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heavysoldat · 2 years

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it’s really you (on my mind)

best friend’s brother!bucky barnes x fem!reader

(gif by me)

inseparable since middle school, it was no surprise that you ended up falling for your long-time best friend. what was surprising, was who you actually ended up with at the end of the day.

warnings: SMUT (unprotected vaginal sex, blowjobs, face fucking, finger fucking, dirty talk, name-calling, slightly public sex, consent checks, breeding), angst, insecurities, language, very small age gap, hurt/comfort, a little cheesiness.

(this is highly inspired by something i watched a while ago, that i cannot remember for the life of me)

A two-week long vacation between two families can go one of two ways: completely fine and dandy, or a total fucking disaster mid-way through.

This one time, it’s not so perfectly black and white.

Your feet are covered in wet sand, sliding through your flip-flops and even found home in the bottoms of your bikini. It doesn’t help, how they drag along the hot pavement on your way back to the shared beach house.

The crash of the screen door hitting the wall is the last thing on your mind, shaking body making it harder to walk as you storm through the living room, hell-bent on landing upstairs with a crash land onto your temporary mattress. You’re practically dizzy with embarrassment, shame, anxiety and fear— feeling like you just swallowed an entire bottle of Adderall mixed with coffee.

Your own anxiety blinds you from your surroundings— so the sudden, jarring feeling of a hand stopping you via a grip on your wrist is enough to have you letting out a shriek.

“Hey! Hey!” Bucky calls, a lighthearted chuckle gracing his voice, “What’s the hurry?”

You’re breathing shallow and fast, heartbeat practically pounding in your chest; you’re crumbling in on yourself. You try to cover it up, try to calm yourself down, but the shakiness in your breathing and palms is enough to blow your cover.

“Noth-nothing,” You stutter, barely meeting his gaze. “I’m just- tired, and wet, I just wanna take a shower.”

He goes quiet, smile leaving his features. His eyes are scanning you, scanning you with a softness you rarely see from him. Always the cooler, more aloof, older guy— fresh out of college, hurdling closer towards his future than you’ve ever been. It’s rare; rare that he speaks like this, rare that his voice isn’t threaded with incessant teasing and sarcasm.

With one look down to your shaking hands, fiddling with each other nervously, he steps closer.

“Hey,” His voice is soft, “What’s goin’ on? You’re shaking.”

“Nothing.” You insist— but the tears threatening to spill from your eyes tell a different story.

Bucky grabs your trembling hands, holding them together, “Take a deep breath. Calm down.”

After staring down at his feet, lulling it over in your head, you let out a shaky, trembling breath. You continue, deep, in-and-out, until it’s smooth. Until it’s not withering in your lungs. Until it’s not an uphill battle.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Bucky asks, slowly letting go of your hands, letting them fall to your sides.

You watch as he leans back against the marble countertop, on the side next to the bar stools. You rub your right arm with your left hand, still trembling, but at least breathing.

“It’s- uhm,” You’re struggling to get past the wall of anxiety that’s flooding you. “I asked- I asked him out.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, staring at you with the prompt to elaborate.

“Beckett.”

His eyebrows raise in knowing. “Finally?”

“What?”

He laughs humorlessly, picking at the loose thread on his Baja hoodie. “I mean, I can’t say I didn’t see it coming? I honestly expected you to do it sooner.”

Your eyes grow sad, scared and wary.

“It wasn’t obvious, or anything,” Bucky retracts, hoping to calm you down, “At least, like, not to him. No offense to him, but... my little brothers fucking oblivious. Honestly.”

You hum in response, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

You shake your head.

“That’s... really surprising.” His voice raises in pitch, eyebrows going back up. “I mean, I- I always thought, he had a thing for you. I think we all thought it. That’s why, well, I-“

“Really?” You cut him off- tugging on your lip harder when he nods. He watches as your fingers grab onto the skin of your arm harder, pinching it between your fingers with unease.

“Do you want a hug?” Bucky asks, voice soft, eyes soft, but with uncertainty.

You nod, almost childlike, immediately melting when he pulls you into a tight embrace. The fabric of his jacket is enough to warm you, fingers folding into it to pull him tighter.

“I’m getting your jacket wet,” You mumble, muffled, head buried in his chest.

He blows a raspberry, mouth vibrating against your hair, “I don’t care.”

It’s the constant throbbing in your brain— the fear of you being you that keeps dragging you down. The fear that you weren’t good enough, weren’t hot enough, weren’t funny enough. It has you crying softly against his chest, rough sniffling muffling with the fabric.

After a few, long, heavy moments of you rotting against his chest, slightly calmed by the constant rubbing he’s providing to your arms, you finally manage to pull yourself away.

Rubbing a tear from your cheek, you gulp. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Hey, what?” His voice strains, “Don’t say shit like that. It’s not personal, I fuckin’ swear. You didn’t- you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s his own shit. That doesn’t mean you fucked up, or-or you’re fucked up.”

Your eyes continue to water, your wiped away tears still making your cheeks sticky and hot. You still can’t look at him, even when he’s holding you, even when he’s guiding you.

“Then why does it keep happening?” Your voice is barely there. Barely a whisper.

“What?”

You swallow, thick in your throat, sucking your bottom lip in behind your teeth.

“This- it’s the second time I,” You breathe, “I just keep getting turned away, rejected, I feel… I feel so fucking stupid.”

“You’re great. You’re... you’re fun, and you’re smart, and you’re- you’re hot.”

That has you scoffing. It’s not in disdain for him, not in anger— but in sorrow and pity for yourself. The frown on your face is bigger than your own eyes.

Sensing the tension, the anxiety, he asks: “Do you want to sit down?”

When you say yes, he guides you to the long, L-shaped couch in the corner of the room. Sitting down with you, letting enough space sit between you two so it’s not awkward— but not enough that he can’t comfort you.

“You’re not- you’re not unlovable, or unattractive, or whatever is going through your head right now.” He reassures you, still rubbing your arm with his thumb, “I swear to god.”

When you look at him, you can’t help but feel the words bubbling at your throat, giving you heartburn and scorching your mouth like vomit.

“It was you first.”

First, he’s confused. His eyebrows furrow, his eyes squint, his body tenses. “First?”

But when it hits him, it hits him.

“Oh.” He gasps, “Oh.”

You turn away, staring at the wooden floor poking out from between your feet.

“You never- I never- That’s impossible. I never, I couldn’t have rejected you. You never said anything.” He rambles.

You shake your head.

Oh.

His eyes soften.

The years of him dating his past girlfriend; Dot, was her name. They had met in college, hit it off quick, and swallowed up two years of your life. The Instagram photos, the times she slept over, her insistence on PDA and flaunting him anywhere she can— it ate you up. It broke your heart.

“I didn’t know. You didn’t- you never said anything.” He stutters, voice still soft. He sounds sad, almost regretful. He sounds saddened for you and himself. “I’m... I’m sorry. I always thought... I thought you and my brother...” He explains, dread filling his lungs like air.

Your face only saddens, swallowing thickly. You can’t help but feel your lip quiver, fingers beginning to tremble again.

“Did you actually?” Bucky asks, slowly.

You nod. “Yeah... yeah.”

Bucky can’t help but go silent. He takes a moment, takes a second to really process it, staring off into space next to you for moments before he speaks. The silence kills you, it’s painful, it’s murderous, almost violent in the way it hits you— almost threatening to draw tears from your eyes once again, finally looking at him.

“I wouldn’t have rejected you.” He states, finally, eyes closed. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I... I liked you too, you know.”

“What?” You ask, almost like your flabbergasted by the idea that he would even think about seeing you that way. You’re younger, you’re behind him, you’re from a different world— not even in his peripheral vision.

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “I just, I thought you liked Beckett, so I never- I never said anything. And even- and even if that wasn’t the case, I didn’t want to make it awkward, didn’t want him to hate me for ruining your friendship or something.”

“So you...” You trail off, trying to collect your thoughts, “You were into me, before Dot?”

He chuckles, dry and nervous. “I mean- It’s... it’s shitty, but, I did even while I was with her.”

You’re staring, eyes blank, eyebrows raised, finding yourself trying to soften your breathing again. “Do you, still...?”

“I mean...” Laughing awkwardly again, he leans his elbow on his thigh to rub at his forehead, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Really?” Your voice is hopeful, a smile appearing at the sides of your mouth.

“Yeah.” He laughs again, but this time, it feels genuine. “I mean- have you looked in the mirror? That swimsuit you’re in today is enough to drive me to fucking drink. And it’s not just because you’re hot, you— you’ve been taking up my mind, like. constantly. Every time we talk, I walk away so fucking...” He lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Satisfied.”

That has you almost crying again, but for a completely different reason. You’re laughing, wetly, trying to pry your eyes away from him despite the fact that you can’t. He squeezes your arm, reminding you that you’re still connected.

When you turn back to him, he brings his hand to your cheek, wiping some stray, wet hairs out of your eyes. His hand lands to cup your cheek, just to hold you.

“Can you kiss me?” You find yourself asking, before you can even think about it.

Bucky’s taken by surprise. It has him almost acting immediately, before he roots out his worries.

“I’m not...” Fingers trailing your face, “I’m not taking advantage of you, am I?”

You giggle, heart beating warm from his care. You shake your head. “No. I promise.”

Slowly, he leans in. He places a tentative, experimental kiss to your mouth— lips barely even pressing against yours. You grab his face, pulling him in, swallowing his mouth in yours. It has him grunting and moaning against you, hand moving to your back to pull you in closer.

After exploring each other’s mouths, practically eating each other whole, Bucky pulls away:

“What about- what about my brother?” He asks, out of breath.

“I don’t- I don’t care about him,” You breathe heavy, nose rubbing against his, “It was you first. It still is.”

He basks in your words like they’re the sun, a grin exploring his entire face and crinkling his nose. He brings you in again; has you moaning and gasping into his mouth, hands holding onto his stubbled jaw for dear life. He can feel his body vibrating, his stomach wrapping up in knots as the familiar, cold desire spreads up his spine; the same one that is spreading throughout your core.

With your body pressed so close to his, getting closer by each minute- you can feel his length under his sweatpants, growing harder with each kiss. He apologizes, pulling away from you.

You’re trying to catch your breath, “Don’t be.”

You lean down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck, fingers trailing down his clothed chest with the same rhythm. Feeling his fingers itching near your ribs, you grasp your hand in his, bringing it to cup your clothed breast.

Bucky groans as he squeezes the mound of flesh— he’s quick to pull down one of your bikini cups, head moving quick to bring his mouth to your nipple. He wraps his lips around the bud, suckling onto it as he massages the rest of your breast.

That has you tossing your head back, letting a moan out into the air- “Fuck.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, mumbling against your bust.

“Yes,” You whine, “Fuck yes.”

With him sucking on your exposed tits, you brush your hand down, palming his cock overtop of his pants. He groans against your nipple, pausing his movements at your distraction.

When he stops, you pull him away from your tits, grasping his face in both of your hands.

“I want you in my mouth.” You confess, breathless.

That has Bucky groaning again, cock throbbing in his pants. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” You whine, “I wanna suck your cock. Please.”

How could he ever say no to that?

With his approval, you lean your head down almost immediately. You pull down his sweats, exposing his boxers, which are removed just as quickly. His cock; hard, leaking and pink at the tip smacks against his clothed stomach. You wrap your hands around his length, suppressing the moan threatening to spill when you realize you can’t even touch your fingers around his width.

When you give your first experimental lick, he’s moaning, head tossed against the couch; “Fuck.”

Bucky’s hand moves to wipe the hair out of your face, watching as you wrap your lips around his cock and slide him down your throat. He’s grunting, moaning at the sight; unable to keep his eyes away from you, despite how they threaten to close.

He’s salty in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat as you bob your head up and down. Your hand massages the part of his length you can’t fit down, feeling the way he’s throbbing against your palm.

One thing you’ve learned is that Bucky is extremely vocal. He can’t keep his mouth shut— between grunts, moans and whimpers, he’s letting out an entire symphony above you, free hand gripping the couch so tightly his hand turns white.

You lean up to grab his hand, pressing both of them at the back of your neck as a signal.

He stares into your eyes, big and round above his cock, “Are you sure?”

You hum against his cock, making him grunt.

“Fuck, okay.”

Bucky grips your hair between his hands, spreading his legs enough to let himself balance. He starts slow; pushing and pulling you up and down his cock, groaning at the feeling of your tongue moving around his tip.

He gets faster, fucking your face within minutes. You’re gagging around him, spit trailing down onto his pants, tears slipping from your eyes to mix with your already wet face.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl.” Bucky moans, “Takin’ it so well. You like my cock down your throat? You like letting me use that little mouth of yours?”

When you moan at his words, he can’t help but laugh.

“God, I know you do,” He gets faster, grunting harder, “I can tell. Such a little- fuck, little whore, lettin’ me use her like this- I love it, shit, I fuckin’ love it.”

He pulls you off of him with a wet pop, whining at the loss of your mouth- despite the fact that he’s the one who caused it.

“C’mere.”

He’s quick to pull you up, pulling you onto his lap. You can feel his cock against your stomach; but before you can react he pulls you back against his mouth, moaning at the taste of his precum against your tongue.

Bucky pulls the other cup of your top down, freeing both of your tits to the air conditioned breeze. He slides his hands down your stomach; tickling your skin, before it slips underneath your swim trunks.

His fingers rub on your folds, smiling when he finds you already soaked.

“You get that wet just from suckin’ me off?” He asks, after pulling away from your desperate mouth.

“Uh-huh,” You whine, “Can’t help it.”

He coos, rubbing your cheek with his free thumb, “I know you can’t, baby.”

Bucky’s fingers catch in your hole, slipping inside with ease. He’s able to fit two in with your provided slick, soaking his fingers and sliding them right in. His thumb flicks at your clit as his fingers scissor inside of you, pumping in and out.

You bury your face in his neck, desperately grinding against his fingers with heavy moans against his neck. That only makes him get faster; pistoning inside your heat with abandon, hitting that spongey spot inside of you with ease.

“You want me to fuck you?” He breathes, strain in his voice clear. “Want me to fuck you right here on this couch, where anyone could fuckin’ walk in and see you?”

You whine, “Yes, fuck, please.”

When he pulls your trunks to the side, he slips inside of your wet heat easily.

Bucky groans at the feeling of your fluttering core clenching around him, harmonizing with your whimpers.

He pulls you up by your chin; softly, stroking your cheek with his hand, despite how it shakes with pleasure. “You okay?”

You nod, “Mhm. I’m okay. Please move.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your awaiting lips.

Bucky starts off slow— a tantalizing, torturous grind, barely even moving inside of your cunt.

“Mm, I know, honey.” He coos, after you whimper impatiently against his skin, “I gotta- fuck, gotta go slow. Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, if I go any faster I’m gonna blow my fuckin’ load already.”

That has you moaning. That image: him filling your cunt, having him leaking out of your folds and onto the couch, over top of your trunks— it fulfills this primal desire in your stomach, making you even more desperate than you were before.

“Oh fuck, do you like that?” Bucky asks, almost shocked, “You like the idea of me fillin’ that little cunt?”

You nod, whining.

“Fuck,” He moans, drawn out in a long groan. His thrusts get faster; he’s grabbing onto your waist, pulling you down against him so he can piston into your cunt from below. You’re loud, moaning into the air as his heavy balls slap against your ass. “God, you’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand draws down to beneath your pants, rubbing your clit in circles.

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky grunts at the sight, “Look so pretty gettin’ yourself off like that, shit, yeah, make yourself cum on my cock. That’s fuckin’ it.”

You’re bouncing on top of him without even moving, tits moving rapidly in front of his face, hair flowing every which way with the fast movement. You’re so close, so desperate to that rope finally ripping, tearing inside of your core in the most delicious way.

Bucky’s sounds of pleasure fuel your need, getting you closer to that edge, hurdling, hurdling, hurdling, until—

“Fuck, Bucky, fuck!”

You’re crashing. Falling down off the cliff into a bone rattling orgasm, cunt clenching so hard around his cock you’re suffocating it. Your legs are twitching, trembling around him, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking you through it, using you to get himself off- now that he no longer needs to worry about you coming.

“Oh god, baby, gonna fuckin’ cum,” He grunts, “Can I really come in you? Fuck, you gonna let me?”

His voice is so genuine, it has you turned on all over again.

“I’m on the pill, please. Please, fill me up.”

You lean down, whispering, whining encouragement into his ear, practically pleading for him to spend his load deep inside your cunt.

When Bucky cums, he cums hard. His balls slap against your ass one last time, burying himself deep inside of you. His legs are trembling, burying his face into your neck to muffle the yells he’s letting out, almost completely against his will.

“Oh,” He moans, voice trembling like his limbs, “Oh god.”

“Mhm,” You whine, brushing his hair in your fingers.

You two stay there, wrapped in each other. You can feel his cum dripping out of you already, running down your leg to stain the grey fabric of his sweatpants; which undoubtedly need a thorough washing now.

You feel Bucky leaving soft, gentle kisses against your jawline, up to your ear, cheek and nose, then finally planting one on your lips.

“You okay? Was that okay?” He asks, brushing your hair from your face.

“Mhm.” You hum, again, “Was really good.”

He smiles, genuine and soft. “Good. I’m glad.”

You giggle, bringing him in for another kiss by the back of his head, more sloppy this time.

“Hey, uh,” He says after he pulls away- much to his own dismay, “As much as I’d love to just stay here, we should probably move. They’re gonna be comin’ back from the water, soon.”

“Oh- shit, yeah, right.” You laugh, letting out a harsh breath. But when you move to get up off of him, he pulls you down, wrapping your mouth in another harsh, tongue-filled kiss.

“Sorry, just had to do that one more time.”

#me naming his brother beckett because it's the closest to rebecca </3 #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #my writing #why is writing kissing scenes so hard??#i dont know how many different ways i can describe sucking tongues

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treatbuckywkisses · 8 months

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Blood Sweat and Tears

Boxer!Bucky × Reader

Summary: In which Bucky has a questionable hobby

Warnings: 18+ (it's my blog so fuck off that's why) Cursing

Word Count: 984 (i can only write so much you guys)

A/N: okayyy this has been sitting with me for the absolute longest time ever! it's currently after 1am here, and ive been completely mia for way too long, sooo I'm deciding to post this right now😭 there is no way in hell I could be doing any of this without any of my sweet friends on here but I want to especially shout out @sweetdreamsbuck and @writing-for-marvel for inspiring me and encouraging me through this🥹 i love you guys so much and I can never thank you enough for all you've done for me since i joined this place<3 (yall already know the moodboard was made by me)

God you hate time. You hate looking at the clock, what feels like every five minutes, only to find it's been maybe two at the most. Especially on days like today; the days Bucky fought.

Bucky.

Your stomach aches thinking about him being in the ring later.

He is such an incredible boxer, one of the best in the city actually. But that knowledge did very little to ease your nerves about his hobby.

You've seen what he can do, and you love watching him practice. The way every muscle in his body flexes when he throws a hit, sweat running down every inch and crevice, flying off him like rain drops. The sounds he makes when he lifts weights and the pants he lets out when he hits a punching bag—everything about it - about him is mesmerizing.

You loved it just as much as you hated it. You knew Bucky could handle himself, especially in the ring, but you worried anyway. You always worry. Anything could happen up there and you couldn't stand the thought of him being seriously injured. Your over-thinking got the better of you and nothing could make you feel better. Nothing except seeing him yourself after the fight.

Most fight days, you're torn–constant anxiety looming over you. You think only the worst first, every little (and not so little) way he could be hurt. The bad outcomes are endless if you really let yourself think about them. Bucky never lets you get too far down that rabbit hole though, always reminding you he loves what he does and that helps him to be the best.

Interrupting your thoughts, Bucky starts coming down a hallway–which you know leads to the locker room. Where he's been hiding and getting himself ready for tonight; doing some warm-ups and wrapping his knuckles, and whatever else his pre-fight routine entails.

When he steps in the light of the gym people immediately start to cheer for him and he breaks out in a grin, his nose scrunching up in the most adorable way, raising his gloved fist in the air.

He really does love this. And you'd never underestimate how much he does again. You only had the one time, you were just upset really, but after a broken nose, mild concussion and many scrapes and bruises, you'd say you were allowed to be. Even after all that you'll never forget what he had told you when you asked him why he chooses to do this to himself.

"Well.. I like it. I like the way it makes me feel, you know? It's freeing in a sense, like how some people meditate? When I'm up there, it's like nothing out of that ring matters just for a moment, and I don't have anything to worry or think about. It's just me, and it feels good. It's exhilarating. It's like this good insane feeling I can't really describe, but I love it. I can't imagine not doing it." He spoke with so much emotion that you almost forgot about his many injuries that night.

You can't help but smile at the sight of him, no matter how many times you see his introduction. He's wearing his robe, a livid blue-gray color with 'Barnes' in black across his upper back. It's a shiny material–not a glittery one, and he's got his hood up on his head.

He hoists himself up on the platform and splits some of the ropes to duck between and step over, and finally he's on the canvas mat.

His hood is off now and you can tell he's scanning the room for you. A smile of endearment is on your face and it only grows bigger when he finds you and shoots you a wink.

Buckys opponent for todays match enters as he did previously. Once they're introduced to the gym, they bump gloved fists for a show of good sportsmanship before they start.

When Bucky's up on the platform he’s the only thing in the world that matters. Your eyes never leave him for a moment. He's enchanting.

Once the fight begins though, a slight grimace stays on your face. Your brows are furrowed and your lips are parted the smallest bit, hands grasping and fidgeting with his dog tags that dangle from around your neck. You wear them for Bucky on fight days, "safe keeping," he said once.

When he fights, you don't watch quite the same way as when he's practicing. Your focus is on holding your breath every time a hit is thrown his way. It's a sigh of relief when he dodges or blocks but a distressed sigh when he takes the hit with all the force it's been given to him.

Bucky is damn good at what he does but you can't help but fret. You're not always sitting but you're at the edge of your seat for the whole match watching Bucky and whoever he's fighting dance around the ring. You can never tell how long the matches last, supposedly it's different each fight with each opponent, but to you they were all the same.

You felt like time wasn't moving and like it was speeding around you at the same time. This could be torture if Bucky didn't look so good. Truthfully though, sometimes you didn't even pay attention. You only found yourself thinking about what nasty cuts you'd be cleaning up and how many bruises he would have later, staining his skin for weeks at a time.

You shiver at your own thoughts and blink your focus back on Bucky in time to see him land a punch on his opponent. A soft smile makes its way onto your face as you admire the pure and genuine excitement on Bucky’s beautiful face when he's announced the winner of the match. And come on, how could you argue with that?

He makes the worry worth it.

#fayth writes?#fayths moodboard #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #boxer!bucky #kisses if u see this

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