When you see “English isn’t my first language…” just know the fic is going to be top-tier. Nonnative English speakers will always give a delicious fanfic.

Play Pretend

summary: When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 7.8k warnings: smut (18+), sex pollen (with as much consent as one can have in a dub/con trope)

“What in the—” you slammed an elbow to the nose of the assailant behind you, “holy,” a quick right jab to another coming up on your left, “godforsaken,” a knee plunged straight to your ribs and you kicked to the assailant who managed to get one up on you, “hell, Rogers!”

Another body fell to the ground and settled at the collection at your feet.

Dripping in sweat, heart pounding in your chest, and your body short of giving out completely, you slumped a shoulder against the cold frame of the wall. Down the hall, at least a dozen more Hydra agents were barreling towards you.

There was no response on the coms; not that you expected as much. The Hydra base in Munich you were tasked with rigging to blow was meant to be abandoned. Nothing left but a dozen empty cells and decades of barbaric research no one should ever lay eyes on again.

Seemed Captain Roger’s intel was just slightly off. Tell that to the series of bodies lying in your wake.

“You better send backup, Rogers, or I swear to God I’ll haunt your star-spangled ass for all eternity,” you grumbled to the broken transmission as you attempted to square up. Fists out ahead of you, swaying slightly on weakened legs, a dizziness in your vision making it hard to tell exactly how many men were charging straight at you.

“What? I’m not enough for you?” Bucky suddenly appeared on your right, chuckling to himself as he released the empty magazine from his weapon and quickly replaced it with a new one. Blood was soaked into his hair line, mixing with the sweat beaded on his forehead, and he brushed the back of his hand against his face to smear it back into his hair.

“About time you showed up. Making me do all the hard work myself,” you scoffed, shooting him a teasing smile as you eyed the hallway he came rushing in from.

He insisted you’d be out in time for movie night back home if the two of you split up, divided the C4 amongst you and met back at the quinjet in twenty. Not even his super soldier instincts could have predicted this place would be overrun with stray Hydra agents looking for a rematch.

One of the agents opposing you whipped out a handgun and Bucky jumped forward, using his left arm as a shield. The bullets ricocheted across the room, puncturing into another Hydra agent who collapsed to the ground clutching his knee.

You exhaled a heavy breath, the edges of your lips dipping down into a frown as you watched more agents stepping over the bodies of their colleagues and advancing down the hallway. You glanced up at Bucky, watching as he weighed the rifle in his hands, bouncing it lightly. It was running low on ammo.

“You get anyone on coms yet?”

“Nothing. We’re on our own.” Bucky gritted his teeth, firing a few rounds down at the mass of Hydra agents swarming their way towards you. It knocked a few of them down, at least.

You started to take a few steps in their direction, yanking a knife from the spine of an agent on the ground before you whipped it down at the ones ahead of you, knocking another to the ground. The echo of gunfire tore through the cramped hall again and it left a pile of men at the front lines.

Four left.

“That was my last round,” Bucky grunted, tossing the weapon to the floor as he tugged a small blade from the holster on his thigh. He smirked as he glanced over at you through the corner of his eye. “Who do you want?”

You shrugged, studying the four agents who came to a slow halt at the opposite end of the hallway. The two on the left looked about as you’d expected from Hydra agents; tall, dark haired, with shoulders twice as wide as their hips and a vicious kind of look in their eyes. Then, a blonde-haired woman who couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from Bucky, a hand resting impatiently on the knife against her hip. Last, a man who towered at least two feet above the others with a long, jagged scar covering most of his face.

“I’ll take the two on the right.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, glancing between you and your chosen assailants. The taller one cracked his neck to the side and bared his teeth.

“You’re sure?”

You feigned offense; a hand pressed your heart as you took a few steps forward, sliding the batons out from the holsters along your shoulder blades and twirling them between your fingers. “You underestimate me, Barnes. You think I’d let you have all the fun?”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he jogged to catch up with you, disregarding the battle cries of the Hydra agents as they advanced as if it was only ever the two of you in the room. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.”

The blonde woman stared to advance on Bucky, eyes trailing him up from his boots to the top of his head with a devilish kind of look in her stare. She licked at her lips hungrily, as if she was ready to take a bite into him, though he paid her no mind as he rushed at the two men to her right.

“Hey, Barbie!” you called, waving a baton in the air to grab her attention. “Looks like your stuck with me.”

She glared at you, pausing in her strut for only a minute, but it was all you needed. You sprinted towards her, using the wall as leverage as you jumped up against the frame to propel yourself into her. Baton at ready, you slammed down into her collarbone as she let out a yelp and fell down to the ground. It didn’t take her long to get back on her feet and when she did, her knife was nestled tight into her grip, a new kind of intrigue on her face as she stared you down.

“Need any help over here?” Bucky called out from the end of the hallway as he ducked under the right hook of one of his assailants. He clipped one in the knees, sending them spiraling to the floor with a pained shout, before he smirked over in your direction.

“Mind your business, Barnes!” You rolled your eyes as a smile crept up against your lips.

Barbie took a single glance back at Bucky before her eyes returned to you and there was something darker within her stare you didn’t quite notice, or perhaps you simply mistook it for enemy territory. Either way, when she raised her arm with knife in hand, you whipped around the baton in a backhanded strike, sending the knife flying down the hall. Unarmed, she stared at you with wide, fearful eyes, until you knocked her out with a final hit to the side of her. Nothing fatal, but it would keep her under until backup arrived to hull her in.

Bucky was still fighting off his second attacker as you approached the man leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, patiently waiting. He pushed himself off the wall, cracked his knuckles between his palms with sharp snaps that echoed down into the hallway.

“Think you can take me, little girl?” he taunted, voice low and thick, like it had gone years in disuse. He made a show of the way he settled into his stance; fists held out in front of him, shadow boxing in an attempt to intimidate you. It seemed to catch him off guard when you rolled your eyes.

“It’s been a long day,” you shrugged, “and frankly, I’d like to go home. So, let’s make this quick.”

The arrogant smirk dropped from his face, replaced quickly with a wash of rage that a woman half his size would dare mock him in such a way. But he was clumsy in his stance and in his swings, so you saw each of his moves coming a mile ahead. With every right hook, you slid under his arm and stepped out behind him. In every jab, you side stepped out of reach. He exhausted himself while you made little effort in your defense. Without a single offensive throw, he was panting in a matter of minutes.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” he bellowed, loud enough to make Bucky pause for a moment and you winced as his assailant took advantage of the moment to get in a punch to his jawline. He recovered quickly, giving you the security to face your own attacker head on. The Hydra giant was dripping in sweat, red in the face, teeth bared and near feral. “Fight me!”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

As he threw his next swing, you met it with the brunt of your baton, stilling him in his stance. He stared at you, wide eyes and jaw slacked, as you winked at him and dove under his legs. Before he could manage to turn around, you flicked at switch at the bottom of the batons which emitted an electrical pulse from the top edge and plunged it into the man's neck.

He convulsed, gargling out a few incoherent words, before he collapsed to the floor at your feet. You grinned, sliding the batons into the holsters at your shoulder blades.

“Alright, I take it all back,” Bucky’s voice chuckled from behind you. “You don’t need me at all.”

You laughed, shaking your head as several strands fell down into your face, lost to the bun at the top of your head in the struggle. As you turned to face Bucky, you found him standing with his hands planted on his hips and the brightest smile on his face, one that took him years to find again since you first met him and damn if it wasn’t one of the most beautiful sights you’d ever seen.

But then, there was a sudden rush of movement on the ground. One of the Hydra agents wrestled back up to his feet behind Bucky, a malice imbedded deep into his glare, a determination as he rushed forward.

There was little time to think as you lunged for the knife you broke free of the blonde agent’s hand and whipped it across the room. It plunged straight into the man’s jugular and he fell backwards, hands sliding out from around Bucky’s neck as blood coated the tile floors.

“Shit,” you panted, hands on your knees. “You okay?”

Bucky didn’t respond.

Slowly, heart pounding in your chest, you glanced up to find him pulling a syringe from his neck. He stared at it for a second, stunned as a few stray droplets dripped from the edge of the needle before he dropped it to the ground, letting it slip out from his fingers limply. The vile was empty as it rolled along the tile and settled against the dead body of its owner.

“Bucky?”

There was a sudden, paralyzing dread that swept over his features, one that seemed to worsen as his eyes fell upon yours. Then, his knees started to buckle, his stance falling unsteady and you rushed forward, darting under his arm to catch him before could lay amongst the bodies of Hydra agents. He was shaking, hands trembling, and you could feel the sharp rise and fall of his breath as you held him steady.

“We have to get you out of here,” you said, trying to push down the panic etching its way up your spine, but Bucky shook his head.

“No time.” It was all he could mutter out.

“Bucky, you've just been injected with God knows what and we need to get to you a medic or—”

“There,” he grunted, pointed to an open room at the end of the hallway. With a thick, metal door and dozen locks lining the outside, it was more of a cell than a room. You started to shake your head, but Bucky gripped tight to your arm. “Y/n, please.”

You watched him carefully, noticed how he couldn’t seem to meet your eye, how sweat was beading at his hairline more profusely than it was in the midst of a battle, how his breaths were broken and trembling on every exhale.

“Okay, okay. Hold on.” You slowly guided him to step over the bodies at your feet, most unconscious, others not as lucky, and swiftly led him into the cell. It seemed to put him at ease as you aided him to sit on one of the metal chairs at the center of the room. As you released your touch from his arm, a rush of what appeared to be pain twisted into his facial features though he tried to hide it.

“So, what do we do now?” you asked. “I could try to find the lab. They could have counteractants to whatever this is. Or I could try to fix the coms... but we all know Parker’s a lot better with that stuff than I am.”

You laughed, trying to ease the tension in the room, but it was so thick you could have cut through it with the blunt edge of your baton. Bucky’s eyes were glued to the floor, his hands curling around the undersides of the chair until the metal warped under his grip.

“You need to leave.”

Your smile dropped. “What? No, are you crazy? I’m not leaving you alone after—”

“Go!” His voice boomed against the walls and you tried not to let the shock startle you.

“Bucky, stop. That’s not happening.” You dug your fingers into your hips as you paced back over the door, stole a quick glance in both directions. It was still empty save for the bodies lying in your wake. It seemed you and Bucky were entirely alone. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We’ll figure something out, okay? We always do. This can’t be worse than the time we were buried in that old chevy under twelve feet of snow in Alaska last year, can it?”

You shot him a grin, hoping to ease him, though it did little use. His face was red, jaw stoned. He looked like he was barely breathing.

“You’re not hearing me,” Bucky groaned, his voice molding into something darker. “You're not safe here. You need to leave. Now. Before I... Before I can’t control this. Before I hurt you.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What are you talking about? Do you… Do you know what that stuff was?”

Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away from you the best he could. He let out a pained groan and kicked the chair out from under him. It slammed against the wall with a harsh clash and forced a skip in your heartbeat, a hand darting up to your chest. Bucky leaned over the table, trying to find support, but he ended up gripping onto the sides hard enough to dent imprints in the shape of his hands.

You rushed forward, desperate to help because you couldn’t stand to see him in so much pain, and placed a hand on his shoulder. It touched upon the thick straps of Kevlar for only a second, and still, it was enough to elicit a visceral reaction. He whined, something between a moan and cry, and he slumped down out of your reach.

“Don’t touch me,” Bucky warned, though his voice broke in the effort. His breaths were labored and heavy, and still it seemed as though he could barely get one in. “Please. You—You have to get away from me. I’m— I’m begging you.”

Bucky choked back a cry, biting down hard on his lower lip, and it was then you noticed his right hand palming at the hardened outline nestled tight against his thigh. He pressed the heel of his left into his eyes, shame burning hot against his ears and cheeks and trailing down in red patches along his neck. He tried to hide behind his hair, hide from you, but it was enough; you recognized what this was.

It was a serum created by Hydra in the seventies, meant to create inhumans of their own design when the clinical measures were proving unsuccessful. It was created to induce a euphoric state, a primal need beyond personal control, to put its host through hell until Hydra had what it wanted: a viable chance at an inhuman child.

“Bucky,” you called gently, though all you earned was a whimpered grunt in response. Slowly, you crossed the plane of the room to him and laid a hand against his collar. His eyes fluttered shut in response, his whole body keenly alert to every touch.

“You should leave,” he warned again, his gaze slowly drawing up to meet your own; a glossy shine shielded over a stunning ocean blue. “Let me... let me take care of this on my own. I’ll be f-fine.”

“It’ll be agonizing,” you told him, having remembered the speech Tony gave a few months back after the team first encountered the serum in Peru. “It won’t kill you, but it will feel pretty damn close. Nothing you do on your own will relieve it. It doesn't work like that. You need someone to help you through this.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t-- I won’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to,” you replied gingerly, drawing your hand up along his arm, tracing over swells of muscle as watching the way a shiver followed so tenderly in your wave. You rested your hand along his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eyes. He was scorching hot. You smiled at him, something soft and gentle, something sad. “I’m offering, Bucky.”

“No,” he grunted out. “I—I can’t. I won’t.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall to the side. It was remarkable he was able to hold himself back this long, let alone decline an offer when presented to him. You’d heard the stories of men to devolved to a near primal state, who attempted to jump the first person they saw and fought their way to release. Bucky was determined to spare you, even as you offered, even knowing that turning you down would put him through a world of pain.

“Okay,” you conceded. “Tell me what you need. Tell me something I can do, Buck, because I can’t just watch you in pain like this.”

Bucky stared at you, pupils blown wide, almost as if he could see right through you.

“Need to get this off,” he finally admitted, eyes drifting down to his suit.

“Okay,” you replied steadily. “Do you want help?”

He shook his head, his stare glued to the floor, but you could see the way his hands were reaching out for you, how he had to keep himself in check and hold them firmly at his sides. He tried to unfasten the buckle at his chest himself, but within seconds he let out a hallowed cry, dropping his head in defeat.

“Hurts,” he exhaled, and slowly his eyes came back up to yours. He forced out a halfhearted smile the best he could. “Can you...?”

You returned the nervous smile, as you took a cautious step forward. He followed your every move as your hands extended towards his chest, fingers clipping the buckles easily as they unsnapped down his jacket. Each one left a new breath of relief in its wake, like he was just on the edge of the surface, under only a few inches of water.

Your hands slid under the seams, helping to slip the sleeve down his right arm, and Bucky choked back a moan. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parted just slightly, and you jumped back.

“Sorry,” he muttered. His cheeks were near on fire.

“It’s alright, Buck. It’s not your fault.” You reached out for him again. “Here, let me help with your belt.”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” His hands were shaking as he started to fidget with the buckle. He swayed on his feet, trying to find some relief. As he unfastened the latch and unbuttoned the hem of his pants, his eyes flashed up to you. He exhaled a heavy breath. “Can you... Christ... can you turn around?”

The look on his face, the shame radiating from every ounce of him, shattered you right to your core. You nodded quickly, turning your back to him and making your way to the door. He needed privacy – of course, he did. He didn’t need you around to bear witness to the consequences of Hydra’s newest attempt to leave him powerless and vulnerable.

But just as you approached the door, Bucky called out quietly, “don’t go.”

You stilled in an instant, though you didn’t dare to turn around.

“It, um,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I think it helps if you’re here. If that’s alright.”

“Need something to look at, huh?” you laughed, trying to make light of the impossible position he was in, and you were thankful for the short chuckle you heard behind you.

“Don’t flatter yourself, doll. You’re the only one here,” he replied, a teasing back in his tone, and no matter how tense it was or how forced it felt, it made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled, shaking your head. Leave it to the two of you to find the humor in a situation like this. Biting down on your lip, you tried to suppress the grin, though it did little use.

Then, you heard the soft fall of his shirt to the floor. Quickly followed by the pants of his suit, dropping to the ground in a heap. He exhaled a breath that sounded as though he hadn’t done so in years and you found yourself wondering what he looked like standing there behind you, naked and aching, harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“Swear you won’t tell Sam about this.”

You shook your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek to hold back another laugh. “No promises.”

“Y/n.”

“You’ve got to be in crippling pain, Buck. You don’t have time to be embarrassed right now,” you shot back teasingly. “Stop edging.”

“Fine, okay,” he grumbled back, though you could hear the light in his voice, even if it was a little tense. “Just… give me a second.”

The room became impossibly quiet, painfully so, and you waited under bated breath for something to happen. The smile slowly left your lips, fading into a restless frown as you listened intently to his labored breathing, the tight groans of pain, until finally, his hand circled around the base of his cock.

The whine that left his lips was near sinful, and you felt your own breath hitch in your chest as you listened to soft whimpers parting his lips as he stroked himself, covering his length in the precum dropping at his tip. Heavy breaths and wet pumps of his closed hand around his cock, and you clenched your thighs together, wondering how his eyes might travel over your frame.

But God – those sounds he made were beautiful. You could picture him tugging his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut, his shoulders slacking, knees falling a little weak the harder he gripped at himself. Little murmurs of ‘oh god,’ and ‘fuck yes,’ and ‘please’ as he fucked his fist.

You didn’t know how much time had passed by, but your lip was nearly chewed raw, nails indented into the palms of your hands. You could hear how close he was, how his movements picked up in pace, how his breaths labored, how his moans filled the room higher and higher until – it stopped.

Sudden and aching, he lost it before the fall and your heart broke as you heard him cry out in pain.

“Bucky?” you called softly, not daring to turn around to face him after he asked you not to. Your heart was pounding in your chest, hands clenched tight, and you swore your knees would buckle out from under you if you unlocked them for even a second.

“Fuck, I… I can’t...”

“Bucky, are you okay?” you tried again, worried. There was a panic in his voice that wasn’t there before, a desperate longing etched into every syllable, and it scared you.

“I can smell you,” he said simply, achingly.

Your breath hitched and you squeezed your legs together. There was a throbbing there, an emptiness you couldn’t quite shake. “Do you... Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he replied quickly and you could tell he was contemplating his options. He was growing desperate and that lingering sense of control he maintained was slipping through his fingers. “No, I— You were right. I can’t do it on my own. I need—fuck. I need…”

“Just ask,” you offered again, head tilting just enough to the side that he could see your face but you kept your stare to the wall. “I’m here. I’m saying yes. Just tell me what you need.”

“You.”

It surprised you as he said it; a little lower, a little darker, but certain.

Slowly, you turned to face him.

Sculpted by Michelangelo himself, Bucky carried the most beautiful lines across his body; divots along muscles and carvings of delicate design. You could tell he expected your eyes to fall straight to his shoulder, to the mess of scars and metal he loathed, or to the vulnerability standing hard in his grasp, but instead, you kept your gaze focused on his eyes.

Bucky stood completely naked before you, his right hand still pumping slowly around his cock as you edged forward. He watched you, biting at his lip as he flicked his thumb over his tip. Eyes trailed down over your frame greedily, hungrily, as if the act of simply looking was enough to draw a twitch from his cock. He tugged his lip between his teeth, tightening his grip around himself.

As you came up beside him, you reached up and sat your hand against his right shoulder, watching how he closed his eyes in response, how his jaw slacked. His lazy thrusts evened out, slowing down, as you traced your hand down his arm, simply lost in your touch. Your hand slid down his bicep, over raised muscle, along his forearm to his wrist, and then, you gently nudged his hand from his cock and replaced it with your own.

His lips fell open, a slight tremble in his breath as you gripped him. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, leaning against you as he caged you to what appeared to be an interrogation table. You felt the warped metal against your thighs from where he’d clutched at it just moments earlier.

Steadily, you began to pump him in your hand, careful to spread the wet of his precum down his shaft. He was hard within your grasp, painfully so, enough that you could feel the crystal outline of a vein running up along the underside. You pressed your thumb against it as you slid your hand up to his tip and brushed it over his slit. The whine he released against your neck was the most beautiful sound you ever heard.

“This okay?”

“S’good.” He nodded meekly against your collar but you could feel the strain in his shoulders, the restraint that left his jaw wired shut and breaths tight.

“It’s not enough, though. Is it?” you asked gently, though you knew the answer. You knew what he needed and your hand, or even your mouth, would not be enough. The Hydra scientists knew what they were doing when they designed this. It had a very specific purpose and it would not yield for anything less.

“You don’t have to, Y/n,” he said, stronger than you’d heard his voice since he was injected. It took nearly all his strength.

You smiled, letting your free hand cup at the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, seeking more, almost instinctively. Bucky was a complicated man; capable of light-hearted jokes in the middle of a warzone and an immeasurable guilt and shame that had not left him in his years since he was freed from Hydra. He was your closest friend, your partner in the field, a man that you trusted above all others, a man you cared for in ways he would never quite understand.

“I’m here, Bucky. I’ve got you,” you whispered sweetly, but you could still feel his hesitance. “Listen to me, I’ll leave if you really want me to. I’ll stop if this isn’t what you want. But please, don’t send me away and leave you suffer through this alone because you think I don’t want you. I do, Buck. I want you. I want to make you feel good. I want to take away your pain. Let me.”

He stared at you for a moment, a strange mixture of disbelief and longing upon his features. Slowly his hands lifted from the table and felt for the clasp at the back of your suit. You nodded at him, and slid the zipper down your spine, exposing perfect, untouched skin. He pealed it down along your shoulders, over your chest and down your waist. You helped him remove it down to your feet and kicked it off to the floor beside his own.

His eyes drifted to your chest, hands itching to reach out, but he held them firm at his sides.

“It’s okay, Buck. You can touch me,” you told him, reaching behind your back and releasing the clasp of your bra. The straps fell down your shoulders and you let the fabric slip from you. Bucky swallowed, his eyes drifting to your exposed chest. A smile started to curve upon your lips the longer he stared at you, like you were something to revere.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself, as if saying it purely for the state of fact.

Your heart skipped a beat, lips parting in a slight shock, and you wondered if this was what it was like for the women he brought home on cold, lonely nights from the bar. You’d seen the content smiles on their faces in the morning as they sauntered out of his room with messy hair and a blissful kind of look in their eyes.

Bucky wasn’t the cold, calculating man the papers made him out to be. He was kind, exceptionally sweet, and a selfless to a fault. You didn’t suspect he was any different in a bedroom.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I never thought this would be how—"

But then— his face started to contort and suddenly Bucky was keening over. He clutched at his stomach, digging his nails deep into the muscle and he nearly collapsed to his knees.

“Bucky!”

You grabbed a firm hold of his right arm, just enough to keep him steady, and even the smallest of touches alone seemed to ignite something in him. Goosebumps littered his skin and a sweet kind of whine escaped past his lips as you ran a hand soothingly along his spine.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time,” you warned gently. It was a miracle within itself he was still on his feet. This serum had put ordinary men into shock within minutes if they didn’t find release. Never enough to kill them, but just enough to make them wish it would.

Bucky followed you back to the table at the center of the room, his hand clasped tightly in your own. It was the most physical affection you’d shown for one another, a tenderness outside of the rush of foreign chemicals in his veins, and you tried not to think about the fallout you were bound to find after.

He helped to guide you onto the table, resting your back against the cool, metal surface. Then, slowly, he crawled on top of you. His eyes drifted down to your panties and you lifted your hips for him, giving him the permission he needed to pull them down your legs.

His hand slid down along your curves, drawing goosebumps in his wake, until he swiftly slid his fingers between your thighs. Dipping into the wetness at your core, he spread his fingers around, lubricating himself until he slid two easily inside of you.

“Oh, Bucky,” you moaned, back arching as he pumped them against your walls. “God, that feels—so good.”

His left hand was curled tightly into a fist near you head as he propped his body weight up against the arm; gears whirring, the scars at the base of his shoulder red in the strain of it. One quick glance at the tension coating his muscles, the sharp breaths in his chest, the whine as his cock touched your thigh, and you were pulled swiftly from the clouds, a startling reminder why you were doing this in the first place.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you told him, a little breathless as he added the third finger. “I’m fine, Buck. You need to come. This isn’t about me.”

He shook his head, determined. “You’re not ready yet.”

You chuckled, a heat of embarrassment washing over you, even as he scissored his fingers, stretching your walls. You had to choke back a moan and the urge to clamp your thighs together around his wrist.

“I’m more than ready,” you said, voice a little higher, hands clenching at the sides of the table as you felt your walls tightening around his fingers. “Trust me, Buck. Just listening to you touch yourself was enough.”

You laughed again but the room was thick in tension, almost unbearably so. Bucky could hardly hear you. His hair had fallen down to shield his face, his gaze focused on where his fingers were lost to the most intimate parts of you; determined.

“It has to be good for you,” he muttered out slowly. You narrowed your eyes on him, growing worried as he seemed to retreat within himself. He was distant, his mind far away from his body. “It has to be good… it has to be good for you otherwise… otherwise I’m… I’m...”

He wouldn’t say it but you knew what he meant.

“Bucky, come back to me.” You reach up and grabbed a firm hold of his cheeks, thumbs at his jawline, and drew his attention to your eyes. It took him a moment to get there, but you found ocean blue again, even if it was clouded in dark, stormy skies. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about how I feel, alright? Just do what you need to, I’ll be fi—”

“I won’t use you like that!” Bucky snapped defiantly, startling you. “I don’t care that it feels like my skin is on fire and there’s knives carving through my body. I don’t care that I feel like I’m going to pass out and everything in me is fighting to force my way onto you and take what I want regardless of what it does to you! I don’t care! You’re my best friend and I… I…” He was panting, red in the face, and he couldn’t seem to find his words. He swallowed, though it looked as though it burned. “It has to be good for you, okay?”

You nodded, running your hands gently along his arms; his left, solid metal, unwavering, and his right trembled deep within the tissue – the gentle movements of his forearm pressed up against your stomach, his fingers searching out a pleasure he so desperately needed you to feel.

“I…” he started before he clenched his jaw. A heavy exhale followed, a drop of his gaze, and he muttered out weakly, “I need to pretend this is real.”

Your lips parted in shock; heart stammering so painful in your chest you wondered if he could hear it. Before you could say anything, before you could ask him what he meant by that, Bucky let his fingers slip out from between your legs, resting slicked against your thigh. The emptiness was startling.

“I think you’re ready for me now.”

Bucky nestled himself between your legs, lined his length your entrance with a gentle sweep of his top through your folds. He shivered, something near violent as it shook through his spine, and you were reminded again that Bucky was suffering, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins that ripped away his control and left him powerless to Hydra.

His skin was flushed red, sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck. There were sharp marks in the palm of his right hand where he dug his own nails into his skin. His breaths were coming in quickly and uneven.

“Look at me,” you ordered, stern enough to draw his attention. “Don’t hold back. You need to get this out, okay? I will tell you if it’s too much.”

It took him a moment, a breath of contemplation, before he nodded; slow and hesitant. You could see the strain in his jawline, the tension in his shoulders from how much he was restraining himself. It must have been agonizing, but Bucky had been through worse in his life. You supposed pain had become a familiar friend, one he learned to tame and control, even when it ripped him apart.

The moment he pressed his tip past your entrance, as he bottomed out in one thrust, as he felt your walls squeeze tightly around him for the first time, Bucky nearly came on the spot. He gasped into your shoulder, sucking marks against your skin as he rolled his hips against you. Slow and steady at first, reveling in the feel of being consumed whole, of being taken so well, of a rush of endorphins and pleasure he’d never felt even in the peak of sex. Everything was heightened, every touch was immaculate; he could feel your heartbeat through the walls squeezing at his cock.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he moaned against your ear, breath hot, voice dangerously low. “Fuck you feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good. Goddamn perfect.”

You nodded, arms circling up around his shoulders as you rolled your hips to meet his own. You could still feel the stone carved tension in his muscle, how much he was holding back from what he needed. He was trying to be gentle with you, loving in a way the serum was not designed for, but it was testing him. He wouldn’t give into it, not in the way you asked him to, because Bucky had already lost so much to Hydra, already lost pieces of his mind and body, he would not let them take his soul, too.

“Just for you.” The words passed through your lips before you could quite catch onto their meaning. Your hands slipped down his chest as you brushed your thumbs against his nipples. He moaned, hips picking up in pace. He needed the encouragement, you realized. It was the only way he’d allow himself the release he needed to free his body of that serum.

He needed to pretend it was real.

He needed to pretend that you weren’t laying upon a cold, unforgiving table in an old Hydra base, that maybe this was something more than the consequences of a vile he didn’t ask for.

The line between the fantasy and reality was painfully thin.

“F-fuck, you’re so tight,” he mumbled breathily. The table began to squeak with every snap of his hips, with every drag of his cock at your core, the brush of his tip to the sweetest spot. It was easy to lose yourself in him, to forget that you were in an abandoned Hydra cell, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins determined to destroy him. He felt like heaven.

“S’all yours,” you whispered, drawing your hands down along his waist, slipping over his hips and gripping into the soft flesh of his ass. You pulled him deeper into you, daring him to go further. His pupils were blown so wide, you could barely see the blue in his eyes. He was slipping, barely holding into the restraint he so desperately clung to, and you rolled your hips at just the right angle, squeezed him enough to draw a mangled cry from his lips.

You kissed at the dip of his collar, sucking sweetly as he all but purred in response. Your lips mapped a path up his neck, along his jaw line, over cheekbones and at the tip of his nose, until you paused at his mouth. His heart was pounding, thunderous in his chest, and his hips seemed to pick up in pace with every kiss.

It wasn’t until you captured his lips against your own that Bucky lost the last ounce of control he had been clinging onto.

Something like a growl purred against your lips, a sound near feral, and the gentle push of his hips like ocean waves against you turned into quick, harsh snaps. He pulled his lips from you, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, until he found the place he was looking for and sunk his teeth to the crook of your shoulder.

“Ah, Bucky!”

All consuming. Feverish. A man untamed and he did not relent, not as your walls tightened around him like the twist of a coil, or as the sound of skin and wetness between your legs echoed high into the room, or when his fingers touched at your clit and rubbed harsh, quick and pressured circles until you were crying out so loudly, it must have carried through the whole base.

“Fuck! Ah, God, Bucky, don’t stop!”

Bucky groaned against you, sucking a mark where his teeth had met your flesh. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, the pulse of his cock in your cunt, the thick vein that ran along his underside as it added so sweetly to the pressure at your entrance. It was wild and unhinged, but God – it was good.

“Y-yeah, baby, right there,” Bucky moaned, his thrusts falling uneven, haphazard, needy. “F-fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—ah, ah, f-fuck—”

The heat of him, the way he filled you so perfectly, the rush, and it pushed you over the edge. White hot and intoxicating, the wash of it broke open in floodgates and swept through you. His fingers did not let up on your clit as you squirmed and withered below him, his thrusts falling lazy as he chased the end of his release.

Breathless and a little dizzy as you came down from your high, you felt his heartbeat inside of you; quick, but even. The serum had done its work. It released him from its hold.

Bucky was panting, the full of his weight having fallen onto you. His hair was wet with sweat, messy and untamed, and the room smelled distinctly of sex. But more than that, it was unbearably silent.

Slowly, Bucky began to pry himself off of you, allowing his softened cock to slip from between your legs, slick and satisfied. He swallowed, a blush creeping onto his cheek as he pushed his hair behind his ear.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You chuckled, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him quickly tug his pants back on before he bent down and picked up your suit for you, handing it gingerly to you upon the table with a shy sort of smile.

“Alright? I’m great.” You grinned over at him, glowing in the aftermath of your release. “You feel okay now?”

He nodded, a nervous smile tugging on his lips as he watched you jump down from the table and step into your suit. His eyes must have lingered on your thighs where his cum was still slick along the skin from his release because his smile began to fall, his jaw tightly clenched.

“SHEILD has me on birth control, Buck. Don’t worry about that,” you told him softly. You tugged the sleeves back up your arms, though it proved difficult with the lingering sweat on your skin. You flipped your hair over your shoulder and turned your back to him. “Do you mind?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling forward to zip up the back of your suit. He brushed a few stray strands of hair over your shoulder, the gentle sweep of cool metal a relief against the hot flush of your skin; impossibly tender for a man capable of the things he was.

“So,” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice as he grasped hold of the zipper, “should we talk about this or—”

“Bucky? Y/n? You guys read me?”

Steve.

“Seems the coms are back on,” you sighed, stepping to the side after Bucky finished zipping your suit. He was still holding his tactical vest in his hand, along with the one-armed jacket. His hair was untamed, cheeks flushed, and you imagined you looked of the same.

“We got you, Steve,” Bucky replied, though it seemed rather reluctant. “Where you been, man? You dropped us in a warzone.”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Steve grumbled back. “Get to the jet. We’ll debrief on the way back. Don’t forget to rig the place to blow on your way out.”

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, grinning at Bucky as he slipped his jacket on. “Certainly, can’t forget the one thing you sent us here to do.”

“Unless you’ve got more Hydra agents hiding in the wings?” Bucky added on and you could practically see Steve deadpan from the cockpit.

“Just get out of there before I come get you myself.”

You laughed as you slid the batons back into the holsters at your shoulder blades.

It was strange, how quickly it felt as if nothing had changed at all. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it was a quick release and you were simply helping a friend. Maybe it was something neither of you would speak of again and you’d go right back to being partners, friends, as if it never happened.

But as you turned around at the edge of the room, a smile wide upon your face, you found Bucky watching you with a kind of look in his eye you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t one you recognized, wasn’t one you’d seen in him before. It was something new.

His eyes flickered to your collarbone where a mark upon your skin was growing discolored; bite marks and bruising where his mouth had been. A strange mixture of remorse and longing, affection and need, all rolled into one.

“You ready, Buck?”

He nodded quickly, snapping himself from his gaze with a pressed smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he tried. He met you at the edge of the room, trailing a few steps behind you, and you turned around to find him staring back into the cell, like he was trying to preserve a memory of some kind.

You realized as you watched Bucky clear his throat awkwardly, turning back to you with a gentle blush of pink in his cheeks, that there was no pretending you hadn’t crossed a line together. There was no going back.

---

part 2

Listen, i don't have a knife kink

...

...

...

...

BUT☝🏼

I mean...

im seeing something i like

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Little bit o' smut, needy, whiny Bucky

A/N: Just a little something until I get back to my laptop. No minors.

“I have to go,” you say, gently shaking off the vibranium hand around your ankle. Laughter bubbling up when he only groans in response.

Bending over you grab your shirt from under the kitchen chair, you start to pull it on, then a dull thud has you turning your head, “Did you-did you just kick the floor?”

Bucky glares up at you with baleful eyes. “Maybe.”

Clutching the wrinkled shirt to your bare chest, you roll your eyes at the pouting super soldier. “Bucky, we spent all weekend together-“ You start, ignoring his loud huff. “-I promised my friends that I would go out for one drink and I....”

You swallow, your mouth going dry as you watch him pull his cock out of tight black briefs. “Bucky, stop it.” you finish weakly.

He tilts his chin up, his ocean blue eyes ensnaring yours and he moans your name, it’s sweet and sinful, as if he’s tasting it, tasting you with each slow swipe of tongue across his bottom lip. Then you remember he is and your knees nearly buckle as he wipes your slick from his chin and smears it over his cock.

He’s so filthy.

Bucky twists his hand around his shaft, precum dripping down from the red, swollen tip.

And he moans your name again.

Louder, vulgar sounds emitting from his chest, his hips rutting into his palm. Thick, long fingers laced around his throbbing cock. “You’re really gonna leave me, Plum.”

You want to tear your eyes away but you can’t. Not with his back arching off the ground, soft grunts mingled with your name filling the early morning air. You bite back a needy gasp when he lets his cock go, fisting his hands at his sides. “I can’t finish,” he gazes up at you, a deep wrinkle forming between his furrowed brows.

Bucky reaches out for you. “My hand isn’t as good as your pussy.” Oh fuck, the way he says that has you trembling. “I need you Plum, need your tight wet warm pussy around my cock.” He doesn’t play fair at all, you’re practically preening at his praise. “You feel so good, doll, so fucking good, please don’t leave me.”

Bucky stretches his legs out, patting his thighs. “Why don’t you let me show you how fucking good you feel Plum?”

You don’t realize you were walking back to him, drawn back into his orbit with each filthy word until he sat up, hands smoothing up your thighs, his breath washing over your glistening cunt before he tugs you down over him.

“Oh Buc-,” you cry out as he pushes you down, down “just a little more plum there you go, until his thick throbbing cock is buried in you, the first stretch knocking your breath out of your chest until you’re panting.

Bucky wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into his warm chest. “Now I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll never think about leaving me again.”

and I-

never again

pairing: bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

summary: natasha likes to touch bucky's dog tags and bucky, well, he just wants to know why his favorite girl isn't talking to him.

They aren’t talking.

Bucky’s not sure why though because you guys were good. Great even. Always talking, laughing, and touching. A few things Bucky thought he wouldn’t be good at anymore, scared of more like, but he was good at it with you.

So why were you so distant? It wasn’t like you to shut him out.

“Did you drink all the coffee again, Barton? Have a death wish or something?” Tony commented.

Bucky ignored him — him and the team as they bickered over breakfast as usual. Instead, he sat on the couch, waited for you to come out and have breakfast with him.

Natasha came over and sat beside him. They made small talk until you emerged from your room.

Your hair was still messy, smile still soft, and you were drowning in clothes. Bucky’s heart skipped a few beats. He might of looked too excited to see you or had some look on his face because you ignored him and took a seat at the table instead.

“Wanna sit on my lap, Y/N? I know you must be tired of Barnes over there,” Sam flirted.

You laughed, shaking your head. Bucky wanted to punch the wall because sitting on his lap was your thing. Your morning, having breakfast, and sitting on his lap thing. His favorite part of the day thing.

It didn’t help that later that day when he walked into the training room, you walked out.

You took one glance at him and walked out.

Bucky was getting frustrated.

And it didn’t seem to stop. When the team came together for their usual hike, you took a spot next to Sam and walked next to him until you reached the top. Bucky stayed close behind and clenched his fists when Sam made a stupid joke to make you laugh.

Bucky was getting really, really frustrated.

He thought maybe when he leaned down to tie your shoelaces that some of the tension would go away, that he would feel better.

“Bucky...”

“Got it, sweetheart. Lift your foot up for me.”

You did.

“I can tie it myself; you know?”

He didn’t say anything.

“James.”

“Y/N,” he mocked.

You rolled your eyes.

“Keep your hand on my shoulder or you’ll fall.”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N,” he sternly said. “I know you’re mad at me, but you can’t walk around like this. Just hold on to me.”

“You’re taking a long time and I can heal if…,” you mumbled. “and I’m not mad at you.”

“Really?”

You glared at him, “I’m not, Buck.”

Bucky sighed. “Seems like you are, and I know you are because I know you. Came to your room last night and it was locked. F.R.I.D.A.Y said you didn’t want to see anyone.”

“Had a nightmare?”

“Couldn’t sleep without you.”

You almost responded, almost, but Natasha came, and you didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t in fact, so you pulled away and walked away.

Bucky thinks he’s finally figured it out.

It was movie night the next time Bucky saw you and he’s wondered if you’ve asked F.R.I.D.A.Y for new routes so you could avoid him. Bucky was slowly losing his mind and he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t, so when you walked out of the room and headed to kitchen, he decided to follow.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m getting popcorn.”

“Y/N,” Bucky breathed out. “I’m being serious.”

“Bucky, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well, I want to talk about— where are you going? Can you just stop — “

Bucky lifted you up and placed you on the kitchen counter. Placed himself right between your legs so you couldn’t move.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he placed his forehead on yours. “We haven’t talked in weeks. Did I do something wrong? Is it Natasha?”

“No. No, why would you think that?”

Bucky stared at you. God, he’s missed you — your eyes, your hands and your touch. Why wouldn’t you touch him? You always did and now…now it had been so long since he felt it, you, and he missed it. He missed how good it felt, how you felt against him.

You started playing with his dog tags.

Bucky swears his heart stops beating for a second. Swears he’s stopped breathing too because you weren’t touching him, no, but you were touching a part of him that meant a whole deal to him.

“Y/N, I — "

“Buck, you’re missing the movie. Steve’s about to have a oh— "Natasha interrupted.

You released your hand from the chain, “We should go.”

“Y/N.”

“Bucky, we need to go. Please let me go.”

He did.

He hated that he did, and he thought about it for the next week, till he was on his next mission. Maybe that’s why he was so distant with the team, why he didn’t pay attention to the briefing and Steve’s speech. He didn’t care, he didn’t.

It showed on the field.

Steve was mad.

“Why did Steve just tell me that you didn’t listen to the plan? That you ran into open fire? Let some guy punch you?”

Bucky didn’t respond to you. Just took a spot on the empty clinic chair.

“Is that what we’re doing now, Buck? Letting people punch us?”

Us.

Bucky shut his eyes and opened them back up to look at you. My God, you looked so angry. His girl was so angry at him.

Us.

Your hands were on his wounds in seconds and in seconds, Bucky was healed and, in more places, than just the parts that were beaten or bruised. You always reached more places than anyone else could, healed more parts of him than anyone else could.

“Are you going to talk to me?” You muttered, pressing your hand against his chest. “Buck?”

You slowly removed your hand, but Bucky grabbed it and placed right back on his chest.

“Just keep touching me, Y/N.”

You paused. Bucky watched as you got more red.

“Keep touching you? I thought you never wanted me to use my powers on you, thought the serum could heal it all. Are you even going to tell me what happened?" your voice was strong. "Did you really let this guy punch you? Beat you purple? Are you kidding, James? How could you let him?”

“How could you not talk to me?”

That shut you up. Bucky didn’t know if you understood what he was trying to say, hoped that you did because he really didn’t want to explain it — didn’t want to explain that he let himself get punched and beaten to have your hands on him.

“Never again, Buck. Never let anyone hurt you like this again.”

“Never not talk to me,” he admitted and pulled you onto his lap. His hands stayed on your hips, while your legs dangled off his lap.

You continued to place your hands on his wounded parts.

“She’s always near you.”

“Natasha?”

“Yeah…yeah and she’s always touching you,” you placed your hands on his dog tags. “Touching these and I know — I know how much they mean to you. How important they are, and you’ve never let anyone but....but”

“But you,” he finished, moving some strands of your hair away from your face. “Never let anyone but you touch them.”

“She has.”

“Never noticed. Too busy focusing on you.”

You shook your head.

“Sweetheart…”

Then you heard footsteps and out of corner of your eye, you saw that bright red hair and black bodysuit approach you and you almost got up — almost, but Bucky held your hips. Kept you in place and you heard him tell Natasha that he was busy, that he was doing something important.

You heard her walk out.

Then you wanted to say something, anything. Anything to get out of this situation, anything to fix all those red and purple spots on his body. Just anything, but you couldn’t. Walking away would’ve been so much easier.

“She’s nothing compared to you, sweetheart,” he confessed. “Nothing, okay? You’re everything.”

“Yeah, but — “

Then Bucky slipped off his dog tags and placed them around your neck.

“Everything,” he repeated.

You’re sure your world stopped. He was so good at making you speechless, always had been. Sometimes you wondered if he was made just to make you speechless. His lip was still a little busted and you reached up and ran your thumb across it, healed it in seconds.

“Promise you won’t do this again?”

“Promise you’ll talk to me?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at him, ran your hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you.”

No, he was made to be loved by you.

Play Pretend (II)

summary: In the aftermath of Munich, Bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. But now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: smut (18+), mutual pining idiots a/n: here is the final part! make sure you catch up at part 1 first! gif by @crispychrissy

Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head for days after the mission in Munich. Pictures of you laying so beautifully beneath him, the slight curve of your lips as a moan slipped past, skin so soft it begged to be touched and soothed and worshiped. He couldn’t let go of how you sounded, how you cried out his name or the gentle whimpers spoken so sweetly against his ear. He couldn’t stop craving you wrapped so tightly around him, your hands caressing down his arms, his back, his shoulders, your unbridged desire to touch every part of him, even the parts he despised.

Memories that found him in his sleep in the early hours of the morning, in the shower when his legs were weak and tired, at the breakfast table when you strolled in wearing a t-shirt down to your thighs and the evident curve of your breasts bare beneath the fabric.

Bucky tried to push the thoughts away. He tried to stop thinking of what happened in that cold, abandoned Hydra base. He tried to bury that longing somewhere deep, somewhere he’d never be bothered by it again. But it always came back in the image of you in that cell.

It plagued him. It taunted him.

He wanted more.

He didn’t know how to admit it. Not to himself, and certainly not to you. So, he did his best to suffocate those feelings, those cravings for something real, but they still found their way to the surface.

They spilled over on movie nights with the team and Bucky would find himself inching closer to you, in the gym when he took just a second longer to lift his weight from your body after a winded match that ended on the surface of the mat, on walks around the compound when he found himself wanting to capture your hand in his own as your fingers brushed by.

Those feelings slipped from his smothering hold on missions when he watched your back far more than his own, when he’d missed an obvious target in an attempt to clear your enemy line and ended up catching three bullets himself. He lost composure whenever you didn’t respond on coms or when you’d stumble back onto the quinjet with an injury you’d been hiding. He dove headfirst into fires and threw his body up as a shield and spent every night in agony wondering if you knew that he’d give his whole life to you if you’d asked.

It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It might actually get him killed.

But it hadn’t started in Munich. No, that was just the catalyst of it all. Bucky had loved you long before that drug infiltrated his system and left the two of you in an impossible position. He’d managed to keep his feelings at bay for years; hiding behind quick witted jokes and friendly banter and a genuine friendship and it had been enough. Honest, it had.

Only, now he knew what it was like to be with you. He caught a taste of what it would be like to make love to you and he didn’t know if he could ever forget and move on. It had been weeks since Munich and it still felt like it happened yesterday.

He had to do something to keep it from consuming him, even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke his, too.

***

“What the hell do you mean you can’t work with Y/n anymore?”

Steve groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day of debriefing with about a dozen agents making demands he was unwilling to compromise on. This, separating his best team, was among them.

“It’s just not a good idea, Steve,” Bucky said, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched Steve pace relentlessly down the conference room.

“That’s ridiculous, Buck.” Steve slumped into the chair beside his friend. “You two are the best insurgent team I have.”

“Just trust me. You’ve seen how I’ve been in the field lately. I can’t keep a straight head around her, okay? Not after—” Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away.

Steve sighed, hanging his head. “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Munich?”

Bucky’s lip was chewed raw; scars over broken wounds, teeth digging into painful cracks. It was a nasty habit he picked up after Munich. He wasn’t used to this kind of nervousness; a deep and unsettling feeling churned to stone in the pit of his stomach.

“Reassign me, Steve,” Bucky asked again, firmer. He could feel Steve’s eyes burning on him, tracing every inch of his face, searching for a tell, but he wouldn’t find one. Bucky was trained better than that. He knew to keep his features cold, stoned, even if his heart was pounding against his chest. He wondered it Steve could hear it, too.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Alright,” Steve finally conceded. He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief, the weight of months filled with a longing he couldn’t tame and painful twist in his heart slipping from him in seconds. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Steve stood up from his chair, gathered the papers from the desk and made his way to the door. He paused just at the frame, turned around slowly to find Bucky had relaxed a little too much for his liking and added, “you’re going to be the one to tell her.”

“What?” Bucky scrambled out of his chair, nearly losing his footing and all composure as he stood to face Steve.

“You’ve been partners for years,” Steve shot back tensely. “She’s had your back on countless missions, saved your life on more than one occasion, and—come on, Buck— you guys are friends! The two of you spend every day together, even when you’re benched! You don’t want to give me an explanation? Fine. But you sure as hell owe her one.”

Bucky shook his head rapidly, hands clenching at the fraying edges of his t-shirt. “Steve, I—”

“Just talk to her,” Steve said, a heavy disappointment lingering in his voice. His lips parted, as if there were more he wanted to say, but decided against it. He hung his head, pat Bucky firmly on his shoulder, and left.

***

Had he always been able to hear his own heartbeat like this?

It was pounding in his ears, thunderous, deafening, and he swore just about everyone else on the floor could its thumping as he approached your room.

The door was open ajar with a small glimmer of sunlight streaming out into the dimly lit hallway. You were singly quietly to yourself – humming, maybe – as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring down onto your phone. You didn’t seem to notice him at the door. He knocked.

Your head popped up, surprised at the sudden intrusion and your eyes only narrowed upon finding it was Bucky standing below the doorframe. You looked at him for a moment before you turned back to your phone without saying another word.

He deserved that.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He was still staring into the room through the small slit in the door.

You shrugged. “Depends. Are you still avoiding me?”

A sharp sting burned in his chest as Bucky tried to unclench his jaw. Truthfully, he had been avoiding you for days now. Ever since he made up his mind to ask for a reassignment. It didn’t matter if Steve shipped him off to Alaska or the Amazons or out into space with the goddamn raccoon; all he knew was that every minute he spent beside you was agony and he needed to get away from it – away from you – before it consumed him whole.

None of that was your fault. You didn’t know why he was suddenly too busy to spar on your usual weekdays or join the team for movie nights. He never told you why he suddenly started pulling away, cutting off all contact as if you hadn’t been friends for years before Munich.

“I’ve got something important to talk to you about,” Bucky replied, clearing his throat.

You sat up, sitting the phone down by your side as you recognized the tone in his voice. Clinical. Mission oriented. Business. He didn’t want it to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t.

Bucky stepped into the room, prying the door open gently with a slow squeak on its hinges as he closed it behind him. He’d been in your room dozens of times before, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep focus. He took a few steps forward and gingerly sat on the edge of your bed, keeping careful distance as he wrung at his hands in his lap.

“I’m being reassigned.”

You furrowed your brow. He could practically hear your heart skip a beat.

“What? No. They can’t do that!” You shook your head, determined. There were traces of disbelief on your face – anger, too. Your hands gripped tightly into the sheets at your sides. “They can’t just reassign you, Buck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Y/n, you don’t understand,” he started to say, but you were already on your feet, pacing around the room. It was how you calmed yourself when your thoughts were racing too fast. The stabbing pain in Bucky’s chest only seemed to dig deeper.

“I know the field has been messy lately, but that happens to everyone! They can’t split us up because of a few extra trips to the med bay,” you argued, wearing trenches into the carpet of your bedroom. You stopped abruptly. “Who gave the order? Steve? Tony? I’ll take this up with Fury if I have to, okay? I won’t let them—”

“Y/n, stop. Please.” Bucky hung his head. His right hand was red as his left clasped and tugged at the skin. He couldn’t find the courage to meet your eye but he could tell from the way you stilled that you knew what he was about to say. “It was me. I asked for reassignment.”

It didn’t seem to hurt any less though because your stance still faltered. It was barely noticeable, not to the human eye, but Bucky’s sensed were advanced thanks to his time in Hydra. He saw the way your body weight shifted just slightly, how your breath caught in your chest, the slight flicker of your eyes. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.

“You said it yourself,” Bucky reasoned, trying to find excuses where there were none, “there’s been too many ER trips lately. I keep getting hurt.”

“Because you insist on using your body as human shield, Buck!” you retorted, arms flung out to the sides. “Just knock that off and we’ll be fine!”

Bucky shook his head, his lips curling ever so slightly though it didn’t touch his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it is!” you argued. You started pacing again. “Don’t be an idiot, Barnes. I’m not losing my partner. Go tell them you were joking or concussed and not thinking straight!”

“I’m not going to do that.” Bucky clenched his jaw. His right hand was starting to lose feeling from how tightly he was gripping it.

Why couldn’t you make this easy on him? You were supposed to be angry with him for ignoring you for the last week. You were angry with him and yet you still fought for him. He couldn’t make sense of it.

The pacing stopped again, though this time it came in slow, like a realization that found its way piece by piece until it melded into a visible image.

“Was it something I did?”

Bucky jumped up to his feet, instinctively wanting to walk towards you but you held your ground. He froze, standing several feet away.

“No,” he said firmly. “God no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then what?” You raised your arms out to the side in question. “We’ve been partners for years, Bucky. I’ve relied on you all that time to have my back, to keep me alive out there, and—and—” you groaned rather loudly, “you’re my best friend! You can’t just up and decide you’re done with me and move on!”

Bucky frowned. “That’s not what this is.”

You shook your head, arms folding tightly over your chest protectively. “Sure feels like it.”

The silence between you was unbearable. Bucky didn’t have a good excuse. You were right to be angry with him. He was abandoning you. He was a coward. He was running away from a painful situation to avoid facing it head on because he was terrified to lose you. Though, as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, pulling them away a moment later to find a soft glisten of reflection in their wake, Bucky started to wonder that were already true.

“Oh God,” you exhaled, a heavy realization in your voice as you turned to him. Your shoulders slumped. “This is because of Munich, isn’t it?”

Bucky flinched. He tried not to, but you noticed. A look of absolute devastation crossed your features as your lips parted, sinking down onto your bed.

“I knew things were different after that mission. I mean, how could they not be?” You leaned over against your thighs, letting your hair fall down to shield your face where Bucky could not see. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given in. You couldn’t consent with that shit running through your veins. Not really. So— fuck – I completely understand if you can’t be around me after I—”

“That’s not what happened,” Bucky interjected sharply, shaking himself from the fear coursing through him as he crossed the room to you. He knelt down beside your bed and waited patiently for you to lift your head and let the curtain of hall fall away from your face. “I could have fought it. It hurt like hell, but I would have survived it even if we… if we hadn’t…”

He let his voice trail off, his cheeks turning a slight side of pink. He sighed. “The point... is that I wanted to. I really wanted to. And that’s the problem.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused.

Was he really going to tell you? Wasn’t this what he had been trying to avoid? Throwing away years of friendship to confess deeper feelings he was all but sure you’d never reciprocate?

But there was something about the way you were looking at him. With tears glistening in your eyes and a grief he couldn’t quite place nestled into the lines on your forehead, Bucky began to wonder if walking away would give him any relief at all. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave this room again if you were left blaming yourself for his crimes.

Bucky slowly placed his right hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb gently along the dimple. Your eyes followed his movements, watching curiously until he found the courage to speak.

“We’ve been partners for a while,” he started, clearing his voice when it came out shaken. You nodded. “I feel like sometimes I know what you’re thinking just by looking at you and when we’re out in the field, even in the middle of chaos, it’s like you can tell what I’m doing before I actually figure it out myself. We’re really good together. Out there. It’s hard to find that these days.”

You didn’t say anything and for that, he was grateful. He needed to get this out before he shut down completely.

“I think we only got that good because we’re… uhm… we’re close, you know?” Bucky took a deep breath, releasing his grip on your knee when he realized he’d started to squeeze it a little too hard. Your hand was sitting on your thigh, but you’d inched it closer to his, enough so the tips of your fingers overlapped onto his.

“We’re friends.” Bucky paused at the term, deciding it wasn’t strong enough. “It’s more than that though. I trust you with things I wouldn’t even tell Steve. You were the first person I felt like I could be myself around. Not the Bucky that Steve remembers or the one Hydra manipulated. This one. Whatever that means.”

Your whole hand covered his now, as much as it would allow. He glanced up to find your fingers curling under his, a slight squeeze to tell him you were still listening. He exhaled another breath and the pressure in his chest felt a little lighter.

“What happened in Munich didn’t awaken anything or… or open my eyes to something I didn’t know was there,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on your legs, unable to find the courage to face you. “I’ve known how I felt about you for a long time. I was okay with it. I learned to live with it and manage it because being your friend and being your partner was too important to lose. But…”

He felt your hands squeeze his again.

“But after Munich… I don’t know how to go back. I don’t think I can.” Bucky didn’t dare to meet your eye. He could feel the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to pull them back in. A waterfall of confessions he couldn’t hope to control. “It’s why I’ve been so reckless in the field, why I keep ending up in the med wing. I can’t shove it down anymore and it punctures me right through the goddamn heart when I see you surrounded by armed agents or when there’s a weapon aimed at you and my instinct is to run towards you. Screw what happens to me.

“I know you’re good at your job,” Bucky stressed, shaking his head. “I know you can handle yourself and you don’t need me to protect you but… but I want to. I want to keep you safe and hold your hand when you’re getting stitches and curl up beside you at night just so I can remind myself you’re real when the nightmares get the better of me. I want… I want more than I should.”

He could hear the skip in your heartbeat, how it gradually picked up in pace the longer he spoke. Your breathing was shorter, too. Shallower. Bucky was certain it was all confirmation of the story he’d been telling himself for years.

“This… How I feel… It’s not good for us. As friends. As partners. I’m trying to do us a favor and just remove myself from the equation.”

Bucky still had yet to meet your eye. He’d turned to examining every detail he could find on the fabric of your sleep shorts, in the sheets you sat upon, in the divots and dimples and blemishes on your thighs. He wasn’t sure he’d have the resolve to leave if he looked at your face.

Several beats of silence passed by and Bucky wondered how it was possible you hadn’t lashed out at him yet. He expected you to be angry for driving a wedge between you with something as reckless as love and affection. He expected you to turn your shoulder, reject him for everything he was, because it was one thing to befriend the Winter Soldier, another entirely to love him.

Bucky slowly rose back to his feet, letting his hand slip away from your knee and your gentle hold on him fell away. He mistook your silence for acceptance, maybe even agreement. He cleared his throat, starting to back up towards the door.

“So, um,” Bucky said nervously, trying to fill the silence in his escape, “that’s why. I hope you can forgive me some day for all of this. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

Bucky barely had his hand on the knob when he heard the soft squeak of your mattress springs as you rose to your feet.

“You’re wrong.”

The sound of your voice startled him, enough to get him to look back at you before he could stop himself. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes red with tears, bottom lip chewed raw.

“Y/n, I—”

“You’re wrong,” you said again, almost angry and somehow that was a relief. It would make it easier for him to leave if you were angry, but you had different plans. “You’re wrong if you think you’re doing me some kind of favor by leaving.”

Tears were on your cheeks now and Bucky’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was agony.

He took a step closer to you. “You have to trust me, it’s not a good idea for us to—”

“You’re wrong,” you continued, cutting him off again as you rubbed at the tears under your eyes. “You’re wrong to assume that I don’t feel the exact fucking way about you and—and if you leave, Bucky, I swear to God it will kill me.”

Bucky froze. His heart stopped beating completely, might have plunged down through his stomach, broken through the floorboards and buried itself into molten lava and dirt, because of all the things he was expecting you to say, that was not one of them.

“Don’t do this,” you implored, voice a little broken, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t go.”

Bucky was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this. He never even considered you might beg him to stay, that you might feel for him in the way he felt for you. It never once crossed his mind. It felt like a dream.

“I miss you.” Your voice was so small and still, it nearly tore him straight in half. “I miss how we used to be. I miss seeing you smile and your stupid jokes at the most inappropriate times in the field.” You laughed to yourself, under your breath, and even through the tears it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But you sighed, the smile falling away. “I miss you when you’re not here. All the time. So much it hurts. I feel like I’m going out of my mind when I’m not with you. You’re my best friend, but I… I also… I miss Munich.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and you only caught a glimpse of him for a second before your face was in your hands, trying to shield yourself from him.

“I know it’s wrong,” you murmured, muffled by your palms. “I know it’s not right to miss a moment when you were in pain and made to feel something you didn’t ask for, but… I think about it a lot and... how much I want more.”

Stunned silence. Throat dry. Heart pounding.

“What are you saying?” Bucky finally found the courage to ask.

You lifted your head, finally meeting his eye and there was a relief there as you looked up at him. Your shoulders eased. A soft smile returned to your lips and it nearly melted him completely.

“The same thing you are, I think.”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

Bucky watched, near frozen, as you crossed the room, bare feet padding softly over the carpet until you were only inches from him. The space between you closing as your hands slid up his arms, resting against his shoulders, cupping at the sides of his face, just observing, just feeling. There was no venom in his veins and yet, Bucky felt electrified under your touch. His heart stammered in his chest as your fingers wove at the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you told him and he wondered for a moment if he stopped breathing entirely. "No Hydra chemicals. No foreign influence. Just us, okay? You and me.”

Bucky nodded, a little stunned.

Slowly, you inched up closer to him, your eyes drawing closed until you were a breath from his lips. Just barely grazing upon his own, waiting, and Bucky let his hands slid up against your back, tugging you closed against him, and captured your lips in his own.

It was different than the first time in Munich, less rushed, less desperate, but instead filled with a longing that had spanned years between you, coated in affection and heartache and need for one another beyond anything a serum in a lab could fabricate.

Your hands wove into his hair, his arms pressing you firm against his chest, and it was like you were holding onto him for dear life. Your feet began to carry the two of you backwards, dragging Bucky towards the bed, and you yelped as your knees caught on the edge of the mattress, sending the two of you spiraling onto the bed.

“You alright?” Bucky laughed, brushing away the hair in your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows caged around your shoulders; most of his weight laying upon you in the sweetest comfort of pressure.

“I'm perfect,” you replied, bright smiles and joy radiating from every pore. It was contagious.

“We can stop here, if you want,” Bucky offered sincerely. He was riding a high he never thought he’d ever experience and anything you’d be willing to share with him was a gift within itself. He’d kiss you for hours if you’d let him.

“And if I don’t want to stop?” you questioned, staring up at him with a hunger in your eyes. Your fingers trailed down his t-shirt, dancing around the hem of the fabric at his hips. “If I wanted to keep going... If I wanted you...?”

“I’m yours, sweetheart.”

A simple answer. A true one. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Bucky knelt back, tugged on the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. You watching him as he tossed it to the corner of the room before he settled back down against you. Your hands ran along the lines of his muscles, over the scars and imperfections, and for once, Bucky didn’t shy away from the hands of a woman. It didn’t feel like a twist to his gut, he didn’t hold his breath. No – instead, it felt renewing, healing almost.

His hands slid under the waist of your shirt, inching it higher as he rand his touch along the curves of your sides, until you leaned up for him to help remove the fabric. It joined his shirt at the edge of the room.

Perfect and bare. Stunning in your nakedness. A privilege he never thought he’d be granted.

“You want to take a picture or...?” you teased him, noticing how long he’d been staring at you.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t temp me. Besides, I’m hoping I won’t need a picture to see you like this again.”

“Definitely not,” you confirmed, tugging him down to meet your lips again.

It was laced in smiled and laughter and ages of holding back from one another all rolled into one. A freedom of taking your time, of enjoying one another, and learning to memorize your bodies. Bucky would have wondered if he were dreaming if not for the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardening cock – no dream could produce a feeling like that.

With his lips on your neck, Bucky played with the hem of your shorts, waiting until you lifted your hips just enough to give him the access to slid them down your legs, removing the last remaining fabric along with it.

Bucky kissed his way down your body, mapping a trail from your neck, to the hills of your breasts, to your ribs, to the comfort of cushion at your stomach, to the crevices at your legs and inner thighs. He paused for a moment, setting his cheek against your thigh as he drew his fingers between your lips, separating them to give access to the sweetest parts of you.

You flinched a little as he touched your clit, a gasp emitting from your lips as your hands curled into the sheets. Bucky grinned, encouraged by your reaction as he began to circle the pads of his fingers at your entrance. Listening for the subtle changes in your breath, the moans the slipped past, and the curl of your fingers, Bucky leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit.

“F-fuck, Bucky,” you whined, hands snaking into his hair and gripping tight against his scalp.

He smiled at the feeling, at the way you cried his name, and he pressed his slicked fingers inside of you. Perhaps it was the haze of the foreign chemicals the last time he had you under him like this, but he didn’t remember you being so vocal, so sensitive to his touch. It was a rush and he had to keep himself from rutted up against the mattress as added a third finger, curling them just enough and massaging at the walls as they squeezed tight around him.

Tongue lapping at the wetness, sucking around the sensitive bud of nerves, fingers perfectly drawing out the high as it built at your core, it only took moments before you crashed. You cried out his name, legs wrestling against him in the sensitivity as he drew out the feeling as long as he could, moving slower and slower until you stilled under him.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, a laugh entranced in your voice.

Bucky grinned, pleased with himself as he crawled his way back up the bed to meet your lips. He didn’t bother to wipe the remnants of your high from his mouth and you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him, certainly tasting yourself upon his lips, and it only made him want you more.

“You’re turn,” you smirked, trying to slide out from under him as you licked your lips, but Bucky held you down.

“Next time, okay?” he countered and you sunk back into the mattress with a pout on your lips. “I don’t think I can last if you get your mouth on me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, running your fingers down his stomach until he began to shiver.

“Yes,” he chuckled, swatting your hands away playfully. He winked. “I’m gonna die if I don’t have you right now.”

“Jesus, Buck, don’t even joke,” you laughed, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, someone's gotta,” Bucky grinned as he tugged down his pants, kicking them off to land amongst the rest of the discarded clothing. “If it got me here, I’ll happily make light of a fucked up Hydra breeding experiment.”

“Would you have told me if it hadn’t happened?” you asked, voice a little softer, peering out from behind your hands.

Bucky stilled, his grin falling into something gentler and he shrugged. “Don’t know if I ever would have had the courage. I never thought we’d be here. Never could have imagined you’d feel the same way.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Would you have said anything?”

“I don’t think I really knew until you threatened to walk away,” you admitted.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, pressing a trail of kissed along your collarbone as he settled between your legs, his length pressing against your thigh, “good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not,” you murmured against his lips as you drew his mouth to yours.

Then, as he felt the hitch of your breath against his lips, he sank into you. Stretching walls and guiding your legs to wrap at his waist to offer an angle that left your jaw slacked. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted, and Bucky felt a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even through the smoke filled haze of that serum in Munich, he’d never felt an ounce of the relief as he did in this moment. To be completely and entirely yours.

He felt you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him to move, and slowly, he rocked his hips against you. Slow and steady. Needy. Until your nails dug into his spine and Bucky couldn’t prolong the tender build up any longer.

Chasing and chasing; higher and higher. Bucky could tell you were close from how tight your walls were clenched around him. It took near everything he had not to come on the spot, but he held on, waiting, watching as your lips parted, as the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard slipped past, and you cried out his name.

“Oh fuck—fuck—Bucky, don’t stop.” Your breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m so close. I’m—ah—”

A hitch in your breath and your whole body seemed to fall slack. It only spurred him on. Hips snapped, fingers rubbing quick circles at your clit, until you were whining and shaking under him, until he was satisfied with the blissful look on your face and he let himself go.

He spilled into you, rutting his hips in a few final, lazy thrusts as he sank into the crook of your neck, panting. Dizzy and content, riding a high that extended beyond his body, Bucky hummed into your collarbone as he felt your nails draw patterns along his back in gentle sweeps. It tingled on his skin, send shivers along his spine, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You paused, just for a moment, before you resumed tracing the lines on his back, over muscles and scars alike. “Yes, Bucky?”

He could hear the teasing in your voice, the light-hearted laugh, the warmth that made him fall in love with you and his heart clenched. He wrapped his arms under your shoulders, the full weight of his body still pressing you down to the mattress, still buried inside of you.

“Promise me this is real.” An embarrassment crept up as he said it, though the drawing on his back didn’t skip a beat. “You and me. I’m not dreaming or stuck in my head. This is real, right?”

Your hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, and then to the sides of his face as you guided him off your chest to meet your eye; more beautiful than he’d ever seen you, with a glimmer of sweat and an afterglow radiating in the smile lifting your cheeks.

“This is real, honey,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

“Okay. Okay, good.” Bucky grinned, cheeks flushed in heat. He settled back against your chest, resting his cheek to your heart as you resumed drawing the lazy patterns on his back.

Perfectly content.

Warm. Safe.

Home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

Can I have a Biker/Mob Bucky with a forced marriage trope? 💦💦 (Breeding kink please?)

Title: Promised to Him

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You return back to your town after years, hoping to start anew. But faces of the past reappear, set to fulfill promises you had made years ago.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Non-con, forced marriage, breeding kink, kidnapping, language, 18+ ONLY

It was strange how this town never seemed to have aged. Everything was almost exactly how you remembered it to be. Even the smell of the place seemed the same: hyacinths that grew in almost every house, stale coffee, and motor oil. Being back here proved to be more difficult than you thought, for everyone was keen to catch the look of the girl who ran away.

Nobody ever really left this town, and if they did, they had the good sense to be gone forever. You held more than mere curiosity; you held their smug resentment too. They had told you when you’d left for university years ago that you will regret leaving, but you never knew they’d make you regret coming back too.

“They don’t sell them carrots at the city, do they?” The cashier taunted you, putting your groceries in a bag. You held in your retort, reading her name tag and recognizing her as one of the girls you went to school with.

“How much?” You asked, not rising to the bait.

“I would charge you extra for being you, but alas, it’s all paid for. Grab ‘em and take ‘em and leave.” She said, rolling her eyes at you. You stood still in surprise, your wallet open in your hands.

“Excuse me?” You said, bringing her attention back to you from the other customer she had started on. “Paid for? How? By whom?”

The look you got told you exactly where she thought you could stick your questions in. That was one thing you missed about the city. Everyone was too busy in their lives to care about someone else. People there were aloof, often even cold, but that suited you just fine.

“Look, I haven’t got time for you. You’re blocking the queue.”

You struggled for a moment, determined to hold your ground when the person behind you huffed in irritation. Taking your stuff, you bowed your head down and exited the store, ignoring the murmuring that followed you. Oh god, how you wished to return to the city where all that was expected of you was to pay rent and do your job? You had never expected to be laid off so suddenly, nor find yourself alone and helpless enough to let your mother convince you to return home.

It had been years, but your legs remembered the way home easily. You’d played in these alleys, stolen sweet kisses behind the trees in your youth. They remembered you just the same, the birds chirping out their hello to you, the only ones to do so sweetly as you passed.

You were almost to your home when the rumble of bikes reached you. You sidestepped, walking along the edge of the road to allow them to pass, however, they slowed near you and purred alongside. Raising your head to look at them, you caught your breath. Well, you suppose it was time for him to show up anyway. You’d been expecting him since the day you came back.

“Bucky”, You whispered, watching him dismount his bike and walk over to you. Steve and Sam smiled at you from their own bikes, though they didn’t climb down. They all seemed to have grown buffer, stronger than before and you spied some new tattoos inking under the collar of their shirts.

Bucky stopped directly before you, his long hair tied back into a small pony. His blue eyes were fixed on you, the curve on his lips widening as you began squirming under his gaze. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “Doing okay sweetheart?”

His voice had deepened, a scar near his eyebrow dimpling as he regarded you. You gulped uneasily, the last day you’d seen him flashing behind your eyelids, that confrontation still ringing in your ears. It was dim hope that he’d have forgotten about that, but by the steely look in his eyes as well as the danger he exuded, you knew that to be false. Bucky Barnes was not one for forgiving, and never for forgetting.

“Hi.” You softly greeted him and his friends, managing a forced smile. Sam waved at you cheekily and your eyes flitted between the three of them nervously, your fingers playing with the strap of your grocery bag.

“Been a long time.” Bucky said, coming closer. Almost unconsciously you stepped back to maintain some distance, watching his smirk widen as he pushed you back against the wall, cornering you in the isolated alley. “Come on sweetheart, you don’t need to look so scared. The last time I saw you, you were spitting fire.”

You touched the cold wall behind your back as if asking it to give away a little. This was not how you’d expected to meet him again. You thought he’d show up at your house, ready to continue the argument that had cemented your decision of leaving this town, but meeting him in a dark alley was not something you wanted. You had no control here, nothing to defend yourself against him.

“I have to get home soon.” You pathetically said, looking away from him. “We can talk later.”

Bucky chuckled, placing a hand on the wall beside your face as he bent to bring his face level to your own. “Of course sweetheart. About time you came home, hm?” Tucking a stray hair behind your face, his eyes still hard, he smiled before taking your hand and pulling you with him. You protested, digging your heels into the ground as Steve and Sam watched in silence.

“Bucky, stop!” You said, hitting his back with your fists until he jerked around to roughly pull you to himself, your grocery falling away from you and spilling on the ground. “Aah! What are you doing?”

Anger that had not rushed in your veins in years rose to the surface again, your eyes blazing at him in fierce rage. Years ago, he had done something similar and it had sent you skipping town in the dead of night, and looking at him now you knew it was the right decision. Just like this town that never stopped living in the past, Bucky refused to move forward and change.

“What am I doing?” He asked, fingers digging painfully in your arms. “I am doing what I should have done then. What did you expect baby, that you’ll come back here and we’ll pretend nothing ever happened?”

You slapped your hands on his chest to push him away, barely managing to put an inch between you. Two people walked past you, looking at the scene before quickening their steps and going away. You didn’t even try calling for help. Nobody would interfere with Bucky and his people, not if they knew what was good for them.

“What happened between us was in the past Bucky.” You snapped, trying to keep angry tears at bay. “Don’t make the same mistakes you made then. Let me go!”

Incensed by your words, he squeezed you harder until you cried out in pain, whimpering in his hold. This was only the second time he had put his hands on you, a reminder of the strength he packed and how it was barely kept at bay.

“Buck,” Steve called suddenly, “come on man, you’re hurting her. Let up, you know we don’t hurt our own.”

Almost instantly his hold slackened, thumb running gently over the place where you’re sure you’ll bruise tomorrow. His eyes went soft, almost apologetic as he stroked your cheek. “You’ve always had a way of getting under my skin.” He said, linking your fingers together. “Come on now, I am taking you home. You’re not getting away from me again.”

As he tried to take you away, you shook your head, a traitorous tear sliding down your face. He refused to listen to anything you said, Sam and Steve ignoring your pleas to them as their bikes rumbled to life. You looked back, a hand reaching out for your fallen groceries as if they could anchor you and prevent your taking.

“Leave them. I paid for them after all so I can leave them to rot.” Bucky snapped, forcing you onto his bike. Cupping your jaw, he stared into your eyes until he knew all your attention was on him. “Hold on. You can try to run away, but you’ll only break bones this time. This time, you won’t break my heart.”

He climbed in front on you, taking your hands and pulling them around his waist, squeezing them in warning. Then in a roar of engine, you were flying with him, the wind whipping against your tear-stained face as you drove past your house and back to the past.

Back to square one, that’s where you were at. The boys hadn’t renovated their house, but it still looked huge and intimidating. Walking in, you were flooded with the memories of your teenage years spent playing with them, your first kiss with Bucky in the kitchen, the first night you spent in his bed, the very last night you spent here and in this town. This used to be your heaven, today, it was your hell.

“Have someone bring her stuff round here.” Bucky said, his fingers wrapped around your wrist though you’d stopped struggling a while ago.

“Nat and Clint are already on it.” Sam said, chucking his shoes off and flopping dramatically on the couch.

You bit your lip at the news, scared for your mother. You’d known Nat and Clint for years, but you doubted they’d taken your leaving any better than the other members of the gang. Bucky turned to look at you and sighed, cupping your chin to press a kiss on your forehead.

“They’ll behave themselves.” He promised. “You’re my girl, your family is my family. Nobody’s gonna harm them.”

Even now with the years long gone by, he could read you like an open book. Your love may have faded, and his may have soured, but the remains of it that lingered between you were potent and strong. How had things gone so wrong? How can the man you would have once taken a bullet for scared you enough that you just left?

“Buck,” You softly said, trying to appeal to the softer side of him. “It’s not too late, please let me leave. We can talk over this.”

He had rarely denied you anything, but this man was not the man you’d known before. Bucky exchanged an amused glance with his friends before looking at you like you were the dumbest, cutest thing ever.

“Sweetie, don’t worry your head. We’ll have a lifetime to talk after the ceremony, hm? Come on, you need rest.”

Bucky started you up the stairs and you screeched, shouting curses at Steve and Sam who were scrolling down their phones. If by any fluke they let you in the kitchen, you vowed to poison the lot of them.

“What ceremony?” You asked, panting as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s stride. “Bucky! What ceremony?”

He didn’t answer until you reached his room. You sucked in a breath as you entered. This was the room you had slept your last night in town, well, not really slept. You’d crept away from his bed and rushed home to pack and disappear, leaving a scrawled note for your mother and Bucky that you’re leaving early for your studies and would not be coming back.

Bucky watched you take in the room, standing behind you with his arms around your waist. He’d taken your virginity in this bed, promised a lifetime of happiness.

“Not much has changed, has it?” He asked, placing a scratchy kiss on your neck. “You can redecorate if you want.”

You gulped as you found a picture of yourself beside his bed, one taken on your 19thbirthday, merely days before you skipped town. You both looked so happy that day. Bucky had finished university while you were only considering joining one. He hadn’t been happy about you looking for ones in the city, but that day he had promised you no arguments and fights. It was such a beautiful day with all your friends and family wishing you the very best.

“I remember that day.” Bucky said, following your gaze. “I made you cum so many times that night that I had to carry your downstairs in the morning. You were always so responsive to my touch.”

As he talked, his hands moved, roving over your frame. You shivered when he grazed your sides and under your breasts, pushing his hardness firmly into you. Whimpering, you placed a hand on his wrist to stop him and he stilled before grabbing you by your shoulder and turning you to face him.

“Bucky, please don’t.” You begged, tears prickling your eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

He blinked at you before smiling tenderly, tucking a strand of hair behind your year. Gently leading you backwards, he pushed until you were at the edge of the bed. With a shove, you bounced on the mattress and crawled up on your elbows, watching in fear as Bucky deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, his eyes boring into yours.

“Why am I doing this?” He asked, titling his head. His shirt fluttered to the ground, leaving him bare from waist up and you couldn’t help but stare at your name tattooed right over his heart. “I am doing this because you promised yourself to me.”

Pants roughly pushed down, he quickly came forward to pull you back by your ankle as you tried to escape. Climbing over you with only his boxers on, he held you down with one strong thigh thrown over yours, the blue in his eyes darkening.

“You remember those days?” He asked, “We were only teenagers when you promised you’d marry me. You were spoken for, always. We were always meant to be!”

His lips descended over yours, claiming them after years with a passion that hit you like a punch in the gut. You sobbed into the kiss, your nails raking across his back as you wiggled under his body.

“We were kids!” You protested, screeching when Bucky tore through your clothes to bare you to his hungry gaze. “It didn’t mean anything!”

“It meant the world to me!” Bucky harshly said, breath warm on your face. His rough fingers traced your cheek before holding your jaw in place, pressing a kiss on your pouted lips. “You meant the world to me. You still do.”

Cold air met your sweaty skin as he forced you out of your tattered clothes, licking and biting every patch of skin he exposed. You cried out, pulling on his hair to deter him.

“Bucky, this isn’t you. You wouldn’t hurt me like this.” You gently said, softening your touch until his eyes were on you. “We promised each other a lot of things. You promised never to hurt me.”

He bunched the cloth of your panty and ran his thumb over your covered slit, taking in your gasps with delight. Leaning down, his nose nuzzled into your hair and he sniffed you, holding you hostage.

“That’s right.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple as he kept rubbing you. “Just like you promised never to leave me. And then you did.”

Your panty was torn away with one powerful tug, it’s elastic chaffing your skin and making you cry out. Bucky’s eyes feasted on your glistening sex, his tongue running across his bottom lip in wonderment at your moist center. Carefully collecting your dewy essence on his thumb, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it, closing his eyes as he tasted you again after what felt like ages.

“Nothing intoxicates me more than your taste.” He said, holding your hands tight. Lowering his boxers, he presented you his thick cock, the very sight of which had you tremble. What is this large before? “I would have loved to taste you again, to have you come in my mouth again and again and then take you until the sun preyed upon our tryst with voyeuristic eyes. But I have waited far too long for you. Today is the day I will bind you to myself. Forever.”

Every plea falling from your lips meant nothing to him and he positioned himself over your weeping slit, his hardness lubed in your juices. Your wrists were pinned beside your head, his blue eyes churning like the evening sky and gleaming with the light of burning stars. In one push of his hips, he sheathed himself inside your warmth, your gasp matched only by his groan that reverberated through the room.

“Oh god!” You exclaimed, struggling to take him in. It had been far too long since you’d laid with a man, especially one as large at Bucky. He stretched you to accommodate him, rolling his pelvis until you keened pathetically.

“Oh yes, I am your god. And by sundown tomorrow, I’ll be your husband.”

He maintained a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you in long strokes that had you whimpering. It felt too good, too sensual. Bucky burned with the need to possess you, but it was impossible to separate his love away from his obsession. You felt his light and his darkness in equal amounts, the sparks of his fire reaching you and forcing you to burn too.

“Bucky – I, please.” You begged, incoherent with pleasure. The last night you were under him flashed behind your eyes, a major wave of déjà vu rolling down your spine. A heated promise of matrimony was made, followed by an equally powerful night in the sheets where he forced you to shout to the heavens that you’d take his ring and name. The very next day, you were gone. But today, he held on tight. There won’t be any escaping now.

“Look at me.” He hissed, toying with your clit, bruising your shoulders and neck with his passionate kisses. “Look at me and fall apart. Let me see your walls break down. I am claiming you again baby, and there won’t be no leaving this time.”

You came like a thunderstorm ravaged your insides, flooding your channel with heat that bubbled around his length. His breath hitched, eyes squeezed tight as you clamped around him. It took a while for you to realize you were crying, the salt of your tears on Bucky’s lips as he kissed them away, eyes too tender for the way he was taking you against your will.

A monster had no right to be this beautiful, nor so full of love.

Biting your lips, you shook you head as the familiar tingling in your abdomen began anew. Bucky tensed, his thrusts choppier and jerkier as he neared his edge too.

“Yes baby, one more time.” He said, “Come on, let me love you again. Open your heart to me.”

The tidal wave of emotions that you couldn’t keep at bay swept over you again, your back arching. Your nipples scratched against the hair on Bucky’s chest, the added stimulation causing you to groan in pleasure far too great to bear. Shuddering in delight, you fell apart and Bucky grunted, holding you tighter as he prepared to unload into you.

“I’m gonna fuck our brat into you.” He promised and your eyes widened. You weren’t on any pills. “Let’s see you run away now. Once you’re my wife, the mother of my child, you’ll never leave.”

“No!” You shouted, but to no avail. Bucky let out a moan, his face buried in your neck as he came inside you, flooding you with his spent. You cried at the feeling of his warmth inside you, cried at your freewill being snapped like a stretched rubber band. His hold loosened, an arm wrapped around your waist and bringing you in his side.

Turning your face to him, you sniffled when he softly wiped away your tears. Kissing you deep, he lost all the hardness that he had had earlier today, bringing to you the wounded look that had probably stayed with him for years after your departure.

“I love you so much. I never stopped loving you.” He said, blindly reaching back into his nightstand until he got the velvet lined box out. You swallowed thickly because your reality was staring you in the face with an ultimatum. No was not an option.

Knowing that the rest of your life might go much easier with a loving man by your side, you sidled closer, brushing his scruffy jaw gently. His eyes misted at your voluntary touch, overwhelmed. You’d loved this man once more than life itself. If the only shot at happiness you had was reigniting that, you’d start now.

“I will love you again too.” You promised, not knowing if it was your vulnerability or your helplessness that prompted this. “You gotta give me some time.”

Taking your hand, Bucky slipped in a diamond ring and kissed your fingers before kissing you.

“You’ll have all the time in the world almost Mrs. Barnes. We’re getting married tomorrow.”

Pierced Through and Through

Summary: Bucky has planned the perfect vacation. All he has to do is get through the metal detectors without revealing his secret. 

Pairing: TFAWS Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K 

Warnings: Smut, exhibitionism, praise kink, piercing kink (Bucky has brand new c*ck piercing), mile high club public sex, airplane bathroom sex, oral (m receiving), p*ssy slapping, dirty talk,, dom/sub dynamics, begging kink, choking kink, Minors DNI

A/N: Beta’d by the wonderful @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog and @whisperlullaby and an entry for her challenge! All mistakes are my own. 

Do not copy, translate, reproduce, rewrite or repost any of my works. Comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and cherished. By hitting read more, you agree that you are 18 and older. 

Bucky Barnes is a romantic, you blame it on his 1940s upbringing. It’s not unusual for you to come home to flowers, chocolates, and oh his home-cooked meals. Nothing like seeing him, all six feet of thick ripped muscles, standing in front of the stove wearing nothing but an apron, holding up a spoon dripping with fragrant marinara sauce, telling you to open wide and swallow like the good girl you are. 

For the past week, he’s been acting strange, hiding his laptop whenever you wander into the room. 

He keeps staring at you to the point where you’re looking down at yourself, wondering if you spilled something. Each time he follows up with his signature smirk, pure lust in his deep blue eyes. He’s always insatiable but something is different, he’s holding back something from you, often distracting you with mind blowing sex, in fact, the only warning you get before he’s on you, in you, is his bottom lip catching between a flash of pearly white teeth. 

When he announced the vacation it all made sense, his odd behavior, his increased libido. He’s been thinking about all the filthy things he’s going to do to you in another country. 

And you are ready for it.

The ride to the airport is peaceful, the sky shades of dark azure and teals, the crescent moon visible to your left. The early morning traffic is light, so you arrive earlier than expected. While it pained you to get up before the sunrise, you have to admit it’s worth it to not deal with crowds of people. His hand, heavy and warm,  rests on your thigh as he pulls into the lot. 

“You can hold my hand or nothing at all.” He says, giving you a pointed look when you try to take your bag from the backseat. With a giggle, you lace your fingers between his as he shoulders all of the suitcases and bags in one arm. The airport buzzes with activity, people milling about, shops preparing for the rush in an hour or two. You squeeze his hand with excitement the closer you get to the check-in point. 

Soon you’ll be on a tropical island with nothing but him, drinks, and the sand. Nothing between you but the salt tinged breeze and the sun.  

Bucky’s steps falter when you near the terminal, ahead of you the airport security waving people through, checking belongings.

 “You okay?” you ask when he hesitates, his Adam’s apple bobbing twice, his eyes flitting across the space. Bucky smiles briefly before setting the bags down in the grey bins.

 You go through the metal detector first and turn to wait for your bags to travel down the conveyer belt.

He follows, setting off the alarm.

Strange.

 He’s never done that before, not since he has had the upgraded arm.

“Sorry, Sergeant Barnes, protocol.” The TSA agent apologizes before he picks up the thin black wand, waving it over his body.

You watch him, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Bucky sighs, his eyes closing. He seems oddly resigned. Your brows furrow when you see sweat bead along the crown of his forehead. 

Bucky feels the back of his neck becoming hot, a flush creeping up his chest. He averts his eyes, aware that you’re looking at him, his breathing becoming heavier, more noticeable. The agent pauses at his abdomen, “Are you alright, sir?”

Bucky attempts a smile, the grimace putting you and the agent on edge. The wand dips lower.

Beep.

The loud piercing sound reaches your ears, at first you assume it’s because of his belt. But then you remember Bucky isn’t wearing a belt.

He’s wearing loose gray sweatpants because you told him he should be comfortable for the trip.

The wand shifts back up. Beep. Right over his dick. The agent brings it back up and down. Beep. 

You take a step forward as the agent steps backward.

“Bucky?” 

“Sir?”

You speak in unison. Bucky’s face turns a deep maroon, nearly matching the red lacy bra you’re wearing under your blush pink sundress.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.” He spits out through gritted teeth. His chiseled jaw clenched tight, a muscle twitching in his scruff-covered cheek.

You exchange glances with the befuddled agent. Licking your suddenly dry lips, you glance around the semi-crowded airport. Thankful that few people recognize the super-soldier with his oversized hoodie concealing his arm.

“Sir, whatever you have tucked in your pants-“ The agent begins, clearing his throat nervously when Bucky’s eyes land on him. You admire the man’s bravery, not many can face down your man when he’s giving them his signature death stare. “- you’ll need to put it on the conveyor belt.” His voice cracks when Bucky stands up straight, cracking his neck. 

“Please.”

Bucky crooks his index finger and motions for the agent to come closer. He looks back at you and you shrug, giving him a helpless I have no fucking idea what’s happening look.

You rock onto your tiptoes to try to take a peak, failing to seeing much. You can only make out Bucky’s arm moving forward, a shocked gasp, and the sound of elastic snapping against skin.

“Oh wow. Wow, I’ve never seen anything that big, I mean-” he looks over his shoulder at you. “-how are you not waddling right now?” His flustered tone makes you blink slowly. 

Tilting your head, you place your hands on your hips. “What?”

The agent drops his eyes, “M just saying, should be walking side to side.” He sings the last bit. Your lips pull down into a confused frown, opening your mouth to ask him what the hell is going on, Bucky cuts you off with a loud groan.  

“I assume we can go.” He snarls, the sound making your belly twist, you don’t know what’s happening but you like it when he gets riled up. Bucky grabs his belongings out of the bin resting on the conveyor belt. 

“Sergeant, you can do whatever you want.”

“Excuse me?” you exclaim incredulously, eyes widening. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Bucky grabs your arm, spinning you around. ”Let’s go.“

He ignores your questions, his hand hovering over the small of your back, guiding you through the airport. You struggle to match his long strides, his blank, angry stare alone parting the crowds until you reach the gate. 

 Once you’re on the plane, you’re led into the private cabin, only three other people besides the flight attendant are in your section. You sink into your buttery smooth leather seat and wait for him to put up your bags. Suspiciously studying him as he reaches into the overhead cabinet, cursing yourself for talking him into wearing that large sweatshirt. You can’t make out a thing through the thick fabric.

Bucky plops into the seat beside you. His gaze fixated on the serving tray. He’s concerned, almost nervous. No, he can’t be. Nothing makes your man nervous. You touch the side of his face with the pads of your fingers, massaging his jaw. 

“So.”

The word hangs in the tension thick air. 

He sighs, eliciting a deep groan from his chest as he tilts his head back. Running your fingers through his soft locks, you turn in your seat. “So you wanna tell me- “

“It was going to be a surprise.”

Scratching his scalp until he relaxes, you wait for him to continue, his blush returning. After a minute, you tug his hair. “You said that already. What is it exactly?” You retort, emphasizing “it”.

Bucky lolls his head to the side, his piercing slate blue eyes gazing into your curious ones. 

“Igotapiercing.”

You stare at his plump pink lips, trying to process the jumbled words. “You what?”

Another groan. You stare at him gesturing for him to repeat himself.  

Bucky reaches down and pulls his hoodie up, the grey fabric bunching up over his chest, his darkening blues never leaving yours. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his black and gold hand reach under the band of his sweatpants. 

“What are you doing?” You hiss, looking around grateful that no one is paying attention to you. 

The flight attendant is talking to the wealthy-looking older couple a few rows ahead and the person behind you is sleeping.

When you drop your eyes back down, you gasp. Your hand flying to your mouth to stifle it. Your gaze sweeps across the cabin, thankful that no one heard you. 

His cock is out. 

Buck has his hardening cock in his fist.

The thick veiny shaft visible between his fingers, but it’s the head. The swollen tip with precum leaking out that has your attention. Holy fuck. The silver piercing going through it, making it look even larger. Your hand twitches, wanting to touch it. 

“Oh, fuck.” You breathe out, letting your hand fall from your face. “Fuck me.” You mean it, please fuck me Bucky. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, his eyes holding a hint of concern. “You know how I’ve been on the internet more.”

“Uh-huh?” 

His hand shifts up his shaft and the rigid piercing moves slightly. “I saw a video. ”

You’re not even listening right now, too distracted by the silver gleaming under the fluorescent lights, it’s curved, two small balls attached to the ends. Your mouth watering at the thought of running your tongue over it. “Mm-hmm.”

Bucky can’t tell if you’re happy or not, holding himself tighter. He wonders if he should have asked you first. “Supposed to make you feel good. Enhance your pleasure.” He explains defensively, a cautious edge to his voice. 

“Uh. Huh.”

“I can take it out, doll.”

That snaps you out of your daze. “The hell you will.”

Without thinking, you drop your head to his lap, your tongue flicking over the leaking tip. His unique salty taste bursting on your tongue, you trace the smooth piercing, marveling at the contrast between his soft flesh and hard metal. 

“Damn, I love you.” His voice low and needy, the way you like it. 

He cradles the back of your head with his large palm, not pushing but waiting for you to guide him into your mouth, breathing through your nose, you ease down his thick cock.

 He tastes so good. His warm heavy weight on your tongue, the piercing a strange feeling in your mouth, bobbing your head, you hollow your cheeks sucking him until you feel his thigh tense under your hand. You know exactly how he likes it, loudly, sloppy with tears streaming down your face, you really wish you could give him what he deserves right now but you’re not even hiding the fact that you’re sucking his cock. 

You pull back, licking up the side of his shaft, the veins throbbing with each twist of your hand. Bucky murmurs soft praises that have you craving more, you swirl your tongue around it and he moans quietly, painfully aware that anyone can see his girl taking his cock. “Fuck, you’re good doll.”

You take him back in your warm mouth, gagging softly when he hits the back of your throat. Bucky whispers under his breath. “My sweet dirty little girl-” 

You hear a loud exaggerated cough coming from behind you. You pull off of him with a laugh, wiping away the string of spit, Bucky clenches his fists taking in a deep breath trying to control the urge to face fuck you in front of these nice people. 

Sneaking a glance over the top of your seat, the man behind you has his eyes shut, his lips pinched together. You slump back in your seat, face burning. You really gave Buck head in the middle of the plane. Looking down at his cock, you’re seconds away from finishing the job. 

“In five minutes, meet me in the bathroom.” His deep voice delivering the demand right in your ear. 

Oh fuck.

Bucky tucks himself back in his pants and saunters down the aisle. You grin at your clasped hands, containing your eager squeal. It’s about to go down. Your pussy throbs with every second that passes. You’re almost afraid to get up because of how wet you are right now. You keep your chin tucked to your chest, ignoring the chuckling from the person behind you, and dart down the aisle, mumbling sorry when you almost knock over someone. 

You open the door and peek inside. “Buck-”

He grabs you, shutting the door behind you. He shoves you up on the sink and for the second time in ten minutes; you struggle for air. 

Bucky is completely naked, pants pooled around his feet, shirt over the small toilet, the harsh white light reflecting off the piercing as his cock sways. His large muscular body crowding the small space, pushing you back into the mirror. He’s everywhere. His hands part your thighs,  cool smooth metal and warm rough hands, languidly rubbing your skin. 

Bucky grins at you. “I was going to have the first time be on the beach but I can’t wait doll.”

“Good.” You moan, his fingers pressing into your thighs.

His breath hitches when you reach out, telling you to don’t act shy now, it’s your cock doll. Even without his dirty praises in your ear, his hand guiding yours down to his throbbing erection between your bodies, you’re so turned on, ready for him. Your panties clinging to your sopping wet cunt, your dress bunched around your waist. 

“Take it.” He orders, every bit the Sergeant he is, daring you to defy him. 

You want him too bad to even think about teasing him today. 

You stroke his cock, in awe of the way the metal curves around his tip, gently caressing the end of the metal with your thumb, pulling the side of it. Bucky feels it through his entire cock, a vulgar grunt in his chest, his hands digging into your thighs. You’re going to be bruised tomorrow. 

You glimpse up at him through your lashes, he’s seconds from losing it. Your clit aches at the thought of him going feral. 

You stroke it again, harder this time, comparing the warm metal to his heated flesh and you twist your hand firmly. He groans your name, his hand grabbing your wrist, pulling you away.  “Keep it up and I’ll cum.”  

“I thought you said you could only cum in my pussy or mouth, Sergeant.” You say sweetly, biting your bottom lip. 

 The veins in his neck pop out his control splinters, his growl sending jolts straight to your pussy. Bucky leans down, crashing his lips down over yours, his hands lifting your hips off the counter, dragging your panties down until you can kick them off. 

You need him inside you, stretching you right now.

“So pretty,” he whispers, pulling you to the edge of the sink, his cock bobbing over your stomach as you grip the walls for support. Bucky is a fucking tease when he knows you’re the needy one. He knows how badly you want him, but he’s going to make you beg.

Holding his shaft, he eases his swollen head through your heated folds; you flinch when the metal taps your clit, its firm and cool on your pulsating bundle. A breathy wanton moan pouring out when he does it again. 

“Bucky.” You whine, wrapping your legs around him, trying to bring him closer. 

Bucky shakes his head, “Not until I’m ready.”  He smirks when you glare at him. “Wanna challenge me, doll?” 

His metal hand latches around your throat and you almost cry when he squeezes. You’re no match for him, he knows your body too well, how much pressure to apply to make you break, how to put you back together and rip you apart again without breaking a sweat. 

 He circles your clit, tracing intricates patterns over you, light touches that have you rocking forward desperate for friction until you whimper out please Bucky, please baby. Fuck I’ll do anything, just, please.  

“Not good enough, I don't know if you really want  it doll, doesn’t sound like you do?” He taunts, his hand tightening over your throat as you beg for him. 

 Bucky slaps your pussy with his cock once, twice and you jolt, sparks of pleasure shooting through you but it’s not enough, your throbbing cunt clenching down hard over nothing.

“Sergeant, please.” You plead, your heels digging into his back. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get him to move. “Bucky, please.”

You gaze into his eyes, the thin rim of blue barely visible around his lust blown pupils. God, he likes you like this begging and desperate, dripping for him. He slaps you again. Another whimper falling out of your mouth. You let go of the wall and grab his hair and yank hard. 

His head jerks back and he slams into you, the sudden burning stretch overwhelming you. Suddenly so full of his thick cock you can’t breathe. His name strangled on your tongue. 

“Fuck, you don’t know how good you feel Doll”.  His appreciative groan makes you even wetter and fuck he can tell. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s slamming back into your velvety heat. “M gonna stay buried in this sweet little cunt all week.” Your head flies back, his hand reaching around in the nick of time to keep it from bouncing off the mirror. He pins your hand above your head as his hips grind into yours. “Gonna fuck you everywhere on the island” 

“You’re making a mess of my cock” He says looking down between your bodies, watching his cock disappear into your tight pussy, coated with your slick with each thrust.  

He whispers more filthy things in your ear, the mirror fogging as he tells you all the ways he’s going to take on the beach, the surrounding forest. You’re not going anywhere until he’s satisfied. The fast, merciless thrusts have you keening louder and louder until he covers your mouth in a hot, sloppy kiss.

 You feel every inch enhanced by the smooth ends of his piercing gliding over your fluttering walls, his lips on yours are the only things keeping the entire plane from hearing your sobs. Bucky bites your lower lip gently before soothing it with his tongue. Your own dives into his wet mouth, deepening the kiss as he fucks you. 

 A knock on the door goes unanswered. 

You don’t give a fuck who’s out there, not when you feel this good; you don’t think it can get any better; he changes his angle, pulling you up and metal strikes your soft spongy spot. Pure electricity shoots you through. It’s fast and brutal in its intensity, your toes curl, back painfully arched off the sink.

 “Buc-” 

 He swallows your scream, barely muffling the sound. You know they have to hear you, but then he does it again and your eyes roll back. All worries about being quiet are gone when he keeps hitting your sweet spot.

 It’s more than you can take.

His metal fingers drop to your clit. “So much, too much, so good fuck I can’t, I can’t.” You mumble into his mouth. 

He makes out your frantic pleas, his lips still on yours, and he grins deviously. Oh, you will, doll. He grazes your clit lightly with small circles, waiting until his next thrust, and he pushes his thumb hard over your sensitive bud at the same time his piercing drags over your spot. His muffled good girl pushing you over the edge.

You shatter. An incoherent, shrill moan erupting from you, breaking away from his hold as the orgasm surges through your body. With a dull roar in your ears, you see stars. Purples and reds blooming behind your eyelids, sobs, and moans wracking through as the coil unravels. His large hands hold you steady, letting him fuck you harder. 

Sweat clings to your body, the front of your dress drenched in it, your thighs burning and trembling around his waist. Tears burn your eyes, mascara dripping down your face, the small space impossibly hot.

Bucky groans, “One more doll.” He laughs when you shake your head. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” 

Bucky plants his hands on the mirror for leverage, grinding deeper in you, fucking you relentlessly until you cum again and again. Pleasure overwhelming you, your nails scratching red trails down his chest. 

You clench down again, riding through another orgasm, his pace falters as he feels his own climax building. His hips snapping erratically in you until he drops his head with a grunt. “So fucking tight, pussy was made for me.” 

 “C’mon Bucky, fill me up, god I want it” you moan, biting down on his shoulder, letting him use your body he spills inside of you. “Yes, fuck.” 

He rests his forehead on yours, his softening cock falling out of your spasming cunt. “Love you,” you giggle. 

Bucky smiles at you, reaching over to grab a handful of paper towels. “Love you too.”

You point at his cock, “I think I love him more though.” 

His face drops, making you laugh, reminding you how much you love these moments after he wrecks your body. He playfully grumbles as he wets up the towels with warm water and cleans up the mess between your thighs.

You fan yourself off with your hand, wiping off his forehead with the bottom of your dress. You rest your back on the cool mirror, the sweat drying, you bring your knees up to give him enough space to get dressed. 

Another knock on the door. Persistent banging while you adjust the straps on your dress. 

You look at him and he shrugs, his brow raised defiantly, pocketing your panties. 

He opens the latch, smiling smugly at the flight attendant. She looks past him and stares at you in wonder. You gaze back, eyes dazed, looking thoroughly loved and fucked. The smell of sex drifting out of the small bathroom.

“Ma’am” He asserts over her indignant spluttering for the both of you to return to your seats. He takes your hand and pushes past her, you stumble behind him on shaky legs when you lose your balance, he sweeps you into his arms. Bucky places you into your seat, reclining it for you.

 Snagging a bottle off a passing tray, he helps you take a drink of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. 

He looks out your window, then at his watch. You yawn, lids drifting shut. “I’m not tired, doll.” His tone has your eyes snapping open. 

Placing a kiss on your lips, he rubs his nose along your throat, humming quietly. “We land in five hours”. He tosses the thin airplane blanket over you. His warm hand slipping between your legs. “Let’s play a little game doll.”

He grabs your chin with his metal fingers gazing into your eyes. “Make a sound and I stop.” Oh fuck. He pulls your bottom lip down, leaning closer, his warm breath brushing over your skin. “Be quiet and you get to cum.”  

“But if you make a sound, you have to do whatever I want all week long.” 

What if Bucky and the reader are in a relationship and he finds out he’s really into being a pleasure dom and wants to try it with the reader? 👀

Pleasure Dom Bucky, yes please 😩 you just know that mf would take such good care of you after a long stressful week. Honestly, this one took me a hot minute to write because I had to do some research for it lmao, I hope it’s okay!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Summary: You have a terribly long week at work so Bucky helps you relax

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it pls), PleasureDom!Bucky, sub reader, pet names, praise kink, degradation, size kink, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (done with consent established previously), daddy kink, the dog tags make an appearance, mention of safe words, overstimulation, lil voyeurism (watching yourselves in a mirror), light humiliation

Minors, do not interact

What had started out as a week with very little in your calendar soon turned into an absolute killer. You weren’t quite sure how your time got filled up so quickly, wall to wall meetings scheduled into your diary, leaving you hardly any time to even breathe. The meetings themselves weren’t even the worst part, the worst was knowing that after your work day had officially ended, you had endless catching up to do for your other projects and then all the planning for the meetings the following day. Your sleep was limited, as was Bucky’s. He hated going to bed without you, tossing and turning in the sheets for hours until you eventually gave in and joined him. As the week went on you found yourself only getting more and more stressed. By Friday you were almost ready to lie in bed and not move all weekend, just hoping Monday wouldn’t bring more of the same torture.

When 5pm on Friday rolled around, Bucky was standing waiting at the door to your study, adamant that your laptop would be switched off and hidden from you all weekend, along with your work mobile. You huffed out a little tired laugh, rubbing your sleepy eyes as you surrendered your gadgets, not even wanting to put up a fight, just glad to see the back of such an awful week. Bucky had let you choose a takeout to order from, keen to get some real food in you before making sure you got a good long rest to combat those dark circles forming under your eyes. Within 20 minutes of finishing dinner, your sleepy eyes became too heavy to hold open. Bucky hated seeing you so worn out, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to bed, thankful that you had changed into your pyjamas before the food had arrived so he wouldn’t have to disturb you too much. His heart melted at the sight of you clinging to his thin cotton pyjama top, craving the comfort his body afforded you even when you were sleeping.

But God, waking up the next morning, he was reminded of exactly how much comfort your body afforded him. Your hair was fanned out on the pillow gently, your face looking so relaxed compared to how it had been all week, long eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks in the early morning sunlight. Your little snores were still deep but fuck, the sight of you in only his shirt and a thin pair of panties had him harder than he could’ve believed possible without being touched. Suddenly, the room felt stiflingly hot, his whole body itching to touch you, to make you forget all about that terrible week, fucking all thoughts from your head until you couldn’t think of anything never mind work. He put it down to the fact that he had hardly so much as kissed you goodnight all week, his body going into overdrive from the pent up longing and frustration.

He couldn’t help how he noticed everything about your body this morning, the way your nipples pebbled quickly when he slipped his cool metal hand under your shirt to gently grab at your breasts, doing his very best to contain his satisfaction at the way you tried to lean into his touch. He also didn’t miss how your body responded when he ran one flesh finger over your clothed core, a little groan falling from your parted lips when he added a little extra pressure to your clit. He loved how your body was just so intoxicating, always ready to take him. After a few more teasing glides across your core he pulled your panties to the side, finding your body was reacting to him nicely, wetness beginning to drip from your needy hole. Without thinking, he shuffled down the bed, his tongue poked out, lapping gently at the sweet nectar he had drew from your body. He was so hard now it almost hurt, noticing how even in your sleep, the wetness between your legs only grew. Tiny whimpers fell from your lips as he pressed a metal finger to your entrance, sliding in with ease, tongue lapping gently at your clit.

“So delicious toots, takin’ me so well.” He whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear him but still needing to tell you. Your hands grasped at the sheets, fingers gently bunching them, stirring from your sleep but not quite conscious yet. Your walls were fluttering around the single digit, your high not far away.

“Christ, Bucky.” You whined, eyelids flickering open, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room and make sense of the overwhelming sensations between your legs at the same time. “What are you doing?”

“Havin’ a little breakfast babydoll, jus’ let me take care of you. Wanna make you feel good all day, okay? You aren’t leavin’ this bed.” His voice was so low and seductive, lips latching back onto your clit and his finger curling inside you. You could only nod, whining as the pleasure became too much, keening against his face to ride your orgasm out against his tongue. “Tha’s it toots, gimme more. Good girl.” He encouraged, working his finger even faster, prolonging your high for as long as possible. God he got off on this, your needy moans nearly too much for him to handle. But no matter how much precum leaked from his swollen tip, no matter how badly he needed to cum, so long as you were getting off, his pleasure was only an afterthought to him.

“Well good morning to you too.” You huffed out a little laugh as his finger eventually slid out of you.

“Sorry baby, couldn’t resist.” He smirked, wiping his now glistening chin with the back of his flesh hand.

“No complaints here Buck, it was better waking up to that than an inbox full of emails.” You chuckled, stroking his hair lovingly.

“It had better be, if you’d rather have the emails I’d be offended.” He laughed softly stroking the inside of your thigh with his flesh thumb. “But if you talk about work anymore I’ll have to gag you.” His voice was light and teasing.

“Maybe some other time Buck.” You chuckled, running a hand gently through his messy bed head, your high ebbing pleasantly away as your feet hit the plush carpet of your bedroom.

“Ah ah ah toots, what did I tell you? You aren’t leavin’ this bed today. Gotta make you feel good til you can’t think of anything but me.” He reached out, grabbing your legs to pull you back onto the bed, lips latched onto the soft meat of your thighs, fingernails digging into your flesh gently as he kissed you, a fire burning fiercely behind his eyes once more. God he meant it. You really weren’t going to get a minute’s rest today.

“I was thinkin’ babydoll, how many meetings did you have yesterday?” He asked thoughtfully in between sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs

“Eight honey, why?” You managed to choke out.

“Wanna give you that many orgasms.” He stated bluntly as if it was the most normal request in the world. You knew very often Bucky got as much pleasure from making you cum as he got from cumming himself but this suggestion was something else. His lips on your thighs felt amazing, the little dusting of stubble burning as his face drifted up the inside of your legs, his eyes never leaving yours

“There’s no way I can handle eight.” You whispered, losing yourself slightly to the pleasure of his mouth on your sensitive skin.

“Course you can little slut, that’s one down, only seven to go. That’ll keep you nice and busy won’t it? By the time I’m done, work will be the last thing on your mind.” He made it sound so easy, so lovely, like it was absolutely manageable, enjoyable even, but you knew better than to dream of gentle orgasms, soft touches and sweet kisses. You knew that when Bucky got into the mindset that everything he did was entirely for your pleasure, it was all about tearing you orgasms from your trembling body in the quickest succession possible, one barely ending before the next began. This was the first time he had ever suggested such an intense session. His kisses got sloppier, his wet mouth making you groan as it connected with you core once more, panties pushed to the side. Fuck, his tongue felt incredible, broad, firm strokes over the entire length of your dripping sex. You pressed your lips together to stifle your noises, your hands sinking into the soft, dark hair on Bucky’s head to pull his face closer to where you needed him most.

“If you’re holdin’ those pretty noises back toots, I’ll add another orgasm on as punishment.” He quipped, mouth creating a seal around your clit before sucking hard to pull the filthiest moan from you he had ever heard. He was in his element, hard and needy and damn near ready to hump the bed beneath him for some relief but determined to absolutely wreck you before he could even think of his own pleasure. Without saying much more, he slid two metal fingers into you, admiring how they slipped in with so little resistance.

“That’s it, oh God you take me so well. Know exactly what your body needs baby, need to be fucked like a whore don’t ya? Gonna make sure you can’t even think straight by the time I’m done with ya.” He was almost growling in between little kitten licks to your clit, fingers plunging in and out of you, rubbing your silky walls perfectly.

“Bucky, more, fuck.” You hissed out, grinding your hips against his hand. The vibrations from the little laugh he let out in response felt amazing.

“God doll, you’re not gonna be begging for more by the time I’m done with you. Gonna have you begging me to stop. But since you were a good girl this week, I’m sure I could play nice for now.” He laughed, lips and tongue crashing against your clit, fingers working faster and his eyes trained on your face as he tore another orgasm from your body. You groaned out, rutting against his face, your juices soaking his fingers and tongue as you rode out your high, panting and whimpering deliciously for him.

“Good girl honey, did so well. Want you to ride me now, yeah? Want that little body on top of me. You just gotta use me to make yourself feel good doll, don’t even worry bout makin’ me cum. Want as many of those pretty moans as you can give me before your legs give out.” His filthy plans had you whimpering, knowing that when your legs turned to jelly from too many orgasms, that didn’t mean you’d be stopping. It just meant he would take over. You did as he asked, hopping up onto your knees while Bucky undressed himself, giving his proud, hard cock a few lazy pumps watching you remove your pyjamas. You positioned yourself above him, his metal hand lined his cock up with your soaked, already abused hole. Sinking down onto his length tore groans from both of you, Bucky’s flesh hand gripping your waist to stop himself from pushing you the whole way down too quickly.

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy, you feel so good for daddy. God kitten, this pussy is so hungry isn’t it? Needs me, I can feel it. You need daddy’s cock to make you feel good? Gonna take such good care of you.” He was losing himself in the feeling of your silky walls gripping him, wetter than he could ever remember you being before. But god, you had six more orgasms ahead of you, how on Earth was he gonna make it if you got any wetter? The thick drag of his bare cock inside you was almost more than you could take as you pulled yourself back up his length again, sinking down quickly until he was entirely seated inside you.

“So so big daddy, I can’t.” You wailed, the sloppy sounds coming from your pussy fuelling you to keep going regardless.

“Yes you can angel, doin’ so well for daddy. So tight around me, can hardly move. Nothin’ feels as good as you do. Fuckin’ live to be buried in this little pussy, you know that?” His filthy pants had you rolling your hips faster against him, not really fucking him, more grinding your pelvis against his with his length fully seated inside you. It was such a different sensation to being fucked, it just made you feel endlessly full, the thickness of Bucky’s cock stuffing you, the head nestled deliciously against that sweet spot inside you. Every little grind of your hips had him nudging that spot inside you, making your eyes roll back and your head flop to the side. And Bucky was absolutely obsessed. He couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from you, not knowing whether he wanted to watch how your breasts jiggled as you moved, watch down at the mess you were making where your bodies were joined or watch the look of sheer pleasure on your face. He loved seeing you take what you needed from him, knowing that he was still in control but letting you use his body to satisfy yourself.

“So deep ‘nside you toots, bet you can feel me in here.” He pressed his metal hand to your lower tummy, the coolness making you gasp. Everything felt like it was too much but the grind alone wasn’t enough to tear your building orgasm from you and of course Bucky knew that.

“Tell me what you need, tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Bucky whispered softly, lips dusting chaste kisses on your shoulders, flesh arm wrapped up your back, helping you move against him.

“Fingers daddy, on my clit.” You pleaded, eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hanging open slightly.

“Magic word toots?” He teased with a little laugh, flesh fingers dancing over your clit torturously.

“Metal ones daddy, please.” Your whine would have been mortifying under any other circumstances but right now, you didn’t care. Bucky raised an eyebrow at your little request, secretly thrilled that you got so much pleasure from his metal digits.

“Filthy girl.” He whispered, replacing his flesh hand with his metal one, rubbing between your bodies in harsh circles. The cool fingers felt even better, the ridges in the unrelenting metal only added to the sensations threatening to consume your body. It didn’t take long for you to feel yourself tightening, Bucky’s movements never even faltering as you hit your peak.

“That’s it, cum for me, good girl, hump Daddy’s big cock. Know how much you need this, know you love daddy fillin’ you up.” His eyes were completely trained on your face, loving how it screwed up in response to the words he mumbled in the quiet, early morning air. Your gasps didn’t stop as your high started to subside, mainly because his fingers didn’t stop. You tried your best to pull away, becoming far too sensitive very quickly but Bucky’s flesh hand on your hip held you in place.

“Want another one out of you before I let you move.” He whispered, fingers only speeding up against your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“Can’t take it daddy, it’s too much!” You sobbed, face buried into the crook of his neck as your body twitched around him, another peak fast approaching. You knew you could’ve said your safe word if you needed to but deep down you knew you could handle it.

“I know you want it angel, c’mon, stop holdin’ back.” He growled, rubbing you even faster, dragging you screaming into yet another orgasm. You couldn’t help but bite down on his flesh shoulder as you came, your body shuddering, wet nectar dripping out of you and down over his balls.

“Oh fuck, soakin’ me, you know that? Pussy is drippin’ everywhere. Such a wet little slut for daddy, aren’t ya cupcake? Such a good girl.” Bucky’s praise only made your walls flutter even more, pulling a growl from his throat. Before you even got a chance to register what was going on, Bucky had you flipped over, ass in the air, face down on the bed with his cock still inside you.

“Can’t wait anymore toots, need this.” He grunted, fucking into you recklessly. You could’ve screamed from the overstimulation, body trembling, walls still trying to milk Bucky’s thick cock. Again, your last orgasm didn’t even get a chance to ebb away before you were being worked towards another one. Your back arched into the bed of its own accord, letting Bucky fuck deeper into you. Your whimpers mingled with Bucky’s grunts, sounds of skin slapping on skin filling the house.

“Pussy’s still clenchin’ me so tight, you’ve no idea how good you make me feel. Body’s always so ready for me.” Bucky was almost growling, his own need almost entirely taking over, eager to cum so he could get back to focusing on giving you as much pleasure as you could handle.

“Thank daddy for fuckin’ you. Thank me for givin’ you my cock raw like this.” He groaned, fingers drifting between your thighs to play with your swollen bud once more.

God, this was humiliating and you were loving every single second.

“Thank you daddy! Love your cock so much, think about nothing else. Love how you fuck me, love how big it feels, love your cum, just need more daddy please.” Your words were only broken by little gasps, Bucky fucking into you harder than you even thought possible.

“Tha’s it, God yes, takin’ me like a good girl, my best girl. Little pussy so hungry for daddy’s cum. That never changes, does it honey? Should just keep you plugged and full of me all the time. Only thing that could keep your needy cunt happy, isn’t it? Just a little cum whore. Gonna give you a load now baby, okay? Keep that little face pressed to the bed and ass up, want it all drippin’ as deep ‘nside you as it can get. Don’t want a single drop spillin’.” Sometimes you wonder where Bucky possibly learned to talk so dirty but right now you didn’t care, teetering on the brink of a fifth orgasm as you lowered yourself the way he wanted, his cock nudging your cervix in this new position.

“So deep daddy,” you whimpered, muffled slightly by the thick duvet as he pounded into you. His fingers rolling perfectly against your clit was enough to tear you apart, your body shaking, fingers squeezing the sheets as you rode out the electric feeling shooting the whole way through your body. That was all it took to drag Bucky over the edge too, not able to hold back with how your walls were tightening around him, milking every drop of cum into your body.

“So tight toots, can’t even move.” He groaned, stilling his movements to stay pressed right at the deepest point inside you. The warm feeling of his cum exploding into you was almost more than you could handle, knowing every drop had to stay there to keep Bucky happy. His fingers didn’t stop moving against your clit though, tearing as many aftershocks from your over worked body as you could muster.

“Bet there’s so much cum in you now.” He whispered proudly, kissing down your spine despite the thin sheen of sweat, slowly pulling out and humming appreciatively when there wasn’t even the slightest indication of the mess he had made inside you. You felt absolutely boneless, knowing you were over the half way mark but still nowhere near finished yet.

“Three left honey, how ya feeling?” He cooed softly, taking a second to stroke your hair and dote on you. His cock hadn’t softened at all but it rarely ever did after only cumming once during such an intense session.

“Feel good Buck, sensitive.” You whispered, flopping onto the bed with your eyes closed, sucking in deep breaths to steady yourself.

“Think you can take some more for me?” He asked quietly, placing tiny kisses to your shoulders and neck. You could do nothing but hum contentedly, letting him give you as much affection as he wanted.

“Need you to use your words sweetheart. Didn’t make you, dumb already, did I?” He chuckled, making you open your eyes to see that dashing smile

“Want more daddy, I can take it.” You nodded gently, noticing how his smile only widened at your eagerness.

“I’m so in love with you, ya know that?” He beamed, giving you a gentle kiss that was all teeth and tight lips, his smile still so evident on his face. “Won’t mind though if you need to stop. Want you to enjoy this babydoll.”

“No Buck, I can keep going. But we can cuddle afterwards, yeah?” You asked, placing a little tired kiss to his knuckles of his flesh hand.

“Oh honey, when we’re done here, we can do whatever you like. This weekend’s about you, jus’ wanna make you feel good.” He agreed, heart aching at the sight of you looking so beautifully fucked out and still asking him for more.

“Thank you daddy.” You smiled lazily, knowing it would get him right back in the mood to fuck you relentlessly through the final three.

Bucky groaned hearing the title fall from your lips again when he was least expecting it, cock bobbing deliciously in agreement.

“Fuck princess, you’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” He laughed, metal hand falling to grip his aching cock. “Jus’ you lie there angel, lemme do the work this time.” You sure weren’t going to argue, pressing your head back on the soft pillows as Bucky positioned you how he wanted you, slotting neatly between your spread thighs. Despite how kinky Bucky was, missionary was still one of his all time favourite positions. It was simple, comfortable, uncomplicated and he loved being able to see your face contort as he takes you apart, not to mention the perfect bounce of your tits when he slams into you. Bucky lined up with your soaked pussy, taking the time to make sure none of his seed from the last round had spilled from your core. Once he was satisfied that it was only your own juices that were coating your thighs, he pressed in, revelling in the gasp you let out.

“So warm and wet babydoll.” He hissed, head thrown back as he set a decent pace, thrusting in and out with his metal hand pressed to your lower tummy. “Swear I can feel myself in here, just so deep ‘nside you, aren’t I?” You couldn’t really believe how your body was still craving him, still needing more even though you were so fucked out already. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to reply, almost every coherent thought having been fucked from your head. The soft clinking of metal had you opening your eyes. But when did you close them? You had no idea, and far less did you care upon seeing Bucky hovering on top of you, his dog tags swinging in front of your face. Somewhere deep inside your brain you registered that he must’ve pulled them from the nightstand when your eyes had been shut but there was something about them that just made the sex that little bit better. He knew how much you loved them too, smirking down at you as he continued his leisurely thrusts.

“Like what you see?” His voice was deep and seductive, close to only being a low rumble. His abs rippled with every push into your tight heat, little grunts slipping past his lips occasionally, a light flush on his cheeks from arousal. What was there to not like about Bucky Barnes? You could only nod, trying to press your hips closer to his pelvis, wanting to pull him deeper than even should have been possible.

“God, you can’t get enough can you? My cock that addictive honey?” He teased, flesh fingers toying with your clit. You cried out quietly at the feeling, not understanding how you could possibly still need more. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you reached up, taking those jingling dog tags in your mouth, lips wrapping neatly around the chain. Bucky thought once more that he might cum then and there, just at the sight of your little pretty mouth enveloping his tags, the metallic taste covering your tongue.

“Need your slutty mouth filled too baby? Should’ve said somethin’, coulda had my fingers ‘nstead. But maybe you couldn’t tell me? Can’t get any words out now, can you? Daddy’s cock knocked all thoughts out of that little head, hm? That’s okay angel, daddy doesn’t need you to think, jus’ need you to cum. Think you can do that for me?” Your legs were shaking but you nodded you head regardless. As Bucky had been talking, he had dialled everything up a notch, fucking you faster, rubbing you in tighter circles, everything just felt incredible, your orgasm so close once more.

“Ah, daddy, please.” You pleaded, absolutely no idea what you were even pleading for anymore other than release. Bucky chuckled lowly from somewhere deep in his chest before giving you what you had begged for, pressing a little harder on your clit, rubbing in the same tights circles, dragging you through a painfully intense orgasm. Your teeth bit down on the hard metal in your mouth, trying to stifle the screams and whines that fell from you as every single vein in your body throbbed, desire washing through you violently. Bucky was completely and utterly obsessed with you, coaching you through your high with the same filthy grunts and promises that you had learned to expect from him.

As your high subsided, Bucky didn’t slow, if anything he just fucked you faster, not chasing his own release yet but loving how you looked like you had been fucked absolutely senseless, eyes rolling back, head crooked to the side, fingernails digging into his flesh, dog tags still in your mouth.

“You’re a fuckin’ picture like this doll, so beautiful for me. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” His thrusts had your tits bouncing back and forth, jiggling even more as you squirmed, trying to move away from him given how painfully overstimulated you were becoming. You screamed and yelled as his fingers picked up speed, slipping around from the insane amount of slick that had dripped from your hole.

“Come on little whore, cum for daddy, give it to me. Silly little slut can’t do anything but cum, can you? So fuckin’ good at it, no thoughts left in that pretty head of yours, daddy fucked them all out didn’t he? Love seein’ you like this, greedy pussy takin’ everything I give it. You’re an angel, you know that? My angel. Body’s always so ready for me.” Bucky’s voice was deep, strangled and needy, working you as fast as he could. Your legs couldn’t hold still as he pounded you, metal hand still pressing on your tummy so you could feel his cock even deeper inside you. It was all too fucking much, that ball of need inside you exploding once more making you scream, thrashing around under his huge body. Your rhythmic squeezing had him groaning, screwing his face up, unable to hide how good it felt.

“Last one princess, you ready?” Bucky asked softly, pulling out to give you a second. Christ, you looked wrecked but in the best way possible. His dog tags slipped from your mouth, spit trailing down your chin that you wiped away with the back of your hand.

“You sure you can take another? Need a colour toots.” Bucky probed gently, stroking your cheek lovingly, pushing your hair away from your sweaty face.

“Green daddy, just one more. I can take it.” You nodded weakly, fawning over the little gentle kiss Bucky pressed to your forehead.

“That’s my good girl.” He soothed. “I’ll make it quick, promise.” With that he hopped off the bed. You couldn’t really find it in yourself to care about why he had got up, taking the time to catch your breath and steady yourself but when he came back empty handed, you couldn’t help but be a little confused.

“Gonna move you toots,” he hummed quietly, shifting you onto your hands and knees at the side of the bed and that’s when you realised what he had been doing. Bucky had pulled one of the wardrobe doors open, specifically the door with the full length mirror, leaving it at an angle so you could see yourself from where you sat on the bed.

“Want you to watch yourself, see how pretty you look when you cum for me.” He groaned, harder than he could ever remember being in his life before. You whimpered even just at the thought, letting him slip inside you then pull your back flush to his chest. His whole body felt like it was surrounding you, probably because it was. His firm chest felt so comforting against you, both of his arms supporting your bare frame, casing you in against him. He pulled your hair out of the way, making sure he was able to kiss your neck and shoulders before beginning to piston his hips, fucking into you at a punishing pace. You were so glad he was holding you up, knowing if he took his arms away, you would be left to crumple onto the sheets. Your moans were so lewd you surprised yourself at how keen you were to just keep taking his cock. You knew you would feel empty without him inside you after such a long session but the emptiness might even be a blessing after this insane amount of stimulation.

“Look at yourself baby, you just came seven times for me and you’re still keen to go again. Still gonna give me ‘nother one. Cause you’re the best girl, aren’t you? So so good for daddy. Jus’ lettin’ me take and take from your body. You feel that mess sweetheart? You’re fuckin’ soaked right down to your knees, toots. All my cum from earlier drippin’ out of you. Don’t worry, got ‘nother nice big load to fill you with. Gotta give my best girl what she needs.” You hadn’t even noticed the sticky wetness between your thighs, the change in position letting it all seep out of you. You whined, high and needy as his fingers ghosted through the wetness, landing on your clit. His movements were smooth and methodical, rubbing you at the exact pace he knew you liked. He didn’t want to drag this out any more and he wasn’t even sure that he could last any longer.

“Cum for me babydoll, one last time. That’s it, good girl, hump daddy’s fingers. Excellent baby, doin’ so well for me, ‘m so proud of you, you know that? So so proud.” You felt your body clench harder than you had even thought possible, a strangled cry being torn from Bucky’s throat, his seed spilling so deep inside you.

“Ah, holy shit, can’t stop cummin’.” He panted against your neck, your head flung back onto his shoulder as the most intense high of your life took over. Your whole body was alight with pleasure and yet everything still felt so intimate in this position. Your bodies just felt connected in a way that you couldn’t even describe. Maybe you were just delirious with pleasure but it didn’t even really matter, chants of Bucky’s name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your pussy throbbed, aching and abused but not relenting in the slightest, if anything it only clenched harder around Bucky, milking every single drop of cum from him.

You practically collapsed onto the bed together, chests heaving, both spent and sweaty from the most exhausting morning of you life.

“Christ.” You whispered with a little content laugh, words not even connecting in your brain to form a coherent sentence.

“I agree.” Bucky laughed softly, pulling you practically on top of him, needing to feel you close and take care of you. “How ya feelin’?” He asked quietly, kissing your forehead and playing with your hair, being as delicate with you as possible.

“ ‘m good.” You hummed, giving him a little nod, taking in all the adoration he was offering.

“How bout a little nap, hm? You’re exhausted sweet pea. Then I’ll make us some lunch, yeah?” Bucky suggested, losing his mind when you snuggled yourself even closer to his body. You could only nod and give him a little smile, his fingers carding through your hair ever so gently. The hammering in Bucky’s chest was returning to a more natural thud, comforting you even more, your eyes closing of their own accord.

“My best girl.” He whispered, pressing more gentle kisses to your fragile body, little compliments and praises breaking the silence, lulling you into the best sleep of your life.

Taglist:

@stucky-my-ship @caprimourne

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pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky never talked much. he fell in love anyway.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words.

And you noticed that fairly quickly. In fact, it was one of the first things you noticed about him when you first joined the team. Quiet, reserved, gentle Bucky Barnes wasn’t a man of many words.

But his eyes spoke volumes.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

His gaze fell, “Not much to say.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

And you pushed him a lot to do so. Always asked him about the 40s and what he was like. You remembered asking if he was just as quiet then as he was now and Steve laughed from across the room saying, “You’re kidding right, Y/N? Buck was a real smooth talker.”

So, you teased him about that often. He didn’t like it, always said something about not being that guy anymore.

You reminded him that he could be any guy he wanted.

So, yeah, Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but you two got close.

“I know you stole the remote, Buck.”

He circled around the kitchen counter, walking away from you.

“Is it because you don’t want to watch that Disney movie with me? I know you secretly like it and —“

“I don’t have the remote, Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what’s that hanging out of your pocket?”

You saw that little grin form on his face and you hurried forward and grabbed it before he could say another word.

He chased after you.

Then there were those times where he did thoughtful little things. Where he let his heart show through that thick wall of his and it made you realize just how much he spoke without speaking.

“Did you guys drink all the coffee again? Really? Does no one —“

Bucky handed you a cup.

“Two sugars, right?”

“Yeah and —“

“A dash of cream.”

That was until he added salt into your coffee one morning.

“We ran out of sugar!” he defended.

“So you added salt? Buck, that’s —“ you eyed him. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

He took a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, you’re getting brave. I can —“

You grabbed his coffee and headed straight for your room.

He chased after you again.

So, yeah you two got close.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but you two still got close.

He never let his walls down completely though. Never enough to let you know what he was feeling anyway, if he was hurt. It didn’t bother you so much until you realized he was always hurt, always hurting and that stung a little too much.

“Buck…can you let me in? Please?”

“We can talk tomorrow, Y/N.”

You sighed, standing outside his door.

“I don’t wanna talk tomorrow. I wanna…we don’t have to talk at all, Buck. I just wanna be with you right now.”

No response.

“Please?”

You’ll want to talk anyway, you practically heard and you sighed because it was true.

You knew you’d ask him a bunch of questions and Steve already told you — he already told you that Bucky liked his space. That he got distant sometimes when the world got too much or people got too much for him. Sometimes his mind got too much and Bucky wanted a break. You slid down against his door and sat there for ten minutes hoping for a change of heart.

You weren’t leaving though.

“Hey, Buck, how about this?”

You continued when he didn’t respond. You knew he was listening.

“How about we create a system? One that doesn’t involve you talking or me asking. It can just be...our thing. It can our thing, Buck.”

Nothing.

“And we don’t have to do it all the time. Just when we need to. When I need to know things and you don’t feel like giving. Think you’ve already given too much, don’t ya think?”

Nothing again.

You sighed.

But then you heard the door open and you fell back a little. Bucky looked down at you, what system? his eyes read and you patted the ground in front of you, signaling for him to sit.

He sat.

“Okay so, two taps anywhere like this,” you pressed your fingers against the back of his hand twice. “Means you’re okay. That you’re fine. Three taps, however,” you pressed three times against his skin. “Means you’re not. That you’re not okay.”

He stared at your hands.

“And I don’t have to explain why?”

“Never, Buck. Not unless you want to.”

You tapped him four times.

“What’s that?”

“Four taps means you miss me.”

Bucky got up.

“Aw, c’mon Buck. Humor me a little!”

You didn’t miss the little grin on his face.

Somehow you thought he’d give you two taps just for that comment.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, so he liked the system.

He first used it three days after it was created.

He’d woken up and strolled in for his first cup of coffee. Wasn’t the least bit surprised when he found you already there, cup ready in hand with eggs to match because coffee isn’t breakfast, Buck. He’d usually argue about it. Coffee’s the only breakfast, he’d say, but he didn’t have that in him today.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t come out of his room in three days. Or maybe it was because you hadn’t said anything to him yet, but Bucky didn’t argue. He just found himself tapping your hand twice when he reached for the cup.

You grinned.

Bucky liked that.

And you found that was the one he used the most.

Two taps.

Two taps whenever he went off to bed. Two taps when you played that Godforsaken Disney movie for the 5th time that week. Two taps when Thor made some stupid comment about wars during dinner one night.

It was two taps.

Always two taps.

So you were more than a little surprised when your first three taps came.

It was right after a mission. A long one. One that Steve had gotten hurt on because Bucky hadn’t gotten there fast enough. It wasn’t his fault though. Wasn’t anyone’s fault because everyone was too preoccupied with the bad guys at hand to notice the knife coming for Steve’s left side. Bucky took the blame though. Beat himself up about till he got into the jet.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, are you okay? You wanted to say it. Wanted everyone to say it because how could they not notice?

You didn’t though.

Instead you sat next to him and waited for him to say something, anything. At some point, you felt yourself giving up and drifting off until you felt his hand on your thigh.

He squeezed it three times.

You rested your head on his shoulder.

Then there was that time you left for six days. Fury had you and Natasha assigned to some undercover mission in London for the next six days. It took the whole six days, while the boys jetted off to New Orleans to deal with some asshole causing a ruckus in the city.

They came back in two.

“Buck!” you shouted, waking through the compound and dropping your bag at the front door.

“Buck, I’m back! Where are —“ you grinned, finding him resting at the bar stool in the kitchen. He was reading some file and you dropped your head onto his shoulder from behind.

“Hey, Buck. Miss me?”

He stopped.

“No? Ouch, well, I missed you,” you turned your head, kissing his cheek. “Look, I even brought you back a keychain. Nothing fancy. Just has a cat waving the British flag and when I saw it, I thought of you. The cat looks grumpy.”

Bucky didn’t say anything and you removed your head from his shoulder. He must be really into the file, you thought and you didn’t want to bother him so you left the keychain on the table and turned around to head to your room.

Bucky grabbed you and tapped your waist four times.

You launched yourself at him and covered his face with a series of kisses. Everywhere. Anywhere you could reach and each one was followed by a string of  I knew it, I knew it, I knew it’s.

Bucky never wanted to use the four taps again.

Except he did. All the time.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but he thinks he was starting to fall for you.

Because he did four taps whenever you left the room for too long. And when Steve briefed them for too long that one time about some mission, Bucky found himself tapping your leg four times even though you were right there.

Right there. You were right there.

He even recalled nudging his nose against yours four times when you fell asleep on him during that damn Disney movie the previous week.

“Miss you,” he mumbled.

But it was okay because when you woke up the next morning, you nudged your nose against his cheek four times.

Bucky woke up with a bright gleam in his eyes.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Missed you, obviously.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Buck.”

And then there came a time where Bucky decided he wanted to create a new one.  A new tap.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but he knows he finally found love.

“Sweetheart, damn, can you slow —“

Because you were stuffing popcorn in his mouth. You were laying in front of him, in between him to be more exact, and throwing popcorn behind like it was nothing.

Most of it didn’t even make it into his mouth.

“Shh, this is the best part.”

“You say that everytime. We’ve seen this movie a —“

“Shh, Buck!”

Bucky laughed and pulled you up so you were closer to his chest. It wasn’t anything special that made him realize it. Thinks it was the familiarly and the comfortability that made him put the pieces together, but Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips against your hair three times. Just three and that was enough for you to tear your eyes away from the screen and look up at him.

“Buck?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Did I throw too much popcorn again? You know I get excited when Lucifer gets on screen. He reminds me so much of —“

Bucky tightened his arm around you and tapped his thumb against your stomach once.

You knitted your brows.

“One? Buck, one doesn’t mean anything. We don’t have —“

“One means I love you.”

“What?”

“One tap means I love you. It means I love you, Y/N.”

It took a few seconds for your brain to register but once it did you jumped up in his lap and turned to face him. Bucky's sure the popcorn bowl had spilled all over the floor, but he didn’t care. Not when his girl looked at him like that and leaned in to kiss him like that too. So fiercely and full of love.

“Okay, okay, baby! I said one tap.”

“One tap gets you a million kisses each time.”

“Mhm. I’m okay with that.”

You giggled, I know you are, you mumbled against him and kissed him a little harder. He felt brighter, more happy and he knew he wasn’t one to say much, but his eyes always did and that was enough for you to pull back for a quick second before leaning in to give him one, long, seething kiss.

One kiss.

And at that moment, Bucky knew the kind of guy he wanted to be.

He wanted to be the kind that was loved by you.

exception

summary bucky always softens around his girl.

pairing bucky barnes x reader

warnings fluff.

a/n have a nice day/night <33 my masterlist

Bucky certainly wasn’t a ray of sunshine around people.

He usually didn’t smile around the team. He would wake up earlier than everyone, train earlier than the rest of the team. He wasn’t the one to talk a lot, just answering questions.

Bucky was cold, he couldn’t control it. It wasn’t easy to feel comfortable around people after what he went through.

You were an exception.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Bucky finally came to your door after a long day, full of training recruits. He let out a breath and knocked on your door with his knuckles.

“Hey, doll”

“Bucky!” you said as you jumped into his arms. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up a bit.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he said and kissed your hair.

“Mmh, yes. How was your day?” you said as you left his embrace, walking him to the bed.

“Eh, ordinary. Missed you so much.” he said and you gave him a look, making him chuckle. You sat on the bed and patted the spot next to you, telling him to sit. Instead, he took you in his lap and layed down, you on the top of him, his hands on your waist and your hands next to the sides of his head.

“How was your day, doll?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“It was fine, I did some work and baked cookies.” you said as you started kissing his neck. Bucky hummed at the feeling of your open mouthed kisses.

“Chocolate chip?” he asked, a big smile forming on his face.

“Yes” you chuckled and put your head on his chest. His hands started to draw patterns on waist and arm and he started humming to an old song.

Bucky was longing for peace before he met you and now that you were with him, he wanted to keep you forever. He wanted to wake up next to you everyday. He wanted to sing 40’s songs with you. He wanted to take you out on a date at that fancy restaurant Tony recommended.

He wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you he loved you with the most beautiful words he knew. He wanted to write you songs, letters, poems. He wanted to express his feelings like everyone around him did.

He sighed quietly.

Instead of using his words, he took your face in his hands, caressed your cheeks with his calloused thumbs and gave you a tender kiss. His lips were soft and it made you forget everything else for a few good seconds, there was just you and Bucky.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Flight Risk

summary: Bucky becomes a flight risk after a failed mission and is put in lockup under Steve’s orders. Even though Bucky won’t say a word of what happened, you camp outside the door to his cell so he knows he isn’t alone. (based on an anon request) pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.8k warnings: descriptions of canon level violence and past torture, general angst and sad boi times, protective!bucky is also a takes-all-the-blame-that-doesn't-belong-to-him!bucky 😔

You thought you knew how it felt to have the carpet ripped out from under you – the familiar drop in your stomach, the skip of a heartbeat, the momentary flash of panic as you met the ground only seconds later. But this? This was worse. As if the Earth had drawn a fault line between your boots, a tangible crack in the pavement that gave way to an endless gap of paralyzing nothingness. Falling and falling and falling until there was nothing else. Never hitting the ground. No escape from the plunge.

Bucky Barnes was in handcuffs as Steve guided him off the ramp of the quinjet. Blood caked into the metallic creases of his left hand; red stained into his right. His shoulders were slumped; sweat dampened hair falling down into his face and obstructing your view of his eyes. He didn’t fight the restraints, didn’t so much as argue a defense as SHIELD agents stumbled away from their path. Sam limped a few steps behind, his hand resting uncharacteristically against the gun on his thigh.

Whatever excitement you held, whatever smile had made its way to your cheeks in anticipation of their return was quickly replaced by a dark, unsettling dread. So deep and agonizing, it rendered you near to stone, unable to tear your eyes away from the silver cuffs securing Bucky’s wrists and the edges of the metal digging into exposed skin.

“Bucky...?” you called, wincing at how shaken your voice was.

Despite his distance, Bucky faltered in his steps at the sound of his name, his shoulders visibly tensing, though he made no move to look for you. He kept his head down as Steve led him away from the crowd, hair falling down into his eyes to shield himself from the gathering agents’ pointed stares and the not-so-quiet murmurs of disapproval.

It wasn’t until they disappeared through the hall at the end of the landing bay that the rush of what you witnessed hit with the force of a freight train. Straight to your heart, nearly knocking the wind right out of you— the dream-like delirium clouding your senses shattered.

You took off running, sprinting through the landing bay and shoving aside agents that stepped into your path; gathering to watch Captain America lead away the Winter Soldier in chains. You nearly tripped when you heard a disgruntled agent mutter, ‘we knew it would happen eventually,’ but you forced yourself to keep going. You couldn’t lose them in favor of sending a rookie to the med bay.

You rounded the corner on a deserted hallway. The echo of your steps was excruciating as you sprinted towards them, chasing after the florescent reflection of Steve’s shield and closing the distance between you. Only steps away, you could have reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder if not for Sam blocking your path.

“Steve, stop!”

You collided into Sam, his arms caging around your waist. It forced you to pause, only for a minute as you glanced down to find his grip unforgiving as it clung to the fabric of your sweatshirt, his hands prodding into muscle hard enough to leave bruises. Something was wrong; so terribly wrong that Sam felt it necessary to restrain you by force to keep you from reaching Bucky. The realization did little to ease the rush of fear and fury coursing like ice through your veins.

“Get the hell off of me!” You kicked at Sam’s shins, scratched at his arms, made every desperate attempt you could to escape.

“Y/n, you need to calm down,” Sam said in a remarkably even tone as his partner was led away in restraints strong enough to subdue a wild animal.

Steve turned his head only slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of you as you struggled to break free of Sam’s hold. There was a sadness in his eyes, an understanding, and still—he turned his back to you.

“Bucky! Bucky!” The break in your voice was amplified by the unsettling silence of the hall.

But Bucky didn’t turn around, didn’t spare a single glance in your direction, but you knew he could hear the panic etched into his name – the fear. It was written in his hands as they curled to fists, his nails digging into flesh, metal into metal.

A passage opened on their right – one that seamlessly blended into the wall – and Bucky stepped inside with little guidance from Steve. You froze, stilling in Sam’s arms as you watched Steve follow behind, his hand gripped tight to Bucky’s shoulder – not in warning or in restraint, but in comfort.

Before you could make sense of it, the door closed behind them. The panic ran like ice through your veins, adrenaline spiking straight into your heart and you broke free of Sam’s hold.

Sprinting after them, you came upon the stretch of hallway where the passage appeared. Shaking hands ran haphazardly along the wall, running over the bumps of old, dried paint, and nicks in the foundation.

“Come on, come on!” you begged, tears burning in your eyes. You slammed your hands against the wall in frustration, the sting of it burning against your palms. Sam slowly approached beside you, a frown etched to his lips, his eyes filled with remorse.

“Y/n–”

“Open the door, Sam.”

Sam clenched his jaw, though he did not move to follow your order. You wipe the tears from your eyes angrily with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was damp at the wrist.

“Open the door,” you said again, demanding your voice stronger than you felt.

“I can’t do that. Not yet,” Sam said softly. You could see the agony in his face, how the lines ran along his forehead in worry, how his eyes held a sort of guilt you hadn’t expected. Something about the way he was looking at you, crumbled every resolve you had left. Without the rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins, your body gave way to the exhaustion and you slumped against the wall for support.

“Was he triggered?” you asked, a lump burning in your throat. It shouldn’t be possible, not since Shuri removed Hydra’s programming, but you hadn’t seen Bucky treated like a prisoner since the aftermath of Vienna. It wasn’t supposed to happen again. He never should have been in chains again...

Sam sighed, his gaze down at the floor. “No.”

You clasped your hand over your left wrist, rubbing your thumb over the raised edges of a stubborn burn that never had the decency to heal properly – a habit you’d picked up to ground yourself. “I don’t understand. What happened to him?”

Sam set a hand on your shoulder and it was enough to bring you into his arms. This time, when he held you, it was a relief. He ran a hand along your spine as you rested your cheek to his collar.

“We’re trying to protect him, Y/n,” Sam said. “He’s a flight risk right now. We can’t let him hurt himself or anyone else.”

You pulled out of Sam’s embrace, a frown tugging at your lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Sam could answer, the wall slid open behind you and Steve stepped into the hallway. There was no time to slip around his frame and dart through the passage before the wall sealed again. Steve must have noticed your disappointment because his gaze darted to Sam, a silent conversation between them you didn’t appreciate.

“I want to see him.”

Steve looked at Sam again. Something like rage began to boil in your veins.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Steve said, thumbs resting in the belt of his suit. His Captain stance. It had never felt so demeaning until this moment.

“I don’t care what you think is a good idea, Steven,” you spat, stepping into his space until he backed up against the wall. Even as he towered over you, he retreated under your icy stare. “I just watched my best friend get escorted around his own home in handcuffs and paraded like a fucking prisoner in front of dozens of SHIELD agents that already think the worst of him! I want to see him. Now.”

“I know what he means to you, but we didn’t have a choice, Y/n,” Steve retorted.

You scoffed at his implication – that your feelings for Bucky might be clouding your judgement, that you might not be able to see the danger in the decades old assassin because all you saw were the lines along his eyes when he smiled and the creases in his cheeks from the shoulder of your sweatshirt when he dozed off on movie nights and the shy smiles when he showed up in your room with Thai food after a long training day.

Maybe it allowed you to see him more clearly. It let you see past what everyone else expected him to be. It let you see the man behind the rumors and the trauma.

“You had him in chains, Steve. Chains.” The tears were starting again and you didn’t care if they saw. They should see. They should know what it meant to put Bucky back into a cell, to restrain him and treat him like he was an unstable killer. They should know you refused to see Bucky the same way.

“You don’t know what happened out there... How many people he—” Steve bit his tongue. His jaw muscle twitched as he swallowed the words you knew he would say. There was blood on Bucky’s hands for a reason.

You swallowed. “How bad?”

“Bad,” Sam replied. “We just need to give him time to cool off. If he had his way, he would still be out there taking shots at every Hydra agent who ever laid a hand on—”

“Sam,” Steve warned. Sam pressed his lips together, offering Steve a short, apologetic shrug. The burn on your wrist ached a little more and you pressed your thumb against it until it subsided. The two of them started to mutter quietly amongst themselves; half of a silent conversation you didn’t understand.

You stepped slowly around Steve, placing a hand on the wall as if it could act as an extension to the man held in a cage beyond the dark passage behind it. You rested your forehead against it, closing your eyes at the touch of the cold wall. Sam and Steve were quiet as you turned back to them.

“I’m not asking you to release him,” you started, staring up at Steve. “Not yet, anyway. I just... I want to see him. Please.”

Steve swallowed, glancing over at Sam who only gave a short nod in response. He sighed. “He didn’t say a word the whole flight home.”

“That’s okay,” you replied sincerely. “He’ll know I’m there— that I’m not afraid. He’ll know someone is there.”

A strange look crossed Steve’s features – something mixed of surprise and appreciation and a gentle kind of grief. He set his hand against the wall and a blue light glowed under his palm, scanning his prints. When the wall slid open, it revealed the sort of hallway you'd expect to find in a hospital wing – if the hospital were cold, colorless, and entirely empty. Abandoned and haunting.

Steve led you down the corridor while Sam stayed behind. It was a twisting maze of endless hallways, each filled with dozens of empty rooms with reinforced locks. There were no windows, no glass to be broken. Only steel guarded doors holding back the darkness inside.

Steve slowed at the end of the hall, nodding to a door on your left. It was away from the others, down a short stretch of the hall on its own. Your heart sank when you realized why – twice the amount of locks, twice the security measures. Another prison cell.

You watched Steve curiously as he tapped a series of codes on the screen, revealing a small monitor projecting against the wall. You swallowed, stepping closer to the image of Bucky as he paced back and forth inside the room. His hands were free of the cuffs, but he was still coated in blood despite the sink sitting a few steps away.

“Buck?” Steve called. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Bucky paused, his gaze shifting to the door. You hadn’t realized how loud your heart was beating.

“Hi, Bucky,” you said, offering a smile before you realized he couldn’t see you through the door. He tensed, his stare centering in on the monitor in the top corner of the room. His projection met your eye as if he could bypass the door itself to find you. Still – he didn’t say a word. Instead, he resumed his pacing, his gaze fixating on the wall.

“Give him some time,” Steve said apologetically. “I’ll have Tony add your print to the wall so you can come back tomorrow.”

“That’s not necessary,” you said, unable to tear your eyes away from Bucky’s projection. You hadn’t noticed the cuts on his face when you caught the short glimpse of him in the landing bay or the bruising along his jaw. Your stomach twisted. “I’m going to stay here.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Y/n, you know I can’t open the door for you.”

“I know.”

Steve sighed, following your gaze. You could feel him studying you as you watched Bucky’s movements and you wondered how much of your grief read on your face, if he could see how badly it hurt you to watch Bucky be thrown in a cell after everything that happened to him. A glimpse of a smile touched the corner of Steve’s cheeks, not nearly enough to notice, but it was still there.

“I’ll bring you some blankets, okay?”

You glanced up at him, relieved he didn’t intend to fight you on this. You squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Steve.”

He gave you a short nod before he disappeared down the hall. Once you were alone, you slid down against the wall, settling in on the cold tile floors and you leaned your head to the door.

“I’m still here, Bucky,” you told him, watching the projection for his reaction. His eyes flickered to the door for only a second before he resumed his pacing. He knew you were there, even if he refused to acknowledge it. He knew. That was all that mattered.

***

It had been almost a week since you last saw Bucky standing in the doorway to your bedroom, half leaning on the frame and hair falling into his face as he told you he’d been assigned to an intel mission at a Hydra facility. He still had lines from your sweatshirt imprinted on his cheeks; his clothes ruffled from hours lying on the couch. One of the most feared men in history and he was nothing but impossibly sweet as he fiddled nervously with the creases in his metal hand.

The mission meant he’d be gone for a while – a few weeks at most – but it was the longest you’d spent apart since he first came to the Avengers. You hadn’t realized how much you’d come to rely on him, on his presence, until you were confronted with the absence of it. But you’d pressed on a smile and told him to go anyway. Movie night could wait. Dismantling the organization that stole decades of his life couldn’t. You understood and you told him as much. He only seemed to relax when you crossed the room to him and set your hand against his forearm – every tension in his body slipping from the muscle like running water under your touch.

You didn’t tell him how badly you wished it wasn’t him, that he shouldn’t have to be the one to walk back into the heart of Hydra. You didn’t tell him how much you wanted him to stay, to crawl back on the couch, to hold him and pretend for a little while longer that he was yours. And maybe, if it was only his vengeance he was after, you could have convinced him.

It only took a single glimpse of the brand on the inside of your wrist to cement his stance – a burn mark in the shape of Hydra’s beast upon your skin. He turned your hand over, running a thumb along the burn that would not seem to heal, a brand they’d marked on you months earlier. Bucky may have allowed himself to move on from the horror Hydra had done against him, but he couldn’t let go of the pain they’d inflicted on you.

It had only been a few days – your time held prisoner by Hydra – but it had felt like years. Tied up and bound. Tortured for information you didn’t have. MIA from a solo mission on Brussels, you were lucky the team found you when they did. It was the first time you saw true fear in Bucky’s eyes. On his knees, his hands on your cheeks and wiping away the blood, soot, and tears, begging you to look at him.

You never spoke a word of it or what happened, but something shifted between you and Bucky after that. Casual movie nights on the couch in the living room ended up under blankets in your bedroom, close enough to share body heat, close enough to lean against his shoulder and for him not to shy away. Instead of flinching away from touch, Bucky began to seek it out – his thigh pressed against your hip, a hand on your shoulder, his fingertips brushing against yours. It carried an aura of protection, but it was more than that – between his words and within his movements, it held a crippling fear that you’d be ripped away in an instant, like he couldn’t quite convince himself that you were saved that night.

You hadn’t found the courage to go on a mission since. Instead, you found new ways to be helpful to the team. Coding, hacking, using your skillset behind a computer to assist from afar. They all understood, but no one more than Bucky. He never asked if you were ready for the field again or pushed you to resume training. He was content to watch movies all day and bake undercooked pancakes and sit on the bench down by the lake.

It was moments like that that made you wonder if he’d take you as you were – even if you never stepped back into the field again, even if you lost the identity you’d tied so much of your life to. Even if you weren’t an Avenger anymore. If he’d take you at all.

You supposed it didn’t matter. Not in this moment, anyway. Bucky had done everything he could to make sure you knew you were never alone after you’d been rescued from Hydra. He’d slept on the couch outside your bedroom, waiting for the inevitable screams that would disrupt your dreams. He held you and rocked you until your exhaustion wore you back to sleep. He dragged you outside on walks and made your meals and brought you water. He laid in your bed with you and put on your favorite movies until you finally cracked a smile.

He saved you long after he carried you out of that cell. You were determined to do the same for him.

“Steve brought me blankets,” you told Bucky through the door as you tugged the navy blue comforter up around your shoulders. “It’s actually pretty cold out here and the floor is not as comfortable as one would expect.”

You laughed to yourself, stealing a short glimpse at the projector though Bucky remained still as marble. He sat on the edge of the cot in the corner of the room in an angle that didn’t exactly look to be any more comfortable than you were on the floor. You stretched your back, cracking your spine.

You’d been making idle conversation with yourself for the last several hours after Steve came back with the pillow and blankets. Your watch was the only indicator that night had crept in beyond the windowless hallway. You caught a yawn before it escaped.

“You know that blood will be a nightmare to remove from your hand if you leave it there too long,” you said, sliding down onto the floor and resting your head against the pillow. Bucky examined his left hand, flicking off a spec of dried blood onto the floor. You smiled, glad for the confirmation that he could hear you. “I’m sure you’ll feel better with it gone, anyway.”

You didn’t dare imagine whose blood was stained upon his hands or how many people he barreled through to earn as much as he did. There was a fresh pair of clothes sitting on the edge of his bed he had yet to change into – sitting instead in favor of the stealth suit still drenched in red.

“You can keep up the silent brooding thing, Buck, but please just wash that blood off, okay?” you asked, your voice softening away from the lighthearted inflection you’d carried. You watched as Bucky’s shoulders slumped, how he took a single glance towards the sink, before he clenched his hands and refused to move.

“Don’t do Hydra a service by punishing yourself for whoever’s blood is on your hands. They don’t deserve that.”

You didn’t know if that was his intention for refusing to clean the blood from his skin and metal, but you knew he was doing it for a reason. Whether it was guilt, remorse, or a purposeful reminder of whatever set him off, you didn’t know. You were usually better at reading Bucky than this, but you usually didn’t have a three-foot thick steel wall between you.

Despite the chill of the floors, exhaustion crept in. You’d hope to stay awake with him longer, especially knowing he’d get little to no sleep himself, but it was hard to stay awake when you were talking to the walls. Your eyes began to flutter closed and it was only then you heard the faucet release behind the door and the sound of running water. You smiled into your pillow before you fell asleep.

***

“... so that’s why you always go for Sam’s knees,” you explained, detailing your combat strategy against Sam in the training ring, hoping it might elicit some sort of response from Bucky. You didn’t need to look at the projector to figure it hadn’t made a difference.

Bucky was sitting on the ground on the furthest wall of the cell; his legs bent, forearms resting against his knees. His expression was unreadable – cold and unemotive – though you knew it was a mask. Something darker was rumbling inside his head, even if he refused to let you in. He’d managed to wash the blood from his hands and clean the cuts on his face, at least. It was progress, even if the fresh set of clothes still sat untouched on the cot he hadn’t slept on.

You bounced the tennis ball Sam brought you against the wall and caught it effortlessly in your hand.

“I’m a disaster at tennis,” you told him. “The scoring system is unnecessarily complicated for one thing. I usually end up whacking it like a baseball and sent it flying over the courts. No strategy. No aim. Just full force intensity.”

Rounding on the second full day of sitting outside Bucky’s cell, you’d resorted to unfiltered stories of whatever happened to pop into your head at the time. As long as you kept talking, as long as Bucky still knew you were there with him. Whether he found it a comfort or if it annoyed him into oblivion, you supposed it didn’t matter. You needed to prove to him that you wouldn’t abandon him at the first sign of trouble.

“You ever play tennis, Buck?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t answer. “Vision is unfairly good at it as he is with most things. Oh!” You sat up, bunching the blankets as a grin pushed at your cheeks. “What do you think about starting up a wiffleball team? Or kickball? Softball? Although, we’d have to split up you and Steve. Can’t be having two super soldiers on the same team. It would be a hell of a better than Stark’s idea of team building exercises. Pretty sure Parker’s still trying to recover from last year’s scavenger hunt.”

You grabbed the notebook from the bag Steve dropped off of your things and started to write down ideas. Pen scratched against the paper and you wondered whether Bucky could pick up on details like that, even muffled from a distance on the other side of a door. You stole a glance at the projector to find his head turned away from the camera; almost as if he had caught himself on the verge of a smile and made every effort to suppress it before it could be witnessed.

***

You spent your days sitting beside Bucky’s door. Steve and Sam brought you whatever snacks they could find in the pantry and a few hot meals every once in a while. Your collection of blankets started to pile enough that you didn’t feel the chill of the tiles anymore and you had enough pillows to resolve the kink in your neck you got on the first night.

Four total days on the other side of the door and Bucky had yet to say a word. Four days filled with mindless conversation, questions that went unanswered, silence you filled with humming as you doodled in your notebook. You never begged him to respond, never yelled or raised your voice, never so much as demanded answers from him for the blood he’d washed down the sink. You just wanted him to know he wasn’t alone – not in that cell, not ever again. You hoped he knew that, anyway.

It took until the end of the second day before you convinced him to change into the clothes left inside the cell. He’d done it overnight, long after you fell asleep as if to not raise attention to the fact that he was clearly listening to every word you said. Your cheeks ached from smiling when you saw him dressed in the clean clothes, his bloodied suit discarded in the corner of the room. He seemed to sit more comfortably in them, his body less restricted without the Kevlar and straps. You didn’t acknowledge it aloud, but it had felt like another step forward. A step closer to opening the door between you.

On the fifth day, you leaned against the wall, absentmindedly running your thumb along your burn mark. The raised edges of six tentacles, the skull at the center. Hydra’s brand upon your skin. You didn’t remember much about your time with Hydra – most of it blocked out from your memory or spent unconscious – but you remembered this. The searing pain of an iron rod fresh from the coals as it melted against your skin. A constant reminder of their ownership of you.

You’d only been their captive for a few days, but you often wondered whether you would ever free yourself of their chains. Months later and you had yet to get back in the field. Bucky had spent decades under their command and he was taking missions going right back in the belly of the beast. You couldn’t understand why your fear hadn’t subsided enough to do the same.

So you knew with absolute certainty, that you didn’t care whatever horrors Bucky had committed on the mission. You didn’t care how much of the blood he’d been drenched in was made of Hydra’s soldiers. Not after the hell they put both of you through.

But still—you knew he’d been cleared of the triggers. You knew Bucky had regained control of himself and his mind. He'd been on dozens of missions against Hydra in the years since he joined the Avengers. He was the one that led the team to rescue you from the Hydra base in Brussels.

You didn’t understand what could possibly set him off like this; to put him back into a state where he had such little control over his own actions that even Steve felt it was necessary to lock Bucky in a cell. A flight risk—that’s what Sam had called him. Did they think he would make a run for it? Would he actually leave you behind given the chance?

“They won’t tell me what happened,” you said quietly, unsure if Bucky could even hear you. You didn’t notice the slight shift in his movement on the projector, how his eyes turned to the door, his hair falling away from his face at the sudden shift in your tone.

“I don’t care what you did, Bucky. I’m not—” You sighed, pressing against the brand on your skin until it stung. “I’m not going to leave you, okay? I’ve already been a fugitive for you, Buck. I’ll do it again if I have to... if you’d let me.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “Is that why they’re keeping you in here? Are you trying to run again?” You knew better than to expect a response, so you gave him little time to answer.

“I can’t figure it out, Bucky. I don’t know why Steve won’t just tell me what happened or why you’re a prisoner in your own home. I don’t-- I don’t understand what’s going on but I... but I just wanted you to know that I’m here and that I—” you exhaled a heavy breath, enough that it lifted a weight from your chest, “and that I care about you, Bucky. Fugitive or not. Winter Soldier or not.”

You bite back the words you’d almost confessed, the extent of just how far you'd go for him, how much you’d give to him if he asked. As you rested your temple against the door, blankets drawn up to your chest, you dared a glimpse at the monitor.

As still as Bucky was, his focus was entirely on the door. The carefully constructed mask he’d been wearing faltered, revealing a slight part in his lips, a furrow in his brows, hesitancy in the blue of his eyes; an expression somewhere between disbelief and longing. But he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. And you felt your heart fracture under the strain.

In your lap, your phone flashed a low battery light. Bright red in the corner of your screen for only a second longer before it died entirely despite the charging cable currently attached at the port. You groaned, plugging it back in a dozen times before you noticed the frayed wires at the end – Sam's faulty cable. If you were going to keep talking to the walls, you’d at least need the mindless games on your phone to keep you company. It wouldn’t take long. Four minutes at most to run up to your room and back.

You brushed the tears from your eyes, sniffling past the congestion that had formed, as you began to push the blankets away. You glanced to the projector, where you noticed Bucky’s stare fixated on the door, though he kept his distance on the other side of the room.

“Bucky?” you called. “I’ll be right back, okay? Sam gave me his shitty charger.”

In the rustle of blankets and gathering of empty chip bags, you hadn’t noticed the footsteps beyond the door.

“Don’t go.”

You froze with an armful of used Tupperware containers. Wide eyed, you stared at the door, then to the vague shift of light near the floor. Confirmation on the monitor showed Bucky was standing right behind the door, his hands settled on the thick steel between you.

“Please,” his voice cracked in the disuse, “don’t go.”

You dropped everything in your hands and rushed back to the door. You nearly collided against it, looking to the monitor to make sure he was still there.

“Bucky?” You knew there was no use to try to open the door on your own, but it didn’t stop you from sliding your hands along the wall in search of the palm scanner Steve had used. “I can’t open the door. I don’t know how to—”

“No, don’t.” He paused, taking a single step back. “You shouldn’t. Steve was right to put me here.”

You paused, leaning your forehead against the door. He must have heard the gentle thump of it because he took another step closer and did the same. You wondered if he knew exactly where your hands were along the door, as if he could push through the entirety of the steel to get to you.

“What does that mean?” you pleaded, tired of the vague answers from men with good intentions. “What happened on that mission, Bucky? I know you have control again, so—”

“I don’t,” he replied flatly.

“Shuri swore the words were erased. It can’t still be—”

“I don’t have control, Y/n,” Bucky repeated with a heaviness you didn’t have a chance to prepare for. He sighed and you could feel the ache in his voice, the desperation, the pain. "Not when it comes to you.”

Your eyes flickered to the projector and you watched as Bucky hung his head. He curled his fingers along the door as if he might be able to warp the metal itself in an effort to reach you. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Tell me what happened,” you said slowly, a full step away from the door.

Bucky hesitated. “Not with the door between us.”

You flinched at the sound of footsteps as they began to echo from the end of the hall. Bucky sighed, taking a step back from the door because he understood what that meant: Steve was on his way with evening meals. You could smell the marinara sauce and oregano before you could make out the worry lines growing upon his face.

“Everything okay?” he asked slowly, studying your stance a few paces back from the door, your arms folded defensively. It only took a single glance to the projector to notice that something had shifted in Bucky.

“I need you to let him go,” you said as Steve placed Bucky’s meal in the small opening in the wall. He locked the slot behind it.

Steve shook his head. “I can’t do that, Y/n.”

“If you won’t release him, then at least lock me in there with him,” you argued, and even Bucky shot a concerned look at the door. “You know he isn’t a danger to me, Steve. I don’t care what he did on that mission... Bucky would never hurt me.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. He planted his hands against his hips as he turned to the projector. “Buck?”

Bucky gave a short nod to the camera, stepping back against the furthest wall in good faith that he would not make a run for it.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” Steve warned as he set his hand against the palm reader by the door. A blue light flared under his hand until several green lights flashed around the edges of the door, the locks slowly unclicking with each signal. When the door opened, Steve stepped back. “Two hours, Y/n.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, staring at the thin opening into the cell. Your heart was racing suddenly, pounding so terribly you knew Steve must be able to hear it. It echoed into your ears, pulsed down into your fingertips. You couldn’t place what was driving the adrenaline, but you knew for certain it wasn’t fear.

Holding your breath, you stepped inside the cell. Not daring to look at Bucky just yet, you could still feel his eyes on you.

When the door latched behind you, you flinched and stumbled forward a few paces into the room. You didn’t use to be so jumpy. Another one of Hydra’s gifts. Bucky was the only one who watched you with a level of understanding. He never carried pity within his gaze.

Bucky shifted at the edge of the room and you finally allowed yourself to meet his eye. The bruising along his jaw and the cuts on his face had almost healed completely in the days he spent in the cell, though his hair was untamed, his beard growing in a vague shadow along his cheeks. He held his left arm cautiously behind his back, as if he might be afraid it could act on its own accord.

There was something off in his eyes. The way he looked at you, you would have thought it had been months since he stood at the edge of your bedroom with that worried look on his face. The gentle shades of calming blue were storming over, filled with deep ocean currents and treacherous rainfall. It wasn’t until you stepped forward and Bucky retreated, that you recognized what it was – the same look in his eye when he crawled on his knees to you the day he rescued you from Hydra – fear.

“Bucky?” you called timidly, daring another step forward. His back was against the wall, his distance as far as he could manage, and still, he looked as though the act of withholding himself from you was an act of violence within itself.

“Buck? Are you—”

Two strides was all it took to reach you. His arms encased around your waist, lifting you into the air as he stumbled back against the wall for support. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, his breath hot to your skin. Your hands hovered helplessly over his shoulders, unsure of what to do. Until, you felt a slight tremor shake along his spine, slowly moving through his body until he wavered into a muffled cry against your collar.

His grip on you was so tight it almost hurt, but it was a gentle sort of ache you were more than willing to endure. Your hands settled along his shoulders – one massaging into the tense tissue of his right, the other rested tenderly over the fusion of metal to flesh. Your lips grazed along his hair and despite the days between, you could still smell the soft undertones of coconut in his shampoo.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered and it damn near tore your heart in two.

“Sorry?” you repeated, rubbing circled along his spine. “Sorry for what, Bucky?”

“I should have found you sooner. I should have killed them before they—” Bucky bit his tongue, pressing his nose firmer into the crook of your neck. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

Flashes of the concrete room you’d been kept in covered your vision. Damp and dark, with blood stains in the corners and chains around your wrists. Flesh ruined and raw—burning under chaffing metal and iron rods. Blood and tears and fear and dread and the hollow consuming emptiness of acceptance.

Flashes of Bucky breaking through the door, of the stunned relief upon his face as he skidded on his knees to you. The contrast of temperature between his hands as he held your face. His lips as they touched your forehead, his thumbs as they brushed at the tears on your cheeks. Bucky carrying you away from that hell – holding you, chasing away your demons and nightmares. His constant presence beside you as a guardian, a protector.

“What happened on the mission, Bucky?” you asked again, tears swelling in your eyes.

Slowly, Bucky lowered you back to the floor, though he did not lose contact with you. He kept a hand at the base of your spine as he guided you to the cot and took a seat at the edge of the thin mattress. You sat down beside him, gathering his hand in your own and tracing along the lines in his palm until he found the strength to take in another breath.

“We infiltrated the Hydra base as planned,” Bucky started, his gaze fixated on the floor. “We were only there to extract intel from their mainframes. It wasn’t supposed to be a combat mission.” He shivered and you held onto his hand a little tighter. “We were in this room just... surrounded by monitors. Sam was trying to break through the firewall to download what we needed but the screens all went dark before he could finish.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his face contorting as if the memory itself was causing him physical pain. “They clearly knew we were there. Hell, we expected to have to fight our way out but... this voice came over the intercom, promising that Hydra still had leverage over me even without the trigger words.”

You parted your lips to argue, but swallowed them back. Bucky still had yet to meet your eye, but you could see the devastation on his face, the agony it took to recall Hydra’s last thread of control they maintained over him.

“They had... footage of you,” Bucky said and he must have felt the jolt in your grip, because it was the only thing that allowed him to finally look at you. It was then that you saw how badly the strain of red had consumed the blue of his eyes, how worry lines seemed to etch into his features and his lips had been chewed near raw. He lowered his head as if in confession. “They must have taken it when they had you prisoner. There was so much blood and I’d... I’d never heard you scream like that before.”

You closed your eyes in an attempt to drown out the demons hiding within the shadows of your dreams, the memories of those days held under lock and key. Most nights, you could still hear beads of water dripping from the pipe in the corner of the cell, spilling into the pool of murky pink water. You fought against the memory before it had a chance to pull you back in.

Opening your eyes again, you focused on Bucky. You didn’t dare ask him for the details of what he saw on that tape. You could only imagine it mirrored the horrors in your dreams. You squeezed at his hand again, urging him to continue, and you held him tight as you brushed away tears from your eyes.

“They put it on every monitor in the room,” Bucky continued, desperately trying to swallow back the rock in his throat. “It was... everywhere and I... I just lost it. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I just... attacked. I killed all of them, Y/n. Every Hydra agent I could get my hands on. As bloody and as violent as I could and even then, it wasn’t enough. I wanted them to suffer.”

His thumb grazed along the brand on your wrist. He turned to you, his focus entirely on the burn mark until he covered it with the palm of his hand.

“That’s why Steve put me here,” Bucky explained dejectedly, “because if it weren’t for that door, I would have tracked down every last one of them and gutted them in the streets. Rogue assassination isn’t exactly a good look on my pardon, even if it is against war criminals.”

“And now?” you asked, nearly afraid of his answer. Bucky shook his head, moving to turn away from you, but you held firm to his hands. It stilled him in his tracks. “You can’t stay in here forever, Bucky.”

He laughed at that, something dark and humorless, as if that might have been his intention all along.

“I spent days outside that door. You wouldn’t so much as say a word to me.” You released his hands, standing from your position on the bed and moving to pace around the room. You followed the path Bucky had taken within his first few hours inside the cell. It was as if tracks had been worn into the floors. You paused at the end of the room, turning over your shoulder. “Is this your idea of penance?”

Bucky didn’t respond.

“But it’s not for killing those Hydra agents, is it?”

He clenched his jaw, his eyes trailing down to the floor. “I knew it was bad, but when I saw that footage...”

“That was not your fault, Bucky,” you said firmly without so much as an ounce of hesitation.

“You spent five days like that, Y/n. Five days,” he shot back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bloodied and bound. Tortured. Terrified out of your goddamn mind and—and alone!”

When he stood, he towered over you, his chest rising rapidly, his hands curling into fists, but you did not cower. Amongst all of your fears, Bucky Barnes was never one of them.

“I would have given anything... anything to get you back.” Bucky sank down to his knees, something fracturing in his resolve as he crumbled. “I would have given another seventy years to Hydra if they would have spared you even a second of the hell they put you though. Do you understand that? Because seeing you in that much pain...  I thought it was going to rip me to shreds. It almost did.”

His eyes were clouded over in tears as you slowly bent down to meet him on the floor. The tile was cold, even through the thin layer of leggings and you could feel every nick and stone in the surface as you crawled to him.

Tenderly, you pressed your hands against Bucky’s cheeks, guiding his gaze to yours. The muscle of his jaw clenched under your palms and it seemed as though he was preparing himself for the final blow, for your confirmation that he’d been too late that day to save you, that you damned him to hell alongside every one of the Hydra agents that dared to lay a hand upon you. Instead, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his forehead.

You lingered there for a moment, holding him as he fought against tears threatening to pull him under. He started to shake, his arms circling at your waist, and you peppered your lips along his hairline, over the crown of his head, to his cheekbones, and between his eyes.

“You saved me, Bucky,” you told him with a sincerity you’d hoped he could hear, “that day from Hydra and long after. Again and again. Every night when I wake up screaming. Every morning making pancakes in the kitchen and afternoons watching movies. You saved me.”

Disbelief shown in his eyes, breaking through the cloud of tears. He held his breath as you pulled back, your thumbs brushing gingerly along his cheeks.

“Don’t keep yourself locked in here for me. Don’t ask me to blame you for the pain Hydra inflicted. Please, Bucky.”

Slowly, as if it took most of his energy to do so, he nodded. Eyes closing, tears slipping down his cheeks and against your palms, you pulled him into your arms. You didn’t know how long you laid on the floor with him, holding him, soothing him. All you knew was you were wrapped in his arms, you could feel his breath and the steady rise of his chest, and he wasn’t alone.

Steve came by two hours later as he promised. You could hear the scuffle of his shoes down the hall and how Bucky flinched at the sound. His grip on you squeezed a little tighter.

“You ready, Y/n?” Steve’s voice came through the speakers.

Bucky lifted his head from your chest, meeting your eye. He gave you a short nod, a clenched ache in his jaw as he slowly started to release you from his hold, but you didn’t let go. His brows narrowed, confused, and you held his gaze as you called back to Steve, “I'm not leaving until Bucky does.”

Steve sighed and you could hear the clicking of locks as he opened the door. He stood in the frame, hands on his hips. “How long is that going to be, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed, his gaze shifting from you to Steve. He hung his head in shame. “I’m okay, Steve. I promise.”

“He’s not a flight risk anymore,” you added, soothing a hand along Bucky’s hair. “It’s over.”

“You’re sure?” Steve asked, unconvinced. He’d seen the footage, too. He knew how it felt to watch your torture displayed on screen, to be surrounded by men who willingly inflicted that pain upon you. It didn’t matter whether it was their hand or not. You wondered if there was a guilt in punishing Bucky for avenging you, if under different circumstances and the absence of red tape and the burden of leadership, if Steve would have joined him.

“I’m not going to leave her, Steve. Not for anything,” Bucky muttered defeatedly. It was the only reason he agreed not to track down every Hydra agent he could get his hands on – because you asked him not to, because you needed to let this go and you needed him to absolved the misplaced guilt he carried for it.

“Okay,” Steve said, pushing the door open. There would be contingencies; guards monitoring the exits, FRIDAY tracking his whereabouts in the compound, a responsibility on your shoulders if he were to run. It said nothing of the SHIELD agents’ trust he would have to earn again, if he ever had it to be begin with.

“Come on,” you urged, tugging Bucky’s hands and bringing him to his feet. You didn’t let go as he stood and there must have been some relief in that because Bucky squeezed your hand.

“Take the freight elevator,” Steve suggested. “I’ll keep the SHIELD agents out of your way. Tony and I will sort out a cover for what they saw.”

You nodded and you followed Steve into the hallway. Bucky paused at the threshold, inhaling a heavy breath as if he were breathing fresh air for the first time in days. Steve pressed out a tight smile, setting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. There was an apology in his glance, one Bucky seemed to understand well, because he gave him a short nod. It was all they needed.

With that, Steve disappeared down the hall where he came.

“Hey,” you nudged Bucky’s shoulder, forcing a smile out of him once you were alone. “We’re a few movies behind on our list, you know.”

Bucky laughed at that. You hadn’t realized how long it had been since you heard that kind of joy from him and you heart strained a little, enough that you curled up tighter against his side and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Been a little occupied with other things, haven’t we?” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. His gaze flickered back to the reinforced cell and before a frown could tug away his smile, you pulled him gently by the hand down the hall the way Steve suggested.

“Then we’ll just have to make up for the lost time,” you shrugged, squeezing his hand.

“Anything you want,” Bucky sighed. “As long as you’ll let me hold you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you tried not to let it show on your face. But Bucky smiled to himself as if he could hear every thump inside your chest. It was nice to see him smile again, to see the blood washed from his hands and the guilt cleansed from his mind.

This was Bucky as you knew him, as he was at his core. Protective near to a fault. Capable of so much kindness and joy beyond the trauma he endured. Resilient enough to laugh moments after release from a cell he’d been locked in by his best friend.

You wondered if maybe, through all of it, if he might actually be yours. Because you were certainly his.

---

read the prequel here ✨

——

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Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

   Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to. 

   Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

   You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face. 

   You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

   Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

   Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

   The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

   Scum. All of them. 

   You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

   “Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

   “When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

   “I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

   He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

   Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

   His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

   You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them. 

   Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

   You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

   Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

   Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

   Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

   “Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

   You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

   Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

   He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

   You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

   You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled. 

   “There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

   Like a moth to a flame.

   “How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

   Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” 

   The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine. 

   A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

   The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line. 

   Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,” 

   Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

   You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

   The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

   The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

   Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here. 

   Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

   So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you. 

   The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business. 

   “Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

   You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

   Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup. 

   Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse. 

   Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

   You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose. 

   You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out. 

   Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you. 

   This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

   Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

   “Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

   Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though. 

   You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features. 

   “You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

   His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

   You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

   You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

   “Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

   “Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

   Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

   He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

   “I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

   “I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

   And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short. 

   It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

   What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

   And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone. 

   You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop. 

   You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

   You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited. 

   You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped. 

   “You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

   You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face. 

   “Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

   You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

   You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it. 

   You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

   Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

   You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,” 

   “You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

   Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

   “Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

   “Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

   “Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

   “Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself. 

   “Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

   He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

   “You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

   When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute. 

   “Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail. 

   He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness. 

   Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

   He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

   “No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

   “No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

   You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation. 

   You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

   “No,” 

   “Yes,” 

   Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark. 

   “I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

   You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

   Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,” 

   You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

   Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

   You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

   You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

   You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

   “It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

   “What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

   “Couldn’t,” 

   A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

   “Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

   His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

   “I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

   You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

   He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

   “Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

   “Yes,”

   “Then what?” 

   “I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

   “Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

   “It doesn’t,”

   “Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

   He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee. 

   “Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

   “I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

   You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

   “I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

   “I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

   “Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

   You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

   “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

   “Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

   “Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

   You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

   The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

   Then his lips crashed against yours. 

   You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you. 

   “So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

   His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning. 

   You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

   Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

   “Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

   The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily. 

   Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands. 

  The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him. 

   You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts. 

   His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

   Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

   “I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

   The light went off.

   You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,” 

   Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,” 

   He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

   You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

   “Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

   “Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

   The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line. 

   Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

   “Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

   You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God. 

   “Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

  Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

   “Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

   Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area. 

   Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face. 

   A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

   “Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

   “That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

   “But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

   Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

   You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t. 

   “Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

   You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

   You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears. 

   He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

   But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

   He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

   Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours. 

   “Swallow,” he ordered.

   But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

   “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

   He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard. 

   He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

   You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold. 

   At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

   “Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

   You nodded again.

   “I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

   “Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

   Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

   “This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

   You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

   You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

   Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

   He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

   “Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

   The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

   “Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

   He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

   “Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

   He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself. 

   So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

   Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

   “There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

   Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

   “Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

   You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

   When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

   Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time. 

   You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

   His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

   Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

   He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

   Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

   You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

   He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

   “Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

   You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body. 

   “Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

   He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy. 

   He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him. 

   He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

   “What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

   At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

   He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

   “Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

   A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

   Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

   He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

   Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth. 

   You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

   You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core. 

   “What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

   You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

   He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

   You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

   “Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

   You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

   “Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

   “Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

   You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

   “What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

   You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

   His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

   “’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

   “Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

   You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

   He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

   Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

   He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

   He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

   He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

   You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

   “I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

   You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

   He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

   He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

   “Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

   He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

   “Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

   His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

   You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?” 

   He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

   “Then cum,” 

   He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

   Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

   He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind. 

   “Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

   He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him. 

   You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word. 

   And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

   Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

   His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

   “Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

   He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

   “Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

   He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

   You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

   He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course. 

   After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

   “I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

   He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

   “I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

   Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

   You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after. 

I've been thinking about a priest trying to "save" the reader from demon Bucky, only to fail miserably and gets forced to watch Bucky fuck the reader in his own church

Pairing: Demon Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut, kinda public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism Minors DNI.

Word count: less than 1.5 k (?)

A/N: Written on my phone while at work. Will edit later. Do not copy,rewrite, translate or repost my drabbles.

You're sitting in Father Roger's office wearing a demure white lace dress. The matching stockings go up to your thighs, held in place by a pair of wine red garters. Buckys favorites. He loves how innocent you appear when you dress like this.

Your eyes hover over the bookshelf to your left, it's filled with religious literature. Even more books are stacked on his desk. Various pens and crosses are scattered across the uneven piles of paperwork. The overhead light catches specks of dust that dance in the still air. The faint scent of damp wood seeps into your nose.

You eye a particularly pretty cross, your hand drawn to it. Touching the tapered edge, you giggle when you feel a spark sting your fingertips. Withdrawing your hand, you continue to study the room while you wait.

You hum under your breath, perking up when you hear footsteps approaching. Straightening up, you smooth down the front of your dress.

Father Rogers closes the door behind him with a heavy sigh. "I'm so glad you could make it today."

He steps into your line of vision. You give him an alluring grin, widening your eyes ever so slightly. "Of course Father," you say, keeping your voice soft.

Folding your hands on your lap, you blink up at him. Steve watches you closely as he takes his seat, his eyes hardening when he sees the finger shaped bruises decorating your neck.

"There have been rumors that you were seen at the old church and that you may have been engaging in--," he huffs, removing his glasses, he pinches the bridge of his nose. In all his years, he never thought he would be having this conversation.

You lean forward, placing your palms on his desk. "Yes Father."

"Excuse me." He says, his brows furrowing.

You get out of the chair, keeping your hands on the smooth wooden surface. "I did go to the church. I did call for Bucky. And those activities they're whispering about are all true." You smile proudly.

Steve exhales sharply. He tosses his glasses down and grabs your hands. "Child, do you know what you have done? It's not too late, I can help you. We can rid you of this demonic presence."

His impassioned rant fades when you tilt your head to the side. Your eyes drifting over his shoulder. You grin, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. "You hear that baby. He can rid me of your demonic presence."

Steve gawks at you, carefully withdrawing his hands. The sweet scent of lilacs and vanilla fill the musty air. The lights flicker changing from the dull yellow glow to an unnatural red.

Steve turns his head, startling in his chair. He curses under his breath, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as Bucky emerges from the shadows.

"Mmm language Father," Bucky purrs, gliding across the room.

He stands behind you, pressing down on your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. "Tell me, Father, just how do you plan on getting rid of me."

Goosebumps prickles across your skin as his large hands push your dress up your thighs to your waist. He plucks the garter, the band snapping on your tender skin. You hiss, loving the delicious sting. Bucky palms your ass. You hear shifting and rustling behind you.

Steve raises his hand, starting to form a cross. Bucky laughs a beautiful musical tone that makes you shiver. You're still not used to that mesmerizing sound.

Steve flinches, clutching his ears. He gasps when his hands are pulled down. His seat moving across the floor, the wheels squeaking and rattling as he's pushed to the desk.

Bucky licks up the side of your neck. He grips your hips and pushes into your slick walls with one firm thrust. Pleasure blooms from your core as he stretches you. Fuck, you never feel a burn with him, just pure bliss. You drop to your elbow, moaning as you blatantly stare at an aghast Steve.

Bucky grunts, snapping his hips into yours. "I'm so deep in her. She's so fucking tight." He lifts your hips and you cry out his name.

"You hear that Father," Bucky asks, a smirk forming as Steve struggles against his invisible bonds. Bucky pulls you flush against his chest, each stroke of his cock pushing you to your tiptoes.

He places his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. The salacious wet sloshing of your cunt echoing in the small room is vulgar and filthy and it makes you even wetter, your slick dripping around his cock.

"Sounds like she doesn't want to let me go." Bucky taunts, lifting your dress, exposing your swollen pussy. Steves's eyes darken, a hoarse grunt caught in his throat.

"Her sweet cunt keeps sucking me back in." He groans, fucking into you harder and faster. You're not listening, too focused on the pleasure burning through your veins.

His tail wraps around your belly, keeping you still. Buckys mouth drops to your ear. "You know, I bet the good father is hard right now, bet his cock is aching to feel your tight pussy wrapped around him."

He flicks his wrist, lifting Steve out of the chair. Your grin hidden by Bucky's rough palm, he's right. Steve can't hide his lust-blown pupils, he definitely can't hide his cock straining the thin fabric of his pants.

You can help the moan ripping through your chest. Buckys large body surrounding you, Steve's piercing eyes on you. It's so debauched but you love every second of it.

"Aw look at that," he darkly chuckles. Bucky pulls your dress down exposing your tits, his thumb teasing your pebbled nipple while his long dexterous fingers circle your clit. "He wants you, little one, but you belong to me."

"Yes, yes I'm yours, all yours Bucky," you pant.

He nips at your bruised throat, his hips slapping into you so fast you're getting dizzy. It's too much, you're so close, so fucking close.

"All mine. Let's show him how pretty you look when you cum."

Steve crashes to the floor, his head tilted back as the desk flies across the room. His gaze locked on your pussy. "Cum for him, little one, let him see why your pussy is better than salvation. " He says, his fingers spreading your folds so Steve can see his large, thick cock pushing into your sopping core.

You clench down with a cry. It's a visceral reaction, the knot unraveling in your cunt, your body tensing as you fall apart.

"Good girl." Bucky groans, his deep voice rumbling across your skin. " Don't you agree, Steve?"

A sly grin cuts across his face, his blue eyes flickering to a deep black. "She's a very good girl."

He stands, shedding his cloak. "Now it's my turn to ruin her sweet cunt."

*****

Part 1

“Sleepyhead”

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like to be touched but when you accidentally fall asleep on him one night he realizes he could never get tired of your touch

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

Word count: 1175

Bucky didn't like to be touched. He spent most of his life with others controlling his mind and body, so now that he had freedom he preferred that no one touched him. Everyone respected his choice and never touched him unless told so

Well that was until tonight

It was actually an accident. Movie night at the compound always left you extremely sleepy but this night you couldn't make it back to your bed. You didn't know how or even when but soon enough you were falling asleep with your head resting on Bucky's shoulders.

He tensed at first, surprised at the sudden contact, but he knew you didn't mean to do it, plus your hair smelled like strawberries so he sighed and let it be. If he was being honest, Bucky always had a soft spot for you. You were actually one of the few people that he could have a conversation with without feeling like you were walking on eggshells around him. Although you guys weren’t super close, your friendship always made people wonder if there was something more between you two. Maybe it was that lingering looks he would give you when you weren’t looking. Or maybe it was the way you always put a blanket on him when he fell asleep in random places. 

You spent the entire night with your head on his shoulder and as the movie finished and the others went back to their rooms, Bucky sat still. Frozen and unsure what to do. "Are you going to bed Buck?" Steve asked when he noticed the lack of movement from his best friend

"What am I supposed to do? Is it rude to wake her up?" He asked in a clueless whisper

"you can wake her up or carry her to her room" Steve chuckled as he began walking to his room, "you decided. I'm going to bed. Night buck"

"Goodnight" He whispered looking at your sleeping silhouette beneath your blanket. He bit his lip, slowly getting up and carrying you, making extra sure to not wake you up. 

As he walked down the hall he couldn't help but stare at you. You were cradled in his arms like it was the safest place in the world. A feeling of unfamiliar warmth grew in his chest as he watched sleep. Your bedroom wasn't far, actually it was right next to his, but Bucky had never been in it. He stood outside unsure if he should enter.

"You literally carried her over here Barnes get a grip" he whispered to himself as he reached for the doorknob. He didn’t know how but your room was exactly how he would’ve imagined it. Pictures of you and your friends filling the walls, a large bookshelf that held collections of your favorite novels, as well as an even large bed filled with pillows. The only thing out of place was a small vintage record player in the corner by the windows. Bucky chuckled as he moved to the bed, gently placing you on the soft red sheets. 

He carefully moved your hair out of your face, staring at you for a quick second before getting up to leave. The sound of his feet shuffling on the floor woke you up. You slowly opened your eyes as you looked around the room, wondering how you got there. “Bucky?” You groaned as you spotted him, near the door about to leave. 

He turned around quickly, not expecting you to be awake, “You fell asleep, go back to bed” He whispered. You let out a confused groan as you stretched your arms, “How did I get here?”

Bucky let out a deep breath before walking to the bed, hesitantly sitting on the edge, “You fell asleep on me so I bought you in here. The couch can be very uncomfortable” 

Your eyes widened in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-” He cut you off with a chuckle, “Don’t worry about it Doll. I don’t mind.” Your heart fluttered in at the nickname. He smiled at you bashful expression, “Alright well I’ll leave you to sleep, Goodnight Doll” 

You watched as he got up from the bed, walking towards the door. “Goodnight Buck” You whispered as he closed the door. As you laid in bed your brain was flooded with thoughts. You had never seen Bucky as anything other than a friend but something about the way he looked in the moonlight that creeped from your windows made you smile bigger than you ever did before. You sighed trying to get some sleep but no matter how much you tossed and turned, sleep wasn’t coming as easy as before.

Bucky surprisingly had the same problem. Every time he closed his eyes, flashes of your face took over. The bed felt empty. It was like now that he knew what it was like to have someone fall asleep next to him, he could never go back. He stared at the ceiling annoyed that he couldn’t sleep. He glanced at the clock by his bedside. 2:10 A.M 

“Fuck it” He said with a deep sigh as he got up, making his way to your room. He wasn’t expecting a reply but still knocked softly. 

You quickly got up, opening the door an inch, “Hi” You whispered, a smiling forming on your face when you realized it was Bucky

“Hi” He smiled, “Um this might so weird but can I-” He paused trying to find the right words, “Do you mind if I-” 

You bit your lip in amusement, “Do you wanna sleep with me?” Your stomach did backflip and the thought. He let out a breath of relief that you knew what he was going to ask, “Yes please”

“Sure’ You nodded your head as you opened the door wider. Nothing was said as you both climbed into the bed, wrapping yourselves in blankets. You could tell Bucky was trying his hardest not to make you uncomfortable, staying on the far side of the bed as he rested his head on your pillow. You turned to your side, catching eye contact with him, “Can we cuddle?” You asked hesitantly, unsure if you were pushing the limits by asking. 

He smiled as he lifted his arm to let you move closer. You quickly moved closer, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. “Let me know if you want to stop. I know you don’t like to be touched” You mumbled as you traced the outline of his dog tags. He laughed, “I don’t think I could ever get tired of your touch Doll” 

You lifted your head slightly to look at him. You watched as a soft blush took over his face, “Do you want to go on a date with me?” he asked

You nodded your head, quickly kissing his cheek, “sure but we should probably get some sleep first” You joked as you laid back on his chest. He chuckled, kissing your forehead as you both fell asleep.

all the good things

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky's been more than a little happy recently. sam thinks it has something to do with the pretty girl on the team.

author's note: based on a prompt and idea sent in by a lovely anon of mine, "i haven't seen him smile like that in ages." hope u like it x

It was a stupid lie.

One that Sam thought would be funny and harmless and okay, maybe a little cruel, but harmless regardless.

It was supposed to be harmless.

Because Bucky never smiled like that. Never looked so happy.

And Sam noticed it.

He noticed it the morning they had to leave for Germany.

“Plane’s all loaded. Tony said he’ll meet us in Berlin. Everyone ready?”

Clint groaned, “We’ve been ready since your five a.m. wake up call, Rogers.”

“Why was that necessary again?” Natasha asked.

Steve narrowed his eyes, “You know why.”

“We’re not always late, Steve. Cut us some slack and Clint - Clint don’t you dare take my spot. This is like Moscow all over again —“

Sam zoned them out because he noticed Bucky standing there. Right by the door with his hands twitching and he knew something was up.

Something that involved a really pretty girl, dragging herself in all late with heavy, sleepy eyes. You looked like you hadn’t slept all night and something about it made Sam want to laugh.

He didn’t though.

He couldn’t.

Not when you dropped your head on Bucky’s chest like that.

Sam watched as his hands stopped twitching.

“‘m so tired.”

“Yeah? Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up so late watching those reruns,” Bucky pointed out.

You grumbled something and Bucky laughed.

“I got her bag, man.” Sam interrupted.

Bucky looked over at him and nodded.

“I got her,” he quickly said, without thinking. “Got you, right, Y/N?”

“Mhm. Got me, Buck.”

Bucky smiled and Sam noticed that smile didn’t move from his face for a long time. A good twenty minutes. He didn’t know why he was paying attention to them so much. Maybe because he knew something was there. Something good was there between them and Sam liked when his friends had good things.

Even if those good things came during a ten hour plane ride.

“Alright, so Fury set us up in this hotel across the club. Tony said it gets pretty crazy around there, so going undercover will be no problem. However, we do need to watch out for these guys,” Steve handed out some profiles. “Ex-assassins. Pretty intense. Last Fury heard of ‘em they were in Chicago doing some high intel work for —“

You walked in, yawning and took a seat right next to Bucky. To everyone else, it seemed normal. You always sat next to Bucky and you always looked like that when you did. All bright-eyed and happy. Sam just didn’t know if the team knew what that was because they were too focused on Steve.

Sam focused on you though.

Focused on the way your head fell on Bucky’s shoulder and focused on the way Bucky moved his hand so you could look at the profiles together.

“Sleep well?” Bucky murmured.

“Yeah, yeah. Missed you though.”

Sam acted like he couldn’t hear them.

Like he hadn’t heard them.

But he had and he did and he needed to talk to Steve about it because he couldn’t be the only one noticing them, right? Everyone had eyes just like he did so they must have noticed.

They must have.

At least Steve would’ve.

“There’s something going on between them,” Sam tried explaining to Steve in the middle of the market. They were in some farmers market in the middle of Berlin. “I’m telling you, man, you —“

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, Bucky’s —“ Steve sighed. “He’s tryna figure it out. Doesn’t think he deserves her.”

Sam took a sip of his coffee.

“And you haven’t tried convincing him that he does? Just - just look at em’” he nudged his head over to you.

You were walking around the market with Bucky beside you. It looked like you were trying to keep an eye out, get a good glimpse of the area surrounding the club, but really couldn’t when one of the workers stopped you. Stopped to talk about some fruit he was serving and Bucky stopped too. Wrapped his arm around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

Sam knew he had to do something when you reached out and instinctively tangled your hand in Bucky’s hair. The worker said something that made you two laugh and Bucky turned his face into your neck to stop from laughing too much. From smiling too much.

“I haven’t seen him smile like that in ages.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed.

So Sam had to do something. He had too and alright, maybe he hadn’t gone about it the right way, but it got him where he wanted and that’s all that really mattered.

Sam swore he’d never seen Bucky so pissed off before though.

“Is she getting it?” Bucky asked.

They were at that stupid club. The one that was about to get ransacked by those ex-assassin assholes if they didn’t move fast enough. Bucky was at one end of the bar while you were at the other, trying to get some code from some German guy. Sam passed by to make sure things were going smoothly.

“Yeah, she’s trying too. He won’t stop flirting with her though.”

“Flirting?”

“Yeah.”

Sam watched as Bucky’s gaze fell.

“Is she flirting back?”

“Think so. Think she’s trying to get his number and code in one go. Pretty impressive if you ask me.”

Bucky’s fist clenched and Sam mentally praised himself. He shouldn’t have because yeah, he lied, but it was harmless, okay? And just because you weren’t flirting with stupid German guy didn’t mean he couldn’t lie about it because stupid American guy wasn’t making any moves either. So, getting him a little pissed wasn’t going to hurt anybody.

Except maybe the ex-assassin assholes who walked through the door. Sam believed Bucky knocked all five of them out in less than ten minutes.

Steve didn’t even have to come in and Clint and Natasha stayed on the roof. Tony too.

No one got hurt the entire night.

Except maybe Bucky.

And you because the next morning on the plane Bucky wouldn’t speak with you.

“Hey, Buck,” you greeted. “Someone didn’t come to my room last night to watch our reruns.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

“Buck?”

You looked at him.

“Hey, Buck, I’m talking to you.”

You tugged on his sleeve and he didn’t budge.

“Grumpy,” you teased. “Grumpy, hey, we don’t take off for another 10 minutes so why don’t stop staring out the window and look at me? Hm?”

“Don’t you have some German guy to text?’ Bucky shot back. “Real shame if he didn’t hear from you before you left the country.”

Bucky wanted to scoff. He wanted to scoff so bad.

“German guy? What German guy? Buck I —“

“Can’t even reply to my text when we’re one floor apart, but you’d do long-distance with him?”

“Long-distance? Who said anything about long distance and what German guy?”

You waited for him to say something and he didn’t.

“What German guy, Buck? And would you stop grumbling things under your breath and just look at me? Please.”

Your hand went to his jaw and you turned it to face you.

Bucky removed your hand from his skin.

You sighed and a part of you wanted to be irritated, it really did, but he was just upset. He looked really upset and you didn’t want to make him more upset, so you didn’t push. Not too much anyway but there was still a misunderstanding and you needed to fix it.

Now. You needed to fix it now.

So you got up and took a seat on his lap. Right on his thigh and rested your back on the window.

“That isn’t safe.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “Pretty sure I’m safer here than there. Don’t ya think?”

Bucky didn’t say anything.

You held back a grin.

“Now how about you tell me what’s got you all grumpy? Hm? I can see that little crinkle on your forehead and you know —“ you smoothed it out with your thumb. “You know how much I don’t like that.”

“Y/N…”

“I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me, Buck. Communication, remember?”

He remembered.

“You could’ve told me you wanted to…see other people. I know we aren’t together and I know it’s stupid that I’m being like this and if you want to be with German guy than —“

“What German guy?”

Bucky looked away from you.

“What German guy, Buck? There was…is no German guy. There’s no one but —“

“That guy from the club. The one you were flirting with.”

You were taken aback for a moment and stayed quiet. Really, you didn’t know why you stayed as quiet as you did for as long as you did, but Bucky must’ve thought that he was right when you did. That your silence was an I caught you moment because he started moving you off his lap. Started unwrapping your arms from around his neck but you stayed put.

“I wasn’t flirting with him. I would never —“

Bucky scoffed.

And you’d be mad, you really would, but he was just hurt. He was hurt so you leaned forward and nudged your nose against his cheek. Against his stubble.

“Hey, grumpy, don’t do that. You know I’d only flirt with you.”

“Sam said —“

“And Sam jokes a lot. What makes you think he wasn't joking?”

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“You really think I’d do that to you?”

Bucky sighed, “No, no I know you wouldn’t. I guess it just —”

Sam cleared his throat and Bucky’s head shot to him. There was a smug grin on his face and Bucky immediately went, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No you’re not.”

“I am. I can’t believe he would...you really...“

And he didn’t have to continue for you to know what he wanted to say. You really didn’t flirt with him? You really didn’t want him? It was written all over his face and all you had to do was tighten your arms around his neck. Card your fingers through the back of his hair for him to get the message.

His head fell on your chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Am crazy about you, darlin’,” he looked up at you. “Just thought I lost you before I could make you mine.”

You stopped breathing.

“You wanna be mine, right?”

You blinked for a few seconds then pushed him back into the seat, kissing him a little too hard. Yeah, grumpy, I wanna be yours, you squeaked out because you were that excited. That giddy and Bucky laughed against your lips. Laughed and pressed his lips against that beautiful smile of yours even harder because he’d only been dreaming about kissing you like this for months. You even wanted to add that you’ve wanted to be his, well, since the first time you caught him watching reruns of that stupid baking show you always turned off.

Because to you it was too intense and fast and your life was already like that. Already too chaotic, but to Bucky it was calming. He found it calming so you started watching it with him.

She didn’t even leave it in the freezer long enough. How did she expect it to hold itself together? It’s chocolate, not glue, you’d always say. Always go on some tangent and Bucky really liked it. Found you funny and comforting and it really could've just been your voice. Your voice was sweet and smooth, but it wasn’t just that. It was you and all of you and he fell in love with all of it.

All of you.

Just like you fell in love with him when he rested his head on your shoulder and fell asleep right between you one night.

“Got me, Y/N?”

“Got you, Buck.”

So, the kiss felt like that. Like sleepy nights and baking shows and home and just everything good.

Sam could tell.

After all, he liked when his friends had good things.

Even if he had to make a few harmless lies to get them.

baby, but you.

summary. | He hopes you can feel it, because nobody else can heal it but you. Baby, but you.

warnings. | smut, hate fucking (ish), enemies to lover, slight angst, birthdays, degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, yearning, crushing, riding, couch sex, breeding, possessiveness, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI AND DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES.

word count. | 3.6k

pairings. | Bucky Barnes x Reader.

a/n. | happy birthday @asadmarveltrashbag ilysm!!! thank you so much for being there for me since like day one, for being such a good role model and for just being amazing. thank you so much for listening to me rant and giving me advice, i’m so grateful for you. i hope your birthday is amazing today, i love you so much!! don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know.

He stands afar from you. A cold, calculated stare that you’re almost tempted to challenge with your killer one. There are only about two and a half meters of space separating you two, and even that’s not enough. You’re like a cat and a dog, constantly fighting about God knows what. Sometimes it’s the stupidest of things; other times, it’s the most reasonable. Either he has the television on too loud, or you come home too late. The other neighbours… Well, frankly, they don’t live here anymore.

It’s because they can’t handle his screaming when he has nightmares. You scoffed when you first heard it from your landlord, finding it absolutely insane that nobody is used to the sounds of a nightmare. As if they’re any better. You handle it like a champion, simply just putting on earbuds and your favourite songs at the lowest volume until you fall asleep. You almost feel bad for him when you see him with deep bags under his eyes.

But one short, snarky remark from him has the sympathy in you draining. Almost like the way his hands are the palest colour ever, and his skin doesn’t have the redness it should have. Almost as if the colours on a painting have been scraped off. You shouldn’t be noticing these things, really, but you just can’t help it. He’s almost a shell of the man he once was, at least in his words, but you believe that with some care (not from your hands, ew), he’ll be back to normal.

He shouldn’t notice the way you sigh every time you get home. The way you drag yourself through the carpeted hallway, out from the metal box that Bucky doesn’t trust. He doesn’t charge anything that has to do with heights, so that’s why he’s settled for the second floor. The drop in his stomach brings back so many memories that he can’t bear to remember.

Sometimes, he picks up the rumble of your stomach that he knows you’re embarrassed about, only because when it happens, you become the most fearful sailor to ever cross the shore. You always arrive right before Bucky falls asleep, leaving him at peace. ...No, no, no. It’s not like that. He totally doesn’t wait up until you come home safely before he can actually fall asleep so he can have a sense of calm. No, that’s absurd. Another absurd thing is the ungodly hour that you arrive home.

“Listen, you’re the one who bumped into me, okay? Let’s just leave it at that,” you huff, swinging your keychain between your fingers. Your digits are so soft, only ever coarse when you touch the skin between them. His hands, however, are almost the opposite. They’re rough and dry, but the crevices are a bit damp with sweat from pure nervousness. “No, no, you bumped into me, and we’re going to leave it at that, okay? Okay,” he nods, even though he’s talking to you.

“No, you bumped into me, and that’s that. Goodbye, Mr. Barnes,” you finish, throwing your bag over your shoulder and stomping down the hallways. You don’t look back once, simply just strutting your way to that darned elevator that you loathe. Suddenly, a hand wraps around your arm and turns you around. “I didn’t say you could go; we’re not done until I say we’re done,” he growls, gripping your arm tight enough to have you whimpering.

“No, fuck you. I’m tired of constantly listening to you bitch and moan about things that aren’t even my fault. God, it’s like you’re twenty fucking years old with no maturity, it’s fucking pathetic,” you spit, trying to yank your arm away. But compared to a supersoldier, your strength is equal to a cool spring breeze hitting a concrete building—basically nothing. Bucky’s chest heaves, and for a moment, you’re scared.

But even though he has a temper, he could never hurt you. He’s not the Winter Soldier; you’re sure of it.

His jaw clenches, and you stare at him intensely. Work is long forgotten, just like the fact that today is your birthday. That nervous, jittery feeling that would pool in the pits of your soul isn’t there. You wonder if it’s because you’re all grown up now, or maybe it’s because you’ve been so busy that your birthday seems like any other day in your eyes. Your eyes fall to his lips, almost on instinct. They’re pink and plump, slightly damp from the wetness on his tongue.

He gently pushes you inside his home, and you stumble back in shock. “I have to go to work–” you start, but he cuts you off. “I don’t give a shit. I need to teach you a lesson,” he snaps, pulling off his leather jacket. It has blue hues to it, sometimes grey if shone under the correct lighting. It’s overall black, suiting that dark soul of his that some people claim he has. You keep your mouth shut, clutching onto the strap of your backpack that rests on your right shoulder.

Suddenly, that fiery haze of yours has faded out, and you just watch him dumbfounded. Your jaw is slightly slack, but your eyes aren’t bulging out. Bucky pulls off the unusual leather gloves that always seemed to be a little too big on him. The space between his fingers and the cloth is always too much, and you even contemplated ‘accidentally’ giving him a new, better-fitting pair.

They flop onto the floor with an almost laughable sound, but you know you shouldn’t even dare to crack a smile. “Always going on and on about something. You just need to be shut up for once, don’t you?” Bucky questions, snapping his head towards you. “N- No…” you whisper, looking down to the ground. Suddenly, you prefer looking at wood floors to handsome men such as Bucky.

“Oh… Right, I forgot. You don’t know what’s good for you, that’s why you go to work and come home so late in the night. Bet you don’t have any time to fuck around with those pathetic twenty-year-old douchebags. That’s why you touch that little pussy of yours before you head to work, right?” he questions, and you gulp thickly.

Did he really hear it all?

“Please, I heard the way you finger fuck yourself in the shower all the way here. You really need to learn how to properly lock your door. You’re lucky those old ladies were here when I heard you, or else I would’ve come all the way over there and taught you a real good lesson,” he snaps, and you genuinely feel like doubting every little thing you do. “And you know what’s so funny, doll? I even hear the way you moan my name when you’re about to come,” he whispers, standing so close to you, and you wonder how he even managed to get here.

Your faces are inches away, His warm breath fans against your skin, and Bucky can feel the nervousness seeping through your pores. “Need a refresher? Or are you just going to stay quiet?” he questions, raising his eyebrows. He has a stupid smile on his face, and you’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or slap him. Both seem very appealing, but God, that devil on your shoulder always did have a loud voice.

Your bag joins his gloves on the floor, and you tilt your head upwards to kiss him. Your lips slowly slot against his, the taste of stale coffee immediately fills your mouth as Bucky shoves his tongue past your lips. He cups the side on your face, and your hands remain bent in the air. You don’t know what to do with yourself, so you place them on his shoulders, hoping for the best. He tenses up for a bit, and you start to pull away.

He doesn’t let you go too far. His hands keep you near him, and he stares into your eyes. Blue, blown-out orbs give Bucky an even darker look, and you’re practically sailing the same ship. “Don’t… Don’t go,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. “I won’t, but-” you begin, but he cuts you off with an open-mouthed kiss. It’s so rough, so passionate. Teeth and tongues clash at each other, and you whimper against him as his hands move from your face.

They run down your body before gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. His front presses against yours, and you can feel his defined muscles through that black t-shirt of his. You wrap your arms around his neck, such a simple act and yet he’s swooning like the lovesick fool he is. No, no, no, he’s not lovesick, and he’s not swooning. He’s just wanting, and that is all, just like you are.

You roll your hips for friction, desperate for something. The faint feeling of Bucky’s hard cock sends shivers down your spine, and you just know he’s huge. He could probably split you in two if he really wants to, and maybe it’s what you want as well. God, just the mental image of his cock sliding in and out of you is so pleasurable. Wetness soaks your panties, and you moan into his mouth.

“Say ‘ah,’ slut,” he mumbles before pulling away from the kiss again. You quickly do so and watch as Bucky puckers his bruised, red lips. You’re not sure what to expect; a stupid, silly kiss or something else. Your tongue is stretched out inside your mouth, and you wait for him as your chest rises and falls. Your eyes watch him as he spits into your mouth, a wad of spit dripping onto your tongue and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets.

You quickly swallow it as if it’s some sort of antidote to an incurable disease. “Oh, you’re such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? I bet you’d let me do anything to you, right? Let me fuck you silly, throw you around, treat you like the spoiled brat you are,” Bucky growls with a fierce smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. Sculpted by the Gods themselves, you wonder why the world has been so mean to him.

No, no, no, you don’t. You’re just desperate and needy.

“You really are stupid, and I haven’t even touched that little pussy of yours yet, and you can’t even answer a simple li’l question,” Bucky says out loud, expressing pure shame and disgrace. You shake your head before placing your hands back on his hard, defined chest. There’s a specific spot on his chest where the fabric is too sheer. You can see the way his soft hair has been shaved down to a mere stubble, and you wonder what he’d look like if it was grown out.

“I- I’m a dirty girl, I’d let you do anything to me, James,” you whisper to him, looking up at him with unintentional doe eyes. “I know, baby, I know,” he smirks before pushing you backwards. You expect to collide with the wooden floors harshly and startle the downstairs residents, or maybe even on a carpet that would try to break your fall but would end up failing.

You don’t expect to fall back onto a soft, cushioned couch. It’s more so an armchair that is a greyish-blue colour, one that you’d see and Ikea and want so bad, but you’d quickly change your mind once you see the whopping price it’s set at. Bucky towers over you, and you tilt your head up, still watching has the features of his face twitch a bit. His hands run down to your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your jeans before his nimble yet strong, thick fingers reach to the button and zipper.

He makes quick work of stripping your clothes off for you, and you try your hardest to do the same for him. But flying, clashing hands that are oh so desperate can’t really do much. So as he pulls your wet panties down your feet, you hurriedly kick them to the floor. Bucky pulls his shirt over his head, and you’re not sure if you’ve lost it or if time truly has slowed down. You’re able to memorize each freckle, each scar, each mole and each muscle of his upper body.

He’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Though everyone has their measly little flaws that can be so bothersome, in your eyes, he has no flaws. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he breathlessly tells you, making you struggle to fight the cheerful smile that forces its way onto your face. “You’re pretty too, James,” you tell him, reaching backwards to unclasp your bra.

Now, there’s nothing special about it, really. It’s plain black, and in some areas, it physically pains you, leaving branded marks behind that feel good when you gently run your hands over them. Nonetheless, you look gorgeous with it on. But when it’s on the floor, treated like nothing, you’re even more beautiful. Your slick has stained your inner thighs with stickiness, and your clit throbs with need.

Bucky parts your legs, watching as strings of wetness pull apart from each other. “Fucking hell, is that all because of me, slut? Say it, tell me who you’re so wet for,” he demands, and your breathing hitches. “S’all for you, James, I’m so wet because of you,” you whisper to him, and he smirks devilishly. You clench around nothing but air, desperate for his cock to be inside you. “I want you so bad, James, please fuck me,” you beg to him desperately, and he chuckles.

Bucky goes to start taking off his pants, unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper that sometimes gets caught onto the fabric of his boxers a little too much. The black fabric slips off his skin like an extra layer of skin, and the sight of his hard cock beneath his briefs is so sexy. You let out a shaky breath, and you can just see how fucking huge he is. Impossibly long with a thickness that’ll leave you limping for at least a week or two.

“You know what’s so fucking hilarious, baby? Just moments ago, you were cursing me out, fuming at me and calling me pathetic, but look at you; you’re the pathetic one here. Practically drooling for my cock, so needy as soon as I put my hands on you,” Bucky scoffs, and you know he’s so right. He pulls down his boxers, and you watch as his cock springs out, slapping his lower abdomen and near his pretty Adonis bone.

He roughly pulls you up and sits down on the couch before dragging you onto his lap. You straddle the sides of his thick thighs, and his big cock presses right next to your pussy, between your legs. Beads of precum drip down the shaft of his cock, and some of it even sticks to your skin. “You want my cock, baby? Well, go ahead, you can have it,” he tells you, resting his hands on your hips.

You exhale nervously, knowing that his cock is gonna stretch you out so much, it’ll be borderline painful and pleasurable. You lift your hips up a bit, and Bucky’s hand grasps the base of his cock. He’s sticky and pulsating, a raging red that is almost purple if you squint your eyes enough. He drags it from your swollen little pearl all the way down to your drooling hole. The mild friction is absolutely amazing, making you moan softly.

Bucky shudders as he slowly pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. He almost wants to tease you so badly, make you beg for it until you’re sobbing and going all ditzy for him. But he’s not all the mean, and he can’t possibly be so cruel to the birthday girl. In one swift motion, Bucky pulls you down onto his cock, burying himself inside of you. You toss your head back and cry out as he stretches you painfully. The wet squelching pounds of your pussy are loud, but your moans are much louder.

He curses and bites down on his bottom lip, falling in love with the way your pussy hugs him tightly and the velvet feeling of your walls. No, no, no, he is not falling in love. He’s just desperate, that’s all. It takes you both a few seconds to adjust, and the painful stretch dulls down to immense pleasure. You struggle to control your breathing, though, because you’ve never taken anyone or anything as big and him. Months of wanting and needing him have finally come down to this, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He hopes you can feel it because nobody can heal it but you. Every single day he thinks about you, and his heart hurts. His heart hurts when he watches you leave and come home, it hurts when you both fight, and it hurts when he believes you could never love him. His mind still tells him that, and yet here you are, riding his cock on your birthday. He notices the way your bottom lip wobbles a bit, and he pities you.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, you’re doing so good. Ride my cock, birthday girl, I know you can do it,” Bucky praises with the most innocent smile ever. You nod your head and slowly begin to rock your hips, moving them up and down his cock. Bucky is torn; he doesn’t know whether he should stare at your pretty face or at where you’re both connected. Your slick coats his cock and leaves it glistening, and he watches as it disappears and reappears over and over.

His hand returns back onto your hips, and he gently guides you up and down his cock. Your pained whimpers soon turn to loud, slutty, desperate moans, and Bucky begins to fuck up into your cunt, meeting you at every thrust. “Fuck, yeah, that’s my good girl. Riding my cock so fucking good,” Bucky coos, and you can’t help but giggle. Warmth fills your chest, and pleasure blooms immensely in your core, and it’s the exact same for Bucky.

His balls slap against your ass, and his cock drives in and out of you. You ride him at a quicker pace, moaning loudly, and he nudges against your sweet spot. “You look so fucking sexy riding my cock, baby. Could watch you forever an’ ever,” Bucky purrs, gripping your hips even tighter. Electricity crackles up your spine, almost like a burning wire in a destroyed fuse box. Everything is so sensitive, and the searing pleasure builds up inside the two of you.

Beads of sweat drip down your neck, and it is the same for Bucky. His skin shines just like his cock does, and the veins on the side of it throb with every movement. The wet noises and the sound of skin on skin fills the room almost impressively. The neighbours would’ve already filed noise complaints if they still lived here, but they don’t. So Bucky’ll fuck your brains out until you can’t make a sound.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t you? Can feel the way that nice little cunt is squeezin’ my cock,” he groans, staring up at you with his jaw slightly slacked. Your eyes have glazed over, and you stare at Bucky’s face. You ride him using his dick for all your needs and wants. It’s just like you’ve imagined, even down to the pleasure you’re feeling. “Mhm, gonna come all over your big cock,” you whimper at a specific thrust.

And he’s close too. Though the serum should make him last longer, your pussy just defies those rules. He fucks into you faster and rougher, and your legs have turned to jelly. You collapse onto his chest and let him pound your pussy into oblivion. Bucky’s chest rumbles with a chain of moan and curses, and you look up at him. His metal arm is icy cold, just like his eyes. But his orbs are darker than regular ice. They resemble black ice more than anything.

The elastic band in your stomach twists up tightly until it can’t do anything but snap. And so it does. The dam breaks, and you’re suddenly coming around Bucky’s cock. Your cum coats his cock and drips down his balls as your body seizes up. Your jaw falls open, and your eyes roll back while you moan loudly. “Fuck, you look so pretty when you come,” Bucky breathes, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck.

You cry out loudly as Bucky sloppily fucks you through your orgasm and chases his own. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, knock you up with my kids. Fuck, you’d look so hot with a bump, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of your body,” he moans deeply, feeling his balls tighten up. He tosses his head back and curses, hitting his release. Ropes of cum shoot inside your cunt, painting your walls and even leaking out a bit. Somewhere, deep down inside Bucky, he truly hopes it sticks.

He moans loudly as his hips give a few shallow thrusts, prolonging his orgasm. You both sigh, slick with sweat and other bodily fluids that neither of you cares about. “Happy birthday…” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss on the side of your head. “T- Thank you… How’d you know, though?” you question, even though his cock is still inside you. “Just did… Listen, I’m sorry–” he starts, but you cut him off. “Shh, I don’t care about anything but you, baby,” you tell him, whispering gently.

“Baby, but you.”

first name basis

in which only you can call bucky by his first name

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! hope ur all well <33 thank u to this request for this v fluffy fic <333 hope u guys enjoy ! sorry for any typos :P

It was quiet, the soft pattering of raindrops on the window and the city ambiance filled the Brooklyn apartment. It was somewhat empty, but Bucky had said it was just because he had just moved in. You knew he was lying.

The two of you were sat up with your backs against his headboard, scrolling through channels to find something to watch. He had an arm around you, holding you close to him. You were leaning into him, your head lightly resting on his chest.

“there’s never anything good on anymore” bucky grumbled and you smiled.

“you sound like an old man” you chuckled, taking the controller from his hand and flipping through channels, finally settling on some nature documentary about lions.

“i am 106, you know that right?” He teased you and you rolled your eyes, elbowing him lightly and causing him to groan dramatically. His antics made you elbow him even harder, laughing as he pouted at you.

“oh boohoo” you teased him, sticking your tongue out. Bucky gasped, eyes widening at your actions.

“i cant believe you” he frowned, smiling as he tackled you and caused you to fall over, he pinned your hands above your head, looking at you with soft eyes. “you’re gonna pay y/n” he smiled, peppering kisses all over your face before finally gently placing his lips onto yours.

It was a soft and tender kiss, nothing but pure love and sweetness. The kind that you smile into and blush while your lips are still connected, the kind bucky always wanted.

As the two of you pulled away he wasted no time in pulling you to his side, leaning against his headboard and letting your head rest comfortably on his chest. It was quiet, neither of you speaking and just focusing on the lions on tv, occasionally making comments about how cute the cubs were.

“your middle name is actually Buchanan?” You blurted out, causing bucky to jump a bit. He looked at you confused before nodding his head.

“yeah it is, why?” He smiled at your question as you thought silently.

“dunno, it’s just, Buchanan” you giggled and bucky blushed.

“are you making fun of my middle name?” He asked, trying his best to hold back the smile on his face and you shook your head quickly.

“no! i mean, a little bit i guess” you laughed and bucky smiled brightly at you, loving the sound of your laughter.

“i can’t believe you” bucky frowned and you pouted, moving up to kiss his jawline.

“oh angel, you know your middle name doesn’t change a thing between us” he smiled at your words, loving the way you so easily caved. “tell me your full name” you smiled at him, “wanna hear you say it” you giggled and he rolled his eyes before sighing.

“James Buchanan Barnes” he spoke, his voice smooth as he stared at you, a smile on his face when you hummed.

“James” you spoke, the name rolling off your tongue like it was the most wonderful thing in the world. Buckys heart raced, his face flushed and his stomach was in knots. “you know that’s a lot better than buchanan” you teased, craning your neck a bit to look at bucky.

“say it again” he whispered, his heartbeat in his ears as you looked at him confused.

“that your middle name is ridiculous?” you smiled and he shook his head.

“no doll, my name” his voice was soft, just above a whisper.

“James” you repeated the name, smiling at the bashful smile on his face and the way his face flushed as you spoke his name.

“‘t sounds nice when you say it” he mumbled, his face was hot and you scrambled to sit up, cupping his face with one hand and kissing his lips before speaking up.

“well, how about we toss bucky out the window and i call you james, yeah?” You suggested and he nodded, smiling at you before crashing his lips onto yours.

Bucky didn’t know what it was about it. Maybe it’s because you were the only person since steve to make him feel like himself and not like an ex assassin. Maybe it’s because you helped remind of who he was, not the winter soldier but James Barnes. Maybe it was the way you said his name and it sounded as sweet and smooth as honey. Bucky didn’t know and he didn’t really care much, he just knew he only wanted you to call him that.

“hey guys!” You smiled as you and bucky walked into the compound hand in hand, giving the team a small wave before you and bucky headed into the kitchen.

There was some big game on tonight and the team was having a watch party, everyone gathered into the living room excited as they watched some pregame stuff. You and bucky were working in the kitchen, you had offered to make dinner so you wouldn’t have to pay an absurd amount for some takeout.

The sound of the tv was quieter and you and bucky were quick to take out all the ingredients needed from the kitchen, placing them on the counter. Bucky loved helping you cook so the two of you moved easily together in the kitchen.

Sam and steve walked into the kitchen, smiling as they saw you cooking, the smell of the food in the air.

“you guys need any help?” Sam asked, looking at how easily you and bucky handed things off to each other.

“could you help set the table up? the forks and spoons are over there” you smiled and Sam nodded, grabbing the stack and handing the forks to steve. “James can you pass me some of the salt please?” You asked, not thinking twice, bucky handed it to you with no hesitation.

Steve and Sam were grounded in their spots, shock on their faces as they processed your words.

“did- did you just call him James?” Steve asked, brows furrowed at you. You smiled at him and chuckled, completely confused as to why it was such a big deal.

“yeah, why? I do it all the time” you shrugged your shoulders, bucky had a bashful grin on his face, grabbing some cups and shoving his friends away and towards the table. Steve and Sam looked at bucky as he set some cups down on the table with them.

“so they can call you James but when i do it i get a knife two inches from my face?” Sam spoke crossing his arms across his chest and frowning at his friend. Bucky rolled his eyes, ignoring him and going to get more cups.

“can you tell everyone the foods ready?” You asked bucky, grabbing the plates and placing three filled with food into his arms. He smiled, kissing your temple before heading to the dining room.

“foods ready!” He called out, you could hear the team cheering as they all sat down around the table, excited to eat.

“james can you come get these please!” You called out, everyone whipping their head around to you.

“wh- James? You call him James?” Rhodey scoffed and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“well yeah that’s his name isn’t it” you laughed and he nodded quickly.

“i called you that one time and you threatened me” Rhodey spoke and bucky blushed, taking the plates from you quickly and rushing to give everyone food so they would stop talking.

“glad to know I’m not alone” Sam laughed, looked at Rhodey, natasha nodded.

“he told me to not call him that” steve frowned and you felt your face heating up.

You were the only one that called him James. You could feel your heart fluttering as you locked eyes with bucky, smile on your face when he walked over to you to get the plates for you and him.

“didn’t know you were so protective over your name buchanan” you teased and he rolled his eyes, the rest of the team already eating and talking amongst themselves after you told them to hurry and eat before the game started.

Bucky smiled and snaked his arms around your waist, leaning down and kissing you softly, the two of you smiling into the kiss before pulling away.

“only like it when you say it doll” he whispered and you blushed, heart skipping a beat as he kissed your forehead and let go of you, carrying the two plates in his hands and leaving you in the kitchen. You but your lip and smiled, following him quickly and eating with the rest of the team.

While steve and Sam cleaned the table up and tony and peppered filled the dishwasher you cuddled up with bucky on the couch, eyes closing when he ran his fingers through your hair.

“i love you” bucky mumbled and you smiled, “love you so much y/n y/l/n” he spoke, kissing the top of your head.

“and i love you so much james bucky barnes” you whispered, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before cuddling back into his chest, eyes fluttering shut.

His stomach fluttered and his heart skipped a beat. Sure it had been thousands of time that you had spoken his name, calling him james in any and every tone. But everytime he found himself blushing and smiley, he found himself wanting to hear you say it again, and again and again.

Maybe it was because you helped ground him. Or maybe it was because you helped him become himself again.

As bucky looked at your breathing peacefully on his chest, drifting to sleep despite the the cheers from the rest of the team he realized why he loved hearing you say his name.

It brought him back home. And home was here, with you.

It was with you and his family as they watched a game together, huddled together and squished into three sofas.