Hey. Don't Cry. I Went To Mad At You Island And None Of Your Friends Were There :)

ooooohhhhhh lawwwwddddddddd i need it.

Fᵤcₖ ₜₕₐₜ ₐₜₜᵢₜᵤdₑ ₒᵤₜₜₐ Yₒᵤ

Bucky's overprotective, reader has no sense of awareness. It's been a long day...with a lot of angsty hormones.

warnings: angst, unprotected sex, choking, shower sex 🤭

"Oh, fuck off Bucky," I scoff, storming down the hallway to my room. He follows me, quick to grab me and pin me to the wall. I let out a huff of annoyance, trying to wiggle myself out of his grasp. "Can you lose the attitude? You can't just storm off whenever we need to have a conversation," he says calmly, fighting off the urge to yell. I roll my eyes clenching my jaw. "Yeah, you don't get to decide what I do with my spare time, Barnes. I work with you, and that's it. You don't get to act all overprotective every time I have a guy over." I say firmly, pushing him off of me. "You know it's not about that," he says, following me into my room. I turn to face him, shrugging my coat off. "Yeah? Then what's it fucking about?" I say sarcastically, draping the coat over my bed. He leans against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. "He tried to kill you. Remember that? I told you he was dangerous, and you couldn't give a shit." He says, letting out a sigh. I roll my eyes as I take my shoes off, throwing my socks into the laundry basket at the corner of the room. "I remember that you brought a girl over the other day when I told you that she was bad news. So don't try to act like you're a saint either. I can handle myself fine," I huff, unzipping my pants, sliding them down my legs. His glare stays focused on my face, sucking in a breath. I aggressively open my bottom drawer, shuffling around for a pair of shorts. He says nothing for a moment, attention trained on my annoyed expression. "If you are just going to keep grilling me then just leave James. I don't need you to do your protective thing on me," I say, pulling my shirt over my head, throwing it into the basket. I glance over at him to see a very annoyed glare on his face; however, the moonlight casts a beautiful glow over his face which makes my legs a little weak. I swallow, opening the drawer to my shirts. I pick up a t-shirt, pulling it over my head. "Wearing my shirts now?" He asks, a smirk tugging at the edge of his perfect lips.

I look down at the material, confused. "Then fucking take it back, I don't want it," I yell, pulling it over my head. I glare at him as I walk over to shove it into his chest, letting out a huff. I leave the room, slamming the bathroom door shut as I groan in frustration. Maybe a shower could help me let off some steam, the long day mixed with Bucky's antics pushing me over the edge. I aggressively turn the water on, pulling my shorts and panties down my legs. I step out of them, kicking them to the corner as I unclasp my bra, huffing when I can't get it unclasped. I feel tears start to prickle at the edges of my eyes as I let out a sniffle, stepping into the shower. I let out a sigh of relief as the water started to cascade down my body, slowly running my hands down my hair. I continue onto my routine, thoughts swirling in my mind. This day had been utterly infuriating. People moving too slow, entitled assholes cutting me off. It was one of those days where you question if there is a God that wants you to feel pain. To top it off-- Bucky had been irritatingly overprotective lately. And boy did I want to fuck that annoying smirk off his face every second of the day. As I washed the last bit of conditioner out of my hair, however, I felt a pair of strong hands twirl me around, pinning me to the wall. I let out a gasp as my eyes find Bucky's blue ones, face flushing. "What the fuck are you doing-" I groan squirming in his hold. He leans down to kiss me hungrily, silencing my questions. What the fuck is happening right now?

Bewildered, I do the only thing I had ever really wanted to do. Kiss him back. My hands finally snaked out of his hold, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck to pull him closer. He groans into my mouth, chest flush to mine. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you sweetheart," he growls, pulling my body closer to his. I whine into his mouth as he lifts my hips to wrap around his torso, kissing down my jaw line to my neck. My eyes roll to the back of my head as his cock throbs at my entrance, hand sneaking down to rub the tip against my clit. I let out a whiney moan, head resting against the wall as he sucks hickies along my collarbone. Just when I was about to tell him to fuck me, he thrusts in, dick coated in my needy wetness. "Shit-" I moan, nails leaving little crescents on his toned back. He groans against my neck, thrusting into me at a relentless pace. "Deeper, please," I moan out, ragged breaths adding to the steam of the water. He obliges, pulling all the way out before thrusting all the way back in. I let out a scream clenching around his dick. Suddenly, his hand wraps around my neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. A silent warning that he could do absolutely whatever he wanted to. I wanted to slap that smirk right off of his face when my pussy clenched around him at the sensation of metal to skin. "You gonna cum baby?" He groans, tongue poking out to wet his lips. I was too fucked-out to answer, a quiet moan slipping from my mouth at his words. He thrusts faster, tip kissing my g-spot beautifully. My chest rises a falls at a quick pace, the coil in my tummy on the verge of snapping. It didn't take long for Bucky to notice my eyes fluttering closed, forehead resting on his to know I was close. He kisses me feverishly, swallowing my moans as my body start to shake in touch. My eyes roll to the back of my head, body going weak in his arms. I pant against his neck, hands wrapping around his neck as he gently sets me down. "I'm still mad at you," I whisper, closing my eyes as I rest my head on the cool tile.

"It's okay, I can just make you forget." He says cooly, sinking to his knees.

nerdy + hot = herdy

The fact Bucky took his date to a science expo was so nerdy and hot of him.

this had me kickin my feet n shi

Same Lonely Night

summary: Your roommate Bucky Barnes hears you pleasure yourself and moan something he never thought he would be into. That forces him to face his feelings for you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 2.6K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n

A/N: This is the second part of A Lonely Night. This time we are seeing Bucky's POV and what comes next. You don't have to read that part to understand what's going on but if you want to, you can find it on my blog/masterlist. I planned this as a 3-part story and I hope I'll maintain my inspiration and motivation to write the last part. Wish me luck!

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. You are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

Bucky’s head is resting on the shower wall while the water is running down. His flesh hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he doesn’t move it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

He really had no intention to listen to you. He was just watching the news mindlessly, but his enhanced hearing turned into a curse the moment he heard you taking a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but focus on the noises you made. That’s when he started to hear the way you were touching yourself. Every stroke, every rub, every muffled moan… 

He knew what you were doing was private and he had no right listening to it, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. How could he? You were so needy and subby. Even in your fantasy, you were begging. He wondered what you were imagining. Who were you begging? Your crush? Maybe you have been seeing someone.

That thought had never occurred to him before. You were always in your element, working, chilling at home, doing whatever you enjoyed in your spare time, and occasionally going out with your friends. You never brought someone home. Not yet at least. So he never questioned if you were seeing someone or not. Even if there was someone, he wouldn’t know, and that thought suddenly hurts him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your moans bring him back to reality. If you are seeing someone why are you so needy? Are you just that greedy or has it been that long? He’s certainly hoping for the latter. That’s something he can relate to, and it's probably been much longer for him. That’s why he can’t stop listening. That’s why his cock is painfully hard. Normally he would just remove himself from the house, and give you some space instead of creeping like this.

“Oh please, fuck me.” He would do anything to be able to do that. Anything. Just to be in that room with you, taking his time exploring your body and satisfying your needs. Even just the thought of it drives him crazy. “Fuck me, daddy, please.” 

That surprises him on so many levels. He never thought you would be into that. You look pretty innocent. He wouldn’t assume you would have such dirty fantasies. Fucking an old man… Are you into older men or is it just a little fantasy you are playing? Maybe you are seeing someone old. Maybe that’s why your mind goes there. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what’s going on in your private life, and every word that comes out of your mouth confuses him even more. It creates more problems, but the biggest one is, when he heard daddy, his dick twitched with excitement. So it makes him question himself, too. Is he into younger women or is it because you were the one saying it? The latter somehow seems more likely. Yet all of that doesn’t change the fact that he’s listening to you and getting hard just because of it. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He hears how your head falls onto the pillow while your whole body is shaking, and how much you are enjoying it. He knows this is his cue. He should just remove himself from the living room so he won’t get caught with a hard-on. He doesn’t miss a beat. Quickly, he turns the TV off and runs to the bathroom. 

That’s how he ended up here, head pressed against the cold shower tiles, thinking about the way you said daddy over and over again. He is trying really hard not to give in, but his cock is aching with need. A part of him thinks he should just give in. It’s not such a big deal. Everyone masturbates. You just did. Three fucking times! That thought makes him groan. If you can come three times just by masturbating,how many times could he make you come? 

So it’s not even a conscious decision when he starts to stroke himself when he starts thinking about making you come. He can’t stop himself from imagining how you would look under him or on top of him. It doesn’t matter which position. He just wants to feel you. Your moans are echoing in his head while he caresses the top of cock. Just one stroke and it makes him tremble. He can’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. He can’t remember the last time his whole body heated up like this, just at the thought of someone. But you aren’t just anybody. You are you.

Maybe it’s because it has been ages since he had sex. Perhaps it’s because of his growing crush on you. He tried to control those feelings, thinking he was too old for you. He thought you would never look in his direction. Why would you? You are intelligent, beautiful and so cute. Like all these qualities aren’t enough, you are always so thoughtful. You always ask if he wants your leftovers, or if he needs help with anything. He knows he wakes you up at night sometimes. His nightmares are loud, but you never complained. Not once. You always let him watch the news even though you would rather watch something else. You even lent some books to him. They were in such good condition he couldn't believe his eyes. It was like reading a brand-new book. So yeah, he really tried to act like it was nothing but a silly crush, but after hearing the way you moan daddy he can’t stop himself anymore. It was as if you awakened something inside him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Should he take his time or just get over with it? He keeps his fingers loose, stroking himself up and down slowly while his head still rests on the tiles. Even with minimal effort, it feels so good. He gently cups his balls, massaging them and imagining you are the one doing it. You are the one touching the most intimate parts of his body. You are the one ready to satisfy his growing need.

“Oh fuck.” A moan escapes his lips. The shower is running and you don’t have a super hearing like him, so he knows he’s safe. Still, it feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. He shouldn’t be touching himself. He shouldn’t be moaning like this, yet you are so beautiful and needy… He already wanted you before hearing how you sound in bed, but now he wants you even more. He wants to be the one to bring you pleasure. He wants to be the one that satisfies all your needs so much that you would never need to touch yourself. Unless it’s to tease him.

He’s feeling guilty. So fucking guilty, but there’s no way he could stop now. Imagining you does something to him. There’s this primal need in his abdomen, building up.

His fingers tighten around his cock, moving faster than before, and he presses his lips together, trying not to make a sound. He keeps rubbing on that one sensitive part of his cock and finally, he starts coming with a choke. He keeps stroking himself, thinking it will be over soon, but it doesn’t end. There’s so much come that it surprises him. His hands continue pumping and his come paints the bathroom tiles immediately. He takes a deep breath when he’s done, trying to collect himself.

It feels like his head is spinning. He had been masturbating for quite some time, but he doesn’t remember the last time it felt this good. He opens his eyes, trying to ground himself, and all that shame he feels comes rushing in while looking at the mess he made. He groans loudly and then reaches for the showerhead. It doesn’t take long for him to clean the shower and then himself with the thought of you is still on the back of his mind. He is soaping himself, scrubbing, and then rinsing while trying to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just masturbation. It’s normal.

Of course, he knows how normal it is. It’s like breathing, eating, or drinking water. His body needs it so he gave in, but listening to you and touching himself while thinking about you… That’s where he crossed the line. He knows it, yet he can’t bring himself to wish he never heard you. He might be a creep or a pervert, it doesn’t matter. Your voice, the way you sound while coming, and the way you touch yourself are stacked in his memory forever. It’s something no one can take away from him.

Sighing, he steps out of the shower. Drying himself doesn’t take too long. When he steps into the living room, all that welcomes him is silence. You are still in your bedroom, God knows doing what. The TV is off, and nothing seems to have moved since he ran to the bathroom. So he’s safe. You haven’t heard or suspected anything.

Quietly, he goes back to his room, finds something to put on and just looks in the mirror. Is he really too old for you or is that all in his mind? He doesn’t look older than 35, but that doesn’t change when he was born.

What if you are into that, though? What if you really like older guys? That would change everything, wouldn’t it? You would like that he’s older than you. Maybe you would even call him daddy, just like you did in your fantasy. That thought makes the blood rush back to his cock, making him feel the arousal running through his veins once again. Like he didn’t masturbate in the shower a couple of minutes ago. 

He knows his anatomy by now. He knows he’s able to get hard again pretty quickly thanks to the super soldier serum, but he hasn’t been this horny for a long time. Especially not because of the thought of someone, but the thought of you calling him daddy… 

Jesus… It makes him so hard!

Sighing, he drops his whole weight on the bed and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to touch himself again. It’s for the best if he stops thinking about you and focuses on something else, isn’t it? He tries to think of something, anything that could take his mind off of you, but nothing, absolutely nothing is more interesting. Nothing he tries to focus on lasts. His mind goes running back to you, imagining how you would look the moment he would push himself inside you. How your mouth would open, how you would throw your head back, and how wonderful it would feel.

That thought does it. It breaks his resistance. All the effort he put into not touching himself again goes out of the window, especially once he imagines you saying “Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder.” His hand goes under his boxers, slowly toying with his cock. It feels like he didn’t touch himself today, and the need is even stronger now. After a couple of strokes, he realizes he can’t move his hand properly like this, so he pushes down his shorts and boxers at the same, creating some space for movement. 

He looks down at his cock, already oozing with precum. His flesh hand moves on top of the head and smears it all the way down, making it easier for him to play with himself. He sets a steady rhythm, testing what feels right, but his precum isn’t enough to make it enjoyable. That’s when he reaches for his nightstand and takes out the bottle of lube. His metal hand works fast, opening the bottle and putting a generous amount on hisnhand, before he puts it back and starts to touch himself. 

Now it feels much better. His hand works seamlessly from the top to the bottom, repeating the same movement a couple of times. He tries to get lost in his fantasies but something feels off. He isn’t sure what it is because what he’s doing is enjoyable. Something is not enough. Maybe he should work faster. So that’s what he tries. His hand starts to move faster on his cock, but that’s not helping. 

He’s pretty sure this is what his body wants especially because he’s still rock hard. Should he be more gentle and take his sweet time? That doesn’t seem to work, either. Does he need a tighter grip? Maybe, but he can’t do more with his flesh hand. He glances at his metal hand for the first time since he started. He never used it to pleasure himself before. The flesh looked and seemed more appealing than metal, yet right now it’s not enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

He reaches for the lube once again. This time he uses his flesh hand and pours some on his metal one as he tries to convince himself that this is not a bad idea.

He goes right back into touching himself, just with his metal hand this time. It feels different, really different, and surprisingly okay. It doesn’t feel as warm. The texture is completely different yet it somehow works. His fingers start to work faster, his thumb brushing over the head and, thanks to the lube, it starts to feel much better than he ever expected. His reluctance slowly fades away and he decides to test how fast he can move his metal hand and how much his cock can actually take it. As he paces up, pleasure starts to build so unexpectedly. He takes a deep breath but keeps moving his hand. His head is now thrown back while with the flesh hand, he cups his balls, gently massaging them.

“Oh god…”

He doesn’t realize that he's just said that out loud. He just keeps working on himself, letting his whole body relax under that pleasure. He really didn’t intend to focus on you this time, but here you are again, in his mind. The image of you on top of him… You with all your charm and cuteness, touching him, making him feel this good while he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks them until you can’t take it anymore. It drives you crazy, so you beg him to fuck you. Just like you begged while touching yourself.

“Please, please, please… I really need it, please…”

He can hear it so clearly like you are here and really begging him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that really happen.

“Anything you want, doll.”

His fingers move like they have a mind of their own. He knows he should slow down a little, make this one last a bit longer because it feels amazing, but his metal hand isn’t listening to him.

“Oh fuck, fuck.” 

He knows he’s about to come. He can feel it. It’s right there, just a few strokes away. He loses his damn mind imagining you under him, split open, and getting railed by him. God, that would feel so fucking good! You looking at him with those big beautiful eyes and begging him for more… Then your name slips out of his lips like it’s the most natural thing to say at that moment. 

Right when he’s about to come, a loud noise comes from the living room. Like something has just got shattered into pieces. His eyes fly open. He grabs his shorts and puts them on quickly, tucking his freaking erection away, and opens his door to see you standing there with an oversized T-shirt on. The glass you were probably holding is on the ground, but you don’t seem to care about that. You are looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit! She heard me.

Oh wow. this is just. wow.

A beefy!Bucky happy trail.

That’s it.

That’s the post.

I did not ask to be attacked on this Sinday. In my house. In front of my innocent followers. Also.....NSFW thoughts below. But soft NSFW.

Rain patters against the window, creating a soft steady drum that fills the peaceful, hushed room.

All you hear is his heartbeat under your ear, his warm skin on your cheek, your hand tracing along the firm planes of his stomach. You know each scar and mole on his body, a story written on his skin, your own personal map of Bucky.

It’s been hours of the two you wrapped around each other. You never want to leave this bed, the soft linen sheets tangled around his waist, your own bare legs stretched out next to him. You giggle when you realize that he’s snagged every sheet. Again.

Bucky is a blanket hog-no matter how many duvets and sheets you layer on at night, they all end up around him-you don’t complain, he’s warm enough to make up for it.

Any protest about you needing just one sheet Bucky withering away when he draws you into his side tucking you right under his bearded chin, a heavy warm arm draped over your waist, his deep voice in your ear, all sleepy and disoriented, mumbling that you’re just too far away, bunny, c’mere, I’m cold without ya.

Today has been one of those rare lazy days. No missions, no work, no phones, you turned off them before anyone could call. No need to make excuses for why you wanna stay in, you can save that for tomorrow. Sorry Sam, no brunch today, no Scott, you can’t borrow Bucky’s arm for Cassie’s show and tell.

The rain continues to drum on the rooftop; the skies fading to cloudy azure blues and grays, the light in the room dimming, as you continue to trace your finger up and down his belly. Across the soft tawny hair trailing to his growing bulge that’s not quite hidden by the heap of sheets gathered around his legs.

The pads of your fingers find the vein running down his stomach and you press softly, grazing it with the edge of your nail. His quiet hiss draws your eyes up, past his heaving flushed chest to his face.

Oh.

Bucky is giving you that look. The one that sends you spiraling headfirst into the abyss, the one that will have you agreeing to do anything if he just keeps looking at you like that.

He’s gazing at you, love and adoration darkening his blue eyes. He always says you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

And when his blue eyes settle on your face, his breath shuddering and he stares at you, enraptured as if he could fall to his knees and worship the ground you walk on.

When he can’t keep his hands off of you for more than a minute, when he seeks you out in a room full of people, drawn to your smile, your eyes, your laugh.

When he tilts your chin up, just to get a closer look and maybe sneak a kiss or two....well you have to believe him. How can you argue with that?

“Whatchu thinkin’ about Bunny,” he enquires, voice rough, gravelly breaking the silence, his hand drifting over the small of your back. You shiver at the feel of his calloused fingers on your skin.

Pursing your lips, your playful eyes flit between his relaxed face and the tent between his legs. “You.”

A grin stretches across his face, his bearded cheeks creasing as it widens until the corners of his eyes crinkle. You trace the vein down, down, down, unhurried, hearing the small hitch in his breath as you push your hand under the sheets, keeping you from him.

Flicking them away, you lick your lips at the sight of him. Hard and throbbing, a long vein making its way to the red, swollen tip. You draw your thumb across his head, smearing drops of precum down his shaft with a twist of your wrist.

Bucky chokes out your name when you do it again, his cock twitching under your light touch. Glancing back up at him, his blue eyes nearly black with lust and need, his lips parted as he takes a deep breath in.

You preen, your giant super-soldier coming undone at your touch is well-it’s intoxicating especially when you make him groan, his hips lifting off the bed as you stroke him.

“Thinking about how much I want you inside me, stretching me until I can’t take anymore,” you confess.

“Hold on, hold on,” Bucky reaches down, his fingers closing around your wrist. “That feels too good,” he chuckles, needing you to stop because if you keep touching him the way you are, this is going to be over before he can take care of you the way you deserve.

And Bucky never lets you down.

“Get on top and use me, bunny,” he states, his hands folding behind his head. "If you can handle all this," he jokes.

You narrow your eyes at him. You can handle him, maybe. Damn, he's big. The last time he pinned you down and fucked you swore he was in your chest, unable to even scream as he pounded you. You may have passed out. Yeah, you can handle him.

You swing your leg over his large thigh, grabbing his shaft with one hand, bracing yourself as you ease down his thick cock. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling the slight burn as you take him in, your silken walls stretching around him.

It always takes a minute to get used to him, each inch makes you feel so full, soft mewls slip past your lips as he disappears inside you. Slapping your hands on his chest, you drop your head, breathing through your nose. He’s so deep, so deep, all you can feel is him.

Bucky smooths his hands up your thighs, massaging small circles with his thumbs, “take your time sweet girl, doing so good,” he praises.

You circle your hips, nails clawing at his chest at the first burst of sensations. He lets you set the pace, a slow steady rhythm that builds until you’re bouncing on him, your tits sway in front of his face, his hands running up and down and your thighs as he continues to praise you for taking him so well, fuck you feel so good bunny, you’re so tight bunny, you feel so soft, so good, that’s my girl.

Your legs burn, muscles shaking as you chase your high, you slip forward, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. You’re so close, but you can’t move fast enough, tears prick your eyes as you try. “Bucky please’-” you cry out.

“You need me, don’t you, Bunny?” he murmurs.

Bucky sits up, pulling you into his chest, your nipples brushing over his sweat-laced skin with each frantic roll of your hips. You place your hands on his back, biting down on his shoulder. All you can think is how good you feel, so good, drowning in pleasure as you let him take control. His massive arms wrap around your body as he meets your thrusts, pounding up into your fluttering walls, the bed shaking and creaking.

“Bucky, fuck, oh fuck yes right there, right-oh fuck,” you rasp out, a bead of sweat rolling your spine.

Bucky sweeps his lips across your shoulder, peppering kissing along your neck, nipping and sucking bruises on your throat, you’ll proudly wear his marks for days his steady deep pace making you cry out. His name slurred on your tongue as the spring gets tighter and tighter.

Bucky wrenches your head back, biting your throat until you whimper his tongue soothing the small marks left behind. His feral eyes roaming over your pretty face with pride. He’s not going to stop until he sees you fall apart.

“I got you, bunny. Let go for me, go on, I got you,” he grunts, his lips slotting over yours. His grip tightens when a deep thrust hits your sweet spot so hard your body goes rigid.

“There you go, cum for me, cum for me,” he chants, his needy words muffled as he deepens the kiss, the feel of his wet tongue gliding past your parted lips drives you over the edge.

You keen, a high thin sound that makes Bucky smirk, your slick walls clenching over his cock, greedily pulling him back. Your hips jerking rapidly over him as your orgasm hits you, the tight spring coiling in your belly shatters.

Bucky groans in your ear, clutching you to his warm body as he pounds into your spasming cunt. It’s too much, yet you want more, the potent pressure building again. His face buried in your neck as his thrusts become erratic, warmth spreading in your pussy as he cums, his fingers rubbing your clit, “one more, bunny, need ya to cum one more time, “breathed into your skin until you wantonly sob, your body trembling as another weaker orgasm washes you over.

“Good girl,” he pants, lifting his head up, his lips moving over your jaw. More soft kisses peppered along your skin, his mouth slotting over yours passionately, languidly until you’re dizzy.

Breaking the kiss with a pleased sigh, he leans back on the sheets, keeping you flush against him, arranging your limp body over his.

“Let’s stay like this,” he hums when you sit up. “I’ll get you cleaned up and fed in a minute, just wanna feel you wrapped around me, bunny.”

You can do that. All night if he wants.

You smile, laying back on his chest, you card your fingers through his damp hair. The sounds of the rain pelting on the rooftop fading away as you listen to his deep voice telling you how much he loves you.

oh my. pls congressman sergeant james. pls.

Security Clearance

Title: Security Clearance

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Former SHEILD!Female Reader

Summary:  When a long day of political chaos leaves Congressman Bucky Barnes teetering on the edge, the last person he wants watching him is you.

Word Count:  3.8k

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, SMUT, Rough sex, aggressive dominants, biting, bruising, possessiveness, Semi-public setting (gym), Mutual physical aggression (consensual, Breathless dirty talk, Workplace-adjacent setting (Congressman x Bodyguard dynamic)

A/N:  Want to get this out before Thunderbolts* 

You hated this suit.

Not because it was tight or unflattering, but because it made you feel like part of the machine again. Like some cog wheeled into place after being discarded years ago. The synthetic fibers clung to your skin like old duty-like expectation. It itched in a way you couldn’t scratch. You weren’t SHIELD anymore, hadn’t been for years, but when the government needed someone with a little edge, a little blood on their hands and a spotless record on paper, your name still came up. So here you were-again. A private contractor with federal strings tied tight around your wrists. They called it security clearance. You called it a leash.

That’s how you ended up here, standing in the corner of a polished D.C. office suite, the walls too white, the air too cold, watching Congressman James Buchanan Barnes slowly come apart at the seams.

He didn’t like you. That much was obvious.

You didn’t blame him. You were a shadow in his periphery, always there. At hearings. At dinners. In hallways with nothing but silence between you. You were the person who never flinched under his stare, the one who didn’t try to smile or play politics. Your job was simple: observe, protect, report. And sometimes, control.

You were a living, breathing reminder that Bucky Barnes wasn’t as free as the country he served.

But truthfully? You weren’t sure he hated you as much as he hated what you represented. The collar he couldn’t shake. The watchdog the state had assigned him in the form of someone with matching ghosts.

Bucky Barnes was a former assassin turned polished representative with a jawline sharp enough to make headlines and a gaze that could still freeze a room. That was before today. Today, his hair was disheveled, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. His eyes-stormy, bloodshot, heavy-lidded-burned with something you hadn’t seen since the field: unspent violence.

His tie hung loose around his collarbone, his sleeves rolled up past the elbow. The flash of metal from his forearm caught the light with every furious step he took across the office.

You didn’t need enhanced senses to pick up the tension bleeding off him in waves. It was in the twitch of his fingers. The restless pacing. The way his mouth moved soundlessly before finally giving voice to his thoughts.

"Need to hit something before I hit someone," he bit out, ripping the rest of his tie off like it offended him. He didn’t look at you. Just turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

You gave it two beats.

Then pushed off the wall and followed.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The gym was cold and empty. Just polished floors, the faint smell of leather and sweat, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You stepped inside and paused just past the doorway, letting the door shut behind you with a soft click.

Bucky was already moving, disappearing into the changing room without a word. You stayed where you were, arms folded, leaning back against the wall as you let the silence stretch. A few minutes passed, and then he returned.

He’d stripped down into a plain black workout tee and loose dark sweats. Gone was the suited congressman-the image scrubbed away along with the tie and the tension. This was the man you remembered from field briefings in shadowed corners of SHIELD operations-lean muscle, taut lines, a low-simmering fury barely restrained beneath his skin.

You turned away from him, scanning the open gym floor as he began wrapping his right hand in athletic tape. Methodical. Focused. The sound of the tape unraveling was sharp in the quiet.

You started walking, slowly pacing the perimeter of the space, each step steady. You moved like you were still checking for exits, still measuring threats. It was instinct. Habit. You let your fingers skim along the wall padding. The air smelled like sweat and adrenaline and rubber.

Then the first thwack hit the air.

You stopped walking.

Bucky was hammering the punching bag. Sharp, brutal strikes. The kind that made the chain rattle and the leather creak. The kind that left bruises if anyone got in his way. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was still worked up. His grunts came short and clipped, not satisfied. Not eased.

You slowly turned back to watch him. He kept going. Harder. Faster. Each strike was more violent than the last, fists hammering the bag like it had personally offended him. You could almost hear it in his breathing-the way his exhales shortened, the growl that hovered behind each grunt. The bag wasn't working. If anything, it was winding him tighter.

You didn’t need to see his expression to know the storm inside him was getting worse. His punches turned more erratic. Sloppier, even, like control was slipping.

Then came the sharp exhale-a frustrated huff that echoed too loud in the empty space. He dropped his arms, the bag swaying slightly from the abuse, and turned toward you like he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His eyes were fire when they met yours.

"You got anything under that you can fight in?" he asked, voice still sharp, still clipped.

You crossed your arms and raised a brow. "We're not suppose to engage the client, Sir.."

His jaw ticked. "I thought you had to follow directives?"

"Charming." You snorted muttering under your breath. 

Still, you considered it. It had been a while since you’d had a proper spar. The last few agents assigned to Bucky’s rotation had all been too stiff, too careful. The second you got aggressive, they called you 'too much'-like they didn’t sign up to be knocked flat. Bucky, though... Bucky could take a hit. More than that, he wanted one.

With a sigh, you rolled your eyes and slowly began stripping off your blazer. Then your shirt. Underneath, a fitted black tank hugged your torso. "This work for you, Congressman?"

He just turned to dig in his duffel before tossing a pair of grey sweatpants at you.

"Wear those. I don't want to get billed for ruining those pants." 

You rolled your eyes but changed, your slacks hitting the floor before you stepped into the pants he gave you. Slightly too big. Smelled like him. Looking up Bucky back was to you while you'd been changing. 

You met him on the mats, both barefoot. The floor felt cool beneath your feet, the air thickening between you in slow increments. Barnes rolled his shoulders back, the faint mechanical whirl of his metal arm filling the silence like a warning. Then came the pop of his neck as he tilted it side to side, eyes still fixed on you, unblinking.

For a moment, nothing moved. Just the subtle twitch of his fingers, your mirrored stance, the tension coiling between you like an elastic band stretched tight. You studied him-really looked. The way his shoulders stayed high, rigid with barely leashed frustration. How his jaw was still locked, even now. He wasn’t fighting to warm up. He was fighting to keep something inside.

You could see it-every inch of him wound tight like a spring, controlled only by discipline and sheer force of will. He wasn’t here to spar. He was here to unload.

Fine. Let him.

It started controlled-simple drills, practiced maneuvers. The kind of opening movements you’d run a hundred times before. You both circled, feet light on the mat, trading calculated strikes. You blocked, countered. Tested. Pushed. Watched him do the same.

He was sussing you out.

You let it build. Let him think maybe you were holding back, maybe you were just a suit who couldn’t take a hit like you used too. But the second he shifted forward with more speed, you welcomed it. Met it. Matched it. Dared him to give you more.

You weren’t made of glass.

If Bucky wanted a moving target, you’d give him one.

His pace turned aggressive. The precision in his movements gave way to something harder, more visceral. Each strike he threw was faster, heavier-like he wanted to knock the air out of you, like he needed to feel the hit deep in his bones. You answered in kind. Your footwork shifted from reactive to dominant, testing his limits with sharper counters and quicker feints. Hits landed with satisfying thuds, echoing off the gym walls like thunderclaps.

You ducked beneath one wide swing and jabbed hard at his ribs, earning a grunt. His metal arm caught your next strike and shoved you back with enough force to make your heel skid along the mat-but you didn’t hesitate. You recovered fast, twisted low under his reach, and drove a solid kick into his stomach. The contact thudded through your leg and up your spine. He grunted again-not in pain, but with a glimmer of satisfaction flashing through his eyes like you’d finally given him something real to work with.

He grinned.

You hated how good it looked on him. Like he was finally enjoying himself. Like he hadn’t looked that alive in weeks.

You went for his legs. He anticipated it, but not fast enough. He hit the mat with a solid thud that reverberated through the floor, the sound sharp in your ears. Your body reacted without hesitation-knees planted to either side of his waist as you straddled him, sweat-slick and breathing hard. Muscles burned deliciously with effort, your limbs trembling slightly from exertion. You were already flushed, heat rising under your skin, blood thrumming loud in your ears.

Then he moved. A quick twist of his hips and you were airborne for a half-second before he flipped you like a coin. Your back hit the mat, air whooshing out of your lungs.

The fight bled into something else.

Now he was above you, chest heaving, face flushed, dark hair falling loose across his brow. His breath hit your jaw, hot and ragged. Your own lungs worked double time trying to keep up, chest rising and falling with each greedy gasp for oxygen. Your skin was tacky with sweat, the sting of motion and contact still rippling through your body. Every muscle screamed with effort, every nerve buzzing with the high of adrenaline.

You felt alive. On fire.

And you stared at each other, unmoving. That flicker in his eyes-once analytical, maybe even annoyed-had burned down into something molten. Something wicked. Something hungry.

"You wanna fight," he growled, voice like sandpaper and smoke, "or you wanna fuck?"

You didn’t answer.

You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him down into you like you were daring him to find out.

The clothes went fast. His hands were everywhere, rough and demanding. He yanked your top off so quickly the friction dragged hard across your skin, leaving it tender, raw in spots-but you didn’t care. You were already burning, already writhing beneath the heat rising in your veins. His shirt was next, flying across the room like it had offended him. Skin met skin, fever-hot, slick with sweat.

You didn’t even make it upright. You rolled together across the mat, limbs tangled, lips locked in something closer to a snarl than a kiss. You shoved him back with your forearm; he pulled you down by the waist. The padded floor caught your shoulder as you twisted under him, teeth grazing his jaw. You ground your hips up into his like you were trying to fuse with him, dragging a growl out of his throat.

The need had been simmering since day one-and now it boiled over.

He broke the kiss just long enough to push your bra up and out of the way, rough fingers palming the swell of your breast before his mouth sealed over your nipple. He sucked hard until you gasped, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. You arched into it, one hand buried in his hair.

Then his hand was dragging down, fast and possessive, running over your stomach and dipping under the waistband of your borrowed sweats and underwear in one fluid motion. The cold of the vibranium shocked you as his fingers slid between your legs, bold and greedy. 

"Fuck… you’re wet already."

"Don’t flatter yourself," you panted, nails digging into his waist. "Just.. sweat.." 

He laughed, low and dangerous, then sat back on his knees, eyes devouring you like he was already tasting you in his head. In one sharp motion, he shoved your borrowed sweats down. He didn’t hesitate. One rough yank sent your pants halfway down your thighs, and then he was grabbing your hips, dragging you against him like he was starved for it. You grunted, twisting with him as you rolled over, bodies grappling for dominance even now, forcing your pants off to give your legs a full range of motion. 

You clawed at his skin biting down hard on Bucky's neck, marking him, dragging a sound from deep in his chest that was nothing short of feral. He hissed, teeth bared, his hands fumbling with his own waistband before he shoved his sweats down just far enough to free himself.

You didn’t get a warning. No teasing. No buildup.

He shoved into you with a growl, thick and deep and unforgiving. You gasped, the stretch stealing your breath and making your spine arch. He filled you to the hilt, every inch forcing you open until your walls fluttered around him, squeezing back instinctively. The friction was filthy, the burn sublime, your cunt gripping him with a desperate kind of greed.

"Fuck..." he snarled against your cheek, his voice shredded, ragged with the restraint it was costing him not to completely lose control.

You could feel the power in him, muscles tensed like coiled wire as he bottomed out, holding still just long enough for your body to adjust-but it wasn’t nearly enough. Your hips rolled up, instinctive and greedy, chasing the sensation like you needed more of him. Needed him to move, to wreck you. He responded immediately, a brutal snap of his hips that punched a sharp cry out of your throat, the sound swallowed by the thick, humid air.

You dug your heels into the mat, bracing, pulling him deeper as you arched up into every thrust. Your nails raked down his spine, dragging welts along sweat-slick skin. Your cunt clenched hard around him, squeezing tight like you never wanted to let him go, like your body was just as desperate as he was to keep him buried deep inside. He felt massive, every stroke grinding against your sweet spot, slick and devastating.

"Christ..." you gasped, voice wrecked, torn straight from your chest like gravel. You rocked back against him, eyes fluttering, your whole body a raw, trembling thing.

His breath hit your neck, hot and ragged. "You like that?"

You could barely answer, too strung out on the push and pull of his body-but you weren’t yielding. Not completely. One of your hands wrenched free of his grip and tangled in his hair, yanking his head back just enough to crash your mouth to his. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a challenge. A bite.

He snarled and surged forward, dragging you down to the mat fully, but you fought him for every inch of control-hips rolling up to meet his, mouth dragging along his jaw to nip at his throat, your legs locking tighter around his waist. You bit down hard on the hinge of his shoulder, grinning at the guttural sound it tore from his chest.

His hands found yours again, slamming them above your head, pinning you like a wild thing beneath him. But you didn’t go limp. You writhed, arched, snapped your teeth at his throat like you wanted to devour him.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, voice raw and wrecked. "You want to be on top that bad?"

"And let you have all the fun.." you hissed back, eyes blazing.

When he drove into you again, it wasn’t just lust-it was a challenge met, a battle accepted. A dare between beasts. It was teeth and sweat and the raw scrape of skin on skin. Moans caught between gritted teeth. Fingernails carving stories into flesh. Each thrust came with a brutal rhythm, deep and fast, his hips slamming into you with force that rattled through your bones.

You took it. Gave it back. Your cunt squeezed around him like a vise, greedy, refusing to let him retreat. You met him thrust for thrust, voice hoarse and wild, breath panting out curses and gasps.

"Come on, Barnes. You wanted a fight-fucking take it."

He snarled like an animal, dragging his mouth down your neck as he ground against your sweet spot. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"You should be so lucky," you spat as his teeth meat your skin. 

Your thighs trembled with the effort, but your fire didn’t fade. You rocked up hard, lips dragging along his jaw before sinking your teeth into his neck again, marking him with pride. You felt his cock twitch in response.

"You're not the only one who likes to bite, Barnes," you growled into his ear.

He hissed again, head tipping forward, the movement desperate. His hands fumbled, trying to grab your hips, trying to hold you still as you took control of the rhythm, riding him from beneath with nothing but fury and fire and hunger.

"You’re fuckin’ feral," he panted.

"You love it," you breathed, grinding harder.

"Yeah," he gasped. "Yeah, I fuckin’ do."

You weren’t being fucked. You were fucking him back. And he loved every damn second of it.

His pace turned punishing, hips slamming into yours with an obscene, wet sound. The mat beneath you squeaked with the force of it, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing loud in the gym. You couldn’t stay quiet-not when he was grinding into you just right, hitting that perfect angle with brutal consistency.

Your body jolted with each stroke, every nerve ending flaring as friction sparked raw heat beneath your skin. The stretch had your mouth falling open, your breath coming in faster bursts as your muscles twitched, clenching around him. Heat bloomed at the base of your spine, thick and molten, curling tighter with every brutal snap of his hips until it was all you could do to breathe.

"Fuck-god yes-"

He didn’t stop. Didn’t soften. He just growled, pulled out with a curse, and flipped you over in one effortless move, dragging your hips up until you were on your knees, chest still pressed to the mat.

"Thought you were tough," he rasped, voice scraping hot against your ear.

You barely caught your breath, heart hammering in your chest, your body still twitching with aftershocks, when he grabbed your hips and shoved back inside you from behind in one brutal, claiming thrust. The impact rocked you forward with a gasp, your hands bracing against the mat to keep from collapsing.

"Fuck, Bucky-"

His hips snapped forward, dragging a broken moan from your lips. "Say it again," he growled.

"Fuck, Bucky!"

He was deeper like this-thicker, overwhelming. You choked out a moan as your walls clamped down hard around him, the sound raw and broken. One of his hands wrapped tightly around the back of your neck, keeping you down, the pressure firm but grounding, while the other dragged between your legs with unrelenting purpose. His fingers found your clit and began rubbing ruthless, tight circles that made your entire body jump.

"That’s it. Give it to me," he murmured, low and possessive.

You bit down on your own forearm to stifle the sound building in your throat, but it was useless. The sensation was too much, too fast. The drag of him inside you was merciless-slick and raw, every stroke grinding against your tender walls, forcing you wider with each thrust. The sound of your bodies colliding was obscene, wet and rhythmic, as though he was carving himself into your core with every brutal snap of his hips. He didn’t just fill you-he overwhelmed you, like his cock was made to split you open and stay buried until you forgot anything but the pulse of him pounding into that aching spot deep inside. Your muscles tensed-shoulders, thighs, back-locking up like you were going to snap in half.

"I’m gonna-shit-Bucky, I’m-"

Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train-merciless, sudden, all-consuming. Your vision went white at the edges as stars burst behind your eyelids, a raw scream tearing from your throat. Your body locked up, then convulsed, wave after wave of climax pulsing through you with maddening intensity. You twitched, your thighs quaking, your cunt spasming tight around him as overstimulation clawed at your nerves. A sob caught in your throat as he kept going, dragging every ounce of sensation from you until your muscles gave out entirely.

Behind you, Bucky snarled your name like a curse and a prayer, barely holding on. He slammed into you one final time and froze, his entire body trembling with restraint as your cunt clenched and fluttered around him, milking him with rhythmic, desperate spasms. His head dropped to your back, and for a moment he couldn’t even breathe.

"Fucking-god, you feel unreal," he choked out, hips giving a helpless jerk as he tried not to lose it too soon.

His hips jerked erratically, cock pulsing thick inside you. You felt the twitch and heat of him spilling deep, his release pushing you into another soft, shuddering aftershock. He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave an imprint, muffling his cry as his orgasm tore through him.

"You’re mine," he gasped, nearly inaudible, more instinct than declaration.

Your body gave out first. You slumped to the mat, arms too weak to hold you up. "You..you think you won that fight?" you panted, half-laughing, half-broken.

He followed you down, still buried inside, both of you breathless and slick with sweat. For a long moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the quiet creak of the gym around you.

He sagged over your back for a long moment, still inside you, both of you panting, sweat dripping from his forehead to your spine.

Eventually Bucky pulled out with a groan and flopped beside you, still catching his breath.

Neither of you spoke.

Not yet.

"Think anyone heard that?"

You let out a dry laugh, turning your head slightly where it rested against the mat. "If they didn’t, they’ll see the marks tomorrow."

He let out a rough sound beside you, one arm flung over his eyes like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Gonna have to bullshit my way through a morning meeting."

"Not my problem," you said, still breathless but smiling. "I don’t recall you complaining."

"I’m not. But if I stand, I’m going to fall."

You snorted, finally shifting enough to flop onto your back, your chest still rising and falling. "You going to get in trouble?"

He rolled his head toward you, expression unreadable but softer around the edges. "Probably. You?"

You exhaled slowly. "Definitely."

A pause stretched between you, thick with the weight of what just happened. But when he passed you your tank, his fingers brushed yours-slow, warm, deliberate. Like he wanted you to notice.

"Same time next week?" he asked, a flicker of something more in his voice.

You met his gaze, smirking.

"Sooner."

TAGS: @ruexj283, @yesiamthatwierd, @trojanaurora, @hextech-bros

okay like kinda true but we love his dumb hunkyness

Chris Evans reads Mean Tweets on Jimmy Kimmel Live, 2018

STRANGER THINGS PORN LINKS

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 800 celebration edition !! ࿐ྂ

includes: steve, eddie, jonathan, billy, 001/peter, jim, enzo/dmitri

warning: these are twitter links that contain porn !!

navigation | masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ steve harrington

roommate!steve eating you out while you’re reading

riding steve while he pounds into you

dom!steve fucking you hard from behind

69 with coworker!steve

best friend!steve fingering you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ eddie munson

doggystyle with best friend!eddie

sucking eddie’s dick in the bath tub

eddie not being able to resist you as he comes on your ass

roommate!eddie breeding you full

slow sex on eddie’s couch

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jonathan byers

riding best friend!jonathan in his room

jonathan eating you out on his couch

breeding + squirting with jonathan

being tied up while choking on jonathan’s dick

missionary with neighbor!jonathan

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ billy hargrove

reverse cowgirl with roommate!billy

giving coworker!billy a blowjob after work

car sex with billy

overstimulating sub!billy

doggystyle with enemy!billy

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 001/peter ballard

enemy!peter pounding into you from behind

dom!peter spanking and fingering you

sucking best friend!peter’s dick

coworker!peter making you squirt in the bathroom

reverse cowgirl in your pretty clothes

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jim hopper

dom!jim making you choke on his dick

doggystyle with jim

slow sex with jim after work

jim making you scream by using a glass dildo

rough sex with neighbor!jim

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ enzo/dmitri antonov

sitting on dmitri’s face

giving boss!dmitri a blowjob

neighbor!dmitri fingering you

bathroom sex with dmitri

dmitri fucking you from behind against the wall

Stucky Avengers  +  Cards Against Humanity

pretty sure i could romanticise anything, i am deeply delusional.