Brookie Barnes

She/her: Canadian: (22)

[lotsoflokilove23]

My Master List Of Stories

Hello! Welcome to my Master List of Stories! Here you will find everything I've written whether it's a long story, short story, an Imagine with Tom, or anything! To make it easier for you to find what you are looking for and or the order in which my stories go in! Hope you enjoy it! If you have any questions please feel free to ask!

Brooke <3

Loki's Forever Story {Short Story} - Chapter List

Good Morning Love {Tom Hiddleston}

Surprise! {Tom Hiddleston}

Spicy Time With Loki {18+}

Love Or Hate (18+) {Loki}

Kissing In The Rain Chapter list

The Journey Begins {Marvel roleplay Story} - Chapter List

Mine In The Moonlight - Chapter List

How Do I love Again? - Chapter List

More Than This {Loki Comfort}

I will continue to add to this as stories are posted! Hope this helps! Love you all! <3

Learn More about me here: Creator Of This Page

[lotsoflokilove23]

Yall why does my Home Screen look like this

[lotsoflokilove23]

GUYS did you hear Sebastian expecting a child?!

[lotsoflokilove23]

[lotsoflokilove23]

Someone cheer me up with Bucky posts 🥲

[lotsoflokilove23]

Ok so Bucky fans, you don’t want me posting Ai photos even if it’s very realistic? Am I right?

[starburstbarnes]

bad idea, right?

Summary: Bucky Barnes can totally handle an undercover mission with his ex. It was his idea to ask for her help, after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!fem!reader

Content: mentions of a friendly breakup so that means exes to lovers ;) reader wears a dress. slow burn + tension in denial + spice ;)) sam’s onto you guys. no use of y/n. cap quartet cameos bc everyone’s alive!

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: wow this fic got me out of writer’s block. inspired by various scenes in the captain america movies…you’ll see muahaha

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆

“Barnes, I’ve seen you do a lot of dumb things,” Natasha muses, crossing her arms. “But this has to be a new low.” 

Bucky throws his head backwards onto the couch and decides he is definitely not in the mood for this. 

The team sits around the compound’s living room table, eating takeout and discussing their latest assignment: to infiltrate the gala of a secret crime syndicate.

This group specializes in art heists around the world. By hour three of debriefing, everything about intercepting small yet priceless stolen artifacts – on their way to be smuggled into some high-profile museum – was clicking into place. 

That is, until Bucky’s teammates determined he would be the one to go to the gala in person. And, looking for help, he messaged one of the retired Avengers – you. 

Now everyone wants to act like he’s the one who committed a crime.

They should be grateful you live in the same location where the event is taking place. And that you happened to be knowledgeable in the arts world prior to your Avenging duties. It’s not his fault they’re sending him to a huge city he’s never been to. More than anything, your stealth and background will be a perfect asset. Texting an ex-agent was a great idea. 

So you’re also his ex-girlfriend. What does it matter? 

Waving a utensil at him accusingly, Sam snickers. “Your brooding won’t get you out of this one.” 

“Whatever.” Bucky gives a singular roll of his eyes. “It’ll be fine. I’m over it.” 

“Right,” Natasha observes, judging how he very casually checks his phone for what must be the tenth time in the last two minutes. 

“Other potential contacts aside,” Steve – ever the mitigator – continues, “this is a job that’s a little out of our ordinary routine. That means we need to be precise. We’ve already established Bucky will infiltrate as a guest. We should also consider a group for surveillance, another for–” 

Bucky’s phone buzzes. He flips it over like it’s sizzling.

Shit. 

Shit. 

You agreed to help. 

Hell, you responded. 

This is good. Great! It’s exactly what he wanted! For the mission, of course. His flesh palm is only sweating because you hadn’t talked in a couple of months. Absolutely nothing to be– 

“Let me guess.” Sam’s voice goes sympathetic. “She said no?”

“Actually,” Bucky says defensively, “she said she’ll come out of retirement just this once. To join me on the field. That’s it. All business.” 

When the others stare blankly – expressions falling on along a spectrum of concern to amusement – he swallows. “You’re welcome.” 

“First of all, chill. Second of all, tell her we said thank you.” Turning to Sam as if Bucky weren’t even there, Natasha asks through a mouthful of food, “So how much are we betting?”

“Twenty five they get back together afterwards,” he declares.

“Alright, thirty if it happens before the mission’s even over.”

They lean over the table and handshake directly in front of him. Steve stifles a laugh with a bite. 

“Ha, ha.” Frustrated, Bucky feels his face flush. At least, he thinks it’s out of frustration. “You guys know you can trust me, right?” 

Natasha’s curls bounce when she nods exaggeratedly. “Oh, totally.” Then she leans back into her seat with a smirk. “Unrelated, but I think infiltration just became a three person party. You’re on it, Wilson.”

It takes everything in Bucky not to groan like a grounded teenager. That, quite possibly, is the worst case scenario. Sam was always teasing you two to no end even when you were dating. Not that Nat’s bluntness or Steve’s tendency to turn everything into a lecture would be much better. 

Quickly, Bucky shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll stay focused!” 

“Sure, now that I’m going,” Sam quips. 

“We have power in numbers here. Nothing personal, pal,” Steve offers – unconvincingly, given how his face still shows traces of the grin harassing Bucky since 1929. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he mumbles something about “being monitored” and “the audacity.”

The others go back planning or finishing up their food. After a few moments of moping, Bucky is about to re-engage in the conversation, but the reminder notification of your unopened message draws his eyes back to the phone. 

What he mentioned about your response was true. Mostly. He skipped over the last part. 

Glad to hear from you :) 

For a second, any mixed emotions dissolve into a different kind of blush. 

Reconnecting. That’s all this is. 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

The breakup was mutual. Super amicable, as most interactions with you are. With your retirement and Bucky’s mental health, it was simply time to move on. He was finally starting to accept that as an ending, not a footnote or an introduction to the next chapter. So even though he is in a better place now, Bucky swears he won’t shoot any shots. 

Sam thinks that’s the biggest lie he’s ever said. 

Normally a stakeout car below a freeway overpass wouldn’t seem like the best place to discuss this. This whole time, they’ve been sitting without exchanging a word. But you’re about to meet them with intel, and the event is already tonight. Avoiding the elephant in the room forever is impossible. Sam needs to break the ice. 

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Did she tell you what time she would get here?” 

“No.”  

“Okay,” he says, dragging out the last syllable skeptically. “Did she…tell you anything else?” 

“No.”

“And you didn’t tell her anything else?”

The musty air conditioner buzzes louder for a second. 

“Nope.” 

Blood pressure rising, Sam realizes he has to cut straight to the point. “Come on, don’t have any feelings about doing a mission with your ex?”

“You’re only asking because you have money riding on this.”

“That doesn’t answer my–” 

“We’re friends.” 

Sam’s face goes deadpan. 

“Shh,” Bucky hisses. 

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

“Whatever. I’m saying she’s here.” 

Hunching over to see through the windshield – this car was not built with Avengers in mind – they watch as another vehicle pulls up. Admittedly, it puts their mini beat-up one to shame. Bucky wishes they had driven something else as a good first-impression. The polished exterior of your car is sleek yet low-profile, as anticipated. 

He also expected you would look drop-dead gorgeous, but that doesn’t stop his breath from becoming shallow as soon as you step out. 

Even though you’re wearing civilian clothing to blend in, the cunning agent’s sparkle in your gaze is as strong as ever. You haven’t changed at all. If anything, you  became even more beautiful. Only you could make a sketchy underpass look like a runway. 

Sam snorts. “Some friendly eyes you’re making over there.”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky lies straight through his teeth. Literally, since it only took an instant for him to fold and grin absentmindedly. 

And, while your gaze is partially guarded, you’re returning the gesture with sparkling teeth. 

“I cannot believe I’m already third wheeling,” Sam mumbles, with only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Refusing to give him any other chances to comment, Bucky shoots him a dry look, opens the door, and forces himself to stroll across the clearing. 

“Hey!” he says as cheerfully as possible. This should be fine. 

Except that’s as far as his plan goes. Does he give you a hug? No, it’s too soon. A handshake is another option, but what the hell are you, bankers at a business meeting? 

He settles for shoving his hands straight into his pockets. “I really appreciate you helping us out with this. Thank you.” 

If you noticed him hesitating like an idiot, you don’t seem to mind. You still smile so widely. “Of course! No problem at all.” A beat. “Here’s, uh, the file you asked for.” 

He barely registers the manila folder you hold out, stamped and filled with information key to the operation. Right. How could he forget that while standing in the face of such a mesmerizing force to be reckoned with. 

“Yeah, I…probably need it, don’t I?” Bucky stammers, dragging his hands back out to take the envelope. 

You let out a breathy giggle. “Just like how you probably needed a bigger car.” 

The joke hangs in the air for a second, a test of the actual waters between you. At least the highway’s rumbling above is overwhelming enough to distract him from the violent pounding of his heart. 

Then, breaking into full on light-laughter, you punch his shoulder playfully. “It’s good to see you, Buck.”

He was not expecting that. The contact sends sparks flying throughout his entire body. 

Even if your hand might not have any rekindling intentions, looks like caution can be damned. 

“You too.” Bucky thinks another dumbass blush is coming on. But so far, so good (enough). An opportunity for small talk will not slip away. “I mean, it feels like it’s been forever! How is everything?” 

Much to his relief, continuing the conversation doesn’t change your relaxed demeanor. “Great! Retirement has been nice to me, thankfully. Pretty under the radar. How about you?”

“Same as always, you know?” He shrugs, as if nonchalance were his default emotion in this situation. “Been excited about this mission more than anything. I missed–” 

Never mind. He’s all over the place, and his mouth got ahead of his brain. It’s definitely overstepping to say you. 

Bucky blinks. “I missed, um, being covert. For once.”

Coming from a super soldier like him, that excuse is absolutely terrible. Your expression goes unreadable for a second. Maybe you had a hard cutoff for the number of questionable interactions you would accept from an ex today. 

Before he can collapse straight onto the ground, however, you offer a close-lipped grin. A bit awkwardly, which he’s surprised, and relieved, to see. 

“That’s good,” you respond with enthusiasm. “We’ll need that energy tonight.” 

Whatever’s happening, it makes Bucky more glad that your good terms haven’t changed. 

You clear your throat, gaze moving past his shoulder with an amused raise of your eyebrow. “Sam, you can stop lurking.”

“I was brainstorming,” he says. The gravel clicks under his feet when he comes closer, his tone as teasing as it is genuine. “And waiting for my turn to say hi.” 

Thankfully, Sam stays too busy catching up with you to make any obvious faces. 

After an exchange in friendly pleasantries, you motion towards the file threatening to crinkle in Bucky’s tight grip. “Speaking of brainstorming, this thing tonight is no joke, so…” A flash of what might be nervousness passes through your eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by a flame that’s unusually bold, even for you. “I have an idea. Hear me out.” 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

Later that night, the three of you coordinate your disguises in the living room of the team’s safehouse, tucked away in the outskirts of the city. The other option was to stay at your apartment, which you did offer. Nobody wanted to risk drawing attention back to your home if things went awry, though. 

Thankfully, with your guidance, the chance of that happening is already very slim. 

The plan starts off with one person going in for recon. During the big art auction of the night, the other two replace the stolen artifacts with replicas (whose likeness is courtesy of Nat and, fun fact, her elite knowledge of one of Tony’s old 3D printers). Because the items are no more than a few centimeters at most, you said you would carry them in a small, unsuspecting purse. 

If anybody even notices the swap, it’ll be when you’re long gone. 

Now that everybody is dressed as cuttingly elegant as the actual attendees surely will be, you can sneak in without a hitch. Asking for your help was indeed the move. Foolproof plan. 

Bucky, running his gloved metal hand through his hair, just wishes it wasn’t so excruciating on his part. When you mentioned splitting up for this plan, you wanted the pair replacing the artifacts to look as non-Avenger as possible – something you could see at any party. 

So, with his luck, you pitched an undercover couple heist. 

Anybody could guess which third-wheel genius volunteered to be in charge of recon right away. 

“I’m heading out now,” Sam announces. He stops by the full-length mirror near the door, adjusting his sleek suit with confidence. “You guys almost ready?”

“Almost!” you respond. “I need a couple more precautions.” 

Excitement radiates from your face at being back in the swing of things again. You hide weapons and gadgets beneath the folds of your dress, in secret holsters that not even the most trained mercenaries would suspect. Propping your leg up on the table, you strap the latest knife through the slip of your dress and onto your thigh. 

Bucky looks respectfully, but damn, is his mind overflowing with hot static. 

It’s barely occurring to him how difficult it would be for you to see each other so tastefully dressed. Maybe a skim through this list of big criminals in attendance tonight can keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. 

Rereading the same sentence on a file for the thirtieth time, he chokes out, “I’ll review this information one last time, then I’ll – be good to go.” 

The shabbily disguised statement prompts a knowing glance from Sam in the mirror. He nods towards your back with his eyes and, humiliatingly, wiggles his eyebrows.

What is he, twelve! 

Silently begging him not to say anything, Bucky gives a hard glare. Which, of course, is ignored.

“Hey, uh–” Sam starts, turning to face you. “It’s been great to have you back. Like old times, huh?” 

To be fair, he isn’t joking when he says that. Your bond in particular was really tight. It goes without saying that the compound is far from the same when you’re not there, and that’s not Bucky’s own bias speaking.

You pause your weapon packing to share an honest smile. “Yeah. Definitely.” 

“Tonight’ll be fun! Really. We missed you.” Unfortunately, the sentiment that doubled as the temporary exemption from bullying is over. “And believe me, I mean we.” 

Just as Bucky is overcome with the urge to, say, tackle him from across the room, Sam’s lips curl into his classic smirk. “Good luck tonight, guys. See you there!” 

He rushes out with a gentle slam of the door, leaving nothing but an electrical charge in the air. Bucky swallows whatever the hell he was feeling. 

Now that makes space for the questions. Would you have felt more comfortable partnering up with an uncomplicated friend like Sam? Why did you suggest this idea in the first place? Does this all mean you’re actually interested again, or that you think of Bucky so painfully platonically that pretending to be back together is easy? 

You step off the table as if nothing, heels quickly clicking as they carry you across the room towards the mirror. He begins to worry that it’s an attempt to establish distance – because being caught looking at you earlier would be so embarrassing – but a huff of a laugh leaves your mouth. 

“Classic Sam,” you say softly, meeting Bucky’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror.  

Any remaining energy he has goes towards a lopsided smile of his own. “Gotta respect his honesty, I’ll say that much.” 

“Mhm.” Sighing, you smooth out wrinkles in your dress. “I’m really happy to be here with you guys, honestly. Guess I couldn’t stay away for long.”

“Glad you didn’t,” he blurts. 

The statement would have sounded casual if his voice didn’t waver in the middle. Looks like he’s already fumbling through this anyway – might as well throw in a compliment. A friendly, innocent compliment. 

Ignoring the blaring thoughts that tell him he shouldn’t, Bucky says, “You – you look really good tonight, by the way.” 

“Thanks.” You bite your lip. “So do you.” 

Something shifts. Suddenly making eye contact with you in the mirror is making him sweat. You look away at the same time. 

“Okay, um…” You quickly grab the purse off the bag hanger hook by the door. “We should get moving.” 

Bucky nods weakly. Fixing his tie when he stands up off the couch, he shoves away whatever just happened. Maybe he imagined it. 

One thing is for sure: the toughest part of tonight isn’t going to be putting up a convincing front. On the contrary – it’s going to be denying you still look good in each other’s arms now. 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

The party is overrun with security. Limousines pull up through the mansion’s roundabout driveway, and out step people who ooze high profile aura. Designer clothes probably paid in blood money, entourages that scream well-trained-assassins. They go up and down the wide marble staircase in the middle of the grand foyer like they mean business. 

You fit the environment perfectly. 

As you two make your way through this lobby, your arm interlinked in his, Bucky tries to ignore the knot in his stomach. Even though it’s part of the plan, being seen with you so publicly – when you look like this tonight – is intoxicating. 

With impeccable timing as usual, Sam speaks into Bucky’s individual earpiece channel. “Coast is clear so far. Keep me posted.” He snickers. “And remember you’re on a mission, not a date.”

“Thank you, I’m well aware,” he murmurs, trying not to make it obvious to bystanders that he’s communicating with someone. 

“Sure.” Sam purposefully coughs into the mic. “Nat hacked into surveillance back at the compound, by the way. This is your first and only warning not to do anything you wouldn’t want caught on camera.” 

The image that instantly popped into Bucky’s mind should not be there.  

He clears his throat. “Muting you now.” 

As soon as he hangs up, though, the ideas prompted by Sam’s stupid joke resurface. Particularly the sight of your figure leaning while you prepared your weapons, the dress’ slit falling around your knee and calves like a delicate silk waterfall. 

Bucky can’t help but glance at you from the side now. Every part of him is pulled towards you like a magnet – including his eyes, which are starting to wander down to the neckline of your dress.

Then he processes you’re already staring right at him.

Fuck. 

Nervous that he crossed a line, the beginning of an explanation starts to tumble out. “I, uh – I was just–” 

“Uh huh,” you muse. “If this is to sell our act tonight, then you’re doing a great job.” 

You seem a bit more relaxed than earlier. A look you haven’t given him in ages appears on your face, the teasing one that always used to make his mouth go dry. It still does.

And it almost makes him forget that you’re supposed to be through. 

As you stop at a small standing table covered in expensive appetizers, Bucky realizes you do have a good point about selling the act. You’re surrounded by all kinds of extravagant, flashy art looters and criminals; this makes it seem like it’s another day on the illegal-activities job for you. 

If it makes the mission more believable, then…it’s fine, right?  

Mentally flipping off his better judgement, Bucky lets you go temporarily. Careful to avoid the bag on your other shoulder, his arm snakes around your waist instead. The sleeve of his suit gently brushes over your silk. 

He pretends to care about hiding his grin. “How’s this, then?”

“Perfect,” you hum. “Your act’s definitely convincing to me.” 

The encouragement suddenly pushes Bucky into his old element, with that flirt that comes back ten times stronger. He brings you in close, and the side of your body presses flush against his. It’s not a possessive signal for any potential onlookers – rather, a silent personal follow up. 

Leaning in, he drops his voice to a whisper. “Who said I’m acting, sweetheart?” 

You are not about to be one-upped in this game. Feigning innocence, you tug at your dress neckline to readjust it. Excruciatingly lower. You don’t even have to say anything. Your eyes are on fire. 

Not that this was a competition, but you just beat him at this interaction.

He’s so tempted to keep fanning the flame, except a well-dressed assistant comes up to your table with a tray of champagne glasses. “Would you all like anything to drink?”

“Oh, no thank you! We’re good for now,” you respond, your words instantly becoming polite and losing whatever undertone you were using with Bucky. 

Your body stays pressed against him all the same.

The assistant – who, upon further inspection, is one of the higher-up mercenaries in this syndicate – nods. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He looks like he’s about to laugh. “I’ll let you get back to your…conversation.” 

As soon as the man leaves, Bucky exhales heavily, releasing the tension pent up in his body from the interruption. 

“So it’s working,” you say in a low voice.  

Bucky chuckles, still breathless. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Your eyes twinkle. “Then let’s keep it up.” 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

An announcement for the beginning of the art auction eventually places your little show on hold. People begin to filter out into the area functioning as the exhibition hall, with their fancy shoes clicking across the spotless tile floor. 

Through all the commotion, Sam emerges seamlessly from the crowd on the other side of the room. 

“In position,” Bucky hears you whisper into your earpiece. 

Doing one last scan around, Sam nods towards a hallway next to the staircase. With that, he disappears back into the wave of individuals headed towards the big event. That’s your cue. 

It’s easy for you and Bucky to slip out into the hallway. To stay close in the bustling transition, he makes sure to place his hand on the small of your back. He feels you tense up – a bit of friendly payback for your teasing earlier. 

All for the act, of course. Even if no one else is watching at the moment.

As you sneak through, you both take mental note of the decorative archways that lead to other rooms – full of crime-paid treasures, no doubt – in case you need to duck away. The rest of the area is exquisitely adorned with expensive artwork and old collector’s weapons that stand out even in the dim light. 

Your artifacts of interest are on display in a glass case down the back, exactly as your intel revealed. Now your countdown to make the swap has begun. 

“Get me the code,” you command, already taking the replicas out of your bag. 

Bucky reads out the combination to the case – another courtesy of Nat’s sleuthing – without missing a beat. Simultaneously keeping an eye out for any passerbys, he watches in awe as you swiftly switch the items out, being careful not to leave fingerprints. Within minutes, the replicas are in place, while the originals are safely tucked away in your bag. 

“Damn, you’re good,” Bucky says under his breath. 

“Thanks.” You exhale proudly. “I missed this so bad.” 

Pure determination in your voice makes his chest ache. Your intelligence, your effectiveness out on the field – they were always some of his favorite things about being your partner. And obviously not just in the mission sense. 

The realization that this ends after tonight is crushing. 

“You know…” He rubs the back of his neck. “When this is all over, I was thinking–”

The words die on his lips instantly. Several voices are carrying down the hallway. Including that of the assistant from earlier.

“Shit,” you hiss. “We have to go.”

Within the second, you both start walking as quietly as possible. Yet picking up the pace would only make more noise. Reality dawns terrifyingly – it’s no use. You cannot be seen. You have to think of something, and fast. 

Before Bucky can even blink again, he’s yanked by you into one of the archways. The agent in you truly kicks in as you throw your arm across his abdomen, backs rigid against the side wall. Your breath slows. On the other hand, his breathing can’t stay steady. 

Not with your hand splayed on his body like this. 

You have bigger problems, though. The conversation is growing louder. Frantically, your free hand leans towards the doorknob next to you. It wiggles slightly, but to no avail. You look back at him, eyes screaming. 

“What do we do?” he whispers, barely audible. “Why the hell would we be here anyway? There’s nothing…” 

It hits you both simultaneously. There is an excuse you could use for being here alone. 

And it’s the one prompting you to pull him closer by his tie. 

Oh, bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. 

You’re breathless. “Kiss me, Bucky.”

He probably shouldn’t. 

But you’re staring so intensely. His brain shuts off. You throw your arms around his neck, exchange a nod. Permissive. Dangerous. Necessary. Not for the mission, or for the act. 

For each other. 

Fuck it. It’s fine. 

Every simmering spark explodes all at once. After months of agony, your lips are reunited in a kiss, hot and blinding, that ignores the very idea of knowing better. His hands run endlessly over the material of your dress. Your fingers intertwine in his hair. 

As soon as he hit send on that message and you shot back a reply, you both hoped for this exact moment. 

If it weren’t for the bag bumping gently against your side like a reminder, you would lose all self restraint. The sounds of your lips and tongue are practically echoing off the walls. You wrap your leg around his waist, and he grabs your hip in response. To make it really convincing, you throw in a few broken gasps. 

But Bucky knows damn well you’re not just acting. It makes him dizzy. 

The intensity does definitely sell it. Your unwanted guests pass by as if nothing, save their disgusted looks. Disappointed, somebody points out that you must be the third couple they’ve caught doing this tonight. 

“Saw those two earlier in the lobby,” the assistant grumbles. “I’m not surprised.” 

They come and go, footsteps disappearing down the hallway until the door closes. 

Not that either of you care. You’re still a mess, tangled in the darkness of the archway. 

Eventually, your kisses lull – only to catch your breath. Foreheads pressed together, you are utterly drunk on each other’s proximity. 

But this isn’t quite over. Bucky’s metal hand, cool to the touch even through the glove, tilts your chin upwards for better access to your neck. The increased air exposure feels raw on your skin.

He gets back to work right away. 

Slowly, he presses a trail of several kisses up and down, from your jawline to your collarbone. Each is more agonizing than the last. You can feel the way he grins against you. It gives you goosebumps. 

“Bucky.” You grip his shoulder. “I think they’re–” Wow, his mouth is really distracting. “I think they’re gone.”  

“Oh, are they?” He plants his latest kiss below your ear. “I didn’t notice.”

He’s not letting up. Hmm, what a shame.

With a long sigh, you move your hand to the back of his head for stability. “Hilarious.” You make a sound halfway between a laugh and a gasp. “I knew you’d be good for this job.” 

“For which part?” Now Bucky lifts his head to look you straight in the eye. “Being undercover, or…” Putting an arm next to your shoulder, he pins you in with a smirk. “Being believable?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Mind you, this was my idea, babe.” 

“And it was a goddamn genius one,” he exhales. “Because you’re the perfect partner.” 

Your breath hitches in unison, vulnerability suddenly laid bare. 

“On that note, I–” Bucky clears his throat. Inhaling sharply, he pushes himself off the wall. “I understand if this whole, um – partnership thing was for the mission. So if you don’t want to–”

Your hand flies to his shoulder again. He gasps quietly. 

“I appreciate that, but…it was never just for the mission, Bucky. When I said I was glad to hear from you, I meant it.” You giggle. “Not strictly in a business sense, in case you couldn’t tell.”

He must look like he lost the ability to hear his own thoughts – which he did – because you throw your head back in another quiet laugh.

“I think this can work again,” you whisper. “Now that I want to come back.”

Bucky freezes. “You mean you want to rejoin the team?”

You nod. “It feels right. Everything about it.”

The air stills. Once again, you have a point. Everything does feel right. 

There is a default part of him that still nags about all of this. What if this is another disaster waiting to happen, an increasingly terrible idea? 

He feels a tug on his tie again. 

“So, in the meantime…Sam hasn’t contacted us yet.” A smirk dances on your lips. “Any objections for round two?” 

Strength dissolving, he leans back within inches of your face. It’s your back pressed against the wall, but you’re in complete control this time. 

Grinning stupidly, Bucky shakes his head. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

By the time you reconvene with Sam and head back to the safehouse, nothing feels real. Your table has several orders of milkshakes and fries, ordered on your phone in celebration of a job well done. The artifacts are organized, labeled, and packaged to be shipped to research facilities accordingly. Now you’re on video call with Steve and Natasha, their holograms hazy under the kitchen overhead light.

You and Bucky both hope the marks on your neck aren’t visible yet. On camera or otherwise. 

Except everybody is already ecstatic since you broke the news of your return. That is, in fact, a major reason why you’re giddy. Surely it’ll pass as the sole explanation. 

“Excellent work, everyone,” Steve declares with a smile. 

Nodding, Natasha adds, “That was one of our cleanest missions yet. By far.” 

“Hell yeah,” Sam says. He raises his milkshake towards you in a toast. “Special shoutout to our un-retired agent of the hour.” 

“Thanks, guys.” You beam. “This was definitely a team effort, though. You made it even more exciting than I already knew it would be.”

You press your knee against Bucky’s under the table. He wants to faint. He has to keep reminding himself to pull it together. 

To his dismay, the zone-out celebration is cut short. He notices a glint in Sam’s eye that he really doesn’t like. Everyone else must have recognized it, too, because the table is strangely silent. 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Don’t give me that look.” 

“What look?” he asks. “I’m not giving you a look.” 

“If you have something to say, Sam, just spit it out.” 

“That’s okay, I’ll do it for him.” Natasha grins wickedly. “He’s mad he owes me thirty bucks.” 

You’ve been around them long enough to know when something is up. Cautiously picking up a fry, you ask, “Do I want to know what this is about?” 

All of the color drains from Bucky’s face immediately. There’s no way. 

He forgot Nat was on goddamn surveillance. 

The woes are immediately interrupted by another whiplash – a complete outburst of laughter from Sam. Like, full-belly, tear-inducing laughter. “I don’t – I don’t even care about the money,” he manages to get out. “The story, it – it was too good.”

“I didn’t see much, if that makes you feel better,” she says. “Don’t worry, I gave you enough privacy.” 

This time, Steve’s attempt to hide his laugh is very poor. 

“Besides”– Sam elbows you with a wink –“from the sounds of it, you had fun.” 

“Oh.” You pause another fry that’s midair on the way to your mouth. “I see.” 

Bucky can think of a million other places he would rather be than here. Probably somewhere with only you, first and foremost. 

Then, running your free hand over your face, you laugh. Nervous, but not quite ashamed. “Well.” You turn towards Bucky and tuck a piece of stray hair behind his ear. “In my defense, he was reminding me what a good partner he can be.” 

The kitchen erupts into a chorus of either groans, fake gags, or laughs. 

Still, humiliation aside, Bucky smiles. This mission left him silently hopeful from the word jump – no matter how much he denied it. Now he can’t believe you’re finally coming back into their lives. 

If these are the worst consequences of your (sexy) little stint, then this whole idea really wasn’t that bad after all.

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆

✮ taglist! @iristheplanet16

[lotsoflokilove23]

I’m obsessed 🫣 with this man

[starburstbarnes]

bad idea, right?

Summary: Bucky Barnes can totally handle an undercover mission with his ex. It was his idea to ask for her help, after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!fem!reader

Content: mentions of a friendly breakup so that means exes to lovers ;) reader wears a dress. slow burn + tension in denial + spice ;)) sam’s onto you guys. no use of y/n. cap quartet cameos bc everyone’s alive!

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: wow this fic got me out of writer’s block. inspired by various scenes in the captain america movies…you’ll see muahaha

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆

“Barnes, I’ve seen you do a lot of dumb things,” Natasha muses, crossing her arms. “But this has to be a new low.” 

Bucky throws his head backwards onto the couch and decides he is definitely not in the mood for this. 

The team sits around the compound’s living room table, eating takeout and discussing their latest assignment: to infiltrate the gala of a secret crime syndicate.

This group specializes in art heists around the world. By hour three of debriefing, everything about intercepting small yet priceless stolen artifacts – on their way to be smuggled into some high-profile museum – was clicking into place. 

That is, until Bucky’s teammates determined he would be the one to go to the gala in person. And, looking for help, he messaged one of the retired Avengers – you. 

Now everyone wants to act like he’s the one who committed a crime.

They should be grateful you live in the same location where the event is taking place. And that you happened to be knowledgeable in the arts world prior to your Avenging duties. It’s not his fault they’re sending him to a huge city he’s never been to. More than anything, your stealth and background will be a perfect asset. Texting an ex-agent was a great idea. 

So you’re also his ex-girlfriend. What does it matter? 

Waving a utensil at him accusingly, Sam snickers. “Your brooding won’t get you out of this one.” 

“Whatever.” Bucky gives a singular roll of his eyes. “It’ll be fine. I’m over it.” 

“Right,” Natasha observes, judging how he very casually checks his phone for what must be the tenth time in the last two minutes. 

“Other potential contacts aside,” Steve – ever the mitigator – continues, “this is a job that’s a little out of our ordinary routine. That means we need to be precise. We’ve already established Bucky will infiltrate as a guest. We should also consider a group for surveillance, another for–” 

Bucky’s phone buzzes. He flips it over like it’s sizzling.

Shit. 

Shit. 

You agreed to help. 

Hell, you responded. 

This is good. Great! It’s exactly what he wanted! For the mission, of course. His flesh palm is only sweating because you hadn’t talked in a couple of months. Absolutely nothing to be– 

“Let me guess.” Sam’s voice goes sympathetic. “She said no?”

“Actually,” Bucky says defensively, “she said she’ll come out of retirement just this once. To join me on the field. That’s it. All business.” 

When the others stare blankly – expressions falling on along a spectrum of concern to amusement – he swallows. “You’re welcome.” 

“First of all, chill. Second of all, tell her we said thank you.” Turning to Sam as if Bucky weren’t even there, Natasha asks through a mouthful of food, “So how much are we betting?”

“Twenty five they get back together afterwards,” he declares.

“Alright, thirty if it happens before the mission’s even over.”

They lean over the table and handshake directly in front of him. Steve stifles a laugh with a bite. 

“Ha, ha.” Frustrated, Bucky feels his face flush. At least, he thinks it’s out of frustration. “You guys know you can trust me, right?” 

Natasha’s curls bounce when she nods exaggeratedly. “Oh, totally.” Then she leans back into her seat with a smirk. “Unrelated, but I think infiltration just became a three person party. You’re on it, Wilson.”

It takes everything in Bucky not to groan like a grounded teenager. That, quite possibly, is the worst case scenario. Sam was always teasing you two to no end even when you were dating. Not that Nat’s bluntness or Steve’s tendency to turn everything into a lecture would be much better. 

Quickly, Bucky shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll stay focused!” 

“Sure, now that I’m going,” Sam quips. 

“We have power in numbers here. Nothing personal, pal,” Steve offers – unconvincingly, given how his face still shows traces of the grin harassing Bucky since 1929. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he mumbles something about “being monitored” and “the audacity.”

The others go back planning or finishing up their food. After a few moments of moping, Bucky is about to re-engage in the conversation, but the reminder notification of your unopened message draws his eyes back to the phone. 

What he mentioned about your response was true. Mostly. He skipped over the last part. 

Glad to hear from you :) 

For a second, any mixed emotions dissolve into a different kind of blush. 

Reconnecting. That’s all this is. 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

The breakup was mutual. Super amicable, as most interactions with you are. With your retirement and Bucky’s mental health, it was simply time to move on. He was finally starting to accept that as an ending, not a footnote or an introduction to the next chapter. So even though he is in a better place now, Bucky swears he won’t shoot any shots. 

Sam thinks that’s the biggest lie he’s ever said. 

Normally a stakeout car below a freeway overpass wouldn’t seem like the best place to discuss this. This whole time, they’ve been sitting without exchanging a word. But you’re about to meet them with intel, and the event is already tonight. Avoiding the elephant in the room forever is impossible. Sam needs to break the ice. 

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Did she tell you what time she would get here?” 

“No.”  

“Okay,” he says, dragging out the last syllable skeptically. “Did she…tell you anything else?” 

“No.”

“And you didn’t tell her anything else?”

The musty air conditioner buzzes louder for a second. 

“Nope.” 

Blood pressure rising, Sam realizes he has to cut straight to the point. “Come on, don’t have any feelings about doing a mission with your ex?”

“You’re only asking because you have money riding on this.”

“That doesn’t answer my–” 

“We’re friends.” 

Sam’s face goes deadpan. 

“Shh,” Bucky hisses. 

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

“Whatever. I’m saying she’s here.” 

Hunching over to see through the windshield – this car was not built with Avengers in mind – they watch as another vehicle pulls up. Admittedly, it puts their mini beat-up one to shame. Bucky wishes they had driven something else as a good first-impression. The polished exterior of your car is sleek yet low-profile, as anticipated. 

He also expected you would look drop-dead gorgeous, but that doesn’t stop his breath from becoming shallow as soon as you step out. 

Even though you’re wearing civilian clothing to blend in, the cunning agent’s sparkle in your gaze is as strong as ever. You haven’t changed at all. If anything, you  became even more beautiful. Only you could make a sketchy underpass look like a runway. 

Sam snorts. “Some friendly eyes you’re making over there.”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky lies straight through his teeth. Literally, since it only took an instant for him to fold and grin absentmindedly. 

And, while your gaze is partially guarded, you’re returning the gesture with sparkling teeth. 

“I cannot believe I’m already third wheeling,” Sam mumbles, with only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Refusing to give him any other chances to comment, Bucky shoots him a dry look, opens the door, and forces himself to stroll across the clearing. 

“Hey!” he says as cheerfully as possible. This should be fine. 

Except that’s as far as his plan goes. Does he give you a hug? No, it’s too soon. A handshake is another option, but what the hell are you, bankers at a business meeting? 

He settles for shoving his hands straight into his pockets. “I really appreciate you helping us out with this. Thank you.” 

If you noticed him hesitating like an idiot, you don’t seem to mind. You still smile so widely. “Of course! No problem at all.” A beat. “Here’s, uh, the file you asked for.” 

He barely registers the manila folder you hold out, stamped and filled with information key to the operation. Right. How could he forget that while standing in the face of such a mesmerizing force to be reckoned with. 

“Yeah, I…probably need it, don’t I?” Bucky stammers, dragging his hands back out to take the envelope. 

You let out a breathy giggle. “Just like how you probably needed a bigger car.” 

The joke hangs in the air for a second, a test of the actual waters between you. At least the highway’s rumbling above is overwhelming enough to distract him from the violent pounding of his heart. 

Then, breaking into full on light-laughter, you punch his shoulder playfully. “It’s good to see you, Buck.”

He was not expecting that. The contact sends sparks flying throughout his entire body. 

Even if your hand might not have any rekindling intentions, looks like caution can be damned. 

“You too.” Bucky thinks another dumbass blush is coming on. But so far, so good (enough). An opportunity for small talk will not slip away. “I mean, it feels like it’s been forever! How is everything?” 

Much to his relief, continuing the conversation doesn’t change your relaxed demeanor. “Great! Retirement has been nice to me, thankfully. Pretty under the radar. How about you?”

“Same as always, you know?” He shrugs, as if nonchalance were his default emotion in this situation. “Been excited about this mission more than anything. I missed–” 

Never mind. He’s all over the place, and his mouth got ahead of his brain. It’s definitely overstepping to say you. 

Bucky blinks. “I missed, um, being covert. For once.”

Coming from a super soldier like him, that excuse is absolutely terrible. Your expression goes unreadable for a second. Maybe you had a hard cutoff for the number of questionable interactions you would accept from an ex today. 

Before he can collapse straight onto the ground, however, you offer a close-lipped grin. A bit awkwardly, which he’s surprised, and relieved, to see. 

“That’s good,” you respond with enthusiasm. “We’ll need that energy tonight.” 

Whatever’s happening, it makes Bucky more glad that your good terms haven’t changed. 

You clear your throat, gaze moving past his shoulder with an amused raise of your eyebrow. “Sam, you can stop lurking.”

“I was brainstorming,” he says. The gravel clicks under his feet when he comes closer, his tone as teasing as it is genuine. “And waiting for my turn to say hi.” 

Thankfully, Sam stays too busy catching up with you to make any obvious faces. 

After an exchange in friendly pleasantries, you motion towards the file threatening to crinkle in Bucky’s tight grip. “Speaking of brainstorming, this thing tonight is no joke, so…” A flash of what might be nervousness passes through your eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by a flame that’s unusually bold, even for you. “I have an idea. Hear me out.” 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

Later that night, the three of you coordinate your disguises in the living room of the team’s safehouse, tucked away in the outskirts of the city. The other option was to stay at your apartment, which you did offer. Nobody wanted to risk drawing attention back to your home if things went awry, though. 

Thankfully, with your guidance, the chance of that happening is already very slim. 

The plan starts off with one person going in for recon. During the big art auction of the night, the other two replace the stolen artifacts with replicas (whose likeness is courtesy of Nat and, fun fact, her elite knowledge of one of Tony’s old 3D printers). Because the items are no more than a few centimeters at most, you said you would carry them in a small, unsuspecting purse. 

If anybody even notices the swap, it’ll be when you’re long gone. 

Now that everybody is dressed as cuttingly elegant as the actual attendees surely will be, you can sneak in without a hitch. Asking for your help was indeed the move. Foolproof plan. 

Bucky, running his gloved metal hand through his hair, just wishes it wasn’t so excruciating on his part. When you mentioned splitting up for this plan, you wanted the pair replacing the artifacts to look as non-Avenger as possible – something you could see at any party. 

So, with his luck, you pitched an undercover couple heist. 

Anybody could guess which third-wheel genius volunteered to be in charge of recon right away. 

“I’m heading out now,” Sam announces. He stops by the full-length mirror near the door, adjusting his sleek suit with confidence. “You guys almost ready?”

“Almost!” you respond. “I need a couple more precautions.” 

Excitement radiates from your face at being back in the swing of things again. You hide weapons and gadgets beneath the folds of your dress, in secret holsters that not even the most trained mercenaries would suspect. Propping your leg up on the table, you strap the latest knife through the slip of your dress and onto your thigh. 

Bucky looks respectfully, but damn, is his mind overflowing with hot static. 

It’s barely occurring to him how difficult it would be for you to see each other so tastefully dressed. Maybe a skim through this list of big criminals in attendance tonight can keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. 

Rereading the same sentence on a file for the thirtieth time, he chokes out, “I’ll review this information one last time, then I’ll – be good to go.” 

The shabbily disguised statement prompts a knowing glance from Sam in the mirror. He nods towards your back with his eyes and, humiliatingly, wiggles his eyebrows.

What is he, twelve! 

Silently begging him not to say anything, Bucky gives a hard glare. Which, of course, is ignored.

“Hey, uh–” Sam starts, turning to face you. “It’s been great to have you back. Like old times, huh?” 

To be fair, he isn’t joking when he says that. Your bond in particular was really tight. It goes without saying that the compound is far from the same when you’re not there, and that’s not Bucky’s own bias speaking.

You pause your weapon packing to share an honest smile. “Yeah. Definitely.” 

“Tonight’ll be fun! Really. We missed you.” Unfortunately, the sentiment that doubled as the temporary exemption from bullying is over. “And believe me, I mean we.” 

Just as Bucky is overcome with the urge to, say, tackle him from across the room, Sam’s lips curl into his classic smirk. “Good luck tonight, guys. See you there!” 

He rushes out with a gentle slam of the door, leaving nothing but an electrical charge in the air. Bucky swallows whatever the hell he was feeling. 

Now that makes space for the questions. Would you have felt more comfortable partnering up with an uncomplicated friend like Sam? Why did you suggest this idea in the first place? Does this all mean you’re actually interested again, or that you think of Bucky so painfully platonically that pretending to be back together is easy? 

You step off the table as if nothing, heels quickly clicking as they carry you across the room towards the mirror. He begins to worry that it’s an attempt to establish distance – because being caught looking at you earlier would be so embarrassing – but a huff of a laugh leaves your mouth. 

“Classic Sam,” you say softly, meeting Bucky’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror.  

Any remaining energy he has goes towards a lopsided smile of his own. “Gotta respect his honesty, I’ll say that much.” 

“Mhm.” Sighing, you smooth out wrinkles in your dress. “I’m really happy to be here with you guys, honestly. Guess I couldn’t stay away for long.”

“Glad you didn’t,” he blurts. 

The statement would have sounded casual if his voice didn’t waver in the middle. Looks like he’s already fumbling through this anyway – might as well throw in a compliment. A friendly, innocent compliment. 

Ignoring the blaring thoughts that tell him he shouldn’t, Bucky says, “You – you look really good tonight, by the way.” 

“Thanks.” You bite your lip. “So do you.” 

Something shifts. Suddenly making eye contact with you in the mirror is making him sweat. You look away at the same time. 

“Okay, um…” You quickly grab the purse off the bag hanger hook by the door. “We should get moving.” 

Bucky nods weakly. Fixing his tie when he stands up off the couch, he shoves away whatever just happened. Maybe he imagined it. 

One thing is for sure: the toughest part of tonight isn’t going to be putting up a convincing front. On the contrary – it’s going to be denying you still look good in each other’s arms now. 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

The party is overrun with security. Limousines pull up through the mansion’s roundabout driveway, and out step people who ooze high profile aura. Designer clothes probably paid in blood money, entourages that scream well-trained-assassins. They go up and down the wide marble staircase in the middle of the grand foyer like they mean business. 

You fit the environment perfectly. 

As you two make your way through this lobby, your arm interlinked in his, Bucky tries to ignore the knot in his stomach. Even though it’s part of the plan, being seen with you so publicly – when you look like this tonight – is intoxicating. 

With impeccable timing as usual, Sam speaks into Bucky’s individual earpiece channel. “Coast is clear so far. Keep me posted.” He snickers. “And remember you’re on a mission, not a date.”

“Thank you, I’m well aware,” he murmurs, trying not to make it obvious to bystanders that he’s communicating with someone. 

“Sure.” Sam purposefully coughs into the mic. “Nat hacked into surveillance back at the compound, by the way. This is your first and only warning not to do anything you wouldn’t want caught on camera.” 

The image that instantly popped into Bucky’s mind should not be there.  

He clears his throat. “Muting you now.” 

As soon as he hangs up, though, the ideas prompted by Sam’s stupid joke resurface. Particularly the sight of your figure leaning while you prepared your weapons, the dress’ slit falling around your knee and calves like a delicate silk waterfall. 

Bucky can’t help but glance at you from the side now. Every part of him is pulled towards you like a magnet – including his eyes, which are starting to wander down to the neckline of your dress.

Then he processes you’re already staring right at him.

Fuck. 

Nervous that he crossed a line, the beginning of an explanation starts to tumble out. “I, uh – I was just–” 

“Uh huh,” you muse. “If this is to sell our act tonight, then you’re doing a great job.” 

You seem a bit more relaxed than earlier. A look you haven’t given him in ages appears on your face, the teasing one that always used to make his mouth go dry. It still does.

And it almost makes him forget that you’re supposed to be through. 

As you stop at a small standing table covered in expensive appetizers, Bucky realizes you do have a good point about selling the act. You’re surrounded by all kinds of extravagant, flashy art looters and criminals; this makes it seem like it’s another day on the illegal-activities job for you. 

If it makes the mission more believable, then…it’s fine, right?  

Mentally flipping off his better judgement, Bucky lets you go temporarily. Careful to avoid the bag on your other shoulder, his arm snakes around your waist instead. The sleeve of his suit gently brushes over your silk. 

He pretends to care about hiding his grin. “How’s this, then?”

“Perfect,” you hum. “Your act’s definitely convincing to me.” 

The encouragement suddenly pushes Bucky into his old element, with that flirt that comes back ten times stronger. He brings you in close, and the side of your body presses flush against his. It’s not a possessive signal for any potential onlookers – rather, a silent personal follow up. 

Leaning in, he drops his voice to a whisper. “Who said I’m acting, sweetheart?” 

You are not about to be one-upped in this game. Feigning innocence, you tug at your dress neckline to readjust it. Excruciatingly lower. You don’t even have to say anything. Your eyes are on fire. 

Not that this was a competition, but you just beat him at this interaction.

He’s so tempted to keep fanning the flame, except a well-dressed assistant comes up to your table with a tray of champagne glasses. “Would you all like anything to drink?”

“Oh, no thank you! We’re good for now,” you respond, your words instantly becoming polite and losing whatever undertone you were using with Bucky. 

Your body stays pressed against him all the same.

The assistant – who, upon further inspection, is one of the higher-up mercenaries in this syndicate – nods. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He looks like he’s about to laugh. “I’ll let you get back to your…conversation.” 

As soon as the man leaves, Bucky exhales heavily, releasing the tension pent up in his body from the interruption. 

“So it’s working,” you say in a low voice.  

Bucky chuckles, still breathless. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Your eyes twinkle. “Then let’s keep it up.” 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

An announcement for the beginning of the art auction eventually places your little show on hold. People begin to filter out into the area functioning as the exhibition hall, with their fancy shoes clicking across the spotless tile floor. 

Through all the commotion, Sam emerges seamlessly from the crowd on the other side of the room. 

“In position,” Bucky hears you whisper into your earpiece. 

Doing one last scan around, Sam nods towards a hallway next to the staircase. With that, he disappears back into the wave of individuals headed towards the big event. That’s your cue. 

It’s easy for you and Bucky to slip out into the hallway. To stay close in the bustling transition, he makes sure to place his hand on the small of your back. He feels you tense up – a bit of friendly payback for your teasing earlier. 

All for the act, of course. Even if no one else is watching at the moment.

As you sneak through, you both take mental note of the decorative archways that lead to other rooms – full of crime-paid treasures, no doubt – in case you need to duck away. The rest of the area is exquisitely adorned with expensive artwork and old collector’s weapons that stand out even in the dim light. 

Your artifacts of interest are on display in a glass case down the back, exactly as your intel revealed. Now your countdown to make the swap has begun. 

“Get me the code,” you command, already taking the replicas out of your bag. 

Bucky reads out the combination to the case – another courtesy of Nat’s sleuthing – without missing a beat. Simultaneously keeping an eye out for any passerbys, he watches in awe as you swiftly switch the items out, being careful not to leave fingerprints. Within minutes, the replicas are in place, while the originals are safely tucked away in your bag. 

“Damn, you’re good,” Bucky says under his breath. 

“Thanks.” You exhale proudly. “I missed this so bad.” 

Pure determination in your voice makes his chest ache. Your intelligence, your effectiveness out on the field – they were always some of his favorite things about being your partner. And obviously not just in the mission sense. 

The realization that this ends after tonight is crushing. 

“You know…” He rubs the back of his neck. “When this is all over, I was thinking–”

The words die on his lips instantly. Several voices are carrying down the hallway. Including that of the assistant from earlier.

“Shit,” you hiss. “We have to go.”

Within the second, you both start walking as quietly as possible. Yet picking up the pace would only make more noise. Reality dawns terrifyingly – it’s no use. You cannot be seen. You have to think of something, and fast. 

Before Bucky can even blink again, he’s yanked by you into one of the archways. The agent in you truly kicks in as you throw your arm across his abdomen, backs rigid against the side wall. Your breath slows. On the other hand, his breathing can’t stay steady. 

Not with your hand splayed on his body like this. 

You have bigger problems, though. The conversation is growing louder. Frantically, your free hand leans towards the doorknob next to you. It wiggles slightly, but to no avail. You look back at him, eyes screaming. 

“What do we do?” he whispers, barely audible. “Why the hell would we be here anyway? There’s nothing…” 

It hits you both simultaneously. There is an excuse you could use for being here alone. 

And it’s the one prompting you to pull him closer by his tie. 

Oh, bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. 

You’re breathless. “Kiss me, Bucky.”

He probably shouldn’t. 

But you’re staring so intensely. His brain shuts off. You throw your arms around his neck, exchange a nod. Permissive. Dangerous. Necessary. Not for the mission, or for the act. 

For each other. 

Fuck it. It’s fine. 

Every simmering spark explodes all at once. After months of agony, your lips are reunited in a kiss, hot and blinding, that ignores the very idea of knowing better. His hands run endlessly over the material of your dress. Your fingers intertwine in his hair. 

As soon as he hit send on that message and you shot back a reply, you both hoped for this exact moment. 

If it weren’t for the bag bumping gently against your side like a reminder, you would lose all self restraint. The sounds of your lips and tongue are practically echoing off the walls. You wrap your leg around his waist, and he grabs your hip in response. To make it really convincing, you throw in a few broken gasps. 

But Bucky knows damn well you’re not just acting. It makes him dizzy. 

The intensity does definitely sell it. Your unwanted guests pass by as if nothing, save their disgusted looks. Disappointed, somebody points out that you must be the third couple they’ve caught doing this tonight. 

“Saw those two earlier in the lobby,” the assistant grumbles. “I’m not surprised.” 

They come and go, footsteps disappearing down the hallway until the door closes. 

Not that either of you care. You’re still a mess, tangled in the darkness of the archway. 

Eventually, your kisses lull – only to catch your breath. Foreheads pressed together, you are utterly drunk on each other’s proximity. 

But this isn’t quite over. Bucky’s metal hand, cool to the touch even through the glove, tilts your chin upwards for better access to your neck. The increased air exposure feels raw on your skin.

He gets back to work right away. 

Slowly, he presses a trail of several kisses up and down, from your jawline to your collarbone. Each is more agonizing than the last. You can feel the way he grins against you. It gives you goosebumps. 

“Bucky.” You grip his shoulder. “I think they’re–” Wow, his mouth is really distracting. “I think they’re gone.”  

“Oh, are they?” He plants his latest kiss below your ear. “I didn’t notice.”

He’s not letting up. Hmm, what a shame.

With a long sigh, you move your hand to the back of his head for stability. “Hilarious.” You make a sound halfway between a laugh and a gasp. “I knew you’d be good for this job.” 

“For which part?” Now Bucky lifts his head to look you straight in the eye. “Being undercover, or…” Putting an arm next to your shoulder, he pins you in with a smirk. “Being believable?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Mind you, this was my idea, babe.” 

“And it was a goddamn genius one,” he exhales. “Because you’re the perfect partner.” 

Your breath hitches in unison, vulnerability suddenly laid bare. 

“On that note, I–” Bucky clears his throat. Inhaling sharply, he pushes himself off the wall. “I understand if this whole, um – partnership thing was for the mission. So if you don’t want to–”

Your hand flies to his shoulder again. He gasps quietly. 

“I appreciate that, but…it was never just for the mission, Bucky. When I said I was glad to hear from you, I meant it.” You giggle. “Not strictly in a business sense, in case you couldn’t tell.”

He must look like he lost the ability to hear his own thoughts – which he did – because you throw your head back in another quiet laugh.

“I think this can work again,” you whisper. “Now that I want to come back.”

Bucky freezes. “You mean you want to rejoin the team?”

You nod. “It feels right. Everything about it.”

The air stills. Once again, you have a point. Everything does feel right. 

There is a default part of him that still nags about all of this. What if this is another disaster waiting to happen, an increasingly terrible idea? 

He feels a tug on his tie again. 

“So, in the meantime…Sam hasn’t contacted us yet.” A smirk dances on your lips. “Any objections for round two?” 

Strength dissolving, he leans back within inches of your face. It’s your back pressed against the wall, but you’re in complete control this time. 

Grinning stupidly, Bucky shakes his head. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚  

By the time you reconvene with Sam and head back to the safehouse, nothing feels real. Your table has several orders of milkshakes and fries, ordered on your phone in celebration of a job well done. The artifacts are organized, labeled, and packaged to be shipped to research facilities accordingly. Now you’re on video call with Steve and Natasha, their holograms hazy under the kitchen overhead light.

You and Bucky both hope the marks on your neck aren’t visible yet. On camera or otherwise. 

Except everybody is already ecstatic since you broke the news of your return. That is, in fact, a major reason why you’re giddy. Surely it’ll pass as the sole explanation. 

“Excellent work, everyone,” Steve declares with a smile. 

Nodding, Natasha adds, “That was one of our cleanest missions yet. By far.” 

“Hell yeah,” Sam says. He raises his milkshake towards you in a toast. “Special shoutout to our un-retired agent of the hour.” 

“Thanks, guys.” You beam. “This was definitely a team effort, though. You made it even more exciting than I already knew it would be.”

You press your knee against Bucky’s under the table. He wants to faint. He has to keep reminding himself to pull it together. 

To his dismay, the zone-out celebration is cut short. He notices a glint in Sam’s eye that he really doesn’t like. Everyone else must have recognized it, too, because the table is strangely silent. 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Don’t give me that look.” 

“What look?” he asks. “I’m not giving you a look.” 

“If you have something to say, Sam, just spit it out.” 

“That’s okay, I’ll do it for him.” Natasha grins wickedly. “He’s mad he owes me thirty bucks.” 

You’ve been around them long enough to know when something is up. Cautiously picking up a fry, you ask, “Do I want to know what this is about?” 

All of the color drains from Bucky’s face immediately. There’s no way. 

He forgot Nat was on goddamn surveillance. 

The woes are immediately interrupted by another whiplash – a complete outburst of laughter from Sam. Like, full-belly, tear-inducing laughter. “I don’t – I don’t even care about the money,” he manages to get out. “The story, it – it was too good.”

“I didn’t see much, if that makes you feel better,” she says. “Don’t worry, I gave you enough privacy.” 

This time, Steve’s attempt to hide his laugh is very poor. 

“Besides”– Sam elbows you with a wink –“from the sounds of it, you had fun.” 

“Oh.” You pause another fry that’s midair on the way to your mouth. “I see.” 

Bucky can think of a million other places he would rather be than here. Probably somewhere with only you, first and foremost. 

Then, running your free hand over your face, you laugh. Nervous, but not quite ashamed. “Well.” You turn towards Bucky and tuck a piece of stray hair behind his ear. “In my defense, he was reminding me what a good partner he can be.” 

The kitchen erupts into a chorus of either groans, fake gags, or laughs. 

Still, humiliation aside, Bucky smiles. This mission left him silently hopeful from the word jump – no matter how much he denied it. Now he can’t believe you’re finally coming back into their lives. 

If these are the worst consequences of your (sexy) little stint, then this whole idea really wasn’t that bad after all.

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆

✮ taglist! @iristheplanet16

[imnotjustreadingg-volume-two]

Colour? Always green

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader  genre: established relationship | jealousy (not toxic) | fluff | PinV | oral (f and m receiving) | overstimulation | little degradation | sub!bucky | dom!reader | consensual pain | chocking | mastrubation | use of toys | cockwarming | tons of “colour? green” word count: 8844 summary: Bucky is Y/N's big and super soldier boyfriend. He always so calm and quiet. He wants more and Y/N is more than ready to give him all he wants.

It was a normal Tuesday.

She was in their apartment, hair still damp from the shower wearing one of Bucky’s sweatshirts and sipping coffee like the world wasn’t about to tilt sideways. Bucky was sitting on the couch, barefoot and loose-limbed in a grey t-shirt, scrolling casually through his phone like it was just another day.

He was looking at her.

He had always been the one to initiate; kisses that deepened too quickly, hands that gripped tighter than necessary and moans that begged for release. But right before things tipped over into something raw and feral, he would hesitate.

A beat too long.

A flicker of something behind those ocean blue eyes.

A silent wait.

That day, as naturally as someone might say pass the sugar, he said something. “I want you to take control of me.”

She choked on her sip. “What?” She asked.

He looked up at her, relaxed.

Serious.

A faint grin tugged at his lips, like he had known she’d react exactly like this.

“In bed,” he added. “I want you to take control. I think I’d like it.”

She lowered the mug slowly on the side table, blinking at him like he had grown a second metal arm. “Bucky,” she said carefully, “you want me to… dominate you?”

He shrugged. “I mean... not with... whips and chains unless you’re into that... in that case then we can talk… but yeah. I trust you. I wanna try it.”

She stared.

He stared back.

“I don’t… this isn’t a small thing,” she said, her voice softening. “You were… controlled, for decades. You didn’t get to say no. Or choose what you wanted. And now you’re asking me to do that to you again?”

Bucky nodded once. “Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been with who doesn’t want something from me. Not like that. You never tried to fix me or treat me like I’m fragile. You make me feel like I’m just… your guy.”

“You are my guy,” she said.

He smiled. “Right. So don’t freak out when I say this is me choosing it. Choosing you. Choosing to let go because it’s you. I’m giving it to.”

Her breath caught. “I don’t want to mess this up,” she whispered.

“You won’t.”

“You’re Bucky Barnes. Former Winter Soldier... war hero... treated like a human weapon-”

“…and now I’m a boyfriend,” he cut in gently, “...asking his very loving, slightly over-caffeinated girlfriend to tie him to the headboard and ruin him a little bit.”

She snorted, despite the tears pricking her eyes. He was so strong, now, thinking of the past. She wasn’t.

He grinned. “Look, sweetheart,” he added softer now, “I know what it meant when they took control of me. And it’s not what I’m asking from you. They took everything. I’m giving this to you. There’s a difference.”

She nodded slowly, her throat tight. “And if at any point you need to stop…”

“I’ll tell you,” He promised. “We’ll do safe words, check-ins, whatever you need. But, I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

A long pause. Then she said, “Okay. Let’s talk about it. Rules. Boundaries. What you like.”

His smile grew wide and boyish. “And maybe… when we start, you can call me something? Like ‘good boy’.” 

She smirked. “Get on your knees and ask nicely.”

He blinked. Laughed. “Oh,” he said, eyes darkening. “We’re doing this now?”

She sipped her coffee again. “Don’t keep me waiting, Barnes.”

The first night in control, she led him to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. He sat at the edge of the bed, nervous energy radiating off him, fingers fidgeting in his lap. She stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“Strip,” she said gently but firmly.

He blinked up at her, surprised by the tone, but obeyed. He undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing broad shoulders and the sculpted lines of muscle beneath. She let her eyes rake over every inch of him, and he flushed under her gaze.

“Slower,” she instructed when he moved to undo his belt. He nodded, face pink, and slowed down.

Each movement became deliberate, sensual. He slid the belt through the loops, then slightly lift his hips pushing his pants down, until he stood in nothing but his briefs already thigh.

She stepped closer and tilted his chin up. “Colour?”

“Green,” he whispered.

“Good boy,” she murmured, and his breath shuddered at the praise.

“You like that?” She teased. “You like being called my good boy?” He nodded, jaw clenched, trying not to whimper. “Say it.”

“Yes. I like it,” he admitted. “I like it when you take over.”

“I know, baby,” she said. “I can tell. You’ve been holding back. But not tonight.”

She pushed his back onto the bed and climbed over him, straddling his hips. She ground slowly against his cock through the fabric, and he whimpered, his hands twitching beside him. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.

“Can I tie you up?” His eyes went wide, they were seriously doing it, so he nodded immediately. “Use your words, Bucky.”

“Yes. Please,” he said breathlessly. “I trust you.”

She reached into the drawer and pulled out soft restraints not metal, not rough, just fabric and secured them to the headboard. He laid there, gorgeous and vulnerable, looking at her like she had hung the moon. She kissed him then deep, slow, claiming.

“You’re doing so well for me,” she whispered into his mouth. His cock twitched. She kissed down his throat, over his chest, and when she flicked her tongue over his nipple, he gasped. “Sensitive?” She teased.

“Yes,” he panted. “Please, keep going.”

She toyed with him a little longer, watching him writhe before finally slipping off his briefs. His cock sprang free hard, leaking, desperate. She wrapped her hand around him and stroked slowly and firmly. He moaned, head thrown back.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” she purred.

“Please… please don’t stop,” he begged.

She smiled wickedly. “Oh, I’m not stopping. Not until you ask me to.” His eyes darkened with lust. She pumped him steadily while she kissed and bit at his neck, murmuring praise between every whimper he gave her.

Then she let go.

“Wha-?” he panted.

“Did I say you would come?”

He shook his head, dizzy with want.

“Exactly. You’ll wait until I say so.” She reached between her legs, wet and aching, and slid down onto him without warning. He shouted, hips jerking up, restrained arms pulling instinctively.

“Fuck!” he gasped. “God, baby-”

She started riding him slow and deep, grinding in a way that had both on the edge in seconds. “You feel so fucking good,” she groaned, nails dragging down his chest.

He moaned, eyes rolling back. “I can’t-I can’t hold it-”

“Yes, you can,” she whispered against his lips. “Be a good boy for mommy. Just a little longer.”

“Y/N... please.”

“I said wait.”

And he did. Shaking, trembling, teeth gritted but he obeyed.

When she finally let him come, it was with her hand around his throat and her lips at his ear. “Now,” she growled. “Cum for me.”

He broke. His whole body arched, cock pulsing inside her, the sounds he made utterly wrecked. She kept moving, pushing him through it, riding out her own climax moments later as he sobbed her name.

Aftercare was slow, tender. She removed the restrain, kissed his wrists where the fabric had left marks, and ran a warm cloth over every inch of him. He clung to her afterward, head tucked into her neck like a child.

“You okay?” She whispered.

He nodded against her skin. “That was the best I’ve ever felt.”

She kissed his hair. “You were perfect. My perfect boy.”

His voice was a whisper. “I want more. Next time… can you make me beg harder?”

She grinned. “Oh, baby,” she murmured. “We’re just getting started.”

“That was…” he whispered. “Incredible.”

“You’re seriously okay?” she murmured again.

“I’ve never felt so safe,” he said.

She nuzzled into him, heart full, body humming.

I want more. Next time… can you make me beg harder

His words still echoed in her mind. She was straddling him again but this time, he trembled before she even touched him. The restraints were tighter that night. His arms stretched above him, biceps flexed with tension, wrists bound in black leather cuffs. Being a super soldier would have allowed him to easily break the cuffs, but that night he wasn’t Bucky Barnes the super soldier. He was Bucky Barnes Y/N’s little toy.

She had blindfolded him too because that night, he had wanted more. He had wanted it harder. Rougher. Deeper. And she was going to give it to him. “Colour, baby?” She asked softly, stroking his jaw.

“Green,” he replied, voice already hoarse. “Please, just do whatever you want with me.”

She hummed approvingly and dragged her nails down his chest, slow and cruel, watching the way his body arched to meet the sting. “You want to be used?” She whispered, lips brushing his throat. “You want me to fuck you like you’re just a toy?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, I want that. Please.”

She slapped his thigh, just hard enough to make him flinch. “What’s my name, baby?”

“Ma’am,” he said instantly. “Sorry... ma'am.”

“Good boy,” she purred. “Now open your mouth.”

He obeyed without hesitation, tongue out like he was worshipping her. She spat. He moaned so loud it shook her spine.

“You’re disgusting,” she said sweetly, wiping her thumb across his wet bottom lip. “I love it.”

He groaned, hips bucking uselessly into the air. “Ma’am, I need-”

“You don’t need anything except what I give you,” she snapped, grabbing his throat not hard, just enough to remind him who he belonged to. “You’re mine. Every inch of you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, already nearly wrecked.

She reached between her legs, teasing herself while he strained against the cuffs, desperate to see, to touch, to feel more. Then she lowered herself onto his cock in one smooth, brutal motion. He screamed. “Shut the fuck up,” she hissed, clamping a hand over his mouth. “You don’t want the neighbours to know how desperate you are, do you?”

He shook his head, hips trembling, cock pulsing inside her.

She started riding him hard. No teasing this time. Just a punishing pace, relentless grind, skin slapping and nails digging into his chest. “You like being used, huh?” she growled. “Like being tied down while I fuck myself on you?”

His muffled moan was frantic. She pulled her hand off his mouth just as he gasped, “I’m gonna come, I-fuck, I can’t-”

She stopped moving entirely.

“Ma’am-!”

She slapped him again. “Did I say you could come?”

“No, ma’am,” he panted. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... please don’t stop-”

She leaned in close, her voice low and cruel. “If you cum without permission, I’ll edge you all night and leave you in the cuffs until morning. Understood?”

He shook violently. “Yes. Please. I’ll be good. I swear.”

She started riding him again but slower now. Controlled. Torturously deep. She watched his face twist beneath the blindfold, listening to the little sobs he tried to choke down. He was crying by the time she let him speak again.

“Ma’am,” he begged. “Please. I can’t take it...I need to come..I need to cum for you...”

“You want to cum for me, sweetheart?” She whispered.

He nodded furiously. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

She slid her fingers into his mouth and let him suck on them like he was starved. “You’ll come when I say,” she growled. “And you’ll thank me for it.”

“Y-yes... thank you... ma’am-thank you...”

And then she finally let go. She bounced on him hard, merciless, grabbing his jaw, his throat, anything she could reach as she fucked both toward the edge. “Cum for me,” she ordered. “Now.”

He shattered beneath her. He came with a scream, shaking so violently she thought the cuffs might snap. She rode it out, fucked him through it until he was gasping, sobbing, still hard from how wrecked she had made him.

She leaned down, tongue in his mouth, voice soft again. “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect little toy.”

He whimpered. “Thank you. Thank you, ma’am. I love you.”

She smiled and cupped his flushed, tear-streaked face. “I love you too.”

He was still twitching inside her. His skin was flushed, his breathing shallow, arms boneless at his sides where they now rested free, but not reaching. He didn’t touch her unless she let him. She had ruined him, and he had loved every second of it. And she was still straddling him, her thighs trembling, soaked and sore and aching in the best possible way. But she hadn’t moved. Not really. She was still wrapped around him. His cock, softening, was still inside her and she wasn’t letting him go. Not yet. She leaned down, hands bracketing either side of his head, her breath warm against his lips.

“Don’t pull out,” she whispered.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy. “Wha-?”

She smiled. “Just stay there. Stay inside me. I want to feel you.”

His pupils went wide again, and the sound he made was somewhere between a whimper and a sob. “You-you wanna just…” he trailed off, blinking up at her like she had handed him the moon.

“Yes, baby,” she murmured, nuzzling into his jaw. “You feel so warm. So full. So mine.”

He shivered. She shifted just slightly, just enough to press him deeper into her, and his breath caught like she had punched the air from his lungs. “Fuck,” he groaned. “I-Ma’am-please…”

“Please what?” She asked sweetly, stroking his damp hair back from his forehead.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, honest and wrecked. “I just-please don’t stop touching me.”

She smiled, tender and possessive all at once. “I’m not stopping, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere.”

She rolled her hips just once slow and cruel and he jerked, overstimulated, tears still fresh on his cheeks. Her chest pressed to his.

“Too much?” She asked softly.

“Too good,” he breathed. “I wanna take it. I wanna be good.”

“Oh, you are good,” she cooed. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever had.”

She didn’t move again. Not really. She let him feel every inch of her heat around him, soft and slow and pulsing with afterglow. She tilted his face up to kiss him slow, languid, worshipful. And Bucky just lay there, blissed out and pliant under her hands, letting her own him in the quiet aftermath. He didn’t even flinch when she tucked her hand between their sweaty bodies, reaching down to trace a circle over her clit not to come again, just to feel the pressure with his cock still buried inside. He whined, eyes fluttering shut again.

“You’re gonna stay like this for a while,” she whispered. “Let me soak you up.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You like being inside me, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “I’d live here if you let me.”

She grinned. “Maybe I will.”

And she meant it. Because she loved the way he melted. She loved how soft he got after she broke him. She loved the way his hands trembled when they finally touched her, reverent and careful like she was made of stardust. She loved that he had asked for this. And now he was hers. So she held him there, cock still buried deep, heart beating against hers, until they both fell asleep together, still connected, still full. Because that was what he wanted. And she would give him everything.

The morning sunlight spilled through the blinds in soft golden strips across the room. He was still asleep when she woke. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and his face tucked into her neck like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

One of his legs was draped almost over her thigh, and she realized with a soft fluttering ache, that he wasn’t planning to let her go anytime soon.

Her body was sore. Deliciously sore. But her mind… was uneasy.

She kept replaying the night before in her head; the slaps, the pressure, the things she had said. The sounds he made when she made him beg. The tears in his eyes. The way he screamed when he came. She had loved it. He seemed to love it.

But what if it had been too much? What if she had missed something?

She brushed a hand through his messy hair, feeling him nuzzle closer, a low hum vibrating in his throat. He was still half-asleep when she slowly slipped him out of her. Still conscious of her presence, even in that foggy haze.

“Why did you do that? You’re not allowed to get up.”

“You’re bossy again now?” She chuckled quietly. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled. He shifted and pulled her tighter. “You’re my pillow now.”

“Bucky…”

He paused. She didn’t mean to say it like that, quiet and uncertain. She felt him stiffen slightly. He pulled back just enough to look at her. She already slid off his body. She didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at him. The sleepiness still in his eyes, the red marks on his neck from her finger, the faint fading lines from the restraints on his wrists.

Then she asked, barely above a whisper, “Was it… too much?” He blinked. “I mean last night,” she added quickly. “The slapping. The edging. The cockwarming. The way I talked to you. You cried, Bucky. I-I just need to know it was okay.”

“The cock-what?” He asked, blinking slowly.

“Is… when you were inside me without moving,” she replied a little embarrassed, worried he only cared about the definition. He nodded. 

“So? The other things?” She asked again. He stared at her like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then he propped himself up on one elbow and took her hand into both of his like it was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

“Baby,” he said, voice hoarse and full of heat and tenderness, “that was the most loved I’ve ever felt in my entire life.” Her eyes stung. “I’m serious,” he said, low and warm. “You were perfect. You were careful. You asked my colour. You stopped when I needed it. You touched me after. You kissed me. You... you held me.” Then, his eyes glittering, he added, “Even that cock… something…”

She laughed. “Cockwarming.”

“Yeah!” He laughed too, dropping his head to her chest. “Cockwarming. Definitely ten outta ten.”

She breathed relieved, amused and totally overwhelmed by how much she loved him. “But I slapped you,” she said suddenly.

He smiled. “And I nearly came from it.”

She blinked. “You did?”

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed softly, “you could’ve spat in my mouth and slapped me again and I’d have thanked you.” She flushed. “Which you did... and if I remembered correctly, I did thank you.” He replied, laughing. “But I’m serious,” he continued. “You weren’t too much. You were exactly what I needed. I felt so safe. Seen. So…” He trailed off, breath catching. Then, softly. “I felt yours. And I wanted that.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” he said fiercely. “You gave me everything I didn’t know how to ask for.” He kissed her cheeks. Her jaw. Her nose. And then he rolled on top of her, not with hunger or dominance, but with pure, desperate affection.

“Can we just stay here?” he whispered. “All day? I wanna hold you. I wanna fall asleep inside you again. I wanna have breakfast naked and have you drag me back to bed before the coffee even brews.”

She laughed against his chest. “I want that too,” she whispered.

“You didn’t scare me,” he murmured. “You made me feel free.”

Her heart clenched. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,” she said, eyes shining.

He grinned. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss her slow and deep. “Then let’s ruin me again tonight.”

The apartment now smelled like coffee, warm maple syrup, and sin. Bucky stood at the stove completely naked, except for a dish towel slung over one shoulder like he’d remembered to be domestic, just not dressed.

His back was all muscle and bite marks, his neck littered with evidence of how the morning started, his hair messily tied up, strands falling over his cheekbones. He flipped pancakes with focus, but not enough to ignore her as she strolled past behind him equally bare, stealing a strawberry from the counter and kissing his shoulder as she did. He made a soft sound something between a sigh and a moan and leaned into her touch like gravity worked differently when she was near.

She then perched on the counter stool legs crossed grinning, as he brought over two plates cock swaying slightly as he walked not caring at all. He set them down and leaned in to kiss her. “You’re really committing to this naked-breakfast thing,” he murmured against her lips.

She smirked. “Oh, I declared it. It’s law now.”

He chuckled, nose brushing hers. “Then I better never wear clothes again.”

Breakfast took a long time. The coffee went cold.

They ate like that, bare knees bumping, syrup sticky on fingers and mouths. She licked it off his thumb at one point and he dropped his fork with a groan. And when he ended up on his knees between her legs again, she decided that naked-breakfast might be the best idea he ever had.

"You made me feel so good," Bucky murmured, voice thick with devotion, lips already ghosting over the inside of her thigh as he knelt between her legs. His eyes, impossibly blue and blown wide with hunger, looked up at her like she was the only religion he'd ever worship.

“I need to return the favour,” he added, tone teasing but reverent, like the act wasn’t just desire, but duty.

A promise.

She didn’t oppose. Didn’t say a word. Just leaned back on the stool, legs falling wider apart as if to say "Yes. Take what you want".

And Bucky did. Not with greed. With purpose.

He turned the stool, so her back was completely against the counter and then he kissed her between her thighs like she was a sacred thing. Like tasting her was a right he had to earn, again and again. His hands slid beneath her thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. He groaned like her pleasure fed him. And she let go utterly, completely because when Bucky Barnes made a promise, especially with his mouth…

He meant it. In that moment, the submissive Bucky Barnes was long forgotten. But just for that breakfast.

She curled up on the couch, the late afternoon sunlight painting soft gold across the living room. Bucky sat beside her, knees almost touching, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. There was something in the air, a mix of excitement and hesitation that made her heart skip. He looked up at her, eyes steady but uncertain.

“Hey,” he said quietly. She smiled, waiting.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, voice low. She tilted her head. “I want to try something,” he said. “Something… a little spicy.” She raised an eyebrow.

Were this two days not spicy enough? She thought.

He exhaled, then chuckled nervously. “Like, I want you to control me more. Outside the bedroom.”

She blinked. “Outside? Like, in public?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Like, I want to feel you have that power. Even when we’re not alone.” Her mind raced thrill.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “What do you mean exactly?”

He pulled something small from his pocket a sleek vibrating ring. “I want you to use this on me,” he said, cheeks colouring. “At dinner. Or a movie. Somewhere public. I want to feel you… teasing me. Controlling me. But no one else knows.” She stared at the ring in her hand, still amazed he had even suggested it.

“How do you even know about this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky smirked, a rare mischievous glint lighting up his blue eyes. “Hydra didn’t just break me,” he said softly. “They… experimented. Control... submission... all kinds of things. I learned a few things about what made me tick.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “But this?” She said, holding up the ring. “This was your idea?”

He nodded, voice low. “Yeah. Took me a while to admit it. But I knew what I wanted now.”

She studied him. The idea sent a delicious shiver down her spine. “Are you sure?” She asked softly. “It’s a lot.”

He met her gaze without hesitation. “I trusted you. It was a lot back then, now... it's something hot and exciting I want to try with my girl.”

She took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

His smile was shy, hopeful. “Thank you,” he whispered almost relieved.

She leaned in and kissed his temple. “Tonight’s going to be fun.” She smiled, leaning in close. “You’re full of surprises, Sergeant Barnes.”

He grinned, brushing a hand down her arm. “Only for you.”

That night, the small vibrating ring slipped beneath his trousers as they headed out. Their secret, her power and his surrender all wrapped up in one electric thrill.

He stood still in the bedroom, already dressed in slacks and nothing else, his black dress shirt still hanging open. His chest rose and fell slowly as she stepped toward him, holding the black ring between her fingers. His pupils blew wide at the sight of it.

“You remember what this does, right?” She asked, voice soft but firm.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smirked. “Good.”

He watched her drop to her knees in front of him, his breath catching as her fingers slipped the ring on slowly, deliberately around the base of his cock letting the snug stretch claim him fully. He hissed under his breath, hips jerking slightly as the cool touch gave way to tight warmth.

She pressed the pad of her thumb lightly against the button on the side. It didn’t buzz yet, but the threat of it did more than enough. “You’ll wear it through dinner,” she murmured, rising to her feet, smoothing down her dress. “No complaining. No fidgeting. No coming.”

Bucky nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “If you behave, maybe I’ll ride you while it’s still on.”

He groaned softly, bit down on it to stay still. She kissed his cheek, sweet and possessive, then stepped back to grab her clutch. “Now be a good boy,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door. “And don’t make me press the button while we’re ordering appetizers.”

His cock throbbed inside the ring. And he followed her like he’d been summoned.

The restaurant bustled ambient chatter, clinking glasses, the soft murmur of a jazz band playing in the corner. She sat across from Bucky, her fingers casually wrapped around the stem of her wine glass. His gaze kept flicking to her, curious and tense. Because beneath his tailored black trousers, hidden beneath the table, he wore the small vibrating ring she had slipped on him before dinner.

She toyed with the discreet remote in her pocket, pressing the button lightly. A soft buzz rolled through him. Bucky’s breath hitched just slightly. He cleared his throat, pretending to study the menu. She pressed again. Harder this time. Heat flooded his face. His fingers tightened around his napkin.

She leaned forward on the table, voice low but clear. “Good boy,” she murmured, eyes locked on his. He swallowed. She pressed the button once more. A burst of vibration rocked him. He bit his lip, trying to keep his composure. His pulse thundered in his neck. She watched him struggle silent, obedient. The waiter approached with their food. Bucky kept his voice steady.

“Thank you.”

She smiled.

Later, when the coast was clear, she pressed the button again, this time holding it. Bucky’s hips twitched. His hand twitched on his thigh, but he kept it still. He looked up at her. Eyes bright, pleading.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

She shook her head with mock severity. “Not yet,” she said. She leaned down, her foot brushing his under the table. “You belong to me.”

He exhaled, surrendering. The rest of dinner passed in delicious tension. His control slipping, her power rising.

Later, in the privacy of her apartment, she undid him. His breath caught. “You did so well,” she praised, trailing kisses down his neck. He melted against her, the weight of obedience and trust pressing between them like a secret treasure.

The door had barely clicked shut behind them before she had him against it. Bucky’s breath came in sharp, shallow pants as she tugged at his tie, loosening it with one hand while the other slid down his chest. His shirt was wrinkled, his jaw tense and his cock, still caged in his slacks, was rock-hard and twitching inside the vibrating ring she never once activated during dinner. But he felt it. Every second. Its snug grip. The threat of it. The weight of her control.

“Please,” he rasped, eyes blown wide, hands clenched at his sides. “Please touch me-please, I’ve been so good-”

“I know,” she purred, dragging her lips along the line of his throat. “I watched you squirm through three courses without making a sound.”

She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, fingers quick to undo his belt. The second his cock sprang free, she pressed the button in her clutch.

The ring came to life.

Bucky groaned like he’d been shot, knees buckling slightly as the low hum buzzed around the base of his cock, behind his balls, vibrations shooting straight through him. “Fuck-baby, fuck-”

“Bedroom,” she ordered.

He stumbled down the hall, panting, moaning, too far gone to speak. By the time he reached the edge of the bed, she was behind him again, nails down his spine, mouth at his ear.

“On your back.” He obeyed instantly, cock twitching in the air, the toy still humming around him. She climbed on top, straddling his hips, and reached down to line him up. He whimpered.

“Color?” She whispered.

“Green,” he gasped. “So green, please, I need to be inside you-”

She slid down onto him in one smooth motion, and Bucky cried out. His hands shot up instinctively, but she caught his wrists and pinned above his head. The vibrating ring pressed tight at the base of his cock, amplifying every stroke, every squeeze of her walls around him. “Oh my god-oh my-please, I’m not gonna last-”

His eyes rolled back. She rode him hard fast, deep, controlled. The friction from the ring made every thrust feel impossibly intense, and Bucky was unraveling fast, every moan turning into a choked sob.

“You’re such a good toy,” she whispered, leaning over him. “So perfect like this. Owned. Ruined.”

“Yours,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Only yours-please-please let me cum-”

“Beg.” He did.

Every filthy word, every broken plea. And finally, finally, when she felt him start to lose control.

“Now,” she whispered. “Cum for me, baby.”

Bucky shattered. He came with a cry so loud it echoed, cock throbbing wildly inside her, the vibrations only making it more intense. He trembled beneath her, gasping, helpless, the ring still humming at the base of his spent cock. She stayed on top of him, let him ride it out, let him feel everything. Only when his body went limp did she finally press the button again, turning it off. He blinked up at her, flushed and dazed, eyes glassy with satisfaction.

“I think I saw god,” he mumbled.

She smiled, brushing sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “No, sweetheart,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. “You saw me.” And he smiled back like that was so much better.

Since Bucky became aware of the toys you could use on him, she decided it was her time to play. The teasing started long before the limo pulled up to the Avengers’ tower. Bucky wore a black-on-black suit that fit like sin. His hair slicked back but still a little unruly near his ears. His metal hand rested on your thigh.

She wore that dress, the one with the slit high enough to kill and not back to speak of. But it wasn’t the dress undoing him. It was the toy. The small, remote-controlled vibrator tucked inside her. 

He knew it was there because he put it in her, right before they left the apartment on her instruction, on his knees, kissing your thighs while she stood over him in heels tall in front of him, already dressed in that backless black gown commanding.

Bucky knelt between her legs, obedient and reverent, his large hands steady as he held the small toy and followed her instructions to the letter. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh then another, higher this time, lips lingering against her skin like he didn’t want to stop. The air was thick with tension, with need, with control.

She didn’t touch him. Just looked down and said, softly, “Good boy.”

And Bucky, hard in his slacks, flushed with submission. Felt pride flood his chest. He slid the toy inside her with care and trembling hands. Then he sat back on his heels and looked up at her like she hung the stars. She hadn’t turned it on yet. Not once. She just wanted him to think about it. So you leaned over in the limo, lips brushing his ear. 

“Be good for me tonight,” you whispered. “Or I’ll make it buzz right when Steve gives his speech.”

He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled. “Good boy.”

The gala was elegant, classy, and boring as hell. Until she made eye contact with Bucky from across the ballroom and pressed the remote in your clutch. The toy buzzed to life inside her. Just enough to make her legs twitch. He noticed the twitch, eyeing her like an eagle.

Suddenly, he was aware of her movements only, of her perfume thanks to his enhanced sense of smell. He choked over his champagne flute. He tried to pretend everything was fine, but his jaw clenched and his hand tightened around the glass. His eyes burning a hole in your dress.

She raised your glass to him with a smile.

Across the room, he mouthed Please.

She raised the intensity one notch. His fingers twitched. By the time she pulled him into the elevator, his hands were shaking.

He had been hard for over an hour, struggling to focus, fighting the urge to drop to his knees and beg.

“You having fun?” She murmured, pressing him against the wall.

“Ma’am,” he gasped, “please let me taste you. Please. I need to make you cum...please.” She hummed, considering.

Then said, “On your knees. Right here.”

His eyes widened. She hit the emergency stop button and he dropped.

Right there in the Tower elevator, suit wrinkled and tie undone, Bucky pushed your dress up and spread your thighs, devouring you like he was starving.

Like worship.

Like repentance.

Like it was his purpose in life.

She came against his mouth in minutes shuddering and moaning. Her fingers tangled in his hair while the city spun behind you through the glass elevator wall. He was rock-hard and dripping in his pants, panting, looking up at her like he needed her to end him.

But she wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Back in their apartment, she dragged him straight to the mirror in the bedroom. He was still in his suit, shirt open, tie hanging around his neck.

She pushed him into the chair in front of the full-length mirror and straddled his lap. “You’re going to watch this time,” she said, grabbing his jaw.

“W-What?” He stammered.

“You’re going to watch yourself fall apart while I ride you. Eyes open. Hands behind your back. Don’t look away.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he choked out, breathless.

She slid down onto him in one long, slow thrust, and he whined. Her hand clamped around his throat, just enough to hold him still. “Look at you,” she murmured. “Look how desperate you are for me.”

He flushed, panting, trembling under her, watching your body move over his in the mirror.

“Such a good toy,” she whispered. “So fucking pretty when you beg.” She rode him slow at first deep, grinding movements that pushed him to the edge. His moans broke into sobs. “I’m gonna cum-I can’t-”

She squeezed his throat. “No.”

He shook. Whimpered. Fought for control. And she didn’t stop.

“You’ll cum when I say. Not before. Look in the mirror and see what you do for me, baby. Look how perfect you are.”

He screamed when she finally said the words.

“Cum, baby. Cum for me.”

And he did shaking, eyes locked on hers in the mirror, sobbing her name as he came so hard she felt him throb inside you. But she didn’t lift off yet.

She just leaned in and kissed his temple. “Stay there,” you whispered. “Stay inside me, again.”

You both sat there, bodies tangled, still connected, still full.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “I love being yours.”

She kissed his jaw. “I love owning you.”

She hadn’t planned on losing her mind in public.

It started as a normal event, another stuffy Stark-hosted charity gala, another excuse for her and Bucky to show up in matching black and look devastating together. And Bucky? He again looked like sin in a suit.

The dark navy tux hugged his frame like it was made for him, sleeves tight around his biceps, chest mouth-wateringly broad. His hair was tied back, jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He was all smiles and charm, like nothing could rattle him. Until someone tried.

A woman tall, blonde, sharp drifted over during a lull in the conversations. She wore red lipstick and a confidence that read entitled. Her eyes dragged over Bucky’s frame like she was picking something off a menu.

“Oh my god,” she purred. “You’re James Barnes, aren’t you?”

Bucky smiled, polite. “Just Bucky.”

She leaned in, touching his arm, her nails painted blood-red. “Well, Bucky, if you’re not doing anything later…”

She stood right beside him. That woman knew. She didn’t care. Y/N saw Bucky stiffen slightly, polite discomfort but he was still too kind to shut it down cold. And something in her snapped.

Not because she thought he’d cheat. Not because she was insecure. But because he was hers. And someone was touching what was hers like they had a right. Bucky glanced at her, reading your expression immediately. He said nothing but his posture changed. He straightened. Submitted. Even now, in public. She leaned in and took his glass from his hand slow, casual, but loaded with meaning. Then she slid your hand down the center of his back.

“Baby,” she said with a smile so sharp it could draw blood, “can you get me a drink?”

He nodded, instantly. “Yes, ma’am.”

The woman blinked.

Ma’am?

But she was already turning to her. “That’s my boyfriend,” she said sweetly. “And I don’t share.” Her mouth opened to respond. You didn’t wait to hear it.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked quietly some minutes later. She shook her head once, but she didn’t answer. His breath stuttered. The elevator doors closed behind her with a soft mechanical hiss. And she still didn’t say a word. She stood beside him in silence arms crossed, lips tight, her expression unreadable. Bucky shifted his weight slightly.

“Baby…” She didn’t look at him. His voice softened. Careful. Testing. “I didn’t even look at her.”

Still, she said nothing.

She stared ahead at the metal doors, jaw clenched and her heart still hammering with that sick, hot mix of adrenaline and jealousy.

He glanced at her, worry flickering behind his eyes. “Please don’t shut down on me,” he said quietly. “Talk to me.”

She finally spoke with voice low, calm, and sharp enough to cut. “She touched you.” Bucky blinked. “She touched you,” she repeated, turning to face him now. “Ran her hand down your arm like I wasn’t even standing next to you.”

“I didn’t want her to,” he said quickly. “I froze. I didn’t even look at her, I swear-”

“I know,” she said. “I know, Bucky. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He hesitated. “Then why won’t you look at me like you usually do?”

She sighed, long and tight. “Because I’m mad,” she said. “I’m mad that someone else thought they had the right to even lay a finger on what belongs to me.”

His breath caught. And slowly, almost instinctively, he stepped closer. Eyes wide. Submissive. She didn’t touch him yet. But he already looked like he was melting under the weight of her stare.

“You know I’m yours,” he whispered.

“I know you are,” she snapped, voice rising just a little. “But maybe she didn’t.” She grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him against her. “Never let other women touch you,” she growled.

“I swear it won’t happen again.”

“I know,” she snapped. “You were good. Polite. Too polite.”

His voice was a whisper. “Are you going to punish me?”

She stopped the elevator. “Pants down.”

“Here?”

She arched an eyebrow. “That’s not the first time in this elevator,” she said in a low and dangerous tone. He swallowed and immediately dropped his trousers. They fell to his ankles with a soft rustle, and his cock sprang free already half-hard just from her tone, her silence, her power. She stepped in front of him, pressed her body close. And she wrapped her hand around him. He gasped.

“Color?” She murmured.

“Fucking green,” he said without hesitation. “Please.”

“Good boy.” She stroked him slowly, her fingers gliding from base to tip in tight, deliberate motions. He moaned low, his head dropping to her shoulder, hips twitching forward as he melted into her touch.

“This what you wanted?” She murmured against his neck. “Some stranger staring at your cock like she had the right?”

“No-no, ma’am-I didn’t-fuck-”

She tightened her grip and picked up speed, dragging her fist up and down with a rhythm that made his knees shake. His breath was hot and ragged, lips parted, brow furrowed in desperate pleasure. And just as his moans grew louder, she reached behind him. And pressed the elevator button. The elevator lurched back to life, beginning its slow ascent.

Bucky whimpered, eyes flying open. “Fuck... are we...?”

“Yes,” she purred, lips brushing his ear. “Let’s see how well you behave now.” He trembled. She didn’t stop stroking him.

The lights ticked upward: 9… 8… 7…

He was panting now, cock pulsing in her grip, his voice nothing more than a choked whine. “Please-ma’am-please-someone might-”

She squeezed just under the head, hard enough to make his whole-body jerk. “Oh, now you’re shy?” She sneered. “Where was that modesty when she had her hand on your arm?”

“I-I didn’t want her-I swear-”

The elevator dinged again. Almost at the exit floor. She stopped, suddenly. Just like that. Let go. Stepped back.

“Pants up.” He stared at you wrecked, leaking, panting, eyes wide and dazed. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” she said coolly, fixing her lipstick in the reflection of the steel doors. “Pants up, soldier.”

He fumbled with his zipper, cock twitching uselessly, breath still shuddering in his lungs. Just as the doors opened, he managed to get himself tucked in.

She stepped out first. “Next time someone looks at you like you’re theirs,” she said over your shoulder, “remember what I didn’t let you have.” She heard him groan softly, footsteps slow behind her. And she smiled. Because he was dripping hard in his pants. And still so fucking her.

He was still panting by the time she got him inside the apartment. Now naked, flushed, his cock angry-red and still leaking from the hand job in the elevator, he stood in the middle of her bedroom, trembling slightly, still under the spell of her power. 

“On the chair,” she said calmly.

He moved without hesitation. She watched him sit thighs spread, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling like he had been through a war. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed and slid out of her dress. No rush. She let him see everything. He made a soft, helpless sound when her fingers slipped into her panties.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she warned. He nodded, biting down on his lip so hard it turned white. She lay back on the bed, legs parted, fingers slipping between her folds as she locked eyes with him. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

His jaw dropped slightly. “Fuck,” he whispered.

She slid two fingers inside herself and moaned, just loud enough to make his cock twitch. Bucky shifted in the chair, his hands still obediently behind his back, but his thighs shook, his chest heaved.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes. Please. I’ve been good. I was good for you-”

“You were,” she hummed. “But this is your reward.”

She circled her clit with slow, steady pressure, letting him see every arch of her back and every twitch of her thighs. She moaned his name. His eyes fluttered. But he still didn’t move. Because she hadn’t told him to. She dragged it out, letting herself fall apart slowly, deliberately, with his eyes glued to her the whole time. When her legs started to tremble and her moans grew louder, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

“Keep watching, baby.”

He whined, desperate and stunned, cock pulsing against his thigh.

And then she came, gasping his name, thighs clenched tight, fingers slick and shaking. He made a soft, broken sound like it hurt not to be touching her. She panted, catching her breath, then sat up slowly.

“Colour?” she asked.

“Green,” he said instantly. “So fucking green.”

She smiled.

“Good.” She walked toward him naked, glowing, slick with satisfaction. Then she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Now,” she murmured, wrapping her hand around his cock. “Now I’ll let you fall apart.”

He sobbed in relief. She ruined him with her mouth, finger tasting of herself, because he earned it. Because he watched. Obeyed. Surrendered. Because he was hers. She made him stand up, then pushed him down onto the mattress, face-up, spread his thighs, and climbed on top of him. No teasing. No warm-up.

Just her nails raking down his chest, her hand around his throat, her body lowering onto his cock in one slick, deep stroke.

“Fuck!” he gasped, hips jerking. “Keep still,” she growled.

He gripped the sheets. She rode him hard, punishing, hips slapping against his with brutal rhythm. His moans broke into cries needy and high, begging with his eyes even though his mouth didn’t dare speak.

She leaned down, lips at his ear. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “No one else touches what’s mine.”

“No one,” he choked. “Just you-just you, I swear-”

She slapped his thigh. “I know. But I need you to feel it.”

She rode him until he sobbed, begging, coming with her name on his lips like a prayer. She didn’t stop. He whimpered overstimulated, sensitive but she fucked him through it, owning every last shudder.

When she finally collapsed on top of him, both soaked in sweat, her fingers slid up to his jaw, gentle now. “Are you okay?” She asked.

He nodded shakily. “Perfect.”

“Too much?”

He kissed her forehead. “Not enough. Do it again next time someone looks at me like that.”

She huffed a laugh. “You like when I get jealous?”

He grinned, dazed and love-drunk. “I like when you remind me I belong to you.”

She didn’t blame Bucky. She never blamed Bucky. He had stood next to her the entire time, polite and awkward, doing his best to quietly shift away from the woman clearly eye-fucking him across the bar.

She touched his arm.

She laughed at a joke he didn’t even make.

She leaned in, too close, acting like she wasn’t standing right there with her hand around his waist.

And Bucky? He just stood frozen, because he was too good, too careful, too Bucky to snap at a stranger. Too loyal to give her the time of day. But she? She wasn’t built to stay quiet. By the time the woman finally walked away, lips pouted, and pride wounded, Bucky turned to her like he had just stepped out of a minefield. She smiled at him. Sweetly. Too sweetly.

And he knew. “Baby,” he said slowly, carefully, “I didn’t-”

“I know,” she said. “You were perfect.”

He relaxed a little. But that tight, polite smile was still stretched across her lips. And he knew better than to think she’d let it go.

“You going to tell me why you let her put her hands on you like that?” She asked.

His brows lifted, stunned. “I didn’t let her do anything, I didn’t even touch her. I just froze, I guess, when she touched me. I would never cheat on you, doll.”

“I know that,” she said, voice sharp. “I know you would never. But she sure as hell thought she could.”

He blinked. “So… you’re mad at her?”

“I’m furious at her,” she hissed. “For thinking she could flirt with you like I don’t exist.”

Bucky’s breath caught at that.

She paused, swallowed. “I got scared.”

He turned toward her, eyes wide.

“Scared?” He echoed.

She nodded. “Because what if I’m too much?” She whispered. “Too bossy. Too rough. What if you realize you want someone softer? Someone who doesn’t order you around, who doesn’t make you get on your knees in elevators or beg not to come someone who just lets you be?”

There was silence. Then the soft sound of sheets shifting as he pushed up onto his elbows. His voice was ragged quiet, but absolutely clear.

“These last few days with you controlling me? They were the best of my life.” She looked at him, startled. His hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, mouth trembling. “You don’t make me feel small,” he said. “You make me feel safe. You give me the one thing no one ever did.”

“Choice...” Her throat tightened.

“Exaclty. I asked you to do that to me.” His voice broke the silence, low and steady against the top of her head. She lifted her gaze to meet his, confused. He looked down at her like she hung the stars. “All of it,” he said softly. “The orders. The edging. The teasing. The elevator. The way you grabbed my jaw and told me I was yours in front of a goddamn mirror.”

She blushed. He leaned in closer, brushing his nose along hers. “I wanted that. I wanted you. I asked for this. Not because I want to be punished. Not because I feel guilty. Because it feels like freedom.”

Her throat tightened more. He continued, voice barely more than a whisper “I don’t want someone soft. I want someone who sees me. Who knows how to own me without erasing me. Who makes me feel like giving up control is the bravest thing I’ve ever done... and you, baby?” He cupped her cheek, gentle but firm. “You give that to me.”

She closed her eyes, breathing in the safety of him. The weight of his words sank into her bones. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her, slow and tender. “You don’t have to say thank you for giving me what I begged you for.”

She curled against his chest, fingers curled into his skin. “So, you’re really okay?” She murmured.

“Okay?” He echoed. “More than okay.” He added, “I don’t want softer,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “I want you. I want your orders, your hands, your voice in my ear telling me I’m yours. That’s what I need.”

She crawled into his arms and buried her face in his neck, holding him close.

He kissed her forehead. “You can be as bossy as you want,” he said, smiling softly. “Just never stop being mine.”

She nodded against his chest. “Never.”

Later, when she was curled around him in bed, stroking his hair, he nuzzled into her chest. “You really got that mad over her?” He murmured, soft and amazed.

She hummed. “I don’t share.”

He chuckled, eyes heavy with sleep. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I never wanted anyone else to begin with.”

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[satlun]

THUNDERBOLTS* (2025) // IRON MAN 2 (2010)

Congressman Barnes meets Tony Stark’s assistant for the first time.

[lotsoflokilove23]

Guys I have a confession 🫣

[lotsoflokilove23]

I’m scared to look 👀

[lotsoflokilove23]

Oh man, has it been that long 😂

[lotsoflokilove23]

Bro to many spoilers for Loki on Instagram 😫

[lotsoflokilove23]

Bro I want these so badlyyyy

[lokismidgardmistress]

Youre sitting at a bar. The bartender gives you a free drínk and says:"Its from gentleman over there."

You turn around and see him.

What do you do?

[nikkoliferous]

Engage him in a nine hour conversation about Loki, probably 😂

[five-miles-over]

Paging every one of my friends because this is going to be FUN

@anukulee @aesonmae @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtiggerv2 @the-haven-of-fiction @asgards-princess-of-mischief @icytrickster17

@wolfsmom1 @lady-rose-moon @chantsdemarins @lotsoflokilove23

[lotsoflokilove23]

Oh boy, probably ask for a few photos and then try to talk to him ALL night. (All my other answers are VERY unrealistic)