THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | God Help The Girl

Don't Touch the Tech Girl

Summary : Sam told Bucky that you, his new tech engineer, was off-limits. But that just makes Bucky want you more.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x engineer!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Lots and lots of sexual tension, sexual themes, workplace power dynamics, Fluff!!!! Canon-compliant-ish. cursing. Sex is mentioned and described but nothing too graphic. Small mention that Bucky used to smoke.

Word Count : 5.7k

Notes : Hi all! I will post my series soon, but for now, I am focusing on one shots because I am in the process of moving flats! Also, some tag requests has been buried under comments, so please message me/or shoot me an ask if you'd like to be tagged! Enjoy!

You weren’t born into privilege, not handed your brilliance by name or legacy. You were forged by curiosity, tenacity, and a drive so relentless it kept you awake at night designing theoretical blueprints for machines that didn’t exist yet. While other kids were watching cartoons, you were trying to figure out how the animation worked.

You were the kind of brilliant that couldn’t be taught. The kind that made people uncomfortable. The kind that made people notice.

After the blip, Wakanda needed help to rebuild.

You were in your last year of doctoral research when Shuri found you. You'd written a paper on vibranium-adaptive circuitry— not for application, just out of scientific obsession. She read it, tracked you down and showed up in your lab without fanfare.

“You know this theory would work,” she said, scanning your schematics. “You’ve already solved a problem most people can’t even pronounce.”

You blinked, still in awe. “You’re Princess Shuri.”

The next few years were a blur. You worked in Wakanda, helping design and restore crucial systems. You helped lead the research initiative for post-Blip infrastructure. You reverse-engineered Stark-tech, collaborated with Griot before taking a lecturing gig at MIT.

There, you mentored a long list of young brilliant minds, including Riri Williams.

And yet… something felt off.

Despite everything, you felt caged. 

Then you realised, ever since Wakanda, theory wasn’t enough for you. You were a hands-on person now. You needed problems to solve. You missed the adrenaline, the mess of a work table.

You missed the smell of soldered wires, the constant whir of active prototypes, the thrill of fixing tech that was actively falling apart.

That’s when the offer came from Sam Wilson and Joaquin Torres. 

The new Captain America and his chaos-prone Falcon needed a tech engineer for their field equipment, specifically their state-of-the-art wing packs.

They asked around, and Shuri had personally recommended you.

“Trust me,” she told Sam, “she’ll do more than fix it. She’ll make it better.”

Sam finally reached out, officially.

“The government engineers hate me,” he confessed over the first video call. “You might be our only hope.”

You liked them immediately,  and the job was exactly what you’d been missing.

It felt alive, unpredictable, high-stakes, high-tech, and high-risk.

So you packed up your comfortable teaching post at MIT. Said goodbye to pristine labs and overly polite faculty meetings and stepped into a small ops base that felt more like a rich family’s garage than a government facility.

And that’s where you met him.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky to his friends. 

You have heard of him before, of course. Shuri called him her second favourite white boy, just behind Everett Ross. In fact, she saw him as a brother more than anything else.

You didn’t know it yet, but he was about to become your favourite problem.

—

You were muttering curses at Redwing when you first met him.

The drone had fried its microthruster mid-flight, and of course, no one bothered to tell you until after Sam crash-landed into a water tower.

So now, it was 10:43 p.m., the base was dead quiet, and you were hunched over your workbench, coffee long cold, hair pulled back like you meant business.

“Alright, you little bastard,” you muttered, soldering iron in hand. “Spark in the wrong fuckin’ direction again and I’m rewriting your personality subroutines to a roomba.”

“That’s one hell of a threat,” a voice behind you drawled. 

Unaware of a second person in the room, you jumped slightly in shock, finishing the adjustment with a quick twist of your tool. “Either you’re good at stalking,” you said, glancing over your shoulder, “or terrible at announcing yourself.”

He shrugged. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

You clocked the metal arm— and you knew it was Bucky Barnes. The former Winter Soldier, looking every bit the part with a black shirt and dark hair tucked behind his ears. Sam must’ve called him in for some field work, maybe on-ground support for tomorrow's mission.

“You always lurk in corners?” you teased.

He tilted his head. “Do you always talk dirty to drones?”

That earned a laugh from you as you wiped your hands on a nearby rag. “Only the ones that misbehave.”

His eyes darted to your grease-streaked hands before he saw Redwing flickering online.

“Sam said you were good,” he said, whistling low. “Didn’t say you were this good. Redwing’s been dead for two weeks, and you’ve got him up again in what—a day?”

You shrugged casually. “I like working with things that don’t talk back.”

“That’s gonna be a problem.”

“Why’s that?” You narrowed your eyes. 

“Because I do.”

You didn’t look away, lips curving up into a sly smile. “I can handle it.”

That earned you a grin. He stepped closer, just across the workbench now. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel.

His eyes dropped to the drone. “You re-routed the thermal sensors.”

You arched a brow. “This your idea of flirting?”

He looked up, blue eyes gleaming with excitement. “Would it work if it was?”

Your laugh came easy, but your fingers didn’t stop moving. “Depends. You as hands-on as you look?”

He didn’t answer— not right away. He just moved around the workbench until he was behind you.

Then he whispered, “Try me.”

Your heartbeat thumped out of your chest, but your hands stayed steady. Only barely.

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on someone working with high-voltage components,” you let out a small laugh, warning him of more than just the circuitry. “I might shock you.”

Before he could say something even cockier, Sam opened the door and entered the room. “See you’ve met our new tech girl, Buck.”

You flinched slightly, and Bucky moved back.

Technically, Sam was your boss. 

So technically, Bucky was your boss’ best friend.

And that was a bad idea, right?

—

It started small.

The flirting was inevitable— of course you were attracted to each other.

He was your type, you were his type. It wasn’t exactly rocket science.

But it wasn’t just… that. 

He… actually made the effort to get to know you. You became friends first. He asked about your life: What made you tick. What pissed you off. What you did when no one was watching.

You gave him pieces of yourself.

And he gave you… things. Like a Eurasian Jay trying to mate by giving nuptial gifts.

The first time, it was totally casual. He gave you a protein bar post-mission.

“Figured you skipped lunch,” he said, tossing it onto your desk without meeting your eyes too long.

You were elbows-deep in Sam’s pack diagnostics, but you looked up. You arched your brow.

“Did Sam send you to make sure I didn’t pass out?”

“Nope,” he said, already walking away. “I’m just naturally thoughtful.”

You stared after him.

Thoughtful. Right. 

That was the word we were using now.

The next week, he got you coffee, just the way you liked it. Down to the brand and milk-to-caffeine ratio.

You mentioned it off-handedly a couple days ago, and he remembered. 

“Just happened to be in the area,” he said, leaning against the doorway like it wasn’t a forty-minute drive from where he lived.

You eyed him over the rim of your cup. “The base is not on the way to anywhere.”

“I took the bike,” he shrugged, “Made good time.”

You tried not to smile, but failed.

The week after that, he gave you a tiny gear charm on a thin, silver chain— clearly handmade, probably by him. It looked crooked, but it was beautiful to you, with teeth like a puzzle piece.

“Reminded me of you,” he said, like it was nothing, all while short-circuiting your entire nervous system.

You held it up between two fingers. “Because I’m small, stubborn, and get jammed in places I don’t belong?” You offered an explanation if he wasn’t brave enough to admit it.

He grinned, not denying it. “You said it, not me.”

You should’ve told him to knock it off. Maybe set some professional boundaries. You really should’ve.

Instead, you let him put the chain around your neck and wore it under your shirt like a dirty little secret. 

The next week, he lingered longer and leaned in closer. He watched you work with that look— focused, and if not a little possessive. He had his hands in his pockets, thumb tapping against his belt like he was holding something back.

You glanced at him. “You trying to get something, Bucky?”

He tilted his head, deadpan. “Yeah. You.”

You almost dropped your wrench.

You coughed and laughed at the same time—half-flustered, half-shocked. “Fuck. Just lead with it next time.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

After that, the flirting escalated. 

But… neither you nor him would do anything about it. Not while Sam was watching, anyway.

You’d be wrist-deep in tangled circuitry, and he’d pass you a screwdriver, letting his fingers brush yours just a second too long.

He’d stand behind you, “supervising” while you calibrated Joaquin’s flight pack— and he was close enough to feel his breath to ghost your shoulder, close enough that your body went still and hyper-aware of every little movement,

By month three or four, everyone was catching on.

One morning, Joaquin stood in the break room, sipping his coffee, nodding toward the door.

“Why does Bucky come here when we don’t need him on a mission?” he asked under his breath, eyes darting toward the man near your workstation. His arms were folded, eyes glued to you in a fitted tank top that was definitely not regulation.

Sam didn’t even bother to look up from his tablet. “Because he’s trying to get laid.”

Joaquin choked on his coffee. “Dude.”

“Which is why we’re keeping an eye on him,” Sam just sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like this whole situation was giving him a headache. “Because if we lose her, we’re screwed. You know how hard it is to find someone who can keep up with our gear?”

—

Fifteen minutes later, Sam found Bucky walking in the hallway. “We need to talk.”

Bucky didn’t even slow his pace. “If this is about the vibranium plate I broke—”

“It’s about you trying to rail our tech engineer.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s... direct.”

“I’m serious!” Sam glanced around, lowering his voice but not his tone. “She’s brilliant. Like—Stark-level genius with none of the god complex. Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

“She is impressive,” Bucky admitted, which was code for: she’s been living rent-free in my fantasies for months.

“She’s more than impressive,” Sam snapped. “She’s irreplaceable. And if you screw this up—you’re gonna ruin the best hire I’ve made in years.”

Bucky stopped walking, folding his arms. “You think I’m gonna what, ghost her?”

“I know you,” Sam pointed, though he had to mentally compartmentalise to ask how he knew what ghosting was later. “You’re looking at her like she’s the last cigarette on the planet, and I know you haven’t smoked for like, six years.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You really sat with that one, huh?”

“You can’t unfuck someone at work, Barnes. I’ve lived this,” Sam shot back. “Base hookups never end clean. And if it goes sideways, I lose my tech lead and you lose the one person who knows how to recalibrate your arm without needing a manual.”

There was a beat of silence, and Bucky almost looked thoughtful.

“So…” he started, “You’re saying I should commit.”

“I’m saying—” Sam dragged a hand down his face. “Jesus, no. I’m saying do not touch her. She is vital to the team. To our equipment. To my sanity. She’s not just someone you can have a fling with, she’s infrastructure.”

Bucky tilted his head, amused. “You just compared her to a bridge.”

“She is a bridge! Between functioning tech and whatever disaster Joaquin brings back from the field. I swear to fuck, if you make things weird—”

“You’ll what?” Bucky asked, liking the challenge.

“I will get Shuri to reprogram your arm to slap you every time you look at her.”

“You’re really making this sound more appealing,” Bucky mumbled under his breath. 

See, Sam had made a big mistake.

Huge.

Because if there was one thing Bucky Barnes couldn’t resist, it was a challenge.

And by making you officially off-limits, he just wanted you more. 

He hadn’t even planned on catching feelings —he didn’t even know if he had the capacity for real ones anymore— until you. 

Annoyingly smart and stupidly hot. And underneath all that genius and grease-stained sarcasm was someone who actually made him want things.

So, what did he do?

Exactly what he wasn’t supposed to.

—

After the talk, Sam became a human firewall.

Every time you and Bucky were in the same room, Sam was there, supervising like he was running a daycare.

Once, you were just trying to update Redwing’s targeting algorithm.

Bucky was trying to hand you a wrench.

And Sam was standing six feet away, arms crossed, pretending to scroll through something on his tablet.

“Can I help you, Cap?” you asked, eyes flicking up.

“Nope,” Sam said. “Just observing.”

“You know you don’t need to be here right?” You chuckled. You knew he just got back from a mission, and he could use some rest. “You can take a break.”

“Bucky doesn’t need to be here, either.”

You didn’t even look at Bucky, but you felt the smile he was fighting off.

Bucky leaned in anyway, a bit too close for Sam’s liking under the guise of pointing at the display.

“Think this line’s pulling too much voltage,” he said.

You tilted your head, lowering your voice to match his, and so your boss couldn’t hear. “You just want to whisper in my ear.”

He nodded subtly. “And you like it when I do.”

“Barnes.” Sam’s voice cracked like a whip. “Step back. Let her work in peace.”

Bucky backed off with a dramatic sigh.

You… didn't notice.

Or if you did, you didn’t comment then. You just kept being you— and that was enough to do unspeakable things to Bucky's self-control.

He’d pass you a tool with his human hand on your lower back. You’d bite your lip when you were concentrating and not realise he’d stopped listening to the briefing entirely.

But every time Bucky tried to sneak in even a halfway flirtatious line, Sam was right there.

“Hey, you need help with the cooling matrix?” Bucky asked one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder just enough to smell your shampoo. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

Before you could answer, Sam spoke up. “She’s good. She doesn’t need help. She’s very capable.”

You turned to blink at him. “I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

“Just making sure Tin Can remembers,” Sam muttered, sipping his coffee.

It only got worse from there.

Team debrief? Sam sat between you two.

Lunch break? Sam invited himself to sit directly across from you and stare Bucky down like he was a teenage boy trying to date his daughter.

Mission prep? Sam suddenly needed you for private discussions that lasted just long enough to make Bucky grit his teeth.

Bucky was seconds away from losing it.

It was fucking hard to just not… snap.

Literally and metaphorically.

And now Sam was acting like your personal chaperone. Bucky swore the next time he got in the way, he was going to launch him out the nearest window.

He was tired of being treated like a threat when all he’d done was look at you like you were made of stars.

So later that night, when he found you alone in the garage— legs crossed on the workbench, music playing while you tinkered with Redwing’s sensors— he stood in the doorway a moment too long.

You looked up, smiling without hesitation. “You got past Sam’s force field?”

“He’s out cold after training,” Bucky shrugged. “He tried to go without coffee today.”

You snorted. “That’ll do it.”

He stepped closer and hesitated. “Did you know he’s been keeping us apart?”

You didn’t look up. Not yet. “Figured something was going on.”

“He thinks we’ll mess up,” Bucky said. “Thinks we’ll make it awkward.”

You set your tool down, finally looking at him.

“Let me guess,” You gave him that smile. It was dangerous. “That makes you want me more?”

Bucky let out an incredulous laugh, running a nervous hand through his hair. “You know me so well.”

You hopped down off the bench, walking over until you were standing in front of him, your chest barely brushing his. 

“So what now?” Your head tilted just enough to be a question. “You finally gonna make your move while the warden’s asleep?”

His lips tugged into a half-smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like a lot of things,” you said, letting the suggestion hang.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. 

You tilted your head, chin high. “You didn’t think I noticed?” you asked. “How you always find a reason to be close?”

He didn’t move. He couldn't. Not when you were this close. 

“And I kept wondering,” you whispered playfully, eyes on his lips now, “if you were going to keep playing the long game, or finally admit how bad you want it.”

Bucky’s breath caught. His fingers twitched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach for you.

You didn’t give him the chance.

You kissed him.

And god, he melted.

It wasn’t soft. At least, not at first. 

Both your lips parted, a moan caught in your throat as he gripped your waist and pulled you into him like he’d been holding back for weeks. 

His mouth moved with yours like he needed you to survive.

It was the kind of kiss that said this has been driving me crazy and I’m done pretending it hasn’t. His metal hand slid up your neck, fingers tilting your face just right, the human one curling around your lower back.

You pressed in closer, feeling now how tightly he held you, as if he didn’t trust this wasn’t a dream.

When you finally pulled back, you pressed your forehead to his.

His eyes fluttered open.

He looked... dazed.

He looked like he’d been hit with a truck full of hormones.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled, and then blinked, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You grinned, cheeks hot.

“You’re wrecked,” you teased, amused. “I barely kissed you.”

“You call that barely?” he breathed, stunned. “Christ.”

Then, he ran the back of his fingers along your jaw. “I’ve wanted that for so long I forgot what not wanting it felt like.”

You leaned in again, brushing your nose against his. “Then take what you want, Sarge.”

His smile turned dangerous.

This little escapade ended with you pulling Bucky into the nearest supply closet and locking the door behind you.

You didn’t even give him a chance to catch his breath.

“You sure about this?” he asked, the light catching in his eyes like silver and smoke.

You just grabbed the collar of his shirt to yank him down into another kiss. 

What happened next wasn’t exactly PG.

There was heat, and hands, and the kind of breathy curses that barely made it past lips pressed together. Bucky’s dog tags clinked against the trinket necklace that he gave you. Something fell off a shelf. You didn’t notice. Bucky didn't care.

At one point, you were both breathless and laughing, pressed chest-to-chest in the cramped space, when you whispered, “This is so unprofessional.”

Bucky whispered back, “Shhhh, I’m busy,” right before he kissed you again, muttering downright filthy praises as he made his way to his knees. 

Forty minutes later, the door clicked open and you both reemerged. 

Not quite innocent, but decent enough. Bucky’s hair was slightly more tousled than usual, and you’d thrown on a hoodie over your tank top, even though you never wore your hoodie indoors. 

But now, you had to. Or else Sam would see the marks Bucky left along your neck. 

An hour later, Sam finally stirred from his coffee-deprived coma.

He shuffled into the hangar, muttering about needing espresso and a neck brace.

The first thing he saw was you and Bucky standing near your workstation. Flirting, but overall looking normal.

Almost.

But you were in your hoodie. Inside.

Sam squinted.

“Huh,” he muttered. “That’s new.”

You didn’t even blink. “It’s cold in here.”

Sam shrugged. Best not to think too much of it.

—

Hooking up with Bucky Barnes was never supposed to feel like falling in love.

But it did.

Not in a dramatic, slow-motion, hearts-eyes kind of way.

It happened steadily. Like gravity.

Sam thought the crush had run its course when the flirting died down in public. He figured the spark fizzled, and neither of you wanted to admit it. So he started easing up on the chaperoning. 

What he didn’t know was that the tension had stopped boiling over in public because you’d found an outlet to release it in each other’s bed. 

But it was never just that.

You started to notice how Bucky watched your face—not your body—when you talked about something that excited you. Like your circuitry project, or the Wakandan energy conversion systems. Or the ridiculous theory you had about quantum-linked processors and how they might someday change the world.

He listened, not out of obligation, but curiosity. He wanted to know how your mind worked, even if the words flew over his head.

He started sleeping over after your late-night hookups. At first it was just practical. After a mission, he'd stumble into your bed, and afterwards, neither of you had the energy to move.

But then it became a comfort. 

Then it was something he didn’t want to go without.

One morning, you found him installing blackout curtains in your bedroom.

“You hate waking up early,” he said with a shrug. “Thought this might help.”

And maybe that was the moment you realised it wasn’t casual anymore. Maybe that was the moment you realised you weren’t falling— you’d already fallen.

He took you out, and was a real gentleman about it, too. 

He always took you to the coffee shop you loved—the one with awful chairs and strange wall art and croissants that tasted like buttery clouds. He’d sit next to you with his sunglasses on and his hand in yours, like his body didn’t know how not to be near you. 

He let you ride on the back of his bike, with your arms wrapped around his waist.

He’d park on quiet hills overlooking the city lights, hand you a drink from a fast-food drive-thru and just… sit. 

Sometimes you’d talk. 

You talked about Wakanda. About Shuri—how much you missed her. How much he did, too. 

You talked about the things you were afraid to want. A future. Stability. 

He told you that you made him feel normal. Like a person, not a weapon.

You told him he made you feel seen. Like someone worth noticing, beyond an academic accomplishment.

And when he kissed you, sometimes it felt like it hurt. Sometimes you wondered if it scared him to fall in love.

One night, he even took the leap and whispered I love you.

You said it back, just as gently.

So yeah, technically you were dating.

Not that Sam or Joaquin knew.

—

You still tried to play it casual— at least in public.

Which brings us to one very specific Saturday afternoon.

You and Bucky had been… busy.

The kind of busy that started with you on your kitchen counter, legs wrapped around his waist and ended up with you bent over that same counter, forearms braced against the cool marble, your hoodie bunched up around your waist.

Bucky's hands gripped your hips like he was anchoring himself, hips snapping forward in a rhythm that bordered on sinful.

You moaned, biting your lip just to stay somewhat quiet, but failing miserably.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled against the back of your neck. “You were made for me.”

You tried to let out a breathless, wrecked laugh, but all that came out was a broken sigh.

You were close. So close—

And then the front door opened.

You had accidentally left it unlocked.

At first, you didn’t register it, not over the sound of your own moaning. Not over Bucky’s groans and the slap of skin on skin.

Until—

“Yo, I just came by to grab the upgrades—OH MY GOD.”

Joaquin was standing frozen in your doorway.

His eyes were wide, mouth open, and you could’ve sworn his soul was visibly leaving his body.

You screamed.

Bucky swore.

You yanked your hoodie down, cheeks burning. Bucky stepped in front of you like he could somehow block the mental trauma Joaquin had just suffered and pulled up his sweatpants.

“What the fuck? I can’t unsee that,” he sputtered, spinning around, only to walk directly into the wall.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. “Oh my god– oh my god— Is today Saturday? I told him— ARGHH!—Bucky! DO SOMETHING!”

Bucky just exhaled like a man getting hit with a tax audit and reached for his wallet on the side table.

“Torres,” he called out.

Joaquin peeked over his shoulder like Bucky was Medusa. “If you hand me cash, I swear to—”

“Apple Pay?” Bucky offered, putting down the wallet and reaching for his phone instead.

You blinked.

“…Depends how much.”

“Five hundred,” Bucky said, “You never tell Sam. You never joke about it on base. You never bring it up ever.”

Joaquin squinted. “Make it six.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. 

“Six-fifty,” Bucky countered, tapping on his phone, “and you run interference next time Sam gets nosy.”

“I’m gonna need therapy,” Joaquin demanded. “And probably bleach. So I need more.”

“Add another fifty,” you piped up from behind Bucky, “and I throw in a custom diagnostic chip for your wings.”

Joaquin considered it. “Deal.”

And that’s how the Falcon walked out of your apartment $700 richer.

—

Two months later, dragging Joaquin into your sexcapades had become standard protocol.

“Distract Sam. Ten minutes,” you hissed into the comms, already breathless, ducking into the back of a supply truck with Bucky right behind you, stripping off his tac vest.

“Again?!” Joaquin whisper-yelled through his ear piece. 

“You love us,” you cooed sweetly, right before Bucky yanked your shirt over your head and you were cut off.

So Joaquin did his part.

Sam would be looking for you, when suddenly there was Joaquin, materialising beside him like a caffeine-fueled jackrabbit.

“Yo, Cap, wanna see this new drone maneuver I coded? It does a barrel roll. In reverse.”

Sam gave him a squint. “Aren’t you on aerial patrol?”

“I am! This is, uh, supplemental. For morale. Very therapeutic. Like—watch!”

Meanwhile, four doors down, you were bent over a crate of rations in a supply closet, Bucky’s hand clamped over your mouth as he fucked you like the world might end in twenty minutes and he wanted to die with your name on his lips.

You gasped around his palm. “He’s right there—oh —”

“Then shut up,” Bucky growled.

Sam, on the other hand, was not buying it.

“You good, man?” He asked, genuinely worried, “You’ve been real twitchy lately.”

Joaquin was sweating bullets: “I’m fine. Totally normal. Definitely not thinking about sex.”

Sam blinked. 

“I– I mean SUCCESS,” he stammered, stumbling over his words, “Teamwork, and all that stuff!”

Sam didn't buy it, but didn’t have a reason to question it, either.

And from there, it was chaos.

Sam wanted to call you for a debrief?

Joaquin would “accidentally” spill an entire protein shake over the mission map.

Sam headed to the hangar?

Joaquin sprinted to intercept, yelling about “mysterious engine noises” while Bucky slipped out the back with you, shirt half-buttoned and lipstick smudged across his chin.

You, Bucky, and Joaquin became a well-oiled, morally questionable unit.

But in the end, Bucky got laid.

You got your insides rearranged.

Joaquin got trauma and a couple of upgrades.

So it was a win-win for everyone.

—

You were especially reckless one Wednesday.

You remembered because it was leg day— and Bucky had already wrecked you in training so badly, you could barely walk straight. 

Sam had assigned him to sharpen your hand-to-hand skills, after all. He took that very literally.

Now you were pressed up against the wall of some dusty, half-forgotten hanger in the compound, your legs shaking for an entirely different reason. His dog tags smacked against your chest, tangling with the little charm you kept around your neck. Your grunts echoed far too loud for anyone trying to keep this a secret.

“Bucky,” you gasped. “Someone could walk in.”

He groaned into your neck, not slowing down at all. “Let them. Let ‘em see what they’ll never get.”

You dug your nails into his back, barely able to think. “Fuck, you’re so full of yourself.”

“You weren’t complaining last night when I—”

“Hey!” you cut him off playfully with a slap to the shoulder. “Focus, Sarge!”

Neither of you noticed the faint mechanical chirp overhead.

Redwing was perched on a maintenance cabinet nearby.

Recording. Because Sam had programmed it to run 24/7 in order to test the heat sensors.

—

Two days later, Sam was in the control room, analysing flight path data.

Joaquin was lounging beside him, and today, you had a day off.

“Hey,” Sam suddenly said, frowning at his screen. “Why is Redwing’s log showing heat spikes in Hangar C?”

“What?” Joaquin choked on his smoothie. He knew immediately what must’ve fucking happened, and dismissed any accusation right away. “Pfft. Probably a… malfunction.”

Sam clicked a few buttons as a projection flared to life.

“Weird,” he shook his head, leaning in. That’s… body heat. Two sources. Definitely not a test flight…”

“Must be…strays,” Joaquin blurted. “Like, uh, animals. Rats. Maybe raccoons. Having sex.”

Sam turned to look at him. “You’re telling me this is a rat orgy?”

“Big problem in Hangar C.” Joaquin nodded solemnly. “Very horny wildlife.”

But Sam wasn’t convinced. “Wait… why does the audio kick in right… here?”

Click.

Suddenly the speakers came alive with your voice.

“Oh my God—yes—right there—”

Then Bucky’s voice followed. “You like that, huh? Cryin’ for me out here like a needy little—”

“FUCK,” Joaquin screamed, lunging across the table and slamming the power button like his life depended on it.

The room went silent as the lights flickered dead. Sam blinked like he’d been hit by a truck.

“…Rat orgy,” Joaquin whispered desperately, voice cracking.

Sam turned to him. “That was Bucky, wasn’t it?”

Joaquin didn’t move. “I’m not legally required to answer that, am I?”

—

You were curled up on Bucky’s couch, one of his hoodies swallowing you whole, legs tangled with his, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on your lap. The movie—a classic noir thing he vouched for—was on, but you weren’t really paying attention.

His thumb traced lazy circles on your thigh, under the blanket, and every time he leaned in to whisper a joke, you could feel his scruff brushing against your temple. 

Everything felt right.

Then his phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

“Someone’s persistent,” you chuckled, not thinking much of it, and not looking away from the screen.

“Probably Torres,” Bucky sighed, reaching for it. “Or spam. Or spam from Torres.”

When he checked the messages, he looked… confused.

“What?” you asked, noticing the change in his posture. He turned the phone toward you.

A video file was labeled: Redwing_Betrayal.MOV

Below it, a message from Sam.

Do NOT fuck this up. Do NOT make this weird. Or I’ll throw you off a plane with no chute.

Bucky squinted. “Didn’t know Redwing could send files this big.”

You sat up slightly, concern creeping in. “Wait—what?”

And because Bucky had the restraint of a gnat, he tapped play without thinking twice.

Grainy thermal footage lit up the screen. Then you heard sounds that suspiciously sounded like your name. Then, the full 4K video synced in, and you saw yourself and Bucky going at it like bunnies.

You almost choked. “OH MY—.”

You lunged for the phone like it was a grenade, but Bucky held it out of reach.

“Oh,” he said, amused. “It’s that day. We looked good.”

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES.” You buried your face in his chest, nearly shrieking. Sam—your boss, Bucky’s best friend—knew now. Thank God this job didn’t have HR. “I—I didn’t even know Redwing was recording!”

“I need to step up my game,” he said casually, scrubbing through the clip like he was watching game tape. “See? My hip angle was off in the first minute.”

“Bucky—”

“But damn,” he added, serious. “Look at your arch, though.”

You smacked him with a pillow. “TURN IT OFF.”

He smirked, not budging, and hit save to his private album.

“You’re the worst,” you groaned, though it was playful more than anything, hitting him again with the pillow.

“I’m keeping it for science,” he said innocently. “And maybe for when you’re out of town.”

You smacked his arm, and he kissed your forehead like that made everything better. 

It kinda did.

Bucky pulled you back into his chest, still grinning like a menace, and grabbed his phone again, thumb flying over the screen.

You peeked over his shoulder to see.

To: Sam I am weird. And also look amazing doing it.

Sent.

He snorted as the typing bubble popped up.

A second later, Sam’s response came in, and it was just a line.

Jokes aside, I’m happy for you.

You both stared at it.

“Well…” you said, a little stunned, “that’s… sweet?

“Coming from Sam?” Bucky chuckled. “That’s a miracle.”

So he just leaned back against the couch, pulling you even closer as you both processed Sam’s strange acceptance. Perhaps, after all the years of seeing his friend brood alone in his apartment, Sam finally saw through the professional lens and was glad that someone was able to keep Bucky in check, even if that someone happened to be his tech girl.

With a satisfied grin, he tapped his phone a few more times, and you heard him mutter, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you still have a job.” He raised an eyebrow at the screen. “And Joaquin’s side hustle? Yeah, that’s done. No more hush money and suit upgrades from him.” 

You chuckled, knowing full well Bucky would take care of things, like he always did. 

The whole situation might’ve been ridiculous, but with him?

You didn’t have to worry about anything

Except maybe keeping government tech out of the bedroom.

-end.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003

blurb based on this anon everyone say thank you anon <3

(No pronouns used for R)

On the fourth night in a row of you sleeping like shit, Eddie takes matters into his own hands.

He makes it his private quest- Operation Fair Maiden’s Slumber- to get you to sleep and stay asleep. Unbeknownst to you, he’d started earlier that afternoon, casually handing you a mug of chamomile tea along with your paperback. You both stay curled up on the trailer’s couch with your respective books for awhile, your legs in his lap, his warm palm stroking up your thigh, until the sun dipped low enough to warrant turning on all the lamps in the room. 

He makes you a proper, robust dinner- pasta and garlic bread, a carb-o-load for the ages to try and lull your stomach into hibernation. When the dishes are done, he asks if he can play you a song.

You get cozy in Eddie’s bed, blanket around your shoulders, while he sits cross-legged on the floor, plucking through the strings to tune. And when you’re settled, he starts playing- first it’s an old Fleetwood Mac song that he knows is your favorite, followed by a Bob Dylan single that he’s always found kinda hokey but he likes the way you close your eyes with the feeling of it.

All the while he keeps his singing soft, the melodies gentle, glancing up every so often to confirm you’re nestling deeper into the blankets. When he thinks you might’ve drifted off, he stealthily sets his guitar aside and climbs carefully onto the bed- only to startle when your eyes pop open, seemingly wide awake.

“Those were really nice songs,” you tell him, wrapping the blanket around you both so that he can lay across your body. “Thanks for giving me my own concert. I’m so lucky.”

“You deserve it, angel,” he says into your collarbone. As your arms wrap around his frame he slips his hands under your shoulders, cuddling into the warmth of you. “You want a bedtime story, too?”

When you nod, Eddie launches into a memorized monologue of the first chapter of Alice in Wonderland. It was one of your favorite books as a kid, so he’s hoping that the kick of nostalgia will be enough to send you off to dreamland.

And at first, he thinks it’s working- the small movements in your waist and shoulders he takes as a sign of your body settling into the mattress. But when the plush of your hip rolls against his crotch, he stops mid-sentence, affronted- “Baby... You’re supposed to be sleepy, not horny!”

“I can be both,” you pout, pulling Eddie towards you so that he’s forced to hover over you, his hair creating a curtain around your faces. “You’re just so handsome and sweet and I wanna thank you for your hard work…”

Your hand trails down his chest, against his stomach, and Eddie’s quickly losing the plot to his quest as you graze against his already half-hard clothed cock. 

“You’re s’posed to…” his forehead dips to crush against yours, hips rolling into your hand automatically. “Tryn’a get you… to sleep…”

“An orgasm would help.” You stretch up to press your lips against his, and he kisses you back, a little whimper in your throat swallowed up by his mouth.

Eddie doesn’t totally abandon his quest, in the end. It just gets re-titled:

Operation Give the Fair Maiden One Two Three Orgasms. For Bedtime. 

bucky. on. his. knees.

i need y'all to sit and think about that with me for a quick second okay. This man, in FULL tactical mission gear (weapons still strapped to his thighs and slung across his back), kneeling before you with his head buried between your thighs in the middle of the quinjet, his patience had been growing thin for days as the training mission wore on and on and on, his need for you however had only built and built until his blood simmered with unchecked heat, his skin slick with sweat as desire boiled over in a mess of huffed breaths and muffled moans as he came to the thought of you over and over again. Its not as if you hadn't noticed his lingering touches, the longing glances, his not so subtle hints at just how much he was going to ruin you as soon as you went home but days four and five and six begin to roll around, the tether holding Bucky's sanity snapped.

"Up. Now." Bucky's gruff voice commands as you feel his fingers tap the outside of your clothed thigh.

You lift your head, gaze still locked on the red dots of your team mates in the screen before you, and question him with a soft hum. Steve’s dot blinked as he crossed paths with Nat, her accurate aim lighting up his tactical vest with a hit.

“Come on. Get Up” he instructs again, a little firmer this time, fingers digging into your thigh.

“What- Buck, what is it?” You finally glance at your partner who is looking suspiciously flustered. “You okay?”

“Just get up and take your pants off.”

“James-“ you begin to chastise him but are cut off as your chair spins around, Bucky kneeling before you as his hands begin to work open the buttons at your waist.

“Please sweetheart, i’m going crazy. Just lemme eat-.”

“Bucky, there are cameras.” despite your protests you are lifting your hips to allow Bucky to slip your trousers down your thighs.

“I’ll wipe the data.” his reply is gruff as he pulls you to the edge of the seat, your thighs slung over his shoulders as his hot breath fans over you. “i’ll be quick, please.” he doesn’t finish his sentence before diving in, his tongue flat against your aching pussy.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about Bucky and the thousand and one ways you wanted to fuck him once getting home but there hasn’t been a moment alone to take care of yourself and so your tension built and built until a single look had you gushing and aching.

“You’re sitting on my face when we get home.” Bucky mumbles, words muffled as he licks and sucks. “Need you to suffocate me.”

GODDESS

postTFATWS!BuckyBarnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re still trying to figure out how a healthy relationship works. Bucky is more than happy to show you.

Warnings: mentions of a past toxic relationship, reader is insecure, feelings (because it’s me), Bucky being the sweetest man possible (yes, he’s a warning), established healthy relationship, a tiny bit of possessive!Bucky (in a healthy way), SMUT, exhibitionism, fingering, talks about birth control, unprotected sex, cum kink (sort of), possessive sex (you have to squint), praise, p in v, let me know if I forgot something.

A/N: I was daydreaming about this yesterday and I just had to write, if you like it please let me know. Also I changed my username ‘cause I didn’t like the old one that much.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY STORIES TRANSLATED, COPIED OR POSTED TO ANY OTHER SITE/APP/ACCOUNT. DO NOT STEAL MY WORK.

You clutch your jacket tightly, your knuckles turning white as you secure the denim fabric around you — a nervous habit you've developed over time. You had intended to change before Bucky arrived, but he showed up earlier than expected, leaving you no time, so you just took the first jacked you saw and covered yourself. Insecurities flood your mind as you open the door for him. He gives you a tight hug that communicates how much he missed you, but instead of embracing him back, you just clutch your jacket harder. A shield, of sorts.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Are you cold?" Bucky asks, concern etched on his face as he gently rubs your hips with his leather covered thumbs.

"I'm not sure about this dress," you admit, avoiding his gaze.

"Why? Don't you like how you look? Let me see it," he suggests, releasing his grip on you, giving you space to remove your jacket.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you summon the courage to reveal yourself. It’s a pretty dress, used to be one of your favorites, actually, but you retired it after it caused your ex to almost hit you for “wearing something so revealing”. Today, as you were searching for an outfit and found it hidden at the bottom of your wardrobe, you couldn’t help but choose it, as you felt an overwhelming sense of freedom after trying it on. Now, though, you’re not so sure anymore.

You feel the cold air touching your bare arms and brace yourself for the harsh words, echoes of your past relationship lingering inside your brain. But Bucky remains silent, intensifying your anxiety. It has only been a few months since you started dating the supersoldier, and while you've seen no signs of violence from him, you're still guarded, prepared if the moment comes. Bucky is a gentleman, but so was your ex at the beginning.

"I can change if you want," you quickly offer, seeking to appease any potential displeasure.

"Why would I want you to change?" Something in his voice prompts you to open your eyes. Rather than the disappointment you were expecting, there’s some kind of amazement and even lust as he looks at you up and down. Not a single trace of anger.

The gentleness of his question gives you enough courage to ask, “don’t you think I look like a slut?”

Bucky's eyes shoot up to meet yours, a little shocked, but upon noticing the fear in them his face softens with understanding, and he steps closer, enfolding you in his arms. “Darlin’, you look like a fucking Goddess.” He gently kisses your forehead. “Absolutely stunning.”

Bucky knows about your past relationship and the emotional scars it left behind. When he met you, you were a mess. He thought that an ex-assassin would be the last person you’d choose to date after everything, but apparently he did something right, and the moment you accepted him in your life he vowed to himself he’d do anything to show you what a genuine, nurturing love feels like.

"Are you sure? You're not... mad? I mean, that other men will look at me.” you ask hesitantly.

"Why would I be mad?" Bucky responds, his voice filled with sincerity. Despite the heartbreak upon seeing you so scared, he manages a tiny smirk. "They can look; only I get to touch."

You remain uncertain. Your previous boyfriend, when he was in a good mood, had also claimed not to care when you dressed like this — until another guy so much as glanced your way.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky leads you to your bedroom, positioning you in front of the mirror and standing behind you. As you gaze at your reflection, he notices the sparkle in your eyes and the joy that emanates from within. You like how you look in the dress, and that realization instantly makes it Bucky's favorite.

His leather-clad hands gently trail along your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Do you feel beautiful?" he asks, admiring your form as much as you do.

You answer, blushing and avoiding his eyes, "Yes."

"And do you feel comfortable?" he inquires further.

You hesitate, your thoughts momentarily scattered. Then, you consider his words and the scenario he paints.

"I... Well..." you trail off, contemplating the tiny sparkle of confidence starting to bloom inside your chest.

"Forget about me for a moment. Imagine you're single, going out with your girlfriends. Do you feel comfortable then?" Bucky prompts.

You ponder his question, allowing yourself to envision the scenario. After a brief moment, you respond, "Yes, I do.”

Bucky raises his hand, cupping your cheek and tilting your head until your eyes meet in the mirror. A proud smile graces his lips.

"Then that's the outfit you're wearing tonight," he declares, his voice filled with certainty and adoration.

You smile timidly at him, not really sure how to deal with this… respect, coming from a boyfriend. His hand starts to travel down through your stomach.

“When the other dudes look at you, and they will…” Bucky lowers his mouth to the shell of your ear and whispers, “I’ll make sure to show them that you’re mine, alright?”

His words cut straight to your core, and you involuntarily press your ass against him, feeling his already hard length. You gasp. He whispers your name.

“Keep doing this and we’re not gonna leave this bedroom tonight.” He murmurs with a deep tone.

“Would it be so bad?” You fake pout, grinding against him again, on purpose this time.

“Well, I really want to show you off in that outfit, so…” He says, but can’t help himself from lowering his hands to the hem of your dress, leaving goosebumps along the way.

“Bucky…” You sigh when he starts giving lingering kisses along the curve of your neck and the bottom of your earlobe.

“But I suppose we have some time before our lateness becomes socially unacceptable, right?” He whispers, sneaking two fingers under the fabric, millimeters away from where you need his touch the most.

“How much?” You ask, watching as Bucky frees his flesh hand from the glove to let you know what’s about to happen.

“Enough,” he says, dragging one finger along your clothed cunt, and moaning at your drenched panties. “Already, baby?”

You only hum in response. He uses his other hand to pull down your panties and lightly tap on your hip, signaling you to step off of them. You obey. Returning his fingers to where they were before, he drags them along your lips, collecting your wetness, and starts the slow circles on your clit. Mustering that confidence Bucky just unburied from a locked place inside your brain, you cover his hand with yours and guide him to your entrance.

“No teasing,” you plead.

Bucky chuckles. “What a greedy woman you are.”

He circles your entrance for a few moments before slowly inserting two digits all the way up, your wet walls making it easy for him. You moan, relieved, and rest the back of your head on his shoulder.

“That enough to make you roll your eyes, darlin’?”

You try rolling your hips, but Bucky quickly encircles your waist with his metal arm, firming his grip so you remain still.

“Please, Bucky…”

“Oh, baby, you know I can’t resist when you beg,” he kisses and bites your shoulder, then curls his fingers inside of you, his knuckles rubbing on that delicious spot inside your hole as he presses his clothed cock against your ass again, “and look at this dress, see what you do to me?”

You feel a twitch in your stomach when Bucky starts stimulating your clit with his thumb, along with the in-and-out movement of his fingers.

“Open those beautiful eyes for me, would ya’?” He asks softly. “See how pretty you get when you beg like that.”

You silently thank the universe that he’s firmly holding you, because his words make your knees almost give in. Panting, you comply with his request, fixing your gaze in the spot where he’s fingering you under your dress. Just like everything else about you, he notices the direction of your eyes.

“You wanna see it, baby? Wanna watch while I fuck you with my fingers?” He asks carefully, amusement lacing his deep voice.

You whimper, imagining the sight, and nod frantically.

“Go ahead, dirty girl.” He encourages.

Satisfied with the permission, you lift one of your legs and place your foot at the bottom of your bed, granting you two full access to the view. You both watch Bucky’s motions in awe, the wetness that covers his fingers reflecting the dim light of the room, silent except for the squishy noises his fingers make as he fucks them into your pussy. The sight almost makes Bucky drop down to his knees to worship you like the Goddess he honestly thinks you are. Actually,  if he didn’t know you’re only standing because of his arm around you, he’d probably do just that.

“Like what you see?” He whispers in your year.

You moan in approval, trying to move your hips, but Bucky’s grip is strong, and he smirks.

“Magic word?”

“Faster.” You demand suddenly.

That’s not quite the word Bucky was expecting, but he’s too stunned by your behavior to care. You two had sex before — as soon as you gave him indication that you wanted it, because how could he resist you? —, but it was always so… loving. I mean, Bucky really wants to show you how tender real love can be, but he’s absolutely relishing this newfound confident side of yours. Never had he imagined you could be so filthy, and he really wants to beat the shit out of your ex for making you think that you have to hide it. Also, as he had already imagined it would, your slight dominance leaves him at your mercy, and he moans as he pleases you, fastening his movements.

That familiar knot starts to build up in your belly, and you try hard not to roll your eyes, not wanting to miss a single moment of the view.

“Bucky…” you call, finding it harder and harder to breathe. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it, baby. Let go for me.” He whispers next to your ear, satisfied to feel your tight walls clenching his fingers. “You’re such a good girl. So fucking beautiful in this dress.”

With the fog of pleasure taking over your brain as the words hit your ears, you moan loudly and let the overwhelming feeling consume you. Bucky can’t quite keep himself from grinding against your ass as you drench his fingers with your sweet nectar, whimpering while he fingers you all the way through your orgasm. He watches, grunting in pleasure, as you fight your eyelids from closing, until you can’t control yourself anymore, going limp into his arms and rolling your eyes with relief.

Coming down from the high, you look at him through the mirror, smiling sheepishly as you watch him raise the two fingers he just used to make you come and suck them hungrily, licking until there’s no trace of your orgasm anymore. Finding it hard to decide if he should compose himself and drag both your horny asses to the bar or toss you in bed and keep your legs spread open for him to eat out as he pleases until the morning lights, an idea pops into his head.

“You’re on birth control, right?” He asks. He never fucked you bare before, so he never had to ask, but, well… There's a first time for everything, right?

“I am, why?” You ask, still a little dizzy.

He smirks, then gets you by the waist and tosses you in bed unceremoniously, making you gasp in surprise and then giggle.

“Bucky, we have to go.” You remind him, but give no indication that you’ll get up.

You watch as your boyfriend determinedly undresses himself, unashamedly staring at his built up body. The muscles from his abdomen tightens as he bends down to get rid of his jeans, and you lick your lips seeing his long length being freed, already hard with need.

“Sam’s got time. He can wait.” He answers, using his knees to spread your thighs apart as he positions himself right where he belongs: between them.

You make a motion to undress yourself, but when Bucky realizes what you’re doing, he stops you.

“Keep the dress.” He says, and you lay back.

You feel the coldness of Bucky’s dog tags touch the skin of your chest as he towers over you, using his metal hand to support himself and the flesh one to cup your cheek and caress it with his thumb. His expression turns into a soft one.

“When those guys out there look at you dressed like this…” he teases your over sensitive entrance with his tip, the sensation almost too overwhelming. Almost. “They’ll desire you, baby, and they’ll have no clue that you’re walking around with my cum dripping from this pretty pussy.”

With one swift motion, he enters you, unable to contain the pornographic moan that leaves his lips. You gasp in surprise, both from the lack of a condom and from the fact that Bucky never filled you up so abruptly like this. You’re not complaining, though, as you feel his bare skin stretching your soft walls.

“You like that, baby?” He asks when you raise your hands to his short hair and pull it. “Everyone will see you in this beautiful dress and they won’t even imagine that I just fucked the shit out of you in it.”

Bucky slowly – so slowly – takes his cock out of your hole, leaving just the tip, and sharply enters you again, earning an almost scream from your lips.

“Want them to know…” you manage to say hoarsely “Want them to know I’m yours.”

Your words hit Bucky in an instinctive place of his brain, awakening all those raw feelings of protection and possessiveness inside his subconscious, and he almost finishes then and there. He thrusts into you vigorously once again before answering.

“Oh, they will,” if you had the mind to pay attention, you'd notice his voice just got impossibly lower, “we’ll show them, alright? You and me.”

Bucky loses the ability to make coherent sentences as he feels your walls clenching around him, a sign that you’re already getting close again. Without hesitation, he fastens his movements, losing himself in the feeling of your soft interior.

His thrusts are harsh, but still caring in a way, since you know he’s not doing it to hurt you, but to please you. He kisses you passionately, holding your face and licking the inside of your mouth, because if he's being honest with himself, if you keep almost screaming his name like you were, he might as well not last as long as he needs to make you come again.

You wrap your legs around his waist, the new angle making you feel him even deeper inside your cunt, and he almost loses it when he feels you dragging your heels along his lower back.

With one hand, you scratch his back hard enough to feel his warm blood staining your fingers, growing desperate with the tight knot that’s once again forming inside you. Bucky kisses and bites and licks your neck, not giving a damn about the pain — enjoying it, even. Your other hand goes straight to your clit and you start treating yourself with just the right amount of pressure and speed. The action, of course, doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky, and he grunts in approval.

The headboard slams into the wall as Bucky feels his movements start to become a little sloppy. “Gonna come.” He says, panting “Gonna come inside you, baby. Gonna make you all mine.”

A jolt of electricity travels down your spine, getting you closer and closer to the edge, and you buckle your hips up in excitement.

“Let go, Bucky.” You command, making him roll his eyes. “Fill me up, make me yours.”

“Need you to come first, darlin’. Need to feel you co- Ah” Bucky’s request is interrupted by the loud moan you let out when you finally snap, no longer able to control your second orgasm of the day. He follows you not a long time after, as you can feel his hot seed painting your walls white, and he drops his forehead to your shoulder.

You don’t even have a chance to catch your breath when you feel his thick fingers once again entering your overstimulated pussy. You whimper, holding his wrist.

“Just a little bit, sweetheart,” he coos, “gotta make sure it stays inside.”

You whimper again, but let him do his thing, hearing the squishy noises his fingers make as they shove every drop of his seed all the way up before it slips away. Then he proceeds to get up, put on his clothes and retrieve your panties from the floor.

“Can you lift your legs for me, doll?” He asks, and you obey. “That’s my good girl.”

Bucky slides the piece of lingerie up your legs, until they’re back to their place — securing his cum inside of you — and helps you get up, holding your hips until he’s sure you can still walk.

Just as you were going to comment on the plans you two have, you hear Bucky’s phone ringing from his pocket.

“Hi, Sam.” He answers, staring at you. “We’re on our way. We had a little bit of a… situation.” A playful smirk adorns his lips as he says that. “No, I didn’t make her up, Sam. She’s real, we’re just a little late.”

You chuckle. When Bucky invited you to meet his friend — Bucky calls him a colleague, but you can see by the look on his eyes that he cares about him like a dear friend — Sam Wilson (yes, the Captain America), he warned you Sam would probably question if you’re real, since he can’t believe the “bionic staring machine” could be so charming as to find a girl for himself.

Said staring machine hangs up the phone and gives you a peck on the lips.

“Ready?”

He guides you to the door after you secure him you can walk by yourself, opening it for you like the gentleman he is. However, before you can get out, he stops you.

You look at him questioningly.

“Everyone will know that you’re mine,” he reassures, “and if you behave…” he lowers his head until you can feel his warm breath against the skin of your ear, “when we get back, I’ll make sure to worship you like the fucking Goddess you are.”

masterlist

Julie

Based on the song Julie by Emily Kinney, give it a listen!

BestFriend!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie wants you to meet his new girlfriend, Julie. You don’t think she’s right for him, but who is? 

A/N: I'm back from my little break. The blurbs you saw the past couple of days were scheduled. Sorry if your name is Julie, let’s pretend it’s not for the purposes of this fic. I was listening to old Emily Kinney songs and my favorite came up, then I had this idea. Two things: let’s pretend Hawkins is big enough to have taxis, and ‘skeeters’ as in the old Midwest way of saying mosquitos—you’ll get that when you read. 

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, flufffff, presumed unrequited love, big tension-filled love confession–it’s yummy nummy guys fr, emotional cheating? (eh, kinda but not really, and not on reader, Eddie’s not a cheater tho), they wanna make out so bad, they’re so stupidly in love I hate them, friends to lovers, mentions of weed smoking, Eddie’s made-up religion. 

I’m staring at the ground as she walks right by

You’re staring at me mad ‘cause I refuse to say hi

I’m just staring into space ‘cause all I got on my mind

Elevator kisses, summer, summertime

Elevator kisses, you and I

–Julie by Emily Kinney

Masterlist

You’re sitting at the bar—your usual spot with Eddie at the Hideout—waiting to meet his new girlfriend. He’s about ten minutes late, but that’s not out of the ordinary for your best friend. In your thirteen years of knowing him, he’s only been early for an event twice—never exactly on time. Suffice it to say, he’s not changing much for this new girl. 

Halfway through your Amaretto Sour, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you spot an out of breath Eddie—frizzy hair, band tee, and ripped jeans as per usual. 

“Hey!” Sliding off the cracked leather cushion on the metal stool, you throw your arms around the man for a big hug. “How are you? Where’s–,” Your voice trails off as you look past him for the girl he has yet to introduce you to—the girl he swears is cool and that you’ll like, the girl whose presence is notably lacking in the busy bar.

“Julie,” he finishes for you, “She’s outside, actually.” 

A confused smile inches up your lips as your brows furrow at his cringing face. “What, are you casing the place for her? I don’t bite,” chuckling, you try to lighten the obvious discomfort he’s displaying. 

“Uh–well, I just came in to tell you we’re gonna have to rain check.” Eddie’s ringed hand rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit you know he’s had since at least grade school when you met him. 

Huffing out a quiet laugh, you cock your head, bewildered, “What?” 

He’s here, he just said she’s here, so why can’t she come in and you can all get this over with? Then you can go home and cry about it later. You had plans—ice cream already in the freezer and a VHS of Dirty Dancing ready to go. 

“Um–I guess I–forgot to mention that the Hideout is a bar—or at least, I–I didn’t think I needed to specify—and she doesn’t like bars.” 

One look at his face tells you he wishes he didn’t have to do this. He’s clearly embarrassed and sorry for putting you out like this. Inviting you to a place just to show up late and then tell you to go home—that there won’t be any hanging out to be had tonight. 

“Oh, does she not drink?” You could understand that, not everybody who can drink alcohol likes to drink alcohol. You know they make a mean Shirley Temple here—perks of confidently bellying up to the bar as a very apparent freshman in high school.

Eddie’s voice jumps a few octaves at the question, “Mm–no, she does.” 

Eyebrows raising, eyes alight with mirth, you can’t help but laugh at the circumstances. First of all, what a confounding situation. She drinks; she just doesn’t want to step inside a bar, apparently. Surely she knows she’s here to meet you—her new boyfriend’s longest friend. Typically that invokes the desire to be on one’s best behavior—the approval of the best friend is a huge step in a budding relationship. 

And second of all, she appears to be making Eddie do this. She won’t come into the establishment even for a thirty second interaction. A quick, ‘Hi, good to meet you! I’m Julie! Sorry, but bars aren’t my scene—for whatever reason—and I was wondering if you’d like to move this party to a secondary location?’ It doesn’t sound that hard as you run through the scenario in your head, but you don’t know the girl. Maybe she’s allergic to cigarette smoke and decades-old out-of-date jukebox music.

“So…,” you drawl, pursing your lips, hoping Eddie will take the hint and explain. 

“I guess she just hates bars,” he shrugs, looking even more sorry than before—if that’s even possible. 

Snorting, you can’t believe the Eddie Munson is dating a girl who’s too good to step inside a bar. The boy who practically grew up playing music on the Hideout’s rickety stage and made his first few bucks being a barback is dating a girl who hates bars—so much so, that she refuses to enter them. Okay. That’s a choice…

“Did you tell her that sitting at the bar and shootin’ the shit is the seventh commandment of the religion you founded—the one you made me baptize into? Made a whole deal about it and everything. Does she know you and I plan to be just like Bobby and Jim—old bar flies interrupting kids’ conversations to say, ‘When I was your age–,’” you put on your best old person voice, wiggling a ceremonious finger. 

That finally gets a genuine smile out of him—even a laugh. The sight makes you smile too, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from sharing in his joy. 

“You know, I guess I forgot to give her that rundown,” he quips before the lighthearted humor leaves his eyes again, a rueful smile taking its place. “Listen, I’m really sorry about this. I wish I could stay, I’ve missed just grabbing a pint and throwing peanut shells at the people who black out.”

 Taking in his face, he looks so sad, so sorry—it makes you want to fix it. 

“Yeah, you’ve gotta try and beat my high score. Last time Ricky woke up when you got ‘im, would’ve pushed me out of the lead if you hadn’t thrown so hard,” you giggle, remembering the way the old man shot up, grumbling, ‘Damn, skeeters,’ causing you and Eddie to whip around, facing the other direction to avoid suspicion. “If you wanna stay, you can just call Julie a car. Wave down a taxi and come have a drink,” you suggest, suddenly feeling extremely timid while talking to the boy you’ve known since grade school. 

He looks like he wants to stay, but the regret never leaves his eyes. As he opens his mouth to respond, the bartender cuts him off, placing a full pint down on the bar next to you—Eddie’s usual. “Hey, Ed, good to see ya, boy! You know, you shouldn’t leave such a pretty lady unattended,” he playfully chides, jabbing at Eddie’s perpetual tardiness. 

Tom’s been the bartender at the Hideout for as long as you can remember. He’s watched you and Eddie grow up, serving you two since high school. The old man was basically the only adult in town who’d spare you hooligans any attention. An eccentric himself, he enjoyed listening to your and Eddie’s rantings and ravings.

His comment warms your face, you duck your head to avoid seeing your best friend’s reaction. Something about the comment makes it sound like you’re Eddie’s girl—like he shouldn’t leave his girl waiting, lest you be scooped up by another man. 

“Yeah, Tommy? She got a couple suitors,” he asks, chuckling at the old man’s warning.

Well, now you just feel embarrassed. 

Eddie finds it funny. He clearly didn’t read into Tom’s comment the way you did. Or if he did, he’s ignoring the insinuation. Because it’s untrue. You’re not Eddie’s girl. Maybe you used to be. At least, that’s what everybody would always say—never believing the ‘best friend excuse.’ 

Tom, ever your biggest fan, nods enthusiastically. “Oh, a few of ‘em! Told ‘em they gotta get through you first. Y’bet your bottom dollar that scared ‘em off.” 

Feeling done with this joke, you turn to Tom, raising your now empty glass. “Can I get another, Tommy?” 

“Comin’ right up, sweets.” 

With the older man now away and occupied, you look at Eddie again. “You’ve even got a drink waiting for you now. If you want to…stay…”

Shooting you an apologetic smile, Eddie pulls out his wallet, plucking out a few dollar bills to leave on the bar top. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I think I should just take her home. Don’t wanna fuck up too early into the relationship,” he jokes, but it falls flat—along with the hopeful smile on your face. 

“Yeah…wouldn’t want that.”

You think you actually would like that. You’d like that very much. As long as the fuck up leads to a break up—that works just fine for you. 

“How about tomorrow? We were gonna go on a double date with Steve and Jess, but you can come too. We’ll invite Robin, it’ll just be a group dinner then and you can meet her—she’s cool, I promise!”

The idea of going on a failed double date with Eddie and his new girlfriend sounds like your worst nightmare—right up there with presenting a project naked in high school. But he looks so hopeful. Those damn big, wet eyes of his are looking extra puppy dog-ish this evening. He clearly feels awful about tonight and probably won’t give up until he feels he’s made it up to you. 

Unable to stifle your sigh, you force a smile on your face, “Sure.”

Pumping his fist, he puts his hands on your cheeks, gently shaking your face. “Thank you! You are the best! Enzos, tomorrow at seven.” He pulls your head in for a wet smooch on the forehead—his classic move when you begrudgingly agree to do his bidding. 

You’ll kick yourself for it later, but you close your eyes to relish the feel of his lips on your skin. It’s not where you’d like them, but you’ll take what you can get. Opening your eyes as he pulls away, you spot a random man standing behind him, tapping his shoulder. 

“Hey, are you Eddie?” 

Eddie turns slightly, sees the stranger, and positions himself in front of you. You wonder if he did that on purpose or if it’s a habit—either way, it makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah…”

The stranger looks annoyed when he conveys the message. You think you would be too if you were enlisted by a random woman to go corral her boyfriend.

“There’s a blonde lady outside lookin’ for you. Said to tell you, ‘Get your ass back out here or I’m leaving.’ And, hey, word of warning, dude,” the man leans into Eddie, “She doesn’t seem all that pleased with you right now.” 

The man walks off leaving a mildly shocked Eddie and a more shocked you. She really does not want to step foot in this damn bar, does she? 

Eddie seems to shake off the interaction, turning to you quickly and speaking like the past twenty seconds didn’t happen. “Enzos at seven, say you’ll be there,” he points at you, expectant gaze unmoving from your face. 

“Okay,” you shrug, unsure why he seems to think you’d ditch. You totally would, but you don’t know why he thinks you would. 

Backing up toward the exit, his reprimanding finger never falls. “Say it,” he demands, eyebrows raising, waiting for you to agree. 

“Okay, I’ll be there,” you grumble, less than enthused that he’s pushing it so hard. 

“Perfect! See you then!” 

Letting out another sigh, you turn back to the bar. “Tom, where’s that drink?”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You seem to be the first to arrive at Enzos—no sign of Steve, Robin, or Eddie. Unsure of what to do, you wait outside for them. You don’t have to wait long though, Steve pulls up with Jess and Robin only five minutes after you. 

“Hey, where’s Eddie,” Steve asks, arm wrapped securely around his long time girlfriend. 

Offering your friend a tight-lipped smile, you shrug, “Not here yet.” 

“I didn’t know he’d even be late to his own plans. Thought it was just everybody else’s he didn’t respect,” Robin quips, looking around the busy parking lot. 

“Kind of makes you feel better though, doesn’t it? Like it’s not just you?” Steve laughs at Jess’s comment. Her point makes you smile for the first time all day, she’s right and you appreciate her candor. She’s been a great addition to the group since the end of high school—fits right in with all the ribbing that goes on. You wish you could hope the same for Julie, but the other night already put a bad taste in your mouth. 

“You met his girlfriend the other night, right?” You swear Robin could be a mind reader, she’s always asking exactly what you hope she doesn’t. 

“Uh, was supposed to, yeah.” 

Your response makes the group frown. “Supposed to? So it didn’t happen,” Steve asks, shaking his head with the question.

Sucking your teeth, you consider how much you should share. You don’t want to sway anybody’s opinions of the girl before they’ve met her. Hell, you haven’t even met her—but it feels like you know all you need to know. 

“Uh–no. It did not happen,” you respond stiltedly. “Apparently she doesn’t like bars.” 

Robin’s head jerks back like she’s been slapped, a scowl on her face. “Has she heard of Munsianity?” 

Jess speaks up, setting her reaction aside to gather context. “Sorry, Munsianity?”

Steve answers for you and Robin, “Yeah, it’s this stupid made-up religion Eddie created in high school. Made us all unconsenting apostles.” 

“Well, I actually really enjoyed the sacraments,” Robin counters, nodding approvingly at the fond memories. 

“Sacraments?” 

Poor Jess. Steve’s apparently slacking on his lore lessons. 

This time it’s you who answers her, “Weed shotgunning, the Great Hotbox of ‘86, forced horror movie marathons, etcetera. It did have good benefits, though. Half-off rides, all that free weed…” 

Robin scoffs, “Yeah, half-off rides for us. You got them for free, never had to haggle over gas money.” 

The reminder of your special treatment as his best friend makes you smile. But then you remember last night and the smile fades as fast as it came. 

Steve snorts, “You know, we should be happy that Eddie became a mechanic. He had the makings of a very concerning cult leader. Would’ve been so niche and under the radar even the Feds wouldn’t be able to catch ‘im.” 

“You better believe it, big boy! Feds ain’t got nothin’ on the Munsons—well except for–my father who they do have detained right now. So they’ve got one thing on the Munsons, but nothing anybody’s missing,” Eddie shrugs, a wild grin spread across his face. 

Surprise and introductions rush through the group, Eddie’s hand never leaves the short blonde girl’s waist as she politely greets everyone. When it’s your turn, you can barely manage a tight-lipped smile and a nod—eyes never moving past her shoulders after your initial look when they walked up. 

Thankfully, Julie doesn’t seem all that talkative—not going out of her way to make your acquaintance. Your eyes are firmly planted to the ground as Steve tries to small-talk the girl, but any attempt to know her more is interrupted when Robin complains about her rumbling stomach. Steve confirms Eddie’s reservation name and leads the group inside. 

Jess seems to have gotten through to the blonde as they follow after Steve and Robin, chit chatting about their choice of shoes for the evening. You and Eddie are the last ones left in front of the restaurant. You can feel his burning gaze on the side of your face as you dig the toe of your Reeboks deeper into the gravel—remembering how, as kids, you used to run barefoot over rocky terrain like this, spending so much time outside without shoes that you both developed hobbit feet, the toughened skin impervious to the sharp rocks.

“What the hell was that,” he hisses, cocking his head incredulously.

Eyes still not lifting from the riveting dusty, white gravel, you shrug, “What was what?”

“You didn’t say, ‘Hi,’ you barely even made eye contact! You’re supposed to be my rock here. You’re supposed to help me make sure the evening goes well.” 

Eyebrows raising at his admission, you finally meet his gaze—his eyes are notably less angry now. You didn’t know you had a job to do tonight—convincing everyone to like his girlfriend no less. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, unsure of what else to say. 

“S’fine, let’s just go inside.”

The night goes as smoothly as an awkward introductory dinner can. Jokes are thrown around—everyone seems to laugh except Julie. Stories are shared at Eddie’s expense, earning cringed looks from the blonde. It’s like everyone is trying their best to pull her out of what you hope is just a shell—maybe she’s great once you get to know her—but you seem to be the only one willing to acknowledge how awful this dinner is going.

Steve uncomfortably coughs after Julie berates Eddie for his decision to order a second beer, Robin subtly kicks your foot under the table when you scowl at the blonde’s snippy tone, Jess quickly changes the subject to the gold jewelry the girl wears—successfully distracting her. 

Clearly, everyone is witnessing the consistent clashing of personalities, but no one is reacting accordingly. It makes you feel insane—like you’ve gone through the looking glass and Eddie’s decided he’d like a girlfriend who hates him. 

Zoning out for the rest of the dinner, you bide your time until you can escape—pushing the food around on your plate and rubbing the condensation off your glass. You only perk back up when you hear Steve and Eddie bickering over who will cover the bill. A smile almost makes its way onto your face, but then Julie speaks up, patting Eddie’s chest. “Eddie will pay for it, won’t you, baby? He just got a raise at the shop and he’s making so much more now.”

The scowl returns at her not-so-subtle brag to Steve and Jess. Apparently, she hasn’t been listening—otherwise, she would’ve caught on to Steve’s complaints about his job at the firm where he’s a partner, making far more than Eddie does. Also, it’s not her money to spend, nor is it hers to brag about. Eddie’s very clearly uncomfortable with her comment and you’re opening your mouth to speak before you know what you’re going to say. 

Robin beats you to it though, she sees right through you, “Thank god, you’ve been working there long enough! Congrats, dude.” 

Eddie mutters a quiet, ‘Thanks,” as he hands the card to the waiter. 

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The goodbye’s are even more awkward than the hello’s. You avoid Julie like you did before, but this time you don’t feel Eddie’s angry eyes on you. Sparing a look at your best friend, you notice he seems tired, his mood deflated compared to how he appeared before the dinner. 

Surprisingly, Julie leaves first out of the two of them, offering Eddie a clipped goodbye. Steve must look just as confused as you feel because Eddie mentions how she wanted to drive separately in the case that he ‘drank too much.’ You have to physically stop yourself from blanching at his words. If she thinks two beers is too much, she would’ve hated Eddie in high school.

Robin, Steve, and Jess all say their goodbyes, promising to hang out again soon. With just you and Eddie left, the ground becomes incredibly interesting again. You can feel his eyes on you as you wait for him to speak up first.

“What, do you not like her?” 

His immediate attitude grates on your nerves, causing you to meet his scrutinizing eyes. “Do you?”

She’s not a very pleasant girl and he seemed to be embarrassed every time she spoke tonight. How can he ask you if you like her with the way he seemed to regret the whole event? Your intonation seems to piss him off even more, overcompensating in his response—you hope. 

“Of course I do!” 

You shrug, pursing your lips, “She seems fine.”

Eddie must be looking for a fight because he doesn’t drop the subject. “You barely even spoke to her, you didn’t look at her at all! How would you know if she seems ‘fine’?”

Throwing your hands up in annoyance, you shake your head at him incredulously, “What do you want from me, Eddie?”

Matching your frustration, he shrugs his shoulders, bobbing his head expectantly, “I don’t know, I guess I want my best friend to like who I’m dating because I care about your opinion!” The statement may have come across sweeter if he hadn’t yelled it angrily. 

Chewing on your lip, you meet his exasperated eyes, muttering lowly, “You want my opinion?”

“Yes! Of course, I always want your opinion.”

Resigning yourself to the situation, nowhere to divert the conversation to—you can’t help but tell the truth, you’re tired of pretending. Letting out a sigh, you force a neutral mask to fall over your face, “You shouldn’t be with her.”

“What?” 

That was clearly not what he was expecting you to say. He figured you didn’t jive with her given how little you chose to interact, but he didn’t know you’d go this far. 

“If you stay with her, you’re a fool.”

That pisses him off again. Eddie never liked being told he’s done something wrong, especially when he didn’t know or intend it. And now it feels like his best friend is telling him she’s disappointed in his choices. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? You just met her! You didn’t bother getting to know her! What are you seeing that I’m not?” 

The last sentence is closer to the boy you grew up with. He trusts you implicitly and he wants to know what he’s missing here, what is he overlooking? 

“I mean, I bet she’s smart and you keep saying she’s so cool but…”

“But what?” 

The sadness in your eyes is breaking through your mask as you look at your oldest friend—the man you love. Suddenly it’s like a dam breaks, all the thoughts you’ve saved come spewing out. 

“You deserve someone who brings you happiness and accepts you—all your flaws included, and if you think that that’s Julie, then you’re wrong. You deserve to laugh until your stomach aches, and you deserve to spend your money how you want, and you deserve to feel desired. You deserve to be loved. And if you think she can give you that, I suggest you think again before you get any further.” 

Eddie’s brown, button eyes are as wide as saucers by the time you’re done. His mouth opens and closes, unsure how to respond to all of that. “I…don’t know what to say…”

Feeling bare and see-through—like cellophane, tears flood your waterline. You didn’t mean to say all of that and you feel mortified at his poor excuse for a response. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you throw your hand out to him, gesturing to his frozen figure. “Well, you wanted my opinion and there it is. Do with it what you will.” 

You’re done. You’ve exposed yourself enough for one night so you walk past him, ready to find your car and escape this insufferable bubble of truth. 

His voice carries as you brush past him, the words make you stop. “If not Julie, then who?”

Brows furrowing, turning your head to just barely see him in your peripheral vision, you take in the rigid expanse of his back. “What?”

Eddie turns around with a calculating gaze, roving over your sad face. You can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, he’s catching on and it makes you want to run away, but your feet won’t move.

“If you don’t think I should be with Julie, who do you think I should be with,” he asks slowly, head cocking as he studies your soul through your wet eyes.

Those wet eyes widen for a fraction of a second before you shrug dismissively, “I don’t know.”

Gravel crunches under his shoes as he steps closer to your body, closing the distance you tried to create. “No, come on, sweetheart. You have such a strong opinion,” he goads, “Surely you’ve thought the whole thing through. Who should I be with?”

Your silence is deafening. Melting under his rapt gaze, you look anywhere but those damn eyes. His next question throws you completely off. 

“How’s Connor?”

The way he asks it is simple and pleasant, but you know better. It’s a weighted question given the subject of the conversation. 

“We broke up,” you mutter, still avoiding your best friend’s eyes, thankful you can’t see his reaction to the break up of your long time boyfriend—the one Eddie never seemed to get along with. 

“When?” His voice is low and calculated. He doesn’t sound angry, he just sounds like a lawyer performing a line of funnel questioning—hoping he can back you into a corner of truth. 

Kicking your toe into the gravel again, you mutter the answer shamefully, “Two weeks ago.” 

If the circumstances were normal, Eddie would’ve been told immediately, but they weren’t, so he wasn’t. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out at the same time as your quiet answer, “Didn’t think you’d wanna know.” 

Bullshit. It’s bullshit. You know it, he knows it, the universe knows it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he repeats, voice somehow even lower, like he’s closing in on the truth if you’d just cooperate. 

Scoffing, you shake your head, glancing up at his dark eyes, “I just told you, I didn’t think you’d–”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, sweetheart. Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats the question for a third time, firm voice slowing down on every word. 

Grasping at straws, scrambling for any deflection you can, you avoid his eyes again. “Tell you what?”

“How you feel.” 

Oh. That.

You could do this all night, though. You’ve had years of practice on how best to annoy Eddie. “About Julie? I just told you how I feel.” 

That’s not what he meant and you know it. His nostrils flare as his lips form a tight line across his face. You know you’re about ten seconds away from a verbal lashing, but you’d take that over this awful conversation any day. 

But the angry words don’t come. He just keeps staring at you in silence for a full minute, scrutinizing every tiny reaction—every twitch of your brows, every narrowing of your eyes, every nervous chew of your lips. It feels like torture. You can’t move. Your stupid feet won’t save you, and he won’t talk. Damn him for knowing how to break you down.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” you rush out, huffing an annoyed breath at the revelation. 

Suddenly quick to respond now, Eddie’s face screws up in outrage, his unsteady voice hisses out, “Of course it matters. If I had to sit around and watch you with him for another minute, I would be doing the same thing you are now!” 

Jerking your head back at his admission, you take offense to the insinuation that you’re trying to break him and Julie up. You are. But you resent the insinuation. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter because you have a girlfriend,” you accuse, as if he’s not painfully aware of that fact—as if it’s not the only thing holding him back from kissing the life out of you. 

Scoffing at your rebuttal, he throws his arms up in exasperation. “I had to go out and meet somebody! I had to…get you out of my head. If I had to spend another second around you when you’re not mine to have—I would’ve gone insane!” 

He’s shouting it as if you’re the one purposefully making him daydream about his best friend, as if you’ve maliciously planted the seeds of his own destruction. 

At this point you’re just bickering like you used to, but now it’s about untimely romantic feelings for each other and not who gets to pick the movie. Crossing your arms, you throw him an annoyed look, “Well, you’re acting pretty insane already, so.”

He blanches at that being what you gathered from his confession of feelings. Groaning loudly through gritted teeth, he shakes his hands at you, “God, you’re a lunatic, you know that? I’m tryin’ to tell you I’m in love with you and you’re playing ‘Who’s Being More Stupid’?” 

“Well, you’re acting like I made you fall in love with me when really, I’ve been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and tell me that since we were in eighth grade!” 

You two must look insane to the patrons leaving the restaurant—two strangers arguing in the parking lot about who loves each other more and for how much longer.

“If that’s true, then why’d you go and date that dill weed?” 

Guffawing at his response, you look at him like he’s off his rocker. “What was your argument again? I had to go meet somebody,” you deepen your voice, mocking his earlier confession. 

Stepping toe-to-toe with you, he leans into your face, “You piss me off!” 

Chest huffing with angered breaths, you copy his movements, leaning into him, nearly nose-to-nose, “You piss me off!”

Labored breaths leave matching open mouths, his eyes dart down to your gloss covered lips. “I really wanna kiss you,” he breathes out with barely restrained desire. 

Roving eyes dart from his obsidian gaze to his pink lips, stuttered breaths form desperate words, “Go break up with your girlfriend.” 

Eddie’s head bobs forward on its own accord, hungry lips crawling for home on yours, but he won’t let your relationship start with cheating. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

Having to consciously tell his feet to step back, he removes himself from your intoxicating orbit, nodding his head with heavy breaths. “Okay.”

Missing the loss of his body heat, you copy his nod—self-restraint is virtuous and necessary, but god, do you want to rip his clothes off in the middle of this parking lot. “Okay,” you repeat—the only word your trance allows you to form.

“I’ll be right back. Wait for me at your place, okay?” He’s backing up, demanding finger hovering in the air, pinning you to your word. 

A nervous grin spreads across your face, “Okay.” 

You watch as he keeps his eyes on you for as long as he can until he has to turn around to find his van. Letting out a sigh, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart, you laugh to yourself, “Okay.”

A/N: I'm easing back into writing after losing the motivation so quickly on a random day. I got v sad and v depressed all at once, but this was the first idea that got me to write again. Like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed it. Lmk if you like my work because it helps to keep me writing.

Tag List: @defututus @ratsematary @american-idiot-jpg @glassbxttless @justalotoffanfiction @savybabyyy @thepinkpanther83 @sorayasworld @slaytheusurper @dangerousnbeautiful @hellmastereddie @ali-r3n @lilithera0 @tlclick73 @joonbread @jesterghuleh @bellalillyrose @bigboymoozz @am0iur @pastelpoppies @lionkingshiddenmessage 

"Two Sides of The Same Coin" Chapter List

The Grumpy x Sunshine Series story! AO3⏐Wattpad⏐Two Sides Of The Same Coin Playlist

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

Chapter 1 - Welcome To New York Chapter 2 - State of Grace Chapter 3 - Ready for It? Chapter 4 - Holy Ground Chapter 5 - Wonderland Chapter 6 - It’s Nice To Have A Friend Chapter 7 - The Archer Chapter 8 - Mad Woman Chapter 9 - I Did Something Bad Chapter 10 - Hoax Chapter 11 - So It Goes… Chapter 12 - Delicate Chapter 13 - Mirrorball Chapter 14 - We Were Happy Chapter 15 - A Place In This World Chapter 16 - Everything Has Changed Chapter 17 - The Joker and The Queen Chapter 18 - I’m Only Me When I’m With You Chapter 19 - The Outside Chapter 20 - Bad Blood Chapter 21 - Nothing New Chapter 22 - Safe and Sound Chapter 23 - Dancing With Our Hands Tied Chapter 24 - You Are In Love Chapter 25 - Peace Chapter 26 - Invisible String Chapter 27 - False God Chapter 28 - Exile Chapter 29 - Renegade Chapter 30 - Out Of The Woods Chapter 31 - Long Live Chapter 32 - Last Kiss Chapter 33 - Come Back…Be Here Chapter 34 - Breathe Chapter 35 - All Too Well Chapter 36 - Don’t Blame Me Chapter 37 - Evermore Chapter 38 - Long Story Short (Epilogue) Chapter 39 - Daylight (Epilogue) Chapter 40 - Begin Again (Prologue) Chapter 41 - Welcome To New York (Outtake) Chapter 42 - Treacherous (Outtake) Chapter 43 - Enchanted (Outtake) Chapter 44 - This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (Outtake) Bonus Chapter (Wedding Fluff) - Going To The Chapel And They’re Gonna Get Married The Interrogation Even More Outtakes AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

You'd Have to Stop the World...

12.5k words, FWB Eddie X afab!reader, 18+ Explicit Content - MDNI, use of "baby" as a nickname, no use of y/n, set in Hawkins 1990 so everyone's aged up accordingly, no mention of upside down - could sorta be canon if you pretend vecna was defeated and eddie never got attacked by the bats but reader wouldn't know it ever existed.

a/n: most of my ideas are usually inspired by a song - the concept for this came entirely through a playlist I made, so l added the track list! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading and as always, I hope you enjoy!

Struggling through a dry spell, an ideas comes to you when your attractive friend Eddie vents about his recent disappointing hookups. What starts as casual fun gradually complicates as physical and emotional boundaries begin to blur.

“I keep recalling things we never did / Messy top lip kiss / How I long for our trysts / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?”

A few years ago, you met Eddie Munson, thanks to an introduction from your then coworkers, Robin and Steve. What began as a casual acquaintance in a larger group quickly evolved into a genuine friendship.

But as with many great friendships, a new romance - this time with Matt - changed the dynamics. As your relationship with Matt grew, so did the distance between you and Eddie. Matt didn’t like him, his dislike fueled by a few key grievances: he accused Eddie of overcharging for weed, could barely tolerate Eddie’s metal music - and was visibly irritated by the number of times you dragged him to Eddie’s shows. Yet, beneath it all, Matt’s discomfort had a more personal edge. He was convinced there was something more to your friendship, despite your insistence on its platonic nature.

“Okay, sure, whatever you say,” Matt insisted, his tone dripping with frustration. “But I’m telling you, he definitely wants to fuck you.”

Matt’s reasoning included:

• “He never makes you pay for weed.” 

⁃ Ah, the classic move of the charming drug dealer - Robin and Steve are also lucky recipients of Eddie's personal stash. Generosity? Sure. A sign of deeper feelings? Unlikely. 

• “He flirts with you.”

⁃ Eddie flirts with everyone. This isn’t a private act of seduction - it’s his default setting. And sure, before you dated Matt maybe you’d indulge in Eddie’s flirty nature but it was just all in good fun. 

• "He call's you - Baby." 

⁃ The nickname was not some romantic gesture, Eddie's just a menace. It all started after a shift at Family Video, you and Robin went back to Steve's house. Eddie made an entrance, a blunt was passed, and you started rambling about the ridiculousness of the name "Baby" in Dirty Dancing. "You know, it's funny you hate it because 'Baby' suits you perfectly," Eddie quipped. You shot him a look of annoyance, but Eddie, with that trademark grin, decided it was a keeper and has called you it ever since. 

• “The way he fucking looks at you.” 

⁃ This is where the plot thickens. While the other signs are easily explained, you didn't quite see what Matt was ever referring to. 

Yet, every time Matt voiced his theories, your mind couldn’t help but drift to thoughts of Eddie in bed. He had quite the reputation as a good fuck and it was undeniable that he was incredibly attractive. But the guilt of entertaining these thoughts, especially while with Matt, was crushing. So, you shoved them aside.

In December of '89, Matt accepted a job that meant relocating out of state. By then, your relationship had lost its spark, of course, except for the one area where it still managed to flicker - the bedroom. You both knew it was time to let go, the idea of a long distance romance wasn't practical when the only thing holding you together required physical proximity you would no longer share.

Despite it being the obvious choice - the end of nearly two years together was tough, but as the saying goes, when one door closes, another opens. With Matt no longer in the picture, your calendar quickly filled with late nights and laughter, surrounded by Robin, Steve, Eddie, and your ever expanding social circle. It was the start of a new era, as you entered the new decade. 

"These fatal fantasies / Giving way to labored breath / Taking all of me / We've already done it in my head / If it's make believe / Why does it feel like a vow / We'll both uphold somehow?"

Four months into being single, and the dry spell was becoming a cruel joke. Every date you'd been on had left much to be desired, as none of them ever ended with you on your back. Ultimately a waste of your time. 

It was an added frustration to be out with Eddie and watch him glide from one partner to the next with such ease. You even found yourself feeling a bit envious of his conquests, because the more time you began spending with him, the more you understood why Matt had his suspicions. 

On quite a few occasions, you caught Eddie's gaze lingering on you. The stolen glances and charged looks sent your heart racing. Gone were the days of pushing these thoughts away. Now, you found yourself indulging in them, late at night, hand between your thighs, wondering if the fantasies might ever become reality. 

“Don’t play dumb, I know you fantasize. You could have me on my back every night.”

One night, after having your friends over for dinner, Eddie decided to stay and chill after Robin and Steve had left. He sprawled on your couch, legs draped over the coffee table, grumbling about the monotony of his recent casual encounters and the lack of sexual chemistry he'd been experiencing.

Eddie looked at you, cutting himself off mid rant, his fingers deftly rolling a blunt. "It's cool if I smoke in here, right? Or d'ya want me to go on the balcony?" 

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I don't usually love it, but why not for tonight?"

With a grin, Eddie continued on his ranting as he finished rolling. Lighting the blunt and taking a long drag when he finished his complaint. 

"Okay, but bad sex is more often than not, still enjoyable," you said, in response to his last comment. 

Eddie held out the blunt offering you to take a hit and while normally you’re pretty weary to cross fade, you were feeling adventurous as you grabbed it from his fingers taking a hit. 

"I get what you're saying, but nothing's been like, mind-blowing. I was getting head the other day, and I was literally counting the minutes until it was over. I think it would've been more enjoyable if I'd just taken care of myself." 

You let out a laugh, the smoke escaping in a light cloud. "You think counting maybe prolonged the experience a bit, bud?" Passing the blunt back to Eddie. 

"No, baby, the counting's what got me there." He smirked before taking another hit. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but his words sparked thoughts of your own dissatisfaction.

The two of you sat there listening to the soft sounds of The Cure album you had on, as you took turns with the blunt. Eddie's gaze didn't leave you, his eyes focused on your lips - the movements of your mouth. The subtle way your lips parted and closed around the blunt had him entranced. 

You were too lost in your own thoughts to notice his staring. "I think this is one of those grass is greener situations. l'd take the bad sex. There's only so much I can satisfy myself, and sometimes I- well, I just want to get railed." The words slipped out before you could fully think them through but as soon as they did, you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

Eddie's eyes widened slightly, a blush of his own creeping onto his face as he exhaled smoke. "Oh sure." You'd always been open about discussing sex, but this was a new level of candor for you and it caught him by surprise. It also made his cock twitch.  

You weren't sure what it was - the alcohol, the pot, the adrenaline from your embarrassment, - but Eddie's complaints mixed with your own dissatisfaction sparked an idea. You set your wine glass down, turned to face him, and criss-crossed your legs on the couch.

Passing what was left of the blunt back, you asked the question that's been on your mind for weeks.

”Eddie… are you attracted to me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

"What?" He asked as he put the blunt out.

"Eddie," you pressed. 

He chuckled, the sound a bit shaky. "Everyone thinks you're pretty, you know that."

"That's not what I asked," you countered. "I'm asking if you think I'm like, hot - not just pretty."

A smirk played on Eddie's lips as his eyes scanned over your figure, nodding. “Yeah, you’re hot,” he said, taking a sip of his beer and letting his eyes linger on how the soft fabric of your clothes hugged your chest. Truth be told, he thought you were fucking heaven sent. 

"So why haven't you made a move? I've been single for months." 

"You know me, baby. No attachments. Couldn't have you falling in love with me."

You scoffed. "Really, that's your excuse?"

His gaze met yours, a touch of defensiveness in his eyes. "It's not an excuse. It's just how I am. I don't hook up with friends, it can get messy." 

"Got it," you replied, considering letting it go, but curiosity had taken hold. "Do you ever fantasize about them, though?”

A wry smile appeared on his lips. "Depends on the friend, I guess.”

"Cut the shit, Munson.”

His smile grew. "Alright, yeah. A lot more than I probably should have.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "If it's any consolation, I've fantasized about you a fair bit too.”

"Oh, yeah?" he breathed, his voice huskier than before.

"Mmm-hmm." You shook your head slowly, maintaining eye contact. You noticed the way Eddie's eyes darted down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. 

"What about?" he asked.

"I could tell you," you whispered, "or I could show you.”

Eddie's laughter was shaky as he looked away, running his hand through his hair. "Tempting," he whispered, leaning back and trying to create some distance. His arousal, however, was unmistakable. 

The room fell silent. You could see the inner conflict in his eyes: the struggle between desire and his self imposed boundaries. The sight of Eddie's hard cock straining against his jeans had your pulse quickening more than the conversation had. You felt yourself growing wet, the heat between your thighs demanding attention.

"So even though it's clear we both want this, you're willing to just let it go because of some vague principle?" you asked, frustration tinging your voice.

Eddie's expression grew serious. "I wouldn't want to complicate our friendship just to get off.”

"And if I promised you it wouldn't complicate anything, that nothing would have to change - it would just be a good time?”

His breath hitched at your words, his eyes soaking in your presence. "Then... maybe I’d rethink some things."

You sighed, acknowledging his hesitation but also feeling the urgency of your own desire whether Eddie joined you or not.

“Well, you think about that,” you said, standing up and heading toward your bedroom. “You’re welcome to join me if you decide you’re in. If you decide to leave, the spare key is by the door. Just lock up and I’ll get it next time.” You closed the door behind you

Eddie sat on the couch contemplating for all of 5 minutes before his decision was made. Of course he wasn't going to let this moment pass him by. He stood up, his mind racing as he walked toward your room.   

When Eddie opened the door, he found you lying in bed, bathed in the amber glow of your lamp, only in your panties. You were lost in your own pleasure, hand moving beneath the fabric, eyes closed tight as breathy moans escaped your lips. 

"Fuck," Eddie muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on the scene before him. He froze, taking in every detail. The gentle, desperate movements of your fingers, the soft sway of your breasts, and the way your lips formed an O with every soft whimper. He was mesmerized.

He moved closer, cautious not to disrupt the moment. You whispered his name, soft and needy. "Eddie..."

The sound of your voice, so vulnerable and inviting, was nearly enough to push him over the edge. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that came from the very core of his being. As he stood at the end of the bed, your eyes fluttered open, taking in his presence.

You kept your eyes locked on him, focusing on his face, the way his gaze was fixed on you.

Looking at you like this, made him feel as if he was witnessing the eighth wonder of the world. "What are you thinking of?" Eddie asked, needing to understand what was driving you.

"That this is your hand instead of mine, just like l've been imagining for weeks," you admitted, voice trembling slightly.

Eddie's breath hitched. "Can I see all of you?" he asked, desperation lacing his voice as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

You nodded, slowly sliding your panties down your legs and tossing them aside, revealing your glistening cunt. You returned your hand, teasing yourself gently. Eddie's eyes were fixed on you, the sight almost too much for him to bear, a low whimper escaping his lips.

"How would you touch me, if it were your fingers?" you asked, voice a seductive whisper.

Eddie slid up from his spot on the edge of the bed, closer to your side, as he began directing you on how he would pleasure you, eyes glued to your movements. "I'd start by gently tracing my fingers, just like you are now."

You whimpered as he continued his instructions, caught between the fantasy he was describing and the reality of your own touch. His guidance was driving you wild, but the need for his direct touch was growing unbearable. Breathlessly, you said, "Eddie, please."

“Tell me what you need,” he rasped, his eyes locked on yours. 

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

Eddie knew what you meant; you wanted him to replace your fingers - but he needed to kiss you and at the vague request for his touch he couldn't help but use that as his cue. He leaned in, his body hovering over yours, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was rough, and raw as if years of restrained longing were unleashed in that heated moment. His lips were demanding, his tongue wrestled with yours, the taste of beer mixing with moscato. You bit his lip and Eddie’s groan was deep. 

His free hand found its way to your thigh, gripping it tightly, driving you further into your own touch. The intensity of his actions only heightened your pleasure. You gasped into his mouth as your climax hit. Eddie’s grip on your thigh never letting up as you clung to him, struggling to steady yourself through your orgasm. 

As the waves began to subside, you whispered raggedly, “I need you.”

Eddie trailed his hand from your thigh to your cunt, only for you to stop his hand. “No. I need more, I need you inside of me. Now.” 

Eddie groaned at your desperate plea for him to fill you. Without a word, he began undressing. His breathing was labored as he quickly removed his shirt, tossing it aside. He fumbled with his jeans, eager and clumsy in his haste to free his hard cock. When he finally did, you let out an audible gasp, taking in the sight of him. He was so fucking perfect.

“How do you want it, baby?” He asked, eager to give you anything you’d ask for. 

“What have you fantasized about?”

Eddie hesitated, “We don’t have to -”

“Tell me,” you demanded. 

“You, um, you’ve got great tits,” he all about moaned. “I think about you riding me a lot.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you pushed him back to lean against the pillows, a sly smile on your lips. You reached for a condom from the nightstand, tearing open the wrapper with a quick, practiced motion, and rolled it over his throbbing cock. Eddie’s eyes followed your every move, sighing at your touch. 

With a deep, steadying breath, you positioned yourself above him. Your hands rested on the headboard while his hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging in as he watched you. Slowly, you began to lower yourself, the initial contact making both of you gasp. The incredible stretch of his cock stung as he you lowered yourself down inch by inch. It was almost overwhelming, but so perfectly pleasurable. Eddie’s eyes widened, his breath coming in quick, ragged bursts. 

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands tightened on your thighs, reminding you just how much he wants this.

You continued to sink down, savoring the sensation of being filled. Once fully seated, you paused to adjust, getting accustomed to his size. Eddie wasn’t the longest you’d ever had, but by no means was he small. Close to 7 inches if you had to guess. He was however, the thickest not by an absurd amount but enough to notice the  difference. He felt phenomenal. 

You began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down. The room began filling with the sound of your mingled moans. As you established a steady rhythm, Eddie’s moans grew more frequent, his grip sure to leave bruises. “Fuuuuuck,” he repeated, his voice rough with pleasure.

You shifted from leaning forward to putting your full weight on him, arching your back slightly as you moved your hands from the headboard to behind you, resting them on his thighs. In this position, you had better control and began to increase your pace.

“Aghh - just like that,” Eddie groaned. “Show me how much you want it." Eddie’s eyes were locked on you, taking in every detail - the bounce of your breasts, the flush on your cheeks, the intense pleasure on your face. You looked stunning.

He moved his hands to your breasts, groaning as he squeezed them gently. He adjusted himself so he was sitting up, his hands moving to roam over the rest of your body as he began kissing your skin. He started at your collarbone and moved along your chest until he reached your left breast. Kissing and nipping at the soft skin before enveloping your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. You shuddered at the added stimulation, moving to rest your hands on his shoulder for better stability as he moved his mouth to your right nipple. 

You were finding it hard to keep quiet, biting your lip to stifle your moans as the combination of his mouth and the fullness of his cock drove you closer to ecstasy.

Eddie, however, was having none of that. Removing his mouth from you chest, “Don’t hold back," he rasped. "Let the whole fucking building know how good it feels to have my cock inside you.”

You let yourself moan freely, the sounds echoing in the room as you quickened your pace.

"Ooooohhh god,” you cried out as your orgasm began to build. 

You swirled your hips, adding a tantalizing motion that made Eddie mumble curses of pleasure. His hands moved to your hips, gripping firmly as he reclined against the pillows. You leaned forward with him, placing your arms on his chest for support as you rode him with increased intensity.

“Such a good girl,” Eddie said in awe, his eyes locked on you as you chased your orgasm. The praise spurred you on, and you let out a loud cry. Eddie’s lips curled into a wry smile as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you.

“You like that, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

You whimpered a feeble “yes,” your voice barely audible as you tried to keep up with the intense pleasure.

“Thought you might,” he chucked. “Be the good girl that you are and cum for me,” Eddie instructed.

That was all it took. Your hips began to falter as your orgasm ripped through you, sending your body into a shuddering climax. Eddie’s groans of satisfaction grew louder as he watched you come undone on top of him. He gripped your hips tightly, taking over control and thrusting into you with a fierce rhythm, pushing you seamlessly into another orgasm.

As you came down, your body collapsed against Eddie's, still trembling from the aftermath of your third orgasm. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, the intensity of the pleasure overwhelming you. Eddie, sensing your exhaustion, slowed his thrusts, his hands gently tangling in your hair as he lifted your face to look at him.

“Shit Eds” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can come again.” 

Eddie’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Sure you can, baby. You haven’t even gotten what you wanted yet,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before repositioning you both.

The sudden loss of him inside you made you whimper, the emptiness leaving you desperate to be filled again. Eddie lifted you, placing you on your knees, and then knelt behind you. His hands took hold of your hips, and he lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you with a forceful, deep motion. The immediate fullness made you moan, the new position allowing him to penetrate you more deeply and hit your g-spot perfectly with every thrust.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you cried out, your voice raw with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm.

“This is what you wanted, right baby? To get railed?” Eddie asked, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper. His hands squeezed the flesh of your ass as he drove into you.

“Yes!” you cried out. “Please Eddie, harder,” tears streaming down your face.  He responded by pounding into you just as you asked. 

Leaning forward, Eddie kissed the skin along your back, his teeth grazing your flesh with gentle bites, adding another layer of sensation. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white from the strain, as desperate cries of pleasure fell from your lips. His left hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it frantically.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need. Eddie’s fingers worked your clit with determined precision, the added stimulation making it clear you were about to lose it.

As the pleasure built to its peak, you screamed his name, your body shaking uncontrollably as you came. Eddie’s grip on you tightened, his thrusts never faltering as he felt you clenching around him.

“There it is,” he moaned, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt you coming undone. Your mascara ran down your cheeks in streaks, merging with your tears as you reached the height of your pleasure. Eddie continued to pound into you as your orgasm subsided, savoring the way you responded to him.

He was relentless, driven by his own need to reach his climax. He removed his hand from your clit,  gripping your hips firmly as he thrusted into you with increased force. “I want you to cum with me,” he growled.

You cried out, your voice filled with desperation. "I-I ahhh..." Your words were swallowed by your moans as Eddie kept thrusting. 

"You can do it," he encouraged, his voice low and steady. "I know you can."

Eddie's thrusts grew more intense, his rhythm never faltering as he drove you toward another climax. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his own breath coming in ragged bursts as he neared his release.

"Atta girl," Eddie growled. His thrusts grew sloppy, driven by the raw intensity of the moment. You clenched around him, surrendering to the pleasure as euphoria washed over you. The sensation was all -consuming, a final, powerful climax that left you gasping.

Eddie's own climax hit hard. He let out a string of moans, his body shuddering as it hit. His thrusts became erratic, his grip on your ass tightening as he rode out his release.

Eddie collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily, basking in the afterglow. The intensity of the night had left you feeling dizzy and euphoric, your body still tingling from multiple orgasms - five mind blowing orgasms, to be exact. The most you’d ever had with a partner before was three - and while still sensational it was nothing compared to this. Making it clear that Eddie Munson was the best fuck you’ve ever had.

As you started to come down, you glanced over at Eddie. He was staring at the ceiling, his face a mix of disbelief and deep thought. "Eddie, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Can I level with you?" he asked, his voice serious.

"Of course," you replied.

"It's pretty obvious that what we just had was too good to be a one-off," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "And it's not going to be easy to just go back like this never happened. I mean, I can't just pretend I don't know you've got a praise kink." He teased. 

"Eddie!" You laughed, giving him a playful nudge.

"I'm only half kidding. I clocked that shit when I tried to teach you guitar, this just confirmed it," he admitted with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your lips. “So, what's your point?"

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and looking at you seriously. “If you can handle keeping it casual, I think we should do this again.”

“Fucking hell, Munson didn't we address this on the couch? I wanted to fuck you, I'm not in love."

Eddie laughed. “Right, I know. But sometimes it can lead to that, and I just want to make sure you understand if we continue to hook up it will never be anything but physical. I can never offer you more, is that clear?" 

You grinned. “Crystal. 

"So, friends with benefits?” He asked. 

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as your eyes locked with his. 

"It's a Sexually Explicit Kind of Love Affair" 

Two months had passed since you and Eddie established your friends-with-benefits arrangement, and you had both adhered to a set of rules: open communication, no exclusivity, and keeping things private. Your frequent hookups had become a thrilling part of your routine, each encounter more intense than the last, and quite a few that were unforgettable. 

Fucked You in the Bathroom When We Went to Dinner:  The two of you went to dinner with your friends to celebrate Vicky’s birthday. Amid the celebrations, you and Eddie shared knowing glances across the table and when the opportunity arose, you both slipped away, heading towards the restaurant's bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Eddie's hands were on you, pulling you close. He pressed your back against the wall, as his lips found yours in a rough kiss. His mouth began trailing along your jaw as you you reached down to unbuckle his belt. Eddie's pants were down around his knees, his hands hiking your dress up, growling when he saw you had no panties on. You lifted your leg, resting it on the sink, back still pressed to the wall as Eddie wasted no time before guiding himself into you. Your hands immediately threading through his hair as he sunk in. 

Eddie's thrusts were urgent and desperate. "Fuck, can’t get enough of you," Eddie gasped, his breath hot against your neck. 

You could only respond with a series of breathless moans. The pleasure building rapidly as Eddie's movements grew more intense. His hands gripped your hips firmly,  holding you in place as he drove into you. 

Your climax was approaching quickly, and you couldn't help but let out shrieks of pleasure. Eddie's hand reluctantly coming to cover your mouth to stifle the sounds. He loved hearing you, but not here. 

“Shh, baby. I know." He whispered feeling you beginning to clench around him. You bit the palm of his hand to stop the scream that was desperate to escape you as your climax hit. His thrusts growing erratic as he came with you, burying his face in your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

As you both caught your breath, you quickly adjusted your clothes, and you fixed Eddie's hair. You walked out first heading back to the table. Eddie arrived a few minutes later, drink in his hand as if he had been at bar the whole time, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he sat down.  

Knee Deep in the Passenger Seat: It'd been a lively evening out at the bar playing pool with Chrissy, Eddie and his bandmates. You were keenly aware of the effect your outfit was having on Eddie as you'd chosen a particularly short skirt that barely covered your lacy black panties if you moved too much. So each time you bent over to take a shot, your underwear was tantalizingly visible. 

As you lined up for another shot, Eddie approached, leaning in close.  To any onlookers it would seem like he was giving you a tip to make your shot. "You're such a fucking tease," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned your head slightly, catching his eye with a sly grin. "I know, but you love it," you whispered back. 

Eddie's gaze was fixed on you as he walked back to his spot against the wall. As you knelt over the table to take your shot, a smirk tugged at your lips knowing he was clearly struggling to focus on anything other than the view you were providing. 

If Eddie could have had his way, he would have sunk to his knees right there and ate you out while you were bent over that pool table. But patience is a virtue. 

As you turned to face him after landing your shot, you knew he was trying to maintain his composure.

When it was time to leave, Eddie offered to take you home.  "Chris, I’ve got her. I pass her apartment on my way home anyway.” While that was true, you knew that wasn't his plan.

As you walked out, Eddie's eyes never left you, his gaze focused on the way your hips swayed with each step. When you reached the van, he opened the passenger door for you and you slid into the seat, feeling his intense gaze on you. 

As you settled in your seat, you looked at Eddie who was still standing next to you. A sly grin pulling at his lips, as he stepped in. You were confused until he knelt down on the floor in front of you, shutting the door. His expression one of eagerness.

With his hands now gripping your thighs, he pushed your skirt up, his fingers brushing against your skin. "I've been wanting to taste you all fucking night," he hummed, his voice low and filled with need. 

You looked down at him, a teasing smirk on your lips. "Aw look at you, did I tease you so much that you can't even wait?"

Eddie’s big doe eyes, looked a lot less innocent in this position, darkening at your words. Hunger written all over his face. 

In an instant he pulled your panties to the side, leaning forward so his head was nestled between your thighs. His tongue making contact with your bare slit, with a tantalizing slow lick. You gasped at the feeling. Eddie moaned against your pussy, "You taste so goddamn good,” his voice vibrating through your core. 

The moment his tongue touched your clit, he was relentless, alternating between licking and sucking. Your eyes rolling in the back of your head as he savored you. 

Within just a few short minutes you were a moaning mess, hands tangled in his hair, breath ragged, eyes screwed tight as you could feel yourself on the brink of your orgasm. Then suddenly, Eddie pulled away. Your release immediately ripped away from you. 

His face flushed and glistening with your essence, looked up at you with a smirk. “Look at that, I can be just as much of a tease as you," he rasped.

You whined at the loss of contact. "Please, Eddie.” 

“You’ll have to wait, baby.” He said, readjusting your underwear and skirt, wiping his mouth as he dipped out of the van and walked to the drivers side.

Truth be told, this was just as upsetting for him as it was for you. You were intoxicating and if he was being honest he’d love nothing more than to continue to devour your sweet cunt until you came all over his tongue - multiple times. But he thought it only fair that you feel the same strain that he had all night. He’d make it worth the wait when he got you to his trailer. 

You're on your knees, I'm on the case: You had the day off, so what better way than to spend it in Eddie's bed. When you arrived at his trailer, he answered the door shirtless, wearing only boxers with a towel draped over his shoulder.

"I'm about to shower," Eddie said, ushering you inside and closing the door behind you. "I'll be out soon. Feel free to watch TV, the remote's on the table."

As Eddie went to shower, you settled on his couch, finishing up the episode of Seinfeld that was on. After about ten minutes, you began to get restless.

You could hear the shower running, steam cascading into the hall because Eddie didn't shut the door completely. You made your way to the bathroom, knocking on the door to let him know you were there as you walked in. 

"Be out in a second, just gotta rinse my hair."

"Mind if I join ya instead?" 

There was a brief pause before he responded, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure, come on in."

You quickly undressed and slipped into the shower the steam enveloping you. You were facing Eddie as the water was cascading down his hair. Some droplets hitting your body, as Eddie glanced over you with a grin. 

You gave him a playful smirk before immediately dropping to your knees, positioning yourself in front of his hardening cock. Eddie's eyes locked onto you, filled with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, the warmth of the water mingling with the heat of your breath. Eddie's response was immediate. His breath hitched, at the feeling. "Ahhh," he grunted, his voice thick with pleasure. 

You began to move, sliding your lips up and down his length with practiced ease. Eddie's hands gripped the shower bar for support, his fingers tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Holy Shit," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're so good, that feels so fucking good." 

You continued your rhythm, your mouth and tongue working him expertly. Eddie's groans grew louder, the pleasure clearly overwhelming him. "Oh god, yes," he panted, his hips thrusting gently to match your movements. 

The water continued to cascade around you both, mingling with the sounds of Eddie's pleasure as you pushed him closer to the edge. "Don't stop, baby" he urged, his voice breaking. "I'm gonna cum."

With a final, deep stroke, Eddie came hard. You kept your mouth on him, sucking every drop as he moaned and gasped, his hands gripping the shower wall for dear life bracing himself.

His face was flushed, a mix of steam and sweat glistening on his skin. He looked down at you with awe and satisfaction. "You're fucking amazing," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

You stood up, and Eddie cupped your face, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. As your mouths moved together ,his cock began hardening again, ready for round two in his room.

"I know, "Baby, No Attachment!"

As the months passed the frequency of your encounters with Eddie had evolved beyond merely getting off. At first you considered that it was just your friendship deepening, but as time went on, you couldn't help but feel that these interactions between you were teetering the line of something more. 

Eddie's band practices had effortlessly blended into your weekly routine. “Want to come to practice again?” he’d ask, flashing a grin. The first time he invited you, you joked about whether he had a fantasy of hooking up in Gareth’s garage or something. Eddie only laughed and said, “Nah, I just figured you might enjoy hearing us play and I thought it’d be nice to have you there.” Of course you went, and enjoyed every second of it, maybe even more than the shows. Seeing Eddie perform offstage, goof around with his bandmates, and brainstorm new arrangements was incredibly fun to witness.

By the third week into attending practice, Eddie offered another invitation. “Want to come with me to visit Wayne this Sunday?” he asked one afternoon. You hadn’t seen Wayne since he left Eddie the trailer, and although the invite surprised you, you agreed. Wayne’s warm hospitality was a delight, and seeing Eddie with his uncle gave you a new insight into his life - it felt special he shared it with you. 

You began noticing more changes in your own habits. Instead of going to social events alone, you often opted to ride with Eddie. Your weekend hookups had bloomed into near everyday occurrences, leading you to spend a lot more time at his trailer, as it offered much more privacy than your apartment - Eddie and you were rather loud. Eddie's loud anyway, but when he's inside you he doesn't shut up. Always talking you through it, telling you how good you're making him feel and he loves hearing what he does to you, so you never hold back. 

On more than a few occasions you’d accidentally fallen asleep over there, and eventually Eddie just began inviting you to stay the night in the first place. Gradually, your personal items like a toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, and your favorite books made their way over. You were there so often that it was shifting from a convenient arrangement to something that felt more like a shared space.

The boundaries you’d set were being tested, and it was becoming harder to maintain the pretense that this was purely physical. The line between attraction and emotional connection was blurring, and although Eddie had always insisted that this arrangement was meant to stay casual, his actions seemed to contradict that. In those soft moments with him, at practice or Wayne's, or when you were lying in his bed wrapped up in his arms after another incredible fuck, you found yourself dreaming of more and every time you did you'd think back to Matt's insistence that there was something between you and Eddie. Back then you thought it was Matt's jealously, eventually giving way that it was underlying attraction but now like this you can't help but think maybe there has always been more simmering between you both. 

You didn't dare say it though, you wanted to remain the “chill girl” who didn’t push. But the more time that passed the more you felt caught between holding your tongue and addressing the growing complexity of the situation.  

"It's fine, it's cool, you can say that we're nothing but you know the truth." 

The summer heat was beginning to wane as you and Eddie arrived at Steve’s Labor Day party. 

You were enjoying yourself, chatting with Nancy when you overheard a conversation nearby. Eddie was talking to Chrissy, who had just referred to you and he as a couple. 

“Oh, no, we’re not together,” Eddie said, a dismissive edge in his voice as he responded. The words hit you like a slap. You knew what you had signed up for, but it still stung, especially when the lines had been blurring for months. 

You attempted to shake it off, focusing on the friends around you. However, as the evening wore on, the frustration you felt was hard to ignore. Eddie’s behavior had been increasingly confusing. And this comment felt like the final straw - if your friends could see it, why couldn't he? 

When the party ended, Eddie drove you back to his trailer with Metallica blasting through the speakers. The music did little to ease the anger you were feeling. 

Once inside the trailer, Eddie reached out his hands gripping your waist, as his lips found yours. The kiss felt good, almost intoxicating, but your anger quickly reclaimed its hold as the words "we're not together" echoed in your mind.

You pulled back, needing a moment to regain your composure. Eddie’s eyes searched yours, confusion in his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly.

"I'm not really feeling it right now,” you said firmly, pulling away from his touch. "I think I'm going to head home actually." 

Eddie’s face fell for a moment before a small smile played at his lips. "You don't need to go, stay the night. We can watch a movie."

A few months ago, this invitation would have felt like a friendly gesture. After all, the beauty of a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement is that it starts with a foundation of friendship. But tonight it was just a bitter reminder of how these nights have morphed into something much more complex. At the start of your arrangement, movie nights often transitioned from watching the film to fucking until the credits rolled. This felt natural, expected. But now the dynamic of movie nights has grown significantly more intimate; cuddling on the couch, Eddie softly playing with your hair, and gentle kisses between scenes. All gestures that are only typical in, well - relationships. You've had enough. 

"Eddie, are you being avoidant or are you truly oblivious to what's going on?" 

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"Us. This," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "It feels different, and it has for a while now." You took a deep breath, struggling to steady your voice. "Eddie, even our friends notice it."

"This is about Chrissy's comment?" he asked, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"You were so quick to dismiss it."

"We're not a couple, so that probably has something to do with it," he said, with a laugh, his irritation evident. "What was I supposed to say?"

You gave him a short nod, as you began to gather your things. "It's not even about what you said, it's about what you're not saying." 

The frustration was evident on Eddie's face. "I thought we were both on the same page about this," he said, following you.

"Dammit, Eddie," you turned towards him, your voice rising. "We were, but it’s hard to feel like we’re still casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser!"

Eddie’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but he still held his ground. "From the start, I told you I don’t do relationships. I never promised you anything more than what we agreed on."

You scoffed. “I know, and that’s exactly why I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long. But you’ve pulled me into every aspect of your life, and it’s not the same anymore. If you weren’t so hung up on that concept, maybe you’d admit what you’re feeling.”

“Don’t," he said sternly. "Don't try and make me out to be the bad guy because you couldn't keep your own feelings in check.”

His words felt like a punch in your gut. You could feel the lump take perch in throat, trying to swallow it back but the tears were coming. 

Eddie’s expression softened as he noticed your your eyes glistening. He watched helplessly as you continued to pack, his frustration morphing into anguish as tears streamed down your face. "Wait,” he pleaded. "Let's talk, we can take a step back."

Your hands shook as you stuffed your clothes into your bag, sobs coming in ragged, painful gasps. “A step? We'd have to take twenty." you choked out, your voice breaking. 

Eddie looked away, struggling to reconcile your pain with his own fears. "I just, I'm sorry I confused you. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea."

"Maybe you didn't intend for things to change, but they did. We both let them. I did because I liked it, why did you Eddie?" 

His stomach twisted at your words.

 “Every rule we set, you broke," you continued, bitterness lacing your voice. "It was all ‘let’s keep it discreet’ until you kissed me between songs at practice. What the fuck was that?! ‘We need open communication,’ but you never talked about any line we crossed." Your voice rose despite your sobs. "For fucks's sake Eddie, we haven't been exclusive yet for six months, you’ve called after me! Going as far as turning down others because you want me in your bed. Whether we fuck or we don't."

Eddie stood still, motionless, as the weight of your words sunk in.

"You can try to downplay this all you want, but deep down you know. And it's why your past hookups could never satisfy you the way I do.” Tears streamed down your face as you glared at Eddie.

He just stood there, hit with the reality of your words. The silence grew heavy as he struggled to find a response.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I can’t just flip a switch and become something I’m not. I made my stance clear from the beginning." His voice wavering as he spoke. 

You shook your head in disappointment. "Got it." Your tears fell harder, and Eddie’s own eyes were on the verge of tears as he watched you zip up your bag.

“Baby,” he started, his voice trembling as he reached out a hand towards you. 

“Don’t, Eddie,” you scolded, your voice a harsh whisper. “You don't wanna call it love, fine. But it's done." 

Eddie’s face twisted in confusion and frustration as you finished speaking. He seemed to get only a fraction of what you were saying. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice cracking with desperation. "We'll just go back to how it was before. I mean, we can just forget about all this..." 

"You're not getting it, Eds" you replied, your voice steady despite the tears. "I can’t be your friend.” 

Eddie’s face contorted with panic. "No, don’t say that," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I’m sorry I led you on. We can go back - just like it was. We can fix this." Tears welling up as he tries to grasp what you're saying. 

"Eddie, it wasn't just that. This whole thing between us has made me realize that maybe… maybe I had feelings for you long before we hooked up."

Eddie's face pales, his panic escalating as he tries to comprehend what you're saying. "What the fuck is happening right now?" he says, his voice rising in distress. He collapses onto the couch, his body shaking as the gravity of the situation hits him full force.

"Before we, before this, you said you didn't," he mutters, almost to himself, as he tries to reconcile your words with his memories. 

"I didn’t realize it then," you admit, your voice breaking. 

Eddie’s face was wet with his own tears now, his hands trembling as he held his face, taking in your words.  

"I never would’ve let anyone else call me a nickname I hated. Anyone else’s persistence would’ve been stopped but it just sounded so pretty coming from your mouth..." Your voice was choked with emotion. “And I think being honest with myself about that, along with everything we’ve been doing... I've realized that maybe I was  being a fool to think it was ever just attraction."

Eddie breaks down, his tears flowing freely. "Goddammit" he chokes out, his voice thick with regret.  “I can't-"

You cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "I know Eds, you've made it clear," your voiced cracked sobs breaking through the words. "You were right to worry this would get messy, I'm sorry I told you I could handle it." You took a deep breath and looked at him one last time, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. You slung your bag over your shoulder, heading for the door.  "I'd probably do it again though." You whispered. 

"I don't want to lose you,” he said, his voice wavering as he tried to hold back his emotions.

You paused, your heart aching with the weight of his words. "I have to go," you said finally. With one final glance at Eddie, you turned and walked out of the trailer.

“You just need a better life than this / You need somethin' I can never give”

Eddie’s tears fell uncontrollably as you left.  Watching you walk away was like a rift tearing through time and space, an unbearable ache that pierced his soul. 

His mind spiraled in a loop, like a broken record that kept repeating the same line: It was a mistake. He knew better, he knew better than to get involved with you, but he had, and now you were gone. Eddie had wanted to believe that you could handle something casual, he risked it because he had an insatiable hunger that only you had satiated. His own denial ran so deep he hadn’t even fully accepted the magnitude of what was happening between the two of you until your words hit him like a freight train tonight. But as Eddie sat there, drenched in regret, his mind wandered to all things you. 

Eddie had always been branded the freak for being a little outside the box, and while he stayed true to himself it was always a bit toned down when he met new people. However when he met you, he knew he didn't have to do that.  While you could fit neatly into the box, you didn't care to. Eddie was instantly captivated by you, and it wasn't just because you were stunning - it was your wit, and charm that pulled him in. 

He could never forget the first day he realized he wanted to kiss you. It was one of the early times you hung out - that night you were complaining about "Dirty Dancing." You just kept rambling - so comically irritated, he found it hilarious and he wanted to just shut you up with his lips. He couldn't help himself coining, "Baby" for you. It had felt right rolling off his tongue, and even though you shot him an annoyed look, he could’ve sworn he saw a hint of a smile. Eddie then proceeded to try and get you to reenact the lift scene from the movie, but you refused with a firm “Fuck no, Munson.” Robin wouldn't either, but Steve, high as a kite, agreed. Of course it ended with them flat on the floor and the four of you laughing your asses off. For whatever reason that night marked a turning point for your friendship - the two of you began spending time together outside of your shared circle. It was always a little touchy, a little flirty and Eddie was constantly having to push the urge to kiss you outside of his mind. 

Steve was always trying to persuade Eddie to just go for it, but Eddie wasn’t interested. He typically only hooked up with the same person three times - if ever more than once. He feared that if he ever got involved with you he wouldn’t be able to go back, and commitment was something he wasn't into. Fast forward three years and nothing's changed. Still, one night around two years ago he nearly let his guard down. 

A group of you had gathered at a nearby bar before Corroded Coffin’s first paid show at The Hideout.

“Let me buy a round for you guys, a little liquid courage before tonight!" you insisted. Gareth joked that it wasn't necessary when they had Eddie's good luck charm - You. “Is that why you keep me around, Munson?” you teased, planting a playful kiss on his cheek. “For a little extra luck,” you said with a wink and a smile before heading to the bar. In that moment, Eddie was certain he had to kiss you. 

When you returned with a round of tequila shots, your cheeks flushed and your smile bright, you explained that the handsome guy at the bar; Matt - asked you out and then proceeded to buy the round of shots for you when you'd said yes.

As Jeff raised his shot and toasted, "To Matt!" Eddie looked at you, realizing that it was better this way. It would have been foolish to kiss you. You deserved someone who could offer you more. 

Eddie’s mind whirled, jumping from that almost kiss to the fateful night on your couch. He should've went home because from that moment everything changed. You were sensational, the way your body responded to him, the way you sounded, the way you made him feel. He was right to know himself, that after a taste, he would never want to go without. He was selfish for this.

The past 6 months together Eddie had recognized little shifts, but he'd ignored them. Looking back it was probably June when things first began to change from the raw thrill of a good time to something that hinted at a little more intimacy. Your presence had turned his bed into a sacred oasis, where he felt truly seen and understood. The laughter, the warmth, the touch - it was all part of a connection he cherished. Yet, every time it felt like it was too much, he would push it out his head, trying to drown out the truth that he felt something more. Even if he wanted to risk all for you, he couldn’t. He wasn’t good enough to make you his.

This painful realization was a truth he had to face. His fear of inadequacy and his belief that he couldn’t sustain a meaningful relationship had driven a wedge between you. And now, with you gone, he was left grappling with the reality that he had pushed away the one person who had made him question his own defenses. Sitting on his couch, a headache pounding from his tears, he tried to sleep, searching for some sort of peace.

In the weeks that followed, Eddie rarely visited his bedroom. It was a space tainted by your absence. His home felt hollow, so he picked up extra shifts at the diner, and crashed at Gareth’s when he could. He thought about reaching out to you, admitting you were right, that he loved you too, but he knew it wouldn’t change a fucking thing. He still couldn’t give you what you wanted. He wasn’t ready for a relationship, not when he didn’t believe he was enough.

You deserved the best, and Eddie didn’t think he was that. He was still  a pot dealer,  bussing tables to make ends meet and for some free food, just dreaming of a future with his band...

Eddie had been so absorbed in the band that he had drifted from the usual social circle. The only time he’d seen Steve and Robin since your departure was after one of his show the last weekend in September. They had approached him, and Eddie, looking weary and regretful, had apologized for not being around much. He wanted desperately to ask about you - God, he did - but he struggled to find the right words.

When Steve and Robin happened to mention they hadn’t heard from you either, Eddie’s heart sank. You were probably avoiding them, likely to keep from running into him. Steve, with a knowing look, asked if the two of you had gotten involved. Eddie gave a brief, vague answer that painted a picture of your arrangement without exposing too much. 

“Maybe try reaching out to her though.” He suggested. 

 Robin nodded solemnly. “Of course,” she replied, understanding the complexity of the situation without needing more.

The days blurred into weeks as Eddie threw himself into his band, trying to escape the gnawing emptiness and the haunting memory of you. Each gig was an  escape, but it never lasted. The real struggle was coming home to an empty space, a home without the one person who had made everything feel right. 

“Back when we were still changin' for the better / Wanting was enough / For me, it was enough" 

It was the kind of night that makes you want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head, except you weren’t in bed. You were behind the wheel of your car, heading home after leaving the man that you loved. 

As the tears flowed freely, your mind drifted to the most serious relationships you’d had. Your college boyfriend, your relationship with Matt - both seemed like mere practice compared to what you shared with Eddie. He wasn’t just the best fuck you’d ever had, he was the best person you’d ever known. The thought of never being around him again was agonizing.

Returning to your apartment felt like a warm welcome from an old friend. You had spent nearly all of August entwined in Eddie’s bedsheets, living for the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have a future together. You uncorked a fresh bottle of Riesling, not even bothering with a glass as you tried to drown out the fact that Eddie was never truly yours.

Weeks after leaving Eddie, the silence was deafening. The ache of not hearing from him, of not knowing how he was, ate at you incessantly. You knew that this was your choice, yet you'd expected some sign - any sign - that he was still there, still thinking of you.

You threw yourself into work, hoping that staying busy would numb the pain. But this came at a price - you isolated yourself from your friends, avoided their calls, and shut yourself off from the world that might remind you of Eddie. When Robin buzzed your intercom one evening, her arrival was a welcome disruption to your self-imposed exile. She stood at your door with pizza and ice cream in hand, a silent understanding in her eyes.

"Hey," she said softly, a warm smile breaking through her concern. "I thought you could use some company."

You invited her in, your heart heavy as you tried to muster a smile. You sat in your living room, as you finally let your emotions spill out. 

Between sobs, you managed to ask, "How is he?"

Robin took a deep breath, clearly choosing her words carefully. "He hasn't been around either, but Steve and I saw him last weekend, he's been busy with the band. They're doing really well - they’re working hard to catch the eye of an A&R rep to help develop them. When we told him we hadn’t heard from you, he briefly explained why that might but, not that I wouldn't have anyway, but he was one that suggested this." 

He had thought of you. That was enough to make you break down again. Robin wrapped her arms around.

“It’s okay," she whispered.

Robin comforted you the rest of the night. Reassuring you that in time it will get better. As Robin was on her way out you told her that while you missed everyone it was just too hard right now, and you needed more time. 

She nodded, understanding. "We’ll be here whenever you’re ready."

As she left, you felt hope amidst the sadness. But even with that hope, you found it difficult to move forward. You almost mustered the courage to attend Jonathan and Nancy’s Halloween party, but after getting dressed, you couldn’t bring yourself to go. A week later, you had plans for lunch with Steve and Chrissy but the nausea of confronting your emotions kept you from following through. It was still too soon to be around the people who reminded you of Eddie, so you stayed away, in your cocoon of sorrow, hoping that someday the pain would ease enough to allow you to step back into your life.

“And from the outside / It looks like you're tryin' lives on / I miss the old ways / You didn't have to change/ But I guess I don't have a say / Now that we don't talk"

It was the second week of November, and you’d decided to go out for drinks with some colleagues. You were at a bar you’d never been to before, located on the other side of town - quite far from the usual spots you and your friends frequented. With the slim chance of running into anyone you knew, you let your guard down and enjoyed the evening. 

You were so engrossed in your conversation that you almost missed it. At first, you thought you’d imagined it, but then you heard it again. Your stomach dropped, and a wave of heat washed over you as you recognized Eddie’s unmistakable voice. Looking around, it was Gareth you spotted first, and as you looked for Eddie, your heart sank. He looked drastically different - his once long hair was now a buzz cut, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while dressed in a navy striped button-down. His signature leather jacket draped over the back of his chair the only remnant of the man you remembered.

Despite your attempts to refocus on your colleagues, your attention kept drifting back to Eddie and the band. They were celebrating with a round of shots, and you wondered if they were marking a milestone. Since the round of drinks you’d suggested for their first paid gig, you knew they had a tradition of celebrating this way. Your heart sank as you overheard Eddie’s toast: the local station had agreed to start playing their music, and they were promised a small tour around neighboring states in the new year.

Watching the band’s journey over the past three years -  early gigs at house shows to paid gigs at dive bars - you knew you had to say something, not just to Eddie but to all of them. You were proud of their progress, and after witnessing their hard work at countless practices this year, it felt right to acknowledge their accomplishments. And you couldn't deny that it felt a bit like a twist of fate that you both wound up at this bar. 

As your coworkers began wrapping up their night, you excused yourself. You made your way over to the band’s table, your heart racing. As you approached their table, Gareth’s eyes lit up as he saw you.

“Well, look who it is!” Gareth exclaimed, his voice filled with surprise and delight.

Eddie turned, his smile dropped as he took in your presence. 

“Of all the gin joints, you walk into the one I’m in?” you joked, attempting to ease the awkwardness. The band chuckled, and you continued, “I couldn’t help but overhear you guys. I just wanted to come over and say congratulations. I know how hard you’ve all worked.”

The band echoed their gratitude before Gareth suggested you join them. A sudden, overwhelming discomfort gripped you. This was a mistake. Every lingering feeling you had for Eddie was rushing back, and you found yourself struggling to maintain composure. "Oh thank you, but I need to get home” you say, attempting to mask the unease. “But I’m really happy for you all.”

As you start to walk away, Eddie rose from his seat. “Baby, wait" he called out. 

There it was, the nickname only he called you. The one you'd been aching to hear.

You stopped, turning slightly to face him as he reached you. "I um, just wanted to say, thanks for that. I really appreciated you coming to to the table.” 

"Of course." you say softly.

His eyes roam over your figure as he takes in the way your dress fits, and a low, almost involuntary groan escapes him. “Wow, that dress, you.. you look incredible." 

You give him a thankful nod. It hurt you to hear him say that, knowing you'd bought this dress months ago solely with the intention of him taking it off.

"Me? Look at you, you look so.... I don't know. Refined, maybe?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Is that good or…?” 

"Oh y'know you always look good," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I’d be lying if said the hair didn’t shock me a bit at first,” you admit.

Eddie’s eyes soften, and he responds with a chuckle. “It’s weird for me, still. I haven’t had a buzz cut since middle school. But I just needed... a change.” His words hit you harder than expected, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

You nod, unable to hide your emotion.

He smiles, though it’s tinged with sadness. “I want you to know I thought about reaching out but I wasn't sure...." he trailed off. 

You nodded again, acknowledging the sentiment, a small smile on your lips as you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I really should go, but I am truly so proud of you, Eddie,” you said, your voice wavering. “Ever since I met you, I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for what you want and I'm so happy that it's paying off."  

The words seemed to break something in him. Instinctively he reached out, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed into your hair.

You hugged him tightly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, and you wished you could stay there forever. But as much as you wanted to linger, you knew you had to go. You slowly pulled away, forcing a smile through the tears. “I'm really glad I got to see you,” you said softly. 

Eddie looks at you, his gaze lingering as if he’s on the verge of saying something more, but he simply nods. “Me too,” he says quietly. 

“And I’d give up forever to touch you / ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow / you’re the closest that’ll get to heaven that I’ll ever be / and I don’t want to go home right now”

The ride home felt like déjà vu. Another teary-eyed drive to your apartment after walking away from the man you loved.

Once you were home, you sank into the couch. Wrapped in a blanket, tears streamed down your face as The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead album played on the record player. For the 17th of November, the weather was a bit of a mess. It honestly felt poetic, the thunderstorm mirroring the emotions you were feeling. Every crack of thunder echoed your sobs.

About an hour into your pity party, you were starting to regain some composure when the buzz of the intercom startled you. You figured it was your neighbor, who often used the wrong buzzer, so you hit the button to let them in. Just as you were about to lay back in your spot on the couch, you heard a knock at your apartment door. Curious and a bit irritated, you peered through the peephole and froze. It was Eddie, drenched from the rain, with tears streaming down his face. Your heart raced as you swung the door open, and he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Eddie," Before you could utter another word, he started rambling.

“What are the fucking odds you’d be at that bar tonight?” he began, his voice breaking. “On a night that was supposed to be a highlight in my life, all I wanted was to share it with you.” His words came out in fractured gasps, his tears mixing with the rain on his face.

“When you said I fought for everything I wanted, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest... because it’s a lie when I let you leave.” His voice cracked, and he struggled to steady himself.

“I should’ve told you this at the bar,” he choked, his tears falling harder now. “It felt like fucking fate that you were there tonight, and I still let you walk away. Again. I'm so sorry for the way things turned out. I should've fought for us. I should've fought for you. I let you go because I couldn’t admit I loved you. Even though you knew - of course fucking you knew - because you see me, all of me. And you’ve loved me through it, even when I didn’t think it was possible.” He buried his face in his hands, wiping his tears and catching his breath.

“I was convinced I wasn’t enough for you,” he continued. “But you wanted me all the same. I’m so sorry, I should’ve called you weeks ago. I’m sorry for being scared I couldn't be what you deserve, but every day without you has been fucking hell.” His breaths came in jagged, broken waves. “I thought I could move on... but the goddamn world would have to stop before I could ever stop feeling this for you. It’s always been you.”

“Eddie,” you breathed.

Eddie stepped forward, his hands cupping your face. “I'm still not sure if I'm the man you deserve, but I'd like to try if you’ll have me.”

You nodded at his words, tears streaming down your face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss that began tenderly but quickly deepened, fueled by a desperate need to reconnect and erase the distance that had come between you. Your moans mingled as your tongues met, and Eddie's hands tangled in your hair. When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathless, you rested your foreheads together.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you whispered.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead.

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in a truck), dry humping, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, biting/marking, pet names, lot of emotions, enemies to loves, reader has an anxiety attack

word count: 11.1k

a/n: this is one of my halloween stories that i published last year on my ao3, but since i didn't have tumblr at the time, i'm posting them here now that it's spooky season. i think this was one of my first times writing enemies to lovers and i really loved how it turned out. even almost a year later it's still one of my favorite fics i've written, so i hope y'all enjoy!

halloween fics masterlist

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“Are you sure I can’t just wait for you guys outside?” you asked, a whine working its way into your voice despite your best effort to hide your simmering anxiety. You looked at your best friend Yelena and her older sister Natasha with wide, pleading eyes as you stood in line for one of the scariest haunted houses in the state. When they both ignored your puppy dog eyes, you wrapped your arms around yourself, the chunky sweater you wore doing little to protect you from the crisp autumn wind blowing through the fields. Kicking the ground with your boot, you tried not to shiver in your short skirt—you’d stupidly forgone tights—but it was a near thing.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Yelena promised, knocking her shoulder with yours. Your best friend and her sister had been smarter. Yelena wore black jeans, a cropped t-shirt and a thick yellow flannel jacket to combat the autumn chill, while Nat had on dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a green army-style jacket. “I’m sure if you’re really scared, Bucky will hold your hand.” The blonde waggled her eyebrows at you while Nat snickered.

Something fluttered in your stomach at the thought of holding hands with Bucky Barnes—it was ridiculous how the idea still got a reaction out of you, even after all the years you’d known him—but you kept your face blank as Yelena and Nat both watched you closely. You’d never admitted your crush on Bucky to anyone, let alone your best friend. Annoyingly, Yelena could read you too well and she loved to tease you about your infatuation with Nat’s friend. But you still stubbornly refused to admit it.

So although you hoped with all your heart that her suggestion would become a reality, you forced yourself to make a disgusted face, ignoring the flash of triumph in Yelena’s green eyes. “Bucky would rather chop off his arm than hold my hand—he hates me,” you pointed out, reminding your best friend of the biggest reason you knew hoping for anything more with Nat’s friend would be in vain. Unable to talk about Bucky without the sting of disappointment and rejection piercing your heart, and not wanting it to show on your face, you looked around at the crowded area where you waited in line for the haunted house.

You squinted against the afternoon sun, which was high in the sky, washing the fields and orchards and various red wooden buildings in bright light. Thanks to the chilly breeze, it was the perfect autumn day, which meant everyone had had the same thought as you and your friends and decided to spend the day at the fall attraction.

All around you, groups of people milled about, some joining the long line for the haunted house while others walked past the gigantic barn that housed the spooky attraction and continued on to the rest of the farm and its attractions. The haunted house was just one of many at the Barton Family Farm. There was also a corn maze, a pumpkin patch, an apple orchard, a hay ride through the fields, and a petting zoo for the kids. But although Barton’s boasted plenty to do, the haunted house was the farm’s biggest draw—people came from all over the state to go through it. Barton’s haunted house had a reputation for scaring people so badly they needed to be escorted out by staff, there were multiple exits throughout in case people wanted to bail.

Barton’s haunted house was, of course, what attracted your friends, but you were more excited for pumpkin picking and apple cider donuts. Through a lot of pleading and begging, Yelena had managed to talk you into going through the haunted house with her, Nat and Nat’s friends who were set to meet up with you at any moment. Still, you were reluctant.

Another shiver racked your body and you tightened your arms around yourself as you turned back to your friends. “You know I hate haunted houses, why can’t I just meet you guys at the pumpkin patch or something?” you asked again, the whine in your voice more obvious as your anxiety and fear spiked the closer you got to the front of the line.

“Oh no,” a mocking voice said from behind you. “Is the little baby scared of a haunted house?”

You whirled around and came face to face with Bucky Barnes, his ice blue eyes practically sparking with glee at your discomfort. His full lips were curled up into a cruel smirk set into his scruffy, stubbled jaw. Despite yourself, you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him. He was just so damn hot, it wasn’t fair that he hated you so much.

Bucky and his best friend Steve Rogers pulled up next to your group and before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted down Bucky’s body. Despite how stubbornly you avoided talking or thinking about your crush on him, you were helpless when he was right in front of you. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing the way his chest filled out the gray and blue layered shirts he wore, and how his shoulders looked particularly broad in his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed over his dark wash jeans and dark boots before you remembered yourself, forcing your eyes away from Bucky entirely.

Perhaps it was a little childish, but your way of dealing with Bucky—since Nat was always inviting him, Steve and their other friend Sam Wilson to hang out with her, Yelena, and you—was to ignore him. It had the double benefit of keeping up the appearance that you didn’t have a crush on Bucky, and it seemed to frustrate Bucky to no end. You never understood it. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t want you to ignore him either. You hated that his contradictory behavior only made you curious to understand him, instead of turning you off.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warned his best friend as he greeted Nat and Yelena with hugs. He wrapped you up in his arms last, your face squished into the cream cable knit sweater he wore over his own broad chest. Steve squeezed you tight, making you wish—not for the first time—that you had a crush on him instead of his grumpy best friend.

“Barnes wouldn’t know how to be nice if it bit him in the ass,” you sneered as you stepped back from Steve, wrapping your arms around yourself again to fend off the autumn chill. It felt colder without Steve’s warmth and you tamped down on the sudden wish to have Bucky’s arms wrapped around you to keep you warm.

“You think about my ass a lot, doll?” Bucky snarked, the pet name rolling of his tongue like an insult. His smirk grew into a full-blown grin and his blue eyes heated.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Bucky was flirting with you, but you shoved that idea aside. Bucky didn’t flirt with you. He mocked you and teased you and did seemingly everything he possibly could to make it clear he didn’t like you. So why did you still like him—it was a question your foolish heart didn’t have an answer for. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of reacting, you looked away from Bucky, ignoring him.

“Knock it off,” Steve scolded, smacking Bucky upside the head. Yelena and Natasha laughed as Bucky’s expression collapsed into a frown while you pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and Nat asked Steve where Sam was as you all shuffled forward with the line. Distractedly, you listened as Steve explained Sam had had to help his sister with something. There were only a handful of groups left between your friends and the door; panic crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe. All of a sudden you realized that not only were you about to subject yourself to being terrified by strangers, but Bucky would be there to witness just how easily scared you were. Dread churned with the anxiety in your stomach, creating a nauseating mix.

Turning to your best friend, you tried to keep your voice low as you spoke so no one overheard. “Lena, please,” you begged, using the nickname you’d given her when you were kids so she’d know how serious you were. “Can’t I skip the haunted house?”

Yelena’s face fell. “You promised we’d do this together,” she said, shooting a furtive look over her shoulder at Nat, Steve and Bucky, who were laughing about something. “You know I hate being alone with my sister and her friends—it makes me feel left out.”

“So come with me to get some apple cider instead,” you urged in a vehement whisper, linking your arm with hers so it might look less suspicious that you and Yelena had your heads bent so close together. Not that Nat wasn’t used to you and Yelena whispering together, you were best friends after all.

Shaking her head, Yelena glanced over her shoulder again. “You know Bucky won’t let either of us hear the end of it if we chicken out now,” she argued.

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you looked at your best friend. You knew Yelena didn’t care about Bucky’s teasing as much as you did, but you weren’t sure why she was so adamant about you going through the haunted house. 

Natasha’s laugh rang loudly behind you, making Yelena look back at her sister with love clear in her green eyes and you suddenly realized what was going on. Yelena’s hero worship for her older sister was nothing new to you, and you guessed she was more worried about Nat’s teasing than Bucky’s. You’d long dedicated yourself to helping Yelena live up to the pressure she put on herself to be cool enough for Nat. So if that meant putting up with a little haunted house anxiety and being scared, then it was the price you’d pay for your best friend.

With a dramatic sigh, you squeezed Yelena’s arm tighter in yours so you were inseparable. “Fine,” you relented, giving your best friend a weak smile. “But you’re buying me hot apple cider after this.” Yelena shot you a wide grin before she was distracted by Nat linking arms on her other side.

“You ladies ready to get scared?” Natasha asked in a raucous voice, like she was trying to drum up excitement. Yelena whooped loudly while all you could muster was a half-hearted cheer as fear roiled in your stomach. Steve threw a casual arm around Natasha’s shoulders, ruffling Yelena’s blonde hair a little. She ducked away as much as she could without breaking away from her sister, shooting Steve an annoyed look. He didn’t see it though, too busy reading the rules and warnings for the haunted house that were posted next to the door.

“Don’t forget,” Steve said as your group stepped up, ready to be the next ones let into the barn. “If you get too scared, there are emergency exits along the way.” He shot you a look over your friends’ heads and your face heated, shame climbing up your throat. Your shoulders tensed as you looked away from his kind blue eyes, feeling humiliated that everyone knew how scared you were of a haunted house.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky started, the mocking way he said the pet name making it clear he was talking to you.

Before you could stop yourself and ignore whatever he was going to say, you looked back over your shoulder. His eyes were bright and intent on you—probably excited to see what reaction he’d get out of you, you figured. You were determined to give him nothing.

“Just look for the bright red exit signs,” he said in a fake nice voice. “If you need help, let me know and I’ll point you in the right direction—that is, of course, if you even make it to the first emergency exit.”

Fighting the instinct to show how much his words hurt you, you turned back forward. You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from showing any kind of reaction, even with Bucky unable to see your face. Still, Yelena saw something in your expression.

“Shut up, Bucky,” your best friend snapped, glaring at the man over her shoulder.

Your best friend’s anger lit a fire in your heart and you raised your chin in defiance. You would make it all the way through the haunted house, if only to spite Bucky Barnes and prove to both him and yourself that you could do it. With your newfound courage, you threw a glare at Bucky over your shoulder, but the way he was looking at you took you by surprise.

Bucky’s blue eyes were dark with interest as he took in the determined expression on your face. As you watched, the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. The look on his face had something hot and needy sinking deep into your core, but before you could analyze what it was—and rationalize away the way Bucky looked at you in that moment—the worker at the door ushered your group forward.

The man, dressed like a farm worker covered in blood, pulled the door open and Steve stepped in first. Squaring your shoulders, you put on your best brave face as you followed your friends—but you held onto Yelena’s arm so tight you wondered if she’d lose circulation in her hand. Fear clawed in your stomach, making your heart beat wildly in your chest, as you stepped over the threshold.

Once Bucky followed you through the door, the worker shut it and you were plunged into darkness. Even with the sun shining brightly just outside the door, the dark antechamber was completely pitch black. You bit your lip against a startled scream, surprised at the loss of light. You felt a hand at your lower back and stiffened before realizing it was Bucky. Based on the warmth radiating just behind your shoulder, you could tell he stood close and, despite how much of an asshole he could be, having him close helped to ease some of the fear and anxiety making your heart batter against your ribcage. 

Ahead of you, Steve must’ve found the door to proceed through the haunted house because it cracked open, letting weak yellow light spill into the antechamber. A moment later, you were tugged along by Yelena and Bucky’s hand fell from your back. Immediately, you missed his solidness and warmth.

The Barton Family Farm’s haunted house had a themed story, something about serial killer farm workers who murder people for trespassing in their fields by luring them into the barn. The story seemed to be an excuse to decorate various areas of the barn as torture chambers, with severed limbs and fake blood decorating every surface. You kept your face mostly buried in Yelena’s shoulder, with only one eye peaking out as people dressed like deranged farm hands jumped out at you and your friends.

When you passed by the first emergency exit sign, the red neon making a blood-drenched scene of a man hacking up a body to feed to his pigs all the eerier, pride eclipsed the anxiety for a moment. But then you moved into the next portion of the haunted house and the fear returned in full force.

You and your friends were forced through a narrow corridor, the wooden walls pushing in on either side and making you feel claustrophobic. To make matters worse, hands reached through holes in the wall, grabbing at you and your friends’ clothes. Your heart pounded in your throat, as you felt cornered, like a mouse caught in a trap just waiting to die. Anxiously, you pushed against Yelena, trying to force your friends to go faster, but in your moment of distraction, a hand grabbed at your skirt, making you scream and push harder. In the back of your head, you knew you were being a little silly. It was a haunted house, but the danger and the fear felt real.

At the end of the tight corridor, you and your friends stumbled into a large room made to look like a normal barn, with stalls along the side. Nothing appeared immediately wrong with it, which made your anxiety spike harder. You backed up, bumping into Bucky. His chest felt solid behind you and for just a moment you reveled in it. Then Steve began leading you and your friends through the room and Yelena tugged you away from Bucky. Fear was making your heart beat wildly, your breath coming in short, desperate pulls as you prepared for another jump scare.

When your group reached the center of the room, five deranged farm hands appeared out of the woodwork, all carrying threatening looking farm instruments as they rushed you and your friends with loud battle cries. You, Yelena and Nat all screamed, and even Steve let out a startled shout, jumping apart when the men ran toward you, breaking up your linked arms like an awful game of red rover.

Your panic took over and you ran to the side, realizing too late you’d maneuvered yourself into one of the fake stalls. Actually cornered, your heart beat against your ribs like it was trying to escape. You turned to run, and were met by three of the men blocking the entrance of the stall. A panicked shriek fell from your mouth when they stepped toward you in unison, backing you up against the wall. Tears sprang to your eyes and started leaking down your cheeks as panic clawed at your throat, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were short, sharp gasps for air, but you felt like you couldn’t get any into your lungs. Your gaze went fuzzy through your tears.

“Hey assholes!” a voice shouted over the taunting and the jeering of the men. Blinking away your tears, you saw Bucky barreling through the line of farm hands, shoving one into another to make room for him to get to you. “Can’t you see she’s had enough?” Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders and your arms immediately went around his waist, clinging to him as you wobbled on unsteady legs. Bucky started to lead you out of the stall, but the men tried to block your path. “Get out of my fucking way,” Bucky spat, shooting them a glare so scary they shrank back. 

Bucky pulled you tighter against his body as he led you through the room. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, your breathing still short and panicked. You buried your face in Bucky’s chest, sobbing against his shirt as your whole body shook. You weren’t sure how you even stayed on your feet, but you couldn’t think past the fear and panic and certainty you were going to die.

After a few minutes, Bucky tugged you through a door and you felt cool, fresh air swirl around your shaky legs. The autumn breeze blew through your sweater and made you shiver harder. Your feet stumbled over grass as Bucky pulled you along, but you couldn’t think about where he was leading you. The only thing that registered was your fingers ached and only then did you realize you’d been gripping the lapels of Bucky’s jacket so hard the zipper dug into your palms, leaving marks.

Slowly, you became aware of chatter around you, the sounds of car doors opening and shutting, people talking and laughing. Still, your shoulders shook uncontrollably as anxiety pulsed through your veins and you clung harder to Bucky. He smelled safe, like woodsmoke and something earthy like vetiver. The sounds of the farm and haunted house grew more distant as Bucky kept walking.

Finally, you came to a stop and the sound of a truck door opening next to you pulled your attention away from the way your heart raced in your chest. Opening your eyes for the first time since the haunted house, you glanced around and found Bucky had brought you to his old red pickup truck. He’d parked in a corner of the lot that bordered a couple cornfields. There weren’t any people around, the other cars’ owners back at the farm having fun.

“Up you go, doll,” Bucky murmured, boosting you up onto the driver’s seat, facing him as he stood next to the truck cab. His brow was creased with concern as he frowned at you. It wasn’t until Bucky shrugged out of his leather jacket and settled it around your shoulders that you realized you were still trembling. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or your anxiety, but you pulled it tighter, relishing the warmth and his smell.

It wasn’t enough, though. Before you could think better of it, you fisted Bucky’s shirt in your hands and pulled him closer, shifting to the edge of the seat and spreading your legs so you could wrap yourself around him. You clung to him tightly as you cried quietly into his shirt.

Bucky tucked your head under his chin and looped his arms around you under his jacket, one hand running up and down your back soothingly. “You’re OK,” he murmured in a low voice that sent warmth curling through your limbs, chasing away the anxiety and adrenaline. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, the panic and fear started to drain out of you. Unfortunately, it was replaced by embarrassment as the full extent of the situation hit you like a brick. You hated that Bucky had seen you at your worst—scared to the point of having a panic attack. All over a stupid haunted house.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of humiliation as it washed over you. There was no way Bucky was ever going to let you live this down. And to make it worse, you were still clinging to him like a scared little baby, just like he accused you of being. That reminder was enough to make you desperate to rebuild the walls you’d erected to keep Bucky from seeing you as weak—or worse, as someone who wanted him and his comfort.

As covertly as you could, you wiped at your eyes with your fingers, trying to clear away the mess of makeup your tears had created. Once you’d fixed your face as much as you thought possible, you pulled back from Bucky, a mask of indifference on your face, though it was wobbly at best. Pulling his jacket from your shoulders, you shoved it against his chest, pushing him away so you could put some distance between your bodies.

“Well you must be thrilled,” you said in a prim, sarcastic tone. You kept your gaze fixed on his chin, unable to meet his eyes. He took the jacket from you and tossed it over the back of the truck’s bench seat.

“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused, though you couldn’t be sure without looking at him fully, which you refused to do. So you just jutted your chin out defensively, staring at the scruff on his jaw.

“I proved you right, Barnes,” you explained meanly. “I’m a little baby who got so scared in the haunted house I had to be escorted out through an emergency exit.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked away through the windshield of the truck, blinking rapidly to keep your tears at bay. The sun had dropped lower in the sky, painting the cornfield in a golden hue.

“You think that’s what I really think about you?” Bucky demanded in an angry tone, but there was something else in your voice, something you couldn’t name. “Seriously?”

Your frustration grew to a boiling point, enough to give you the courage to finally look at him. His blue eyes were blazing with irritation and, if you weren’t mistaken, hurt. But you pushed that aside because there was no way Bucky could be hurt by your words, you were simply telling the truth. “You literally called me a baby!” you pointed out. “It was the first thing you said to me when you got here!”

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard his head tipped back in annoyance. “You really are going to be the death of me, I swear to fucking god,” he bit out around clenched teeth, his voice harsh.

You let out an indignant screech. “What did I do?” you shot back, meeting his ice blue eyes with your best glare. “Literally what did I ever do to you to make you treat me the way you do?”

Letting out a frustrated growl, Bucky shoved his hands into his short brown hair, tugging on the strands as he stepped back from the truck and turned away from you like he could barely stand to look at you. He only gave you a momentary reprieve, though, before he whirled back and jabbed an accusing finger in your direction. “You ignore me!” he accused in a restrained shout, clearly trying to keep his voice down despite his annoyance. “You won’t even look at me unless I’m being mean to you.”

“Are you kidding me!?” you shrieked indignantly, not even bothering to have the same restraint as Bucky. You didn’t care if you drew a crowd, not that it was likely with how far away his truck was parked from the main farm grounds. “You ignored me the first night I met you,” you seethed. “I asked you how you met Nat and you literally grunted and walked away from me!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you pressed your lips closed to stop yourself from saying more. It already felt like you’d said too much, which was confirmed by the slack look on Bucky’s face. Horror washed over you as you realized you’d probably just basically told Bucky about your crush. You remembered the night you met, you remembered the exact conversation you’d tried to have with him. He’d have to know how you felt about him after giving away that detail.

In an effort to save face, you let yourself blurt out the first thing you could think to say. “So maybe I ignored you after that, but you deserved it!”

Bucky’s eyes blazed to life as he stepped up to the truck, crowding into your space, his hands resting on the top of the cab as he leaned into you. You wanted to shy away, afraid of your body’s reaction to him being so close—already, you felt a warm thrum in your core and your legs twitched like they wanted to spread for him—but you refused and instead held your ground.

“Fucking hell, that’s what this is about? I wasn’t ignoring you, doll,” Bucky said in a low, harsh voice. His blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, his stare so captivating you couldn’t look away. “I was fucking tongue-tied because I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever met.”

The admission hung heavy in the air between you and Bucky, the tension between you two crackling with energy. Your heart squeezed excitedly in your chest, happy to accept him at his word, but your brain was slower to trust. “What?” you asked in a tight voice as you tried to breathe through your shock and stop yourself from getting too excited.

“You are so fucking pretty you make my head spin,” Bucky said, his hand sliding against your jaw and cupping your chin delicately in his palm. “And if I have to be an asshole to get you to look at me, then I’ll be a fucking asshole,” he explained. His thumb grazed softly over your cheek, his blue eyes reading your expression like you were a language he wished to learn.

It was too much. You and Bucky had known each other for years, you’d been ignoring him at group outings and parties for years, he’d been sniping at you and provoking a reaction out of your for years. You simply couldn’t wrap your mind around the possibility he had feelings for you.

So you settled on a different explanation, one that seemed much more plausible. Righteous anger burned through the delicate hope in your heart, but it felt safer, more comfortable than the scary prospect of having to admit you liked Bucky.

Placing both hands on his chest, you shoved Bucky back and away from you. “Are you seriously messing with me right now?” you demanded accusatorially, already having decided he was. “You’re really such a fucking asshole, Barnes, to stoop this low.”

For a moment, Bucky looked too stunned to speak. He stared at you with a blank look for so long, doubt started to creep in, souring your stomach. But then a fire lit in Bucky’s blue eyes, burning through his icy gaze and threatening to take you down with him in the blaze. Before you could realize what he was doing, he closed the distance you’d created, his hands wrapping around the sides of your face, holding you still as his lips descended on yours.

Bucky brushed a soft kiss against your lips, just ghosting against your mouth before nipping your lower lip in a teasing bite. The sting made you gasp and he took advantage of your parted lips to seal his mouth over yours, swallowing down your moan at the feel of his rough stubble and gentle lips. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like he was determined to devour you and was simply starting with your mouth.

Bucky’s kiss was heady and all-consuming, your brain blissfully free of doubt and questions and confusion. All you could feel were Bucky’s soft lips and expert tongue. Everything else fell away as you sank deeper into the kiss, letting yourself melt in his hands. Bucky kissed you like he was tempting you to surrender your soul to him and with the press of his lips, and the slide of his tongue, you were more than willing to risk it all.

When Bucky pulled away, it took you a moment to recover, your eyes blinking open dazedly, eyelashes fluttering. You found Bucky hovering close like he couldn’t bear to be too far away from you. His own blue gaze was hooded and a soft happy smile was on his full lips. Slowly, Bucky started to straighten as if wanting to give you space, but you fisted your hands in his shirt collar and tugged him back down, kissing him with the same fervor he’d shown you.

Bucky made a surprised sound that was muffled against your lips, but then he was sinking back into your kiss, his mouth letting you take control. You slid your hands up and into his soft brown hair, arms wrapping around his neck as you held him close, unable to stop yourself from trying to devour him as much as he had you.

As distracted as you were by the kiss, you felt Bucky’s hands smooth over your back through your sweater until he reached your ass. His big hands dug into the leather truck seat to grab you firmly and drag you to the edge. Your legs spread for him, wrapping around his waist as you pressed yourself flush against his broad body. Your core met a hard bulge in Bucky’s jeans, drawing a hiccuping gasp from you that made him grin against your lips.

“Believe me now, baby?” Bucky rasped and you didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking, the mocking lilt of his voice gave away. But though you’d heard Bucky use a mocking tone plenty of times before, there was a warmth in it now, almost a purr. “D’you believe that I’ve wanted you for years?” He rolled his hips against you, pulling a moan from deep inside you at the feel of his jeans-covered length rubbing against your slit through your panties. “D’you feel how fucking hard you make me?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharp growl that shot straight to your clit, making heat surge through your body and flood your core.

“I believe you, Bucky,” you said, but deep in your mind you knew it wasn’t the truth—or, at least, the full truth. It’d take longer to really, fully believe him, but you wanted to and that was the first step. So you pushed your doubts and insecurities aside for the moment as he rocked his hips again, making you squirm on the edge of the truck seat, trying to rub against him like a cat in heat. Even through your clothes, he was so hot and hard against your damp, swollen center. It made you dizzy, how much you needed him.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised in a gruff voice, kissing your temple. His hands clutched your ass tighter, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he positioned you just right so he could dig his bulge deeper into your panty-covered slit, pushing between your folds to grind against your clit.

The praise from Bucky’s lips felt so good it made tears prick in your eyes. You never thought you’d hear him say anything so sweet to you, and you loved it so much you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from begging him to say it again. But that was too pathetic, even for you, so instead you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck and tipped your head back, moaning into the truck cab, the sound reverberating through the metal and leather. You humped against Bucky, matching his rhythm, the stimulation making you soak through your panties.

Bucky dug his hands out from under your ass, skating them up your sides and under your sweater, pushing it up until your tits were bared to the chilly autumn air. Your nipples instantly pebbled and Bucky groaned at the sight of them poking through your bra. He bent down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth through the thin lace. When he bit down gently on the sensitive nub, you cried out and rocked harder against his cock. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against your chest, his lips grazing along your skin as he moved to the other nipple. “Grind your sweet little pussy on daddy’s bulge,” Bucky encouraged you in a voice as rough as the gravel under his boots.

Your inner walls clenched at what Bucky called himself and you rolled your head up to look at him through slitted eyes. He caught your gaze as he sucked your tit, letting it pop from his lips so he could grin shamelessly up at you. His blue eyes raked over your face, taking in your reaction to what he’d called himself.

You’d never called anyone you’d hooked up with daddy, but for some reason it felt right with Bucky. You wanted to test it out, see how it’d feel on your lips. Something told you it’d feel dirty in a delicious way. But you bit your lip, still shy around Bucky, still uncertain.

He seemed to read your thoughts on your face, biting your nipple gently and laving it one last time before he dragged his head up to press his forehead against yours, letting your sweater drop back down. He kissed you, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips thrusting against your center. When he pulled back, he was breathing just as heavily as you. “Gotta get you nice and wet so you can take daddy’s cock, right baby?” he asked, his heated blue eyes meeting yours and holding you captive.

More wetness flooded your pussy at his dirty words, and at the way he made you feel safe in his arms. He’d saved you from the haunted house, he’d pined for you just as long as you had. He was proving you could count on him, making up for all those years of being an asshole, you just had to decide to trust him. It didn’t seem like it should be so easy, but you wanted to trust him. So you did.

“Yes, daddy,” you answered in a sweet, breathy voice. You’d been right, it did feel deliciously dirty to call Bucky daddy. The way your tongue and lips formed the word alone felt naughty, sending more heat curling through your already swollen and tingling pussy.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groaned when you called him daddy, scrunching his eyes shut as his hips stilled. His bulge was pressed so tightly against your core, you swore you could feel him throb in his jeans. “You’re so fucking hot, you’re gonna make me come in my pants,” he accused, opening his eyes only wide enough to furrow his brow in a half-hearted glare.

You couldn’t help yourself, Bucky just looked so silly, trying and failing to glare at you while he tried not to come—you giggled. The sound was pure and sweet as it tumbled from your lips. A wide, happy grin spread across your face to match the delighted sound.

Bucky’s jaw went slack and his blue eyes rounded as he witnessed you at the happiest he’d ever seen you and, for the first time, it was because of him, not in spite of him. Before your giggle had died completely, Bucky was smothering you with kisses. He peppered them across your lips and your cheek and your nose and your eyelids—any bit of your face he could reach while you tried to bat him away. His treatment only made you giggle more and try to squirm away, but he banded his arms and held you to him.

“Bucky, stop!” you squealed, leaning back to try to escape. He pulled back, breathless as his eyes raked over your face, relaxing when he saw you were just out of breath from giggling. When you opened your eyes, you caught Bucky staring down at you, affection written plainly across his face, etched into the lines of his eyes and the curves of his mouth.

As you both simply sat there, staring at each other, you watched as doubt creeped into Bucky’s expression. “You want this, right?” he asked in a tender, rumbly voice, staring you directly in the eye as he watched for any sign of hesitation.

A soft smile curled the corners of your mouth. “Bucky,” you started, pausing to gather your courage. With tentative fingers, you brushed his brown hair back from his forehead, eyes focusing on your hand so you wouldn’t have to look at him while you confessed. “I’ve had a crush on you since that first night, I was just too scared to tell anyone—especially you.”

Bucky winced a little when he heard the truth. He knew he’d been an asshole to you for too long to deserve anything less, but he recovered quickly. He ducked down, kissing your sweetly, an apology on his lips. When he pulled away, he voiced the words he should’ve said a long time ago. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and ignoring you that first night,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your lips when you tried to interrupt him. “And I’m so fucking sorry for being an asshole every day since then.” He sighed against your lips, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to get the chance to kiss you, which is why he did it again. “I swear on my fucking life, baby, I’ll never make you feel like anything less than the prettiest girl in the world ever again,” he promised against your lips, sealing it with another kiss.

You kissed him back, matching the vehemence in his words and his lips. When you finally pulled apart, you giggled softly. “Just please, no more haunted houses,” you begged jokingly. You smiled into his skin, dragging your mouth along the scruff of his jaw, feeling it rasp against your swollen lips. You felt the side of Bucky’s mouth curl into a smile, enticing you back to his lips.

“No more haunted houses,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your lips. Bucky’s hands digging under your thighs was your only warning before he used his grip to haul you further into the truck cab, your ass sliding across the bench seat. “But I am going to fuck you in the parking lot of this haunted house,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face as he climbed up into the truck after you. He pulled the door shut behind him to keep out the autumn chill and the distant sounds of the crowded farm.

“Bucky!” you shrieked as he covered your body with his, pressing you into the worn leather seat of his truck. His smell surrounded you, not just because he pressed close to you but because it was embedded in ever fiber of the truck. It felt like you were being cocooned in Bucky and you didn’t want to leave, but you still felt obligated to protest. “Our friends will be looking for us,” you pointed out, but you sounded half-hearted even to your own ears, especially as you parted your thighs for Bucky to slip between.

He ducked his head, kissing up your neck as his hips settled into the cradle of your thighs. Of their own volition, your knees climbed his sides, shifting until the hard bulge in his jeans pressed directly to your aching core. He chuckled when you let out a breathy moan despite your protest.

“Baby, I’ve wanted you for years,” he murmured in between kisses, tilting your head to the side so he could suck on the skin beneath your ear, drawing another moan from your lips. “Fuck our friends, I can’t wait—I need to be inside you, baby, please,” he mumbled, dragging his lips across your throat so you could feel his need spoken into your skin. It sunk down deep inside you, to your bones, your marrow, convincing you of his desire with every breath.

In response, you rocked your hips up, grinding your heat against his bulge. A broken groan stuttered from Bucky’s lips, making you smile. Your need for him was equally insatiable and you gave up any pretense of protesting when he begged you. “I’m all yours, Bucky, take me,” you whispered, dragging his face to yours and slanting your lips against his in a heated kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please, I need you,” you begged in a desperate voice.

Bucky groaned low in his throat at the sound of you begging. “Such a desperate little slut for daddy, huh baby?” he asked in a sweetly patronizing tone, so much like the way he used to speak to you but so, so different. And when you looked up at him, his face was filled with affection.

Skimming his hand up your thigh, Bucky reached under your skirt, pushing it up so it bunched around your waist. His fingers hooked in your panties, and he pulled them down as you lifted up. He sat up enough to maneuver you in the small space to free one ankle, letting your panties dangle from the other as he undid his jeans and pulled his dick out.

Your eyes were glued to the thick cock Bucky pumped in his hand. He was girthy, with veins decorating the side and leading up to his broad mushroom tip. Drool pooled in your mouth at the sight of him, straining for you, precum dripping from the head. Your pussy clenched hard, greedy for Bucky’s cock as you reached for him.

Bucky grinned at the hungry look on your face, pushing you gently back down on the bench seat and pushing your sweater up so he could see your tits. He groped at your soft flesh, tugging on your nipples until your eyes were fluttering closed and moans were falling out of your mouth. Bucky bent over your body, planting a hand on the door above your head so he could hover over you. “Condom?” he asked.

You caught his blue gaze and held it as you shook your head. “No,” you answered firmly. “Want you bare.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky froze for a moment, going so still you could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. “You’re on birth control? You’ve been tested?” he asked in a tight voice like he was forcing the questions out.

You giggled softly, the sound more seductive than cute and you wondered for a brief second where it came from. But then you took stock of Bucky poised above you, his cock so hard in his hand it had turned an angry red color as it leaked from the tip while his eyes and lips were pinched tightly closed. You gave it a long moment before you put him out of his misery—call it a little bit of payback. “I have an IUD, I’ve been tested since my last partner, I’m all good.”

Bucky’s eyes were still pressed shut, but he let out a long breath. “I’ve been tested too—I’m good,” he forced out. When his eyes finally opened, his blue eyes blazed, the intensity of his gaze burning into you, threatening to consume you alive—and you’d happily let it. “Gonna take my cock raw, baby?” His voice was a rasp like the metal grate containing a fire. With his grip on his cock, he slapped the thick head on your clit before rubbing his length between your folds, coating himself with your desire.

You let out a gasp at the feeling of him torturing your pussy. “Yes, daddy,” you answered breathlessly.

“Good thing you’re on birth control, because I’m not fucking pulling out,” he bit out in a harsh tone that sent shivers skating down to your core. His gaze flicked to yours, checking in, and you nodded to let him know you were good with what he was saying and doing. A grin spread across his face as he returned his attention to his cock teasing your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up your tight little cunt with my come,” he promised, nudging your hole with the wide tip of his dick.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, reaching your limit with his teasing. Your hips raised in the air to try to take him into your pussy, but Bucky backed off, sitting back on his haunches. When you reached for him, he moved his hand from the door and threaded his fingers through yours. Placing a kiss to each of your fingers, he stared down at you like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you spread out beneath him.

“I love it when you beg, baby,” he said finally. “Makes me wanna give you the world.” An impish grin pulled up the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “But you’ll have to settle for my cock—for now,” he teased, leaning down over you again, pressing your clasped hands against the seat next to your head. With his other hand, he lined his cock up at your entrance and he breathed hard as he teased you just a little bit more. “So wet for me, baby, such a good girl for daddy,” he murmured praises just before he pushed inside.

Bucky let out a long, deep groan as his cock sunk deep into your pussy, feeling your wet heat clutch at his hardness. The stretch of his thick girth stole the breath from your lungs as he slid in to the hilt in one steady thrust. He paused there, giving you both time to adjust. “Fuck,” he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock.”

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. “More, daddy, please—need you, need more,” you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn’t know where you ended and he began. You didn’t know how you could ever get enough of this man. In such a short time, he’d made you feel safe and loved and you felt like you were cracking apart, opening yourself up to him. His sweet words and gentle touches had awoken a ravenous hunger in your heart and you wanted him closer, you wanted to consume him and be consumed in return.

Giving you what you asked for, Bucky pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. “So good, so good, baby, so fucking good for daddy,” he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for you. Your face pressed into Bucky’s neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. “Daddy—daddy, need you, more, please,” you begged, knowing you weren’t making any sense. Your legs locked around his waist, booted feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn’t pull out more than an inch.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Is this what you needed, sweet girl?” he asked, his free hand wrapping around the back of your neck and wrenching you away from where you were sucking hickies into his throat so he could look in your eyes. “Need to be pinned down with daddy’s cock buried balls-deep in your cunt?” He settled his weight almost entirely on top of you, watching as your eyes went hooded with delight, a dazed smile curling your lips. “D’you need daddy to mark you up, baby?” he asked, ducking down and nudging the collar of your sweater to the side so he could suck your skin between his teeth until you were both sure he’d leave a mark. “D’you need daddy to take you, hard and rough and filthy?” he demanded a moment before he sank his teeth into a spot toward the back of your neck right on the edge of your hairline.

A sharp cry fell from your lips as Bucky bit you, but it dissolved into a moan when he pulled back and licked the spot. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Bucky. Your head felt hazy, like you were buzzed, but all you were drunk on was Bucky’s cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

“Fuck, jesus fuck, that’s it, take it baby, take it,” he groaned into your ear, rolling his hips against yours in tight movements, grinding into your cunt and clit until you were a panting, needy mess beneath him. “Love seeing you fucked out and cock drunk for me, baby,” he huffed as his chest heaved with his heavy breaths. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy, aren’t you baby?”

All you could do was whimper and nod, trying to keep your eyes open so you could look into Bucky’s blue gaze as he leaned up and looked down at you. He watched as pleasure contorted your face, delighting in the way your jaw dropped open when he hit a particular spot deep inside you.

“Good girl, good girl,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers over your sweaty forehead and dropping down to kiss your lips. He nuzzled his scruff against your cheek like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

You understood the feeling. Your fingers gripped Bucky’s hand still laced in yours, the other threading into his soft brown hair while your heels dug into his strong thighs, keeping him locked against your body. If you thought you could endure letting him go, even only for a moment, you would’ve begged him to rip your clothes off so you could feel his skin against yours. But you couldn’t even fathom untangling your bodies in that moment.

“My perfect girl, you feel so good,” Bucky murmured, trailing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply, thoroughly, possessively. “Need you to come for me, baby, need you to come on my cock,” he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. “Fuck, I can’t stop, baby, ‘m gonna come.” He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. “Come on daddy’s cock, baby, come for daddy,” Bucky rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge. “That’s it, that’s it, be my good girl, baby, please,” he begged.

The desperation in Bucky’s voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. You clutched his fingers in yours, nails digging into the back of his hand, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into the soft cotton covering Bucky’s shoulder, you muffled a scream into his shirt, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s it baby, that’s a good girl,” Bucky praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own. “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby, gonna make daddy come,” he mumbled, his free hand digging between your body and the leather seat to grip your ass.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he’d leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, daddy,” you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. “Fill me up with your come—need it, need you,” you whined, squirming beneath him.

“Fuck—fuck,” he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down to the seat with his hips. “Take it, baby, take my come,” he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. “Good girl,” he panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Bucky collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. “So good for daddy, baby,” he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Bucky’s hair, the short strands soft against your skin, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

After a few minutes of recovering, Bucky sat up and brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it while he stared down at you, love and affection burning bright in his blue eyes. “What’re the chances I can convince you to let me take you home now so we can do that again?” he asked, a playful smile curling his lips.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from immediately agreeing. You wanted to spend time with Bucky and get to know him in ways you’d only previously dreamed—not just with more sex, but being able to talk to him without the weight of both your anger and hurt hanging around your necks. But the last you saw your friends, you and Bucky were bailing on the haunted house, and you knew you should check in with them. Plus, you’d been looking forward to all the other autumnal fun Barton’s Family Farm offered and you’d be damned if you left after just the haunted house.

“But I want apple cider and donuts,” you said, pouting up at Bucky, widening your eyes to exaggerate your puppy dog look.

Bucky immediately caved, unable to resist giving you whatever you wanted, especially since it was easily within his power. “I’ll buy you all the apple cider and donuts you want, baby” he promised, ducking down to give you a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, though, he had a greedy look in his eye. “But then you’re coming home with me, yeah?”

A grin bloomed across your face. “Yeah,” you agreed easily and Bucky gave you an answering smile, like it was a natural reaction to seeing you happy.

As Bucky righted himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and zipping them back up, it occurred to you that you’d never seen him so relaxed, and you didn’t think it had to do with the sex you’d just had. When he looked up, he caught you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, a little uncertainly. His fingers reached up to smooth over the burgeoning marks on his neck. “Are the hickies too noticeable.”

Shaking your head, you sat up and looped your arms around his neck. “No—well, yes, but that’s not what I was looking at,” you said. At his raised eyebrow, you went on. “You’re so handsome,” you said in a fake dreamy voice, a little bit of teasing in your words. Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t try to pull away, just smiled down at you fondly, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek. He waited you out long enough that what you really wanted to say finally rolled off your tongue. “You’re happy, right?” Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion but before he could answer, you continued. “Because I’m happy—this might be the happiest I’ve been in a long time and if you’re going to take me back to our friends and pretend like nothing happened, I need to know now.

A troubled expression was on Bucky’s face by the time you stopped talking. “Hey, no,” he said, when you finished. “I’m happy—I told you I’ve wanted this for years,” he reminded you, ducking his head down so he could look at you face to face. “I’m not gonna be that asshole again to you, ever,” he promised, his eyes searching yours like he could root out all the insecurity and squash it. “If I need to spend the next couple months or years proving that to you, I will, OK?”

Stupid tears welled up in your eyes but you blinked them back and gave Bucky a watery smile, your heart feeling like it could burst you were so happy. Bucky leaned in and kissed the apples of your cheeks, first one then the other, before dipping down to kiss your lips. By the time he was done, your eyes were dry. “Ready to get back out there?” he asked and you nodded.

With gentle hands, Bucky used some napkins from the glovebox to clean you up as well as he could, then helped you fix your clothes. He took you by the hand and led you out of the truck. When you hopped out, you shivered in the autumnal chill, immediately wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the cold. Bucky noticed and reached back into his truck to grab his leather jacket, helping you into it before kissing you once more. You smiled against his lips, grabbed his hand and tugged him back toward the farm.

It didn’t take long to find your friends—they were standing near the hot apple cider stand, holding paper cups of the steaming beverage and sharing from a cardboard dish of cider donuts. Yelena was the first to notice you and Bucky walking toward the group, your hands linked and you wearing his jacket. She turned to her older sister, pointing a finger in Natasha’s face as she screeched, “I told you! I told you it would work!” Cinnamon sugar spewed from the blonde’s mouth as she yelled and she didn’t even bother to wipe it off her chin before turning to Steve, who had his hand up for a high five, slapping her palm against his.

The corners of your mouth pulled down into a confused frown. “What’re you talking about Lena?”

But Yelena was too busy executing an elaborate victory dance to respond, so Steve chimed in with an explanation. “Yelena has been determined to make you guys admit you have feelings for each other—”

“That you love each other,” Yelena butted in, finally done with her dance. She passed one of the paper cups she’d been holding over to you and you wrapped both your hands around it, basking in the warmth while Bucky slid behind you, looping his arms loosely around your waist. Yelena’s sharp green eyes watched it all.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered shaking his head at his friend’s little sister. “Anyway, she had a plan that we go through the haunted house and you’d get scared and Bucky would swoop in and protect you,” Steve finished. “Nat didn’t think it would work,” he added almost as an afterthought.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” the redhead said, shrugging unapologetically, but her eyes and smile were warm as she too didn’t miss the way Bucky touched you so easily. Your face heated, realizing both your friends had probably already surmised you’d slept with Bucky.

“So let me get this straight,” Bucky started slowly, his eyes fixed on his best friend, completely unaware of the knowing looks Yelena and Natasha were giving the two of you. “You deliberately tortured my girl just to prove a point?”

Yelena squealed and looked at you with wide, excited eyes when Bucky called you his girl, almost drowning out the rest of his sentence. You couldn’t help the goofy grin plastered to your face in response, nor did you want to. Yelena raised her eyebrows in silent demand for more information, and you even caught Nat giving you the same look. You shot them both a look that said you’d tell them later.

The boys were completely oblivious of your exchange with your friends. “Well she wasn’t technically your girl yet—even if you’ve had a thing for her for a couple years,” Steve pointed out, his face twisting up like he was fighting to keep the guilt out of his expression.

You felt Bucky tense behind you and craned your neck to look up at him, taking a sip of your drink. He’d tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at Steve, anger simmering in his blue eyes. Even though he was facing off with his own friend, his gaze held more ire than you’d ever seen directed at you. If you thought about it, Bucky had usually had a kind of pained look on his face when he’d said those mean things to you. Sadness swept over you at the thought of all the time you’d wasted being jerks to each other. Unable to hold yourself back, you snuggled into him.

Your movement caught Bucky’s attention and he finally looked away from Steve, his face shifting before your eyes from a glare to an expression filled with affection. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned back to your friends with a much more relaxed look. Reaching out, he plucked a cider donut from the cardboard dish, holding it in front of you until you took it.

You took a big bite of the sweet pastry and groaned in happiness. Against your ass, you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and you had to hide your smile behind another bite of donut.

“Semantics,” Bucky said in response to Steve’s comment, a smile on his lips as he watched you eat your donut happily. “Anyway, thanks to you all, I made a promise to my girl and I plan to keep it.”

“What promise?” Yelena asked, curiosity lighting her green eyes as her gaze bounced back and forth between you and Bucky. Your best friend was practically gleeful, but you knew it wasn’t just because she had been right and her plan had worked, you could see in her face that she was happy for you. As you sipped the hot apple cider she’d bought you, you realized you’d already forgiven her for the deception.

“Well actually it was two promises,” Bucky amended. You looked up at him in confusion. “I promised her all the apple cider and no more haunted houses.” Bucky leaned down, your lips bumping clumsily against each other as you both struggled to stop smiling long enough to kiss. But then Bucky’s tongue licked some of the cinnamon sugar from your lips and you had to choke back a moan as he kissed you possessively right there in front of your friends.

“Get a room,” Natasha jeered at the same time Yelena whooped and Steve clapped obnoxiously. You laughed against Bucky’s lips, pulling apart, warmth burning in your cheeks.

That wasn’t the last time your friends teased you and Bucky that night, but you were both too happy to care too much. Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. Whether he was wrapping an arm around your shoulders, linking his fingers with yours, or squeezing your butt as discretely as possible, he was always touching you. He kept it up through all the fall activities—the corn maze, the pumpkin patch, and another round of apple cider and donuts.

And then at the end of the night, Bucky took you home and showed you again and again how happy you made him. Over the following days and months and years, he proved to that you could trust him to never be mean to get your attention again—and you showed him you’d never ignore him or your feelings for him. Bucky showered you with love and affection until the memories of you ignoring him and him being an asshole to get your attention were replaced entirely with happy ones.

He also kept his promises, taking you back to Barton’s Family Farm every year for all the apple cider and donuts you could eat—but always skipping the haunted house—kissing the sugar and cinnamon from your lips until you let him take you home.

Neighbors Masterlist

Main Masterlist

◍ smut/18+ fics ⌾ angst ◌ pure fluff

Neighbors

⌾ Banana Bread | Dinner For Two | ◌ Movie Night | Teach Me? | ◌ The Diner | ◌ Hairpins | Knead You | ◌ Golden Afternoon | Old Friend | ⌾ New Exhibit | Red Henley | ◍ New York | ⌾ March 10th | ◍ Panties In A Twist | A Couple Drinks | ◍ Backwards | to be continued…

Prologue: The Holiday season catches Bucky by surprise, but after a less-than-ideal morning, a friendly invitation from his new neighbor is more tempting than he would have anticipated.

Summary:

"He didn't know how it had happened, how he'd gotten so comfortable around you, how he'd let you in. At first, everything was quiet. Bucky was adjusting to this new life, his pardon, his therapist, his amends, and everything they'd gotten him into. Sure there was Yori, but that was like one old man to another, and far more complicated. You were different."

Your friendship with your neighbor across the hall, the James "Bucky" Barnes, blooms as you get to know each other. And as a new extremist group - the Flagsmashers - make their mark on the world, the two of you are left to figure out what that means for your blossoming relationship.

A domestic, sweet, and spicy romantic comedy based on the characters and events surrounding Marvel's series, The Falcon And The Winter Soldier.

Neighbors on Spotify:

Side A: songs they listen and/or dance to in the series Side B: songs that fit their vibe, describe their relationship, or otherwise remind me of them 50s Friday Night: a playlist inspired by chapter 9 (Old Friend)

Also Read on Ao3 and Wattpad

Lock & Key

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 3545

Warnings: smut alert! [spanking; slight f-dom/m-sub action; dirty talking; I drop the p-word; fingering; oral sex; unprotected penetrative sex] 18+ read at your own discretion. 

Wooo, boy! I got a request for some on-camera action with Josh. It was a tall order and, despite the slight variation on the request, I hope you all enjoy! 

—

“So just pretend it’s not even here,” Josh instructed as he adjusted the video camera–one of his own that he’d filmed other, PG movies with–on top of his dresser. He stepped back, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head, then stepped forward again and readjusted the positioning of the camera.

“How can I pretend it’s not here when that light is blinking right at us?” you replied from your spot on the edge of the bed, giving a dramatic wave of your hand at the camera, the lens seeming like a big, black eye starting at you. 

“May I remind you, my darling,” he said, turning to you and placing his hands on your shoulders. “This was your idea. But we don’t have to do it if you don’t want.”

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