. Chad? What was his name again?” 

You snickered. He knew very well your now ex-boyfriend's name but couldn’t bring himself to say it. It didn’t matter now anyways. 

“Yeah, about that,” you sighed. “We didn’t exactly go to the library. We got into a fight. I don’t know where he went, but he left.” 

“Doll, where are you?” 

His voice was much more alert now. You could hear him shuffling around in the background, probably looking for clothes to put on. 

“I’m fine,” you reminded him, biting your lip. “I just need a ride home.” 

“Tell me where you are, right now,” he demanded through gritted teeth, and because you were so good at listening to him, you did exactly that. 

When Bucky pulled into the parking lot, he looked less angry than you were expecting. Worry painted his features, a stark contrast from the usual laid-back expression on his face. Worry faded into relief when he made eye contact with you. He was out of the car wrapping his arms around you faster than you could blink. 

Your attention snagged on the grey sweatpants he was wearing, unable to keep your eyes from drifting down his tall figure.  

“I’m gonna kill that guy,” Bucky mumbled into your hair, squeezing you against his chest. “He just left? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Buck. Thanks for picking me up.” 

“Of course, Doll. Let’s get you home, okay?” 

Bucky didn’t take you home. He took you to his home, which was much more preferable than trying to sneak into your dad’s house so late at night. The drive home had been quiet, likely due to the late hour, but also because Bucky was stewing in the driver’s seat. The longer he thought about your boyfriend abandoning you basically on the side of the road, the more upset he got. 

What confused you the most was that his anger seemed to be directed mostly at you. It was as though having you safe and sound in his car made him more furious about the entire situation. He’d barely looked at you since getting in the car, and it was driving you insane. 

When he pulled into his driveway, neither of you moved to get out of the car. He put the car in park, huffed, and then finally looked at you. He didn’t say anything, which made it all the more awkward for you. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you said, “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” 

He scoffed. 

“How many times did I tell you he would hurt you?” 

It was your turn to scoff. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you said. 

You were lying through your teeth. It became his business as soon as you asked him for a ride so late at night, but you were too chicken to admit that out loud. His eyebrows shot into his hairline before he barked a laugh. 

“None of my business? Doll, everything you do is my business. How many times have you come running to me when a boy hurts you? It’s Bucky’s job to pick up the pieces, but never to make you feel good, right? Is that it?” 

“Oh, please,” you said, ignoring the spark of pleasure that shot through your body when he mentioned making you feel good. Claustrophobia overwhelmed you in the car. Being so close to Bucky’s handsome face and alluring scent launched your hormones into a frenzy every time you took a breath. He was everywhere and you couldn’t think straight. You shot out of the car, slamming the door behind you as you stomped away.  

Bucky was right behind you, calling after you in a way that made your knees wobble. He gently closed his car door, sighing when he realized you were waiting for him by his front door. 

“You’re right,” you mumbled, ignoring his searching stare as he unlocked the door and waved you forward. “It’s not fair to you, but you don’t have to say it like that.” 

“Someone ought to,” he snapped. “Look at me.” 

You turned away, purposely avoiding his gaze. 

“Doll, look at me.” 

He stepped in front of you, gently cradling your chin. 

He whispered, “Look at me, please,” and because you were so good at listening to him, you did. 

“Beautiful.”  

He said it so quietly that you weren’t sure he meant for you to hear it. You froze under his watchful gaze, which flicked down to your lips and back up again. 

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” He breathed, caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You wanted to stay a lot longer than one night. 

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, glancing at your lips again. “I can’t want this.” 

Suddenly, he was halfway across the room, fists clenched at his side. The sudden absence of warmth sent a shiver through you. He was so hot and cold that it was getting hard to keep up. 

“Buck-,” you started, but he was moving again, and then his lips were on yours. 

He groaned into the kiss, a desperate noise that mirrored your own desire for him. His arms wrapped around your waist, ferociously tugging you against his chest. You moaned into his mouth as swiped his tongue over yours. 

“I’ve wanted to do this-,” he said, before kissing you again, unable to keep away now that he tasted the forbidden fruit, “-the entire summer.” 

You could tell that he meant it. He kissed you like he meant it. 

“I know I should feel bad,” he said, lifting you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist, “but I don’t. This feels fucking amazing, doll.” 

“Bucky,” you moaned, whimpering when he attached his lips to your neck, nibbling at a spot that sent heat directly to your core. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, breathing into the crook of your neck. “Tell me you want me too,” he begged, nearly whining. 

You were glad he was holding you up because you would’ve fallen to your knees at the sound of his whine. He gripped your waist tightly, waiting for your answer. You pressed your lips against his, wondering why it took him so long to finally admit that there was something between the two of you. 

“I want you, Bucky,” you murmured against his lips, “I’m all yours.” 

He smirked. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said before slamming his lips against yours. 

His bed was soft. You’d imagined lying in it a million times; underneath him, atop him, on all fours – but you’d never thought about how soft it would be. You’d removed your shirt halfway to his bedroom, throwing it in a random direction because you had to feel his skin against yours. He’d thrown you on the bed, tugging your pants down your legs in one smooth motion, and now he was standing at the end of the bed, watching you squirm beneath his gaze. His fingers lightly grazed your ankle, tickling. 

“What is it?” You asked, crossing your arms over your exposed breasts. 

“Don’t do that,” he chided, clicking his tongue. “Don’t hide. I want to see all of you.” 

You slowly uncrossed your arms, exposing yourself to him. He sucked in a breath, slowly lowering his gaze from your face to your body. 

“Can I touch you? Taste you? Fuck you?” He asked finally, and you nearly moaned at the rasp in his voice.  

“Yes,” you moaned, “please.” 

He didn’t waste any time, dropping his face to your core and swiping his tongue through your folds. You nearly bucked off the bed, but he held you down, groaning against you. 

“Oh, fuck, Bucky,” you moaned, arching your back. “Don’t stop.” 

His tongue was a glorious feeling against your skin, sucking and nibbling at your sensitive core. You’d never felt this good while getting head from anyone else, and you doubted you ever would again. He wound you up tighter and tighter until heat pounded in your core and you couldn’t remember which direction was up. 

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, doll,” he murmured between licks, kissing your mound as you quivered beneath him. 

“Please, Bucky,” you whined, heart pounding. 

“Please what, baby?” He asked, tilting his head. He was teasing you, and you were putty in his hands. 

“Please touch me. Please. I’m so close,” you mewled, squeezing your eyes closed. A desperate tear escaped as he teased you mercilessly. 

“Since you asked so nicely, baby,” he said, finally swirling his tongue around your clit. 

You exploded beneath him, gasping at the pleasure as it radiated through you. Wave after wave of your orgasm crested, relieving the pressure that had been building since the very first moment you’d seen Bucky in the parking lot earlier. You squirmed beneath him, grasping at the sheets before you finally wound your fingers in his hair, tugging. 

“There you go, doll,” he murmured, coaxing you down from your high, running his fingers around your thighs in a soothing motion. “You’re so pretty when you come.” 

You heaved, heart thundering in your chest. His cheek rested against your thigh, watching you come back to yourself. Slickness coated his chin, and you nearly came from the sight of him alone. His eyes, usually an icy blue, were dark oceans of desire, waiting patiently for a sign that you were ready for him. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” you panted, “I should’ve called you a long time ago. That was insane.” 

His eyes briefly darkened - the only indication that he was still upset with you for being so blind to his feelings – before he blinked it away, smirking. 

“I’m not done with you just yet, doll,” he murmured, slowly inching his way up your exhausted body.  

He trailed up your stomach, lightly pressing his lips to your soft skin and relishing the feeling with each kiss. When he made his way to your sternum, he paused, nuzzling his head to your chest. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered, breath fanning across your exposed nipples, hardening them almost painfully. He hovered there for a moment, waiting for your consent again. “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you.”  

You hazily blinked, trying and failing to focus on his words when his mouth was so close to your breasts.  

“Can I have you, doll?” He asked, a ghost of a whisper. “Will you let me have this part of you? Will it be enough to satiate the need I have for you?” 

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or to himself, but you didn’t care. Heat was coiling in your gut once again. His words alone were enough to elicit a whine from your throat. 

“Will you still look at me in the morning the way you’re looking at me now?” He asked, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingertips. “One night will never be enough, but I won’t complain if it means you’ll have me tonight.” 

You whimpered, unable to voice the desire you felt for him. He was everything you’d ever wanted and more. 

“You’re mine,” he murmured, licking his lips. “All mine, tonight.” 

“Always, Buck,” you gasped, arching your back so that his lips were even closer to your chest. “I’m yours, always.” 

A genuine smile crossed his face, so sweet and obvious in its joy that his next movement sent a shock through your entire system. His tongue flattened against your breast, drawing a tantalizing line from your nipple to your collar bone before he kissed your throat. The sudden contact from his warm mouth sent you over the edge for a second time, clawing at his back for more, more more. 

Grunting, he slid into you mid-orgasm, eliciting a moan from deep in your chest. You’d never felt so full before, and you loved it. You arched your back, begging him to move. No more waiting or teasing. You needed him everywhere, and he was more than happy to oblige. 

“Shit, baby,” he cooed, warm breath heating your neck, “you feel so good.” 

His need for you was visceral and endless. He pounded into you with such passion that your body couldn’t do anything except hold on and enjoy the ride. He teased, and nipped, and laughed into your skin as your bodies came together, an act of vulnerability you had never experienced with anyone before. 

Not to mention how much he talked during it. He sang praises against the column of your throat, calling you the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, claiming he didn’t deserve the attention you were giving him, wishing he could stay this close to you forever. His words were overwhelming and incredibly seductive, breathing life into you as he sent you crashing over the edge, a showcase of pure greed for your pleasure. 

He kissed you like he’d never get to kiss you again, begging another and another and another off of you, worshipping the softness of your lips and the heat in your gaze. He couldn’t get enough, holding you against him so tightly when he came that you could feel it in your bones. 

“Breathe, baby,” he cooed, peppering your cheeks with kisses as your mind reeled with pleasure. “My pretty, pretty girl.” 

You didn’t think you’d ever come down from your high, but eventually you blinked and could see the ceiling again. Tears sprung from behind your eyes, another emotional release that you didn’t quite understand. 

“That was so good,” you exclaimed, more tears escaping down your cheeks. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Bucky.” 

Bucky wiped the tears away, kissing the streaks they left behind. 

“I’m not mad, doll,” he said simply, shaking his head. 

“I’m an idiot,” you sniffled, “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” he scoffed, and though he was smiling, you could tell he was serious. “Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. Just stay with me tonight, and we’ll figure everything else out tomorrow, okay?” 

“Everything else?” You questioned, blinking away the last of the tears you’d shed. 

He smirked, unable to hide his glee when he said, “I don’t know how I’m going to look your dad in the face after what we just did together. How do I tell him I’m in love with his daughter? He’s going to kill me.” 

It was your turn to giggle as Bucky flopped onto his back, running his hand over his face in a pitiful manner. He hadn’t even realized what he’d said, which sent a shock of butterflies through your body. You decided to keep that little secret to yourself, enjoying the playfulness in his gaze. 

“I think that’s a problem for tomorrow,” you commented, stifling another laugh. 

“Too true,” he joked, shaking his head, “I’m way too old to be up this late.” 

He gently tugged on your arm, pulling you toward him so that you were straddling his waist. He cradled your hips, running his fingertips along the skin he’d worshipped earlier. 

“I have some bad news about that,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss the crease that formed between his eyebrows. “I’m starving.” 

He grinned, nipping at the skin beneath your collarbone. 

“I have some bad news about that,” he repeated, smirking. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he said, “I’m starving too,” and kissed you so sensually that heat sparked deep in your core again. 

He grasped your hips tightly, grinding your sensitive mound against his already hard member. 

“Oh,” you tutted, smirking, “I guess we can put off breakfast for a little longer.” 

“You’re sure?” He questioned, arching an eyebrow at you. 

“Oh, yes,” you assured him. 

Bucky Barnes was too old to be into his best friend’s daughter, but that never stopped him from hating every single boyfriend you’d ever brought home. Every single boyfriend besides one – he sort of loved the last one for sending you in his direction, but he’d never admit that out loud. 

Tag List:

The world felt a haze of delirium, your body bent over, legs spread, knees pressed against the mattress and your head pressed into the pillow.

The room’s air was heavy with the warmth of your body pressed against his. No sound other than the soft slapping of your bodies joining together.

Each thrust was slow, deliberate and measured only in a way the man behind you knew how to.

James Barnes had spent months memorising your body, committing you to memory. Any semblance of a thought that a mobster only sought his own pleasure had rapidly vanished within days of agreeing to sleep with the man.

Since he had taken advantage of every moment alone. Showering you in affection, slow kisses, fingers that lingered on your thighs, unmoving and teasing. Then finally, finally, you’d end up here, on his soft mattress, the midnight blue quilt thrown aside only to return later when he carefully covered your bare form in its warmth.

“Bucky,” your voice is no more than a whine. His hips grinding against your arse, pushing himself firmly against your walls.

“Shush,” you feel his skin press against your lower back, hands on your sides. The cool metal of his left hand soothes the sweaty warmth of your skin. “Just enjoy yourself.”

Your back arches off the mattress, head lurching up, fingers tight against the cotton beneath you as you feel him withdraw before snapping forward again.

“Fuck,” his voice is low, gravelly. A clear indication of his own arousal. His hands are tight against your hips and he repeats the action, sliding out slowly, building friction before snapping forward so fast the bed groans in protest.

“Need more,” he murmured to himself. Suddenly you feel lighter, his weight no longer against your lower back. Suddenly his hands are on your wrists, pulling them up behind you. 

Your body shifts up, his thumb and fingers holding your wrists together behind your back, pulling you until his chest was parallel with his.

“Better,” his lips were at your ear. “Can you feel that, baby?”

His flesh hand brushed your side moving forward between your hips where the pressure from him was continuing to build with the new angle.

“Can you feel me?”

You make a choked noise as he brushed a soft spongy spot inside.

“You can, can’t you?” He continues to goad you as your head falls back to rest onto his shoulder, seeking support. “Absolutely dripping for me. Holding me in place, like you don’t want me to go. Do you want me to go?”

“No,” your voice is broken, your throat catching at the end.

“Didn’t think so,” he is smug, and begins to move. His hips work you forward and backward, pulling in and out in a steady rhythm. Your body responded, arching further into him, your head laid back across his shoulder as you glanced up to the ceiling, your mouth hanging open helplessly unable to prevent the moans and soft exhales escaping you.

“James,” you plead. “Please.”

“I know,” his mouth runs over your cheek. His loose hair tickled your jawline. “You wanna cum.”

You squirm, a poor attempt to adjust yourself to ease the steady ache that was building.

“God, you’re desperate,” he chuckles. “Is this what I do for you, baby? Does your mob boss make you wanna scream?”

You whimper, your voice sounding pathetic. “Yes. Please, please.”

“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely—“

His hips now move faster, his dick driving into you, hard. Each thrust hitting that spot with incredible precision. His flesh hand moved down, catching onto your swollen clit allowing it to move between his fingers, rubbing it in time with his sharp thrusts.

Each thrust sent your spiral further, your body no longer felt under your control, and all you could do was feel what you were being given. You could hear yourself babbling incoherently as your body shook and warmth flooded you.

“Fuck,” his teeth clash together, continuing to plunge in and out faster, now seeking his own climax. He let out a groan, his hands indenting themselves into your hips. His body trapping your own hands between the two of you, as you feel the soft throb and the warm liquid flood your insides.

Abruptly, he pushed you down onto the mattress, withdrawing from you so quickly you found yourself flinching.

“Bucky?” You attempt to roll onto your back but feel this hands on you, holding you in place.

“Stay,” he instructs.

You hear the shuffle of feet, the running of a tap before the footsteps return.

“On your back,”

You automatically roll onto your back, head against the pillow, blinking at the sight before you.

He knelt between your legs, the faint light filtering through the long windows. His skin appeared white, almost ghostly, the metal of his arm shining slightly and the blue of his eyes seemed paler than usual.

In his hand, he held a warm flannel and began soothing the redness between your legs without a word.

“James—“

“Not a word, sweetheart,” his eyes remained on his task. “I’m busy.”

“You don’t need to—“

His eyes snapped up to you, fierce and focused.

“Don’t try and tell me what to do,” his lips twitched. “We’ve been over this. You’re mine. Including caring for your body.”

With a smooth motion, he throws the flannel aside and leans into your leg, pressing a kiss into your inner thigh.

“There, that’s better,” he hums and climbs to hover above you. “Had enough, sweetheart?”

Your fingers lace into his hair, running through its length from behind his ears to the back of his neck. Even now, with a slight sheen of sweat covering his skin and pieces of hair falling out of his usual perfect slick back look, your voice was caught in your throat at his beauty.

Bucky smirks, recognising the look on your face.

“Admiring your man again, baby?” He leaned down, his nose bumping yours.

“I—” you blink. “You make it hard to think.”

He laughs then, his head tilting back slightly, giving you a view of his neck that your eyes lingered on a little too long.

“Good,” he grins. “I don’t want you to think, when we are like this. I want you to feel.”

His lips brushed your a moment before speaking again.

“I want you to feel good,” his head falls to press his forehead on yours. “To enjoy every moment of this.”

“I do,” you promise. “It’s almost addictive.”

“Mm,” he ponders in agreement. “Yes, it is.”

His mouth falls on yours, kissing you with an intensity that makes you dizzy, then withdrawing fast.

“And that’s how my brothels make money,” he sits above you, towering, eyes dark. “Sex pays. In more ways than one.”

“Bucky?” You voice is hoarse.

“Would you try something with me?” Even in the dark room, lit only by that coming through the window, you could see how dilated his pupils were.

You nod.

Bucky leans over, swooping you up with ease and turning you until your neck hangs over the edge of the mattress whilst your body remains flat against the sheets.

His hands move lower, grasping your thighs to pull your legs around his waist.

“Perfect,” he murmurs above you.

You breathe unsteadily, the new position sends blood rushing to your head. Suddenly everything felt more intense, you could feel the his muscles next to your thighs, the shoulder blades that your fingers clung onto in an unnecessary attempt to stop yourself from falling.

“Now you will get addicted,” he rumbles. You feel him pushing at your entrance, hard already, still wet from the previous round and allowing his entry with ease.

Your back arches, as your choke on nothing at the sensation racking your body as he sinks in. He wasn’t quick nor painfully slow, he simply moved until he was fully seated.

“Fuck,” your head attempts to lift up to peer up at him.

“Stay down,” his voice is smooth, hands on your shoulders to keep you in place. “Just feel it.”

Your head slowly dropped back, a soft ache built in your neck as he began to move — gently rhythmic thrusts that stretched your sensitive skin. Your body reacts instinctively to each movement, greeting him with fervor as your nails dung into his skin.

“Yes,” he grunted. “Just like that.”

You let out a loud cry when he grinds his hips into yours, trying to push himself further into you.

“I’m gonna stay here,” you hear him speak through clenched teeth. “Can you do that for me, baby? You can keep me warm all night, can’t you?”

A soft moan escapes your lips in response, your mind is thudding from your position, your torso held a knot of tension in place that refused to snap, your legs and hands clung to him as though your life depended on it.

“I know, I know,” he gives a sharp thrust, metal hand reaching over to pet your head, running cool fingers over your sweaty forehead and through your hair. You cannot contain the breathy sigh of relief at the feel of the cool metal. “You’d stay like this all night if I asked you.”

His voice was soft, warm. The side of him he only showed the most intimate of moments.

“Maybe, some day I’ll allow it,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “You spread across me, my cock buried in you as you sleep on my chest.”

He hums softly in approval, his hands shifting again to grasp your calves from behind his back over his shoulders.

“With you there, I could sleep in peace,” he admits, carefully bending you almost in half. “We might wake up sore, but we’d be satisfied.”

Bucky takes a moment, pulling out gently.

“But there is more than one way to be satisfied,” his voice turns focused.

Suddenly, he builds momentum forcing your body to accept him with every hard thrust. Your voice grows hoarse as you cry out, until you find yourself making no noise at all. You head hung back, eyes rolled as you feel the knot of tension finally releases as your hips jerk up.

Bucky doesn’t speak, and merely continues. His teeth are clenched with concentration as he thrusts once, twice and then groans as you feel the throb of him as he joins you in bliss.

The room fills with the sounds of breathing, your eyes flutter shut, and you feel the cool of his hand against the back of your hand.

Even in pleasure addled state, you are vaguely aware of him lifting you back onto the bed, and the ache in your neck begins to each as you gently ar replaced on the pillows.

“Mmm,” you hear him hum, and allow your eyes to flicker open seeing naught but the ceiling. You shift onto your side, facing him and laying your leg on top of his.

You see the faint trace of a smile on his face, his arms welcoming you against the warmth of his chest.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper into his neck. “I just need you.”

“Okay,” you hear the tiredness in his voice. “We can have a bath… tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you agree quietly, inhaling his scent through your nose and allowing your eyes drift shut for the night.