I Always Love A Good “there Was Only 1 Bed Story Line” It’s Especially Good When It’s An Enemy’s

‘Romeo and Juliet of the math and english dept. in school’ AU or I’m a writer and when it gets close to my deadlines I neglect taking care of myself so you’ll pop in my house every so often to make sure I’m doing okay’ AU please !!

Please imagine Steve looking like he does in the second photo of this photoset, please.

– –

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name,” Mr. Rogers says, and about half the class sighs dreamily. He looks up from his book. “Can anyone tell me what ‘wherefore’ means in this context?” He looks at the array of hands that shoot up in the air. “Wanda?”

“It means ‘why’,” she says.

“Exactly. So she’s asking… anyone?”

“She’s asking why he has to be a Montague, versus any other family,” says a voice from the doorway.

Mr. Rogers looks up and smiles. “Right you are, Mr. Barnes. To what do we owe the honor?” He runs a hand through his thick hair and pushes his thick black glasses up on his nose, and a few members of the class shoot each other knowing looks.

“You forgot your dongle in my classroom last night,” Mr. Barnes says. There’s a chorus of ‘ooooohs’ from the students and Mr. Barnes shoots them a look as Mr. Rogers rolls his eyes. “It’s a computer part,” he says, holding it up for the class to observe.

“Nasty,” Tony Stark says from the back.

“Tony,” Mr. Rogers says, sharp.

“Oooh, you’re in the shit,” Clint whispers to Tony, who just rolls his eyes.

Mr. Rogers walks across the room to Mr. Barnes and takes the dongle with a smile. “Thanks for bringing it back,” he says.

“Not a problem,” Mr. Barnes responds, then gives Mr. Rogers a friendly nudge on the arm. “But maybe keep better track of your stuff, okay? You’re always leaving things in my classroom after practice.”

Mr. Rogers bites his lip and nods. “Sorry about that.”

“Nah, nothing you gotta apologize for. But I should quit interrupting your class and get going.”

“Okay. See you later,” Mr. Rogers says, and watches Mr. Barnes back out of the room and shut the door with such a look of pure, simple longing that it’s almost embarrassing to look.

“Oh. My. God.” Clint says to Tony. “He’s into him?”

“Duh,” Tony says as he picks at the edge of his worksheet. “You should see them during Scholastic Bowl practice. It’s gratuitous and disgusting.”

“Huh,” Clint says, looking up to Mr. Rogers, who is now blushing as he tries to move on with the lecture. “That’s funny.”

“Here,” Tony says, shoving the paper at Clint, “we wrote this after practice yesterday. The syllabic structure’s pretty mediocre but we had some fun.”

Clint reads:

Mr. Barnes & Mr. Rogers: A Nerdy Tragedy

Two departments, both alike in dignity

In fair high school, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where class budgets make tenured staff ill at-ease.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross’d lovers coach the team;

Whose misadventures piteous overthrows

Do with their love bury their departments’ strife.

The fearful passage of their nerd-mark’d love,

And the continuance of their departments’ rage,

Which, but their teacher’s love, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours’ traffic of our Scholastic Bowl meet;

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

“Passing notes?” Clint nearly jumps out of his seat and sees Mr. Rogers standing in front of him, eyebrow raised. Before Clint can come up with an answer, Mr. Rogers takes the paper from his hands and starts to read. Clint looks to Tony, who looks at Clint with wide eyes. They both look up at Mr. Rogers who is turning redder by the moment. Mr. Rogers looks up at them, then quickly back down to the paper, and back up at them. He clears his throat. “I’ll be throwing this out,” he says, shoving the paper into the pocket of his blazer and walking away.

“He’s gonna read that to Mr. Barnes tonight while they bang,” Tony whispers into Clint’s ear.

Clint bursts out laughing, and ends up with detention.

I never wanted it to end but this was sooooo good

6 • Operation: No More Operations | OPERATION: FAKING IT ...?

6 • Operation: No More Operations | OPERATION: FAKING IT …?

Description: Your suspension is spent collecting on your IOU's from Tony, a trip to Wakanda & Whale Watching then some happily ever after for a man who deserves the world.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger Reader

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Cute Bucky, Fluffy Bucky, Bucky with children, swearing, all the smut, p in v, unprotected, oral sex (M + F), public sex, Daddy kink, mentions of choking, unprotected sex.

A/N: I can only apologise how long this has taken to get finished, I have been super busy for the last few weeks! Sad to say goodbye to these two.

Series Masterlist

[Previous Chapter]

‘Burtie stop it, no! Leave little Stevie alone’

You had been in Wakanda for three days & your pup was obsessed with playing with Bucky’s adopted goats, he had been so nervous that they wouldn’t remember him, he spent the entire flight anxiously pacing the Quinjet until you decided to distract him by crouching between his legs & pulling out his cock, it didn’t take long for him to get hard & with a single kiss on the tip he was ready to go. ‘Fuck sweetheart, don’t stop’ he wound your hair around his metal fist & guided you back & forth on his length, you couldn’t help slipping your hand between your legs, moaning as your finger brushed past your swollen clit to plunge a digit into your wet hole, the sinful noise he made as your whimpers vibrated on his cock & his utterings of ‘Yes Bambi, touch your pussy.’ ‘Such a good girl, taking me so well’ ‘Do that thing I like, fuucck, you’re so good with your mouth.’ spurred you on to add another finger into your soaking cunt.

You hadn’t ever enjoyed giving head in previous relationships, but with Bucky it was possibly one of your favourite things to do, to see this big bulky Super Soldier crumble before you & inflict such levels of pleasure that it somehow felt like you were receiving it all made sense as to why he loved eating you out every chance he got. 

Climaxing whilst not biting Bucky’s cock was a skill you had mastered quickly, as always encouraged by the filth that tumbled out of his mouth ‘you gonna cum on your fingers, that pussy is begging for me to fill it, you’re going to be dripping with my cum meeting a king darlin, everyone will know you’re mine.’ You spasmed around your digits in utter bliss, your eyes rolling back as the roaring pleasure took over & once your glistening fingers were pushed between Bucky’s lips he was a gonner, tasting your sweet nectar pushed him over the edge shooting his cum into the back of your throat, holding you until he had completely emptied himself into your mouth, you held out your cum-free tongue to show him you had swallowed it all, it had become a habit & his praises of ‘that’s my good girl’ & ‘lick every last drop honey’ ramped up your need for his cock to be buried in you. 

There were many times you cursed the super soldier serum, mainly because of his super hearing & the fact he could hear you fall over & rush to help whatever ailment had resulted then try not to laugh at how you tripped, or the conversations you would have with Burtie early in the mornings about how much you loved him & his dad. But you loved that serum when, mere moments after he had climaxed, he watched as you licked your lips of any remaining evidence he had been in your mouth & he was ready for you again. Not even waiting a second for you to catch your breath before swiftly lifting you up onto his lap, pushing your knickers aside & impaling you on his rock hard length.

You wouldn’t ever get use to his size, each time, even soaking wet the stretch felt like nothing else, ‘dripping for me darlin’ you nodded your head completely fucked out as you took him all the way, ‘Wanna be buried in you every day, fuck your pussy is heaven’ you couldn’t even form words as he was thrusting his hips in rhythm with you bouncing on his cock, ‘my good fucking girl, all mine.’ He felt you pulse around him, gripping him perfectly, his vibranium hand moved to your throat, your eyes snapped to his, for a split second he thought he had gone too far but the grip your pussy had on his length told him otherwise, between brutal thrusts he panted, ‘tell me you’re mine Bambi.’ ‘look at you, fucked you dumb sweetheart’ ‘can’t even speak, tell me, be my good girl.’ As his fingers gripped your throat tighter the pressure building was like nothing else, you were hurtling to a brain numbing orgasm but managed to moan out some form of answer, ‘yo… yours D..addy. fuck gonna cum.’

‘Cum on my cock darlin’, fuck gripping me so tight. My good girl.’

That’s all you needed to explode into heaven as he fucked up into you at super soldier speed, immediately releasing your throat when he painted your walls with his seed holding you tightly against him riding you both through your releases. 

It was in these moments holding your spaced out being against his where he held back the most, the whispered declarations of love into your ear didn’t feel enough to really show you how much he loved you, he wanted to run to the nearest chapel with you over his shoulder & marry you on the spot, anything else was not enough.

Being greeted by T’Challa, The Queen & Shuri was a moment you wouldn’t forget, they were so gracious & generous in their hospitality & the respect they treat your Super Solider with, as promised you had been filled by Bucky & were battling your pelvic floor the entire time to make sure nothing escaped after he had insisting on putting your underwear in his pocket. 

Everyone was so welcoming to you both & Shuri was an immediate ally, you held back from the rest of the group to walk with her as you made your way into the palace & expressed how grateful you were that she had helped Bucky, she knew about all about Gerald & wanted to show you her lab during your visit. She of course told you all the embarrassing tales when Bucky had his new arm fitted & how she loved being the bane of his life since & how he always spoke about you on their calls since he left. Bucky later told you more about his sister Rebecca & how Shuri felt akin to the little sister he missed so much, although he could do without all the sass she handed his way. 

Okoye lead a Dora Milaje demonstration, they were so majestic in their movements & you were enamoured by their power & skill, Bucky didn’t even dispute the fact that they would be able to take him down, you made him swear not to tell them about how you got shot, if it was possible to hero-worship someone as a grown adult Okoye was definitely it for you & you didn’t want her thinking of you as an idiot who shot herself air guitaring with a gun. 

After your welcome you were taken to the place Bucky was itching to go the most, the place where he felt most at peace before meeting you; his hut with his goats. The reunion was exactly what you were hoping for, his face lit up with sheer joy as they ran towards him, yes you cried & Shuri had to upgrade the storage on your phone you took so many videos & photos.

It was a privilege to witness Bucky in Wakanda, you hadn’t ever seen him as relaxed & care free, he said it was down to the shield protecting the entire country so there was no possibility of a Hydra threat, but you knew it was because he was at home here. He was the White Wolf, no one thought of him as a monster, they saw him for who he really was, a man capable of an unmatched determination to fight his programming, a strength to overcome the injustices against him for the greater good & a selfless humble gentleman. 

With the sun on his face & breeze through his hair, no missions, no fighting, just a stillness that he hadn’t ever had time for in his hundred years of living with the love of his live by his side, he was at peace. Bucky insisted on taking you to the lake for the first sunrise together, you both cried, such a cliché but it felt like a sign of something new, a new beginning for you both as the sun broke through the dawn, illuminating the African plains as far as the horizon, the haze reflecting from the water made you believe in the mirage of the desert, you hadn’t ever seen anything as beautiful.

He found the tranquillity by the lakeside opened him up to you far more than he had before, he told you about his family, his Ma who would have loved you dearly, details he had remembered & the parts Steve had filled in, his life before the war, the happiness of his youth but he also recalled the heart wrenching parts of his existence that tore you in two when he spoke of the horrors of what he really went through, but you listened, held him & let him speak. He always felt scared of telling people about his captivity, even the tiny parts he did share, but trusting you with his painful life was effortless, you didn’t just listen to him, you really heard what he was telling you. He wanted you to know the magnitude behind his words that he would go through it all again to be right where he was & as each memory was vocalised it was like the weight he was carrying left his soul.

He made sure to spend the first few days introducing you to all the people who had helped him during his de-programming, everyone seemed overjoyed at the progress he had made since he left especially at how enamoured he appeared to be with you. The most time was spent with the children who had given Bucky reason to get up in the mornings, they had all grown & enthused about how they used to help with his hair before he got his new arm after you asked about his infamous manbun. 

--

Bucky had been in the city all day having his arm recalibrated, you were under strict instructions to not attend so that some actual work could be done & Shuri wasn’t spending the entire time talking to you, you decided on staying at the hut the Wakandan’s had kept vacant long after its previous occupant had returned to the outside world. 

Despite the country being more technically advanced than anywhere beyond its borders the hut was a rural relic & completely isolated from the high-rise city you had first laid your eyes on when you arrived in the country. The hut stood at the bottom of a sprawling valley sitting beside a tranquil lake with not a single soul for miles, apart from the miniature goats roaming the land, the three-room home was all you needed.

You had spent the morning tidying then tending to the goats whilst trying to keep Burtie from constantly diving in the river, if Bucky asked you to retire here & raise your family you would in an instant, the silence & serenity was like nothing you had ever experienced.

The hotter you got the more you thought Burtie was onto something with the river, the water was so calm & inviting, you were re-assured by several locals that there were no swamp monsters or things that could eat you hiding in the depths. Knowing there was no one for miles you shed your clothes & began walking along the pier peering down into the water, it was crystal clear & still, you almost felt bad disturbing the serene setting, but you arched your back & dove in.

The crisp water was heaven, Burtie wasn’t far behind, diving in trying to swim to you frantically like you needed his help, you reassured him with calming head strokes & nose kisses that you were ok & it was enough for him to paddle away only to run up the bank & do the same thing over again. He was the other love of your life for sure, the number one contender though had returned & was watching from afar smiling to himself every time Burtie swam straight to you for some love & praise. Bucky started stripping the layers of his clothing as he stealthily moved towards the lake, silently entering the water,  you were startled suddenly by a splash, you whipped your head around trying to see where it came from assuming Burtie was up to no good but he was basking in the sun on the pier, you noticed the ripples in the surface of the water quickly approaching where you were stood, this was the swamp monster you were afraid of. Your breathing picked up as your heartbeat increased, frozen you awaited your fate only to be hoisted up out of the water on a very familiar pair of shoulders.

You half screamed half laughed ‘Buckkkkyy, aaaaah put me down.’

He somehow lifted you up & spun you around still on his shoulders & with your thighs wrapped around his head burying himself in your damp mound, mumbling ‘Still want me to put you down Bambi?’

Your fingers found themselves gripping onto his hair to steady yourself as his tongue found your clit, ‘Fuck, don’t stop.’ His strong hands held you upright as he continued his relentless sucking & lapping of your pussy, you could feel the pressure building as you held on to your Super Solider for dear life, he knew your body better than any man you had ever been with so could get you to orgasm effortlessly with his mouth, he knew exactly what you loved. 

He could feel you tensing, probably reluctant to relax on his shoulders enough to let go properly, he shifted his mouth, ‘Cum for me Bambi, you won’t fall, I got you.’

He tightened his grip on your back before he went straight back to work clamping his lips around your clit & sucking with everything he had, your body relaxed & let the growing climax rush over you exploding as you ground down on the mouth attached to your pussy, of course you were held steadily throughout & when Bucky could feel you completely spent he lowered you down & wrapped your legs around him so he could keep you both afloat.

‘Hi’

‘Hi.’

He kissed you so firmly you thought you’d bruise, you swiped your tongue across his mouth cleaning up the mess you’d made of it, you didn’t waste any time reaching down to feel his bare cock standing to attention under the surface, you wanted to sit straight on it but he held you tightly, so it was just out of reach. You practically whined when he stopped you the second time.

‘In a minute Bambi, not seen my sweet girl all day.’

‘How was your appointment?’

‘All shiny & new again, Shuri said hi.’

‘Missed you today.’

‘Missed you too honey.’

As you were held in his arms clutching to him like the Koala you were you mind drifted.

‘Bucky Bear, did you know there’s a kind of fish in the amazon that swims up men’s urethra’s?’

‘Shhhh Bambi, that’s enough smart words from you.’

His mouth was battling with you talking but you carried on. ‘it’s true though, I should have asked if they have them here too. You do realise a urethra is a man’s pee hole.’

His eyes widened & you were swiftly carried out of the lake, once you were both secure & demon fish free in your orifices he laid you on the side of the water, the soft grass cushioning your body as he lay over you.

The kisses being pressed against your drying skin were making you squirm with need, your hands moved down between your bodies to line him up with you, ‘need you in me.’

He wasted no time pushing into you, connecting your lips as he bottomed out, ‘can never say no to you Bambi.’

Bucky never felt like he needed to count his blessings with you, he knew how lucky he was that you put aside every bad thing he had done in his life & loved him all the same but being back in Wakanda showed him how far he had come since the day he left. It was all because of you & him wanting to be someone deserving of you, it was no coincidence, he met you as soon as he got back, it had all felt too soon to be free & be able to walk around after what he did but then you would drag him out of his self-inflicted isolation, get up to mischief & ring him to come rescue you. You always needed him & he always needed you to rescue him from himself. Why had he wasted so much time, as he continued to pump into you, he could feel the emotions stirring, bubbling & he was doing all he could to stay in that moment, you underneath him looking as ethereal & fucked out as ever.

‘Not gonna last honey, can feel you squeezing me.’

‘Cum with me Bucky.’

 His hips picked up speed & he drove your orgasm into overdrive, taking over every sense as it slammed into you, picking him up & taking him along the way as your cunt fluttered & pulsed around his cock.

He was basking in the afterglow, your heart rate was returning to its normal pace & your mind coming back to him, he loved these moments the most, holding you tightly to him seeing your hazy eyes gain some focus, then the second you look up at him it’s like the world is as it should be. 

You were both still quiet, hands caressing each other & kisses placed wherever your lips touched & he could see the gears in your head turning waiting for you to say whatever random thing popped into your head.

‘Hey Bucky’

‘Yes Bambi’

‘Would you rather be able to speak to animals or speak every language in the world?’

He couldn’t hold it in anymore, you lay in his arms so perfectly anticipating his answer to the ridiculous question & he wanted to thank every god ever worshipped that one of them sent an angel to earth for him, you couldn’t have come from anywhere else.

‘Marry me.’

You studied his eyes looking for any hint of deception, but all that reflected back was sincerity, love & devotion, you felt the tears clouding your vision from this hunk of a man so scowly & rough on the outside always managing to show you how soft he really was, you couldn’t care less that you’ve only just got together, people would think you’re nuts but when you know, you know. 

The smile spread on your face. ‘Yes’

He crashed his mouth into yours, he hadn’t ever felt as happy in his life & reached into his soggy sock to pull out a ring & you couldn’t help laughing.

‘How long has that been in there?’

‘I bought it the day after you told me you loved me, been carrying it round with me since.’

He slipped it on your left hand & you took a minute to admire the beautiful ring sitting on your finger, it looked like a 1920’s design, with a central diamond surrounded by rubies.

It took your breath away at how perfectly it sat on your finger, like it belonged there, ‘Vintage, like you.’

He poked your side & giggled along with you. ‘Definitely not Tony Stark approved. I asked him for permission but told him the ring was already bought.’

‘I love it so much, it’s perfect, you’re perfect.’

‘Not even close to perfect darlin’, but I promise you that I will try to be for you for the rest of our lives.’

--

To say Bucky’s Sea legs were shaky was an understatement, he was fine on Tonys yacht spending the days spread out on deck or spreading you out below deck, his jokes of ‘when the boat is a rocking…’ made him giggle each time as you rolled your eyes at his total dad joke. Three weeks in Wakanda flew by & you reluctantly left with the promises of returning as soon as you could, neither of you wanted to leave but the yacht & whale watching trip had been planned especially for you so cancelling wasn’t an option.

The morning boat trip to the Sea of Cortez had been choppy, Bucky had a few bouts of nausea but you were just bouncing off the deck with excitement, seeing a real life whale had been your dream as long as you remembered. The bay was stunning, the turquoise blue of the crystal-clear ocean reminded you so much of your beloved Super Soldier’s eyes, the early morning sun was bouncing off the surface & beneath a rich abundance of life, the fishes mesmerised you as they moved in perfect harmony darting along the sea floor.

Towards the horizon you saw the first breach, it was breath-taking & you screamed for Bucky to come & watch, you wanted to share this memory with him, to remember such a monumental day with the love of your life. Having seen the whale’s, the captain turned on the engine to get closer to the action, you were buzzing in excitement as you headed towards them.

It wasn’t long before a humongous humpback whale breached right at the side of the boat, you couldn’t breathe as it crashed back into the water shaking the vessel you were clinging to, you realised Bucky was probably right about you demanding a blue whale as a pet, it definitely wouldn’t fit in the pool back at the tower.

You were startled when one of the whales surfaced right next to you, its exhale through it’s blow hole hit you right in your face & the stench made you want to throw up, rude. After a few moments catching its breath, it disappeared down & then under the boat, your eyes widened & Bucky noticed your pulse sky rocketing.

You turned to him, he was expecting a beaming smile but you looked terrified ‘I think we should go home now, I miss Burtie.’

‘We just got here Bambi, why?’

‘I told ya, miss our baby, please can we go?’ you tugged on his arm & he could see the panic overtaking your face, as he turned away to speak to the captain you clung to him.

‘Just gonna tell the Captain honey. You stay here, ok?’

Your eyes were fixed on the ocean but your reluctantly nodded & let go of his arm. The journey back was tense, Bucky knew something had happened, but he didn’t want to push you when you were still looking so terrified & stuck on a boat, he waited until you were back at your hotel to get to the bottom of what happened.

You were busy packing the cases, throwing in anything you could find to finish & get out of there as soon as possible, you could see him watching you from the corner of your eye, you contemplated getting down on your knees to avoid talking about it but today wasn’t your day, ‘You gonna tell me what happened back there honey?’ he leaned on the door frame with his arms crossed failing to look as stern as possible.

‘Bucky, I don’t want to talk about it ok, just leave it.’ He hadn’t ever experienced you speaking to him like that, maybe he should have left it alone, but it broke his heart that you weren’t comfortable telling him something.

‘No Bambi, we don’t keep things from each other so please tell me what’s wrong.’ He sounded so hurt that you wouldn’t tell him which only made your guilt feel so much worse about this entire trip.

‘No … you’ll just make fun of me.’ You shook your head hoping he would drop it so you wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

‘No, I won’t.’ 

‘Yeah, you will, all the guys always do.’

‘I’m not one of them, when I have ever made fun of you?’

You took a second to think, even when you told him about how you got shot he only kissed it better & yes might have checked the safety was on with every gun you were near but being safe is a good thing … ‘Never.’

‘Exactly so can my future wife please tell me why we left so soon when it was such a big dream of yours to see a whale in the wild.’ He had slowly made his way towards you & held your face in his so you would look in his eyes.

You paused, you felt silly keeping it from him, he might even tell everyone what happened then you would never hear the end of it until Natasha had interrogated you for the truth, you let out a deep sigh, ‘The whale, it went under the boat & I freaked out thinking it would surface underneath us & we’d be stranded on its back & I was scared, ok?’

He rested his head against yours, he hated that you were scared & didn’t tell him ‘Bambi, I would never ever let anything happen to you.’

‘I know but there’s some things you can’t stop happening, a giant whale is one. If you think about it, it could just swallow us whole. We’d be trapped in its mouth; I don’t want to die in a Whale’s mouth even if you’re there with me.’

‘I’d punch it, give it an uppercut. Wouldn’t stand a chance sweetheart.’

You giggled at how ridiculous he was being, he wrapped you in his big arms & looked down on you like you loved. ‘I never ever want you to be scared of anything when you’re with me, if you are I’ve not done my job right.’

‘You can’t protect me from everything.’

‘Just watch me.’

--

It took 6 whole months before Tony agreed to you having another vacation, you were on the brink of doing something to get you both suspended before he caved & gave you the keys to his log cabin. Turns out log cabins weren’t really your thing, yes, the aesthetic was Pinterest perfect, the way the rich green leafed trees overhung the solid wood abode with mist surrounding the bark driveway almost ironically like someone had desaturated your eyeballs to look at it all murky & mysterious. 

It was just so boring, no tv, yes, all the fucking one could muster & you both were practically chaffed at this point but a hike? Yeah, that didn’t end well, falling on a flat surface is a regular occurrence so why a trail with slippery rocks was a sparkling idea of Bucky’s you’ll never know, tumbling down a cliffside hurts as much as you think it will. Yes, you had your beefy super solider scrambling after you to rescue you or more accurately pull you out of the mud at the bottom of the cliff then carry you back & patch you up but it still sucked. Plus, it was cold & damp & unless Bucky was wrapped around you, your teeth were in a permanent state of chattering. 

The yacht was a sun kissed distant memory at this point, you had proposed the idea of zipping yourself in Bucky’s hoodie & slipping your legs down the front of his joggers so you could steal his warmth, but he insisted the height difference was the sticking factor of the plan, instead he decided to light the fire & lay you down on the plush rug that sat in front of the hearth.

‘Always wanted to do this darlin’, lay you out & kiss every inch of your skin.’

You were already desperate for him as he started pressing his lips on your shoulder moving across your décolletage, savouring the places that he knew drove you wild evidenced with how you body bucked up as soon as his tongue lapped your skin. You could feel every smile your reactions pulled from him against your hot tingling skin, the fierceness from the fire pricked at you but every ember of warmth within you was systematically being delivered by the super solider dedicating himself to your pleasure.

You were writhing, dripping & begging him to kiss you were you needed by the time he reached your hip, you hands wandered so many times he had to hold them down berating you for being a bad girl. You were ready to call him daddy, sir, his lordship at this point to get him to co-operate, ‘Daddy, please it hurts.’

‘Where does it hurt sweetheart.’

‘My pussy, need you to kiss it better.’

Hmmm is that right.

‘Yeah, please I’ll do anything.’

‘Anything?’

‘Yes.’

The thoughts were flooding to his head, you’d agreed to marry him already, probably was too soon for a baby but the thought was driving him wild, to have you carrying his child but he wouldn’t ever take advantage of your desperation like that. 

He moved his lips south, at a faster pace than he had been going up til now & met your dripping cunt, he could never say no to you.

‘Gonna wish you’d not asked honey, you’ll be begging me to stop.’

You were by the fourth orgasm, he swore you had squirted you insisted you probably peed on him a little & it was his own fault for not letting you go but here he was still not releasing you from his grasp as he tried to coax another climax from your swollen overstimulated cunt.

‘I know you’ve got another Bambi, can feel it.’

‘Please just fuck me Sir, please Sargent.’

‘Oh, I will be, but I need another from you, you gonna be my good girl.’

His lips clamped around your clit & his fingers returned to your sweet spot & somehow again you could feel another orgasm ripping through you, ‘yes, yes, yes.’ Your body spasmed, twitched & convulsed around his mouth as your mind entered another realm, you sensed he had finally released your arms & you lay there waiting for him to fill you like only he could. 

‘On all fours.’ The sternness of his deep commanding voice thrilled you into moving, your arms & legs were like jello & Bucky helped move your limbs, you were face down unable to see him as he marvelled at the sight in front of him, your swollen cunt was on display perfectly awaiting him, running his aching cock along your dripping pussy had you jerking forward, tremoring from the anticipation. He gripped onto your hips & pulled you back plunging his cock into your tight warm cunt, ‘fuck, such a good girl for me aren’t you Bambi.’

‘Yes sir, fuck me harder.’

‘What do you say?’

‘Pl..please daddy, pound me.’

He almost came at you so sweetly begging but he held on to speed his hips, if his girl wanted a pounding, she would get one, he let go fully, he’d fucked you hard before but this position & angle he was slamming his hips into yours.

You lost the use of words from the sheer force bucky was using, he wrapped your hair around his hand & pulled you up to him, so your back was against his chest.

‘You like it rough don’t you my sweet girl, can feel you squeezing me. You gonna make a mess on my cock? Touch yourself, show me what a filthy girl you are.’

You connected your fingers to your clit, somehow keeping a rhythm with Bucky’s stuttering hips, even both on your knees he towered over you giving him the perfect view over your shoulder of your tits bouncing at every thrust & your hand between your legs rubbing yourself exactly like he told you, such a good girl.

‘Gonna cum.’

‘Hold on sweet girl.’ He gripped you tight & pounded into you brutally, once, twice, three times, somehow deeper each time, you were squeezing his cock with everything you had as you tried to stave off your climax, Bucky practically spluttered out ‘cum for me Bambi.’ Once the wave of his climax hit him pulling you with him, he felt your body crumple as he released into you laying you both down as his hips continued to pump you full of him until every drop was spent.

After you had both led by the fire whispering ‘I love you’s’ to each other, Bucky reluctantly made his way to the kitchen to get you both something to eat, you were lost in thought when he re-joined you on the floor mimicking the way you were led.

‘Bucky Bear?’

‘Yes Bambi?’

‘Did you know some turtles tickle each other’s faces when they’re mating?’

You looked so shy saying it, he really felt like the luckiest guy on the planet, ‘Do you want me to tickle your face Doll?’ he couldn’t help poking your side to tickle you as the thoughts he was having earlier swirled in his head. 

You shrugged your shoulders being so damn irresistible laying on your front, bottom in the air legs crossed swinging ‘maybe’.

He rolled onto you, swarming you, engulfing you entirely with his body as he leaned on his elbows & gently tickled your face kissing down your neck from above as he pressed you into the rug, your laugh filling him to the brim. How can such a gorgeous nerdy idiot like you let a big brutish shell of a man into your heart? 

--

The Brooklyn brownstone was finally ready, it took every ounce of Bucky’s assassin training to keep it a secret, it took months of renovations to get the place to the standard he insisted your home should be, he stopped short of adding an elevator at Tony’s incessant taunting that you still had all four limbs so an elevator in a three-floor home was a bit OTT even for the eccentric billionaire. So far Bucky had kept his promise about taking care of you & giving you the life you deserved, Tony was actually impressed at the level of detail he insisted on & the purpose it gave the old man, as expected you were oblivious & just going along with whatever plan was in place to distract you whilst he attended to whichever house crisis occurred that day.

You had been searching for a house together having been very rudely evicted from the Tower after the whole control room incident; did you know when Bucky had you bent over the control desk that your tits had pressed the broadcast button?, no. Did the whole tower hear you calling Bucky ‘Daddy’ & that you requested him to ‘fuck me dumb’?, perhaps. Did it warrant the meeting where every ‘indiscretion’ you had committed was laid bare so to speak with HR?, probably. But being caught 27 times wasn’t a valid reason for the eviction you argued, no one was really in the tower to hear the broadcast & yes, a few buttons may have been damaged when you rode him on the desk, but no one actually saw anything. You retreated to your apartment with your tails between your legs once they brought up the security footage, apparently arming weapons that could cause significant damage was a no no. Prudes. 

It was an easy decision for Bucky to move into your place, he hated his grey miserable apartment & the idea of spending nights alone having been inseparable from you for months filled him with dread, he was sure he was outstaying his welcome when you mentioned his apartment a couple of times in passing. You were so sad when he announced he was going back to his place, waking up every day in his arms was your new norm & the idea of going without didn’t fly with you, so you gently suggested there was no need for you both to have apartments & that he should just move in with you, he wrapped you in his arms so incredibly tight with sheer relief that you swore he broke a rib.

He had planned the surprise meticulously, every event in your relationship thus far had been spontaneous, the declarations of feelings, physical exchanges, his proposal & although buying the house next door to Ms Alice was a frantic split-second decision having committed to buying it on the spot then subsequently having to beg Tony to give him the money, the rest he needed to be planned, intentional, as serious as he was about you. 

When Bucky suggested an afternoon in Brooklyn you jumped at the chance, he had been so busy recently with missions here, there & everywhere, you were one mission away from putting a suggestion in the suggestion box about people learning more languages so that Bucky could have a break, not that they took on board your suggestion for the suggestion box. Spending a day in the bustling streets snuggled up to your Super Solider was perfect, you had lunch in your favourite restaurant, played some footsie under the table, had a walk along the river, fucked in an alleyway, your favourite alleyway & then he slowly guided you to where you bought your puppy.

He was suddenly overcome by nerves, what if this was too much, he knew you liked being taken care of but was this too controlling? He felt the panic rise suddenly as you were questioning why you were here, then getting excited that Burtie was getting a little brother. He snapped himself out of his panic before he had to break your heart about not getting another puppy, any longer you would have named it & envisaged your lives together with another dog.

‘No honey, Burtie isn’t getting a little brother just yet.’

‘Oh.’ The disappointment in your voice was palpable & still managed to break his heart, he would just arrange with Ms Alice in the morning to reserve a puppy from the next litter.

‘Well we’ve been looking for a bigger place for some time & I heard one has come onto the market.’

You gasped, ‘Ms Alices?’ 

God damn it, this wasn’t going to plan, Bucky now had to disappoint you again.

He shook his head sorrowfully, ‘No honey,’

‘Oh.’ There it was again, fuck, Bucky you are such a fuck up.

‘Come with me Bambi.’

He grabbed your hand & led you up the stone steps to the house next door to Ms Alice, the keys were already in his palm as you reached the top.

The pastel blue door opened to a foyer of subway tiles & an intricate mosaic floor tile, as you looked up a further door stood with half stained glass & dark cherry wood, a console table was waiting for the keys to be deposited & brass hooks for your jackets were lined up perfectly on the dark blue wall.

You gasped as you looked to your left to see a mid-century lounge, filled with plants, warm hues & a beautiful original fireplace, the room was open plan into the next space which had the biggest walnut dining table sat on top of a beautiful Persian rug, the floors were original herringbone & you couldn’t even digest the stunning pastel kitchen that was wrapped around the back of the house complete with crittall doors to the patio & the garden beyond.

You hadn’t said a word as you drifted from one room to another in a trance at how perfect the place was, you hadn’t even seen the upper levels, you would sleep down here if they were a disaster, you definitely wouldn’t be able to afford it. 

‘It’s ours.’ Bucky shyly whispered, all excitement had been drained from him from your silence, you always talked, always. This wasn’t a good sign & he couldn’t help himself but fill the silence, ‘Sorry if you’re disappointed, if you want anything changing let me know or we can just find something else. Fuck, I should have asked you what you wanted, I just looked at your pinboard page & went from there but why didn’t I think you would want to pick everything? Tony said you would enjoy decorating but I said you’d get overwhelmed & hide in Gerald’s closet house & get him to keep fetching you coffees until you were buzzed enough to pick, I didn’t want your heart going through all the additional stress, you’re not a Super Solider like me & I need to keep you with me until I die, you can’t die first. We’ll just go back to your place & rethink, it’s fine.

You were speechless, you should have stopped him rambling & you felt so bad that you couldn’t vocalise how you were feeling, how overwhelmed you were that this hunk of a man was really yours & had spent time making the home of your dreams.

You turned to him, ‘This is what you’ve been doing & not going on missions?’

‘Yeah Doll, look I know I lied & I swear I haven’t ever lied about anything else to you ever, I mean that, cross my heart.’

‘& you did all this by yourself?’

‘Well Tony helped with the financing & pointing me in the direction of your pinboard thing & where to find people to do things.’ He shrugged, completely dismissing his efforts to protect himself for the disappointment he was about to face.

‘Pinterest.’

‘Yeah that.’

‘Well, you know me better than Tony because I wouldn’t have been able to do all this.’

At least he held some pride in knowing you better than Tony, but he still didn’t know if you liked it, the suspense was eating at him.

‘Like I said we can look for something else or change anything.’

You shook your head, ‘Bucky it’s perfect. You’re perfect. Fuck, how did I get so lucky having you to look after me like this? This is our home? For real? Am I dreaming?’

‘It’s ours.’ This time it came out stronger, you could hear the pride in his voice & the smile that was now carved on his face.

‘Show me the rest.’

‘Well, there’s the basement I figured could be a place for you to work, I thought I’d leave you & Tony to do that space, the top floor has three bedrooms all with their own bathroom, the second floor has our bedroom, walk in closet & bathroom, a guest room, then there’s this little room next to ours, not big enough for a bedroom, maybe an office but I’ve not touched it yet. What do you think we should do with it Bambi?’

Life in your home you shared with Bucky was good, to have met someone who entertained every wild idea & joined you with as much enthusiasm as you did was a concept you wouldn’t ever get used to, even when you thought back to being friends he was always the same. Whether it was the time he drove you to Niagra Falls because you didn’t believe it could possibly freeze despite seeing a live feed & Bucky explaining that no, the feed hadn’t frozen it wasn’t moving because the waterfall was actually frozen or when you insisted he join you looking for bigfoot in Virginia after you watched a YouTube video & convinced yourself you solved where to find one, he didn’t even get mad when you ended up getting lost & calling for Tony to rescue you both.

You looked at the home he had created, it was your peaceful place, over time the details had been updated, trinkets added, photos scattered the side tables of you & your Super Solider in various stages of foreplay caught on camera at functions you had attended which had become a running joke, including the one of you emerging from a cleaning closet that Nat had stood guard in front of when you told her you were trying for a baby. Next to you sat your favourite, the photo you begged Bucky to take with you & your now fully grown dog stood next to the notches on the door frame with a height chart of Burtie’s growth carved with Bucky’s knife, you somehow got Bucky to wear a shirt & trousers to match your dress, you were tempted to buy some pearls & Bucky a sweater vest to make it as cookie cutter & wholesome as humanly possible but didn’t want to push your luck.

You should be ashamed of your camera roll at this point holding so many pictures of them both, but the real life image of them both asleep wrapping themselves around you & your growing belly was an picture you wouldn’t ever forget. Life was pretty perfect. 

AN:

Thanks so much for reading & the support you've all given me, I've loved writing this & I have a couple of requests lined up which I'll do some one shots or drabble's on. Your feedback has also been amazing so let me know what you thought of their ending!!

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Found Archive Item: original photograph of James J. Barnes and Steven G. Rogers, circa 1945

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Archive Series

No no I have loved this so much I stayed up till 2 reading it 😌 i’m a sucker for a slow burn and your writing is just making me…. well I can’t say. But take your time and thank you for your writing I’ve loved it 😘😘😘😘😘

lessons in lovemaking [part three]

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, handjobs, fondling, nudity, fem reader, bucky is touch starved, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, very consensual, safe words, kissing, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, bickering, sparring, training, mentions of alcohol, natasha cares, injury, blood, reader is lowkey depressed, trauma, mentions of past violence and death, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: hey if you have dejavu seeing this, it's because the other post is glitched for some reason and some people aren't able to see it, i think it's to do with there being over 30 people on the taglist. i'll have to come up with a solution for that. in the meantime, pls enjoy and hopefully this post is actually visible!. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

"Go for the left."

Kate blinked. "The left?"

"Yes."

She looked from you to Bucky, eyebrows raised like you’d asked her to charge a bear with a toothpick. "We’re talking about the left? The metal freaking arm left?"

"That’s the one."

The look she gave you was flat-out incredulous. "Are you serious? Isn’t that the last place I should be aiming?"

You resisted the urge to sigh. "That’s exactly why you should aim there. Everyone goes for his right. They assume it’s weaker. Bucky knows that. He’s trained to defend that side, conditioned even. But the left? Sure, it’s strong. That doesn’t make it invulnerable. Watch him."

You nodded toward Bucky, shadowboxing in the centre of the mat, relaxed but precise, like a predator keeping his muscles warm. "See how he braces before a punch? That slight weight shift? It’s a habit. Subtle but predictable. It leaves a small window, but just enough. Learn to spot that, and you can drop someone twice your size."

Kate’s expression turned thoughtful, eyes narrowing as she studied Bucky more intently. "Okay… so how do you get good at spotting weaknesses like that?"

"Learn to observe. Don’t rush in swinging. Patience and preparation will win a fight long before your fists do."

Kate nodded slowly, rolling her shoulders. "Alright. Let’s see if I can prove you right."

She took a step forward, then hesitated, glancing back at you with a sheepish grin. "I am a little scared, though—"

You gave her a flat look. "Just go, Kate."

She groaned but turned back toward Bucky, stepping onto the mat with a reluctant sort of determination.

It was late afternoon, and golden light poured through the gym windows in long, drowsy streaks. Dust drifted lazily in the sunbeams, but the air was thick with tension—not the kind that came from training, but from something far more complicated. Natasha and Yelena had thought it hilarious to pair you not only with Kate for sparring but also with Bucky. You had no doubt they were watching from the sidelines, smirking into their water bottles. Those two were always scheming.

Natasha hadn’t said anything to you yet, but then again, you’d been avoiding her like the plague since yesterday’s meeting. She was too sharp, too perceptive not to pick up on the subtle shifts in both your and Bucky’s behaviour. The cracks were already showing, the slightly too-long looks between you and Bucky, the stiffness in your tone whenever his name came up, the defensiveness you thought you’d kept hidden but apparently hadn’t.

You knew you couldn’t dodge her forever. Sooner or later, she’d confront you. And when she did, you’d have to lie—or worse, tell some version of the truth. What that truth even was… you weren’t sure. Not yet.

And Bucky?

You had no idea how to tell him you thought she already knew. That kind of conversation was a minefield, one wrong word and you’d either send him into horrified silence or make him regret every second of the nights spent together. Neither option was appealing.

You exhaled sharply, arms crossed as you watched Kate bounce on the balls of her feet, testing the space between her and Bucky.

He stood still in the centre of the mat, arms relaxed at his sides, expression unreadable. Brooding and unimpressed, as always. He hadn’t looked at you once all day, not properly at least. And yet you couldn’t stop thinking about how you knew exactly what he looked like when he came undone beneath you, fingers tangled in sheets and voice gone rough with need. He had been about as excited as you felt when the ‘teams’ for sparring were announced. You were beginning to suspect some convoluted plot half the compound was in on to see you and Bucky go head to head.

Now, he was back to being the Winter Soldier, being precisely what H.Y.D.R.A trained him to be, stoic, intimidating, unreadable. He had a talent for making his opponents feel beneath him. Unworthy. It was a tactic, you knew that, but it still worked.

Kate circled warily, eyes darting as she tried to read him, every shift in her posture betraying nerves. You watched her movements closely, noting the hesitation, the constant foot adjustments. She was looking for the right moment. You just hoped she’d recognise it when it came.

Much to Yelena and Natasha’s annoyance, you had flipped their little prank back onto them, sending Kate out to spar first, hoping to break her out of that ‘swing first, think later’ style Yelena loved so much.

A shadow moved in the corner of your vision as Yelena strolled up beside you, arms crossed, her gaze flicking between you and the fight. Speak of the devil, and she will appear. 

"You’re staring real hard," she drawled. "What, got money riding on this?"

You didn’t bother looking at her. "She’s your pet project. Remind me again why I’m the one training her?"

"Apprentice," Yelena corrected smoothly.

You blinked. "What?"

She gestured vaguely toward Kate, who was still circling Bucky with the kind of careful precision that told you she was second-guessing herself. "She’s my apprentice, not a pet project. There is a difference."

"Uh-huh," you said flatly, entirely unconvinced. "And yet I’m the one teaching her how to think, instead of just swinging wildly and hoping the universe sorts it out."

Yelena smirked. "Because I am all wham, whack, bang, bam, action! Yes? You are all boring lectures and tactical talk. It is balance. How is she supposed to know how cool and awesome I am without hearing all your boring lectures about battle analysis—"

You turned to her, unimpressed. "Did you just make up sound effects?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said sweetly, then sipped from a water bottle like she hadn’t just made cartoon sound effects with complete sincerity.

Your focus shifted back to the fight as Kate feinted right, then hesitated—again. Bucky wasn’t attacking yet, just watching her with the kind of stillness that would’ve put even you on edge. He was waiting for her to make the first move, to reveal her plan before he committed to a real counter.

"She’s hesitating too much," Yelena observed.

"She’s calculating," you corrected. "That’s what she’s supposed to do."

Yelena made a sceptical noise. "If she waits any longer, he’s just going to knock her flat."

"If she rushes in without a plan, it’ll be the same result."

Bucky shifted—just a subtle test, quick and clean. Kate dodged, but barely. Her stance faltered. Yelena sighed, dragging her hands down her face. "Okay, this is painful to watch. You should just let me handle her—"

“No. I’m trying to teach her to think, not charge in like a wrecking ball.”

"Excuse you," Yelena gasped, touching her chest in mock offence. "I am a very tactical wrecking ball."

You didn’t respond, eyes narrowing. Kate was watching Bucky now—really watching. Good. She sidestepped his next move, then launched into the attack.

A feint to the right. A quick pivot. Just like you’d told her.

Bucky braced for the strike to his right, but it didn’t come.

Kate dipped low, powered off her back foot, and drove her elbow toward his ribs. Clean, sharp, decisive.

Bucky twisted fast, but not fast enough.

Her elbow landed. His breath left in a tight, surprised grunt.

"See?" you muttered, nudging Yelena with an elbow. "She’s learning."

Yelena lifted a brow. "Yeah, yeah. We’ll see if she follows through."

Instead of retreating, Kate followed through, using the momentum to drive her knee upward.

Bucky jerked back, but not far enough. Kate’s knee clipped his chin, snapping his head up just enough for the final blow.

You scoffed. "Give her some credit—"

A sharp smack rang through the gym.

Bucky let out a startled grunt of pain, staggering back, one hand cupping his face. Blood was already leaking between his fingers.

Kate froze, eyes going wide in horror. "Oh my god—Bucky! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—are you okay? Oh god, you’re bleeding—"

Bucky tipped his head back, exhaling sharply through his nose, which only made more blood drip down his lip. “No kidding.”

Yelena snorted beside you. "Okay, I take it back. She might actually be good at this."

Kate was still floundering, hands hovering like she wanted to help but had no idea how. "What do you need—should I get a medic? Ice? Tissues? A priest?"

Bucky shot her a glare, nostrils flaring as more blood dripped down his lip. "Just… just give me a second."

You stepped forward onto the mat. "Well. I’d say she followed through."

Yelena smirked. "Yeah. Maybe a little too well."

Kate turned to you, looking utterly betrayed. "You told me to go for the left!"

"I said to attack the opening on his left, not ‘punch him in the face like you’re trying to knock out a tooth’, but hey, improvisation is an important skill."

Kate groaned. Bucky muttered something low and vile in Russian as he turned toward the exit, blood trailing faintly in his wake.

Even Yelena blinked. “That sounded like a curse, Kate. Possibly an ancient one.”

“Don’t say that!” Kate whined in fear. 

"I’ll handle him," you muttered with a sigh, already following. You paused at the edge of the mat, glancing back at Kate. “You did good. Maybe pull your punches and ease off the full-force murder next time?”

Kate groaned louder. "That was me pulling my punches!"

Yelena’s laughter followed you as you crossed the room, clapping her hands together as she bounced on her toes like an excited child. "Oh, this is fun. We should do this more often."

You pushed through the changing room door and stepped into the cooler air beyond. The space was clean and sterile in that way that only rich tech-billionaire funding could buy. Polished tiles, dark wood lockers with brass fittings, and the faint scent of citrusy cleaner lingering beneath the hum of recessed lights.

The sound of running water guided you to the sinks.

Bucky was hunched over the white porcelain basin, one arm braced on the counter, the other still cupping the lower half of his face. The mirror above caught his reflection, blood-streaked, jaw-tight, brows drawn down in a frustrated knot. Crimson spiralled down the drain, bright against the ceramic.

“You look like a crime scene,” you muttered as you crossed the room.

Bucky let out a sharp breath through his mouth, meeting your comment with a pointed grunt that spoke volumes.

You raised a brow. “Are you going to keep glaring at me like I put out a hit on you?”

“You did,” he muttered flatly.

You rolled your eyes, making a beeline for the paper towel dispenser. You pulled out a few thick, folded sheets and pressed them into his free hand. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.” he grumbled.

“Bucky.” You shot him a look, unimpressed. “Sit.”

His jaw tightened like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he relented, pushing off the counter, and he trudged toward one of the benches in the centre of the room and sat down stiffly, wincing as he tilted his head back.

You crouched in front of him, studying his face. The blood smeared across his upper lip stood out starkly against his skin, but at least it wasn’t gushing anymore. His nose was red, swelling a little but not crooked. Reaching out, you ghosted your fingers over the bridge, careful and light. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

Bucky huffed. “Feels broken.”

“Yeah, well, maybe don’t let Kate punch you in the face next time.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t dignify you with a response.

Shaking your head, you folded a fresh set of paper towels and pressed them lightly against his nose. “Hold this. It'll keep you from dripping all over Stark’s precious floors.”

Bucky took them with a sigh, his metal fingers brushing yours briefly.

You sank to your knees without really thinking about it, watching as Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting the pressure with careful precision. His shoulders had lost some of their earlier tension, but his posture was still guarded like he was bracing himself for something more than just the dull throb of pain. The quiet hum of the ventilation system filled the space, blending with the distant murmur of voices from the gym beyond.

“Last night, I—” Bucky broke the silence first, his voice slightly nasal from the swelling.

“You fell asleep.” You cut him off gently, offering a faint smile. You didn’t know how much he had actually heard before exhaustion had finally claimed him. Maybe that was for the best. Perhaps it had been a mistake to let your guard down, to speak so openly, to bare your soul so easily. You had told yourself you wouldn’t burden him with your struggles. He already carried enough of his own.

And yet, he had this way of making you feel safe. Too safe.

It was almost ironic. He was supposed to instil fear, his name alone enough to make enemies think twice. And yet, all you saw was a rather sad, damaged, and tired man, his big, mournful puppy-dog eyes carrying the weight of things he could never put into words.

“Yeah. I don’t… remember it happening,” Bucky admitted, frowning slightly as if frustrated with himself. “One second, I was with you, and the next—”

“Did you sleep well, at least?”

He hesitated like he was debating whether to downplay it. But then, finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Best I have in a while.”

Your smile grew just a little. “I’m glad.”

Silence settled again, not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either. Then, after a beat, Bucky sighed.

“I’m sorry that I don’t talk to you much outside of… lessons.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Bucky. You don’t… owe me anything.”

“It’s just… I don’t know how to act,” he admitted, gaze flicking away. “Not with everyone watching. I don’t want them figuring out. I don’t like their attention being all over me.”

Your smile faltered for just a second before you forced it back into place. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, shifting the conversation.

Bucky’s brows pulled together in confusion. “How do you know about that—?”

You shrugged. It was your job to observe. To pick people apart and learn their secrets before they even knew them themselves. “During training, I’ve noticed you favour your right side. You block and punch heavier with it. You were compensating subconsciously because your left side was giving you grief. Have you thought about seeing a physio?”

His lips parted slightly like he hadn’t expected you to catch that. Then his gaze narrowed, a hint of suspicion creeping in.

“Is that why you gave me a massage yesterday?”

You smirked, tilting your head playfully. “Hm. Maybe.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Always two steps ahead, huh?”

You leaned in just a little, eyes glinting with amusement, a witty remark hanging off your tongue—only to dissolve the moment the door swung open.

Steve sauntered in, halting mid-step by the sinks as he took in the scene. You were kneeling between Bucky’s legs, a faint smirk tugging at your mouth while he looked down at you with something dangerously close to a smile—bloody paper towel and all.

Steve’s brows lifted. Confusion crossed his face, mixed with something harder to place, surprise? Suspicion? Whatever it was, he clearly wasn’t expecting this.

You jerked back instinctively, hands bracing on your thighs as you turned to face him.

“It’s not broken,” you announced a little too quickly, jerking your chin toward Bucky. “He’ll live. Bit of swelling and a bit of bruising. Nothing that won’t fade.”

Steve blinked, still trying to piece things together. “I didn’t realise you two were… friends?”

You let out a short, sharp laugh, already on your feet and several paces away. “Hear that, Barnes? We’re friends now.”

Bucky—who stiffly sat on the bench, with his hands still braced against his knees—remained utterly rooted in place as if one wrong move would shatter the illusion. His eyes flicked to you, then to Steve, then back to you, a silent plea not to say anything more.

Steve, on the other hand, still looked perplexed. 

“What?” you asked, turning back to the sink and rinsing your hands of the small amount of blood that had smudged across the skin during your brief inspection.

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing, I just, uh…” His face twisted slightly like he regretted speaking at all. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. It surprised me, that’s all.”

That stopped you. Cold. The smirk slipped from your face like it had never been there. Classic Steve Rogers. World’s most well-meaning bastard. Saying the worst possible thing with the purest damn intentions.

You hadn’t exactly made yourself the most approachable presence on the team. You kept your distance, never bought into the ‘team bonding’ crap that Stark and Fury constantly tried to shove down your throat. You weren’t here for friendships but to do a job. But something about how he said it—I’ve never heard you laugh before—grated deep. Like your silence was an affliction. Like you were broken because you didn’t play nice like everyone else.

Without thinking, you flicked water in his direction.

He flinched back with a slight grimace. 

“Thanks, Rogers,” you said, bone-dry. Then you turned, walking away without another word.

You could faintly hear Steve’s voice, panicked and confused, coming from behind you as you pushed the door open.

“What? What did I do?” he called to Bucky, his voice trailing.

“That was painful,” Bucky muttered loud enough for you to catch. “You always tell women to smile more, or is that just your opener? Remind me how you bagged Sharon talking like that—”

“That wasn’t what I was saying—!” Steve protested, his words quickly swallowed by the sound of the door snapping shut behind you

But it didn’t matter.

Because the truth was, you probably would laugh more if life hadn’t spent the past few years making sure you forgot how. If it weren’t for how every genuine emotion now felt like an act, something you wielded like a weapon to get what you wanted. The only time you really smiled or laughed anymore was on missions, tools of the trade. Smile here, flirt there, manipulate, mislead, vanish. You could fake it all like second nature, charm so convincing it fooled even yourself sometimes.

Because when it was real, it still felt like a lie.

You stalked back into the gym, trying to push the thoughts aside. Yelena’s sharp eyes caught yours almost immediately. “We’re going to the bar after this. You coming?”

You reached for your gym bag, slinging it over your shoulder without missing a beat. “No,” you answered flatly, prowling to walk toward the door.

“You’re not coming?” Kate had appeared from nowhere at your side, big blue eyes staring up at you.

You glanced down at her, deadpan. “Can you even go? Aren’t you like twelve?”

Kate’s begging expression melted into a playful glare, hands on her hips as you hesitated by the door. “No! I’m in college. I’m not a kid!”

You raised an eyebrow, her defensive tone amusing you. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” she shot back, almost proudly.

You grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “Ah, barely legal.”

“It’s fine, she’ll be with us!” Yelena chimed in, giving you a pleading look. “Nat is coming, the others too, maybe Kate can buy Bucky a drink as an apology for breaking his nose—”

“Hey! I didn’t break it!” Kate protested, then looked up at you with a fearful expression, voice dipping in volume. “I didn’t, did I?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning in dramatically as if giving a speech. “I can already see the headline: ‘Avengers Drunken Antics on Public Display’—.’”

Yelena scowled at you. “It’s fine!” 

You smirked, but the exhaustion from the past few hours still weighed heavily on you. “You’re probably right. I can’t say much, in Russia we had vodka with breakfast.”

“So you’re coming?” Yelena asked one last time, sounding hopeful despite your resistance.

“No.” You said it with finality.  “I’ve seen too much of your face today. I need a break.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow, but Kate was already heading towards her bag with a skip in her step. “Fine! More for us then!”

—

The training room was unusually quiet without Yelena’s smartass remarks ricocheting off the walls. Usually, the three of you trained together in the early mornings, but she and Kate were off on some covert infiltration upstate. Childs play for Yelena, really, though she’d taken her duties as a mentor for her little pet project rather seriously. That left just you and Natasha circling each other on the mat. You weren’t exactly thrilled about Yelena’s absence, which meant you were facing the full brunt of Natasha’s wrath alone. What didn’t help was that you hadn’t slept properly in days. You were running on fumes, and it showed. The last week had felt like one long string of wipeouts, each one dragging you down further with no sign of relief.

You ducked beneath a lazy strike, half-hearted at best, and swept your leg toward Natasha’s ribs. She blocked it with her shin like she’d barely noticed.

“Sloppy,” she remarked.

You threw a punch, weak and lazy. Natasha easily caught your wrist, spinning your body and throwing you to the mat. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs. She didn’t even break a sweat. She let out a short laugh, her hair spilling into her face as she looked down at you, amused.

But something was off.

Not in how she fought—no, that was as sharp as ever—but in her expression. Tight-lipped. Smug. And not her usual brand of smug, either. This was different, like she was sitting on a secret and absolutely itching for you to notice. She had that look again. The same one she’d had for the last two weeks. A silent challenge. An arrogant knowing. A game of cat and mouse neither of you had been willing to finish.

You groaned, deciding to cut your losses and pushed yourself off the mat, wiping sweat from your brow.

“There’s obviously something you want to say to me,” you muttered.

Natasha didn’t even pause. She moved in for another strike before you could fully recover, but you caught her forearm and twisted. She resisted effortlessly, that infuriating calm grin spreading across her face again.

“Nope,” she said. “Just… pleased, that’s all.”

“Pleased about what?” you asked cautiously.

Natasha pivoted out of your grip like water slipping through your fingers and swept your legs out from under you with a sharp hook of her foot. You hit the ground again with a dull thud. She didn’t bother offering you a hand up as if half-convinced you’d stay down.

“That I figured out your little secret before everyone else.” Her grin turned vicious. She started to circle you again, tone sing-song and entirely too satisfied. “Took me a while, but once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.”

You rolled up to your feet, levelling her with a look. “What secret?”

You played it cool. Innocent. But you both knew the gig was up. Natasha was like you, trained to spot what others missed, to read the body language no one else even registered. She’d probably clocked you and Bucky the moment you returned from the Gala. She and Yelena hadn’t exactly been subtle about their hunches, either.

She raised a brow. “Oh, come on. You’re really going to make me say it?”

You blinked back at her, expression blank.

“You,” she said, dragging the word out. “And Barnes.”

You deflected with a snort. “Yelena’s theories getting to you?”

“Don’t lie.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “He’s always making those puppy-dog eyes at you when he thinks no one’s looking.”

You barked a laugh, catching her off guard just long enough for you to swing a low kick her way. She dodged it neatly.

“Puppy-dog eyes? I can’t imagine it.” You lied through your teeth. “He always looks like someone kicked him while he was down. That or the brooding.”

Natasha’s smirk sharpened. “And you’re into that? He must be a very good fuck if you’re sticking around this long.”

“We haven’t…” You hesitated with a curse, missing a beat in your footwork. You shook your head, willing your mind to be able to focus on two tasks at once through the haze of fatigue. “Why would I want to fuck Barnes—”

“Considering our line of work, you’re a terrible liar sometimes.” You scowled at the amusement dripping from her voice. 

“It’s not like that between us.” You relented. “Not that it’s any of your business anyway—”

She cut over you, tilting her head. “You’re telling me you two haven’t had sex? God, don’t tell me it’s romance—”

“I’m just helping him feel normal.” You snapped back, hoping to shut her down before it got worse. “H.Y.D.R.A fucked him up, that’s for sure. The same way the Red Room fucked us up.”

Natasha made a face like something had clicked into place in her mind. “Shit.”

Your stomach dropped, movements stuttering as you realised you had unintentionally opened the floodgates. 

“Right,” she murmured, and something about her tone shifted. Not her usual brand of teasing. “You’re not… Never mind.”

You lunged toward her on instinct, catching her wrist with a clumsy grip. The contact was unsteady, your fingers didn’t have the strength they usually did, and Natasha didn’t fight back immediately.

“What?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied too quickly, too carefully.

“You’ve said it now,” you pressed, breath short. “Go on.”

She hesitated, her jaw ticking as her gaze drifted down, avoiding yours. The tension in her body softened by degrees, like she’d been carrying the thought for too long and finally decided it wasn’t worth holding onto.

“I just…” she exhaled, slow and controlled, “I worry about you sometimes. I hope you’re not taking on too much.”

You blinked at her, the fog in your head thick and sluggish. “Why do you say that?”

“You know what I mean.”

You knew what she meant, even if it was a truth you’d been hiding from yourself. A truth you didn’t want to look at too closely out of fear of it consuming you whole. A dull ache formed your chest, a lump in your throat as you shook your head. 

You knew Natasha wouldn’t have had any way of knowing those forbidden words you’d uttered to Bucky, the ones he had missed as sleep had pulled him under, the thoughts that haunted you now that you had finally shown them acknowledgement. You felt sick. Rotten to your core. Like maggots and rot festered within, wriggling and twitching beneath the skin, just enough for you to pretend, smile, and continue like normal as your world shattered around you.

“I’m not some broken little girl, Nat,” you said, heat rising behind your words. “I can look after myself.”

“I’m sure of that,” she said softly, and it was the softness that rattled you most. Natasha didn’t do soft unless it mattered. “But… can you look after yourself? Or have you just isolated yourself for so long that you’ve tricked yourself into thinking the only person you can trust is yourself?”

Her voice, the quiet honesty of it, landed harder than any blow she’d dealt all morning.

You looked down, your fists trembling faintly. You flexed your fingers, opening and closing them like the answer might be written in your palms.

“I’m fine.”

She didn’t argue, but she didn’t believe you either. You could feel it in the silence between her breaths. Natasha never spoke unless she meant it. She was always calculating like you.

“I just…” she said, the words tentative like they were being picked up and examined before they left her mouth. “I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

She paused, then added with a wry twist of her lips as if to soften the blow, “Or Barnes.”

You snorted, the sound bitter and short. “Since when do you care about Barnes?”

“I don’t,” she said. “Not really. But if he gets attached and this doesn’t go how he hopes, he could spiral. And if you get attached and he panics…”

“I know.”

And you did. You knew it too well. The thought had curled up behind your ribs and sat there, heavy and unwanted, gnawing at you whenever he looked at you like you were something soft. Like you were safe. You didn’t feel like a safe option. 

“Just…” Natasha’s voice was quieter now, more cautious. “Don’t lose yourself trying to fix him.”

You met her eyes, forcing yourself to stay grounded. To not waver. “I’m not damaged.”

Her expression didn’t shift, but you saw how her brow pinched, the subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

You sighed, the weight of your exhaustion peeling every word from your throat like it didn’t want to come willingly. “I’m also not trying to fix him. We’re just… friends. With benefits. Nothing more.”

She gave a slow nod like she was willing to accept that on paper, but in her gut, she wasn’t buying it.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll believe you. Just… don’t go all radio silent on me like you do. I’m here for you, you know?”

You raised a brow, trying for humour but lacking the energy to pull it off entirely. “You getting all sappy on me now?”

“Never.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

“Hm. Maybe.” She swiped the back of her hand across her brow. “But don’t tell Yelena. She’ll rip me to fucking shreds over it.”

Despite yourself, you let out a faint, tired laugh.

But it only lasted a second before Natasha lunged again.

You weren’t fast enough this time—your sluggish body didn’t catch up to the signal your brain sent. Her leg swept yours, and the mat slammed into your shoulder before you even realised you were falling. Pain flared, dull and heavy, and you lay there. Breathing hard. Staring up at the ceiling like it might offer you some kind of answer.

Natasha hovered above you, arms crossed loosely, her expression unreadable.

“Seriously,” she said. “When was the last time you actually slept? You look like shit.”

There it was, the usual cool, snide remark to cushion the fact that she truly cared. Like she knew you’d run like a spooked animal if she showed too much kindness. You didn’t answer right away. Just closed your eyes and let the silence stretch.

Natasha let out a grunt, not the least bit impressed.

—

You would have to warn Bucky that if he kept looking at you like that, the two of you were bound to end up in a whole world of trouble. 

It was bad enough that Natasha was on your tail—worse than that—she’d found the bones in your closet, polished them clean, and lined them up like trophies. You knew she wouldn’t breathe a word to Yelena, or anyone else for that matter, but you could feel a future creeping toward you, one where her tongue slipped. Just once. That’s all it would take.

And Bucky? He wasn’t helping. Not with that look. Not when even Steve Rogers did a double take, brows ticking up as if to say really, Buck? 

You were fresh off a particularly gruelling recon mission at Karpin’s club. No fists were thrown, no bullets dodged, but that didn’t make it any less exhausting. Playing the role of an attractive, naïve dancer took more skill than most people realised. You’d spent the last six weeks prying secrets from Karpin’s greasy fingers. Details about his buyers, how payments were moved, anything useful. He never suspected a thing, too high on his own ego to realise the little thing on his arm was gutting him for intel.

Fury had been unmistakable in his instructions—get the buyers first. If they caught wind that S.H.I.E.L.D was sniffing around, they’d scatter like roaches, and the whole operation would collapse. So you played the waiting game. Carefully. Precisely. Night after night.

Now you just wanted a drink. And a scalding-hot shower. Maybe both at once. Your skin felt like it had absorbed the club, cheap vodka, cigarette smoke, and desperation.

You adjusted the fur coat around your shoulders with a groan, trying to ignore how your dress—if you could even call it that—kept shifting against your skin. Yelena had dubbed the coat your ‘mob wife piece’ after finally watching The Sopranos, and the name had stuck. Your heels were the real punishment, though. Tall, unforgiving, and cursed by whatever sadist designed them.

After every recon job, the standard protocol was to turn in evidence immediately—cameras, bugs, audio mics, and a hand-written report. After six hours of playing pretend, you were scribbling in agonising detail while the evidence collection agent across from you gave you a rather pointed, unamused look. You briefly considered banging your head against the desk.

And, of course, Bucky was watching you. Not subtly. No, he was seated in a glass-walled meeting room across the way, surrounded by agents and Avengers, but his eyes hadn’t left you in a while. He looked like a gambler who’d just hit the jackpot. You watched him watching you, and you forgot to be annoyed for a second. He looked... ravenous. Unapologetically so.

The meeting finally broke. Doors opened. Agents spilled out. That was your cue. Evidence was handed in, and your aching wrist is getting no thanks for its service. The agent slid your report into a folder stamped ‘CLASSIFIED’ in angry red ink. You almost laughed. God, the theatre of it all.

Natasha bumped your shoulder as she sauntered past towards the elevator. 

“Better keep loverboy in check,” she muttered in your ear as she passed. Her smirk was wicked. 

You shot her a scowl.

Bucky was in the crowd, still watching. His gaze wasn’t on your scowl, though. It was lower. Tracing the cling of the gold mesh slip dress, the way it shimmered under the harsh overhead lights. Tacky enough for the job. Tight enough to draw attention. It hugged every curve with intent, and though it wasn’t your usual style, you were beginning to wonder if it might become one.

You hadn’t pegged Bucky for the type who’d go wild for glitter and skin, but judging by the look in his eyes…

Thank god for lessons, or he'd be dealing with a very awkward elevator ride. 

“I think I’ll take the stairs,” you replied, more bitterly than you meant to.

Natasha smirked as the elevator doors began to close, her eyes dancing with amusement and just a hint of sympathy. But it was Bucky’s gaze that lingered until the very last second as if he could memorise the sight of you before the doors cut him off.

You turned sharply on your heel and made for the stairs, the ache in your feet be damned. The heels bit with every step, but you welcomed the sting. It was easier to focus on than the heat lingering after Bucky’s gaze.

Four flights up, your phone dinged.

You didn’t have to check it to know. You already had a feeling. Still, a smirk pulled at your lips as you glanced at the lock screen.

Can I see you tonight?

Bucky had taken to modern tech far better than Steve ever had. Where Steve still asked what a GIF was or accidentally created a new group chat every time he tried to reply, Bucky had easily slipped into the rhythm. 

You thumbed out a reply as you rounded the next flight of stairs.

Aren’t you going out for drinks with the others?

Fridays had become a ritual for the team, provided no one was off saving the world or buried in a mission, so there’d be a few rounds at a bar nearby. Laughter. Cheap beer. Temporary normalcy.

You watched the typing bubble flicker to life… then vanish. Then again. And again.

Not my scene.

A pause.

Is that a no?

You grinned, slowing your steps just a little. You could picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, hovering over the screen like the answer might change everything.

You typed quickly.

I’ll come to your room right now if you ask nicely.

You paused in the stairway, hesitating outside the door for the residential floor where all the apartments were located. Your pulse tapped a little faster beneath your skin.

Another ding.

Please?

That was all it took.

You pushed open the door.

On my way.

—

“I want to try something different,” you murmured against Bucky’s skin, your lips brushing the hollow of his throat as you nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

It all happened in a blur when you stepped through his door. Heels abandoned at the threshold, your coat sliding from your shoulders like a shrug of tension gone loose. Bucky had lasted all of two seconds, long enough for a strained smile and a greeting muttered through clenched teeth before instinct took over. His hands found your waist. Your back. Your thighs. And then you were in his lap as he stumbled backwards onto the bed, the mattress giving under both your weight and the familiar gravity that always pulled you toward each other.

Mumbled apologies about the scent of alcohol and sweat were lost beneath kisses, the air thick with the smell of him—black coffee from his meeting and that damn aftershave—as you melted into your usual spot atop him.

His rough palm ghosted up the back of your thigh in lazy strokes, the pads of his fingers brushing skin like he already knew it by heart. You blinked up at him, studying the angles of his face, searching for that tell-tale flicker, tightening of his jaw, a furrow between his brows, anything that indicated hesitation or worry. But there was none. Instead, he caught your eye, the touch of vibranium fingers cool and featherlight against your cheek.

“Last time you said that,” he murmured with a low chuckle, “you blindfolded me.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” You cut back rather smugly, only to be met with a reluctant hum of agreement. “I want to talk about something first.”

Bucky stilled, alert now in that quiet, observant way of his. “What’s that?”

Your fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt. “Are you afraid of me touching you?”

He blinked, surprised. “No? Is this a trick question—?”

“Do you like me touching you?”

“Yes.” His answer came easily, without hesitation.

“But you don’t like me touching your cock.”

That gave him pause. The stroking of your thigh faltered. There it was, his jaw ticked, the smallest tension rising between his brows like a storm cloud forming just behind his eyes.

“I don’t…Isn’t that what we’ve been doing these past few months?” His voice was low, cautious.

“You let me touch you near it,” you said gently. “But if I move my hand under your waistband, even just a little, you freeze. You ask me to stop. I just want to know why.”

His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. He stared at the ceiling instead of at you, like maybe the answer was written there if he looked hard enough.

“There’s no wrong answer,” you whispered. “I’m not upset. I’m not trying to push you. I just want to understand. To help.”

He exhaled slowly, brows knitting in thought. 

“It’s overwhelming, I think,” he said finally. “The added…feeling. On top of everything else that’s already happening.”

“So,” you said slowly, “if it happened in isolation. Nothing else, just that, you’d feel more comfortable? More in control?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I think so.”

You hesitated, then asked softly, “Would you be okay with trying today? Right now?”

His eyes finally met yours, a flash of vulnerability behind the steel blue. “Putting me on the spot here, doll…”

Doll. That was a pet name you wouldn’t look too deeply into. Or acknowledge. He didn’t even seem to notice he had said it.

“You can always say no,” you reminded him softly. “That’s the most important rule, always. Either of us can stop at any time. No questions, no pressure, no hard feelings.”

He was quiet momentarily, gaze flickering between your eyes, searching for something. Then he nodded once, steady.

“Let’s do it.”

You paused, holding his gaze. “Are you sure?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a touch wry. “I trusted you when you blindfolded me, didn’t I?” he said, voice low, rough around the edges. “I don’t see any reason not to trust you now.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

You slipped off his lap with ease, sinking onto the floor between his knees, the hem of your dress bunching up around your thighs. You blinked up at him expectantly, steady but unhurried. Bucky hesitated, shoulders tensing as his hands hovered uncertainly at his belt. A flicker of embarrassment was behind his eyes, the kind he hadn’t yet learned to hide from you.

You didn’t comment on it. Didn’t tease him for the blush creeping up his neck, or for the way his fingers fumbled slightly as he undid the buckle and began peeling off the layers. You just waited—quiet, patient, allowing him to find his own pace. You didn’t point out the irony of it all, how easily he’d unravel for you, but how nudity still brought hesitation. Like showing skin was somehow more vulnerable than offering up his soul.

His boxers were the last to go, and by the time he slid them down, he was already half-hard, his cock flushed with arousal. The pink tint on his cheeks deepened as his eyes darted away from yours.

You tilted your head, shifting closer until you were kneeling between his legs. The warmth radiating from his thighs drew you in like a hearth. Your hand brushed lightly over his knee in reassurance, and he twitched at the contact.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice more hum than a question.

He nodded, but it was too tight, too instinctive.

You paused.

“Need to hear your words, Bucky. I’m only going to do this if you tell me you’re okay.”

There was a beat of silence, his vibranium hand clenching in the sheets beside him.

“I want this,” he said, voice low but certain, even if his body still trembled faintly beneath you.

You held his gaze for a moment longer, reading the tension in his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breath.

“You remember what to say if you need to stop?”

He nodded again, more grounded this time. “Yeah. I remember.”

Satisfied, you reached out, your fingers wrapping gently around the base of his cock. You were cautious at first, letting your touch linger without pressure, just the soft drag of skin against skin. A strained groan left him almost immediately, the muscles in his thighs tightening on either side of you.

You glanced up at him through your lashes, watching his face twist with the sensation. His jaw slackened, mouth parted, eyes nearly fluttering closed as you began to stroke him. Slow, deliberate, careful. He was thick and heavy in your hand, already pulsing with anticipation, growing harder by the second. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Not after the nights spent grinding into each other, his arousal pressed tight and insistent through layers of clothing, but still, the reality of him was enough to stir a wicked spark behind your smile.

You pumped him a few more times, watching how easily his composure began to slip. He was already squirming, breaths ragged, his abdomen twitching every time your palm slid down to the base and back up again.

His head fell back, a quiet whimper escaping him as you thumbed over the slit at the head of his cock. He flinched from the contact, one hand flying to your elbow and gripping it like an anchor, his whole body responding to the jolt of pleasure like he’d been struck by lightning.

“How do you feel?” you asked, voice low, almost teasing.

It took him a moment to answer. His lips parted, trying to form words while his chest heaved, his eyes glazed over with ecstasy. A drop of pre-cum beaded at the tip, and you collected it with your fingers, spreading it down the shaft to ease your rhythm.

“Good,” he finally gasped. “Amazing. Did it always… I don’t remember it feeling—”

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you leaned forward and kissed the tip. The contact was featherlight, but it shattered him. His metal hand shot up into your hair, not to pull or direct, but to ground himself, trembling as if the sensation threatened to lift him right out of his skin.

“Oh my god—” He began to whine.

You giggled softly, the warmth of your breath enough to send him over the edge.

Bucky came with a choked moan, his hips jerking as thick, hot ropes spilt over your chin and neck. His thighs trembled with the force of it, his head thrown back as if he couldn’t bear the weight of pleasure crashing through him. You stroked him through it, gentle and slow, coaxing every last pulse from him while he tried and failed to string thoughts together.

As he collapsed back against the mattress, boneless and dazed, you ran a hand up the inside of his thigh, using it as leverage to push yourself upright. His grip on your hair slackened and fell away, his hands lying limp beside him, fingers twitching faintly in the aftershocks.

“I’m gonna clean up,” you hummed, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He didn’t even open his eyes, just nodded, lips parted, breath still ragged.

“Okay,” he mumbled, voice thick and warm with lingering arousal. “I’ll be right here.”

—

It took only a few minutes to freshen up. You moved on muscle memory, warm water, damp cloth, and a quick sweep of your hair from your neck. You paused before leaving the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel in case he wanted it. 

But when you stepped back into the bedroom, you found he’d already taken care of himself, his boxers pulled back on.

Bucky was sprawled across the mattress like he’d melted into it, a sheen of sweat still clinging to his collarbone. He looked wrecked—in the best way. Hair tousled, chest rising and falling in a slow, almost dazed rhythm, but his gaze sharpened the second it landed on you. A lazy, crooked grin tugged at his lips as he lifted an arm in a silent invitation, eyes still half-lidded and blown wide with the afterglow.

You climbed into bed beside him, the weight of his body shifting as you curled into the space between his arm and chest. His skin was warm against yours, the hum of his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. You pressed a soft kiss to the curve of his jaw, and his breath hitched as your hand slid over his stomach.

His mouth found yours not long after, lazy and unhurried like neither of you wanted to break the spell. It didn’t stay that way for long. Hunger crept in. Familiar, greedy heat as his mouth parted and his fingers tangled into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath catch.

And then… you felt him. Again.

Your thigh brushed his hip, and you stilled. Then pulled back, brows arching in playful disbelief. “Already?”

The question hung in the air like a teasing note, half-smirk, half-curiosity.

Bucky’s eyes dipped, lashes fanning over flushed cheeks. He looked momentarily abashed as if he’d been caught red-handed, though the evidence quite literally pressed against your leg.

“It’s the super soldier serum,” he mumbled, the corner of his mouth curling despite himself.

You tilted your head, amusement rising. He was trying to play it cool, but the slight flush on his ears gave him away.

“Oh?” you drawled. “And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?”

His fingers scratched lightly at the back of his neck, a classic tell.

“Steve said something once,” he offered, deliberately vague.

You blinked. Your smile widened, slow and predatory.

“Steve?” you echoed. “You’ve been talking to Steve about this?”

“No!” His protest was immediate and rushed like a man trying to stop a landslide with a broom. “Not exactly,” he amended quickly. “He was talking about Sharon, I guess.”

A laugh bubbled up, and you bit your bottom lip to stifle it, your hand resting lightly on his chest. You could feel the way his heart kicked beneath your palm. Nervous, flustered. Bucky Barnes, caught in the act of oversharing.

“Sharon, huh?” you said innocently, voice tinged with mischief.

His eyes narrowed slightly, catching the shift in your tone. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said airily, pretending to inspect the stitching on the pillowcase behind his head. “Just something Yelena said the other day.”

Suspicion flickered in his gaze, but you forged ahead.

“She thinks Steve wasn’t as innocent as we all pegged him. Something about spotting him and Sharon… in a compromising position.”

Bucky snorted, turning his face into your shoulder to muffle the sound. “I wonder what they’d make of this.”

“Oh, I’d never hear the end of it,” you groaned, flopping onto your back with theatrical flair. “They’re already circling like vultures, trying to interrogate me about the gala.”

He shifted beside you, propping himself up slightly on his elbow to get a better look at your face. “And what did you tell them?”

You hesitated. Just long enough for the silence to tighten.

There it was, the flicker of guilt behind your eyes. You could feel it rise like a slow tide in your chest, swelling into your throat. You should tell him. About Natasha’s uncanny perception, the way her gaze had cut straight through you like a knife, and how you’d cracked under pressure with barely a word from her.

But you didn’t. You weren’t sure how he’d take it. Knowing someone else was privy to this—this, your quiet little secret.

“Nothing,” you said, soft but firm, hoping your smile would mask the lie.

His expression didn’t shift dramatically, but you saw his brow furrowed slightly—a quiet sharpening behind the eye.

“Nothing?” he repeated.

“I just…” You sighed, turning to face him properly. The pillow dipped beneath your cheek. “I figured you didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to make things messy.”

He was quiet. His gaze flicked to the ceiling, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower. “Yeah. It’s probably for the best, isn’t it?”

He didn’t sound entirely convinced by his own words, and you didn’t feel entirely convinced either. 

“It’s up to you,” you said eventually. “Everyone’s image of me is already… well, damaged.” You let out a soft, bitter laugh, fingers twisting idly in the edge of the sheets. “I’m sure this will hardly ruin my reputation. But yours…”

“That seems unfair,” he said, brows drawing together.

“What does?”

“The way they treat you.” Your breath caught slightly, unprepared for its bluntness. You looked at him, and he met your gaze head-on. No hesitation, no irony. Just honesty, raw and unvarnished. And before you could piece together a response, he spoke again. “Do you always do that? Make yourself smaller for other people?”

The question landed like a stone in your gut. You froze, eyes searching his face, almost disbelieving.

He hadn’t said it unkindly. But it lodged deep.

For a moment, you were tempted to laugh it off, to deflect, to be clever. Anything to avoid the sudden, unexpected vulnerability that cracked open inside you like a fault line.

Had he been watching you this whole time? Not just looking, but seeing? Had you been too busy circling Bucky to notice that he circled you in return?

You smiled weakly, wanting to fill the dreadful silence that had settled over the both of you. “I could say the same for you.”

His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you flush against him again. You could feel the weight of him against your hip, the heat building between you again.

You let your nose brush his. “Still something to do with the serum?”

Bucky smirked, lips brushing yours. “That… and you.”

You exhaled a breathless laugh, but something about the way his thumbs moved, slow circles against your ribs, made the warmth curl low in your belly again. The mood was shifting. Building. You could feel it.

And then his voice turned quieter. Uncertain.

“I feel bad,” he murmured.

You blinked, drawing back just enough to see the look on his face. 

“Bad?” you repeated, confused.

“For not…” He gestured vaguely between your bodies. “Returning the favour.”

You reached up, brushing your thumb along the line of his jaw. His stubble rasped against your skin.

“Bucky,” you said gently, “you don’t have to do everything all at once.”

He frowned, and you could tell he didn’t quite agree. Always so ready to shoulder weight that was never meant to be his. Always prepared to give more than he thought he was allowed to take. He carried guilt like it was just another one of his old injuries that could never quite be healed.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” you added, quieter now. “With information. Or… expectations.”

His eyes searched yours. “But I want to learn.”

“There’s a little more involved in getting a woman to orgasm,” you said, but your tone light as you tried to shake off the weight of his gaze.

“It doesn’t have to be… I just want to make you feel good.”

God. He said it like it mattered. Like you mattered.

Your resolve crumbled.

You rose slowly, coaxing him to sit up with you. Straddling his hips felt natural now, like returning to a familiar place. You took his hand gently, guiding it up over your shoulder over the thin gold strap of your dress.

“Okay,” you murmured. “Then help me take this off.”

His fingers moved with care, grazing over your skin, catching the strap between his thumb and forefinger as he began to ease the dress down your arms. The fabric slid away like a sigh, pooling around your waist, revealing the strapless bra beneath.

You felt him falter, brow furrowing in confusion. “How does this…?”

You turned around on your knees, back to him. “It unclips at the back,” you murmured, sweeping your hair over one shoulder to expose the delicate line of your spine.

“Just three hooks. Here.” You reached behind you, fingertips brushing the clasp.

His fingers met yours, searching as he followed your instructions. A breath escaped him, soft and shallow, before he found the hooks and gently undid them one click at a time.

The tension in your shoulders eased just a fraction. “There you go.”

His hands hovered, uncertain now that your bare back was before him like an empty canvas. You tossed the bra to the floor and reached back, guiding his hands to your waist, then up, encouraging him to cup the full weight of your breasts. He was hesitant at first, the pads of his fingers a little stiff, a little too tense. The contrast of warm flesh and cool vibranium sent a delicious shiver spiralling through you, eliciting a long, satisfied sigh.

That sound seemed to break whatever restraint he was clinging to. His grip shifted, confidence blooming. He began to knead and explore, thumbs brushing experimentally over your nipples. When a vibranium finger flicked one with the barest touch, you let out a soft whine, your back arching to press yourself flush against his chest.

“I think I like this,” he murmured, voice husky at your ear, breath fanning warm across your skin.

You let out a breathless laugh, turning slowly to face him again, your balance steady in his palms. His hands slid down to anchor you at the hips.

His gaze lingered, not just on your chest, but on your face. Like he was still processing, still memorising. Desire curled in your gut, a heartbeat between your legs. You fought the urge to reach down, to chase the friction your body was begging for.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you again. Something in him had shifted. He wasn’t following anymore. He was moving with intent. And when he gently rolled you back onto the pillows, his weight settling above yours, your breath hitched.

You tried to ignore the instinct curling tight in your belly. Tried not to let the familiar feeling of being beneath someone stir that old panic. Like the walls might close in around you. Like control was slipping just a little too far out of reach.

His mouth trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, between your breasts, and you squirmed ever-so-slightly beneath him. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, a soft sound of satisfaction humming against you. He licked a rough stroke over one of your nipples as if it were a primal instinct.

You groaned, one hand gently scratching across his back, the other through his hair. His knee slotted between your thighs, parting them easily, the gold fabric of your dress bunched at your waist. Only a thin slip of lace remained between you. He didn’t look down. He didn’t need to, his lips were still worshipping your chest.

His vibranium hand curved over your knee, pushing you open further, his hips grinding lightly into yours, and that flicker of alarm surged. Too strong to ignore.

You moved fluidly before it could root itself. With practised grace, you flipped the two of you, rolling him onto his back and straddling his hips in a single, breathless motion. He made no protest, just let out a pleased groan as his hands found your thighs.

You exhaled slowly, grounding yourself in the present. In him. His wide eyes blinking up at you, still caught in the moment.

He didn’t notice the shift. Didn’t ask why you took control again.

And you were grateful.

As you steadied yourself above him, he sat up suddenly, arms sliding around your waist. His mouth pressed a slow kiss to your sternum. He looked up at you, lashes fluttering, nose brushing the curve of your breast.

Your breath caught in your throat.

As he pressed another kiss to your skin, you realised—without a doubt—that maybe this was the single most erotic moment of your life.

Not the act, not the heat of it all but him. The way he looked at you. The gentleness in his hands. The trust humming beneath his skin like a live wire. The way your name might’ve been forming behind his teeth, even if he hadn’t spoken it.

You sank your hands into his hair and pulled him closer.

You were still tangled in each other, the heat between your bodies humming like static, when the apartment door swung open with an easy, unthinking click.

“Hey Buck, you sure you don’t wanna come out with us—?”

The cheerful voice stopped cold. 

Steve.

---

hello! i no longer have a taglist because it got too long and was reaching the tag limit. if you want to keep being notified of my updates please follow @artficlly-updates and turn on post notifications! i'll only be reblogging on there <3

imagine being bucky's mission partner

"You okay?"

Your eyes glared up at where Bucky stood over you, handsome asshole in his leather jacket. He asked again and even held out his hand, but you swatted it away and slowly got up from the ground. He watched and stepped forward when you faltered, failing to catch your balance. He was on you in a millisecond, holding you by the waist and standing way too close to you.

Cheeks warm from his smoldering stare, you pushed him away and started limping toward the doorway. You heard his sigh and anticipated his touch again - this time his hand fell to the small of your back.

"Come on, don't be like that..."

"I told you I had it."

Bucky kept a hand on your arm as he walked around you, his body moving to face you. His face had softened and he smiled gently, reaching a hand to the side of you face.

"I know you can handle yourself, I just...worry."

Knowing you couldn't be mad at him for more than minutes at a time, Bucky's smile grew a bit when you reached down for his hand. He gave it a squeeze and asked how you really were.

"That fall was bad..."

"My butt hurts..." your voice whined and he chuckled, bringing you into a gentle embrace; he ran his hand up and down your back, proposing that the two of you call it a night.

"They got away for now, we'll get them next time."

"Sam's going to be pissed," you shuddered at the thought but Bucky just shrugged.

"He's always pissed - let's go back to the hotel," he proposed, fingers gliding against your cheek. His touch brought comfort to the pain and you nodded, allowing him to kiss you on the lips.

"Will you ice my butt when we get back to the room?"

Bucky laughed. "Yeah, doll, I'll ice your butt."

Why are there so little Luke Danes x reader fics 😭 it’s criminal I need more

Locked- b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Bucky just got home from a week-long mission, but he has some work to finish before he can pay attention to you. You take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: Smut/18+, vibrator use, references to sexting/pics/videos, handjob, light edging/orgasm denial, PIV sex, needy/slightly subby Bucky

Masterlist coming soon

Find me on ao3: dewystars

“Oof.”

Bucky barely cracked the apartment door open before he had to stagger back and brace himself against the force of your hug. You stood on your toes, your arms around his neck while you peppered kisses to his jawline. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back into the living room, kicking the door shut before he leaned down to meet your lips.

“Missed you,” you said against his mouth, unable to hold back your grin. You’d been waiting for him, and you didn’t intend to waste any time— you hooked your fingers into his belt loops to pull him closer.

But Bucky just pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek and stepped back.

“I need a couple minutes, honey, okay? I’ve gotta finish this report for Steve, I’m sorry— half an hour, tops.” Ignoring your dismayed glare, he pulled his laptop out of his bag and found a spot on the couch to work. He hadn’t expected you to be wearing that robe— soft, slinky material that provided easy access to what was underneath. That complicated things.

Bucky had been away for nearly a week on a recon mission. And oh, you gave him hell while he was gone— those pictures you sent, and god, the videos. The videos he’d had to watch curled up in his sleeping bag, with headphones in his ears and his hands clenched at his sides because he could not touch himself, damn it. There was no privacy in the one-room safehouse they’d been staying in, not even a hot shower to provide an escape and muffle his groans. He was trapped. You knew this, but you still sent the videos, working him up and torturing him so he’d be frantic for you when he came home.

But he wasn’t even supposed to be home yet. The paperwork never ended, and technically he was still supposed to be at headquarters for another hour, filling out forms and reports. He’d snuck out early— one kiss, he told himself, and then he’d submit the reports from home, easily before the deadline. And fuck, he was trying.

You sat next to him on the couch with your legs folded under you. “Come to bed,” you said softly as you placed your hand on his right bicep, raising goosebumps on his skin while he typed. “Let me take care of you.”

He pulled his eyes away from the laptop screen to glance at you. Only a glance, because he couldn’t bear to look at you when you were staring at him like that.

“I can’t, honey. Just a couple more minutes.”

“But I need you now.” You were pouting, and the front of your robe had slipped open slightly— he stared for a second too long before he forced his attention back to the screen. He just had to get through this report.

He hadn’t shaved all week, and his stubble had grown long enough that it was almost soft when you reached up and stroked your thumb along his jaw. You kept your hand on his chin when you rose to your knees and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

He shivered at your hot breath against his skin, and his breath caught from the sting when you nipped at his earlobe. You worked your way down, mouthing at the tender spot just below his ear, and then down his neck, all the while holding his face steady with your hand.

But his eyes never left the laptop screen.

You settled back on your heels, your enthusiasm flattening. “Bucky, c’mon,” you whined.

He clenched his teeth. He really wasn’t supposed to be at home right now. And if he didn’t have this report submitted in the next thirty minutes, Steve would come looking for him, only finding an empty desk where Bucky was supposed to be. He’d be in deep shit then, benched and reduced to clerical work faster than he could say concupiscent. Steve didn’t understand; he’d never had you touching him, begging for him like this.

“If you let me focus, honey, I’ll be done faster.”

You were still for a moment, but then you nodded, and he thought maybe he’d convinced you. He didn’t look up from the screen, so he didn’t see how your eyes were narrowed. Settled. Determined.

You huffed, your lips pulled into a tight line. “Fine. I won’t bother you.”

You bounced up off the couch and disappeared into the bedroom, your robe slipping off one shoulder as you shut the door behind you with a click.

Bucky shook his head slightly and tried to focus back on his work. Twenty minutes, really. That was all he needed.

Successfully infiltrated building at 2200 hours.

His enhanced hearing was both a blessing and a curse. Inside the bedroom, he heard the unmistakable swish of your robe sliding down your skin into a silk puddle on the floor.

Subject was located in the northeastern corridor.

Then he heard the mattress creak as you relaxed back onto the pillows.

Agent Romanoff deployed taser #6708 to effectively subdue subject.

And then he heard that faint, telltale buzzing.

He bought it for you last Valentine’s Day— a little something to keep you company while he was away. Silky smooth and lavender, he’d used it on you that night, made you come so many times that you were begging him for relief, swearing you couldn’t take anymore. But he just pushed his cock inside you and kept using it, so he could feel the vibrations, too.

And now you were using it to spite him.

The buzzing echoed in his ears, and he grit his teeth as his cock grew heavy, filling and swelling until it was straining against his jeans.

Subject was restrained and relocated to interrogation area.

The tiny hairs at the nape of his neck stood straight out when, almost so quietly that even he didn’t hear it, you gasped. That tiny little gasp when you touched the toy to your clit for the first time, overwhelmed by sensation, sent his heart rate through the roof and made his cock throb.

That was it, he couldn’t— he couldn’t— Bucky slammed the laptop shut and stood up, tried to keep his gait steady on his way to the bedroom despite how he wanted to sprint. He twisted the doorknob, but it nearly snapped off in his hand because the damn thing didn’t budge.

You had locked the fucking door.

“Open up, sweets,” he said, his low voice shaking slightly despite how he tried to level it.

“I’m busy—!” you called, and yeah, no shit, but Bucky’s heart pounded when your breathy voice was sucked up into a gasp—

He hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets, trying to stand firm, but he let out a sharp exhale and swayed slightly when the stretched fabric applied pressure against his cock. He instantly wanted to do it again, just a little stretch, but no— “Okay, honey, I get it, I’m sorry— now open the door.”

But you ignored him, the buzz differing in pitch as you worked over your clit in slow circles. He knew how you liked it, knew exactly what you were doing to make your heart rate speed and your toes wriggle against the sheets. And fuck, he should be the one doing that to you, not a stupid toy—

Maybe he should just unzip his jeans, pull himself out and stroke in time with your breaths. He knew what you felt like, could picture you perfectly. You’d sent him those videos all goddamn week, knowing he couldn’t do anything about how hard they made him. Some with the toy and some without, some fully nude, and one just of your face as you played with yourself under the band of your sleep shorts.

That video was the worst— best— most torturous one. Because he could almost see you underneath him, squirming and moaning so pretty while his hand did that to you. He leaned up close against the doorframe to listen to you.

You hummed, a deep, throaty sound, and he could find a key, probably. It had to be around here somewhere— a kitchen drawer, maybe.

“Sweetheart.”

You moaned his name in response, and maybe Bucky would just break the whole fucking door down instead.

He tried to growl your name, but it came out more like a whimper as he palmed at the front of his jeans. His voice broke slightly when he spoke again. “Please.”

A soft click, and the buzzing stopped. Yes. Bucky stood up tall, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he heard soft footsteps crossing the floor. You turned the lock, and the door swung open in front of him.

There you were. Better than any picture or video you could send, flushed and radiating heat, his eyes swept over the smooth expanse of your bare skin. But only for a moment, because he’d waited long enough— he grabbed you and barreled you backwards onto the bed. He landed on top of you gently, caging his arms around your head and supporting his weight on his elbows.

“You’re horrible, you know that?” he grumbled against your jaw. You just smiled cheekily and reached down to undo his jeans. You tugged them down just a bit, not enough, and traced your fingers along his boxer-clad length. His cock twitched, pressing into your palm, and you grinned wickedly.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you simpered. “You’re so hard. Was that because of me?”

He nodded against your shoulder and pushed his hips against your hand again. “God, I missed you,” he breathed against your neck.

“I missed you, too,” you said. “Did you like the videos?”

Of course he did, you knew that, but he didn’t have a chance to answer before you hooked your thumbs in his waistband and pushed his jeans and boxers out of the way. He kicked them off at the foot of the bed, trembling above you as you stroked him— gentle at first, your light touch moving slowly along his length. But you picked up speed, and no, this wasn’t teasing, wasn’t even foreplay anymore— you had a goal in mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and panted through his open mouth. Maybe it would be okay. He could come now, and with his super soldier recovery time he could just go down on you for a couple minutes and be ready to go again. He could come. He was gonna co—

“What the fuck,” he hissed. The heat, the pressure, the friction had abandoned him, leaving his cock twitching and dripping precum onto your belly. His eyes flew open to meet yours— he should’ve known, should’ve seen your wicked grin and the mischief in your eyes. You pushed him off of you, pressing at his shoulders until he was up on his knees between your legs. A fresh bead of precum drooled from his slit when he watched you lay back, pick up your vibrator again, and touch it softly to your clit.

“Like I said,” you breathed. “I’m busy.”

What the fuck. Was he supposed to—? Should he—? He could just do it, he could just wrap his right hand around his cock and give himself a few firm strokes, that’s all he’d need to make a mess all over your skin, paint that fucking vibrator white. You met his eyes and you knew, you could see him struggling, but your face scrunched up in pleasure—

No, no, no, you couldn’t do that— he’d waited this fucking long— he might just die if you came without him, just within reach but still not on his cock, fluttering and clenching around him—

“Baby, please— you can’t—” He couldn’t touch himself, he couldn’t touch you— he dug his fingers into his own thighs.

“I can’t what?” Your words were a challenge even as your muscles trembled. You lifted your legs slightly as your hips shifted against the vibrator, and Bucky could only stare down at your core and groan. So fucking wet, dripping a puddle onto the sheets— his eyes flew up to yours, his desperation clear across his face, and you smirked. “I can,” you said. “But I won’t. Get up here.”

Bucky was on you in an instant, kissing up your jaw until he captured your lips with his. His leaking cock slid against your thigh and shit, that was good, but this was better— you reached down and gripped him, rubbing his head slowly along your slit. You lined him up, but you hissed when his hips jerked forward on their own accord, pushing several inches into you.

“Fuck, m’sorry—” He winced and pressed his lips to your cheek, pausing for a moment. He was usually good about taking it slow, letting you acclimate to his size— the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. But you grit your teeth and dug your nails into the sides of his ass, pulling at him, urging him deeper.

“Oh— you’re— you’re desperate too— huh?” he panted above you, trying to tease but absolutely failing with how ragged his breaths were. He pushed in an inch at a time, each motion causing you to suck in your breath and squeeze your eyes shut, but a smile had formed on your lips.

He let out a long, low groan when he was fully sheathed inside of you. He was about to start moving, but—

“Shit,” he hissed, because he felt you flutter around him once, twice— “You close already, honey? Holy hell.” That vibrator was magic—

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you said, but then you whimpered. “Wanna come, Buck.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice— he fucked up into you, hard, quickly picking up a brutal pace. You didn’t try to restrain your moans as you tightened around him, and the pressure was blinding, squeezing him and quivering until—

“Oh, fuck.” He pushed in deep and froze as the pleasure washed over him. His cock pulsed the first hot spurt inside of you, and you cried out, clenching down around him. His hips found an unsteady rhythm, his feet pushing against the sheets to try to get even deeper inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you fighting to catch your breath. Bucky chuckled lowly against your neck, and you turned to murmur in his ear. “Welcome home,” you said.

But a loud noise made you both jump— Bucky’s phone was ringing in the living room. Bucky groaned but you shook your head, laughing— and he laughed too when you pressed both of your hands over his ears, to block out the sound, and kissed him. Nothing else mattered. Not right now.

if you enjoyed this fic, please reblog so others can find it!

Ships with height differences. Reblog if you agree

I mean wow. I just. wow.

ₚᵣₒbₗₑₘ ₛₒₗᵥₑᵣ

what if fantasies could really come to life?

warnings: sex fantasies, oral (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), heaving makeouts, and prob more let me know what I'm missing <3

"god, please James, feel's so good," I whine, head falling back against the back of the couch. My fingers dance through the short strands of his hair, eyes fluttering down to meet his lustful gaze between my legs. I bite my lip, relishing in the feeling of his skillful tongue against my sopping core. His hands are gentle, yet firm as they keep my thighs open and atop his shoulders. His tongue moves quicker against my folds as legs start to shake violently around his head. "fuck! please, please, pl-"

"Y/n? You okay?" Bucky asks, staring me down. I blink and refocus, stirring the pasta sauce that was tempted to burn. He remains leaned on the counter, setting down his beer. "Yeah sorry," I sigh, leaning over to grab some spices. I open and sprinkle a little into the pot one by one, enjoying the hum of music in the background. It was always easy like this--with Bucky. Silence was never awkward, and often enough words wouldn't need to be spoken to know how one another felt. But this time? This time he definitely wouldn't know what was going on inside my head. I hope. "Do you want me to take over?" He asks, walking to the other side of me to pour the pasta in the boiling water. God, he really is that innocent isn't he? I could think of a few way he could take over but "it's fine, I got it." With a smile on my face. He returns the small smile, something that rarely slipped out. Bucky was closed off, which would make since after everything -- but not so much with me. Before, when we first decided to share an apartment because he needed better decoration skills, and I needed someone to make sure it was organized, he would only force a smile if he had to. But on nights like these, when it was just the two of us after a long day-- his smile felt like it was reserved for me. Maybe that's what started my fantasies in the first place.

He grabs the pasta, pouring it into the boiling water. He moves effortlessly around the kitchen, grabbing a spatula and a strainer. I watch him in awe, moving my spoon in slow circles in the sauce. When he returns to the pot, his hand flex's has he stirs, the sight making me drool, literally. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, clearing my throat. I focus on the sauce, and turn the heat off. I grab a spoon and dip it in before bringing it to my mouth, taking in the flavors. "Is it good?" He asks, glancing over at me. I have to look away, those blue eyes making me weaker. "Yeah, you wanna try?" I dip the spoon in again as to give it to him. He takes it and brings it to his mouth. I groan internally, dirty thoughts clouding my senses. He hums in approval, setting the spoon down in the sink. "Delicious," he says, stirring the pot of pasta. I swallow hard, clenching my thighs together. I mutter a small thanks, grabbing some plates and forks. He pours the sauce in the pasta, glancing over his shoulder as I set down our plates on the island bar. He leans over the counter, placing portions on the plates as I fix up a salad. All of this was in silence, a comfortable one for him, but aching and desperate for me. Dinner was the same. My chewing came to a stop when I looked over at his beautiful form, he wasn't sloppy at all when he ate. He was careful, deliberate, savoring every bite. And so what if my mind started to wander? It's not my fault really, he's such a tease.

He kisses me, lifting me up onto the island, helping my anxious hands unbutton my shirt. "Relax, sweetheart. We got all night," he whispers into my ear, vibranium hand snaking down to rub my covered clit. I whine into his mouth, wrapping my arm around his neck to bring him impossibly closer, the other clenching white knuckles against the cool marble. I kiss him feverishly, grasping at his shirt, hair, everything. He gets my shirt unbuttoned, throwing it on the floor. He helps me shimmy my panties off, hands sliding up my legs, waist-

"What are you thinking about?" Bucky's voice brings me out of my daze, and suddenly I realized that I was just in a button up shirt and panties. I swallow my bite and glance at him. He's finished already, casually sipping a beer. Now this? This was too much. My thighs clench together again, which didn't seem to go unnoticed by the man beside me. "You ask a lot of questions," I say cooly, sipping my drink. "You never ask Sam this many questions," I state. His eyebrow raises as he sets his drink down. "Do you only talk to Dr. Raynor?" He asks, a playful smirk on his face. "No." Maybe I answered that too quickly. Or too harshly. Or maybe both. "Sorry," I say quickly, standing up to gather the plates. I sigh as I set them in the sink, washing out my cup. He comes up behind me and takes a plate. I make room for him, setting the cup in the dishwasher. "I don't like talking to Dr. Raynor," I finally say, picking up a fork. "Why?" As his voice always been this raspy? "Because I don't feel like talking about my problems with her. It's not like she can fix them." I say with a huff, taking his plate to put in the washer. He hums, finishing off the other utensils. "You can talk to me you know," he says, turning off the water. I exhale sharply, "I already told you about...my problems." I groan, going to sit on the couch. "Yeah, that's why I know you've got something else on your mind." He says with a smile, going to sit in the armchair. I roll my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest. His gaze stays locked on my figure, blue eyes searching for mine. I bite my lip, clenching my thighs together. "I don't wanna talk about it." I say quietly, looking out the window. It's silent for a moment, the faint sound of the dishwasher filling the apartment.

"Why don't you show me then?" He says calmly, sipping his beer. My head whips back to him, my feet returning to the floor. "What?" I gasp, giving him a confused look. He smirks at me, setting his beer bottle down on the coffee table. "Just come here," he says with a small smile. I swallow, slowly standing up. I eye him suspiciously as he keeps his eyes on my face. I walk to stand before him, crossing my hands over my chest. "Look, I told you I'm fin-" he pulls my gently down into his lap, his ever piercing gaze still locked onto my eyes. I let out a shaky breath, uncrossing my hands to stabilize myself on his shoulders. God, I should have worn more than just panties, because in this position? Fuck, their soaking. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He says quietly, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. My face flushes, eyes avoiding his gaze. "Why do you do this to me?" I ask, eyes meeting his gaze again. He gives me an innocent look, placing his hands on my waist. "Gonna have to be specific sweetheart," he grins, vibranium hand shifting with a mechanic whirr as his hold tightens. I roll my eyes, biting my lip. God, I want to kiss him so bad. "I don't wanna look like...I'm obsessed or something, you know?" I say quietly, hands firm on his shoulders. He smiles at me, hand reaching up to caress my cheek. "Who would think that?" He asks, taking my hand in his vibranium one to bring it to his lips. He kisses the back of my hand softly, eyes trained on mine. "You know, you've got quite the staring problem," I smile. "So I've been told," he responds, with a playful look in his eyes. I hum in agreement, swallowing hard. I sigh, tongue poking out to wet my lips. Before I can even get a word out, he steals the words right out of my mouth. "Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you," he says, hand trailing up to the back of my neck.

I let out a small gasp, hands reaching around to play with his hair. "You want to kiss me?" I ask quietly, staring into his blue eyes. He smiles, cupping the back of my neck to bring me closer. I hesitate, just for a moment to consider the consequences. As I leaned in all the way, I couldn't really think of any. The kiss started off slow, like the moment was being savored. It felt like a daydream, I was kissing my roommate, James Bucky Barnes and fuck did it feel amazing. And then, like he became impatient and desperate, the kiss turned feverish. Tongue dancing, teeth grazing, swollen lips kind of kissing. I moaned, no, actually whined into the kiss, leaning back as to force him forward, the ever-present bulge pressing right onto my excuse for panties. He gently bites down on my bottom lip, pulling away as it releases back with a soft pop! I let out labored breaths, the need in my stomach growing by the second. "Has it ever occurred, that I may be obsessed with you?" he says, eyes full of lust. My lips tremble, wetness threating to seep through my panties. "Fuck," I whine, reconnecting my lips with his. My fingers find my buttons, shakily unclasping each one. Swiftly, he replaces my fingers with his own, kissing down my jaw. I moan softly, biting my lip. He gets it unbuttoned, slowly, torturously, sliding it down my arms, keeping eye contact all the while. I sigh as it hits the floor, hands finding themselves on his thighs. Bra-less. How could I have forgotten I went bra-less too? It's like I was begging to get fucked.

My nipples harden at the sudden coolness, goosebumps rising on my skin. He leans down, pursing his lips together. He lets out a gentle blow of air over them, a sharp exhale leaving my throat. "Sensitive," he mutters, hands reaching up to cup my breasts. The sensations were different- right one under the cool touch of metal, the left warm from the flesh of human. "Shit, that feels so good James," I groan, eyes meeting where he touched. His soft lips connect with the hardened bud, a gasp leaving my lips. My thighs try to clamp together, however his own made sure I couldn't as my slick seeped through my panties. He lets his tongue swirl around the bud before sucking gently, letting it go with a pop! as he moves to the next one. Impatiently, my hand reaches down to his throbbing bulge, helping him relieve some pressure. He groans, kissing up my chest to my collarbone. My fingers find his jeans, undoing the button. He kisses up my jaw, softly sucking at the skin below my ear. Unzipping his jeans, he stops my hand with his. "Let me look at you first," he says, leaning back. I bite my lip, taking a deep breath. "Want me to take those off?" He asks, fingers slipping under the sides of my panties. I nod, standing up, in between his legs. He leans forward, leaving kisses down my thigh has he slides them off antagonizingly slow. I step out of them, shivering as he places them on the edge of the chair. He sets his hands on my waist, slowly spinning me around before pulling me back down into his lap. Oh.

I nearly moan at the bugle pressing into my ass, the wetness in-between my legs practically soaking his jeans. God why is he still in his clothes? "Hey, why do I have to be naked when you're--shit..." his vibranium hand slithers down my front, ghosting over my aching core. My head falls back against his shoulder, hands gripping the sides of the chair. My eyes flutter shut as he applies pressure to my clit, the cold metal sending jolts through my body. I let out a whine, biting my lip as he rubs slow circles, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. My legs begin to tremble, desperate to close around his hand, (which would fail to stop his movements anyways) but his thighs continued to spread my legs open. His movements only increased in speed, yet somehow still gentle. Moans slipped from my throat, desperate pleas of his name mixed with labored breaths at his movements. It didn't take long for the coil to snap, crying out as my body shakes in his touch. I rested my head on his shoulder as I caught my breath, my firm hold on the chair's arms releasing as the ringing in my ears dissipated. He leans down to capture my lips in a kiss, smiling as my eyes fluttered shut. "You okay sweetheart?" he asks softly, lifting me up into his arms. I nod, keeping my eyes shut. He walks to his bedroom, placing me on the bed. As he starts to stand up, I reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him on top of me.

"Wasn't done with you yet," I whisper, kissing him feverishly. He hums into the kiss, surprised. "Not too tired?" he asks, pulling his shirt off to be discarded onto the floor. "Not for you," I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck.

this is facts