A New Uniform

this is one of the best fanfics i’ve ever read holy shit

Raw | bucky barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: she just wants bucky to fucking destroy her insides and rearrange her guts, but bucky's scared so he rejects her before another one of their love making sessions. she gets mad so making him jealous is the only way left to get him to fulfill her fantasies.

warnings: jealous!bucky, possessive!bucky, rough sex, breeding kink if you squint, strong language, degradation, a little angst, slapping, spit kink, angry bucky, choking, unprotected sex (wrap y'alls fucking sausages you guys) bucky calls reader 'little girl' i think that needs a warning of it's own

DO NOT REPOST OR STEAL MY WORK OR I'LL FIND YOU.

She can feel his eyes on her figure as she dances; her hips sinfully pressing against the stranger's front, his fingers dancing over her exposed waist and lips placing open mouthed kisses against her sweaty neck.

She's playing with fire, she knows it. Knows how jealous Bucky gets when he sees her with another man. But she wants him, not his unsure touches and gentle fingers that treated her like a porcelain doll— no.

She wanted his rough movements. She wanted his stubble to scrape against her inner thighs. His teeth to nibble at her skin, fingers calloused from fights to pinch every part of hers that was calling out to him— she wanted him to corrupt her. Break her. Make her reach her limits, though she feels like with him she doesn't have any. She wants him to fucking ruin her.

Her eyes make contact with his dazzling blue ones, which, even in the dark club seem to be shining more than ever. The red and blue neon lights cast shadows over his figure as his jaw clenches, grip tightening on the glass he seems to be holding but not bothering to take a sip from ever since he got there with the rest of the gang.

To provoke him further, she reaches out behind her and grips the stranger's head, pulling him closer to her. With a slight upward curve of her red tainted lips, she smirks at him and he breaks.

She feels him before she can see him. His metal arm grips her waist, and with one glare at the stranger he has her pressed against himself. His flesh hand finds it's way into her hair and he yanks her head back, nostrils flaring when he sees her smirk grow wider.

"It's not been one day and you're acting like a fuckin' whore." He breathes out right into her ear, "And just because I rejected you? Pathetic, even for you."

His tone is fucking condescending and it makes her blood boil. She pushes him away with all her strength and flips her hair, scoffing up at him.

"Don't flatter yourself, Barnes. Rejected me?" She huffs out a bitter laugh, "I always knew you'd come running back to me. No other girl can make your dick hard the way I can."

His eyes darken immensely. She realizes that the two of them are having a full possessive fight in the middle of the dancefloor and before she manages to embarrass herself by continuing the fight which would probably end up with her on her knees and his cock in her mouth, she glares at him and walks away.

She knows that he'd follow her. Which is why she chooses to go right into the bathroom where they'll have a chance at privacy.

She was right, because as soon as she's looking into the mirror to fix her hair, she hears the lock click and sees Bucky leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest.

"You make me sick." She stares at him in the mirror.

"I could say the same about ya."

She grinds her teeth, "I'm sick of you pretending that you don't want me."

Bucky huffs out a sarcastic chuckle at that, shaking his head in disbelief, "What part of 'I will absolutely destroy you' can't get through your thick skull? You can't possibly expect me to lose control around you, no matter how fuckin' hard it is."

She turns around to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. "What part of 'I want you to destroy me' do you not understand, James? I've done fucking everything to make you understand that I can protect myself, that i'm sure you will never hurt me. I'm tired of you treating me like a doll that would break with the slightest of touches. I see it in your eyes how much you want to fulfill my dreams and fantasies, but holding yourself back just because you think I can't hold my own is pretty dumb of you, I must say."

Bucky sighs, glancing down at the floor, "You have no idea how I get when I lose control."

"Then fucking show me." His head snaps up, "Or I won't expect you to be there to watch and come swooping in the next time I go whoring around looking for someone who fucks me like a bitch in hea—"

She doesn't get the chance to finish as she's pressed against the wall, metal arm against her throat and a furious Bucky glaring into her eyes.

"I'm not fuckin' leavin' you alone ever again. Not even after that empty threat." He swallows hard, tightening his grip around her throat as her lips fall open, "You're mine."

A dry chuckle leaves her mouth, she sounds like she's choking but for some reason even that is attractive to Bucky, "Prove it."

His lips crash into hers and he hoists her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as her arms wrap around his neck. He prods her lips with his tongue, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth making her gasp before his tongue enters her mouth and explores every inch of her sweetness. They're breathing hard through their nose, revelling in each other's taste. She can feel his dick hardening and he presses it hard against her clothed cunt, making a throaty moan escape her parted lips.

"Bucky, please—" she begs as he starts kissing down her neck, his teeth nibbling on her collarbone, hands trying to unzip his jeans. She's panting hard, eyes closed and Bucky really wants to ravish her right there, against the cold and dirty wall.

"I won't be able to stop." He whispers against her skin and she helps him pull himself out of his pants.

"Fucking don't."

That's all it takes him before he runs his hands up her legs and thrusts his whole cock inside her without any prep. She cries out in a sweet mixture of pain and pleasure, but he doesn't give her time to adjust before he's fucking her raw without so much as a thought. He's fucking her like an animal— loud grunts leaving his mouth as her hands scramble to hold onto him. He doesn't have any of it though, takes both of them with one hand and holds them over her head as his metal arm wraps around her throat again, fucking her to the point she starts crying.

"Fuck, Bucky!" she cries out and he throws his head back, eyes closing shut.

"This is what you wanted, right?" He thrusts harder, angling his hips better so his dick presses right into her g-spot, making her gasp, "Me using you as nothing but a fucktoy, my thick cock fuckin' ruining that sloppy cunt of yours till you beg me to stop?"

His dirty mouth keeps her going as she feels herself getting close. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to get out of his tight grip because she just wants to touch him but he's not letting her. He groans loudly on hearing her moan his name like a prayer— bucky bucky bucky please bucky.

Her legs feel like jello when he speaks up next, "Open your mouth, little girl."

She obeys, slipping into her submissive role. He spits into her mouth.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she swallows and opens her mouth again, but before she knows it his metal arm connects with her cheek and she's abruptly facing towards the right.

She cries out at the burn.

"Don't be a fuckin—" he accentuates his words with a harsh thrust, "Greedy bitch and take what I give you."

He doesn't let her breathe, hips snapping so rapidly into hers, dick piercing through her tight little cunt and her fluids dripping all over her thighs— she's about to cum.

"Bucky— fuck, Bucky i'm about to cum—"

"Hold it."

She starts crying at that, fresh angry tears rolling down her cheeks and ruining all her makeup. She slams her head back into the wall, "Bucky please."

"I said hold it, little girl."

She starts begging even more, completely letting go of her pride and dignity as she cries about him not letting her cum. All that escapes her lips is a string of let me cum i can't take it please bucky, please and he smirks at that, shoving his fingers into her throat.

"That will shut you up for a while. This is what you wanted anyways, fuckin' bitch." She gags on his fingers, her pussy clenching sinfully around his cock, making him moan. "Why beg me to fuck you like a whore— fuck— when you can't take it, huh?"

She moans around his fingers, spit running down her chin as her pussy keeps clenching around his abnormally large and thick cock. She's eternally grateful to all the gods when he orders her to cum.

And fucking hell— she's never had an orgasm that powerful before. She sees stars as her whole body tenses up, an embarrassing groan leaving her throat as the milky white fluid runs down her pussy in such a filthy manner, even the kinkiest of the bunch would have looked away.

That doesn't stop Bucky from thrusting into her. He goes even faster as her body goes limp in his arms, using her pussy as a means to achieve his own well earned orgasm. Her cum works as lube, sliding in and out of her even easier and his energy doesn't falter when he holds her against the wall by the throat and breeds her like a bitch in heat.

With a last groan, he spills into her, thrusts turning sloppier as her pussy milks his cock like there's no tomorrow. She whimpers and he slowly and carefully pulls out of her, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. He offers her support with one arm while zipping his jeans with the other, and then pulls her into his arms.

"Fuck." she whispers and he cradles her head against his chest. Without another word, he hoists her up and walks out of the bathroom, where there were a few angry teenagers waiting for them to get the hell out.

Steve, Natasha and Sam give their passing figures a knowing smile as he walks out of the club and offers to get her home— and when she gives him a lazy smile in return, he feels his heart skip a beat.

Love is a fucking bitch.

REBLOG if you have amazing, talented WRITER friends.

Because I certainly do, and I love every single one of them and their work.

reckless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!sam wilson, platonic!natasha romanoff, platonic!steve rogers

warnings: mentions of injuries, descriptions of fighting, angry bucky, a horrible ending, i kind of really hate this

about: “the things i feel for her are unlike anything i’ve ever felt before.” for a sleepover!

i actually wrote another one with the same quote but i didn’t think it fit so i changed it (that one will be posted tomorrow or the day after so i can edit it)

you’re annoyingly reckless to a point where it gets dangerous.

he’s told you this a thousand times before but you don’t listen- aren’t listening at the moment.

he knows it’s ironic that he’s being reckless by not paying attention to what’s going on, too concentrated on you- even if you’ve told him countless times that you literally can’t die (to which he responds with a “you never know!” because, really do you?)- but he has a metal arm and sam, who’s been hovering around him like a vulture after noticing his lack of concentration.

Keep reading

OH. OH NO. PLSSSS WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

lessons in lovemaking [part three]

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

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

Word Count: 9.9k

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

main masterlist | series masterlist

"Go for the left."

Kate blinked. "The left?"

"Yes."

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

"That’s the one."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Bucky?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Apprentice," Yelena corrected smoothly.

You blinked. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky twisted fast, but not fast enough.

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

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

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

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

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

You scoffed. "Give her some credit—"

A sharp smack rang through the gym.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound of running water guided you to the sinks.

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

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

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

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

“You did,” he muttered flatly.

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

“I’m fine.” he grumbled.

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

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

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

Bucky huffed. “Feels broken.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you sleep well, at least?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve, on the other hand, still looked perplexed. 

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

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

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

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

Without thinking, you flicked water in his direction.

He flinched back with a slight grimace. 

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

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

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

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

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

But it didn’t matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yelena scowled at you. “It’s fine!” 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Sloppy,” she remarked.

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

But something was off.

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

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

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

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

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

“Pleased about what?” you asked cautiously.

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked back at her, expression blank.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what I mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“You know what I mean,” she said.

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

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

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

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

“Never.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

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

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

But it only lasted a second before Natasha lunged again.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shot her a scowl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four flights up, your phone dinged.

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

Can I see you tonight?

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

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

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

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

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

Not my scene.

A pause.

Is that a no?

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

You typed quickly.

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

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

Another ding.

Please?

That was all it took.

You pushed open the door.

On my way.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like me touching you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He exhaled slowly, brows knitting in thought. 

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

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

He nodded once. “Yeah. I think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s do it.”

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

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

That was all the encouragement you needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You paused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god—” He began to whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

And then… you felt him. Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. Your smile widened, slow and predatory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suspicion flickered in his gaze, but you forged ahead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing?” he repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

“What does?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then his voice turned quieter. Uncertain.

“I feel bad,” he murmured.

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

“Bad?” you repeated, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your resolve crumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you were grateful.

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

Your breath caught in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

The cheerful voice stopped cold. 

Steve.

---

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

OH MY LORD I NEED THIS MAN!!

Freak Like Me

Bucky x reader

Summary: You got banned from playing music in the training room for a reason, and when an unexpected song plays during your workout, Bucky finds out why.

Word Count: 2311

Thought I'd give you guys something a little more spicy! Hope you enjoy :)

You walked down the hall of the Avengers tower toward the training room, and it was uncharacteristically quiet. You knew a lot of the Avengers had meetings today, but you didn’t think everyone did. You were glad though, because you didn’t really like working out with other people and you could play whatever music you wanted over the speakers.

You listened to a little bit of everything, and that was true for working out too. The music would go from rap, to pop, to rock, and while you didn’t blink an eye, everyone else hated it. So, naturally, you got banned from playing music when everyone else was in there.

You walked around the corner into the training room and came to a stop. Bucky was inside warming up on the treadmill. Of course someone had to be in there, and of course it had to be Bucky. He of all people would be most likely to hate your music.

You hadn’t brought your headphones, and you thought about going back to get them when Bucky looked your way.

“Hey, y/n,” he said, turning off the treadmill.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” you said, realizing it probably looked like you were standing there staring at him.

You walked in and set your stuff down, plugging in your phone by the benches because you forgot to charge it last night.

“What are you hitting today,” Bucky asked.

“Steve is making me do his leg workout,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Yikes, have fun with that.”

Bucky walked over to pick up some weights as you were trying to decide whether or not to ask if you could play music. You assumed he would say no, but decided to ask him anyway.

“Hey Buck, is it cool if I play music?”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he said, surprising you.

“Oh, okay cool.” You went to your settings to connect your phone to the speakers, then pressed shuffle on your workout playlist. The first song that started playing was an old rock song, so you were hoping Bucky wouldn’t regret saying yes too much. Then, you walked over to the other side of the training room to get set up.

Your playlist went through a bunch of different genres, but thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to mind. You were both just minding your own business and doing your own thing.

A little bit later, a new song started playing and you heard Bucky call over to you.

“Hey, I actually know this one,” he said, with a proud smile on his face.

You just laughed, listening to the music and realizing it was Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. It would’ve came out after the 40s, but apparently Bucky still knew it.

But then, you started thinking, this song would not be on your workout playlist. Your eyes went wide when you realized what song it actually was. Freak by Doja Cat.

You quickly reached down for your phone to change the song, only to realize it was still plugged in on the other side of the room. Plus, you couldn’t just change the one song Bucky said he knew without him being suspicious.

You started to freak out, knowing the song would definitely make him uncomfortable, when the music paused for a brief moment. You held your breath for what was coming next.

“Freak like me. You want a good girl that does bad things (to you).”

You looked at Bucky, and you couldn’t see his face because he had his back facing you, but he had stopped in the middle of his workout. You started over to get your phone when he turned around.

“What the heck is this?” he asked, a mix of confusion and horror on his face.

You stopped, trying to figure out how to answer, when the song kept going.

“Tied him down to my queen bed. Tease him just enough to hate me. Tied it tight enough he can’t break free.”

You scurried over to the benches and grabbed your phone, quickly skipping the song. You tried to play it cool, but Bucky was already walking over to you.

“So, is this why you got banned from playing music? You play songs about sex?”

You sighed. “No, they just don’t like that I play so many different genres,” you said, your face heating up.

He just hummed in response, still staring at you with his steel blue eyes.

“And here I was, thinking that you were so innocent,” he said, smirking.

“It’s – just a good song,” you replied, trying to defend yourself. Your face was bright red at this point, and you knew he was loving this, making you squirm.

“So, which one of the guys are you wanting to tie down to your bed, hmm?”

Your jaw dropped, face flushing as you tried to figure out how to respond to that.

“No one,” you said, “it’s just a catchy song.”

“Right,” he responded, his smile getting a little bigger. You knew he was never going to let this go.

“Well, I’m gonna go back to my workout,” you said, walking past him. But before you could get very far, he grabbed your arm and turned you toward him in one quick motion. You were now standing chest to chest, your faces just inches apart.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you played that song on purpose. I mean, we are the only two people in the tower for another couple hours,” he said, his voice low and deeper than it was before, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your jaw dropped slightly once again, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. Your heart was thumping in your chest, and you hated to admit it, but him pulling you towards him and talking in that voice was making you insanely turned on.

You opened your mouth, but when nothing came out, Bucky’s smirk just got bigger.

“I – I didn’t play that on purpose,” was all you could say.

Finally, Bucky broke character and started to laugh, dropping his hand from your arm. Your skin was still tingling where his hand had been.

“I’m just messing with you y/n,” he said, laughing. “You should’ve seen your face though!”

You stood there in shock as he walked away, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened. You walked back to the other side of the room, but you weren’t able to focus on the rest of your workout. You didn’t dare look over toward Bucky, so you had no idea that his gaze kept shifting to you, distracted from his own workout.

You finished your workout as quickly as possible and made a beeline for the door, grabbing your phone and not saying a word to Bucky as you practically ran out the door.

You were halfway down the hallway before you finally felt like you could breathe again. You didn’t realize how you had basically been holding your breath that whole time. You got back to your room and quickly jumped in the shower, just wanting to relax after how worked up you were.

You stepped out of the shower when you realized you forgot to grab clothes to change into. You sighed, trying not to focus on how nothing seemed to be going your way today. You just wrapped your towel around you after drying off and walked out of the bathroom to your room.

You were halfway down the hallway before you looked up and stopped dead in your tracks. Bucky was standing outside the door to your room.

And you were standing in front of him in nothing but a little towel. Could this day get any weirder?

“Uhh, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Sorry I just – was gonna apologize, but – seems like you’re really trying to get my attention now,” he said, a smirk plastered on his face yet again.

You sighed, determined to not let him get under your skin this time. Maybe you’d have a little fun with him.

“And what if I am?” you said, giving him a smirk of your own.

His smirk turned into a brief second of shock, and you could tell he was caught off guard.

You sauntered down the hallway, walking right past him into your room, but not before running your hand along his arm as you walked past. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked into your room, not bothering to close the door.

You walked over to your dresser, bending over to get clothes out, knowing your towel was long enough to cover you, but not quite long enough to keep Bucky from going a little crazy. You made sure to pick out the tiniest pair of shorts you own and a cropped baby tee.

You turned around grabbing the top of your towel like you were going to drop it at any second. His face was bright red and he looked like a deer in headlights. Man was this fun.

“You standing there hoping for a show, or can I get dressed in peace?”

“Oh, uh – sorry,” he mumbled. He pointed at the door, “do you want me to, uh – never mind,” he put his head down and practically ran the other way.

You tried so hard not to bust out laughing as you went over and shut the door.

Once you put on your clothes, you walked back down to the kitchen to get something to eat. Conveniently, Bucky was right there, sitting at the island.

“Hey Buck,” you said, flashing him a smile.

He looked you up and down, obviously liking what you were wearing.

“Hey,” he finally managed to get out.

“Are you gonna make something for lunch,” you asked him.

“Uhh, yeah I was gonna make some eggs.”

“Oooh, that sounds good, maybe I’ll make some too.” You walked over to the drawer with the pans, exaggerating every movement as you bent over. You knew he was going insane.

“Do you want me to just make yours too,” you asked, not bothering to turn around. You set the pan on the stove, finally turning around when he didn’t answer you.

That’s when you realized he was right behind you, looking at you with a deep intensity in his eyes. He had been so flustered, you didn’t expect him to do anything about it.

He slowly leaned forward, arms grabbing the counter on either side of you, trapping you in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Umm, making eggs,” you said, slowly.

“Are you tryna’ kill me, doll?”

The nickname made your stomach flutter.

“I was joking earlier,” he said, “I never thought you’d do it back.”

“And what makes you think I’m joking?” you responded.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’ve never seen you wear so little clothes around the tower.”

“I was still hot from my workout,” you said, shrugging.

“Oh, trust me, I am too,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

Bucky didn’t back up, and neither did you.

He looked down at you, his voice rough with restraint. “You keep playing with fire, doll.”

You tilted your head, meeting his stare without flinching. “Maybe I like the heat.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes darkened. For a moment, neither of you moved—until he reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek, trailing lightly down your jaw.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured.

“Good,” you whispered, your voice breathy.

And that was all it took. He leaned in fast, pressing his lips to yours with a force that stole your breath. One hand gripped the counter beside you, the other sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped into the kiss, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and he took that opportunity to deepen it—his lips moving hungrily against yours like he’d been waiting for this for far too long.

When you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“Still want eggs?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not really.”

Bucky’s smirk returned, but this time it was laced with something deeper—need, maybe, or anticipation. He backed you gently out of the kitchen, never breaking eye contact.

“Then come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s see how hot things can really get.”

And just like that, lunch was officially off the menu.

--

The next morning, you woke up tangled in warm sheets—and even warmer arms.

Bucky was still fast asleep behind you, his chest pressed to your back, metal arm draped lazily over your waist. His steady breathing tickled the back of your neck, and you smiled, remembering the very unexpected turn your day had taken.

You shifted slightly, and his grip tightened instinctively, pulling you even closer. “Mmm… don’t move,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“I thought super soldiers didn’t need this much rest,” you teased softly.

His lips brushed your shoulder. “They don’t,” he murmured. “But if it means waking up next to you like this…I’ll gladly pretend to be human.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin and reached behind you to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a sap.”

He grinned against your skin. “Only for you.”

Your phone buzzed from the nightstand, a text from Nat lighting up the screen:

You forgot to clean the pan from your “egg-making” session yesterday. Sloppy cover story, y/n.

You groaned and hid your face in the pillow as Bucky peeked at the message over your shoulder.

“So… busted?” he asked.

You sighed. “So busted.”

He laughed, pulling you closer again. “Worth it.”

And you had to admit—it really, really was.

I guarantee this would just make me a better person

Relief Mission (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mutual pining, flirt, and so much smut

Summary: The morning after and beyond.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby This one's for you @weekendgothgirl.

Part 1 of Relief Mission

You had no idea what time it was when it happened, probably the middle of the night. That strange sensation of falling hit you and you jerked awake to the realization that you were falling out of the bed. You had made yourself as small as possible, put yourself on the edge of the bed, to give Bucky room. Scrambling to keep yourself from hitting the floor, you feel a hand grab your waist and pull you back. Bucky fit your body to his in the small bed, burying his face in your neck. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, but there’s no answer from the man snuggling against you. “Bucky?” you try again but the only answer you receive is a moan as he flexes his hips more firmly into you. You bite your lip and debate what to do. You could try to extricate yourself but you imagine that the loose grip he holds is deceptive or maybe you just want it to be. You decide to stay where you are, it was where you wanted to be anyway. You smile as you fall back to sleep. 

The next morning, you wake with your face pressed to his chest, legs tangled with his, and your hands curled into his shirt. When a ray of light hits the one eye not shielded by his chest, you groan. 

“Piss off, sun. I’m not done with nighttime yet,” you mumble the sentiment, enjoying the feel of waking in someone’s arms. Bucky’s chest rumbles against your face. His laugh telling you he was awake and had heard you.

“Morning, doll,” he says quietly. You can hear the smile in his voice and bask in it for a moment.

“Mmm, morning. I know, I know. Gotta get up. Long drive,” you say mostly to yourself. 

“Five more minutes?” Bucky whispers. 

“I knew I liked you,” you smile as you nuzzle into his warmth. His arms tighten around you slightly. You fall into a hazy half-sleep, more comfortable than you should be with a man you barely knew. Rousing yourself a few minutes later, you take a deep breath, “Sorry,” you extricate yourself, sit on the edge of the bed, and grasp for words to explain why you were practically wrapped around him. “I, um… Thanks for saving me from hitting the floor last night,“ you say with a nervous little laugh. 

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you from where he’s still laid out on the bed.

“Last night?...” you read his confused expression and continue. “I almost fell out of the bed and you pulled me back. I, uh, guess you slept through the whole thing, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “I’m not surprised. I was probably crowding you.”

“No!,” you say too quickly. “Not at all. Anyway, we should get going. I’m going to change. My shirt should be dry by now. I’ll give your’s back.”

“No need, doll. Keep it. Looks-” Bucky cuts himself off.

“What?” you ask, curiously. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head with a sheepish smile.

“No, it’s okay. What were you going to say?” 

“It, um, it looks better on you anyway,” Bucky quietly says and then stares, waiting for your reaction. 

“Oh,” you smile, heat creeping up your face. “Okay. Th-thanks. I’ll be out in just a minute.”

Bucky kicks himself as you scramble into the bathroom. His stupid mouth always seemed to run ahead of his brain around you. You probably thought he was an idiot. 

You stood in the bathroom for a minute and couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. He was so adorable. Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you get ready quickly. You still had to get to the rendezvous point to join the rest of your team. 

The drive was long but it was as if a dam had broken between you and Bucky. Perhaps the shared intimacy of sleeping in each other's arms had made the awkwardness melt away. Whatever the reason, the polite conversation and long silences you had formerly shared with the metal-armed supersoldier had turned into laughs and getting to know each other. He was surprisingly funny and incredibly sweet. The stories he told were endearing. You even managed to make him laugh. He asked questions and listened to you prattle on. 

By the end of the drive, your attraction to him had become a full blown crush. However, there was no time to dwell on it as the team immediately went on to the next part of the mission. It was a few days before you were back home and settled down from the action. You were happy when Bucky sought you out more often after that. You spent time together, laughed, and just enjoyed each other. The only thing that was bothering you is that he had never made a move in the two weeks since that night. You were wondering if he just wanted to be friends. 

You had just closed your door after hanging out with the team for the night when there was a knock. Opening the door, you look curiously at Bucky as he leans against the doorjamb. 

“Hey. What's up?” you ask, your heart beating faster.

“Do you ever think about that morning? Waking up together?” Bucky looks at you. His eyes are filled with such tenderness and just a tinge of fear. 

“All the time. All the time,” you smile widely and pull him through the door.

He shuts it as he walks through and your heart soared as he wrapped you in his arms. You stared into each other's eyes, taking each other in and then the tension snapped. His lips found yours and he kissed you until you were dizzy. It was as if neither of you wanted to separate. When he finally pulls away, you smile at each other. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” Bucky says, his hand caressing your neck. 

“What took you so long?” you tease. 

“I’m a little out of practice at the whole dating thing,” Bucky chuckles while his cheeks tinge pink. 

“Does that mean you want to date me?" You bite your lip.

"Yeah, doll. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?" Bucky asks, nervously.

"Why don't you take me to breakfast in the morning?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Uh, sure. If that's what you want. I'll see you in the morning," Bucky stutters in confusion. 

Realizing he hadn't taken your meaning, you decide to be a little more clear,  "Ya know, it's a long commute from my room to yours, maybe you'd like to just… stay the night?"

Biting your lip, you watch as realization dawns on Bucky's face. It's nearly comical. Sure, you were being forward but you'd practically walked around with a lady boner since that morning. Constantly hot and bothered from feeling him against you but nothing you did seemed to quell the ache. When Bucky stepped forward, his expression was full of wonder, as if he couldn't believe you had extended such an invitation.

He puts a hand on your neck and then pulls you to him for a kiss. You had expected it to be passionate as the one before had been but it was incredibly soft and tender. Your eyes flutter closed as you take in the moment. The feel of his lips, his hand caressing your neck, his metal arm going around your waist to pull you closer, and then suddenly, he breaks the kiss, bends down, and picks you up. You gasp as you put your arms around his neck and stare at him in surprise. Giving you a sweet smile, he walks to your bed and gently lays you on it. He follows you down, settling next to you before finding your lips again. His hands wander over your arms, your hips, your neck, as if he’s discovering you. Memorizing your curves and testing those spots that make you shudder. 

Taking some initiative, you put your leg over his and pull him closer. He rolls you under him, settling between your legs, and putting one hand under your shirt to feel your skin. You slide your hands under his shirt, feeling his warm skin, and push it up slowly. He takes the hint and leans back to pull it off. Running your hands over his chest, the ache between your legs becomes more pronounced. 

When you look into his face, he plucks at the hem of your shirt, the question in his eyes clear. You lift yourself up to help him pull it off and you’re a little surprised when he reaches behind your back and unclasps your bra with ease. He registers your surprised expression and pulls away. 

“I’m sorry. I should- I should’ve asked,” Bucky begins to stutter. 

You put your fingers to his lips and shake your head gently, “I was just surprised at how easily you did that. The answer’s yes.” You pull the bra off and throw it aside, immediately pulling him to you and enjoying the delicious warmth of his chest pressed to yours. You kiss his neck, dragging your tongue across the stubble there. 

Bucky shudders and whispers desperately, “Doll, I’m trying so hard to go slow.”

“Why?” You say against his skin, “You don’t have to go slow.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky groans. 

You let out a little laugh, “I’m not fragile. You won’t hurt me, baby.” To drive home your point, you nip at his neck. And just like that, the dam is broken. Bucky presses you into the mattress, your hands intertwined as he kisses you with abandon. His hips flex into yours and you moan as you wrap your legs around him. He drags his lips down your neck and pays special attention to your breasts as he practically rips open the zipper on your jeans. You shimmy as he pulls them, along with your panties, down your legs and tosses them aside. He’s nearly feral as he pushes your legs apart as wide as he can, stretching your cunt open to him. His mouth attacks your clit and you arch. 

“Jesus! Fuck, Bucky! Oh my god!” Your words melt into moans as he fucks you with his tongue. You arch and keen with each motion over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair as he eats you. It’s nearly too intense but you wouldn’t stop him to save your life. You’d never felt anything this incredible and it wasn’t long before you cried out, “I’m coming! Fuck! Oh, God, oh, God!” You were babbling as Bucky never even thought to stop or slow down. He kept going as if he’d never tasted anything as divine as you, as if his sole goal in life was to make you feel those incredible waves crash over you. He changed his angle and speed a second later and it had you building more quickly than you knew you could. You were bucking uncontrollably, chasing that friction he was creating, and then your body went taut, “Bucky! Baby, fuck! I- Ohhh!” Your voice died out as your whole body spasmed with the orgasm he had pulled from you. You felt like a ragdoll as you came back to yourself. You look down at Bucky where he’s watching you from between your legs, only his eyes visible as he slowly circles your clit. 

“Glad you aren’t fragile, doll. I’m not done yet,” Bucky smiles as he slides his fingers inside you and flicks his tongue more firmly against you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, “I can take it.” 

You grab handfuls of the sheets as his fingers find that spot inside you and the feeling of his tongue pushes you higher. You still manage to push the words past your lips, “Just remember, I get to taste you next. Fuck, it’s gonna be so good.” You feel your cunt gush as you say the words and Bucky growls, sending vibrations through you. “That’s right, baby. Gonna suck that cock. Want to feel it hitting the back of my throat. Gonna make you weak, oh fuck, from my mouth. Bucky! I’m gonna-” you scream, you can’t stop yourself. The orgasm that rips through you is the most intense thing that you’ve ever felt. You ride it out, one hand in Bucky’s hair to hold him in place as the incredible aftershocks hit you. When Bucky’s tongue starts making those delicious circles again, you laugh as you pull his head away from you, “my turn, handsome.”

He crawls up your body and hovers above you for a moment, looking at your debauched expression, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You smile and reach up to touch his face before catching him off guard and flipping him under you. Hovering over him, you smile, “I want to.” You lean down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips and grinding your soaked pussy over his considerable bulge. Pulling back, you stare into his eyes as you slide down his body. You pull his sweatpants off and lick your lips as his length bobs in front of you. “Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this.” You wrap your hand around him and give a long lick across his tip. 

“Doll!” The heels of Bucky’s hands are pressed into his eye sockets as if he’s in the most pain… or pleasure of his life. 

“What is it, baby?” you tease, repeating the action. You swirl your tongue around his head as you watch his breathing pick up. 

“I can’t, I’m gonna explode,” he whimpers. 

“That’s kinda the point,” you smirk as you take him in your mouth, running your tongue along his underseam. 

“Jesus, doll, I’m serious! I don’t think I can hold myself back. It’s been too long. You feel fucking amazing,” Bucky moans. 

“Then don’t,” you say before sliding him back in. You fuck him with your mouth, sliding your tongue back and forth, pumping what you can’t fit with your hand, palming his balls, and moaning at the divine feel of him. You employ every trick you know to give him pleasure. He fists the sheets, breathing heavily, and tries not to buck his hips. 

“Doll, I’m gonna… Where- oh, fuck, Doll!” Bucky’s pleas end on a long moan as you slide him into your throat. You hold back your gag reflex as Bucky explodes, filling you with his spend. It’s almost too much but you manage to relax and swallow. His hands nearly shred your sheets. He was incredibly turned on that you would even do this for him but when you slid him all the way in and let him come down your throat, he didn’t think he’d stop coming. His balls tightened up harder than ever before and all he wanted was to make you feel as incredible. You slide him out carefully and move to curl up beside him. “I need more,” Bucky’s voice is gravelly. 

“Oh, sorry, of course,” you sit up to move back down the bed but don’t make it far.

“No,” Bucky says as he lifts you and sets you down with a knee on each side of his head. “Just like this,” he says, pulling you down to sit on his face. Grabbing hold of your headboard, you gasp as pleasure rolls through you. Bucky’s hands knead your ass as he flicks his tongue over your clit again and again. 

“Bucky!”

“Ride my face, doll. Come on, you deserve it after that little show you put on,” Bucky uses his grip on you to move you back and forth, encouraging you to take your pleasure from him. You’re tentative at first but then the pleasure rolls through you as you grind against his tongue. As you roll your hips, he moves his head back and forth adding to the friction. Twisting to look back, you see his cock hardening again and all you can think of is riding it rather than his face, letting him fill you up, and as the image runs through your mind, your cunt spasms.

“Fuck! Bucky! I need you! I need you inside me,” you say the words desperately as you scramble down his body. He’s still only semi-hard but you line him up with your entrance and sink down. “Oh, fuck, yes,” you whimper as you slowly move your hips, eyes rolling back in your head at the pure hedonism. 

Bucky grabs your hips, staring at where your two bodies meet, indulging in the fact that he’s finally buried inside you. “You feel amazing, doll. Fuck.”

“Bucky,” you moan as you feel him growing inside of you, stretching you, hitting deep. “Bucky, I can’t stop. It’s so good, so fucking good,” you babble as you build momentum. You grind your hips against him, pleasure building with each motion.

“I wanna see you come on top of me, doll. Look at me, look in my eyes and come all over my cock. I want to see you fall apart. Give it to me,” Bucky commands. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine as your orgasm breaks over you. Staring into his eyes, your mouth forms an O as you lose yourself to the spasms. Your hips stutter and Bucky holds your face as he watches you. 

“I know, I know, babydoll. Good girl. You feel so good riding my cock. Just had to have it in you, huh? Couldn’t let me feel you come on my tongue one more time, you needed this cock inside you. Well, I hope you meant it when you said you weren’t fragile. We’re not done yet,” Bucky smiles cockily as he rolls you under him. He starts to move his hips in a slow rhythm, making you lift your knees to wrap your legs around him, arching to give him better access. 

Sex had never been this good. It had never felt like this. Never been this thorough and pleasurable. You were lost in it. Lost in him. He could do anything to you at this point and you would beg for more. 

“Bucky, Bucky, oh god, Bucky, please,” you moan. 

“Please what, doll?” Bucky murmurs in your ear. 

“More, harder, please!” you whine. 

“Good girl,” Bucky praises, “You want more, huh? Yeah, you need it, don’t you? Tell me.”

“I need it. Please, baby, I need more!”

Bucky pulls your legs up, throwing them over his shoulders and begins fucking into you with hard, fast strokes making you cry out. It was intense and you felt your cunt tightening around him.

“Yeah, that’s what my babydoll needed. Fuck, you feel good. You're squeezing me tight, taking me so good,” Bucky’s hands are everywhere, holding your hips, feathering over your nipples, caressing your neck. 

Your brain goes into complete overdrive between his hips driving into you relentlessly and the words of a sex god spilling out of his mouth. Fuck, it was just the first time and you were addicted to him already. You were gonna need a dose of him every day for the rest of your life. 

“Come on, doll. Come for me again. I’m so close but I need to feel you do that all over my cock again. Give it to me,” Bucky demands sweetly. 

“Ohhhh, fuuuck,” you whine as your orgasm slams through you. You nearly black out from the intensity but you will yourself to watch as Bucky loses himself to the fluttering of your cunt around him. His roar of pleasure as he emptied himself into you makes your cunt grip him even tighter. When he’s spent, he lowers your legs and gently lays down beside you. Pulling you against him, he kisses your neck and you smile. 

“See, not fragile at all,” you quip, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I hope not, doll. After all, this is just a break. We’re not done yet,” Bucky chuckles. 

Your eyes widen but, never one to back down from a challenge, you reply, “Barely started, baby.”

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one more round | b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is filthy so lets get to it, bucky fucks you like he hates you, choking, spit kink, light face slapping, spanking, daddy kink, oral + fingering ( r! ) , degrading, praise, squirting, nicknames ( princess, bunny ) , hard breeding kink, cum play, size kink

word count: 1.7k

author's note: part two to hate fuck ! i wasn't going to make a second one until i was re reading it while high and just needed to write hate fucking

Your phone buzzed under your thigh as you were laid out on the couch in your living room. You were waiting for Bucky to get back home from one of the missions he was sent on. It was only for a few weeks, but you weren't allowed to know about any of it until he got back.

Grabbing your phone, you closed your book and set it down on the coffee table, seeing the text from Steve.

Grabbing your phone, you closed your book and set it down on the coffee table, seeing the text from Steve.

Mission didn’t go too well. He’s pissed.

You blushed reading that. You knew Steve was only telling you so you were aware of Bucky’s temper and that it wasn’t about you. But you knew what it actually meant.

You felt a shiver down your spine as you texted back a simple, ‘thanks 4 the heads up’. You locked your phone, setting it down on top of your book as you heard the front door unlock. You sucked in a short breath, as you heard his boot being dropped on the hardwood floor, the metal clinking of his weapons from his vest hanging on the wall.

You set your blanket to the side and got up to go greet Bucky. As you rounded the corner, you saw him turn at the same time and he let out a sigh the second his eyes connected with yours.

“Baby,” He made a few long strides to get to you, stepping over the mess he had created with the clothes pile around him and pushing you up against the door, his flesh hand wrapping around your throat. You grabbed his wrists, letting out a soft moan as his lips crashed with yours, his entire body pressing against yours. 

He pushed his hips into your stomach, feeling his hard cock through his jeans. he let out a soft, ‘fuck’ against your lips as he soaked in the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. He bit down on your bottom lip as his metal hand came to meet your core through the thin material of your shorts. He rubbed his middle finger up and down your slit, occasionally prodding your hole through the material. 

You whined against his lips, feeling like absolute putty in his hands the second he teased your hole. You tried to move your hips to get a little more, but you were met with a light slap on the cheek with his flesh hands. 

“Don’t fuckin’ move, princess.” He grabbed your cheeks, opening your mouth before collecting some spit on his tongue, and spitting onto your stuck out tongue. Your eyes never left his as you took your tongue back and swallowed his spit, licking your bottom lip and sticking your tongue back out again.

“Greedy, aren’t you?” You let out a soft moan as you nodded. He smirked, grabbing your throat against and guiding you towards the couch. He let you go before turning you around and bending you coover the back of the couch. You squealed as you pressed against the tops of the couch cushions as Bucky grabbed your hips harshly.  He dug his fingers into your skin, before tearing the loose shorts off of you in one go, tossing them to the side. 

“You’re gonna take what Daddy gives you, understand?” You looked behind you and caught his eye. They were darkened with lust, a hungry look in his gaze as he slapped your ass with a harsk smack. 

“Dumb bunny already?” He harshly squeezed your ass as you nodded. He laughed, shaking his head as he kicked your legs apart and snak to his knees. He spread your ass cheeks wide, showing your glistening pussy to him.

"Such a whore, going around with no panties. It’s like you were waiting for me.” You let out a soft moan as you felt his hot tongue swipe up through your folds, before circling your dripping hole and going back down to your clit. He groaned against you, keeping your legs spread open, teasing you with his tongue for a little while. 

He couldn’t help it, he hadn’t tasted your pussy in three weeks. It drove him mad knowing that you were here waiting for him. You both had ended having phone sex multiple times when he was able to because he was that obsessed.

And you ended up admitted that you had touched yourself on the nights you didn’t have phone sex. You couldn’t help but touch yourself at the thought of him. It didn’t piss him off, if anything it turned him on even more knowing went against him just for him to fuck your brains out. 

He loved that teasing side of you.

He swirled his tongue back down to your hole before bringing his flesh fingers to your dripping cunt, and pushing two in easily. You let out a moan as he practically drooled at the sight of your pussy taking his fingers so fucking easily.

“Oh, baby… You hear that?” He started to fuck your pussy a little faster with his fingers, and all you could hear was the squelching of your pussy. You let out a moan, nodding as you pushed against him. 

“Hear how fucking slutty you sound? Shit baby…” He kept going, and you curled your toes as you felt your orgasm approaching. You couldn’t help but rock against his fingers as he fucked you mercilessly with his fingers.

“Oh, Buck ‘m gonna cum..” You let out a pathetic moan as you felt his thumb press against your clit as he took himself out of his jeans and boxers. He started stroking himself, spreading his precum over the length of his cock as he fucked you on his fingers faster. You clenched your fingers as you came, moving your hips against his fingers.

“Dripping down my fucking hand, bunny.” You heated up, hiding your face in the pillow as he tsked, taking his fingers from your pussy and standing up, taking off his jeans and boxers all the way, tossing them to the side. He leaned over your bent frame and you felt his cock rub against your dripping folds.

You instantly pushed back against him, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you. And he knew that, fuck did he know how bad you whined and begged for his cock while he was gone. You were insatiable and he couldn’t get enough.

He grabbed your hair and tugged, arching your back as you felt his chest against your back and the cool metal from his dog tags. Snaking his hand around he placed his two fingers that were soaked with your slick into your mouth and you sucked.

At the same time, you felt him slip inside of you, and you moaned against his fingers, pushing back into him. He let out a breathy moan, tugging your hair hader as he snapped his hips into yours at a quick pace. 

He felt your pussy squeeze him as he fucked into you faster, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear. You felt him smirk against the shell of your ear as he pulled his fingers from your lips and let go of your hair to grip your hips harshly, getting one more harsh thrust in and pulling out. 

He helped you up before tossing his shirt off and tearing off yours, leaving it into the pile around the room. He gripped your hips as you jumped into his arms, his dick sliding right into your pussy as you let out a moan. He hiked your legs up a bit higher than his hips and wrapped his arms around your back so you were folded as he fucked right up into your cervix.

You moaned as he thrusted quickly, his balls slapping against you and you could feel the tip of his cock in your stomach. He was moaning above you as he fucked you, and you couldn’t ever understand where he got this stanima from. He was fucking into you like he hated you.

“Fuck, this pussy if so fucking tight, princess. Take my fat cock so fucking well. Just my little cock sleeve, aren't you?” You moaned, tipping your head back as he pressed his lips against yours, and you squeezed his cock again, feeling another orgasm wash over you. Your nails dug into his back and he moaned into your mouth at the pain, his metal hand holding you as he pulled you away from his body just enough to rub your clit with his flesh hand.

You rolled your hips into his as he moved to the couch and laid you on the pillows, making sure to not let off your clit. The second he set you down with is cock still in your stomach and you were still bent at the knee, you squirted all over his cock, and his abdomen.

“Shit, baby. Did you just fucking squirt?” You moaned as you nodded as he fucked you throough your high, his arms untagnling from your body and your legs dropped. HIs metal hand grabbed your throat gently, not letting up on your clit as he chased his high. You came one more time the second you felt his hot cum spill into your cunt, leaking out and down your crack and his balls covered in your slick onto the couch.

“Can’t let anything go to waste, baby.” He fucked his cum back into you, grabbing a pillow and pushing it under your hips as he rocked his hips into yours. You arched your back as you felt his cock drag against your sensitive walls. He could feel your cunt flutter with each stroke, hearing how wet you sounded as he thrusted slow and deep.

“Gotta make it stick, baby. Fuck a baby into you, huh?” You squeezed his cock at the thought, feeling your face heat up once more as he grinned, leaning down and smashed his lips into yours. He let go of your throat and pulled away, spreading your legs as you let out a groan, your muscles sore. 

Pulling out, he leaned down to your pussy, his eyes connecting with yours as he licked up your pussy, both of your cum on his tongue. You let out a whine, licking your bottom lip as he smirked against you, lashed fluttering against his cheeks as he slurped you clean. He pulled away and came back up to you, grabbing your mouth and forcing your mouth open, and letting the spit from his tongue mixed with his seed and your cum drip onto your tongue. You moaned as you felt it touch your tongue and you swallowed, a satisfied grin spreading on Bucky’s face.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

OML i need bucky in the forest rn

In The Woods

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 8,769

Warnings: Smut, excessive camping details (not sorry), felatio, teasing, idiots to lovers, and Bucky being a whole slut.

Listening to: Love You Madly by Cake

Summary: You like camping and Bucky does not understand why, so he tags along on your next trip.

Author's Note: THIS IS A REPOST. And it's my work, I can do what I want with it. So, if this is giving you that deja vu feeling, it's because I posted this on 01/23/23 at 5:30pm CST. only time I'm warning about that.. if I do another.. we're calling it a Repost Party. LFG.

Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”

“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”

“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”

By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is. 

You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it. 

🐌

Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack. 

The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.

You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway. 

He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences. 

Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going. 

“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip. 

Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”

Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered. 

Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation. 

🐌

Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.

You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun. 

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you. 

He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work. 

You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”

It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at. 

Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”

You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”

He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”

“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.

Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.

By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind. 

You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood. 

Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.

As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”

“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this. 

Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”

“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”

“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question. 

Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”

Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”

“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”

“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again. 

Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong. 

Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.

🐌

Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything. 

Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention. 

Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision. 

Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding. 

It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency. 

Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car. 

By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.

🐌

Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.

“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.

Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”

Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”

“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.

“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”

Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier. 

“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot. 

“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire. 

Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”

Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down. 

Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”

He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”

“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car. 

It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.

Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”

“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.

“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre. 

Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire. 

You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again. 

Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.

When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”

Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack. 

Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.  

As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe. 

🐌

A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine. 

It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it. 

“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”

“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”

You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking. 

Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”

“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”

“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”

Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited. 

You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”

This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”

Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it. 

He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age. 

“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt. 

Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”

“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”

You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”

“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information. 

“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.

All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”

That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be. 

He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”

Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”

“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice. 

The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again. 

Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret. 

Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. 

“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say. 

You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”

Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic. 

“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”

“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”

“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”

🐌

You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself. 

“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you. 

“I can’t,” you said but went back to it. 

You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.

“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this. 

You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”

He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”

“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”

Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky. 

“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”

“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have. 

He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”

You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”

He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”

“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason. 

“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up. 

Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.

Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”

“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”

You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”

Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake. 

He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”

He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”

“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away. 

Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”

He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”

“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land. 

You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”

“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”

He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”

“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”

It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”

His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect. 

Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”

“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face. 

Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him. 

“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”

“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said. 

“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”

All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”

“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it. 

You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip. 

Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”

Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”

You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier. 

Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake. 

As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy. 

He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”

“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower. 

The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover. 

Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet. 

You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”

With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”

“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction. 

It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this. 

You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.

Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time. 

Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group. 

Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan. 

“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower. 

He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants. 

Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you. 

He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma. 

“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there. 

Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now. 

He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”

“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”

Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”

All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it. 

You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”

He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.” 

He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric. 

“Fuck,” Bucky gasped. 

His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed. 

Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs. 

You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”

“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too. 

“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock. 

He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”

“Better or wor—”

“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke. 

Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”

He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”

Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”

As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it. 

With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head. 

Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”

He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”

His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”

The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”

You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”

“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting. 

Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it. 

When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds. 

“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed. 

His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now. 

Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap. 

“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground. 

His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much. 

Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”

You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”

Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”

He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”

🖤🖤🖤

Fuck everything. If you want to get tagged, let me know (comment, ask, message). I'm going to cut it off at 15, so first cum first served.

<3 hel.

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

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Archive Series

Sam: Why is Bucky sitting on Steve's lap frowning?

Natasha: They got into an argument because Steve laughed at Bucky for tying his shoelaces the bunny ears way.

Sam: But they're holding hands?

Natasha: Bucky doesn't like it when they fight.

Bucky: *betrayed soldier noises*