‷ music producer!bucky x singer!reader
summary: as a rising singer, signed and promoted by Barnes Records, you try to find your way through the overwhelming whirlwind that is LA. Little do you know, your producer, Bucky, is determined to do everything to keep you as his biggest star. ft. Yelena Belova, your manager!
word count: 10,8k
ââ .⊠WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI; no use of y/n, bucky doesnât have a metal arm in this au, smut, bits of angst, curse words, lots of manipulation, alcohol, toxic ârelationshipâ, slight corruption kink, reader is a mess, power abuse, mean!bucky, praising kink (but itâs barely there), degradation, dry humping, pussy slapping, dumbification, choking, size kink, tummy bulge, spanking, office sex, rough sex, dom!bucky, PiV (unprotected sex), orgasm denial, overstimulation, creampie, breeding kink.
ââ· sophie's note: back to back to back to bwa! this fic is my contribution to the bwat summer collab <3! the fic gave me a headache but in the end i really like it so a win is a win. big thanks to bri @iamthatonefangirl for co-hosting this collab with me, and for brainstorming the ideas which ended up in creating our little alternative universe, paul @superbassbuck who encouraged me to write mean!bucky, and gave me some ideas, and ken @heldbybarnes for beta-reading đ i love you guys
LA is not what you expected.
You thought it'd be much differentâendless possibilities, and that effortless glow of the city that everyone seems to have in the Instagram stories.
Instead, it feels like a whirlwind that never seems to slow down.
Don't get it twistedâyou love this life, you really do.
You love the rush of new songs hitting number one on the charts. You love when your phone explodes with messages from your manager Yelena that are just a string of fire emojis followed by "we're going platinum, babyyyyyy". You love the arenas full of people singing your words back to you. You love the sparkly outfits, the stage light, and the pride that comes with finally making it⊠it's everything you dreamed of.
But god, it's exhausting.
Your DMs are a war zone of thirst, hate, and brand deals. Everything you say or post has to be consulted with your PR team first. The paparazzi hide around every corner, everytime you step outside there's this weird pressure to look like a filtered version of yourself 24/7, even when you're just trying to buy matcha in sweatpants, and oversized hoodie.
There's eyes on you all the time, and everywhere you go.
But now, there's different set of eyes that pierces through you.
"You ready?" a familiar voice brings you back to reality from the mess that are your thoughts. Bucky's standing behind the mixing console with broad shoulders, separated by the plexiglass vocal booth window. His brown hair is freshly trimmed but still somehow manages to look soft, and a little fluffy. The sharp line of his jaw is tense with concentration, and those striking eyesâin probably the most beautiful shade of blue you've ever seenâare locked on you.
There were times when you used to be nervous around him. You still sometimes are, but it's different now. His bossy demeanor doesn't feel so scary anymore. There's something grouding about it actually.
"Yeah," you respond, a little unsure, but he just nods once, professional as always.
"Okay⊠we start in 3⊠2⊠1âŠ"
The music begins to play through your headphones â synths layered under a more gentle beat that feels like it was made for the exact mood you've been carrying lately.
You close your eyes, letting the melody wrap around you as you start to sing. Your voice fills the booth, growing stronger with each line. The words Bucky wrote for you just a few weeks ago feel different sang out loud. They're strange, but you try to pour the emotionsâboth wonder and exhaustionâinto the verse, swaying slightly as the song builds.
When it ends, and you ease into pre-chorus, you chance a glance trough the glass.
Bucky is leaning forward, one of his hands is adjusting a knob while the other is resting on the console. Those blue eyes flick up to meet yours for a brief second, and the corner of his mouth twitches in what might almost be approval. The edges of his face seem a fraction softer under the low studio lights, letting you breathe a little easier which is life changing when you try to hit the right note. Trust.
You're supposed to flow right into the chorus, but for some stupid reason, the words catch in your throat. Your voice fades out mid-line, and you stop completely.
Bucky pauses the track immediately, and the sudden silence rings in your headphones. He straightens up, brows furrowed.
"What's wrong?" he asks, looking down at the waveform on his screen for a moment before looking back at you. "That was perfect."
The dissapointment in his tone hits you harder than you could expect.
"I⊠I don't know," you admit, cheeks warming as you fidget with the edge of your sleeve. "I just don't feel it, Bucky."
Bucky exhales quietly. It's not quite a sigh, but still, it's enough to let you know you fucked up without saying it directly.
"I'm telling you it was good," he says, crossing his arms over his chest, and you can clearly hear that underlying impatience in his voice. "Let's try again," he orders, and hits the rewind, then play button on the console. The music surrounds you again, and Bucky leaves you no room for discussion.
The truth is, what Bucky wants, Bucky gets. It doesn't really matter that your singing doesn't feel right to you. He is the one to decide everything. You are only hereâin this fancy ass studio, with your name starting to mean something in the industryâbecause of him.
It all started with the covers you used to post onlineâyou in your bedroom, singing to simple acoustic versions of big songs with both video audio quality so bad it was embarrasing.
Bucky found one of them one night, months ago. He'd told you later that something in your delievery made him stop scrolling, and that he saw potential no one else had bothered to look for. Whatever that meant.
Within weeks, he was pulling all the strings he couldâflying you out for meetings, getting you in front of the right people, and quietly taking care of the mountain of family debts that had been weighing on you for years. He didn't make a big show of it. He just⊠said he handled it because you needed it to move on. So he paid for what was needed to be paid, and cleared that path for you.
Now here you areâattached to him because it feels like the right thing to do after everything he's ever done for you, despite the fact that agreement you signed with his label was probably equivalent to a deal with the devil.
You have to admit though, Bucky himself is not so bad.
He's your boss, and owns the entire label you're signed under, yes. But besides that, he's also produces your songs and helps you write them.
And although you have to follow what he says, and do what he wants, it seems like he's the only person in this world beside Yelena that genuinely cares for you. He always makes sure you're well rested, even if that means rescheduling a session when he notices the exhaustion in your eyes. He tries to reassure you when the doubts creep in, offering quiet, gruff encouragement in that low voice of his, and "It's okay, I know you can do it" that somehow cuts throught the noise in your head.
Bucky somehow always seems to know what to say or do, and he is the only one who still makes you feel looked after.
Because of that, you two got pretty close⊠as some would say.
And maybe you're mistaken. Maybe that is just an another illusion in the world full of fame, and lies. Or maybe you just want someone to care because despite thousands of fans, you still feel very fucking lonely.
But then, Bucky wouldn't be doing all of this, right?
The thoughts swirl too heavily in your chest. Your voice catches again mid-line, weaker this time, and you stop singing completely, eyes squeezing shut.
Bucky stops the track right away.
"I'm sorryâ" you apologize, voice small.
His gaze softens when he looks at you through the glass. "You have nothing to apologize for, doll."
You swallow hard. "I don't like how it sounds, Buck. How I sound⊠It's not like⊠me."
He watches you for a beat, then steps out from behind the console. A moment later he's opening the door to the vocal booth, and steps inside, making the room feel so much smaller with him in it.
"I told ya, it's good, thoughâŠ" he says casually, as you try your best to not break down in front of him. "I think my opinion should matter to you."
"I know⊠I'm sorry."
He reaches out, and his hand gently rests on you arm, warm through the sleeve of your sweater.
"It's okay. Let's take a break, and start again, hm? Does that sound good?"
You nod, and that insufferable knot in your chest looses a little.
"Thanks," you whisper, and your eyes flick down to where his thumb is now brushing lazy circles against your sweater.
"You knowâŠ" he starts "We can always scrap what we have and start over⊠it would take more time, and I'd have to rewrite the lyrics probably , andâ"
"No!" you cut him off quickly. Your uncertainty shifts into guilt.
The idea of wasting his time â his money, his effort â after everything he's done for you makes your stomach twist. No matter how much you hated the outcome, you would hate yourself more if you let that happen.
"I'll sing it⊠It's fine."
Bucky studies you for a second, those deep blue eyes search your face like he's trying to read everything you're not saying, The line of his jaw is relaxed now, not longer tense with that earlier impatience, which makes you feel more at peace.
"You sure," he asks? "We've got time, doll. Doesn't have to be today."
"I'm sure," you exclaim, trying to give him a reassuring smile.
The next afternoon, you're in the back of a sleek black Range Rover as the city's traffic crawls outside the tinted windows.
Yelena sits beside you with legs crossed, flipping trough her tablet, and checking a schedule that's somehow more packed than LA's streets. She'd been your manager since the very beginning â hired by no one other than Bucky, of course â but the two of you had clicked almost immediately.
Yelena was quite good at her job. In fact, she was probably one of the best in the business. She kept your calendar organized down to the minute, booked interviews months in advance, made sure you never missed a fitting, a rehearsal, or a meeting, and somehow always knew exactly what you were supposed to do before you did.
But she did far more than what was written in her job description.
She was fiercely protective of you.
Whether it meant shutting down reporters who asked questions that crossed the line, pulling you away from fans who refused to respect your boundaries, or making sure you actually ate something between back-to-back appearanes, Yelena always seemed to have one eye out on your career and the other on you. You'd lost count of how many times she'd marched into your dressing room with breakfast plate in one hand, and a coffee in the other, declaring that no interview was happening until you finished both.
She never tried to replace your family that you ended up leaving in search for a better life, nor did she pretended to be your friend but you'd earned each other's trust, and that means a lot, when everyone around is fake nice just to benefit from you.
"So," she says, swiping to the next page, completely in her element. "radio interview tomorrow morning, rehearsal in the evening, photoshoot got pushed to Thursday⊠which, honestly, saved everyone's ass because your stylist was about to have a breakdown. She was threatening to quit after yesterdayâŠ"
A smile tugs at your lips. "I think she says that every week."
"She does." Yelena nods, matter-of-factly. "But this time I think she actually meant it."
You let out a quiet hum in response, while your attentions drifts between her voice and the endless line of brake lights stretching ahead.
"âŠThen there'sâŠ" she continues, squinting at the screen. "Two press interviews, one magazine cover shoot⊠Another rehearsal right before an event with the Barnes Records executives Wednesday nightâŠ. Writing session with Bucky the next day⊠Then you've gotâ"
Your phone vibrates against your thigh, stealing your attention immediately.
You fish it out of the pocket of your jacket, and glance at the glowing screen.
Bucky | 1:41PM
hey. here's the sample from our last session. let me know what you think.
sample_1.mp3
Before you can stop yourself, a breathy ironic laugh escapes your lips, echoing in the car, which actually makes Yelena look away from her tablet.
"What was that?" she asks, both confused and concerned.
You quickly lock your phone, and toss it onto your lap as if she'd caught you doing something embarassing.
"Nothing," you respond, shaking your head dismissively, but that only makes her narrow her eyes at you.
"MhmâŠ"
"It was just Bucky," you explain, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of your jacket before speaking again. "He sent me the demo from yesterday's session."
"And?"
You lift your phone again, reading the message once more.
"Let me know what you think," you repeat, umable to hide sarcasm coating your voice, and another dry laugh slips out. "As if my opinion changes anything."
Yelena's brows knit together ever so slightly. "Did something happen yesterday?"
You hesitate for a moment, and the memory of your own voice carrying lyrics that suddently stopped feeling like yours comes back.
"I don't know," you admit quietly. "Something just felt⊠wrong." You lean your head back against the seat, watching skyscrapes dissapear behind the darkened glass. "I couldn't get into it."
"You've had off days before," Yelena says, nudging you on the shoulder, as if that was supposed to bring you some comfort.
"This wasn't that, Lena," you pause, searching for the right words. "It sounded good. At least that's what Bucky kept saying but I didn't believe him." You shrug helplessly, and your fingers start to absentmindedly trace the edge of your phone. "I stopped halfway through because I couldn't sing it anymore."
"And what did he say?"
You sigh, replaying the scene in your head.
"He rewound the track," you say at last. "We tried again. And again. Until I lied and finally said I like it" Your shoulders rise and drop again.
Yelena is quiet for a moment, and you don't even expect her to respond right away because that's the thing â even though Yelena may be your friend, she would never question Bucky, and his decisions.
That is exactly what kind of person Bucky is in this industry. No one would dare to say a bad word about him because that man had more connections than you could think of, which meant he could probably ruin your life by making just one call to the right person.
"SoâŠ" Yelena's watching you like she's trying to figure what to say without either judging you or defeding Bucky. "Are you going to listen to it?"
Your thumb hovers over the audio file, and the play button stares back at you. Eventually, you lock your phone again with a soft click.
"I already know what it sounds like."
"Come on, you haven't even played it!" she tries to encourage.
"I don't have to," you offer a tired smile that doesn't really reach your eyes. "If Bucky thinks it's good then it's enoughâŠ" The sentence feels heavier the second it leaves your mouth, and again, Yelena doesn't respond, although you can feel her eyes on you. Your own attention is fixed outside the window instead. The palms sway lazily against the perfect California sky, almost mocking how chaotic everything always feels beneath it.
Before she says anything, the car begins to slow. The soft hum of the engine changes as the driver turns into the entrance of your hotel. The tires roll over the smooth pavement leading toward the front door.
The concract pages lay open on the marble table in your hotel suite, and your fingers tremble slightly as you trace over the clauses you'd signed months ago.
Section 4.2. â Exclusivity
Artist agrees to grant Barnes Records exclusive worldwide rights to all sound recordings, performances, and related materials created during the term of this agreement. Artist shall not release, perform or distribute any musical content independently or through any third party without the prior written consent of Barnes Records.
Section 5.1 â Creative Control
Barnes Records shall have final approval over all recordings, songs selections, arrangements, mixes, and final masters. Artist's input shall be considered advisory only.
Section 7.3 â Promotional Obligations
Artist agrees to full compliance with all promotional, publicity, and appearance requirements as determined by Barnes Records, including but not limited to interviews, photoshoots, live performances, and social media activity.
Section 9.1 â Non-Compete
During the term and for twelve (12) months thereafter, Artist shall not engane in any conlicting musical or entertainment activities without express permission.
âŠWell, you're fucked.
You're staring at the piece of paper with tears in your eyes.
You should be grateful. People would kill to be in your spot, and you're probably being selfish. You should be kissing Bucky's feet for everything he did for you, and you know it.
Because what are you supposed to do? There is no fucking way you're escaping this agreement, so maybe it's time to make peace with it, and just listen to Bucky. Produce songs you hate, and be someone you're not.
You wipe at your eyes quickly, even though no one's here to see you fall apart. Maybe this is just what growing up in this industry looks like. Maybe the version of you that sang freely in your bedroom was never meant to survive here. Maybe the only way forward is to smile, nod, and let Bucky steer the wheel.
Your phone sits on the table beside the contract, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you pick it up, and open your messages with Bucky.
Your thumb hovers for a long moment before you start typing a message.
You | 3:08PM
hey. actually i don't know if i love it. i'm sorry. i feel like i'm missing everything up lately.
You hit send before you can delete it, then immediately regret how vulnerable it sounds.
The typing bubbles appear almost right away.
Bucky | 3:09PM
you're not messing anything up. come by the studio tomorrow morning if you want. we can talk it through. no pressure.
You let out a shaky breath, stare at his message, then finally respond.
You | 3:10PM
I have an interview tomorrow morning⊠sorryâŠ
And the reply comes faster than you'd expect.
Bucky | 3:10PM
then maybe i'll come pick you up after? we'll get lunch together. you need time off too ;)
You read the message twice. A small flutter blooms in your chest.
On one hand, you're nervous to actually talk to him about the song. On the other hand⊠work aside, spending time with Bucky doesn't sound so bad. It probably shouldn't excite you as much as it does, but the idea brings you some comfort. After all, he is right â you do deserve some time off.
You | 3:11PM
yeah! that sounds nice, actually. thank you.
The dressing room mirror is still lit up with those harsh light bulbs as you sit in front of it, catching your features to the point where it's almost blidning.
The inteview had gone well â at least according to everyone else, including Yelena who leans against the vanity beside you, arms crossed, looking pleased.
"You killed it," she says with a satisfied nod. "They loved the story about the upcoming album. And the way you teased them with the upcoming feature with Dazzler was perfect," she extends the word, making her russian accent slip out. "That's exactly what we needed for the promo. The clip is already getting traction online. We'll have the full segment up by tonight."
You manage a small smile, nodding along as you slip your jacket back on over the cute interview outfit.
"That's good."
"Ratings are going to be solid. A few more like this and we'll even have more buzz for the release. You should be proud of yourself." Yelena keeps talking.
You're just about to reply when there's a light knock on the dressing room door. It opens a second later, and Bucky steps inside.
He looks unfairly good for someone who probably woke up way too early just to spent the entire morning working in the studio. The black simple shirt he's wearing has some designer logo you can't really recognize because of the dark jacket atop of it. His hair looks much more styled today, and his steel eyes find you immediately, making the corner of his mouth lift.
"Hey," he says. His gaze flicks over you for a second. "You ready?"
You stand up, smoothing down your skirt, suddenly very aware of how your heart picks up at his presence.
Yelena glances between the two of you, one eyebrow raised slightly.
"WellâŠ" she grabs her hoodie, and slings it over her arm, ready to slip out. "I guess my job's done for now. Gonna leave you two alone."
Before she can fully step out the door, Bucky stops her.
"How did the interview go?"
Yelena pauses in the doorway, flashing quick but confident smile, and you know he's not asking if it actually went well. He's asking if it's making good numbers, and if he's going to benefit from it.
"It went really well!" she answered charmingly, telling him the same thing she did to you.
Meanwhile you stand there quietly, watching Bucky's reaction.
He ends up giving a small nod that looks satisfied but not so surprised as if he excpected nothing less. Then he turns his head toward you. Your eyes lock instantly, and he smiles at you.
"Always knew my girl has it." he says casually, and the praise makes your knees feel a little weak. Heat rushes to your cheek and you have to look down for a second, biting the inside of your lip to keep from completely melting on the spot.
It's ridiculous how much those few words affect you. Especially after the spiral you had last evening, but coming from him, they feel like they matter more than anything else.
"Okay!âŠ" Yelena nods, unsure what to say in such awkward position, then clears her throat. "Call me when you need something." She gives you both a goodbye smile and leaves, closing the door behind her.
You grab your purse, slinging it over your shoulder, and follow Bucky out.
The hallway is quiet as you walk side by side toward the back exit where his car is waiting. The black SUV with a driver inside is already idling. Bucky opens the door for you before sliding in after, settling beside you in the back seat.
The car pulls smoothly into traffic. You're both silent for a while, letting the hum of the engine take over the quiet.
Eventually, Bucky shifts slightly, turning his attention to you instad of the city outside.
"You still feel like you don't want to release that song?" he asks, picking up where yesterday's iMessage conversation left off.
You nod, cheeks burning with shame as you look down at your hands. "YeahâŠ"
"That's okay," he says without hesitation. "We can scrap it."
"I don't wanna cause you troubles," you murmur, hating how small your voice sounds compared to his.
Bucky chuckles softly. "You could never."
Unexpectedly, Bucky reaches over and places his hand on your thigh. His palm feels warm against your bare skin where your skirt had ridden up just a little when you sat down.
Your eyes drop instantly to the spot where his fingers rest, and your heart slams against your ribs while heat begins to pool low in your belly.
Bucky keeps looking ahead at the road like it's the most natural thing in the world when his thumb starts brushing slow absentminded strokes against your leg.
You press your lips together, trying to stay composed, but you're body's compeltely shut. Your thighs press closer instinctively, and you wonder if Bucky can notice.
It makes you so fucking horny it's ridiculous, and that makes you realize just how freaking busy you've been with your career lately.
There was no time to date. No time for anything, so no one touched you in months. You're fucking touch-starved, and here's the result: you squirming in your seat with ache between your legs caused by your boss. Great!
"You knowâŠ" Bucky starts talking again. "You've been doing great lately. Your latest single is still climbing in the charts⊠The interview today went well too according to YelenaâŠ"
You try to listen, but his hand still caressing you is making it really difficult, sparking up your skin, and getting you desperately wet.
"I feel like you're really trying your best for my label. Am I right?" he asks, glancing over at you.
You nod quickly, suddenly more nervous under Bucky's gaze. "Yesâ Of course, Bucky."
He just smiles, more to himself than to you, with a hint of mischief in it. Then he turns his head away, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding until now.
The restaurant Bucky picked is one of those upscale places tucked away in a hidden corner of the city â all dim lightning, white table cloths and waiters who move with so much grace.
Of course he chose it. Another small irony. Even something as simple as where you eat lunch is under his control. Just like everything else.
You're both done eating now, plates cleared away, leaving just half-full glasses of water. The conversation has stayed light so far â safe territory. Bucky asked about the interview again, and you asked about a track he's been working on for another artist.
You can't help but wonder if he's this close with all the artists he works with but unfortunately, you can't ask him that.
Bucky leans back in his chair, looking relaxed. His jacket is off now, and his sleeves are rolled up, showing his muscular forearms. They look much better here, in the daylight than in the studio, and you probably shouldn't be glancing at them every few moments, but you do anyway. In the end, he's the one who made a mess out of you in the car. And this is just one of the consequences of it.
"You're getting better at all of this," he begins, picking up his glass. "The spotlight, the press⊠the performance of it." He pauses for a second to take a sip. "Doesn't mean you have to like every part of it, though."
The words hit a little too close. You trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertip, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Yeah⊠some parts are still harder than others."
Bucky lets out a low tsk. He draps one arm over the backrest, looking every bit the man who holds all the cards. The soft restaurant lightning catches the sharp line of his jaw, that now seems more tense than just minutes ago, and his blue eyes look even more intense asa he studies you across the table.
"You can't always get what you want," he says, voice calm and steady like he's stating a simple fact, which⊠he is, but you know damn well that this talk is definitely leading somewhere. "We all have to pay a price for our decisions. This is how this business works, doll."
You look up at him, a bit scared now where the hell this conversation is heading. You catch how his tone changed â more authoritative now.
Bucky continues without missing a beat, swirling the last bit of water in his glass before setting it down. "I have another deal for you. A friend of mine, she's a director. She needs a single for her upcoming movie. I already told her you'll do it."
Your mouth opens, and then closes again. Words fail you for a second.
Your schedule is already packed to the brim â interviews, photoshoots, rehearsals, studio time. You're barely keeping your head above water trying to finish your own album, and now this?
"Butâ my album," you start, voice coming out shakier than you wanted.
Bucky cuts you off smoothly, leaning forward slightly. "You scrapped a song, baby. You need to make up for it." His tone is somehow still gentle on the surface, although you know what's underneath. "I need my money back or we won't proceed with your album."
Your worries from yesterday come rushing back, even harder than before. Your thoughts spiral back to the conctract clauses, and the fear you're losing all the control. The words keep being stuck in your throat, so you just nod, deafeated.
"Okay," you whisper.
Bucky's expression softens with satisfaction. He reaches across the table and gently brushes his knuckles along your cheek. The touch is far too tender contrasted by what he just said.
"That's my girl,"
You almost choke on your own saliva, hearing that. You hate how fucking good his praise makes you feel, even now, with your stomach twisting, and your eyes stinging. It's pathethic, really. He just tightened the leash, and here you are, once again melting at his approval like some desperate idiot.
You wish your head wasn't such a mess of different thoughts. You wish that part of you â the one that felt genuinely grateful for everything Bucky had done for you â could stand up, and fight for herself, but there was no way you could bury that sentiment. You don't know why. You don't know why he is making you feel like this, and it's fucking annoying. You're nothing, but his fucking puppy, and while you hate it, why does it feel like that other part of you enjoys it?
"Fuck!" you're pacing back and forth in your hotel room, still in the clothes from lunch, frustration bubbling over the second Yelena walked in. "I can't make a song for that fucking movie, Yelena. I need my album to be finished by the end of summer. The promo is already out. I can't fucking reschedule it."
"Yeah. You can't," she says, sitting on the fotel with arms crossed. "The sales will go down, and Bucky will be even more pissed."
You drop face-first into onto the bed with a dramatic groan, burying your face in the pillow.
"Fuck! This is exactly what he wants, Lena. He'll then have another excuse to drag me into more projects."
Yelena sighs, standing up. and walking over to sit on the edge of the bed just to give your back a light, sympathetic pat.
"Listen⊠You'll make that song he asks for, and then we'll get you back to work on your album," she pauses, tilting her head. "What movie is it for again?"
You lift your head from the pillow. Strands of hair fall messily across your face as you push yourself up onto your elbows. Your voice comes out tired.
"I don't remember the title⊠Bucky mentioned it but I don't think I registered it. I think it's made by the same director who made Rendezvous, thoughâŠ"
Yelena freezes the moment she hears it. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and she stands up, shaking her head, before dragging her hand slowly down her face.
""Oh. My. GodâŠ" she mutters, sounding genuinely horrified. "Please tell me you're jokingâŠ"
You blink at her, eyebrows lifting in confusion, heart already sinking at her reaction. "What?"
"The woman who produced it just had a whole ass cancel party on Twitter," she says, voice dropping.
"What?! Why?!"
"I don't even know. but there's crazy shit going on," Yelena sighs deeply, rubbing her temples as she starts pacing the same path you were earlier. "Jeez, your name is going to look so bad signed under her movie. You need to talk to Barnes."
"Me?!" you point at yourself, sitting up fully on the bed now. "You're my manager."
"Yeah but he doesn't fucking listen to me!" she throws her hands up. "You're his favorite. You need to talk him out of it⊠somehow."
You let out a short, disbelieving chuckle, and the sound escapes you before you can stop it. Your brain gets stuck on that one word Yelena said, looping over and over like a catchy hook. You sit up fully on the bed now, pulling your knees to your chest as you tilt your head at her.
"Favorite?" you ask, voice softer now. "What does that mean?"
Yelena's expression changes in an instant. Her eyes widen just a fraction when she realizes she said too much, and suddenly, she becomes very interested in smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on her sleeve. She clears her throat, still avoiding your gaze.
"You know what it means, " she mutters, trying to play it casual but the slight flush on her cheeks gives her away.
"No, I don't" you insist, leaning forward a little.
Yelena lets out a long, defeated sigh, running her fingers through her perfectly styled hair, and messing it up slightly.
"Just convince him, please," she says, giving you a pleading look. "That'll save both of us a lot of work."
You stare at her for a second, then slowly nod.
"I'll see what I can doâŠ"
You repeat before you can fully think those words through. Inside though, you're already overthinking it.
How the hell are you supposed to change his mind?
You know damn well, Bucky doesn't exactly do "no." Once he decides something, it's set in stone. Especially when it involves money or deals.
The idea of walking into his office or calling him up, and somehow talking him out of this movie single feels laughable.
You may be his favorite like Yelena said â whatever that meant â but that doesn't guarantee you anything.
You need a different approach, and you better find it quickly.
The next day, you're in the middle of dance rehearsal. The studio mirrors each of your movements, every turn and tired expression. Sweat sticks your tank top to your back as the choreographer counts out the last eight-count of the routine.
When she finally calls for a five minute break, you almost collapse against the barre. You have been practicing the choreography for your upcoming tour for a month now, making sure it's perfect in every detail but today? It definitely isn't.
You're not sure if it's from over exhaustion or your thoughts are still somewhere else, and that's why you cannot focus. Maybe you're trying to dance out your annoyance, and helplessness instead of actually doing your job.
You grab your water bottle, and take a long sip, letting the cold liquid soothe your dry throat. Your phone sits on the floor near your bag, and you reach for it with your other hand, just to see it's already lit up with some notifications.
Yelena | 2:11PM
Did you talk to him?
Yelena | 2:11PM
??
Yelena | 2:12PM
Pleaseeee tell me you at least texted him
You read the messages, then instantly lock your phone without answering.
Of course you haven't talked to him. You haven't even sent a single message asking if the two of you can meet because just the thought of opening your chat with Bucky and typing anything about the movie single makes you sick. Honestly, you have no idea how to deal with it.
You take another sip of water, when your phone buzzes, and the screen lights up again.
Yelena | 2:35PM
well, he's going to be there at the event we're having today. maybe try your luck then! :D
Brilliant idea. There's no better circumstance than solving this in public at a packed industry event with cameras, and executives. Absolutely zero pressure!
You type your response fast.
You | 2:36PM
you are out of your mind
The event is already in full swing by the time you arrive. The clink of champagne glasses fills the elegant space, followed by the low hum of charmistatic conversations. Investors, label executives, and other more unknown faces mingle around polished tables, and big windows covered by big curtains that are supposed make the place feel more private.
You're wearing a fancy dark dress that hugs your figure just right, making you look expensive and put-together even when you're a mess underneath.
Yelena stays close at your side. Her eyes scan the room like she's already mapping out every important person in here, then leans in slightly to your side, nudging you.
"You can at least try and be nice to him tonight," she whispers, and you glance at her, adjusting your dress by pulling it up at the bust.
"Play up to him?" your eyebrows lift, and you cannot help a little smirk that's forming in the corner of your mouth.
"Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I mean⊠before you actually talk to him about the single. That doesn't sound like a bad plan, does it?"
She's right. It doesn't. You need to play it right, and today may be the first step.
You straighten your posture, and your gaze drifts across the room, searching for a familiar broad-shouldered figure with unforgettable eyes.
Yelena's hand lightly touches your arm as she nods toward the far side of the room.
"There he is."
You follow her line of sight, and spot him almost immediately. Bucky stands near one of the windows, deep in conversation with a small group of people.
From distance he looks completely at ease, one hand loosely holding a drink while the other rests in the pocket of his black suit.
Yelena starts walking towards them, dragging you along with her, and you follow a step behind, your heart already picking up its speed.
As you get closer, Bucky's attention shifts to you. His eyes flick over, and the second they land on you, they stay there, dragging down the length of your dress before coming back up to your face.
It's quick, and subtle enough that the others might not notice, but you do.
His eyes still don't leave you when Yelena greets the group with a bright, professional smile, already launching into polite introductions, and Bucky nods along, smiling at you, before cutting through the conversation.
"She looks gorgeous, doesn't she?" he says to the group, smooth and confident. "One of my greatest discoveries. Real presence on stage. You only come across such artists once in a while."
You force a soft but nervous chuckle as heat creeps up your neck, and others smile as well, nodding in agreement. His praise â again âdoes something to you, and just like always, you're not entirely sure how to take it.
So you just stand there, not sure how to react, what expression to wear, or whether you're supposed to say something or not.
You obviously know what he's doing â promoting you in front of his investors, polishing the story of his "greatest discovery" so they keep writing checks, and stay interested. Right now, you're just a shiny reminder of where their money is going which makes you feel like some animal in a zoo, while Bucky gets to show you off.
In the end, you stay quiet beside him, smiling carefully, and when eventually the conversation topic changes â someone brings up an upcoming festival and its sponsorship â the focus slowly moves away from you. The pressure eases just a little as the group starts talking among themselves again.
Bucky turns slightly toward you then, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes yours. His voice drops low, meant only for you.
"I meant what I said," he murmurs. "You look fabulous."
The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. A real blush rises to your cheeks this time, much warmer and harder to hide, and for once the smile that follows it is genuine.
"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself," you whisper back lightly.
That earns you a chuckle from Bucky, which seems to soften the sharp edges of his expression for a second. He turns a little more to your side, keeping his voice low so the others don't fully pull you back into their conversation yet.
"Long day?" he asks. "Yelena messaged me your rehearsal ran late."
You nod, careful to keep your tone warm, and easy, just like Yelena suggested â play nice, be pleasant, be nice to him.
"Yeah, it did," you reply with a small smile. "The choreography's coming together though. I'm just hoping my legs still work by the end of the week."
Bucky hums in amusement.
"You'll be fine. You always pull it off," there's confidence in the way he says it â more like it's a fact than a compliment. Then he tips his head slightly toward the group still talking nearby. "These people are already impressed. Just keep doing what you're doing."
You force yet another soft smile, trying to form another appropriate response but for a second you hesitate, then decide to push a little further â testing the waters, maybe even playing into whatever this thing between you is.
"You really think I'm worth all of this?" you ask, avoiding his gaze when the words leave your mouth.
Bucky lets out a short laugh, taken aback by the question like the idea of you doubting yourself is somehow ridiculous to him.
"You're serious?" he mutters, still smiling.
Before you can answer, your fingers brush against his as you both shift slightly. It's nothing more than just a light, accidental touch, but Bucky's eyes immediately drop to where your hands nearly meet.
It sends a shiver up your arm, and you instinctively pull your hand away â not because it made you uncomfortable, but because it did the opposite.
You pretend to fix the delicate bracelet on your other wrist, fingers fussing with the clasp even though it doesn't need adjusting.
Bucky watches you for a moment, then reaches out.
"Let me help you."
His hand is gentle as he takes yours. Warm fingers steady your wrist while he carefully tightens the clasp for you. Instead of letting go right away, his thumb brushes over the soft skin of your wrist in small circles.
The simple gesture is enough to make your breath catch. Heat blooms under your skin where he's touching you, and when you lift up your gaze from your hand, Bucky looks back up as well, still holding you.
"Answering your questionâŠ" he starts, ticking his jaw. "I think you're worth much more than that."
The next morning, you wake up to soft light filtering through the curtains, and a quiet ache behind your eyes.
You lie there for a long while, staring at the ceiling, genuinely not knowing what to think about yesterday.
You feel⊠wrong.
Not because of what happened, if anything, the opposite is true â just thinking about the way Bucky looked at you yesterday is enough to send you a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.
The problem is everything else, or more specifically â everything Yelena's said.
You roll onto your side, and pull the blanket higher, biting your lip as the thoughts in your head begin to overwhelm you again.
Maybe you should just sing that stupid single for Bucky like he asked.
Maybe Yelena is overreacting. Maybe the controversy will blow over. Maybe the easiest thing â the safest thing â is to stop fighting, and just do what he wants.
Especially because he can be so nice to you it hurts.
The idea settles uncomfortably in your mind, carrying equal parts resignation, and something that feels a little too much like wanting to please him.
You hate yourself for how mixed you feel.
You want more freedom â to make your own choices, write your own songs, and scrap them without guilt, to not feel like every decision has to go through him first.
But at the same time you cling to Bucky so tightly it's almost stupid. His approval still means too much, and his voice still settles something restless inside you.
Even now, lying alone in this expensive hotel bed, some pathethic part of you is still seeking his validation like it's the only thing that keeps you steady.
And the worst part is knowing just how deep that need goes.
Maybe it's not just a need. Maybe you actually feel something towards him.
Your thoughts drift further. You start wondering how he actually feels about you.
He can't be completely casual⊠not with the way he looks at you, not with the way he touches you like it's natural, and not with the way he says things that get stuck in your head.
If he does feel something⊠then he should understand. He should get where you're coming from.
If he cares about your career the way he claims to, then he shouldn't be pushing you into that single. He should see the risk. He should understand why you don't want it.
So maybe it's worth to at least discuss it with him.
You're sitting across from Bucky in his office. The afternoon light is diffused by the blinds, making the room look warmer, and much more comfortable.
Bucky's been talking to you for a few minutes now â details about the movie single, the timeline, the expected deadling, and something about the director's vision â but the words barely stick.
Your mind is too loud. Every sentence he says slides past you while your thoughts keep circling the same worried loop.
"⊠so if we lock the track by next week, we'll still have enough time for the mix, andâ"
Bucky stops mid-sentence. His blue eyes narrow slightly as he studies you.
"Hello? You there with me?"
You blink, snapping back into the moment. "Yeah, sorry⊠I justâŠ"
"Just what?"
Your fingers tighten in your lap. For a second you almost swallow the words, but they slip out anyway, hesitant.
"⊠Do you think being a part of this movie is a good idea, Buck?" The question is so quiet it's barely audible. You force yourself to keep going. "I've heard from Yelena that my name may not look best signed under that movie⊠because of the connections with the director."
Bucky shakes his head once â a short, annoyed motion â and leans back in his chair.
"Don't worry about it," he says flatly. "They pay a lot. That should be enough."
You shift in your seat, and you know you either say it all out now, or never.
"Butâ I don't know, Buck⊠I thought we could at least discuss itâ"
He interrupts before you can finish, standing from his chair with a sharp push. He starts pacing through the length of the office, shaking his head again â this time in clear disbelief.
"Discuss it?" He repeats after you. "What do you want to discuss, huh?"
You swallow hard.
"I just wish I had more to say. That's allâŠ" you pause, looking for the right words. "I wish I could write my own songs like other artists. Decide what I want to take a part in, and what not."
You can't look at him while you say it. Your head is low, and your gaze is fixed on your lap where you hold your hands, and nervously pick at your nails.
Bucky lets out a humorless chuckle.
"You gotta be kidding meâŠ" his jaw clenches, and his gaze is almost piercing through you. "After everything I did for you?"
The words hit you harded than you expected. Your head snaps up immediately.
"No⊠No, no, Bucky⊠That's not what I meant." You stand up, and cross the room, moving closer to him, hands slightly raised like you're trying to calm down the storm before it starts. "I didn't mean it like thatâ"
He's still mad. The frustration hasn't left his face.
"Like what?" he snaps. "Like I didn't fucking create you?"
Your hands drop uselessly to your sides. The sting of his words settles deep in your chest, feeling like a thorn.
At first you just look at him, brows scrunching together as your face slowly turns into a pleading expression.
"I just thought I actually mean something to you," you manage to admit quietly.
Maybe it's stupid â standing right in front of him like this, voice small, eyes burning. Maybe it's even pathetic, but you cannot help it. Tears are already pricking at the corners of your eyes as you just stand there, feeling completely exposed, and helpless under the weight of everything that's just been said.
Bucky watches you for a moment, then sighs. His voice is lower now, softer. He steps closer, and places his hands on your shoulders, gently trying to get you to look up at him.
"You do mean something to me."
You let out a shaky exhale, and Bucky's right hand drifts to your face, wiping away a tear that managed slip out.
"But business is business, baby. You have to understand that."
That only makes you want to cry harder. What is that even supposed to mean? That you matter⊠but not enough? That he cares⊠just not when it comes to things that actually hurt?
You look up at him with glassy eyes, tears finally starting to spill over freely.
Bucky's expression softens further. His thumb brushes gently across your skin.
"I know you can handle it, honeyâŠ" he encourages, and a broken little sob escapes you.
"I'm tired, Bucky."
That's all it seems to take for Bucky to pull you in without another word. His strong arms wrap around you as you bury your face against his chest.
Fresh tears soak into the fabric of his shirt while he holds you there, one hand coming up to caress the back of your head, smoothing over your hair in slow, steady strokes.
"There⊠There..." he murmurs soothingly against the crown of your head.
You don't even realize how tightly you are clinging to him â fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like it's the only solid thing left to hold onto, and for the first time in what feels like forever, for once, you feel so fucking at peace.
And not because anything is easier. Not because the pressure of everything â the single, your album, or your entire career â is lifted, but because he's here, allowing your to fall apart against him.
You don't care if it's genuine. You don't want to think about it now, just enjoy this one moment, when you don't have to be the polished artist or the grateful discovery or the girl who always says yes.
"Shh⊠it's alrightâŠ" Bucky whispers, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of your head. His hand slides from your head to his jaw, and he tilts your face up toward his.
You try so hard to avoid his gaze, ashamed of yourself.
"I know it's hard," he says as his eyes search yours. "I know you've been stressing a lot lately..."
There's a pause before Bucky speaks again.
"Maybe I could take some of that stress off ya, hm?âŠ"
Your eyebrows lift at that, finally meeting his eyes. At first you think you didn't hear him right, then you notice how his gaze drops to your mouth.
Bucky bites his lower lip softly, then looks back up at you, and the intent in his eyes is clear as a day.
Heat floods your cheeks as understanding hits. Your legs feel wobbly all of the sudden, and you can already feel yourself getting wet at the mere suggestion.
The truth is, you've been craving this more than you want to admit. You've been so lonely, drowning in schedules, and expectations that the idea of someone touching you feels almost desperate.
And it's not just anyone though. It's him.
You do want Bucky's hands on you. You want him to take you apart and put your back together, even if only for a little while.
You could only imagine how it feels like to be wanted, and worshipped like you matter beyond the songs and the stupid contract.
So you nod in response shakily, but Bucky only leans closer to the point where his lips brush against the shell of your ear.
"I wanna hear you say it, baby,"
You don't even try to hold it together. Tears are still wet on your cheeks as you look up at him.
"Please," your voice comes out cracking, and messy. "Please just fuck me, Bucky. I don't care anymore. I need itâ I need you. Please, justâ touch meâŠ" you pause, sobbing. "Use me, I don't care, just pleaseâ"
The rest spills out of you in a broken, pathetic rush. You truly don't care if you look like some desperate whore as long as you get to have this.
Shame and need are tangled so tightly in your heart that you cannot tell then apart anymore, making you cry harder.
You try to say something more. Explain yourself maybe, but Bucky doesn't let you.
He shuts you up by crashing his mouth against yours in a hungry kiss, cutting the rest of your pleading. There is nothing gentle about it anymore â Bucky from just a few seconds ago seems to be gone, as your tongues meet almost instantly, teeth grazing while his hand slides into your hair to hold you in place as he deepens it.
You melt into him with a shaky sound, still tasting salt from your own tears.
Bucky walks you backwards until the edge of his desk hits the back of your thighs. In one smooth motion, he lift you up onto it, stepping between your legs as he never stops to kiss you like he's starving.
You feel him begin to rock against you. It's just a slow roll of his hips that's barely there but it presses the hard line of him right against your core, and the seperating you layers of clothes are not enough stop you from gasping into his mouth.
Bucky pulls back just enough to speak, but his lips are still brushing yours.
"Just like that," he murmurs. "Let me hear you, baby."
His hand drops to the waistband of yours pants. He pops the button open, drags the zipper down, and starts working them off your hips.
You lift up to help him, already so far gone it's embarrassing. You're so worked up you can barely think straight.
"Please, BuckâŠ" you whine breathlessly as he tugs your pants the rest of the way down, and lets them drop to the floor.
"So fucking impatient," he mutters, eyes dragging down your body."Quit whining or I'll stuff that pretty mouth with my cock."
Before you can react, Bucky hooks his fingers into your panties, and yanks them roughly to the side. The cool air hits your bare, dripping cunt for half of a second, then his hand comes down in a sharp, stinging slap right against your soaked folds.
The sound is wet, and filthy. You jolt with a broken gasp, and thighs twitching around his hips as the heat of the slap blooms between your legs.
"You think you can always get what you want, don't you?" Bucky asks, voice rough.
Another slap lands harder against your pussy. You cry out this time, hips jerking.
"Pleaseâ Fuck!"
"Well that's not how things work," he continues, eyes locked on yours, carefully watching your reaction. "I've told you that before, remember? You are mine."
He raises his hand again, and slaps you one more time.
You jolt once more, and a broken sound rips out from your throat, but somehow your body reacts to it different than you'd expect. Your hips twitch towards his palm like you're chasing the next hit.
The stinging only makes the pulsing between your legs worse. Every slap seems to wind you up tighter instead of scaring you off. You're almost dizzy with how turned on it's making you, and some distant part of your brain can't believe you're actually into this.
You don't even realize when Bucky's hand move to the top you're wearing. He tugs it up, and over your head. The fabric catches for a second before he pulls it free, and tosses it aside.
His eyes drop to your chest, where your bra is, and Bucky stares at it like it offended him. Bucky's fingers are on you within seconds, touching, and grabbing your breasts through the material before the bra follows your top just as roughly â straps dragged down over your arms, until you're completely naked on his desk.
Then he's back between your thighs, gripping your hips as he starts humping against you again.
This time, there's nothing between you, and the hard bulge in his jeans. Your completely exposed, and obscurely wet slit drags against the rough fabric, leaving a dark, damp stain on the denim.
Bucky's so fucking hard it almost hurts to not feel him inside you just yet. You whimper, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you try to grind back against him.
Your hands slide down his chest, fingers already working at the edge of his T-shirt. You want to feel more of him â skin to skin, the warmth of his body pressed fully against yours.
But Bucky catches your wrists before you can get very far, pinning them lightly against the desk with a low warning sound.
"No," he mutters, jaw clenching slightly. "You don't get to decide. Is that still so hard for you to understand?"
You shake your head. Still, you manage to tug the fabric just enough to catch a glimpse of what's underneath â muscular, defined abs flexing as he keeps moving against you, and a trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
The sight only leaves your hungrier. You try again, fingertips brushing over the warm skin of his stomach, but he doesn't let you go further, keeping full control.
Bucky had clearly had enough of you not listening.
With a low, frustrated sound he pushes you back so you're fully spread out on the desk. Your shoulders touch the cold surface, and your legs stay open around him. One of Bucky's hands presses lightly on your sternum to keep you there.
"Goddamn, you're so fucking stubbornâŠ" he mutters under his nose, but loud enough for you to hear it.
He reaches down with his other hand, and finally unzips his pants. He shoves them, and his boxers down just far enough to free himself, and your breath catches at the sight.
He's thick â heavy, and flushed, and so big it makes your stomach flip. You almost drool looking at him, and your thighs tremble at the thought of feeling every inch of him stretching you.
Bucky gives himself one slow stroke as he looks down at you with dark eyes, pupils blown wide. He spreads the bead of precum over his length, then positions himself at your entrance.
The blunt head of his cock nudges against your soaked folds, and even the lightest touch is enough to make you whimper.
Bucky pushes inside you, but there's no slow stretch or careful adjustment. He drives forward in one hard thrust, and buries himself to the hilt, filling you so completely it punches the air out of you as your body is forced to take every thick inch at once.
The sudden fullness borders on too much. Your walls clench tight around him while he stays like that for a short moment, hips flush against yours.
He pulls almost all the way out, and slams back in, setting a rough, relentless pace that makes the desk creak beneath you.
You yelp at the first few thrusts, then the sound melts into loud helpless moans as he pounds into you. Every snap of his hips drives him impossibly deep, and you fucking love it.
Bucky looks completely lost in it. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are focused on the way your tits bounce with every move of his. His right hand is gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other stays planted on the desk beside your head for leverage.
"Didn't know you're such a slut," he rasps between thrusts. "Always playing so shy, but you're actually just a whore, hm?"
"Mghhhhâ" is all you manage, and the sound is punched out of you on a particularly hard thrust.
Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.
"Oh yeah? Going dumb for that cock?" he smirks. "Can't form words now? You were so open for discussion just moments ago."
You just nod frantically, because he's right, and you can't deny it.
"âs good Buckâ" you somehow moan out, although the rough pace has your thoughts scrambled.
His hand leaves your hip, and wraps around your throat instead. He doesn't squeeze it hard, but just rests his palm there while he keeps fucking into you without pausing for even a second.
Your eyes flutter shut from the intensity of it.
"Look at me," Bucky orders, and when you don't immediately obey, his fingers press tighter around your neck, making his message clear.
Your eyes snap open and lock with his.
"You're mine," he growls. "Fucking mine. I made you, and you're nothing without me. Do you understand that?"
"Yes! Yes, Buckyâ!" Your hands clutch at his forearm, as he keeps you both filled and pinned.
The pressure builds fast. Heat coils tight, and low in your belly. Your walls start to flutter around him, and you realize that you're already right there, seconds from falling apart.
Bucky notices. His grip on your throat tightens just a fraction, as he leans closer.
"Don't you fucking dare come yet," he commands. "If you come before I say you can, I'll never fuck you again."
The threat sends a helpless shiver through you. Your eyes become glassy, as you try to force the building orgasm back down even as every roll of his hips may just sent you over the edge.
You try to focus, but your eyes drop down to the place where you're connected. You see how his cock is disappearing inside you, and the subtle bulge it creates low in your tummy every time he sinks all the way in.
The sight is almost too much. You cry out, not being able to hold it much longer.
"Bucky⊠I can'tâ I can't take it, I'm gonnaâ"
"You can," he growls, grabbing your face in his hand by the jaw, and squeezing it tightly.
You look completely fucked out like this â dazed like you're high on pure ecstasy, barely holding yourself together while you tether on the edge. Your lips are parted around soft, needy sounds, and it's so difficult for you to keep your eyes open.
"Pleaseâ" you beg, voice wrecked. "I'll be good, Buck⊠I promise youâ"
Bucky laughs darkly, and the sound vibrates against your face, as he keeps fucking into you without mercy.
"Oh, I know you will."
Without warning, Bucky pulls out of you completely. The sudden emptiness makes you whine. You're confused, and your hips twitch back like they're trying to follow him.
Before you can even process the loss, he flips you over with firm hands. Your stomach hits the surface of the desk, and so does your face â checks pressed against the wood, as he plants one hand on the side of your head to keep you there.
Your hands scramble for purchase on the desk as Bucky kicks your legs apart just enough, then drives back into you, burying himself to the hilt again.
The new angle is much deeper, and overwhelming which makes you cry out, and Bucky starts fucking you in earnest. You're able to feel his balls slap against you, then a smack lands across your ass. The stinging blooms hot under his palm, leaving a red mark, and making your entire body flinch.
You're a mess beneath Bucky. Drool starts to slip from the corner of your mouth as your eyes go unfocused. Your body is already spent, trembling, and oversensitive, barely able to keep up.
Your current form seems to satisfy Bucky enough. He leans over, pressing his chest to your back.
"Go on. Come for me"
Fucking finally.
Your orgasm crashes through you so intensely it almost whites out your visison. A high-pitched moan leaves your throat as your whole body seizes around Bucky. Your walls clench while wave after wave of pleasure rips through you.
It's the best thing you've ever felt. It's more satisfying, and consuming than anything before, and it leaves you shaking, and gasping against the desk while Bucky keeps fucking you through it.
The way you clamp down around him is enough to push him over the edge too.
He drives into you one last time, and stays buried deep. A guttural groan rips from his chest as he comes.
You feel every hot pulse of him spilling inside you. Thick ropes of cum flood your cunt, and proceed to fill you up. The sensation makes another weak shiver roll through your spent body, as something primal, and satisfying settles in your chest at the feeling of being bred by him. You're more than happy to take everything he gives you, and keep it deep inside.
Bucky stays pressed against you for a moment longer, breathing hard, while his release slowly starts to leak out around his cock.
"Knew you'd come around."
.á extra sophie: if you got here, thank you so much for reading the fic! to be fair, the dynamics between reader, and Bucky in this fic were so fun to explore, and I hope I got to express well enough what I had in my mind, so let me know your thoughts about them!! and if you want to find out what drama is hiding behind the director, and the movie production, i'm more than happy to encourage you to read @iamthatonefangirl's upcoming fic "mean girls" which expands the plot of this silly little universe we created together <3
He scoffs, leaning down until his lips are inches from yours. His hands force your knees apart, slapping them open. He pins them down with his weight, settling between your legs. He unbuckles his belt fully now, the leather creaking. "Brat. You pushed and pushedâŠâ
âI wasnâtââ
He cuts you off with a sharp slap to your inner thigh. He unzips his pants, freeing himself. He grabs his dick and presses it against your panty clad pussy. He leans down, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
âI obviously wasnât gonna do anything with that guy!â You begin to backtrack, noticing how worked up you got him after he found you at the bar with some guy, dressed in skimpy clothes.
He snorts, his cock pressing insistently against your panties. He grinds against you over the panties. His eyes lock on yours, dark and unforgiving. âOh, you weren't gonna do anything?" His thumb finds your clit through the lace, pressing hard. âBut you liked every fucking second of making me jealous⊠you did that on purpose⊠little minx.â
âYouâre jealous?â You smile, glad your plan has workedâ glad he admitted it.
He pulls your panties aside with his free hand, positioning himself at your entrance. He doesn't push in, just teases you with the head of his cock. âYou're damn right I'm jealous. I'm fucking furious."
He pushes inside all the wayâno warning, no gentleness. He bottoms out in one stroke, stretching you around him. His jaw clenches, eyes rolling back for a second before they snap back to you with renewed fire. "You wanted to get under my skin, huh?" He doesn't move, just stays buried deep, letting you feel every inch of him. "Congratulations."
A mewl of his name escapes your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.
He wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing gently. His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he starts to move with deep, punishing thrusts. Each snap of his hips is a statementâa reprimand for your behavior. "You fucking love this, don't you?" He slams into you particularly hard, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. âGetting me all worked up?" His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing roughly. "Fucking brat."
âPleaseâ
"Please what?" He laughs, knowing exactly what you need but refusing to give it to you easily. "Want me to make you come?" He shifts his angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you. "Or please forgive your little stunt?"
His hand squeezes your throat, holding you in place while his hips keep their relentless rhythm. He watches your faceâthe way your lips fall open, your eyes flutter shut, your back bows off. âThere she is." He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he speeds up. He bites your shoulder, his teeth leaving a dent.
âFuckâ please please pleaseâ
His eyes snap to yours, loving the sound of you begging for him. He spreads your legs wider, lifting them up so he can get even deeper. His lips pull into a shit eating grin, his tongue wetting them as he watches you. Your dazed eyes just barely manage to focus on his face. âYou want to come, baby?"
âSo badâ You almost whine, itâs pathetic and needy.
He laughs darkly against your neck, the sound vibrating through your skin. "Then beg properly." He slows his thrusts, making them deeper, more deliberate, dragging out each stroke until you're whimpering with need. âTell me how much you want it. Tell me how sorry you are.â He rubs your clit in slow circles, teasing you mercilessly.
You manage to glare at him, eyebrows furrowing. âIm not sorryâ You retort.
He smirks, enjoying your little attitude. He pulls out completely, leaving you empty and needy. Before you can protest, he's flipping you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so you're on your knees. He slaps your ass hard, making you jump. âNot sorry? Keep that attitude up. See if I let you come." He grips your hips and slams back inside you, making you cry out. This angle hits even deeper, and you feel your body tingle. He leans over your back, his chest pressing against your spine.
He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. His other hand reaches around, fingers finding your clit again. He starts rubbing fast circles while thrusting into you roughly. Your thighs tremble, and he feels it. "There it is." He groans against your ear, feeling your walls start to flutter around him, then he stops.
âWhat the hell!â You twist your neck to look at him over your shoulder.
He smirks, watching your reactionâthe frustration, the desperation. He's teasing you mercilessly now. His cock throbs inside you, but he doesn't move, just stays perfectly still while his fingers still torture your clit. "What?" His voice is mocking, entirely too smug. "You were so confident earlier."
He chuckles darkly, finally moving his fingers again. He rubs your clit fast and hard, bringing you right to the edge before he stops again. His hips stay perfectly still inside you. "I could keep doing this all night, baby." His free hand slides up your back possessively. âAll you gotta do is say sorryâ
âJerkâ
He laughs, a full, genuine laugh against your neck. His fingers move again, rubbing your clit in slow circles. His hips start moving again too, but only shallow thrusts. He's teasing you, dragging it out. âSay you're sorry." His voice drops to a low whisper.
He sees your silence, your pout. He knows you're not going to apologize. He smirks and pulls back his hips completely. He watches your face, your body language. He knows you're not going to give in easily. He slaps your ass again, making you jump. âCome on, baby, stop being stubborn. Apologize so i can see my pretty girl come all over my cock.â
His words make your stomach and heart flutter alike, a whiny sound leaving your lips. âJusâ⊠please let me come⊠Iâm sorryâ
âThat wasnât so hard, was it?â He smiles, leaning over to kiss your cheek. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. His thumb presses against your clit with perfect pressure, rubbing in fast circles. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, tightening. âCome on, baby. Let me feel you come.â
Description: Listing out reasons why you love him.
One of the reasons...
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His body was huge like a bear, the beefiest man alive. Big arms, and even bigger dick. That drove you insane but at night he would ruin you with orgasms.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His enormous dick, it reached depths of your walls that no one did before. Always made you squirt and scream, every few days you lost your voice which made your friends question but you just smirked.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His chubby stomach, you could die while laying on him. You loved the feeling of your man being huge. Loved the way he laid on your body and made you feel things. Whenever he lays on you, you just take a deep breath and smile. No one was lucky as you.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His hands, he had enormous hands. He would grab things making everything look extremely small which always made you laugh. You loved the way he grabbed your breasts and ass cheeks, the way he fondled with them.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... This man would cum loads, he would cum buckets everyday. He was scared you'd hate him for it or leave but instead you loved it so much. You couldn't get enough of his cum, couldn't get enough of him filling you up. So with that, you'd allow him to cover you in his load.
I need me a huge beefy bucky please I cannot function without him, I just imagine him pounding and pounding while keeping in headlock and pulling our hair so our head goes back. Looking into his eyes, as he pounds and kisses.
I also know for a fact that this man would have a huge breeding kink. He would fill you up, over and over. Even after it drips out, he wouldn't finish. When he fucks, his stomach would touch your behind as you would clench down on him. Him hitting the spot would make you all cross eyed. The pain from hair pulling mixed perfectly with the pleasure.
The way you'd just cum when he guides you to ride him.
You were a couple days away from your period, and the time before your period is always hard. You get anxious, tearful, and an overall feeling of blah. Like thereâs a disconnect between your brain and your body.
When you get this way it can be hard to find comfort in anything. You just have to sift through these days with that heavy feeling on your bones.
Tonight was hardâyou felt small, weepy, and torn. You didnât want to bother Bucky, but you longed just to be with him. Ever since you two became friends, something about his presence made you feelâŠstill.
Still in the way your thoughts arenât all jumbled and racing, but clear and smooth. Still, like sitting on the beachâfeeling the wind rustle through your clothes, hearing the ocean creating white noiseâand all you do is just enjoy the present moment.
Your friendship with Bucky was not automatic by any means. He is the way he is, so of course he was guarded, closed off, constant grump face. Slowly, you chipped away at his walls. You were yourself to a fault, and Bucky couldnât help being sucked into your orbit.
He became looser around youâheâd crack a dry joke instead of just grunting in response, he let himself smile instead of pretending your jokes annoyed him.
Your bond grew over timeâsmall jokes became easy banter, smiles became full laughs. You got to see his charming goofy side, and he got to see your quiet soft side. Late night talks on the balcony overlooking the lakeâlearning about each otherâs deepest struggles, happiest memories, biggest fears.
You two became very close. Always looking out for one another, knowing when the other is feeling off. You were never bored when together, even if youâre just in the same room doing separate tasks. Sure you could annoy the crap out of each other, but youâd also be protective and caring for each other at the same moment.
On bad nights, you two would find solace in each otherâs rooms. Bucky had more of those night than you. Tonight wasnât even that badâyou just didnât want to be alone.
You wrap your favorite blanket around your shoulders, and quietly shuffle down the hallway to his room. Itâs not late, but you still knock softly just in case he could actually sleep tonight.
Bucky is propped up against his headboard reading âThe Great Gatsbyâ, heâs been trying to read the modern classics heâs missed out on. His gaze lifts to the door, immediately he knew it was your knock.
âCome in,â he calls out, lowering the book with a thumb holding his place. He can tell when you open the door you arenât feeling quite yourself.
âCan I just lay in here? I donât need to talk, just donât feel like being alone,â you ask. Holding your blanket securely around you.
âCome here,â his voice already becoming the gentle version, for when youâre like this. He sets his book on the nightstand, then lifts the covers for you to climb in.
âThank you,â you say, gently nudging the door shut, then crossing the room to your designated side of his bed. You slide under the coversânestling your head into the pillow.
âWhatâs wrong?â He asks, while he drapes your blanket on top of you.
âI just feel⊠off.â While you speak, he shifts to lie down on his side. His gaze is devoted to yoursâtrying to be see whatever you feel. âMy period is in a couple of days. You know how I can get.â You shrug.
Bucky does know how hard it can be on you sometimes. It breaks his heart seeing you like this. He tried his best to learn what helps you during this monthly depressive episode. Usually itâs just support to get through it.
âIâm sorry, doll,â he says softly. He tugs the covers further up on you, before resting his hand on your shoulder.
âIâm okay. I just wanted to be with you,â you give him a soft smile. His eyes soften even more, and his thumb begins rubbing circles over the fabric of your shirt.
âDo you want to talk about it?â He asks, no pressure in his tone, just care.
âNot really. You keep reading. Iâm just gonna sleep, if thatâs okay?â
âWhatever you need, sweetheart,â his hand gently squeezes your shoulder.
âThank you, Buck.â You already feel relief from the dark cloud that settled over you. Bucky leans over to place a kiss on your head. You huff air from your nose, and a small teasing smile pulls your lips. âDork,â you murmur as a term of endearment.
âWeirdo,â he replies as usual. Smiling softly, feeling a little better that you still have some teasing in you.
Bucky adjusts back to his sitting position, and resumes his book. He looks over at you snuggling deeper into the bed.
âThe light not gonna bother you?â He asks, voice a juxtaposition of rough and soft.
âDoesnât bother me at all. Plus, your big head is blocking it pretty well,â you tease softly, a small lazy smile pulls my mouth.
âYouâre a punk,â he huffs in amusement, shaking his head. You chuckle softly.
Every couple of minutes Bucky notices you move just a hair closer to himâa shift of your leg or subtle move of your hand. Whether youâre conscious of it or not, he doesnât know.
Bucky looks overâyouâre curled up facing him, forehead only a few inches from his elbow. He smiles softly to himself. He scoots further down the pillowsâso heâs mostly lying now. He reaches his human arm, the one closest to you, over to pull you into his side.
You crack your eyes open, when you feel his hand pressed against your back. He gives you a soft knowing smile. A sleepy smile grows on your face, then you scoot completely into his sideâhead on his shoulder, right arm draping over his torso.
He hears the content exhale as your body relaxes. He cranes his neck to see your eyes are already closed again, hints of your sleepy smile still remain. He feels his chest tighten with affection for you. He wants to wrap you up in a cocoon of blankets, hold you tight in the safety of his arms, and plant kisses all over your cute sleepy face.
Instead he just savors what he has been given. Relishes in the love he feels he doesnât deserve. He lets himself love you like this, even though he knows he could love you more. Heâll just never let himself.
His fingers tickle your back lightly, while his metal hand holds his book. Finagling with the book to turn each page without having to take his hand off of you.
After a while, he feels his eyes are getting heavier, and hears your quiet snores start against his shirt. He carefully sets his book on the nightstand, and stretches to turn off his lamp but keeps his arm around you. The movement pulls you from your slumberâ making you mumble sleepily.
âBucky?â You rasp, eyes barely cracking open. As soon as he hears your voice he goes to soothe you.
âJust turning off the light, doll.â He says softly, making you mumble incoherently. After the darkness takes over the room, he turns his body to yours, pulling you into his chest.
âGo back to sleep,â Bucky whispers, as his arms settle around you. Metal arm careful but firm over your waist, hand splayed against your back. His flesh arm is under your neck, hand cradling your head that is tucked into his chest.
âYou okay?â You mumble, voice showing you arenât really awake. The care in your voice despite being asleep makes the loving ache in his chest grow.
âAlways okay with you.â He whispers, fingers card through your hair soothingly. You hum something incoherent, and Bucky knows youâre not conscious.
As he falls asleep, he lets himself pretend heâs not afraid of loving you. He lets himself feel not like a monster, but a man who loves a woman.
âââââââââ
In the very early morning, you are awoken to the feeling of a baby alien trying to rip through your uterus, aka period cramps. You lift your head off of the pillow, which you come to realize is Buckyâs bicep.
Bucky is sound asleepâhe always sleeps better when heâs with you. That doesnât change the fact heâs been trained to be a light sleeper. Your quiet whimper pulls him right awake.
His eyes fly open to see you hunched over, eyes closed like youâre still trying to milk the last ounces of sleep in you. He sits up, placing his warm hand on your back.
âHey, whatâs wrong?â Buckyâs voice rough with sleep. You open your eyes, face turning to his.
âIâm sorry. Did I wake you?â You rasp, discomfort evident in your voice.
âWhatâs wrong?â He asks again, ignoring your concern for waking him.
âIâm cramping,â you make a small noise of pain. âMy period must be starting.â
âStay right here. Iâm going to get you something for the pain.â Bucky is on his feet, and walking out the door.
You donât want to move, but you know you need to go to the bathroom to put something on before the blood starts. With a weak groan you slide out of Buckyâs bed.
You switch on the lamp to check the sheets, just in case, even though you canât imagine anything has actually started yetâyou freeze when you see the fresh blood on his gray sheets.
âNo. No, no, no, no, no.â Tears automatically come to your eyes, panicking over what to do. You immediately start stripping the bed. Your mind is a cloudy mixture of pain, embarrassment, and sleep disrupted weepiness.
Youâve barely moved the pillows out of the way, when Bucky returns with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. You whip your head to him, putting your hands out as if that would stop him from coming closer.
âWait, stop!â You try to tell him, but heâs already making his way to you.
âHey, what are you doing?â He asks in confused worry. Setting down the glass and pills on the nightstand, so he can move grab onto you. His eyes almost frantically taking in your expression, then he looks past you to the bed. It clicks in his brain when he sees the blood on the sheets.
âOh, doll,â his voice painfully tender. You step back trying to block the bed.
âIâm so sorry. Give me a second and iâll fix it,â your voice a sad plead. His heart breaking over the look on your face.
âWhat? No. Come here,â he shushes you. He steps forward, closing the distance, and pulling you into his chest.
Your mind is too cloudy with embarrassment to stop. You try to push off of him, but he holds you tighterânot in a painful way, but in a reassuring way.
âBucky,â you cry weakly into his shirt. He shushes you, one hand stroking the back of your head.
âItâs alright, doll,â he coos. He understands why youâre upset, but this is nothing to be embarrassed over. Especially not with him.
âIâm so sorry. I didnât know I was gonna start tonight,â you sob into his chest. He feels the dampness of your tears through the fabric.
âStop it. Itâs okay,â his voice is so tender it makes you cry more. He says your name like a gentle plea.
âYou can go lay in my bed and iâll change your sheets, okay?â You hiccup, lifting your head off of him. Immediately, Bucky is shaking his head.
âAbsolutely not,â both of his hands come up to cradle your face, and make sure you listen. âHereâs what weâre gonna do. Iâm gonna take care of this while you go sit in a warm bath.â Your brow furrows in disagreement. He canât help but find it adorable. You shake your head, but before you can speak, Bucky says your name with such sure care.
âI canât let you deal with this. Itâs gross,â you try, but he just scoffs in reply.
âNothing about this is gross, you got me?â He lowers himself so heâs eye level with you. âYouâre hurting. Let me take care of you.â The sincerity in his eyes, and the stabbing pain in your uterus, makes you lose your ability to protest anymore.
âAre you sure?â You cry pitifully.
âSweetheart,â he pulls you back into his chest, âplease stop crying. Iâve got you.â He kisses your head, then rests his cheek against your hair.
You let yourself melt against him, arm finally coming up around him. Once your crying becomes a soft sniffle, he pulls back just enough to look at you. The tears made your face puffy and splotchyâit breaks his heart.
âHere,â he reaches for the glass, handing it to you. He grabs the ibuprofen, shaking some into his hand. âThat enough?â
You nod, reaching out to take the pills. Rasping a quiet, âThank you,â after swallowing them.
âAttagirl,â he praises, while taking the glass from your hands to set it down. His hands come to rest on both of your biceps. âNow, hows a bath sound?â
âYeahâŠâ you nod, âthat sounds good.â Bucky feels a sense of relief you arenât fighting him on this anymore.
âYeah?â He gives you a gentle encouraging smile. âLetâs go get you a bath then.â
Bucky guides you, carefully, down the hall to your room. You turned down his offer to carry you, cause you were worried about blood somehow getting on him.
âWhy donât you grab you some fresh clothes, while I run the bath?â He suggests. You give him a small âokayâ. You shuffle to your dresser to grab some designated period underwear, a big oversized shirt, and some gray sweatpants.
When you walk into your bathroom, you notice only some of the lights are onâcasting the room in a dim warm light. Bucky is sitting on the edge of the tub ensuring the water is not too hot. He notices you when you set your clothes on the counter. He stands up moving over to you.
âThereâs my girl,â he gives a supportive smile. If your stomach wasnât in so much pain, you wouldâve felt butterflies when he said that. âIâm gonna go change the sheets, then iâll be back to check on you.â
Your eyes tear up at the embarrassing thought of him having to change his sheets. He quickly notices and goes to shut it down.
âHey, hey, hey. None of that.â His rough yet oddly soft hand brushes away a tear from your cheek. âI just want you to feel better.â
You wrap your arms tightly around his torso. Heâs taken aback at first, then tightly hugs you back. âIâm really sorry,â you apologize again.
âStop that,â he gives you a squeeze before pulling back. âJust try to relax. Iâll be back soon,â he kisses your forehead, then leaves the bathroom.
ââââââââ
The heat of the water soothes your discomfort. Dulling the pain of your cramps. Relaxing your muscles from the tension theyâve been holding. You sink deeper into the waterâyour hair tied dryly atop your head. Probably not safe, but you almost fell asleep. A soft knock on the door made you come to.
âDoll, Iâm back. You doing okay?â Buckyâs voice comes through the door. Hearing his voice reminds you of the embarrassmentâbleeding on his bed, sobbing in his arms.
âIâm good,â you call back, cringing at yourself for simply existing.
âThe pain any better?â He asks.
âYeah, some,â you reply. You feel awkward talking through the door when youâre currently in the tub.
âGood, hopefully the meds are kicking in,â his tone indicates heâs not feeling awkward at all, he just wants to help you. âDo you need anything else?â
âIâm okay, thank you. You donât have to worry about me. You should go back to bed,â your voice sweet in way that makes Bucky frown.
âDoll, stop that,â he sighs through the door. He knows you are embarrassed, and you donât need to be alone stewing on it.
âWhat?â You say, acting like you donât know what heâs talking about.
âYou take your time, and iâll be out here when youâre done,â he says, giving you no room to argue.
âââââââââ
When you finally climb out of the tub, the pain is a dull whisper. Your muscles warm and relaxed, making your movements slow. You dry off, make sure whatever period product you use is secure, and get dressed in the fresh pajamas you set out.
Bucky stands from your bed when you exit the bathroom. His heart skips at your appearanceâshoulders hunched, baggy clothes, hair a half fallen mess tied up on your head. To him youâre so beautiful.
âBuck, you shouldnât have waited for me,â you say softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to shield your warm skin from the cool air.
âHow many times do I have to tell you I want to be here, before it gets through that hard head of yours?â He closes the distance between you, and pulls you into his arms. You let your tired self melt into his hold.
âI feel bad,â you murmur against his chest.
âEnough of that,â his flesh hand comes up to angle your face up at his. He feels unworthy to be able to touch something so soft.
âBut Buc-â you start but he shakes his head.
âNow do you want to lay in your bed or mine?â Bucky asks simply. âEither one you pick iâll be there,â he adds. Making you huff softly. That feels like a win to him.
âMy bed,â you say quietly. He smiles softly, thumb stroking your cheek once more.
âYour bed it is,â he nods. He gently guides you to lay down. He climbs in beside you, and automatically you find yourself in his arms. Youâre curl into him, hands tucking against his chest.
âIâm really sorry about everything,â you mumble quietly against him, you still feel embarrassed despite how tired you are.
âPlease stop apologizing,â Buckyâs voice just above a whisper. His metal hand cradling the back of your head, while his warm flesh hand rubs up and down your back.
âItâs so embarrassing,â you mumble sadly.
âHey, look at me,â he pulls back enough to angle your head upwards. His eyes lock onto yours, trying to get the point across. âItâs not embarrassing, especially not with me.â
âHow are you not upset?â You asks, tired lip pouting.
âHow could I be upset?,â he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief that you could even think he was upset. âI just hated it for you, so stop apologizing. Okay?â
ââŠOkay,â you exhale softly. Your eyes have a shine of love as you look up at him. âI hope you know how grateful I am for you.â
Bucky presses a soft kiss to your forehead, your eyes flutter closed. He reaches up to gently brush a stray strand from your head. He notices the slight furrow in your brow. âHeadache?â He whispers.
âNot too bad,â you open your eyes.
âLetâs get your hair down,â he hums softly. You rest your forehead against his chest, while his hands carefully unwind your hairtie. His hands so large and rough, yet so delicate with you.
Once your hair is free, Bucky slides the hairtie onto his wrist, then runs his fingers over your scalp. You felt like you couldâve purred from the touch. It released any left of tension in your body.
âThat better?â He whispers. Your hum is all the response he needed to hear. It makes a small smile grow on his lips.
He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him. You settle on top of him, as he pulls the covers higher over you.
âYou okay?â He hums.
âMhmm,â you nod against him.
Bucky keeps his flesh hand on your back and the metal one gently rubs your scalp. He knows the coolness helps with your headaches. Itâs very obvious by the way you go limp against him and start drooling on his shirt. He smiles to himself, pressing a kiss to your temple.
Summary - Bucky realizes heâs wild for you marking him and snaps completely. Rough, deep, relentless â holding your leg wide open, metal hand braced tight. You rake long red burning lines down his back, scream his name, fall apart sobbing. He follows you over the edge⊠and accidentally rips the headboard clean off. Apologizes all flustered. You? Donât. Care. Best sex of your life. đ„”đ„
Warnings - MDNI! established relationships, protected p in v, rough sex, overstimulation? power shift after mutual discovery, scratching kink, marking, pet name used (baby) accidental damage
Writerâs notes - no proof read or word count, short and sweet drabble thatâs been in my drafts forever! I appreciate you đ«¶đ»
The room was warm, only the soft glow of bedside light painting shadows across Buckyâs skin. His hands were sure, steady â careful, always careful â as they moved over you, his touch familiar and reverent. Heâd always taken his time, always checked in, always made certain you were with him every step of the way.
âYou okay?â he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough, his breath warm.
âPerfect,â you whispered, fingers tangling in his hair. âDonât stop.â
He shifted closer, deepening the kiss, his body pressing fully to yours. And then â when you gasped his name and your fingers dug gently, firmly, into his shoulders, your nails dragging lightly but clearly there, marking him â he froze.
Just for a heartbeat. His breath caught, a sharp, quiet sound escaping his throat, and his hips stuttered.
You pulled back slightly, concern flickering. âBucky? Did I hurt you?â
His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, something hungry and utterly fascinated swirling deep in the blue. He didnât pull away â instead his grip on your waist tightened, just enough to hold you exactly where you were.
âNo,â he breathed, staring at you like he was seeing something new and breathtaking. âGod, no. Do that again.â
Your nails dragged down his back then chest firm and sure â and something in him snapped. He let go of every last trace of hesitation. One hand clamped around your thigh, shoving your leg wide open, holding you exactly where he wanted you, unyielding. His metal hand curled tight into the headboard above you, grip iron-strong, and he drove into you harder, deeper than he ever had before â deliberate, relentless, hitting that perfect, deep spot again and again until your voice broke and you screamed his name, breathless and shaking.
Every stroke sent sparks up your spine, deep and overwhelming, and you clawed at his back, nails raking from the top of his shoulders all the way down in long, burning red lines, marking him raw and bright. He groaned, loud and guttural, his pace never faltering â if anything he drove harder, deeper, like the sting of your nails only made him burn hotter.
âFuckâ Buckyââ you sobbed, your body coiling tight, every nerve alight. âIâm comingâ fuck, Iâm coming!â
Your legs tried to snap shut but his hand held you firm, wide open, and you clamped down hard around him, sobbing his name over and over as the wave crashed through you, shattering every thought. He groaned your name, voice wrecked, and drove in one last time â deep, so deep â pushing as far as he could go, spilling into the condom, shuddering above you, spent and trembling.
For a moment all that filled the room was harsh, ragged breathing. Then there was a sharp, loud crack. Bucky pulled back, panting, and blinked. In his metal hand, the top rail of the wooden headboard hung broken, splintered clean off.
He stared at it, then at you, instantly sheepish, chest still heaving. âShitâ sweetheart, Iâm so sorry. I didnâtâ I didnât mean to break it.â You stared up at him, dazed, skin flushed, every inch of you still thrumming. You looked at the broken wood in his hand, then at the red, raking marks across his chestâ and laughed, breathless and light and utterly wrecked.
You reached up, brushing damp hair from his face, still trembling. âBucky⊠I donât care about the headboard. Not even a little bit.â You smiled, soft and sated and glowing. âThat was the best sex of my entire life.â
He exhaled, a shaky, relieved sound, and leaned down to kiss you â slow, tender, reverent again, even as his skin still burned where youâd marked him. âYeah?â he murmured, forehead resting against yours, rough voice warm.
You nodded, fingers tracing one of the red lines down his chest watching him shiver. âYeah. And if this is what happens when I mark youâŠâ you whispered, pulling him closer, âI think Iâm gonna be doing it a whole lot more.â
Summary: Questioning your boyfriend's super-soldier resistance gets you into both pleasurable and overwhelming trouble that you can't easily get out of.
Tags: MDNI! +18, smut, sexual content (if you are underage, do not interact with this work or I will block you), established relationship, p in v, porn without plot, Bucky aka big dick, unprotected sex, soft sex, Saying "I love you" during sex, missionary, praise, Bucky likes it when you call him by his name, nicknames, cursing, rough sex, mating press, I have no idea what the other position is called, creampie, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirt, proper use of a super soldierâs resilience, Bucky gets a little chatty during sex, reader affectionately calls Bucky "Sergeant", no Y/N. No beta reader. My native language is not English, so there may be possible mistakes.
Masterlist.
"I love you, baby... I love you so much..." Bucky whispered, his voice hoarse with lust, savoring every millimeter of resistance your pussy offered him. "You're so good at this..."
He knew his size was a challenge for you, but seeing you beneath him, writhing and moaning in that enchanting, sweet way only fueled his desire and love for you.
âI-I love you, BuckyâŠâ you replied in a trembling voice. âS-ShitâŠâ
The curse had slipped from your lips thanks to his deep, circular movements; his cock had hit that particularly good spot, making you arch your back.
âDo you like it there, doll?â
You bit your lower lip as you nodded, somewhat desperately, feeling the need to grind against him to soothe the heat and itch inside you.
Instead of thrusting, Bucky began to slide his cock with a torturously slow, sensual motion, wanting you to feel every contour of his throbbing cock.
âI could spend all day worshiping you like this.â
You let out a moan that sounded almost like a sob as your toes curled and your sweaty thighs squeezed his hips, trying to push him deeper into you. You wanted to encourage him to pick up the pace.
As he looked into your glassy eyes, he pressed his lips together to stifle a moan and shut his eyes tightly, struggling to maintain the rhythm of his hips, which were beginning to falter.
âJ-JamesâŠâ You moaned his name like a prayer.
You reached out your hand toward his face, gently caressing his cheek and feeling his stubble for a moment before tangling his hair in your fingers.
Your other hand did the same, drawing his face closer to yours to kiss him. His dark hair fell across your cheeks, tickling you as he came back to himself.
âMy sweet girlâŠâ he whispered against your lips. âSo beautiful and goodâŠâ
His metal arm slid under your hip, lifting you just enough so that his pelvis remained pressed against your clitoris while his hips kept grinding and grinding.
Buckyâs lips began to kiss your cheeks and jaw with his mouth open, and you could hear him panting and growling against your skin in that way that left no doubt he was about to come. For your part, you moaned beneath him, your hands exploring his broad back and your pussy throbbing greedily around him.
âOh, James⊠I-IâŠâ The words didnât quite come out as you let out a faint sob.
Your orgasm hit, spreading from your core to the rest of your body. It was like being in a daze, letting the pleasurable heat devour you.
Buckyâs cock throbbed against your sensitive walls, and with a deep, hoarse moan, he let himself come inside you, filling you with his warm, thick seed.
You barely felt Buckyâs weight on top of you.
You closed your eyes as you panted softly and your boyfriend buried his face in your neck, feeling his heavy breath brush against your skin.
âBaby, youâre amazing, â he murmured against your neck.
It didnât take long before you felt his kisses on your skin, brushing those spots that made you tremble beneath him and let out little giggles. But you knew his intentionsâespecially since he couldnât hide them, given how his cock remained hard inside you.
âArenât you tired yet, Sergeant?â you teased, humming playfully into his hair.
Bucky moaned against you, this time a little embarrassed that his super-soldier endurance was keeping him from reaching satisfaction so easily.
âI just need to go to the bathroom to take care of it.â
Before he could pull out of you completely, you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, holding him close to your body.
He barely stifled a moan as he slid deep inside you once more, completely sensitive because he was hard as a rock, with a red tip and dripping with pre-cum inside you.
âThat wonât be necessary because I have a tempting offer for you, Sergeant.â You spoke in that playful, seductive tone that Bucky knew so well. âIf you stay, Iâll help you with your problem however you want.â
âHoney. If doing it slowly makes you want to cry, I donât even want to imagine whatâll happen if I lose controlâŠâ
He couldnât finish his sentence as he felt the soft, playful bite on his lower lip.
âHow hard can it be to satisfy a super soldier?â you murmured against his lips.
âHoney, I donât think you canâŠâ
âI can handle it.â
You sounded far too confidentâa confidence that was on the verge of shattering.
â
The creaking of the mattress and the constant thud of the headboard against the wall echoed through the room along with your moans, sobs, and the slapping of skin.
Bucky was fucking you desperately while you moaned helplessly, your face covered in tears and your knees pressed against your shoulders.
Heâd never fucked you that wildly and roughly before; heâd really been holding back all this time and was seizing this opportunity to take you exactly as heâd been craving for months.
Buckyâs eyes darted from your tearful face to his cock sliding in and out of youâcompletely soaked with your fluids and a ring of his own cum around the base from the three previous times heâd climaxed.
âO-Oh, fuck,â he moaned, his voice breaking. âI can feel you.â
The tip of his cock had started to hit your cervix, making you roll your eyes back and sob from the new pressure.
âDo you feel that, baby? Itâs my cock kissing you.â
You weakly reached out your arm toward him, trying to push his body away from your hips because of the hypersensitivity, but instead, Bucky let go of your legs to grab your wrist, pulling you to force you to sit up for a second on the mattress while he wrapped your arm and the other one around his neck.
You whimpered as the change in position caused his cock to slide out of you, even if only by a few inches, giving you a little relief from the overwhelming pressure.
Buckyâs strong arms quickly hooked under your knees, and he stood up, lifting you with him with impressive ease.
âIâm so fucking horny for you, baby. Why do you want to run away?â he growled against your cheek as his hips thrust against yours, fucking you deep. âYou said you were going to put up with it for me.â
âB-BuckyâŠâ you squealed, your voice breaking.
Your body was trembling, and you couldnât escape his thrusts as he carried you and held you open to use you.
âSay my name, baby,â he moaned as he planted open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. âCome on, do it.â
Your toes curled as your pussy clenched tightly around him, feeling another orgasm coming.
Bucky moaned as he felt you tighten around him, and that only encouraged him not to stop.
âSay it.â
âJ-JamesâŠâ you screamed. Your fingernails dug into his back.
Your squirt drenched his entire cock and slid down Buckyâs muscular thighs until it reached the floor, which was already splattered with the juices of your orgasm.
âSo perfect,â he moaned. âMy good girl with a perfect pussy.â His tongue traced your cheek, savoring the saltiness of your tears. âIâm going to cum inside you so you know just how much I love you.â
He thrust hard one last time, staying buried deep inside you with his balls pressed against your ass as he came inside you once more and you clenched tight around him.
A muffled sound escaped you because of the intensity as your body went limp, your arms hanging limply and your back arched backward while you remained deeply united.
Still holding you tightly, he bent over you, pressing his forehead against your collarbone as he breathed heavily and his hips trembled slightly against yours, gasping at how incredibly sensitive he felt after emptying himself inside you so many times.
You both needed a few minutes before moving or speaking.
Bucky was the first to move. His steps were slow as he made his way to the bed, laying you down carefully so he could pull himself out of your swollen pussy. You both moaned at the loss.
âAre you okay, sweetheart?â he asked as he brushed damp strands of hair from your face.
His fingers gently brushed your face, and at times the coolness of the metal felt comforting against your burning body.
Slowly, you turned your gaze toward him, watching as his expression shifted from gentle and slightly concerned to one with a smug smile.
âWas it hard to please a super soldier? You look a little tired.â
You let out a snort and tried to push his face away with the palm of your hand so you wouldnât have to see him looking so proud of your current state.
âI hate you, James Buchanan Barnes.â
You didnât mean it, but he knew that hearing his full name meant trouble.
âIâm sorry, my love,â he murmured in that soft, affectionate tone he always used in situations like this.
He took your wrist again, only this time to plant a series of kisses on your skinâalmost desperate and full of regret.
âDo you need anything? Water? Food?â
You smiled weakly as you watched him jump to his feet, scanning the mess in the room for the box of tissues to clean up between your legs.
Youâd underestimated him.
Heâd made you eat every single one of your words, but all it took was for you to say his full name for all that arrogant confidence to vanish as if it had never existed.
In a matter of seconds, the man who just minutes earlier had brazenly boasted of a super-soldierâs resilience had transformed into the most attentive and concerned boyfriend in the world.
Heeyyy princess I was wondering if you could write about beefy college Bucky fucking doggy style while choking her and after finishing inside her he'd eat her out until she squirted all over his mouth
. àšà§ Ę ê° Â đđđ đđđđđ đđđđđđđđ  âč . beefy!bucky x fem!reader. minors are prohibited from interacting.
đarnings 18+ : rough sex, no use of y/n, choking, doggy style, creampie, cum eating, cunnilingus after creampie, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, possessive behavior, size kink
đȘuthorâs đ·ote : so uh⊠yeah this is straight up nasty. like biblically inaccurate âmy parents would disown meâ type nasty. beefy college bucky is out here choking you, creampie-ing you, then eating his own kids back out like itâs a five star meal đđđ
The dim light of Buckyâs off-campus apartment filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. The place smelled like him, clean sweat, faint cologne, and that underlying masculine musk that always made your knees weak. College life had been a whirlwind of late-night study sessions turning into something far more heated, and tonight was no different. Bucky Barnes, the beefy athlete with arms like tree trunks and a smirk that could melt steel, had you exactly where he wanted you.
Heâd started slow, all teasing touches and filthy promises whispered against your ear while you made out on the couch. But the tension had built like a storm. Now you were on all fours on his bed, knees sinking into the mattress, back arched deep as he knelt behind you. His massive frame loomed over your smaller one, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace. Buckyâs thick cock nudged against your slick folds, teasing, dragging up and down your dripping slit while one of his big hands gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.
âFuck, princess,â he growled, voice low and rough, laced with that Brooklyn accent that thickened when he was turned on. âLook at you. So wet already. Been thinking about this tight little pussy all damn day.â
You whimpered, pushing back against him, desperate for more. âBucky⊠please.â
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest. One hand slid up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair before he gripped your throat from behind. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel owned. His palm was huge, calloused from years of football and gym sessions, wrapping around your neck with perfect pressure. He squeezed just a little as he finally pushed in, slow at first, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open.
âOh god-â you gasped, eyes fluttering shut as he filled you completely. The stretch burned so good, his girth splitting you wide. You could feel his heavy balls resting against you, the coarse hair on his thighs brushing your skin.
âThatâs it, sweetheart. Take it all.â Buckyâs hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the room. He didnât give you time to adjust. He started thrusting, deep powerful strokes that made the bed creak beneath you. Each slam of his hips drove you forward, your breasts bouncing, nipples hard against the sheets.
His hand tightened around your throat, tilting your head back so he could lean down and growl right against your ear. âYou feel that, baby? How deep I am? This pussy was made for me. So fucking tight, squeezing my cock like you never wanna let go.â
You were already a mess, moaning loudly with every thrust. âBucky- fuck- harder-â
He obliged with a grunt, pounding into you harder. The force was relentless. He was stomping the shit out of you, hips slamming forward with bruising intensity, the sound of his pelvis smacking your ass filling the room alongside your broken cries. Sweat slicked your bodies, dripping down your back as he railed you. His free hand reached around to pinch and roll your clit, making you jolt and clench around him.
âBabygirl, youâre creaming all over me already. Such a greedy little thing,â he praised, voice strained with effort. His balls slapped against your clit with every brutal thrust. The pressure on your throat made everything sharper, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming. Stars danced behind your eyelids as he choked you just right, controlling your breath, making you lightheaded in the best way.
You were mewing, actual pathetic little mewls spilling from your lips as he destroyed you. âAh-ahh- Bucky! Iâm- fuck- Iâm so close-â
âNot yet, princess,â he snarled, slowing his thrusts just enough to torture you, grinding deep and circling his hips. The head of his cock rubbed against that perfect spot inside you over and over. âYouâre gonna cum when I say. Gonna fill this pussy first.â
He kept you right on the edge, choking you tighter when you tried to chase your orgasm, then loosening just enough for you to gasp for air. His body was a wall of muscle behind you, broad chest pressed to your back, abs flexing with every powerful snap of his hips. The scent of sex was thick in the air, your arousal coating his thighs and dripping down yours.
Finally, he let go of your restraint. âCum for me, baby. Milk my cock like the good little slut you are.â
You shattered. Your walls clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing wildly as your orgasm ripped through you. Bucky groaned loud, hips stuttering before he buried himself deep and came with a guttural roar. Thick ropes of hot cum flooded your pussy, pulse after pulse as he emptied himself inside you. He kept thrusting through it, pushing his seed deeper, making sure you took every drop.
âFuck yes⊠good girl. Taking my load so perfectly, princess.â
You stayed locked together for a long moment, both panting. Buckyâs hand loosened on your throat, sliding down to stroke your back almost tenderly. But he wasnât done. Not even close. He pulled out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum leaked from your swollen, abused hole.
You collapsed onto your stomach, trembling, trying to catch your breath. But Bucky flipped you onto your back with ease, his massive hands spreading your thighs wide. He settled between them, staring down at your dripping, creamy pussy with hunger in his eyes.
âWait- Bucky, no,â you protested weakly, cheeks burning as you tried to close your legs. The overstimulation made you sensitive, and the thought of him going down after heâd just finished inside you made you squirm. âThatâs⊠thatâs icky.â
Bucky paused, eyebrows shooting up. A wicked grin spread across his face. âWhat did you just say, babygirl?â
You bit your lip, voice small. âIcky. Itâs⊠itâs nasty, Bucky. You just came in me. You donât have to-â
âFuck you mean nasty?â he interrupted, voice dropping to that dangerous, dominant tone that made your stomach flip. He grabbed your thighs harder, shoving them further apart and pinning them down with his broad shoulders. âYou think I give a single fuck about that? This pussy is mine. Every fucking inch of it. My cum dripping out of you? Thatâs the hottest shit Iâve ever seen, baby.â
âBucky- ah!â Your words cut off in a sharp cry as he dove in without warning.
His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard while his tongue swirled around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. The taste of your combined release didnât deter him one bit, in fact it seemed to drive him wild. He licked broad stripes up your slit, lapping up his own cum mixed with your juices like it was the best thing heâd ever tasted.
âFuck, princess. You taste so goddamn good. Sweet and creamy and all mine.â His voice was muffled against your folds, but the words were clear. He devoured you, no mercy. His tongue fucked into your entrance, scooping out more of his cum before he swallowed it down and went back to your clit.
You were thrashing, hands flying to his hair, half trying to push him away, half pulling him closer. âBucky- oh my god- itâs too much! I canât- fuck-â
âYou can and you will,â he growled, the vibrations making your hips buck. One of his thick fingers pushed inside you, curling right against your g-spot while he sucked your clit relentlessly. His other arm wrapped around your thigh, holding you open as you squirmed. The wet, obscene sounds of him eating you out filled the room, slurping, licking, moaning like a starving man.
Tension coiled tight in your belly again, faster than you expected. The overstimulation blended with fresh pleasure, building higher and higher. He added a second finger, pumping them in and out in time with his tongue.
âLook at you, whining like a little kitten,â he teased between licks, his chin and lips shiny with your mess. âThought you said this was nasty? Now youâre grinding on my face like you canât get enough, babygirl.â
âI- I didnât- Bucky please- â Your protests dissolved into broken moans. You were a complete mess, thighs shaking around his head, fingers yanking his hair as he stomped you with his mouth the same way he had with his cock, ruthless, relentless, perfect.
He doubled down, sucking your clit hard and curling his fingers just right. âCum again, princess. Squirt all over my mouth. Give it to me.â
Your whole body seized, back arching off the bed as you screamed his name. Liquid gushed out of you, soaking his face, his tongue, dripping down his chin and onto the sheets. He didnât stop, didnât even pull back. He drank it all down, moaning loudly as you squirted again and again, flooding his eager mouth.
âFuck yes, babygirl. Thatâs my good girl. So fucking pretty when you squirt for me.â
He kept licking you through the aftershocks, gentler now but still thorough, until you were twitching and whimpering, completely spent. Only then did he crawl up your body, pulling you into his strong arms. His face was slick, lips swollen, but he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourselves on his tongue.
âYouâre never calling my pussy nasty again,â he murmured against your lips, voice full of dark amusement. âUnderstand, babygirl?â
You nodded weakly, curling into his chest with a shy, satisfied smile. âYes, Bucky.â
âGood princess.â He stroked your hair, holding you close as your heartbeats slowly synced. âWeâre just getting started tonight.â
Backstory ~ You spend the whole night teasing Bucky at a party, and he was going to make you pay for it.
Warnings/tags ~ MDNI, 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT, porn with no plot, dom bucky, use of handcuffs, aggressive throat fucking, angry Bucky, face sitting, established relationship, multiple orgasms, mentions of saliva ( no, he's not spitting in her mouth ), very slight nipple play, slight spanking.
Word count ~ 1,375
A/N ~ This is so I can get better at smut guys I needed to try a different approach... lmk how good this is because I haven't got a clue.
Bucky's hold on your head was impenetrable, his cock buried deep in your throat. You don't remember how you got in this position, but you certainly weren't complaining. He thrusted into your mouth rough, animalistic groans erupted from deep inside his chest. You struggled to keep your eyes open as he brutally used your mouth. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and your neck; tears running down your face.
"Aw, can't handle it can you?" he cooed, but his tone was aggressive despite himself.
You could only make muffled gurgle noise, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He ripped you from his member, giving you a chance to breathe. You coughed as you caught your breath, heaving as Bucky stood over you; tall and absolutely dominating.
A wicked smile flashed across his face, he pulled you to your feet. His slender fingers wrapping around your throat, not tight enough to hurt you, but tight enough for you to feel it. He wrapped an arm around your waist, metal arm cool against your searing skin.
"You're gonna ride my face."
You nodded, unable to speak in such a moment. He climbed on the bed, laying back. You made your way over to him, a slight shake in your legs; body filled with pure lust and need. You loved when Bucky got like this, so angry and impossibly sexy.
You settled above his face, bracing yourself on the headboard. He impatiently slammed your heat down onto his face, hands gripping your thighs. He wasted no time working you with his mouth, tongue gliding effortlessly around your throbbing core. He sucked and flicked on your clit, spelling his name in messy scripture.
You were a whimpering mess, knuckles turning white as you tightly held onto the headboard; as if it were the only thing keeping you stable. He groaned, the noise sending waves of pleasure shooting up your spine.
"Fuck, B-Buck, you're making me feel so good." you sang his name like a prayer.
You could feel him chucked against you, his tongue nudging your entrance. You could feel your orgasm building embarrassingly fast, your hips starting to move on their own.
"I'm gonna-oh fuck-'m gonna cum" your noises bounced off the walls, loud enough to wake everyone in the neighborhood.
He gripped your thighs harder, signaling you to cum on his tongue. You didn't think twice, coming undone on top of him seconds later. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, legs squeezing around his head.
You came down from your high, shakily climbing off of him. He sat up, scooting off the bed.
"You stay right here, I'm not done with you yet."
His words sounded like a threat. He walked into the closet, coming out moments later holding a pair of fluffy purple handcuffs.
"W-Wait, Bucky I wanna touch you, that's not fair."
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
"You think you get to touch me after the performance you put on tonight?"
You stayed silent, already accepting defeat.
"Hands." he said, you obliged.
He clasped one cuff around your waist, placing the chain over the headboard before clasping the other one. You desperately tugged at your restraints, a helpless whine leaving your mouth. He grinned, content.
He positioned you in a mating press, hands holding you in place. You were soaked from your previous orgasm, your pussy glistening with your own slick. So much so, that some of it dripped down to your ass.
He glided his tip up and down between your folds. He slid in without warning, your walls fluttering as he bottomed out. You had been with him for a long time, yet you still reacted the same way every time he slid in.
His thrusts were ruthless, his tip hitting that spongey spot inside you with each one. The room was filled with sloppy wet noises and reeked of pure sex.
He groaned as he filled you up, unable to contain himself when you felt so good.
"Feel so good." he praised, head falling back.
You moaned in response, unable to process your own thoughts. Every word you tried to speak came out a jumbled, whimpering mess. You were in bliss, practically seeing stars. He mumbled condescending praise as he fucked you senseless, letting out a deep chuckle.
"m' fucking you silly, can't even comprehend what-shit-m' saying to you."
Drool ran down your cheek, your lip tucked between your teeth; biting down hard enough to draw blood. He palmed your breast, pinching at your nipple. Electricity pulsed through your veins with how much pleasure you were feeling.
His other hand made it's way between your bodies, massaging your swollen clit. You could feel him everywhere, clouding your senses. Your second orgasm was building up, more intense than the first.
"Can feel you squeezing me baby, must be close again." he smirked.
You nodded your head weakly, another whine escaping. He was getting close too, you could feel it in the way his thrusts grew sloppy, and his cock throbbed angrily inside you. But never in a million years would he cum before his woman.
"Go on, cum for me pretty girl."
He kissed you deep, savoring every second of it.
Your orgasm crashed over you.
"Bucky, oh my g-" you moaned against his lips.
Your legs were shaking once again. His thrusts were hard and deep as he came, pumping thick, white ropes inside of you; filling you up.
However, his relentless movements didn't stop. He continued to slam into you. Your juices were mixing together, coating his dick and oozing out of your hole. He wasn't going to let you off the hook so easily, not after just two orgasms. You didn't have time to recover, practically screaming his name out in broken english. You were being reduced to mush.
"Just one more, I know y' can do it." he groaned, "After all you did today, y' should be lucky I'm not having you do four."
He smirked at your state, absolutely fucked out; but so beautiful. He pulled out, flipping you over. The handcuffs dug into your wrists.
"M' gonna take them off of you, but you aren't to touch me till we're finished, understood?"
"Y-Yes sir." you hiccuped.
He unclasped the cuffs, your arms falling lip on the bed at the loss of support. You arched into him, on full display. A harsh slap landed on your ass, then another, then another. You winced at the pain, tears brimming your eyes.
He slid back into you, hands wrapped around waist; guiding your hips back to match his pace.
"Oh fuck, just so perfect." he whimpered, pounding into you harshly.
He occasionally slapped your ass, you were sure you were going to feel it tomorrow morning.
You gripped the blankets, digging your head into the mattress, moans muffled.
"Aht aht, let me hear you." he growled.
You lifted your head, using all your strength to do so. Having sex with a super soldier was no fucking joke.
You pathetically tried to push back into him, your body weak and completely exhausted. He cooed at your attempt, rubbing soft circled on your waist.
You could feel your third orgasm building, so ferocious that you started crying. Sobs tore from your throat, you clenched around his cock.
"You can do it, one more for me."
His words were soothing but his movements were unforgiving. He felt himself getting pushed over the edge once more, a slight stutter in his thrusts.
"Bucky!" you sobbed, a strong sensation washing over your burning body. Goosebumps rose from your skin, thighs trembling.
He came inside you again, hot cum spurted from his tip; coating your sticky walls.
His thrusts gradually slowed, the both of you catching your breath.
It was a long moment of comfortable silence as you both came down from your highs, heart beats slowing to a normal rate. He carefully pulled out of you, your body collapsing on the mattress.
"M' tired." you said, unable to open your eyes.
"I'll clean you up, don't worry." he smiled. His voice soft, stripped of the aggressiveness that it had been moments ago.
He placed a kiss on your cheek, lulling you to sleep.
A/N ~ I wanted to write for someone else to try and see if I could write smut correctly so forgive me y'all. I'll be writing about my other husband soon enough I promise I'm not sure if it should be a smut or a fluff tho so stay tuned for tht.
pairing: Dean Bucky Barnes x Professor!Reader
wc: +3.8k
summary: Dean Barnes had gone into hiding mode weeks after magical weeks together. Curiosity and resentment led you to confront him â nonetheless, you weren't expecting that he was hiding his salt-and-pepper hair. Time to show him you love him no matter what.
warnings/tags: College/University AU, Dean Bucky Barnes, established relationship, no use of y/n, smut, coworkers, miscommunication, insecurity, bucky has salt and pepper hair, desk sex, oral sex, overstimulation, accidental love confessions, choking kink, praise kink, p in v, breeding kink, crossposted on ao3, english is not my first language.
a/n: Part of Midterms & Metal Arms A College AU Marathon. Beta read by @buckysdecaflove, @w1nter-fairy, and @kileyking.
The campus was still buzzing with life, people chattering around the halls, some students had found their spot under the shadow of the trees outside, others, including the academic staff, were on their way out, excited to continue their plans for the night, either going out or just waiting to get home and relax.
The first day of the semester had just ended, and people were catching up from the break, finding their friends as soon as their schedules allowed it.
In hindsight, you should be doing the same. Your day had been packed with lectures, and being part of the welcoming of new students meant you were busier than ever. Being a professor also meant you had paperwork to do between all of that, leaving you with only a brief lunch and quick visits to the bathroom while the classroom filled.
You were tired, yearning for a bath and a cup of wine to decompress, preferably while being in your boyfriendâs arms â but you had a very important thing to do before that.
Students and other professors tried to intercept you, calling you to start some conversation; on any other day and under other circumstances, you might have given in, at least for a short exchange before continuing your way. But not today, no â today, you were on your way to confront your boyfriend, and just a curt nod of acknowledgment could be given to the rest.
The tension with Dean Barnes, or Bucky, as he told you to call him the day you met, which had been building up since he started working at the campus, first as a fellow professor and later as Dean, had finally snapped right before last semester ended. He had stopped by your office once the day ended, with the excuse of congratulating you on a wonderful semester. Students had been saying wonderful things about you, and he, as the Dean, had the task of asking you to extend your contract, which was expiring the following year.
Between his praises of your work, there was something else laced in his sweet words, a raw devotion, a need to feel you close and never let you go. It didn't take long for what had started as a routine meeting to end up with him fucking you on your officeâs couch.
You had thought it was only a one-time thing, but as you dressed up, he had surprised you by inviting you to dinner. From there, it became rare not to be with him. You went out on dates, learned who you were outside the campus perimeter, and as the weeks progressed, you began spending more nights at his place than at yours.
All that intoxicating proximity made the current situation sting more. You had last seen him in person three weeks ago; he had gone on vacation with his family, a trip that had been planned months ago, and even when he had asked you to join him, you had refused to, arguing that you had to go back to your hometown too.
The day before his trip, he had taken you to dinner and had asked you to formalize your relationship. After saying yes, you ended up in your apartment, tangled in your sheets and moaning each other's name. You had woken up alone the next morning, and the spot at your side was still warm, the sheets still smelled of his cologne and natural scent, making you giggle and blush as your heart fluttered at the memory of his company.
During his vacations, at first, there had been frequent video calls at any chance both could, texts, and selfies â tons of selfies and video messages of "how I wish you were here.â He had come back before you by a few days, a mere week ago, and before that, he had been persistent in promising dates for the moment you returned.
The thing was, those plans never happened, the video calls got ignored, and in turn he waited for you to hang up the video calls to call you back or text you. Each time you brought up the topic of meeting again in person, he deflected. You had delayed appearing in his apartment unannounced since you had convinced yourself that you weren't that desperate.
Well, now you were, because Dean Barnes had decided to lock himself up in his office since he arrived on campus, reducing each meeting with the personnel to emails, and those that couldn't be an email got rescheduled.
The voice inside your mind kept telling you that he was avoiding you, that, after the time apart, he had probably realized having a relationship with you wasn't what he wanted, that it was unprofessional, or that you had moved too fast.
Maybe he just didn't know how to break things with you.
Lucky for him, you were fuming, and if he wanted a breakup, you would rip the band-aid for him. You were old enough; you would survive another broken heart. You didn't have time for tiptoeing around it.
The text messages that you received as soon as your last lecture ended still burned behind your eyelids with every blink you made.
Bucky
Iâm sorry that I couldn't see you today, baby.
Raincheck for our dinner tonight? Hopefully, I can see you the day after tomorrow.
The rhythmic sharp click-clack of your heels hitting the wooden floors announced your arrival in the administrative wing.
âIs Barnes in his office?â You asked Samira, his secretary, the moment you got across to her desk.
She looked at you wide-eyed, her hand reaching for the planner automatically, even though she was ready to leave for the day. âHe asked no meetings today; I can help you schedule oneââ She offered, opening the notebook while struggling to keep her bag over her shoulder.
You placed your hand over the almost filled pages.
âSamira, I like you; it is not my intention to be a bitch. But I need to see him now, regardless of what orders he may have given you. So, is he or not there?â You said, with a tone that could freeze hell.
She gulped and glanced back at the closed door.
After a beat, she pulled back the planner and closed it, then she leaned over the desk. âMy shift ended a few minutes ago. Just don't tell him I let you get in,â she whispered.
You smiled at her. âOf course.â
She quickly gathered her things and left, leaving the planner back in its place. You waited a beat, and only when she wasn't in earshot did you try to open Buckyâs door, finding it locked, not to your surprise.
The message was loud and clear: Leave me alone, do not disturb.
âSamira, whatever it is, leave it on your desk. Iâll check it later,â his voice was muffled by the thick door.
You knocked.
The intercom on Samiraâs desk buzzed.
âThe day is over. Go home, Iâll check it tomorrow morning.â
You rolled your eyes and knocked more insistently.
His groan was loud enough to be heard from your spot. Inside, he got up and unlocked the door, and then he opened it slightly.
âWhat is it? If it's a file, give it.â He extended his hand out of the door, his face and body hiding behind the wood.
You didn't reply; instead, you put your foot blocking the door so he couldn't close it, and then you pushed.
He yelped a curse, almost tripping backwards.
âBarnes, why the fuck are you avoiding ââ You said with a sharp tone, but the moment you saw him, you froze. âme?â You finished your question with a whisper.
Bucky cursed under his breath and attempted to close the door.
âJames!â You exclaimed.
He groaned and then took a few steps behind so you could enter the office, then he locked the door behind you.
âLook at me.â You said.
He hung his head low, avoiding your eyes. When he didn't look up, you approached, cupping his face so he couldn't hide from you. He automatically brought his hands up, resting them over your hips.
âYou weren't supposed to see me like this.â His voice was barely above a whisper.
He had his eyes closed, visibly ashamed.
âWhy?â
He huffed, âIsnât it obvious?â
Your fingertips brushed the stubble on his jaw.
Bucky looked different. You could give him that.
But it wasn't bad; in fact, the heat building in your belly was a testament to how good he looked.
His hair, usually dark as night, had streaks of silver. His jawline was covered in salt and pepper. Bucky Barnes was a man who took care of himself, always with a pristine look, but now his signature dark hair was missing.
âI missed my appointment to dye my hair. I could do it by myself, but I don't trust it after the last time I did it, and I made my hair all patchy. I've been trying to reschedule since I got back, hopefully tomorrow ââ He explained, avoiding your eyes in embarrassment.
Your eyes kept scanning him, looking at him in awe at his handsomeness, not so slightly offended that he was gatekeeping this version of him.
âBucky Barnes, youâre perfect.â You muttered, interrupting his ramble.
He huffed. âDonât make me laugh, sweetheart.â
âI mean itâŠâ You bit your lip as your fingers traced the path of his white hair. âI, really, really like it.â
He looked at you for an instant. Caughting the way your lips were slightly parted, and your pupils dilated.
âIs that so, sweetheart?â He dared to smirk. He took a step forward, making you tilt your head back to meet his eyes. âIs it doing things to you?â
âYes.â The truth slipped out of your lips in a single breath.
âThen show me.â
Your hands found their place in the back of his head, pulling him down to meet your lips. The kiss was hungry and demanding. He walked you backwards until you were sitting on his desk.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling slightly as he kissed you with intensity. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you close to the edge of the desk, bucking his hips for you to part your legs and make room for him.
Weeks of not being close to each other suddenly weighed heavily on you, as if you had been in the middle of a drought and the only water source was him, right now, finally within arm's reach.
Bucky cupped your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumb, and turned your face to get more access to your neck. You let out a whimper, arching your back into him, and pressing his head closer with your grip in his hair.
âI gather that you do like it.â He mumbled with his breathing ragged.
âI love it. I wanna ââ you cut yourself off, blinking the haze of lust that almost made you spill out the thought that had been consuming your mind as soon as you landed your eyes on him when he opened the door.
âWhat do you want, baby?â He urged, continuing his work on your neck. Being the little shit he was, his hand was already making its way under your skirt, nibbling your neck when his fingertips reached your wet panties.
âFuck, youâreâ ah, not playing fair.â You said, opening your legs even more, and forcing the fabric of your skirt to roll up.
âThatâs boring.â You heard the evil grin he had against your neck. âTell me, darling.â
You gasped as he pushed your panties to the side. His fingers were gliding over your slit, teasing you and making you squirm.
âTell me what got you this wet.â He pushed one finger in, making you groan and lean your head back.
âI was thinking,â you rolled your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers, âin you, eating me out and â ah, getting your beard all, fuck, don't stop.â You whimpered when he added another thick finger.
âWet?â He completed.
You nodded enthusiastically.
He kissed the corner of your mouth, anticipating the offended gasp that left you when he pulled his fingers away.
âBucky!â
He raised his fingers to guide them to his mouth, and he hummed in delight at your taste.
âYour wishes are my command.â He said.
In a beat, your skirt was on the floor, and your panties followed. He sat you back on his desk, and knelt between your thighs, holding you open with his broad shoulders.
âGod, how I missed this pussy.â He muttered against your core, kissing your thighs. âDo you think she missed me?â
âBucky!â You urged him.
âShh, Iâm talking with her.â
He licked a strip over your slit, fascinated by the way your body reacted.
You moaned his name, your hands going back to his hair to keep him attached to your core. He flattened his tongue, lapping between your folds, every movement making his nose friction with your clit.
âOh, fuck.â You threw your head back, pressing your thighs around his head when he shifted his attention to your clit, sucking and lapping at it. âFuck, baby, keep doing that.â
He looked up at the mess you were, eyebrows furrowed with determination to make you come.
You rocked your hips again, until he braced one of his arms up, one palm landed on your middle to stop you from moving, while the other palmed your breast over your dress shirt.
âBucky, Bucky,â you pulled his hair, but he just buried himself even further into you. âIâm â oh, fuck, Bucky, stop itâs too much.â
He was relentless, eating you out until your legs started shaking, clamping around his head as you came all over his face.
He helped you ride out your orgasm, drinking your juices as it was sweet nectar.
âWell, did I meet your expectations?â He said, standing to his full height.
His lower face shone with the evidence of his actions.
âWay better.â You said, pulling his tie and kissing him.
âTurn around.â He mumbled against your lips, while his hands worked on getting his belt undone.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
Noticing your stare, he stopped his actions. âWait. You don't want ââ
âI know what you're trying to do.â You interrupted him.
Bucky said your name.
âDonât hide from me.â You reached your hand to touch his jaw. âI want to see you.â
âSweetheartââ
âDonât you get it? I like how you look. I didnât suddenly stop loving you because you have some gray hairs like everyone else at our age can have. It's natural.â
He raised his eyebrows.
âWhy are you â shit.â You squeezed your eyes shut, registering what you had said. âIâm sorry, forget I said anything.â You attempted to push him away from you to get off the desk, but he didn't budge.
He pushed his hips forward, keeping your legs open, and cupped your face to return your eyes to him.
âWhose hiding now?â He attempted to joke, but when you didn't lift your eyes, he leaned in, bending his knees slightly to meet your eyes. âHey, look at me.â He asked, softening his voice.
When you met his eyes, you noticed his grin and the lovely crowâs feet on the corners of his eyes, which always made your heart melt.
âThereâs my girl.â His grin even got wider. âWanna know a secret? I love you, too.â
Your breath hitched.
âYouâre not saying that to make me feel good, right?â
âIâll always try to say things that make you feel good, but Iâll never lie to you if that's what you're implying. I think Iâve loved you since you gave me that tour around the campus when I first started working here.â He confessed.
âI knew I loved you since that day that you took me to my house after my car broke down, then you offered to bring me here every morning while they fixed it.â You smiled softly. âAnd I loved you even more when I found out that you lived on the other side of the city, nowhere close to my place and definitely not âon your wayâ like you made me believe.â
âI had to make sure you wouldnât deny my help. That week was the best of my life because I got to start my day hearing your voice and your laugh.â
Tears gathered in your eyes.
âI can say the same.â
âYou really like how I look?â He asked again, letting you hear the hesitation in his voice.
âI love it.â Your fingers traveled to the silver patch that was near his temple. âI get it if you want to dye your hair tomorrow; if that makes you feel good about yourself, I won't oppose. But I need you to understand that there is no need to hide from me. I love you, and I love you with or without gray hairs.â
He exhaled.
âI love you,â Bucky said before leaning in and kissing you.
The kiss at first was tender, a way of sharing your feelings without a word; inevitably, the kiss became hungry, with a burning passion that came from deep in your hearts. Without breaking the kiss, you sneaked your hands from his chest to his belt, continuing where he had left off.
Once his cock was free, you jerked him off, smearing the beads of precum he had started leaking since before he got his mouth on you. With practiced ease, he guided himself between your legs, not forgetting to tease you by collecting your slick by sliding his tip between your folds, nudging at your clit for a beat.
âFuck, Bucky.â You cursed, clawing his shoulders at the overwhelming feeling of him stretching you.
âDo you need me to stop?â He asked, scanning your face.
You shook your head. âKeep going, just slow.â
He nodded and kissed your cheek. âIf you need to stop, just tell me, and I will.â
âI know.â You said with a smile.
He continued his work on you, slightly pushing in and then pulling back a little with shallow strokes until he was buried to the hilt inside you.
"Fuck, baby, you're taking me so good." He mumbled, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he began rocking his hips, your inner walls welcoming him with a warm and tight grip.
You moaned his name, leaning back in the desk, over the several files he had scattered there. Poor Samira, she was going to need to print several files again.
âHarder, baby.â You whined, reaching your hand over your head to steady yourself. âMmm, yes, right â fuck, there.â He kept his eyes between your legs, watching himself disappear inside you.
You maintained your heavy-lidded eyes on him, mouth slightly open as you panted and whimpered with each stroke.
Bucky sensed your stare, and when he glanced at you, his cock twitched inside you at the sight. He leaned in, in search of your mouth, kissing you as you began bucking your hips to meet him. During the kiss, his left hand snuck along your body until it rested on your neck.
When he pulled back from the kiss, standing on his feet as he fucked you, he kept his metal hand on your neck, with his thick fingers keeping a tight hold on you, pressuring enough for you to feel delirious, sharpening the feeling of drag of his cock inside you with you at his mercy.
At first, your other hand had moved to his forearm, digging your nails into his skin, holding his arm so he kept choking you.
âTouch yourself, baby. I wanna see you playing with your pretty pussy, make yourself feel good.â He groaned.
You complied.
You gave his forearm another squeeze, a silent petition to keep his hand there, and then you moved your hand to your clit.
âOh, God.â Your legs clamped around him, back arching as your fingers pushed you closer to the edge of your orgasm.
âFuck, I can feel you squeezing me.â He tightened his hold on your neck for a second, making you gasp. âI need to pull out.â
You shook your head, or well, tried to, locking your feet behind him.
âSweetheart.â He growled.
âInside, fill me, please.â You begged with your voice strained.
âFuck, honey, do you really want me to fill you?â He made sure to grind between each stroke, dragging his tip deliciously against your sweet spot.
He pressed his palm over your tummy. âDo you want me to knock you up? Put a baby in here so everyone knows youâre mine?â
âBuckyâŠâ
âOh, youâd like that. I can feel you trying to milk me, squeezing me so good.â
âCan IâŠâ
âYes, baby, yes. Come for me, be my good girl.â
Your body went taut, legs trembling as you came. You had to let go of your clit to hold on to his forearm, squirming under him with each wave of pleasure.
He followed quickly behind, pumping his cum inside you as he came, flooding you and making your inner thighs feel sticky with your slick and his cum that overflowed around his cock.
He leaned in, kissing you and then resting his forehead on your clothed chest. You let go of the desk and buried your hand in his hair.
âCan you ââ you took a deep breath, âCan you at least move your appointment to next week? You hid this from me for too long; you owe me.â You negotiated.
You felt him shaking against you with laughter. He tilted his head up, resting his chin over your chest.
âIâll think about it.â He said, but the way he looked at you told you differently.
âGood.â You smiled, satisfied.
âYou really love this look on me?â
âOf course I do. Give me five, and I can show you how much again.â
He snorted, âYouâre a menace.â
âWell, this menace is going to make you save up a few dollars because I know hair dye can be expensive.â
âI love you.â He muttered over your lips.
âI love you more.â You said with a smile. âEven if this salt and pepper look becomes a silver fox.â You clenched around him. âFuck, you would look so good.â
He raised an eyebrow. âYou really think so?â
You nodded, biting your lip as you imagined him with more prominent silver-gray hair.
âWe will see, baby.â He kissed you again. âOne week, and then Iâm dying it.â
You pouted.
âFine,â you groaned, even if that had been your first petition. âBut stop hiding from me, promise?â
âPromise. No more hiding.â
âGood.â You threaded your fingers into his curls, pulling slightly and making him moan. âNow, let me show you how much I missed you, okay?â
He nodded with your hand still in his hair. You pulled him to you and began rocking your hips from under him, fucking yourself with his cock.
If one orgasm earned you a week with his salt-and-pepper look, you were determined to convince him to extend that period â no matter how many orgasms it would take, either way, you were gonna enjoy every second of each attempt.
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A quick fluffy, spicy, crackdrabble with Bucky discovering make up sex, trying to cause tiny little arguments under the guise of needing make up afterwards. He's just doing anything and everything at this point so he can participate but it's a lot harder than it looks. He'll try his hardest though.
Like eating the last of your favourite cookie (and by last, he really just took a bite and then asked if you wanted to rest). Unfortunately for him, you didn't bat an eye, too sweet and loving, just adding it to the grocery list for next time.
Or bumping into you while you're in the middle of making dinner, just being a large nuisance in the kitchen making it hard for you to do anything (he didn't actually want to be a nuisance, that would be rude, so all he did was linger at the edge of the kitchen island, helping cut vegetables).
He'd try talking in the middle of the movie (that would be annoying, so he stayed quiet).
Nothing was working so far.
He'd have to play dirty.
Do the laundry but hide one sock so you think it's missing.
"Bucky, did you see my other sock when you took the clothes out of the dryer?" You held a fluffy one up for him to see, not noticing his eyes light up with joy. He can hardly contain his excitement, you noticed, the bait worked.
Of course you noticed the missing sock but how could he say no to your cute little face, he didn't want one of your feet to be cold (as if you didn't have 100 other pairs). His body moves before his mouth, pulling out your sock from his jean pocket. He's up and off planning a new idea before you can ask why the hell he had it in his pocket in the first place.
His next idea is as diabolical.
Borderline unacceptable.
He decides to forget a grocery item on purpose. Well maybe not forget. Definitely screw up though. You asked for plums. 5 to be exact. He decides to buy 7. He's very content with himself as he hauls the bags in, watching you take everything out.
"By the way, I forgot you asked for five plums"
"That's okay, I can grab them tomorrow-" You shrug, frowning when you see a full bag of them, "wait, you got them"
"Yeah, I got two more than you asked for" That'll do it. This is it. "Guess I'll have to go back and return them" He makes a show of huffing and puffing, hoping to pull you back to the non issue you've clearly moved on from.
"It's fine Buck, we can just eat them and the rest I can use for the pie"
"Aren't you mad?" What he did was such an inconvenience, buying two whole extra of his favourite fruit.
"No?" Your face twists in confusion while Bucky shuffles on his feet.
"But I messed up!" He's really grasping at straws now while you stop unpacking the groceries to look at your slightly unhinged boyfriend,
"and we need to make up!â he pouted at your amused expression.
âWhy do we need to make up-
"And have make up sex!"
"Huh"
âCâmon y/n, weâre still in the middle of fighting!â
"Is this why you've been acting so strangely this past week, you goof" You shake your head, cupping his scruffy cheeks in your hand while he shrugs. "I thought it was weird you ate the last cookie, you don't even like those"
"I'm terrible at this" Bucky says with a pout, disappointed in his ability to ignite your wrath, to lay a path of destruction and repair it with the power of his cock-
You sighed. Dork.
"Alright" Your boyfriends pitiful face got the best of you, his cheeks pink, twitching fingers eager to hold you close one way or another. "C'mon big guy, make it up to me" You bit back a giggle, yelping when you were tossed over his shoulder mere seconds later.
"Gonna make it up to your gorgeous" He grins from ear to ear thinking about all the things he's ready to be sorry for, "Starting with the cookies"
summary Bucky loves to take care of you; not just outside but in bed too. He takes his sweet time making sure you feel comfortable and completely devoted to. It's only fair you let him feel special too.
warnings mdni; explicit content; soft!bucky; body worship; oral (m!receiving); pwp; very soft; slow romance; care; nicknames; barely rough; mentions of unprotected sex; a little fluff?; i don't know how to tag
author's note I always read such feral Bucky fics, and yet I'm unable to write anything but soft bucky. lol. anyways, I also found all Bucky worshipping reader fics, so well, here is Bucky getting what he deserves too.
I'm always open to criticism. Let me know what you think. love-love.
1.3k
masterlist ; read on AO3
Bucky had been the kind of boyfriend that always prioritized your pleasure over anything else. His handsâbig and callousedâran over your body gently despite the obvious strength they held.Â
He always demanded eye contact, holding your gaze with those sincere ocean blue eyes swimming with desire and something very close to devotion. One of his handsâmetal or flesh, he didn't careâwould always hold yours, reassuring you, or maybe himself, that you were there. With him. Happy. Satisfied.
And sometimes, fucked stupid.
He was never painfully slow. His pace was fast enough for your drooling pussy, thrusts delivered firmly to attack that soft, erogenous spot inside.
He'd come only after he was pleased with your releases, smirking silently when your overstimulated body trembled underneath him. When your thighs shook against his hips, and he unhurriedly buried his cum deep in you.
His nimble fingers would always find your puffy slit even after pulling out, making sure no drop slipped out while you cuddled post-sex.
You loved it.
The care.
The douceur.
Him.
Perhaps, it was time you made him feel just as worshipped.
"God, I missed you", he whispered against your neck, his hands finding your hips, pulling you closer like he could no longer handle any distance between you two. Your lips curled, head tilting to give him better access to the smooth skin, letting him plant kisses at the delicate slope.
"You were out for an hour."
"Mm, too much", he shot you a playful grin, turning you just enough to face you properly now. You looked gorgeous. Hair tied back to cook in peace. Skin glowing with whatever expensive moisturizer you used.Â
His eyes gave you that lookârequesting, looking for any hint of reciprocated desire. You only responded with a smile, hands sliding up his chest as you closed the distance. The muscles felt taut and warm beneath the sweat-stained shirt, your fingers curling around the fabric to pull him further.
Grabbing your waist, essentially hoisting you, he deepened the kiss. His tongue sought yours, beard scratching the skin around almost pleasantly. The raw food lay forgotten in the back.
Without breaking apart, he gently guided you around, finding a blind way to the bedroom. His arms tightened their grip as he finally stepped you both inside, his foot kicking the door shut behind.
But before he could try to lay you comfortably on the fluffy mattress and ravish you like he intended, you pulled back. He made an almost inaudible noise, chasing your mouth instinctively.
Your palm pressed itself against his midriff and he immediately quietened. His voice faltered mid-sentence, every muscle seeming to freeze as though someone had pressed pause. His brows knit together, his expression tightening and eyes flicking downward to check you with panic.
"What's wrong, doll? Do you notâ"
"I just..."
You sighed. Your cheeks tingled with the blood rushing there with embarrassing speed. So, instead of voicing your request, you pushed the hem of his shirt.
The moment he yanked the fabric off, you pressed a deep kiss at his chest. Satisfied with the hitch in his throat, you slowly descended, your lips trailing wet kisses in their wake. You ever so often licked away at his skin, your body tingling at the feel of his abs tense against your tongue.
Trusting your boyfriend's brain to understand your wordless want, you sank. Your knees hit the plush carpet with a thump, toes curling in anticipation.
Your eyesâwide with the need to study his expression and glossy with needinessâmet his.
His breath stopped. His soul left his body. God knows what all happened to the poor man in a split of a second.
One moment he was simply hard. The next, he was about to come in his pants like a teenager at the very sight of you kneeling before him.
"Doll, you don't have toâ"
You cut him off firmly, a hand gliding up to his thigh, "I want to, Sarge."
Your mouth hovered over the zip of his pants, lips tentativelyâteasinglyâbrushing the hardness straining under. His head tipped back, chest heaving with uneven inhales.
Your nails dragged a slow path past his abdomen, nearing his belt but never hooking. His hips bucked over, chasing friction.
With a deliberate bat of your eyelashes, you finally unbuckled the leather from its loop, discarding it mindlessly on the floor. You unzipped the jean, the fabric sitting a little looser on his hips now.
Your teeth sunk into the waistband, dragging the easy fabric down. Eye level with his erection, it was your turn to swallow hard.
Months of dating Bucky and yet, you could never get used to the size.
Reverently, you removed the boxers along, gasping quietly at the sight. His cock sprang out, hard, throbbing, and very angry at the tipâleaking precum.
"It'll be okay."
You nod at the reassurance, leaning forward to pepper light kisses over the length. He hissed loudly, his right hand threading itself through your hair. His grip tightened with every teasing lick and swirl.
Having enough, he wrapped his metal fingers around the thick shaft, guiding it to your inviting plump lips. The salty taste greeted you first as you worked your jaw open, the stretch almost overworking.
The second your wet warmth enveloped him, he let out a groan, his head falling backward. He triedâhe really did. But his hips moved out of his control, thrusting into the tight expanse mindlessly.
"Oh fuck. SoâSo tight. My perfect girl."
His cock sat heavy on your tongue, pushing its way to your throat despite your obscene gags. You slurped and choked around him, the vibrations of your pretty sounds only spurring him further.
He couldn't hold back.
"Just like that, doll."
Both palmsâlarge and tepid over your headâheld it in place as he sped up. With every stuttering thrust, his heavy balls slapped against your chin, saliva pooling there alongside his own precum.
He dared make the mistake of fluttering his eyes open to look at you. Because fuckâ
You were brimming with tears at the strain, lashes damp as they blinked at him. Your cheeks, flushed with a beautiful shade of rose, were hollowed, struggling to take all of him in.
"Oh baby, those eyesâshitâgonna be the death of me."
His flesh hand left your hair, dropping as he instead flexed his fingers. Your gaze caught the movement, your own hand moving over to hold his. Such a sap.
You would smile if you could.
His cock had started pulsing at the back of your mouth now. Insistent. Signaling.
With a broken moan, he abruptly pulled out. Fisting himself, he finally let go. Hot liquid spurted over your face, sticky globs painting your cheeks. Your lips. Your forehead.
Your tongue darted out to lick some off the corner of your mouth, watery eyes glancing at him.
"Shh doll, you okay?", he murmured into your ear, strong, steady arms easily carrying you to the bathroom.
You made a tiny noise of discomfort, jaw evidently sore. He gave you a small pat on the head, gingerly settling you on the marble counter.
"Let's clean you up, yeah?"
He reached for the washcloth hanging neatly beside the sink, the faucet hissing softly as warm water rushed into the basin.
He worked slowly.
One careful swipe beneath your chin.
Another across your cheek.
Every few moments he'd pull back to inspect your skin with heightened concentration, scared of bruising your skin with the water temperature.
His thumb brushed your chin lightly, turning your face just enough to catch a stubborn little smear near your jaw.
"There."
He smiled faintly.
"Much better."
You tilted your head to look in the mirror. Still disheveled. Still messy.
But....taken care of.
"I love you."
Your eyes flew back to his. The startled sound that escaped you wavered, slowly dissolving into an airy, weak laugh.
thunderbolts!bucky x reader
word count: 2.6k
disclaimers: pure smut and some angst. insecurity. power difference. sad bucky. heel kink, dumbification, lots of pet names used. reader is referred to as a woman. not proofread.
a/n: I REFUSE TO ADMIT THIS WAS INSPIRED BY A YEAT SONG, I REFUSE- yeah so this was inspired by nun id change by yeat sue me. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MEAN BUCKY what is wrong with me. anyways I finally wrote something and itâs shit!!!!!! enjoy
there was no logical reason for a respectable woman like you to want a jaded man like him.Â
you, in your red-bottomed Louboutins. covered from head to toe in precious diamonds worth more than the vibranium he carried on his shoulder each day. purse stashed with thousands of dollars in cash, likely nothing more than pocket change to you.Â
he shouldnât be your type. a man with a head full of trauma and a body covered in massive scars, dressed not to impress but instead for combative purposes. a man hardened by war and battles that continued no matter how many wars he put to an end.Â
heâs the type you try to recruit for your security team, not the type you recruit for manners such as these, such as the ones you find yourself in.Â
wandering hands up and down the sides of your dress, his featherlight touch making you shiver as your head leans back against his shoulder behind you. his heavy breath in your ear as he presses the bulge in his pants up against your ass, humming in approval as he feels you up.Â
âyou like that?â he mumbles against your ear, watching your facial expressions change as his hands continue moving to more dangerous territory. the condescending tone of his voice tells you he already knows the answer.
a soft moan falls from your lips, your eyes falling shut as his fingertips trace over the low-cut neckline of your dress. his fingers on your skin are a maddening tease of what you truly want from him, where you truly want to feel his fingers.
âwhat do you think?â you breathe softly in response, your head falling as your gaze finds where his hands rest on your breasts. his chest rumbles behind you as he chuckles ever so lowly.Â
âdoesnât matter what I think, princess,â he goads as he chuckles. his hands fall from your chest to your hips as he grinds you back on him once, twice, before taking a step back. he leverages his grip on you to spin you around, forcing your eyes to meet his.
the massive hotel suite that you stand in the center of drifts out of his purview as he stares you down. black eyeliner painted over your lids, deep red lipstick painting your lips. your beautifully styled hair barely touched, still mostly intact.Â
he wants to ruin all of it. he wants to see how much better you look with the red tinge messed all over the bottom of your face, smudged onto his own. how your eyes look red and wet after heâs had his fill, your hair undone from his own doing.
all of it from his own doing. unwinding the perfectly wound princess who shouldnât even dare look his way. allowing him, nay, asking him to defile her.Â
thatâs all either of you want.
âBucky,â you speak, and his eyes nearly go black at the sound of his name on your lips.Â
before you can say another word, he speaks up. âwhy donât you go ahead and kneel for me, sweetheart?â
he clocks the twinge of surprise in your eyes, the way youâre completely unprepared for the request so suddenly, before watching as the shock morphs into desire. excitement. a small smirk appears on his face as he unconsciously tilts his head ever so slightly at you. you want it equally as bad as he does.
you soon do as heâs requested, getting on your knees in front of him while maintaining eye contact as you do. his smirk never once falters and his cock twitches in his pants at the sight of you waiting for his next move.
he closes the small distance between you, tangling his hands in your hair and wrapping them both around the back of your head, trapping you in his hold. âI think youâre smart enough to know what happens next, princess,â he taunts. âyou have any objections to that?â
you quickly shake your head no under his grasp while simultaneously trying to hide your own small smile.Â
he chuckles at the sight.Â
âgood girl,â he says, and then heâs pulling you right up against him, pressing your face up against the rough fabric of his cargo pants covering his erection. you appear to inhale sharply with the action, and he allows himself the pleasure of rutting up against your face a few times even as the fabric separates you.
âyou want the real thing?â he goads, and you nod. he clicks his tongue once again. âuse your words,â he admonishes.
âyes, please,â you whimper, although the words are muffled as your lips remain pressed harshly against him.Â
âgo on, then.âÂ
with that permission, you hurriedly bring your hands to unbuckle the tactical belt that sits on his hips, unbuttoning his pants as quickly as possible.Â
heâs most certainly not expecting it when you begin pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to his cock over the fabric of his boxers.Â
âfuck,â he curses under his breath, watching with wide eyes as you worship his cock of your own volition. you, the most perfect woman in existence, treating him as though heâs worthy of your adoration.Â
he grunts, growing impatient. desperate.Â
âenough teasing,â he breathes. the effect youâre having on him is evident in his tone, and it does nothing but encourage you to continue.Â
your manicured fingers begin peeling back the black boxers now stained with your saliva, and his cock springs free right in front of you.Â
his tip is red, leaking, and practically begging for you to nurse from it.Â
how are you to refuse?Â
you lean in, his hands still softly holding your head as he allows you to take the lead. except he nearly cums on the spot when you begin placing delicate kisses up and down his length, continuing to torment him, continuing to push him past his limit.Â
âyou think this is funny?â he tries, yet the attempt at sounding commanding completely fails, his voice instead coming out broken and whiney.Â
you pause your ministrations to look up at him, the look in your eyes one of pure innocence, before asking, âwhat are you going to do about it?âÂ
he snaps.Â
before you can even blink, one of his hands has freed itself from its seat in your hair, reaching to stroke his cock a few times and begins feeding it to you, forcing himself down your throat as his hand on the back of your head forces you to stay in place.Â
ânot so funny now, are you, princess?â he says with fake sympathy in his voice.
by now, your hair is ruined from his hold on your head. your lipstick is smeared all over your face, and now, the length of his cock up to the base of his abdomen where he holds you against him.Â
and now, those beautiful tears have begun forming in your eyes, smearing your makeup and creating little trails down the sides of your cheeks as they fall.Â
âso pretty,â he whispers, wiping a tear from your cheek as he looks into your beautiful watery eyes. âyou look so much prettier like this than you did before me. and you looked fucking stunning all done up, you know.âÂ
you feel his words between your legs and in your chest, pulling at your heart even as you feel more turned on than youâve ever been.Â
your breaths are rough and shaky as you struggle against him, but he doesnât let go of you as he continues speaking. continues to torment you the way you did to him.
âcanât believe you got down on your knees for a man as dirty as me. wonder what your rich little friends would think if they could see you now,â he blathers on. his thumb brushes softly over your cheek as he finishes, âbut, no. I wouldnât share this beautiful sight with a soul.âÂ
a few long seconds later, he finally lets up on his grip and allows you to take a stark deep breath before beginning to use your mouth for his own pleasure.Â
âthatâs right. thatâs a good girl,â he praises as he fucks your face with abandon. âmy perfect little princess.âÂ
it doesnât take him long before heâs on edge, his balls heavy and begging for release in your warm hole.Â
âyou gonna let me come down your throat? or are you too good for that, hmm?â he questions, letting go of his hold on you for just a few moments.Â
your choice to continue fucking yourself on his cock is all the answer he needs.Â
with a loud groan, he finally lets go, holding you against him and watching as you struggle to swallow as he blesses you with his massive load.Â
he lets go, and you crumple in on yourself on the floor, devolving into a coughing mess in front of him.Â
fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckâ
he doesnât hesitate to bend over and help you to your feet, dragging you to the bed and setting you down to allow you to compose yourself. yet you donât let him go far, grabbing onto his forearm as you cough, refusing to allow him to step out of your reach.
âyour turn,â you tease with a hoarse voice as you begin to lay back on the sheets, yanking him down with you.Â
as his weight covers you, he looks you up and down, assessing how perfect you look beneath him. feeling how hard he gets not long after his first release, all from the sight of you splayed out in bed under him.
âyou sure?â he tries, but the words are cut off as you pull him in to kiss you.Â
he didnât think you would let him kiss you. putting his cock in your mouth, sure. putting his fingers on your skin, pressing them to your clit, and pushing you over the edge, sure.Â
he assumed you would draw the line here. the reminder of the difference between the two of you; the reminder that no matter how you let him objectify you in bed, youâre still you and heâs still nothing.Â
but fuck, even with his release still on your lips, you taste like perfection.
he canât help but give into you, kissing you back with fervor as he holds you tightly against him, your bodies pressed so close together youâd think you were one.Â
thatâs what he hopes for as he begins hiking your dress up your thighs, as his fingers find their way to the sensitive skin of your cunt. he wants to feel like youâre one when he finally feels you gasp against him upon his finding of your clit, upon beginning to rub soft circles against you and making you feel as good as he made you feel.Â
âno,â you whine, and he almost freaks, pulling his fingers away from you without another thought. âno, need⊠need you to fuck me.âÂ
he scoffs a little. âitâll hurt if you donât let meââ
âwould you shut up and fuck me?â
no way he would protest that offer.
his hands roughly shove your thighs apart, glancing down at the heels that have still managed to stay attached to your feet.Â
âwanna feel those digging into me,â he encourages you. âbetter leave me bleeding.âÂ
you smile at him when he says that.
not a smirk, not a tease. a real smile.Â
it nearly rips his heart down the center.Â
âyes, Bucky,â you breathe, and he doesnât wait another second as he leans into you, lining himself up with your weeping entrance, begging for him to find his home inside you.Â
within seconds, heâs addicted. addicted to the way you feel, the way you sound, the way you look taking his cock so well.Â
âpussyâs so tight, doll,â he moans, his New York accent growing thicker with each word. âsure you can handle me?âÂ
âjusâ just, please,â you begin to beg as he continues to sheath himself inside you.Â
âaww, you going dumb on my cock, princess?â he taunts. âyou like letting me fuck you stupid?âÂ
you fail to respond with words, your head falling back against the pillow beneath you as your jaw drops open. heâs finally fully inside you, filling you beyond what you ever thought imaginable.Â
âlook at ya. such a perfect little princess for me,â he blabbers as his mouth begins running away from him. his hips start to move against yours, slow and shallow thrusts quickly giving way to rougher movements more like youâve been waiting for. âsuch a sweet pussy youâve got. fucking unbelievable⊠been waiting for the day youâd let me fuck you, princess. gonna let me have you again? you gonna tell me the next time you need fucked, let me take care of ya?â
âyes, yes, yes,â you begin moaning in tandem with each of his movements.
âcan you say my name real pretty, sweetheart?â he requests. he watches your face, monitoring every little reaction he manages to push out of you as his hips rut against yours.
âBucky,â you moan.
âwhoâs giving it to you real good?âÂ
âBucky, please,â you whine, pleading with him.Â
he knows what you want. he knows he should tease you some more, get you to beg some more. whatever you say in the heat of the moment is just that; the heat of the moment. whether youâre ever going to deign to let him touch you ever again, heâs not sure. he should drag this moment out as much as possible.Â
but he canât possibly deny you, his sweet little princess, any longer. even if that means itâs over for good.
âalright, go ahead,â he says, his voice suddenly softening as he presses his thumb to your clit once more. âwhenever youâre ready, princess.â
just as he expected, itâs the sweetest sight. your swollen red lips parting, your eyes rolling back in your head, all while your cunt squeezes the life out of him and your heels dig deep into his back.
good girl, he says to himself, listening so well.Â
the orgasm you have on his cock is blinding. every muscle in your body contracts and releases as you ride out your pleasure, his body unable to hold back anymore as his own orgasm follows. the warmth of his release fills your belly as you begin to come down from the high.Â
he wants nothing more than to collapse on top of you, to wrap his arms around you and hold you tight. as though he could ever call you his.Â
but heâs not worthy of that, just as heâs not worthy of you.Â
he never will be.
so instead, he pushes himself away from you and lies down beside you in the sheets of your hotel room that youâve so graciously invited him into. you donât waste any time before standing, kicking off your shoes and walking to the table on the other side of the room to pick up your phone, staring down at the screen and not looking back at him once.Â
âthank you, princess,â he murmurs as he stares at you with the same intensity of which you stare at your phone.
âyou donât need to thank me, Bucky,â you scoff, and yet you still donât look up at him.Â
he certainly feels the need to. he certainly feels the need to thank you, to show you his gratefulness for allowing him to have the chance to finally have you, even just once.Â
because the way you look at him once all is said and done, the same way you do when the sun is shining, reminds him of his place and reminds him that youâre more than he could ever deserve.
and yet, even still, when he looks at you?
when he thinks about how different everything could be, pondering living in an alternate universe where he did deserve you?Â
thereâs nothing heâd change.Â
⊠masterlist âŠ
general bucky tag list (send an ask or dm to be removed):
summary It's been maybe a month now. Bucky refuses to have sex with you. Not outright. But a 'not now, baby', or 'sorry doll, tired'. You're starting to doubt he just...doesn't want you anymore. Unbeknownst, he wants you just as much. So, what's the issue?
author's note finally a smut. My first-ish explicit smut. God, I hope I wrote it right. This explicit writing knowledge has come to me after reading thousands of fics. So, uh, I could only pray it's nice.
I'm also always open to criticism. love-love.
warnings mdni; smut; eventual fluff; soft!bucky; strength difference?; dirty talking; lots of dirty talking; nicknames (baby, sweet girl, doll, sweetheart); piv; oral (f!rec); very appropriate use of metal arm; misunderstandings; miscommunication; it's sorted later!
â„1.5k
masterlist
It had been a month now. A month without absolutely climbing Bucky. Without telling him how much you needed him.
You'd tried once.
Your leg slowly curling around his hip under the blanket. Then your hand sliding around his chest and playing with his dogtags.
Until he'd gruffly murmured a "baby, 'm tired". And you respected that. Slowly retracting yourself from the man, you tried your best to ignore the warmth that had pooled in your lower stomach. Your thighs rubbed against one another needily, face buried in the pillow as you tried to think of anything to turn you off now.
But it still hurt because that 'groggy' voice was fooling no one.
Your relationship wasn't weak by any means. You loved Bucky more than anything in the whole world, and the man had expressed his love for you more than once, in more than one way.
His gentle touches. His soft gaze. His low tone with you.
Everything about him screamed a doting boyfriend.
Never obsessive. Never controlling.
But always there. Always present and caring.
Another Thursday evening where your socked feet rested on Bucky's lap, tickling him with the fuzzy fabric even through his pants. Your cheek was pressed against the cushion, face half disappearing in there as you watched Bucky with yearning eyes. A petulant pout was starting to make its way on your lips.
He was watching the random princess movie playing on the ridiculously big TV you'd insisted on buying, more invested in the fight between the two step-sisters than you were. Eventually, however, his senses did catch on.
"What's wrong doll?", he turned to look at you, that always-present softness in his eyes directed to you, and only you now.
You huffed. Will he ever just let you be upset? Your thighs slotted around his comfortably when you climbed over, your movement lazy and deliberately slow.
"Well, I just want my boyfriend", whining, your nose tucked itself in the crook of his neck, breathing in the clean scentâsomething masculine and uniquely Bucky.
"Babyâ", he started again, firm, strong hands finding your waist, about to deposit you back on the side of the couch. But then your widened eyes shining with insecurityâreal or dramatic, he couldn't tellâmet his, and he instantly melted.
Pressing a lingering, chaste kiss on the top of your head, he gave you a little smile. Compensating. But not convincing.
"What's wrong?", you cupped his cheeks, fingers tense against the well-groomed stubble. "You know, if you just say it, I'll stop asking you."
A soft sigh. His gaze dropped to his own lap, his grip tightening around the faded, worn hoodie you'd put on. Sliding them down to your thighs, he drew small, anxious circles on the smooth skinâmostly to comfort himself than you.
"I justâit's not that. I always want it with you."
You almost snorted at that. Always?
"But baby, I just wasn't sure you'd like it."
You were cartwheeling and backflipping and somersaulting. Because what the fuck? Not sure? As if you hadn't been salivating like a hungry dog around him. You blinked at him in total disbelief for a whole of one minute.
"Fuckâ", you gasped breathlessly, face flushed crimsonâlack of breath. Definitely not how hot he looked shirtless.
"You asked for it, doll. Come on, wrap your pretty legs around me", a rasp. He pressed you to himself urgently as if enough willpower of his would merge you together. The closeness just wasn't enough.
You know, if you were rich and had money, you'd literally compose a song of the things he murmured in your ear when he was on top of you, hovering with that smirk. Becauseâ
"Shh, my sweet girl only has to wait a little more. Yeah, can you do that?"
"Mm, there you go. All settled and comfortable."
"It's okay, doll. I'll never do anything you don't want."
His armâstrikingly cold and oh so confident in how it movedâlifted your back just enough to yank the clasp of your bra. The sudden, harsh movement made your breasts bounce enticingly, and God, Bucky had to be stupid to force this out of his life for a whole month.
Your teeth sunk into the plumpness of your lip, muffling any sounds that could've escaped you. Eyes squeezed tight as you struggled to register every sensation, your head thrashed against the pillow. He descended with wet kisses all over your skin as though they were trails of passion left behind.
His warm skin glided against yours painfully slow, gaze unwaveringly locked on yours. He was not going to miss a single second of the adorable, flustered expressions on your face.
"Aww, look at you. So ready for it, aren't you?", thumbs swiping against the jut of your hipdips, his teeth grazed every spot he wanted markedâhe just couldn't get enough of what he'd been so obviously missing.
When his lips finally met your weeping pussy, your back almost flew off the bed. Because shit, that man had one hell of a tongue.
It swept. It lapped. It curled.
Your thighs snapped around his head, keeping him in place despite how overwhelming he was making you feel. His groan at your action vibrated against your wet flesh, saliva and slick obscenely slurped by the seemingly starving man.
Your chest tightened with how hard you were fighting yourself to control your noises, a bead of sweat travelling down the valley of your hickey-adorned breasts.
Yes. Just a little moreâ
"Why'd you stop?", you mewled breathlessly, eyes snapping open to reveal how glossy and needy they'd become.
"You don't have to lie about liking it", he murmured softly, eyes reluctant to meet yours, afraid to see hidden unsatisfaction as he shifted to sit back on his haunches.
"Huh?", you gaped at him, still stupid from how close you were from absolutely drenching the sheets with your release.
"You don't like it. You don't evenâ", he cut himself abruptly, perhaps ashamed to continue. "You don't even let me know how you feel."
You stared at him blankly. Then, in a painfully plain tone, you deadpanned, "Bucky, wow. Bucky, it felt nice. Bucky, please get back to my pussy. Like that?"
He choked at that, coughing and spluttering.
Your thighs were uncomfortably spread wide, knees hurting despite the pillows Bucky had slid under them with that cute, quiet concern. Your body was arched awkwardly till your back thudded against his bare, sweaty chest with every thrust he pistoned. One cold, unyielding forearm hugged your throat close, the difference in temperature maddening you, paired with a deep, low voice whispering dirty praises into your ears.
With every scratch of his stubble against yours, with every tighten of fingers at your right hip, you were losing control over your mouth. Jaw hanging, drool pooling, you could barely stop your moans.
"So perfect. So beautiful. Aren't you the perfect fit around my dick?"
His pace didn't falter with time. If anything, he got faster.
"Need to hear you, baby. Come on, sweetheart, please. Please, let me hear you."
There was a desperation in the way he spoke. As if your sounds were supposed to assure him of how good he was fucking the brains out of you. Your mind went blankerâif that was possible.
"Thought you didn't likeâfuck, ahâlike a loud partner", you scrambled for purchase, fingers digging into the strong muscle holding you upright.
Bucky frowned at that. He'd die to hear your beautiful voice break and hitch on his cock. But no time for questions right now. He had priorities. Namely, an orgasm.
"Need you to sing for me, doll. Please."
Who were you to say no to that? You let go. Cute "uh-uh"s, and "Oh, Bucky"s, slipped. The room felt heatedâcombined with the noises you both were making, and the lewd slap of skin on skin. The wet squelches echoing in the sex-smelling room made your cunt gush in both embarrassment and unfiltered need.Â
Your voice had acted a switch. He was more confident with his aim now. The tip kissing your cervix with an intensity he was setting precisely, with his hips. You could feel him in your stomach. Your throat. Your everywhere. And with every panted "So big!", you massaged his ego.
Massaging his dick was a job your clenching, hot insides were taking care of.
His warmer hand slid down from your hip to the mess between your legs, moving his digits with vigor. They pinched the sensitive, pulsing bud there, forcing you to chase your high alongside him.
"My pretty darling. You need to come with me, okay? Come on, do it for me, doll."
"Yes, just like that. No more holding back, baby. Make my dick wetter."
Finally crashing, he slumped on top of you, his mouth curling up involuntarily when you weakly whined at the heavy weight. Rolling over, he grabbed you to flip onto your back with him.
"Can't believe you assumed I wouldn't absolutely love to hear you lose it on my cock", he grumbled, voice unfairly deep and obviously dripping with smugness. You hummed mindlessly, still trying to reconnect with reality. Slowly, and on wobbly legs, you lowered yourself on the floor. With shaky steps, you approached the bathroomâno space for UTIs between you and Bucky.
"Whole relationship, thought I wasn't satisfying you enough."
You shot him a look over you shoulder in incredulity.
"Didn't assume. Sam tricked me."
"..."
"..."
"HE WHATâ"
end notes: can't believe Sam tricked y'all with fake "bucky hates that, ew" stories </3
Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes
Header made by my friend / divider made by me
GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!đ
One minute, you and Bucky are cuddling on the couch and watching a movie and the next minute, the power goes out due to the thunderstorm thatâs currently happening outside. You threw your head back and groaned loudly. Bucky chuckles softly.
âItâs going to be fine, doll.â Bucky assures softly.
âI hope so. In the meantime, Iâm going to find every candle in the apartment to give us some light.â You say.
You got up from the couch and searched for every candle in yours and Buckyâs apartment, finding more than you thought. You set them up all around the living room and lit them.
âThatâs better.â You say.
You sighed as you sat back down on the couch.
âWhile you were on the hunt for candles, I called maintenance and they said the power should be restored by tomorrow afternoon.â Bucky says.
âWhatâre we supposed to do till then?â You asked.
Bucky grins. You know that grin. Thatâs the face he makes when he has a great idea. A great idea in a sexual way to be exact.
âWhatâre you thinking, babe?â You asked.
âIâd rather show you.â He grins.
Bucky sinks to his knees in front of you. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs, along with your panties. He spreads your legs and gets in between them. He puts his hands on your hips to pull you closer to him, your ass on the edge of the couch. A soft gasp left your lips when you felt his breath on your pussy. Bucky maintained eye contact with you when he flattened out his tongue on your pussy and licked upwards to your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit as he did so.
âBucky!â You moaned.
Bucky grins against your pussy before he began to eat you out like a starved man. His tongue moves against your pussy with precise precision. Your hands go down to his head, tugging on his hair. Your head falls back against the back of the couch, moans of his name and cuss words leaving your lips.
âBucky! Oh yes! Bucky!â You moaned.
He loves the way you moan his name. Your moans are like music to his ears. Your moans urged him on. Bucky brings his hand up to your pussy and slides two fingers into your pussy. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking on it as his fingers began to fuck you. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the two sensations that youâre experiencing right now.
âOh my god!â You moaned.
Buckyâs fingers fucked you with no mercy and you didnât mind one bit. You love everything thatâs happening right now. Your legs threatened to close around his head, but he pushed them back open with his shoulders. His free hand held onto one of your legs, spreading you wider for him.
âFuck, baby!â You moaned when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you.
Bucky knows he hit that one spot that always leaves you wanting more. His fingers hit that spot again before curling his fingers in your pussy, hitting that spot perfectly. He goes from sucking on your clit to flicking it with his tongue. Your orgasm was building up quickly due to the movements from his fingers and tongue. You can feel it deep inside of you.
âIâm going to cum!â You moaned.
âCum for me, babydoll. Give it to me.â Bucky says.
Buckyâs movements didnât stop for a second. He continues to fuck you with his fingers and his tongue continues to flick against your clit as you came. He didnât miss the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You moaned his name loudly too. His fingers and tongue fucked you through your orgasm. Then he pulls away from your pussy and withdrawals his fingers. You panted as you watched your boyfriend lick your cum off of his fingers. He moans at your taste as he did so. Then he kisses you feverishly.
âReady for more, doll face?â Bucky asks.
âIâm always ready for more, babe.â You say seductively.
That grin returns to Buckyâs face. You bite your bottom lip as you repositioned yourself on the couch as Bucky stripped himself of his clothes. You took the rest of your clothes off too. Then he gets in between your legs. He kisses you again. You moaned when you felt his cock touch your pussy.
âBucky!â You whined.
Bucky smirks at you and then wrapped his hand around his hard cock, stroking it a few times before lining it at your entrance. You threw your head back against the couch cushion, moaning as his cock stretched you open. Then he started thrusting. His thrusts werenât relentless and hurried, but they were fast. Buckyâs hands held onto your waist as he fucked you. The sound of skin slapping and the smell of sex quickly fills the living room.
âFuck. You feel so good.â Bucky moans.
âSo do you!â You moaned.
You wrapped your arms and legs around him, pulling him even more closer to you if itâs possible. Doing that made his cock thrust deeper into your pussy. You threw your head back against the couch cushion, moaning loudly. Your nails dug in his skin, scratching downward, which left red line marks on his back. Bucky hisses at the feeling.
One of your hands moved up his back to the back of his head. You pushed his head down to you and kissed him feverishly. He kissed you with tongue, which you like in moments like this. Your fingers tug at his hair as you two kissed. You two were moaning against each otherâs lips. One of Buckyâs hands went in between you and him and began rubbing your clit in a fast circular motion. You pull away from the kiss to throw your head back and moan.
âAh, fuck! Bucky!â You moaned.
âYea, you like that, donât you, doll face?â Bucky says, his voice sounding a bit gruff.
âI do! So much!â You moaned.
Your hips bucked against his hand. Buckyâs free hand held you down against the couch.
âNo moving.â He says.
Buckyâs thrusts sped up. His thrusts are now relentless. You could feel his cock hitting that one spot inside of you with each relentless thrust. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head each time his cock hit that spot.
âFuck!â You moaned loudly.
âRight there, babydoll?â Bucky asks, knowing damn well thatâs the spot.
âYes! Oh my god! Yes.â You moaned again.
Buckyâs fingers moved faster against your clit, matching the pace of his thrusts. You could feel your second orgasm building up faster than the first one. Your legs began to tremble against Buckyâs sides. He could sense that youâre about to cum any second from the way your pussy was squeezing around his cock.
âI know youâre close, doll face. Cum for me again. Make a fucking mess on my cock.â Bucky says, moaning after he said that.
You did just that too. You came hard. You moaned his name loudly as you did so. Bucky couldnât take his eyes away from where you and him are connected. He got even more turned on at the sight of you coming.
âGood fucking girl.â He praises.
Buckyâs thrusts never faltered for a second as his orgasm built up. He wasnât too far behind you. A guttural moan falls from his lips as he came inside of you. A white ring of cum was on the base of his cock. He thrusts a few more times, fucking his cum deep into you. Then his thrusts come to a stop. He presses himself against you. He pants as he stares down at you for a few seconds before leaning back on his knees, his cock slipping out of your pussy. He looks down at your pussy, watching his cum drip out of your pussy from the candlelight.
âFuck. Thatâs hot.â Bucky breathes.
You grinned and sat up. You put your hands on Buckyâs chest and pushed him back onto the couch. Bucky grins as you got onto his lap, your pussy touching his cock thatâs hardening again.
âThis is the best way to spend a power outage.â You say.
âThe nightâs not over yet, doll face.â He says and grins.
âOh, I know itâs not.â You say seductively.
The night was not wasted for a moment. You and Bucky spend the whole night making each other feel good, which is the best way to spend a power outage. Also, the thunderstorm is dying down, which you two completely forgot about.
âFuck you're doing s-so good for me" He groans as he pushes into you over and over again, at a relentless pace.His vibranium hand tightly wrapped around your throat, pressing down just so much that little gasps come out of your mouth but not so much that it actually hurts. Just the right amount of pressure.
You already know that your friends are gonna ask what happed to your neck but to be honest your didn't really care. Your squirm underneath him as his tip rocks against your cervix over and over again, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
The hand that isn't wrapped around your throat moves to your clit and while moving his hips in and out of your his draws gentle but fast circles on your clit.
âFuckkk" you breath out as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. He speeds up his pace as he feels your gummy walls getting tighter around his cock. The look on your face still tells him you want more tho so he leans further down and moves some more of his weight onto your small body.
It was in the way he could steal the air from your lungs with just one look, make your heart race until your legs gave out, and leave you trembling, not out of fear, but because being consumed by him was exactly what you needed.
Your breath catches, a strangled gasp slipping past your lips as your body arches instinctively beneath him. The tension coils tighter and tighter, until it finally snaps and your orgasm crashes over you.
You fall apart completely, trembling, clutching at him like he's the only thing keeping you down to earth. And just seconds later, with a weirdly not-him-like moan and one more thrust, he follows you, his own release tearing through him as he collapses against you, breathless and shaking. The world goes silent for a moment, the only sound left is the steady rhythm of your breathing.
His breathing is still heavy as he collapses beside you.
This might sound a tad like itâs not my writing BUT Iâve stole this from my old account cus ima delete that one soon and post some of the good fics here. Iâm aware that this isnât good but hey you guys itâs been a year since I wrote this so be kind lol
summary: When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.
warnings: angst, smut, profanity, pet names (only sweetheart & baby), mutual pining of sorts, enemies to lovers (kinda), jealous!Bucky, possessive!Bucky, one bed trope, teasing, masturbation (male & female), brief thigh riding, dry humping, nausea/vomiting (not graphically described and not a major part of the story, apologies to my emetophobic girlies), oral sex (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+.
word count: 43.2k
a/n: Thanks again to @littlemiss-yeehaw for reading all of my shit and listening to my unhinged ramblings when I write, and for her amazing artwork. Thanks to @flowersforbucky for also reading my shit and for taking the time to tell me that it isn't as shitty as I think. Without them, this fic would be unreachable in the depths of my laptop's trash bin. Pics included in the title image for this fic are not representative of reader, location, etc.
           Insufferable. Is that really the right word? Can someone be insufferable when all they do is mope around in silence, giving you looks of disdain? Maybe insufferable is a word better suited to describe someone who says more than five words at a time. And yet, you still feel that Bucky Barnes is insufferable.
           Raindrops patter rhythmically against the roof of the car, making the all-too-quiet stakeout a little more bearable. You shift in the passenger seat, letting your eyes fall closed for a moment as you press your head against the leather headrest behind you. Youâve been sitting here for two hours. Thatâs two hours of listening to nothing more than the sound of your own breathing, Buckyâs occasional annoyed sighs, and the shitty audio feed of the abandoned storefront just up the street. Youâre contemplating giving in and taking a nap when you hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires somewhere outside of your parked car, and your eyes shoot open. You catch a glimpse of the flashing yellow lights of a security vehicle in the rearview mirror and Bucky groans, quickly powering down the surveillance equipment and dropping it down to the floor at his feet.
           âJust what we needed.â Bucky says sarcastically, with frustration edging his tone as the security guard pulls in closer and closer. Heâs about twenty meters behind the car now, moving slowly. Youâre sure heâs taking down the make and model of the car, the license plate, and noting the fact that itâs currently turned off. It looks suspicious as hell, you have no doubt. Your mind is moving a million miles a minute as you start shrugging your jacket off of your shoulders and mussing up your hair. âWhat are you doing?â Bucky asks, raising a brow in your direction.
           âGetting us out of this.â You mumble, glancing back in the rearview mirror one last time. You see the security vehicle coming to a stop a few meters behind, so you move a little quicker. Youâre climbing over the center console in a flash, placing your knees on either side of Buckyâs hips as you come to straddle his lap. You hover over him, with your ass pressing against the steering wheel so hard that itâs a wonder you arenât honking the horn. âMove your seat back.â You whisper harshly, gripping his shoulders with both hands as you stare down at him. Bucky swallows hard and narrows his eyes at you as if he wants to throw you right back into your own seat, but he reaches down with his vibranium hand and starts sliding the driverâs seat backward.
           Bucky canât stand you. As you lower yourself down to sit on his lap, he keeps his hands stiff, with one resting along the driverâs side door and the other resting over the center console. His hands curl into fists when you lean in and press your lips against his neck. Itâs soft and hesitant at first, as if youâre not really sure that itâs an acceptable thing to do. Buckyâs chin tilts upward and to the side instinctively, giving you more access and a clear go-ahead that has your second kiss coming in a little more desperate and firm against the column of his throat. Bucky tenses beneath you but the barely audible groan that slips past his lips has you wondering if he hates this as much as heâs trying to portray. You glance over his shoulder and see the security guard approaching the car now, his eyes scanning the rear windshield as he speaks lowly into a handheld radio.
           âBarnes, I swear to god if you donât put your hands on me and make this believableâŠâ Your threatening tone has a roguish smile tugging at the corners of Buckyâs mouth, but he refuses to let it take full form. His hands move quickly now, grabbing onto your hips and tugging them downward. He realizes as he basically grinds your clothed center over the semi-hard front of his jeans that he probably shouldnât have done that. When you feel his partial erection pressing against you, you falter for a moment, your lips stilling against his neck and your breath hitching in your throat. âAnd here I thought you couldnât stand me.â You whisper against his skin.
           âI canât.â He responds dryly, sliding his hands up the sides of your waist and letting his fingers splay out over your ribs.
           âAre you sure about that?â You ask teasingly, swirling your hips in a circle as you press down on his lap. He grunts and lets his right hand glide up your back, moving higher and higher until itâs tangled in the hair at the crown of your head.
           âPretty damn sure.â Bucky rasps as he uses his hold on your hair to tug your head back. He takes the opportunity heâs given himself to attach his lips to your neck, sucking a nice little red mark right below your ear before smoothing over it with his tongue. The whimper that leaves your lips at the feel of his tongue against your skin is enough to turn his semi-hard cock into a raging hard-on. The bright ray of a flashlight shining through the driverâs window catches your attention, and you feign surprise as the security guard taps on the window with his knuckles one, two, three times. Buckyâs letting go of your waist and hair and pushing the door open as a sly chuckle climbs up his throat.
           âI told her we shouldnât do this here.â Bucky says smugly, shaking his head as you place your hands on his chest and lean back, glaring down at him. âI canât keep her off of me.â
           âCould you uh, dismount? Maâam?â The officer requests. You turn your head and take in the short, balding man. Blush colors his cheeks a deep shade of red and you wonder if this is the most action heâs seen all year. Moving off of Buckyâs lap, you come to stand just outside of the car, crossing your arms over your chest as the cool night air hits you. You regret taking your jacket off earlier.
           âIâm so sorry.â You say ashamedly, hoping you look as faux-embarrassed as youâve made your voice sound. The man offers you a shy smile, his eyes wrinkling around the corners as Bucky climbs out of the car next. You smirk at the way Bucky tugs his jeans down and adjusts himself, trying his best to disguise the tent beneath the fabric. He glances in your direction, his eyes briefly flitting down to where your arms are crossed over your chest, before shrugging off his leather jacket and tossing it to you. Youâre still for a moment, until you realize that it would probably look questionable if you refused the kind gesture in front of the security guard, so you drape the jacket over shoulders and wrap it around your upper body. Your little act was so believable that Bucky only has to spend about one minute chatting back and forth with the security guard before he lets you both off with a warning. He didnât even ask to see your IDs. Buckyâs pretty good at bullshitting, youâll give him that.
           Infuriating. As Bucky stands beneath the steady stream of hot water, letting it soak his hair and drip over the curves of his shoulders, itâs the only word on his mind. Youâre fucking infuriating. How he continues to end up on missions with you is beyond him. He never thought he would miss the days of having Sam as his partner, but god, he misses them. He might even take Walker on as a partner if it means getting the hell away from you. Actually, heâd rather put up with you than with Walker. But anyone else? Heâd happily work with anyone else out in the field.
            Buckyâs just beginning to rinse the shampoo out of his hair when the sound of his bedroom door flying open registers in his mind. He freezes, both hands hovering at the sides of his head as you angrily rush through his room. The bathroom door is thrown open next, and he feels a whoosh of cold air floating over the top of his glass shower door.
           âA hickey?â Your voice is laced with malice. The fiery rage inside of you is stoked by the sound of Bucky laughing behind the fogged-up glass. âAre you sixteen?â
           âYou made a pretty little sound when I gave it to you.â He points out, continuing to work the shampoo into his brown locks.
           âI was playing the part.â You argue. You take a moment to glance around his bathroom, noting the way it looks exactly like yours except itâs devoid of any personality. He has dark gray rugs on the floor, a matching dark gray towel hanging over the shower door, and even a dark gray toothbrush sitting in a little white cup beside the sink. Is he allergic to every other color?
           âThe security guard couldnât hear anything inside the car, you donât have to lie to me. You liked it.â Bucky says coolly. He rinses the suds out of his hair and even with his eyes closed, heâs sure youâre standing there with your arms crossed. Itâs your signature pose in his presence.
           âI have shit to do tomorrow, Barnes. Now I have to worry about covering this up.â You complain. You snatch his towel off of the shower door and use it to wipe at the fogged-up mirror over the sink. Youâre studying the sizable red mark below your ear in the reflection when Bucky turns off the running water.
           âYou have three seconds to put my towel back before I walk out of here without it.â His voice is low and threatening now. You roll your eyes before tossing the towel back up and over the shower door, he grabs it immediately. When he steps out a moment later, he has the towel wrapped firmly around his waist. As he steps into the view of the mirror, your eyes roam over his wet, toned body in the reflection. Your gaze follows a few drops of water as they drip from his hair and trail down the side of his neck. You stand still in front of the mirror, unmoving as Bucky meets your gaze and narrows his eyes, taking a few steps forward to close the space between you. He comes to a stop with his bare chest nearly brushing against your clothed back, and then he moves his hands to grip the edge of the countertop on either side of your hips. Leaning forward the tiniest bit, his lips graze the shell of your ear and every single muscle in your body tenses up. âWhy cover it? You donât want people to know that you like being marked up?â
           âI canât stand you.â You spit coldly, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him in the reflection. Bucky chuckles lowly before letting go of the edge of the countertop and turning away from you, leaving you alone in his steamy bathroom.
           âI canât stand you either.â He calls back to you.
           When you stomp through his bedroom a moment later, he watches out of the corner of his eye as you disappear out into the hall and let his door fall shut behind you. He knows that on some level, youâre both liars. There are so many things that you canât stand about each other, and yet, thereâs an undeniable force that seems to keep you both coming back. You could simply stay away from each other when youâre in the tower. You live across the hall from each other but the place is so damn big that you could easily avoid each other anytime youâre not working together in the field. Heâs sure that somewhere beneath the haze of false hatred and tension, you can feel that incessant pull just as much as he can. Thatâs why he canât stand you. Thatâs precisely the reason why he finds you so infuriating. Because you act like you canât feel it.
           The Howling Commandos files have taken up nearly every waking second of your time for the past three days. Youâve read every word, combed through every grainy black and white picture, and taken enough notes to fill nearly twenty pages of the little notebook that currently sits open in front of you. And yet, you havenât been able to formulate a solid plan. Thatâs why the conference room is packed full of people with varying skillsets and thought processes. Fury sits at the head of the table, leaning back comfortably in his chair as he twirls a black pen in his right. Sam sits to his left, staring down at the same files youâve studied for hours. Beside him is Sharon, who looks equal parts bored and entirely over the situation at hand. Knowing the things that sheâs been up to lately, she probably has more important places to be right now. A few people are littered around the room, leaning against walls and quietly conversing with each other as they try to come up with the best course of action to solve the present issue. Youâre seated at the far end of the table, opposite of Fury, tracing the lines of your left palm with your right thumb.
           Bucky stands near the door, with his back pressed against the smooth wall and his arms crossed over his broad chest. He wouldnât be here if it wasnât labeled a mandatory meeting. Hell, even with it being labeled mandatory, he considered skipping it. He doesnât particularly enjoy watching everyone read up on his past life, even if it was the era that he considers his glory days. Being a part of the Howling Commandos was one of the few good things he ever did, but letting himself think about that time only leads him down a darker path. He thinks about how each Howling Commandos mission that he was a part of brought him closer and closer to getting captured, to losing his arm, to losing himself. Shaking his head, Bucky pushes away from the wall and stands straight, he wonders if anyone will notice him slipping out the door.
           âI donât like time travel.â Fury says evenly, keeping his eyes on the pen in his hand as he twirls it around just above the surface of the conference room table. Bucky freezes, his eyes narrowing as he looks to Fury. Everyone in the room halts, all eyes moving in the same direction to follow the commanding voice. âI donât like time travel at all. Itâs risky and it tends to fuck things up in the long run.â Fury takes a moment to cast his eyes around the room, taking in each and every person present. After making the first round, he turns his head to the right and focuses on Bucky. âUnfortunately, I think this situation calls for something risky.â
           Goosebumps spread over the surface of your skin and you tense in your seat. You follow Furyâs gaze and your eyes land on Bucky, who stands tall beside the door. His arms hang still at his sides, and for once, his vibranium arm isnât hidden behind a long shirt sleeve or leather jacket. The black and gold glints in the fluorescent lighting of the room, drawing attention like a bright red flower draws bees.
           âThe intel that we need from a currently non-existent HYDRA base doesnât exist. The Howling Commandos werenât tasked with collecting evidence or documenting what they found at each base.â Fury continues. Bucky swallows hard but maintains eye contact. He already doesnât like where this is going. âSo, we send someone back in time to get what we need.â
           As tension rises in the room and the air begins to feel like its crackling with anticipation, Fury lays out the only two potential plans he can think of. The first plan is automatically a no, because of how risky it is to send a full team back in time. The first plan wouldâve been to send someone back in time to infiltrate a specific HYDRA base moments before the Howling Commandos take it out, so the intel can be gathered and brought back to the present. But the second plan is the one that has discussion raging around the conference room.
           âSteve wouldnât trust someone heâs just met, weâd need to get through to Peggy first, then she can sway him and the rest of the Howling Commandos.â Sharon argues, leaning forward and clasping her hands together over the table. Your eyes flit over to her as her blonde hair falls over one shoulder and obscures the side of her face. Sheâs right, 1940s Steve Rogers wouldnât even come close to trusting a new person in the midst of a war, let alone one whoâs so obviously from the wrong time period. You see Sam laughing to himself further down the table and youâre sure heâs remembering the story Steve used to tell of his past self attempting to kick his present selfâs ass during his time travel stint.
           âPeggy wouldnât be wholly trusting either.â Fury points out, barely looking up from the surface of the table before him. âWe need to get Peggy and at least one of the Howling Commandos on our side for this to work. The rest will follow.â
           âWhat if we go at this from a slightly different angle?â Torres asks. He stands a few feet behind your seat, leaning against the wall as his thumbs rapid-fire away at the phone in clutched in his hands. Everyone turns their attention to him and he finally looks up, blinking once before clicking the phone off and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.
           âWeâre listening.â Fury says, his interest clearly piqued.
           âWe pick someone that Peggy could relate to, someone she would like, maybe become fast friends with.â He starts slowly, letting his gaze roam over each person in the room as he speaks. His eyes stop when he reaches Bucky, and you donât have to look over your shoulder to know that Buckyâs staring right back at him. âAnd that same person needs to be someone Bucky would like, someone heâd be drawn to. Steve would trust Buckyâs judgement, and at least by choosing to make Bucky the center of this, we have the advantage of having him right here.â
           Itâs silent for a beat as the idea is mulled over. You turn around and look back to Fury, watching as his face shifts from a blank, almost bored expression to a thoughtful one. He nods slowly before tucking the pen heâs been twirling around into the pocket of his jacket.
           âSergeant BarnesâŠâ Furyâs eyes shift to his right, landing on the stiff super soldier who looks like heâd rather be anywhere but here right now. âDoes that sound like a feasible plan?â It feels as though everyone is collectively holding in a breath as Bucky remains silent. You can tell heâs thinking, you can almost see the gears turning behind his blue eyes as he zeroes in on Fury. A small nod from him is all it takes to get the conversation churning around the room again. He's in.
           âI can be in and out and have this whole thing finished within just a few seconds of passing time here, I need maybe two days in the past.â Sharon says calmly, leaning back in her seat as she tucks a stray lock of blonde hair behind one ear. You really donât even know why the discussion is still ongoing at this point. Out of everyone left in the conference room, the majority is most definitely in favor of sending Sharon back in time for the mission. Itâs not like there were many other options. You didnât exactly volunteer yourself and as of right now, you and Sharon are the only women on the team. Sure, Fury couldâve shopped around the agency a bit and found a few other suitable agents to screen for the task at hand, but Sharon seems pretty set on handling it herself.
           âOkay, say you gain Peggyâs trust easily. What about Bucky? Whatâs your plan for getting him on your side?â Sam asks with a raised brow. The room grows quiet and all eyes land on Sharon as she filters through the possible methods she could use. Your eyes flit over to where Bucky is still leaning against the wall by the door, looking slightly less disinterested in the conversation than he was earlier. Heâs studying Sharon with an unreadable expression painted on his face. Instinctively, your hand lifts up to the healing hickey thatâs hidden beneath a layer of concealer and foundation right below your ear. For the briefest moment, he turns his head and tracks your movement, his eyes roaming down to the tips of your fingers as they brush over the skin of your neck. You drop your hand in an instant and his blue eyes meet yours. You can feel the arrogance radiating off of him and you roll your eyes before looking back to Sharon. You swear you hear Bucky chuckle under his breath, but when you glance around the room, no one else seems to have heard a thing.
           âI just put on a pretty outfit and dance with him. It canât be that hard to woo a soldier in his bachelor phase.â Sharon laughs out. A few softer laughs ring out around the table, but Torresâs next question quiets everyone.
           âBucky, what kind of girl would you have asked to dance back in the forties?â
           You think it must be Buckyâs lack of an immediate response that sucks the air out of the room. Itâs so quiet you can hear the sound of your own heart beating in your ears, even though itâs beating at a normal rate and rhythm. You steal a look at Bucky once again, whoâs face is cast downward at the floor. He seems to find his shoes overly interesting all of a sudden. Everyoneâs staring at him.
           Buckyâs mind is churning, running through all of the girls he ever shared a moment with back in his golden days. He has a type in more ways than one. Itâs not just a physical type. Heâs always been drawn to women with certain personality traits, women with certain ways of carrying themselves, certain ways they flirt. One wouldnât think he was picky with the number of girls he found himself in the company of back in the day, but he damn sure was. And he still is. Thatâs why his heart beats a little harder, vibrating against his ribcage as he lets out a deep breath and finally looks up. He can feel everyoneâs eyes on him, but he focuses in on the one person that heâs sure his younger self will trust. Buckyâs staring right at you.
           âIt needs to be you.â He says firmly, fixing his gaze on your face as the color drains from it. If the air hadnât been sucked out of the room when Torres first asked a question, it sure as hell wouldâve been now. Your breath is hitched in your throat and the skin over your hidden hickey suddenly feels like itâs on fire. No, scratch that. Every inch of your skin feels like itâs on fire. Color returns to your cheeks as quickly as it first disappeared, and suddenly, youâre flushed pink.
           âMe?â The word leaves your lips as an unintended whisper, but you canât be bothered to clear your throat and try again. You know he heard you. He nods slightly, looking quite sure of himself, but his expression is still unreadable and itâs driving you mad.
           âHer?â Sharon questions, narrowing her eyes at you and pursing her lips. Sheâs looking at you in disbelief, but not because itâs questionable that youâd be someoneâs type. Sheâs looking at you like that because she knows, like everyone knows, that you and Bucky are at each otherâs throats more often than not. Why would that be any different with a younger version of himself? The last thing the team needs is you getting sent back in time to argue with yet another version of Bucky Barnes.
           âHer.â Bucky shrugs, shooting Sharon a look that easily shuts her up. She leans back in her seat once more and crosses her arms over her chest, indicating that she doesnât like where this is going.
           âAre you sure?â Sam asks with a raised brow, his eyes flitting between you and Bucky. Bucky pushes himself away from the wall and turns to face the door that leads out into the hall. As his flesh hand wraps around the door handle, he finds himself biting down on the inside of his cheek. Heâs sure that his younger self will be drawn to you, that heâll trust you, yeah. Is he sure that this is a good idea? Hell no.
           âItâs her.â Bucky confirms. Then, he walks out of the conference room as if he didnât just drop a fucking bomb in the middle of the goddamn gunmetal table. What the hell does he mean itâs you?
           Your silence is unsettling. Bucky thought you might come storming into the gym during his evening workout, ready to give him a violently worded piece of your mind after he left the conference room earlier, but you never did. Then, while a mix of sweat and suds spilled down the drain of his shower, he listened intently for the sound of his bedroom door flying open, but it never came. He sits on the side of his bed in the dim light of a lamp, thumbing through the little red notebook that once belonged to Steve. He isnât digesting its contents. Really, he isnât even skimming over the words that are written in pencil before him. Heâs zoned out as he strains his ears to listen for you across the hall. He knows youâre in your room. Itâs late, just a bit past midnight now, and youâre always tucked away in there by ten. But youâre not asleep, thatâs for damn certain. He can hear the occasional sound of your footsteps against the soft rug you have spread over your bedroom floor. Every few minutes, he hears an uncharacteristic scuffling sound, following by a thud. What the hell are you doing over there?
           He waits a moment longer before his curiosity and impatience get the best of him, and then heâs tossing the notebook onto his bed and taking long strides toward the hall. If you wonât come to him to argue about todayâs conference room situation, about whatâs now lingering on the horizon, then heâll go to you. Arguing about it will be far better than sitting around while you do whatever the hell sort of noisy thing it is youâre doing over there right now, Bucky thinks.
           In retrospect, he shouldâve knocked. By the time heâs throwing your unlocked door open and taking the first step into your room, heâs already sporting a half-hard cock beneath the all-too-thin fabric of his sweats and boxers. The dog tags hanging against his bare chest give away the increased rate of his breaths as his eyes skate over you. Youâre on your hands and knees in the center of the room, with your cheeks flushed pink and your oversized t-shirt making it look like youâre not wearing anything else. As you stare up at Bucky, both of you frozen in place, youâre acutely aware of the compromising position heâs found you in. You sit back on your knees quickly, dropping the last few stray rings into the small jewelry tray in your left hand.
           âWhat the hell, Bucky?â You look up at him with a mix of confusion and annoyance in your eyes as the rings clink against the ceramic tray. Bucky swallows hard as he stares down at you, trying to figure out what the fuck youâre doing in the middle of the floor. His gaze lands on one single golden ring glinting in the low light of your room and your eyes follow his.
           âYou missed one.â He says lowly. You reach out and pick it up with your thumb and index finger before setting it on the small tray along with the rest. âWhat are you doing?â
           âRearranging.â You respond dryly. You stand carefully, making sure not to dump all of your rings out a second time, before crossing the room and setting the tray on your recently moved vanity. Buckyâs only been in your room once or twice before, but he notices the changes immediately. Youâve moved your vanity from the right side of the room to the left. The chair you used to have sitting near the window now sits in a corner near the bed. A few other small pieces of furniture are strewn about haphazardly, as if you havenât quite decided where you want them yet.
           âAt midnight?â Bucky raises a brow, catching your eyes as you turn to face him once more.
           âWhat are you doing in my room, Bucky?â In his peripheral vision, he sees the slight reflection of light in one last piece of jewelry on the floor. Itâs just a foot in front of him, so he steps further into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him as he bends down and scoops the rose gold ring up in his palm.
           âYou havenât said anything since the team meeting earlier today.â He points out. He studies the small ring in his hand, realizing for the first time just how much smaller your hands are than his. You donât make a move to take it from him, so he continues fiddling with it as he stands in the middle of your room.
           âYou walked out.â You remind him. You turn your back to him and begin straightening up a few things on your vanity. Itâs weird to have him in your room like this. Your skin feels warm while the air in the room feels cold. Your oversized t-shirt feels too small while his presence feels much too large.
           âI didnât have anything else to say.â Bucky takes a few more steps forward and turns, bending at the knees to sit on the foot of your nicely made bed. You watch him in the reflection of your vanity mirror, wondering why the hell he seems so comfortable in your room.
           âAnd I should? What do you want me to say?â
           âAnything.â His single-word response makes the air in the room feel even icier, and suddenly, youâre wishing youâd put on sweats tonight. A deep breath rattles in your chest before you turn around to face him.
           âItâs not me.â You say evenly. You cross your arms over your chest and focus on his face as he stares back at you. Heâs still fiddling with the ring, running the pad of his thumb back and forth over it mindlessly.
           âItâs you.â He sighs. He almost seems tired with the conversation, which is frustrating considering heâs the one who came in here and started it.
           âItâs not, and having me deal with two of you is a recipe for disaster. I can barely handle one Bucky Barnes in this century. Sharonâs the better choice.â
           âItâs not Sharon.â
           âBuckyââ
           âItâs you. I donât know what you need me to say or do to convince you, but itâs you. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can start making a plan and preparing for the mission.â
           His words swirl around in your head, bouncing off of the walls of your mind like itâs a fucking pinball machine. Itâs not you. Youâre pretty damn sure that what 1940s Bucky Barnes needs is anything but you. Maybe Buckyâs so far removed from his younger self that he just doesnât realize how wrong you are for this mission. Heâs gotten too used to working with you in the field lately and he doesnât want to figure things out in the field with a new partner. Whatever his reasoning is, you need him to figure his shit out before youâre sent back in time to fuck up the op.
           âYou canât convince me.â You reply stubbornly, narrowing your eyes at him. âSharon is right for this mission and everyone sees that but you.â When he glances up at you this time, his eyes settle on the light pink mark beneath your ear. His mark.
           âYouâre my type.â The words slip past his lips before he can stop them, and heâs gripping the ring tightly in his flesh fist.
           âWhat?â
           âIâm not saying it again.â He decides, pushing himself up to stand. Youâre frozen in stunned silence, your eyes wide. Youâre sure youâre about to watch him walk out the door after dropping his second bomb of the day, but he turns to face you. Heâs moving forward before you have a chance to do or say a damn thing. Bucky doesnât stop until your arms are dropping down to your sides and his hands are resting on your hips. He walks you backward one, two steps, until your ass hits the edge of the vanity and a gasp parts your lips.
âThere was this bar in London, the Whip and Fiddle. I went there with Steve and the guys a few times.â Bucky starts. His tone is low and gravelly and his lips are so close to yours that they nearly touch with every word he speaks. Heâs looking down into your eyes with an intense look, a look that keeps you firmly in place, along with his hold on your hips and his muscular frame pressed partially against your front. A shiver runs down your spine, but you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. Buckyâs right hand glides upward, following the curve of your body until his fingertips are ghosting over the side of your neck. He presses his thumb against your healing hickey lightly, feeling you tense against him at the touch. âIf younger me saw you walk into that bar, even with all of the noise and the low lights, heâd fucking swoon. It would all be over. The chasing girls around, only ever learning first names and hometowns, the bachelor shit. It would be over. Heâd follow you anywhere.â
âBuckyââ
           âItâs you. Not Sharon, not anyone else damn it, itâs you.â His vibranium hand tightens over your hip and his right hand slides further back behind your head. His fingers tangle in your hair but itâs a gentle, careful act. You tilt your head up and take in his serious expression. His brows are furrowed and his gaze heats your face as he stares down at you. He isnât fucking with you. He isnât trying to get in your head or manipulate you into being a part of this mission. He means every word of what heâs saying right now and it scares the shit out of you. You move quick, drawing your arms up between the two of you and pressing your palms flat against his bare chest. You shove him back hard, forcing him to take one big step away from you. He doesnât look surprised at all, and his expression never shifts, the seriousness never leaves his face.
           âYou canât stand me.â You remind him, though the words feel empty as you say them. Youâre questioning the notion, as if he hasnât said those words himself a hundred times before.
           âI canât.â He agrees, nodding slowly. You take a deep, shaky breath in and let it out through your teeth. âBut for some reason, itâs still you.â
           You stand still, with the edge of the vanity still digging into your ass and your chest heaving as Bucky turns his back to you and heads for the foot of your bed. You watch through narrowed eyes as he leans over and scoops up the ring he left sitting there. He straightens up and looks down at the small shiny object held precariously between his thumb and forefinger.
           âDo you know how to dance?â The question rolls off of his tongue so casually that for a moment, you wonder if anything that just happened really happened. Did he not have you pushed up against the vanity only seconds ago? Was he not touching you and leaning in close like you meant something to him after months of acting like youâre nothing more than his shit-giving coworker?
           âWhat?â You nearly choke on the word. Your throat is so dry after seemingly forgetting to swallow at all in his presence.
           âDo you know how to dance?â He repeats, craning his neck to the side to look at you.
           âWhat the hell doesââ
           âHeâs going to ask you to dance, and youâll have to say yes.â Bucky says matter-of-factly. You find it a little odd that he refers to his younger self as if heâs someone else, but you donât comment on it. âI can teach you.â
           âFine.â Bucky freezes at your quick and unexpected caving. He raises an eyebrow at you, still fiddling with the ring between his fingers. âHelp me move my dresser.â Your eyes dart over to the large piece of furniture across the room and Buckyâs gaze follows. He looks at it for a second as the realization dawns that youâre really asking for manual labor in exchange for agreeing to go back in time for this mission. The fact that youâre going to do it, that youâre going to be the one who does this with him, leaves an unfamiliar calmness settling inside of him and he lets out a deep breath.
           The sounds of furniture scuffling around the room and soft thuds carry on for the next half hour as Bucky uses the serum in his veins to set your room up just how you want it. When everything is finished and you seem satisfied, he walks over to your vanity and drops the last ring into the ceramic tray. Your eyes rake over his bare back, taking in the way there isnât even the slightest sheen of sweat present on his smooth skin. You shouldâve asked him to move your furniture two hours ago when you first started doing it yourself. If youâd known it was so damn easy for him, you mightâve even said please.
           âYou should probably lock your door at night.â Bucky says as he heads toward it. He wraps his hand around the door handle and you watch as the muscles of his flesh arm ripple slightly.
           âWhy? Are you going to keep barging in?â
           âYouâve done that a lot more than I have.â He points out, tugging the door open to reveal the darkened hallway beyond.
           âSo, start locking yours then.â You retort. He can hear you rolling your eyes. A small smile plays on his lips as he steps out into the hall and runs a hand through his messy hair, keeping his back to you.
           âMy doorâs always open for you, sweetheart.â
           âFuck you, Barnes.â You say coldly, just as the door clicks shut between the two of you.
           You canât stand him.
           Sam doesnât let things go easily. Sure, if he was really pushing Buckyâs buttons, he might back off a bit, but he hasnât gone too far yet. Yet.
           âI just want to know how you can go from barely getting along with the woman to demanding that sheâs the one for your little forties self.â Sam says through a smirk. He falls into step next to Bucky as the two of them jog through the heavily wooded trails behind the tower.
           âIf youâre going to keep talking about this, you can finish the run alone.â Bucky threatens, shooting Sam a deathly sideways glare.
           âIâve been telling you for months that there was something between the two of you, and you shot it down every time. I donât get to gloat now?â
           âThereâs nothing to gloat about. There isnât anything between us besides this mission. Youâre reading too far into shit, Sam.â
           âThat super soldier serum didnât teach you how to be a convincing liar, huh?â
           âIâll see you back at the tower.â Bucky says flatly, immediately picking up his pace to an ungodly speed and leaving Sam behind in literal dust.
           Buckyâs ears are filled with the sounds of his feet pounding against the dry dirt path below and his own steady, even breaths as he speeds along the trail. The mission is the only thing between you, he tells himself. There isnât anything else. As much as he wants there to be, as much as he feels something there, you fight against the tension like it suffocates you. You fight against it tooth and nail, pushing Bucky away every time you think he might be getting a little closer to you. Is it just him? If it was someone else running dangerous ops with you, saving your ass regularly, and sitting through stake-outs with you late at night, would you push them away just as hard? Or is it just because that guy is Bucky?
           Thunder rumbles in the distance, tearing Bucky away from his troubling train of thought momentarily. He glances up through the crowded tree branches and catches sight of the gray sky above. He can smell rain in the air, so he picks up the pace a little more, intent on beating it.
           He can still feel the curve of your hip against his vibranium hand and the way every muscle in your body tensed up when he pressed his thumb against the mark on your neck last night. Fuck. Bucky feels beads of sweat forming around his hairline, and itâs not from the hellish pace heâs bent on keeping. His mind falls even further back to that last stakeout. The memory of you moving over the center console of the car and seating yourself on his lap so effortlessly plays out in front of him like a movie. He doesnât even realize how fast heâs running until the tower comes into view a whole lot sooner than he expected it to. With sweat dripping down the back of his neck, he tugs his shirt off and scans his palm at the back entrance to the gym.
           He can feel the weight of your body settling over him, feel your thighs pressing against either of his hips as you straddle his lap. Bucky bites down on his bottom lip as he tugs the door open and glances over his shoulder for any sign of Sam. He lets the door fall closed behind him when he realizes that heâs probably still a couple of miles back in the woods. Lifting the t-shirt thatâs hanging from his right hand, Bucky uses it to wipe the sweat from his brow and neck. Fuck you. Fuck you for acting like youâre oblivious to whatever the hell has been brewing between the two of you for months now. Itâs right in front of your face and yet you act like you canât see a damn thing, like you donât feel a damn thing. Fuck you for giving Bucky just enough of you to fantasize about but not enough to feel satisfied. He heads straight for the locker room, shoving the door open hard as he uses one hand to untie the drawstring of his shorts.
           He wonât let himself do what he needs to do. He comes to stand in front of the mirror, placing his hands on the edge of the sink as he drops his head and sucks in a deep breath. He wonât do it. Bucky lifts his head a bit, looking his reflection in the eye for a moment before flicking the faucet on and splashing a handful of cold water against his flushed face.
           Fuck. Heâs going to do it. Heâs rushing for one of the showers within the next second, turning the hot water on just before he shoves his shorts and boxers down. He steps out of them, already mentally chastising himself for what heâs about to do.
           Heâs only been in the shower for a minute when heat begins to spread down his spine, sending a warmth over the surface of his skin and pushing him to lean forward. He rests his forehead against the cold tile wall of the shower, telling himself that this is pathetic. His flesh hand works quickly, moving back and forth while staying wrapped tightly around the shaft of his cock. A shaky breath snakes past his lips as his eyes flutter closed and his hips piston forward once, twice, three times. He fucks his hand roughly, letting out a low groan when the pad of his thumb brushes against the sensitive spot on the underside of the head of his cock. He hates that this is what heâs resorted to. Never once has he left himself do this with you on his mind. It feels shameful, even offensive. Youâd kick his ass if you ever found out, heâs fucking sure of that. Still, he continues on, working himself up until heâs teetering on the edge of bliss. Itâs the memory of you on his lap in that damn care, letting him tug on your hair and tilt your head back so he could suck on your neck, that almost finishes him. His movements grow sloppy and his breaths come out a little more ragged. He replays the sweet little sound you made when he left that hickey on your skin, when he left his mark on you.
           âShit.â Bucky groans, scrunching his eyes shut even tighter and stroking his cock a little harder. A shudder races through him and he bangs his vibranium fist against the shower wall just as his climax hits. He opens his eyes and watches as ropes of cum paint the tiles. The steamy shower water washes it all away and carries it down the drain within seconds. What a waste.
           Youâve been lying on your stomach in bed ever since you woke up, watching every video you can find that depicts anything remotely close to dancing in the forties. Itâs stressing you the hell out. How long do you have to learn this shit? Does Bucky even remember how to do this? You canât picture him doing something soâŠlighthearted.
           You roll over onto your back, tossing your phone to the opposite side of the bed before pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes and letting out a frustrated groan. Why the hell did you agree to this? Oh, right. The memory of last night starts playing in your mind on a loop. Bucky barged into your room like he had every right to. He sat on your bed. He pushed you up against the vanity andâŠand did absolutely nothing. So, why does your heart race merely at the memory? If it was nothing, why did it feel like something? You let out a louder groan and run your hands through your messy hair, tugging at it a little and feeling the slight stretch of your scalp. Youâre thinking about pulling the covers over your face and going back to sleep for the rest of the rainy morning, but your train of thought shifts over to the contents of the communal fridge in the kitchen down the hall.
           Buckyâs chosen to avoid you today. If what he did in the shower half an hour ago is any indication of the dangerous territory that heâs put himself in, he knows he needs to pump the brakes now. So, he stands in the kitchen, leaning against the edge of the countertop as he sips on a glass of orange juice in near-silence. The sounds of rolling thunder and heavy rain are all he can hear as he tries to ignore the guilt eating away at him. He really fucked his hand simply at the memory of being close to you last night. Heâs in way too fucking deep and he needs to get a grip before this mission really starts. Maybe he shouldâve just let it be Sharon. She probably couldâve pulled it off. Younger Bucky wasnât really all that picky if heâd had a few drinks, and Sharon couldâve easily been coached to put on a personality that Bucky wouldâve been drawn to. But no, he had to make sure it was you. God, heâs kicking himself for it all now.
           He stiffens when he hears your door open down the hall, fighting against the urge to make a dash for the elevator just to avoid you. He glances at the time displayed over the stovetop. Itâs still too early to get ready and rush off for his therapy session, but maybe if he drives really slowly Dr. Raynor wonât have to question why heâs there an hour and a half ahead of time. Bucky lets out a heavy sigh as your footsteps patter down the hall in the distance. Heâs being dramatic. He knows that. He had a moment of weakness in the shower this morning and it was his own fault. He shouldnât have let his thoughts carry him that far and he sure as hell shouldnât have been in your room doing and saying the things he did and said last night.
           When you appear in the main living area, youâre still wearing that damn oversized t-shirt and distinct lack of pants that you were last night, and Bucky stifles a frustrated groan. His eyes roam over your body so quickly that you donât even notice the look as you enter the kitchen and give him a small nod. You tug the fridge open and rummage around for a few seconds as your mind races. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, you can feel warmth creeping into your cheeks, coloring them pink. You hate this. Why the hell did he decide to flip a switch this week? You were fine barely getting along, just giving each other shit in the field and then coming home after missions and going your separate ways for the most part. Why did he have to say all of that shit about it being you that his younger self would want?
           Your appetite dissipates more and more with each passing second, until suddenly youâre shutting the fridge and taking a step back. You see Bucky out of the corner of your eye, sipping on an almost empty glass of orange juice as he studies you.
           âYouâre manipulative.â You say lowly, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to face him. He raises a brow at you and takes another sip from his glass, but says nothing in response. âWhat you did last night wasnât fair.â
           âMoving your furniture around?â He questions, keeping that one brow raised. You can tell by the look in his eyes that heâs being facetious and it pisses you off. Your tongue presses against the inside of your cheek as you look him over. Heâs clearly fresh out of the shower with messy, damp hair. Heâs dressed in dark gray sweats and a navy blue t-shirt that hugs the muscles of his upper body a little too snugly for your liking.
           You could just respond to his question with a verbal answer, you know that. You could just open your mouth and remind him about what it was that he did last night that youâre referring to as being unfair and manipulative. But your feet carry you forward. You move slowly, giving him a multitude of opportunities to step around you and leave the kitchen unscathed. Bucky remains planted there, leaning against the kitchen counter with the glass in his hand. When youâre only a foot away from him, you reach out with your right hand and take hold of the glass. He watches you carefully, with his head slightly cocked to the side as your grip tightens and his loosens. When he lets you fully take the glass from his hand, you lift it to your lips and swallow the last sip of orange juice. Buckyâs cock twitches beneath the fabric of his sweats as he watches your lips retreat from the exact spot that his once pressed against the glass. He bites down on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to dissuade the hardening of his already tired cock.
           âDo you really think Iâm talking about you moving my furniture around?â You ask in a whisper, taking one more step forward until your chest is nearly brushing against his. You reach past him with your right arm and set the glass on the countertop behind him, holding your breath as your bottom lip comes within a centimeter of his chin. You keep your head tilted up, watching his eyes as the distance between you diminishes. âI couldnât possibly be talking about you pushing me up against the vanity and putting your hands on me, right?â His eyes flutter closed and you smirk, feeling satisfied with the effect that youâre clearly having on him. You let both of your hands rest against the edge of the countertop on either side of him and suddenly youâre close enough that when you stop tilting your head upward, the tip of your nose is threatening to brush against the column of his throat.
           âDid that do something for you?â His words come out slightly raspy and it sends an unfamiliar warmth surging low in your stomach. You pull your head back a couple of inches and look up at him through your lashes, tilting your head to the side.
           âNot a damn thing.â You lie. He chuckles darkly and lets out a breath that fans across your face. A smug smile takes over his features and you feel your confidence wavering.
           âRight.â He says absently, as his flesh hand begins to move. You can feel your heart rate doubling as you anticipate his touch, and it infuriates you. Since when does he get this kind of physiological reaction from your body? As his fingertips make light contact with the side of your neck, you inhale sharply and let your eyes fall closed. You want so badly to remain stoic, to look as unbothered as ever as his fingers ghost over the now mostly invisible hickey that he left days ago, but you fail.
           Bucky knows that when he presses his thumb against that spot, just like he did last night, your body will tense up. Even with the alarm bells going off inside his head, with that little voice inside of him screaming for him to run, to do anything but the stupid thing heâs about to do, he canât help himself. His wraps his vibranium around your waist and presses his cool metal palm against the small of your back before tugging you forward. The moment your chest collides with his, he pushes the pad of his thumb against that spot beneath your ear and revels in the feeling of your body tensing against his. Fuck. Heâs in deep, but he wishes he was in so much deeper.
           âNot a damn thing, hm?â He teases, looking down at you as your eyes flutter open.
           âI really canât stand you.â You retort, but you make no move to get out of his hold. Youâre sure that he can feel the dangerously high rate that your heartâs beating at, but still, you stay there against him.
           âI know.â He smirks. He lets his thumb trail down the side of your neck until it reaches your collarbone, and then he moves it right back up to the spot where he first marked you. âBut you agreed to be a part of the mission anyway, so youâre stuck with me for now.â
           âI still think itâs a bad idea.â You point out. Youâre coming to your senses now, realizing just how compromising of a position youâre both in right now and how beyond stupid and careless this is. What are you thinking? You pull your hands up between your two bodies and place your palms against the soft blue fabric of his shirt, getting ready to push yourself away from him. He knows what youâre about to do so he tightens his vibranium arm around your waist and slides his flesh hand back to tangle in your hair.
           âI didnât convince you last night?â He asks roughly, narrowing his eyes at you as if heâs slightly annoyed. You shake your head and push lightly against his chest, not putting any real effort behind your movement. He holds you impossibly tighter against his chest before dipping his head down toward your neck.
           âBucky.â You breathe his name out softly, with no other words coming to your mind.
Heâs feral. Heâs fucking feral. Heâs fighting with every ounce of restraint that he possesses to keep from leaving five more marks on the skin of your neck, just to replace the one thatâs now faded from there. Itâs as if he didnât fuck his hand to completion less than an hour ago, because his cock sure seems to have forgotten. He bites down on his bottom lip before nudging the tip of his nose against the column of your throat. God, he wants to fucking taste you.
âYou know where to find me if you need more convincing.â He says lowly, nipping at your neck one single time before releasing you from his grip and pushing past you. He needs to get the fuck out of here.
           You spend the rest of Saturday morning in bed, just like youâd planned, though you didnât get much sleep. You laid there under the covers, lazily scrolling through your phone, until you heard Buckyâs door opening, closing, and then locking right before he headed for the elevator down the hall. With him out of the tower, you finally felt like you could breathe. So, thatâs what you did. You laid in bed and breathed. You took a nice, deep breath in as you rolled over onto your back and let your hand snake down beneath the waistband of your panties. You let a long breath out as you ran your fingertips through the wetness that had gathered along your folds. Then, you drew a shaky breath in as you circled your middle and ring fingers over your clit, using your own arousal as lube. You donât feel good about what you did to yourself the moment Bucky was out of earshot. You donât feel good about pretending that your hand was really his. You really donât feel good about his name being on the tip of your tongue as an orgasm shook you to your core. But you feel good about the fact that you didnât actually say his name out loud. Thatâs something, right?
           As you put the final finishing touches on your makeup look for the night, you force yourself to push Bucky Barnes far out of reach of your mind. You know that youâll have to deal with him enough come Monday, when thereâs another team meeting about the mission, but for now, you tell yourself that heâs off limits. Heâs off limits and you get to spend the night thinking about anyone and anything else. Maybe thatâs exactly what you should do. Think about anyone else.
           The bar that Sharon chose for tonight is dimly lit and overly full of patrons. You feel like you touch a minimum of three people every time you try to take a step in any direction, so you settle into a cramped booth with your drink and good company, hoping you can get away with sitting there for at least the next hour while the crowd thins out.
           âYou couldâve picked a busier place.â Maria remarks sarcastically, shooting Sharon an annoyed look as they both slide into their seats across from you. You take a long sip of your drink before setting it down on the wooden surface of the table and double-checking that nothing was swiped from your clutch on your way through the bustling bar.
           âYou need to get used to being around normal people, Maria.â Sharon wiggles her eyebrows. âNo gods or mutants or super soldiers, just good old fashioned normal men.â
           âI came here under the impression that this was going to be a girls night.â Maria says as she lifts her drink up to her lips. A mischievous look takes over Sharonâs face and her eyes glimmer as she looks between you both.
           âA girls night where all the girls go home with a plus one.â
           âOh, fuck off, Sharon.â Maria scoffs, shoving her shoulder playfully. Sharon snorts and casts her gaze around the crowded bar, seemingly browsing the vast menu of eligible men. As you follow her line of sight, you notice that there are significantly more men than women here. Including the three of you, you count maybe a total of ten women versus at least fifty men.
           âSharonâŠâ You start, narrowing your eyes as you face her.
           âMaybe I chose a bar thatâs currently having their weekly guys night.â Knowing that both you and Maria are ready to start in on her, Sharon raises a hand and closes her eyes. âBut I did it with a good heart. You both need to get laid.â
           As much as you want to kick her from underneath the table, you know sheâs right. You shake your head as you take another long sip from your drink, and wonder just how many of these you might need before you agree to go home with one of the strangers in this bar.
           âI donât think Iâm the one that needs to get laid tonight.â Maria says quietly, casting a pointed look in your direction. Your eyes widen at her insinuation.
           âWhy are you looking at me when you say that?â
           âYouâre about to spend a whole lot of time with not one, but two Bucky Barnes.â She responds. Sharon nods eagerly, suddenly leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table as she joins Sharon in staring you down.
           âYou need to fuck someone and clear your system before this mission takes off. Make sure youâre going into it with an empty tank, you know?â Youâre sure that Sharonâs mostly joking, but thereâs still an air of seriousness to her words.
           âYou both think that Iâd be tempted by him?â You raise an eyebrow at both of the women before you. They share an indecipherable look between themselves before all eyes are back on you.
           âArenât we all?â
           Bucky doesnât usually pick whiskey. Nowadays heâs more of a beer kind of guy. Especially when he wants to drink a lot and reminisce about the times when he could get drunk. The feel of a cold glass bottle in his hand and the lip of it pressing against his mouth with each sip reminds him of a time when just a few of those would do him in. But tonight, heâs drinking Four Roses.
           As he swirls the amber liquid around in his glass, he scans the packed bar. The crowd is thick, with men heavily outnumbering and swarming the few women that are milling about.
           âI didnât take you three for the guyâs night type.â Mariaâs familiar voice sounds from behind Buckyâs left shoulder. He turns in unison with Sam and Torres. When their backs are to the bar, they all come face to face with Maria Hill. Bucky gives her a subtle up-and-down look, feeling a bit odd seeing her in an outfit that doesnât resemble anything tactical for once.
           âI wouldnât have taken you for the guyâs night type either.â Sam laughs out before taking a sip of his beer.
           âTrust me, Iâm not.â Maria responds with a slight grimace, casting a glance over her shoulder in the general direction of where she came from. Bucky follows her gaze and spots a few booths off to a side wall, but itâs too dim for him to tell which one she might be looking to. He focuses back on her as she pushes between him and Sam to get to the bar. She orders three different drinks in quick succession, but only the last one catches Buckyâs attention. Itâs your drink. âIs that you guys that I feel staring or is it the rest of the sleazy men in this place?â Maria asks jokingly, looking over her shoulder again. Sam and Torres both laugh, but Buckyâs barely paying any attention. Heâs scanning the room again, studying each face with a watchful eye as he searches for you. âTheyâre in the third booth against the far left wall.â Maria says reluctantly, when she catches the look in Buckyâs eye. She may find him attractive as hell, like everyone else does, but she knows heâs essentially off the market. He may hide it well with the constant bickering and brooding façade, but heâs so fucking into you. Maria knows it as well as anybody else. Well, anybody but you. Sometimes she wonders if Bucky himself even knows it.
           Bucky shoots Maria a sideways look and she shakes her head.
           âThey wonât be happy that you guys are crashing girlsâ night.â She clicks her tongue disapprovingly, just as the bartender starts working on her drinks.
           âOh, come on. Theyâll be thrilled.â Sam jokes, immediately heading off in the direction of the booth Maria described. Torres stays with her, but Bucky follows Sam closely. He should be running in the opposite direction. He knows itâd be in his best interest to down the rest of his whiskey and run right out the door. And yet, his feet carry him forward like his entire goal since this morning hasnât been to avoid you.
           You were having a half-decent night before you laid eyes on Bucky Barnes. When he comes into view, wearing one of his signature leather jackets and dark gloves, your heart skips a beat. Youâre sure itâs skipping a beat out of protest rather than anything more meaningful, but still, it skips a damn beat. You donât even hear Samâs initial greeting, or the immediate banter that he and Sharon get into the moment heâs within earshot of the table. In fact, every single sound in the bar seems muffled all of a sudden. Heâs staring at you. Buckyâs looking right into your eyes as he hovers near the end of the table, with his expression as bored and unreadable as ever.
           The intense eye contact is only broken when Maria and Torres appear, and she uses her shoulder to nudge Bucky out of the way so she can set the three drinks down. As soon as she slides the small glass in front of you, the din of the bar is loud again and youâre itching for a higher blood-alcohol level. You down the fresh drink in one long gulp, ignoring the burning in your throat as all eyes fall on you.
           âI think I need something a little stronger.â You say flatly, after clearing your throat and setting your empty glass down on the table. Sharon raises an eyebrow at you but within a second, she re-engages with Sam. Maria and Torres are quick to take your side of the booth the moment you rise to your feet, and Sam slides in next to Sharon. As you saunter off toward the bar, you can hear the sound of Bucky dragging a chair over to the edge of the table to give himself somewhere to sit.
           Bucky canât seem to tear his eyes away from you as you make your way to the bar. Youâre wearing a little black dress that hugs your curves and accentuates every part of you that heâs been trying not to think about all goddamn day. The heels you chose are surely killing your feet with every step you take, but god, they keep drawing his gaze down your legs and then the dress drags him right back up again. The front of Buckyâs jeans have started to feel a bit too tight and his mind is reeling. He wants to pour his glass of whiskey into his eyes. It may be the only way he can stop fucking staring at you.
           Though you feel Buckyâs eyes burning a hole in the back of your head, you refuse to look back. He can stare all he wants, but youâve decided not to give a shit. He messed with your head last night and manipulated you into being a part of next weekâs mission. Then, he messed with your head again this morning, telling you to come find him if you need anymore convincing. What the hell did he mean by that? You swallow hard as you reach the bar, reaching out and grabbing onto the edge of it to steady yourself. Youâre two drinks in now and starting to feel a little buzzed, but you sure as hell wonât be stopping if the guys are sticking around. You order something significantly stronger than your last two drinks and then start fiddling with a stray lock of hair thatâs hanging over your shoulder as you try to look unapproachable. This place feels like a testosterone festival and although Buckyâs stare was the only one you felt at first, youâre acutely aware of quite a few more pairs of eyes on you now.
           Buckyâs aware as well, so fucking aware. He watches with veiled frustration as you become the center of attention over at the bar. He can tell you donât even want the attention simply by your body language, but that doesnât stop men from ogling shamelessly. He knows you can handle yourself, so he bites down on his bottom lip and tries to return his attention to the table, choosing to pick his battles wisely. He tunes into a semi-heated conversation about whoâs worse at holding their liquor amongst everyone at the table, but every now and then, his gaze flits back over to you.
           Two minutes go by before Sam notices the tension seemingly rolling off of Buckyâs broad shoulders. The brooding super soldier sits stiffly in the wooden chair at the end of the table, gripping his whiskey glass so tightly in one gloved hand that Samâs surprised it hasnât shattered under the pressure. When he follows Buckyâs gaze across the room, he finds the source of all of that angsty tension. There you are, looking undeniably gorgeous in that little black dress of yours with a fresh drink in hand as some tall, charismatic guy tries his best to win you over. Sam chuckles under his breath and watches for a moment, noting the way the guy continues getting closer to you every time you lean away from him. He sees the fake smile painted on your face and the way you keep nodding your head in the direction of the table as you speak in short sentences, probably letting the guy know that you have a group waiting for you.
           âGo get your girl, Bucky.â Sam finally says, lifting his half-empty beer bottle in your direction. âHavenât you two been a fake couple at least a hundred times by now? Pretend to be her man and get her out of that.â Bucky winces at the idea. Conversation at the table dies down as everyone starts shifting to get a look at you.
           âWhat do you want me to do?â Bucky asks dryly, taking a long sip of his whiskey as he analyzes Samâs expression over the rim of the glass. âShe can get out of that herself if she wants to.â
           âYeah, or you could make it easy for her.â Sam points out. Bucky turns his head to look at you again and he doesnât like what he sees. The man takes one step closer to you, nearly closing the gap between your bodies entirely. He makes it seem as though he was pushed into you, which you seem to buy given how crowded the bar area still is. You let out a stiff but polite laugh, and then the man rests his right hand on your hip as he leans down and whispers something in your ear. Thatâs enough, Bucky decides. He downs the last of his whiskey before standing up and setting the empty glass on the edge of the table. Heâs moving toward the bar before he has a moment to tell himself to stop. In an instant, his gloves are being tugged off one at a time and shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket.
           Bucky could just shove the guy away from you. He could throw a punch and start a good old-fashioned bar fight, maybe get himself kicked out into the street along the way. He could even waltz up and call you some sweet little pet name, because maybe, just maybe, the guy would be respectful enough to ditch the moment he thinks youâre spoken for.
           But as Buckyâs flesh hand tangles in the hair at the crown of your head and he tugs you back harshly, every other possible way to handle the situation is trampled under his feet. His movements are rough but calculated as he separates you from the guy and places his own body between you. Your lips part and you nearly spill your drink as Bucky uses his hold on your hair to tilt your head up so youâre looking right into his blue eyes.
           âBucky, whatââ The. Fuck.
           With his right hand still fisting your hair and his left moving to wrap around your waist, he pulls you flush against his chest and leans in. You donât realize it, but even in your shocked state, you lean in to meet him. He tilts his head to the side and sucks your bottom lip in between his teeth instantly, barely even kissing you before heâs biting down on it hard enough to draw a gasp from you. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between your parted lips and taste you. Fuck. He didnât mean to do it. He didnât mean to put his tongue in your mouth, but now that itâs there? Fuck, heâs ruined. Bucky kisses you so intensely, so fucking passionately that for a moment, youâre convinced itâs real. It isnât until his grip on your hip falters and he has to pull back to take a breath that you realize why he did it, that you realize it most definitely wasnât real. Youâre fighting to catch your breath as he lets you go and glances over his shoulder, making sure the guy is gone. When he looks back at you, youâre pressing your fingertips to your lips lightly, while clutching your drink in your other hand. Your eyes are wide and your hair messy from his touch. His eyes skate over your face, taking in the way your cheeks and nose are rosy and your pupils are dilated as you stare at him. Bucky runs a hand through his own hair and bites down on his bottom lip. Wait, is heâŠflustered?
           âStop looking at me like that.â He says lowly. As much as you want to give him hell for that stupid stunt, your brain only seems to be able to focus on one thing.
           âYou taste like honey.â Your voice comes out soft but raspy, and your fingertips still ghost over your lips as you speak. Bucky looks taken aback by your response, and he stills for a moment as he looks down at you, his eyes narrowing.
           âYou taste like strawberries.â His gaze darts down to your lips, but then quickly back up to your eyes. Shaking your head to snap yourself out of whatever trance youâve found yourself in, you brush past Bucky, making a break for the table.
           Bucky needs a fucking minute. With your scent swirling around him and the ghost of your mouth on his, he needs a minute to adjust the raging hard-on heâs sporting and gather himself. What the fuck did he do that for? Heâs gritting his teeth as he turns on his heel and heads for the bathrooms off to the side of the bar. When he steps foot in the menâs room, he scans the floor of each stall quickly, making sure heâs completely alone before locking the door to the entire bathroom and moving to stand in front of the large mirror displayed across the wall of sinks. Strawberries. Bucky stares down at the ceramic sink in front of him as his hands move to grip onto the edge of it. He fights the urge to break it into a million little pieces as he licks his lips, picking up a hint of your taste. Lifting his head and catching his own gaze in his reflection, he bites down on his bottom lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. The twinge of pain is enough to snap him out of whatever the hell kind of haze heâs in, and he flicks the sink on with his flesh hand. After washing his hands, he splashes a bit of cold water on his face before drying up with a few paper towels. He doesnât leave the bathroom without adjusting his cock, tucking the head of it beneath the waistband of his boxers and pants to ensure his unchecked arousal wonât be noticed by anyone.
           With lively conversation passing back and forth across the table, no one seems to notice the thick tension brewing between you and Bucky. You havenât glanced at him once since he came back from the menâs room looking utterly unbothered by the display of public deception that heâd put on just moments earlier.
           Bucky steals looks at you throughout the evening as you go through three of your usual drinks and two shots of vodka with Maria and Sharon. He notices that you smile a lot more when you have some alcohol in your system. You also look at him a hell of a lot less, and he hates that. He canât seem to go more than a minute or two without searching you out, while you donât even seem to notice that heâs still in the bar. He watches with a knotted stomach as two other guys attempt to move in on you when youâre up at the bar with the girls, but the knot unties itself when he sees you quickly turn them both down. Why hadnât you done that with the first guy earlier tonight? A weird sensation bubbles up in his chest as he wonders if maybe youâd actually been attracted to the man you were talking to before Bucky stormed over and stuck his tongue in your mouth. Did you only turn the last two men down because you were worried that Bucky would try to kiss you again?
           As much as you wouldâve liked to avoid looking at Bucky all night, your plan is thwarted when Sharon ends up a little past tipsy and Maria decides to Uber back to her apartment early. Not wanting to wrangle a semi-drunk Sharon in an Uber by yourself, you accept Samâs offer for a ride. With Sam driving and Torres immediately sliding into the passenger seat, you push Sharon into the backseat on the passengerâs side and shut her door. You watch with a small smile playing on your lips as she promptly leans against the door and closes her eyes. Youâre sure sheâll be asleep before Sam ever pulls up to her apartment complex.
           You cross around the backside of the car to find Bucky standing, holding the other back door open for you. You glance inside, noting the small middle seat and shake your head.
           âIâm not sitting in the middle.â You say stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. A small shiver wracks through your body as the chilly night air blows over your exposed skin. Buckyâs shrugging his jacket off before he even realizes it. When he holds it out to you, you look at it warily, but another cold breeze wafts by and you reach out and grab it. Draping it over your shoulders, you narrow your eyes at him. âIâm still not sitting in the middle.â
           âYes, you are.â He responds roughly, resting his left forearm on top of the open door as his right hand moves to rest on his hip.
           âNo, Iâm not.â Youâre aware of the fact that you sound like two children arguing over something so trivial, but still, you maintain your stance. Bucky bites the inside of his cheek before stepping back and pushing the door shut. You hear Sam shout something out of confusion, probably wondering what the hell you two are doing out there in the cold delaying the ride home, but you both ignore him.
           âYou kissed me back.â He says in a low, raspy voice, making sure no one in the car could possibly make out his words. Your eyes widen and you pull his leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, trying to ignore the way his scent is rolling off of it and surrounding you.
           âYou put your tongue in my mouth.â You respond stiffly, glancing over your shoulder at the car.
           âIâd do it again if it would shut you up and make you get in the car.â
           âSounds like youâre looking for an excuse.â You say, letting out a fake laugh. Bucky rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your accusation.
           âYou really think Iâd look for an excuse to do that again?â Bucky asks, taking a step toward you and reaching past your body for the door handle. When heâs close enough to you that his lips are nearly grazing against the shell of your ear, your eyes flutter closed. âI think we both know I wouldnât need one.â
           Bucky tugs the door open just as you open your eyes and look into his.
           âGet in the damn car.â He says authoritatively, holding the door open as you glare at him. You want to dig in your heels and stand on the curb until the sun rises in the morning, but with how cold you are and how late it is, you know youâre fighting a losing battle. You give Bucky a look that could kill as you slide into the middle seat and let out a frustrated sigh. You use his jacket to cover your legs and maintain what little body heat you have left. When Bucky slides in after you and pulls the door shut, Samâs driving off before either of you have buckled your seatbelts. Bucky fastens his own before noticing that youâre not making a move to buckle yours, so he takes matters into his own hands. He leans over you and grasps the seatbelt in his flesh hand as he brings his lips close to your ear again, lowering his voice to a whisper. âAlways so fucking stubborn.â
           With every little curve and bump in the road, Buckyâs leg brushes against yours and you tense up each time. Youâre always quick to pull your leg away and back toward the middle of the floorboard, until you start to notice that he never pulls his away. You stare out of the windshield ahead as Sam weaves through the city, heading toward Sharonâs downtown apartment. When you turn your head and glance over at her, sheâs sound asleep with her mouth wide open as her head rests against the door beside her. Another bump jostles the car and Buckyâs leg collides with yours, but instead of pulling away this time, you stay still. As the heat of his leg permeates the thick fabric of his jeans and warms your bare knee, you find yourself relaxing a little. It really is way too cold to be wearing such a tiny dress.
           Buckyâs gaze is fixed outside of his window, but he can feel you letting your head fall back to rest against the headrest behind. He tries not to move too much, sensing that youâre somewhat thankful for his body heat warming your leg and side. Itâs cold as shit tonight and you picked what has to be the thinnest dress in your wardrobe. If he didnât love it on you so much, heâd have told you that you were fucking stupid for risking hypothermia by wearing it.
           You let your eyes fall closed as goosebumps prickle across the skin of your arms and you lean back against the headrest. Sharonâs apartment is just another ten minutes away, and then the tower will be an extra thirty on top of that. If you clear your head and pretend like the man beside you is merely a stranger in a shared Uber, and not someone whose tongue was in your mouth only an hour ago, you might be able to get a little sleep before youâre home. But Buckyâs leather jacket sits heavy over your thighs, and his intoxicating scent swirls around the backseat, begging to be inhaled. Heâs not a stranger. Heâs a fucking coworker who left a hickey on your neck and what feels like a black hole in your gut after offering up some kind of half-baked confession of attraction a couple of days ago. Younger me would fucking swoon. Who the hell says something like that to a girl who thought she was the last person heâd ever be into? Does he get off on looks of confusion and bewilderment?
           The car tires screech against asphalt as Sam slams on the brakes and the car struggles to meet his demand. Youâre lurching forward in an instant, the seatbelt pulling coarsely across your chest as it locks and holds you in your seat. But it isnât the sudden unexpected stop that has everything moving in slow motion. Itâs Buckyâs hand gripping your mid-thigh tightly over the fabric of his leather jacket. As your back thumps against the seat and your eyes dart out toward the windshield ahead, you see that Sam narrowly avoided running a red light with a traffic camera posted on the street corner. He mumbles something about refusing to get another citation, but your ears are ringing as you cast your gaze downward. Buckyâs hand is still right there, his knuckles nearly turning white with how hard his fingers are digging into your leg. For a moment, a fleeting moment, you let yourself think about how nice his touch feels. You can feel the warmth of his palm even through the leather jacket covering your legs and the chill in your body begins to dissipate. In reality, heâs only been holding onto your thigh for two seconds, but it feels like itâs been two minutes. You let out a shaky breath as the stoplight turns green and Sam starts driving past it. Buckyâs grip loosens and he starts to withdraw his hand, but something within you stops him. Youâre reaching out and grabbing his hand in yours, tugging it back to your thigh and resting it atop the leather jacket again. Neither one of you turns to look at the other. You both stare straight ahead, silently letting the moment play out.
           It feels as though a fireâs been ignited deep in Buckyâs chest. As you move your hand away from his, he has to turn his head and look out the window to keep from looking down at where heâs touching you. If he gets a glimpse of where his hand is at right now, he wonât be able to scrub the image from his mind no matter how hard he tries. And his hand is only on your damn thigh. He takes even breaths through his nose as he watches the city lights dance around outside. He estimates that Sharonâs apartment complex is less than ten minutes away. What happens after those ten minutes? Will you push his hand away and pretend like the moment never happened?
           Each passing minute feels longer and longer as Buckyâs hand remains heavy on your thigh. Two minutes go by before he starts alternating between squeezing your leg and letting his hand rest loosely atop the jacket across your lap. When you reach the third minute, your cheeks are flushed pink and sparks are igniting throughout your body at the slightest touch. There arenât many thoughts floating around in your head now, which is probably why itâs so easy for you to slide your hand over his and quietly guide it beneath the fabric of the jacket. He doesnât resist. He doesnât pull his hand away or fight your movement, and when you feel the warmth of his palm pressing against the bare skin of your thigh, you withdraw your own hand and cover his with the jacket carefully. Buckyâs clenching his teeth as he grips your leg and scrapes his trimmed, blunt nails along the inside of your thigh. He feels you shudder against his touch, but then you seem to press into him a little closer and he canât fucking breathe. The backseat of this car is suddenly feeling too damn small for either of you, and he wants nothing more than to drag you out at the next red light and find the nearest alley with a brick wall he can back you into.
           Sheâs just cold. Bucky keeps reminding himself that thatâs why youâre letting him do this, that thatâs why youâre encouraging him to touch you this way. But are you really that cold? Your skin feels almost overheated beneath his hand. He grips your leg again and then starts drawing lazy circles with his fingertips along your inner thigh. He never once tries to move his hand any higher or lower than the exact spot that you placed it in. Youâre having a hard time figuring out if that excites you or disappoints you, especially when all you can do is focus on keeping your breathing unnoticeable and eyeing the three other people in the car to make sure no one is the wiser.
           The tension in the backseat of the car is so thick that you could cut it with a knife by the time Samâs pulling into a parking spot in front of Sharonâs building. Buckyâs fingertips dig into the skin of your thigh one last time before he drags his hand out from underneath the jacket and back to his own lap. You start to unbuckle so you can help Sharon out of the car and up to her apartment, but Sam shakes his head at you in the rearview mirror and pushes his own door open quickly.
           âWeâre not going to make you walk her all the way up there when youâre in heels.â Sam tsks, signaling for Torres to hop out as well. âWeâll take her up and get her settled, just stay in the car.â
           âAre you sure? I could do it, she can probably walk fine, sheâs just sleepy.â You say softly, glancing over at Sharon as she begins to stir. She shoots you a sideways smile and starts unbuckling her seatbelt with sloppy movements.
           âDonât say that, let them carry me.â Sharon jokes, slurring nearly every single word she speaks. You laugh lightly before pushing a bit of her blonde hair away from her face and leaning over her to open the door on her side.
           âFine, but donât give them too much trouble.â You concede, watching as Torres takes both of her hands and helps her out of the car. You find your heart racing as she straightens herself up and takes just enough steps forward for Torres to shut the door again, leaving you and Bucky alone in the dark car. You let out a shaky breath as you watch Sam, Torres, and Sharon all move further and further away from the car. You donât move a muscle. You stay seated right there in the middle of the backseat, painfully aware of how your left side is still brushing against Buckyâs right side.
           Buckyâs sitting stiffly in his seat, wondering if you can hear how hard his heart is thumping against his ribcage right now. His eyes flit downward to where his leather jacket has shifted off of your lap a bit and the skin of the thigh that he was just toying with is now exposed. Gritting his teeth, he reaches over slowly and pinches the edge of the jacket with his fingertips before dragging it back up to cover your lap entirely. Your head moves quickly, tilting downward to watch what heâs doing. You swallow thickly as thoughts start swirling around in your head. Itâs a mixture of sane, rational thoughts about thanking him for the jacket and dirty, irrational thoughts about putting his hand back where it was before the car stopped here. Even as your mind is formulating a coherent sentence to spit out, you know you should sit here quietly and act like nothing happened. You know so much better than to speak when tensions are running this high, and yetâŠ
           âI did kiss you back.â The words roll off of your tongue so quietly that you fear Bucky might not even have heard them. But when he stops staring out his window and drops his gaze down to where his hands rest in his lap, you know he heard you.
           âYou did.â He says just as quietly, shifting in his seat a bit. You let out a soft sigh and glance over at the empty seat beside you. You know itâll look a bit odd to Sam and Torres when they get back to the car and see you still sitting in the middle of the backseat. Youâre thinking about sliding over and buckling yourself in when movement catches your eye. Buckyâs flesh hand reaches over slowly, and his fingertips take hold of the edge of his jacket just like they did a moment ago, but instead of making sure the fabric covers your thighs, his moves it further down your legs this time. Your breath hitches in your throat as he pushes it down just an inch, revealing the hem of your short dress and the tiniest bit of skin across the tops of your thighs. Goosebumps prickle across your skin, but it has little to do with the fact that youâre still a bit cold. âI put my tongue in your mouth.â He rasps. Youâre frozen in place as he starts tracing the hem of your dress with the tip of his index finger. His words hang in the air, swirling around with the thick tension like a heavy fog early in the morning. Bucky leans in as you stare down at his hand. He leans in until his forehead is nearly touching the side of your face and his lips are ghosting around the shell of your ear. âWould I need an excuse to do it again?â
           As your eyes flutter closed and you suck in a deep breath, Bucky can only think of one thing. He can only think about how fucking perfect it felt to have you kissing him back, to push his tongue past your lips and really taste you for the first time. Of all the times heâs kissed you for undercover missions, it was never like that. He never dared to let his tongue get involved, not until tonight. Now he fears he might be ruined.
           Youâre thinking about the same damn thing. Youâre thinking about how he tasted like honey and citrus and vanilla all jumbled together. Youâre replaying the feeling of him fisting his hand in your hair and pulling you toward him in a way that shouldâve done nothing other than piss you off.
           Neither of you realizes that youâre both glancing toward the apartment building entrance at the same time, both checking to see if Sam and Torres are anywhere nearby. Are you really about to do this? You finally turn your head to face Bucky, and find him already staring at you intensely. His blue eyes reflect the tiniest bit of light from a street lamp in the distance, and you swear you can see something akin to flames dancing around in his gaze. He stares back at you for one, two, three seconds before the tension hanging in the air between you both shatters. In a flash, youâre shoving the leather jacket onto the floor and moving toward Bucky just as heâs grabbing you by the waist and tugging you toward him. Your lips meet before your bodies do and youâre kissing him so desperately that you almost feel a bit of shame. Youâre acting like a horny teenager having her first bit of alone time with a guy on prom night, but as your dress hikes even higher up your hips and Bucky settles you not over his lap, but over his right thigh, every trace of shame disappears. Youâre straddling the toned muscles of his thigh as he curls his fingertips against your scalp and takes a handful of your hair in his fist.
           âYou like when I do this, donât you?â He asks lowly, nipping at your jawline as he pulls on your hair just enough to tilt your head back. A soft whimper escapes you and you grind down on his thigh, feeling just the right amount of friction as the fabric of your panties meets his jeans. He falters for a second and looks down, his grip on your hair loosening as you grind against his leg again. âFuck, donât do that.â He growls, squeezing your hip with his vibranium hand to make sure youâll be still.
           âBut it feels so fucking good.â You whisper, fighting against his vibranium hand and dragging your clothed cunt against his thigh again. A guttural sound crawls up his throat and he pulls you in for a kiss, sliding his tongue past your lips instantly. Thereâs that honey taste again. He doesnât try to stop you this time when you grind down, so you keep doing it over and over again for a few seconds, giving your clit exactly enough friction to elicit a sense of pleasure. If his side of the backseat was bigger, youâd settle yourself over his lap and grind on the bulge that you know is hiding behind the zipper of his jeans, but youâll take what you can get.
           âIs that enough for you?â Bucky asks roughly, the second he pulls away from your lips and glances down at where youâre grinding on his thigh once again.
           âTheyâll be back any minute.â You whisper. You place your hands on his shoulders as you crane your neck to glance back at the apartment building again, ensuring Sam and Torres are still out of sight.
           âSay it isnât enough.â
           âBuckyââ Both of his hands move down your back and he cups your bare ass beneath the fabric of your dress, squeezing hard enough to leave red fingerprints in your skin. He leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your neck before dragging the tip of his tongue up toward your ear and biting down on your earlobe softly. âIt isnât enough.â You moan out as your back arches and your chest presses against his. Bucky lets out a groan before reaching down with one hand and unbuckling his seatbelt. The thin strap moves between your two bodies quickly before clicking against the door, and then Buckyâs wrapping one arm around your lower back and moving to lay you down in the backseat. He hovers over you as your legs spread a bit to accommodate him, and then he sinks down on top of you. Thereâs something about feeling the full weight of a man over you that makes it hard to think rationally. Thatâs why when you feel the outline of his hard cock press against your damp panties, your back arches and his name leaves your lips in such a desperate, sultry moan. Thatâs why you let him grind and rut against you relentlessly for at least thirty seconds, listening to the sounds of his grunts and heavy breaths as he buries his face in your neck and moves his hips rhythmically. Thatâs why you let yourself get so dangerously close to an orgasm that youâre circling your own hips against his. Itâs because youâre not thinking rationally, not one tiny bit.
           You donât hear it, but Bucky does. He hears the distant click as the door to Sharonâs apartment building swings open. He knows he only has a few seconds left before Sam and Torres will be close enough to see the car, so he presses his hips into you one last time, making sure you feel the entirety of his hard length against your clothed cunt before he looks down into your eyes and memorizes the look of pleasure on your face. He kisses you one last time, savoring the taste of your lips and letting his tongue dance with yours for one fleeting moment. Then, heâs pulling himself away from you and grabbing your hands to pull you back into a sitting position beside him. Youâre in a daze as he leans down and scoops his leather jacket up off of the floor. The sound of Sam and Torresâ voices ring out in the distance and you move yourself to the seat Sharon had previously occupied, quickly smoothing out your dress and hair before buckling yourself in. Bucky holds the jacket out to you just as Sam and Torres are nearing the car, and you take it, draping it over your lap carefully.
           Sam and Torresâ incessant small talk is the only sound to be heard as the car carries you all back to the compound. Youâre keeping your legs tightly crossed and your hands folded neatly in your lap as you stare out your window and try to avoid thinking about what just happened. Adrenaline is still surging through your veins, almost cancelling out the alcohol in your system. On top of that, the sexual frustration that you feel from having not finished what you and Bucky so recklessly started in the backseat is giving you a bit of an attitude. You chew on the inside of your cheek as the damp panties trapped between your thighs begin to feel uncomfortable and the gravity of what you just did, what you wouldâve done if Sam and Torres hadnât showed up when they did, begins to set in.  Youâre compromising not just the upcoming mission, but your entire working relationship with a damn good partner. And for what? Not even an orgasm. He didnât even give you that. You have no doubt that he would have if youâd had the time for it. Hell, you were pretty damn close to one with him grinding against you like that and those sounds he was making. Your mind starts to float back into dangerous territory and you bite the inside of your cheek a little harder, nearly drawing blood. You shudder at the sensation of pain, but continue staring out the window, wishing Sam would drive just a little bit faster.
           He could cum right now. Bucky could actually cum in his jeans right now, and itâs been a solid ten minutes since he even looked in your direction. His cock is still painfully hard and fighting against the front of his jeans, threatening to pop the zipper if he doesnât free it soon. He glances around Samâs headrest to see that heâs already doing five over the speed limit. Still, itâs not fast enough. Not when you just did what you did, and youâre sitting only a foot away with Buckyâs scent all over you. Actually, thatâs not even the worst of it. The worst of it all is the fact that you left wet spots on his thigh and over the crotch of his jeans, both of which hold the scent of your arousal. Bucky lets out a heavy sigh and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting the seatbelt over his lap so it wonât restrict his cock any more than it needs to. He catches you turning your head in his direction out of the corner of his eye, but he doesnât dare look back at you. Screwing his eyes shut, he pinches the bridge of his nose with his flesh index finger and thumb as he presses his head back against the headrest. He can survive the last twenty minutes left in this car ride, but as soon as the car pulls up to the tower, heâs getting the fuck out of here.
           Sam, ever the courteous and thoughtful designated driver, let you, Bucky, and Torres all out of the car right at the front entrance to the tower before heading off to park the car in the underground garage. Bucky almost decided to stay in the car and take the ride down to the garage with Sam, just to keep from being stuck in the elevator with you. However, it turns out that Torres is pretty damn good at icing over the fiery tension in a small space. Bucky is leaned against the back wall of the elevator, staring at the leather jacket hanging off of your shoulders as you stand a few feet in front of him. Youâre so close to the metal doors that if you stuck your tongue out, youâd probably be licking them. Torres stands oblivious off to one side, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly as the elevator carries the three of you closer and closer to the main living quarters.
           âHave you two gotten started on the dancing lessons yet?â He asks casually, without looking up from his phone. You say nothing. You stay still, staring at the metal in front of your face as the elevator continues on. Bucky clears his throat lightly and you hear him shift somewhere behind you.
           âTomorrow.â Bucky replies stiffly, offering no more than that single word. You turn your head the tiniest bit to see Torres nod, still looking down at the device in his hands.
           âSaving it for the last minute?â He jokes. Your eyes dart upward and you see that youâre only a few floors away from the living quarters. âFury wants you guys back in the past within the next two days.â You swallow hard at the reminder as an uneasy feeling settles in your gut.
           âThere isnât going to be much to teach.â Buckyâs tone is flat, but still somewhat polite. You see Torres nod in your peripheral vision, and then the elevator is dinging and itâs slowing to a stop. Youâre hurrying out the second the doors begin sliding open. You hear Torresâ phone ring and he mumbles something about taking the call down in the conference room, but youâre already halfway through the main living area. Your heels click against the hard floor as you make your way toward the dark hall, refusing to look back at the super soldier who can only be a few yards behind you.
           âYou donât have to walk so damn fast.â Bucky mutters, watching you storm ahead. Youâre still about ten feet from your door when you slow down and turn on your heel. Now youâre standing there looking at him as he continues walking toward his own door at a normal pace. You stand there and stare at the man you didnât want to look at for another second tonight. Heâs nothing but danger and bad decisions and youâre learning not to trust yourself around him anywhere but in the field.
           âMy feet hurt.â You say matter-of-factly, narrowing your eyes at him. You watch as he comes within a couple of feet of you and turns left to face his door thatâs right across from yours. âI want to take off these heels and this dress and shower and justâŠâ Your voice trails off and you catch Bucky looking over his shoulder at you with a raised brow. âAnd just sleep this off.â You finish, making it clear that youâre talking about whatever it is thatâs between you right now. He turns to face you right as youâre turning your back to him and reaching for your own door handle.
           âSleep it off, huh?â He scoffs, noting that youâre still keeping his leather jacket draped over your shoulders. âWhatever this is, itâll just be gone in the morning?â You keep your hand on the downturned door handle but you pause, not yet pushing the door open fully. You shrug your shoulders and Bucky watches as his jacket moves up and down once around your frame. âKinda hard to forget what happened tonight if you wake up and see my leather jacket beside your bed in the morning.â  You snort out an amused laugh before casting a glare at Bucky over your shoulder.
           âMaybe you should take your jacket back then.â You respond calmly. As youâre facing your door, letting your head turn forward once again, you hear Bucky shuffling behind you slowly. A chill spreads beneath the surface of your skin as he grows closer and closer, until his body heat is enveloping you and his proximity has your hand faltering on the door handle. When he comes to a stop right behind you, so close that one deep breath from you would have your back pressing against his chest, he braces himself against your doorframe. Both of his arms are outstretched, his hands grasping the doorframe on either side of you as he leans in close to your ear, just as heâs done so many times tonight.
           âBut it looks so damn good on you.â He coos, taking a chance to inhale your sweet scent after he speaks. His breath tickles the side of your face as the wetness in your panties suddenly feels a little less uncomfortable and a little more exciting. Youâd like to say your body is beyond your control when you draw in a deep breath and let go of the door handle. When you let your palms glide over the surface of your door and arch your back just enough to push your ass against the front of Buckyâs jeans. Youâre met with the same hard-on he was rubbing all over your clothed cunt in the car just a little while ago and warmth pools low in your stomach. Buckyâs hips lean in, pressing himself against your ass a little harder as his flesh knuckles turn white and his vibranium hand whirs with exertion against the doorframe. He gives you a chance to open the door and disappear for the rest of the night, but when you circle your hips back against him a second time, his hands quickly move down to your hips and he pushes your front into the door firmly. He crowds in behind you, dragging his lips over the skin of your neck as you tilt your head to the side. He makes sure your bodies never part as he kisses down the column of your throat and bites down lightly on your collarbone. You grind your ass into him one more time and his control starts slipping.
           âKeep that up and Iâll fuck you against this goddamn door.â Bucky rasps against your neck, tightening his hold on your hips to keep you from grinding anymore. You wriggle in his grasp, but he only curls his fingers against your dress even more, before dragging his lips back up toward your ear. âYouâll wake up tomorrow wondering why the fuck you canât walk.â
           âIâd blame the heels.â You whisper, surprising yourself at the fact that youâre going along with this. But everything heâs saying, everything heâs doing makes it hard for you to think straight. Bucky lets out a surprisingly gentle, genuine laugh before letting go of your hips and tugging his jacket off of your shoulders. He steps back suddenly, leaving you a bit cold and wanting for his touch. You turn around to watch as he walks over to his own door and pushes it open. âThatâs it? You just walk away after that?â
           âYou canât stand me, remember?â He replies. You can hear his smirk showing through his tone. âShould be easy for you to sleep it off.â
           With that last line, Buckyâs shutting his door and youâre left in the dark hallway alone. You have half a mind to kick his door in and ruin your pretty heels, but the other half of you knows heâs doing the right thing. What did you really want him to do? If youâd invited him in and spent the night with him, you have no doubt that your professional life wouldâve gone to shit before the end of the week. If heâd invited you in, or even worse, fucked you against right there in the hall like heâd said, the outcome wouldâve been the same. You canât mix work and play. You know that all too well. But why is it turning out to be so damn fun to blur the lines with him?          Â
           You take your time peeling off your dress and heels, soaking in a long, hot shower, and then getting ready for bed. By the time youâre flicking off the bathroom lights and pulling back the plush covers on your bed, itâs already a bit past one in the morning and the aching between your legs hasnât ceased. You refuse to indulge your fantasies after having already made yourself orgasm once within the last twenty-four hours at the mere thought of the man across the hall. Twice would be too much, way too much when youâre actively trying to tell yourself that you need to start keeping things strictly professional with him. You choose to lie in bed and scroll through your phone for a bit, but still, Bucky remains at the forefront of your mind.
           Bucky vows not to touch his cock in the shower ever again. Tonight was the last time. As he towels himself dry and avoids looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, heâs surprised at the fact that he doesnât feel so much shame this time. He has a feeling you mightâve even been flattered by just how much cum ended up being washed down the drain after he thought of nothing but you as he stroked himself. Okay, maybe thatâs wishful thinking. But seriously, with the things you did to himâŠwith him tonight, he knows that you wouldnât have kicked his ass for what he had to do in the shower. He has a feeling you mightâve even been tempted to do something like that for yourself after you parted ways.
           One text. Thatâs all you need to send to give yourself a little peace of mind and maybe set things back on the right track with Bucky. Itâs why youâre staring at the typed out message on your phone screen and your thumb is hovering over the send button. Itâs late. Maybe too late to be sending him a text. But you feel like you have to do it. Youâll clear things up now and tomorrow everything will go back to normal, or as normal as things can be before a mission like this. When you hit send, let out a deep breath and let your head fall back on your pillow a bit dramatically.
           When Buckyâs phone vibrates on his nightstand, heâs rolling over and grasping it in one hand almost instantly. Holding it over his face and quickly dimming the brightness of his lock screen, he sees your name at the top of the notification and he narrows his eyes. How many times have you texted him since youâve started working together? Once? Maybe twice? His heart thumps a little harder than it previously had been as he unlocks his phone and reads your message. You donât need any more convincing? His tongue darts out and wets his lips as he sends his overly simple response through.
           Two question marks. Thatâs all you see as you stare at his text. Heaving a sigh, you type out a slightly longer message, making sure youâre abundantly clear. You need to make sure that he knows he doesnât have to keep going with whatever act this is that heâs been putting on the last couple of days. If heâs only been fucking around with you to convince you that youâre the one his 40s self would approach in a bar, he doesnât have to keep doing it. Youâre thoroughly convinced. Itâs only a few seconds after youâve sent your message that you see the little gray typing bubbles pop up on his end of the message window.
           You watch those three little dots with bated breath as your thumbs hover over your phone screen. When his final text comes through, your heart rate nearly doubles and warmth rushes up to color your cheeks a soft shade of pink.
           Shit. You exhale noisily, before clicking your phone off and setting it on your nightstand. Your mind starts rushing back to all of the missions youâve worked together, all of the times you bantered back and forth or argued and yet, every mission was carried out seamlessly. Was the tension between you two something that youâve been misreading up until now? Had you been mistaking it for the type of tension felt between two people who donât really get along, when all of this time it was that kind of thick, suffocating tension that you only find between two people who are oblivious as to how right for each other they really are?
           You wrap yourself up in your bedsheets and let the darkness of your room envelope you. No fucking way. You do not have feelings for James Bucky Barnes. And even more than that, he most definitely does not have feelings for you. Thereâs simply no way.
           When you finally drift off to sleep, what happened in the car on the way back from the bar replays in your dreams on a loop, growing slightly filthier with each rerun. You wake up three hours in with a pillow wedged between your legs and your hips instinctively grinding down into it in search of friction. You wake up a second time just before sunrise and you almost canât take the ache between your legs.
           If you really couldnât stand him, if this was really nothing, you wouldâve been able to sleep it off. And that scares the shit out of you.
           Glimmers of early morning sunlight peek through your curtains, casting your room in a hazy yellow glow. Stretching out your legs beneath the covers, you rub the sleep from your eyes and blink a few times. Your gaze settles on the white ceiling above and you notice a slight twinge of pain behind your eyes as a headache begins to set in.
           The night before replays in your mind, almost like a highlight reel, as you push the covers back and move to sit up on the side of your bed. You see yourself being pulled away from that stranger in the bar, being pulled to Buckyâs chest as he kissed you like you belonged to him and no one else. You squeeze your eyes shut and massage your temples with the middle and index fingers of your right hand. You see Buckyâs hand on your thigh in the car, and then him lying you down in the back seat before crawling on top of you andâŠfuck.
           Tonight had nothing to do with convincing you. His last text to you from just a few hours ago is displayed across a billboard in the forefront of your mind. You rush through pulling on an outfit for the gym, settling on a lazy hairstyle and light makeup to hide the dark circles under your eyes from the poor sleep you got last night. It might be Sunday and you might not have much to do today, but you know good and well that sitting here in your room is only going to send you straight into a spiral of thoughts you donât need to be dwelling on right now.
           You listen carefully through your door, straining to detect any sounds that might let you know someone else is up and about this early. When youâre sure the coast is clear, you make a dash for the elevator and ride it all the way down to the gym.
           Samâs sitting in the conference room with Fury and a very hungover Sharon just a little past eight. Heâd probably be laughing if she didnât look so miserable. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail and the dark circles under her eyes are aging her by about five years. He can tell her head must be throbbing by the way she keeps squinting at the bright lights overhead and glancing over at the light switch across the room. Maybe he shouldâve made an effort to end the fun a little earlier last night, but in his defense, none of you really made an effort to do that. Besides, he had no idea Fury would want to see them first thing on a Sunday morning.
           âWeâll be sending you in tomorrow to bring Peggy Carter up to speed and establish a safehouse for the mission.â Fury explains slowly, eyeing Sharon as he speaks. She nods along, keeping her hands folded in her lap beneath the table. âYouâll have one day to get it done.â
           âIt wonât be a problem.â Sharon affirms confidently, letting her eyes shift between Fury and Sam. âOne day is plenty of time. What stipulations do you have for the safehouse?â
           âAs long as they have a place to sleep and a door to lock at night, I donât care. Whatever Peggy can help you find is going to have to do. Theyâll only be there for two nights.â Fury responds. His phone chimes and he quickly stands up from the table, pushing his chair in gently. He casts Sam and sideways glance as he heads for the door.
           âMaybe donât take her out drinking tonight.â Fury advises, letting out a half-hearted laugh as he reaches for the door handle. âAnd let me know how those dance lessons go later. If those two canât get along long enough to make it through one song, I have half a mind to scrap the whole damn mission.â
           âThey got along pretty well last night.â Sam snorts, remembering the way Bucky kissed you in the bar. Sure, he was the one that encouraged him to do it, but Sam knows for damn certain that it was anything but fake. He wonders for a moment just how complicated this mission might end up being with the two of you being thrust into the past without backup readily available. Youâve always worked well on missions before, but this is so different. This is the kind of mission thatâll make or break a partnership, and heâs very much aware that your partnership is somewhere on a tightrope between being rock solid and completely falling apart at the seams. If he had to place a bet, heâd say neither of you come back from this one the same as when you went in. Somethingâs going to change.
           It doesnât feel real. As you stand on a platform that looks like something straight out of a sci-fi movie, wearing a quantum suit in the darkest shade of black youâve ever seen, you feel a bit like an imposter. It should be Sharon in your position right now. You know she was just in this same spot yesterday, heading back in time to establish a safehouse and make the first contact with Peggy Carter, but still. Who the hell decided that youâre qualified not only to run ops in this century, but to send you back to the last one to run an op as well?
           âHey.â Bucky says quietly, drawing you out of your spiraling thoughts. You turn your head to the right and take in the sight of him as he takes the few steps up onto the platform. He moves to stand directly in front of you, taking in the apprehension written all over your face. You tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and let out a shaky breath as you meet his gaze. âJust another mission.â He assures you, keeping his voice low so only you can hear it. You nod, but youâre sorely unconvinced. This is not just another mission. You know it and he knows it.
           âIt shouldâve been Sharon.â You mumble, averting your gaze and choosing to watch Bruce, Scott, and Torres as they work seamlessly behind a table of screens and electronic devices. Bucky shakes his head and narrows his eyes at you, but you refuse to look at him again.
           âOkay, let me hit a few main points before we do this.â Bruce says suddenly, clapping his oversized, green hands together as he approaches the edge of the platform. âYou have one roundtrip each, please make every effort to come back from this together. You can come back earlier if you have to but for the love of all things scientific, donât come back later than planned. What feels like five minutes to you might be fifteen years here.â
           âBucky, youâll keep your watch on at all times in the past. Take that thing off and lose it and youâre stuck in the forties, which I get might not be all that unappealing to a man whoâs over a hundred years old, but stillâŠkeep it on.â Scott says pointedly. You glance down at your own time-space GPS device. While Buckyâs does resemble a normal wrist watch, yours was made to look more like an inconspicuous necklace so you could continue wearing it in the forties and still be dressed for the time period. âDonât let anyone take that off of you.â Scott directs his warning at you. You nod curtly, reaching up and running your fingers along the dainty device lightly.
           âTry not to go changing the past.â Bruce takes over again, but heâs backing away from the platform now and moving back toward the table of screens and devices. âStick to the mission. Get in with the Howling Commandos, get what you need from the HYDRA base, and then get the hell out of there on time. Are we all on the same page?â Both you and Bucky nod in unison, and you finally face forward to meet his piercing stare.
           âIt could only be you.â Bucky whispers across the short distance between the two of you. Warmth floods your chest and you barely hear the sound of Bruce beginning to count backwards from twenty.
           âI told you I didnât need any more convincing.â You remind him, matching his low volume. âIâm here, Iâm doing this. I just think Sharon wouldâve been the smarter choice.â Bucky shakes his head at you almost disappointingly as Bruce reaches the ten second mark. You see something flash in Buckyâs eyes, something passionate and intense as you ready yourself to activate the helmet and face mask on your suit. When Bruce calls out eight seconds left, Bucky rushes forward, taking two steps before grasping the sides of your face firmly in his hands.
           His lips are soft and gentle when they meet yours, but in less than a second heâs kissing you like itâs the last time heâll ever get the chance to. It sucks the air right out of your lungs and sets a fluttering sensation off deep in your stomach, but then heâs pulling away and stepping back. You activate your helmets and face masks at the same time, right as Bruce is nearing the end of his count.
           âThree, two, oneâŠâ
           With a flash of light and an unusual feeling that the gravity beneath your feet has just increased by a hundred-fold, youâre being dragged through time and space, hurtling toward a period of time that youâre sure you donât belong in.
            Rain pours down heavily on the roof of the car as Peggy drums her fingertips along the top of the steering wheel. She glances down at the coordinates scrawled on a small scrap of paper for the fifth time, even though she knows sheâs exactly where sheâs supposed to be. She canât help but feel a little on edge. The street light perched above her car gives off just enough light for her to lean over in front of the rearview mirror and reapply her red lipstick one last time. Itâs a bit of a nervous habit really, because itâs not like she has much reason for her makeup to look perfect with the role sheâs about to play. A glorified cab driver. Thatâs what she is tonight. A flash of light in the distance catches her attention, and it isnât lightning. She turns the key in the ignition and watches as her headlights suddenly illuminate the alley ahead.
           She isnât quite sure what she expected the two of you to look like. She shouldâve assumed that Sergeant Barnes would age well, but the fact that heâs barely aged has her raising a brow as she studies him from a distance. She notes the fact that he seems taller and much more muscular than the Sergeant Barnes sheâs come to know through Steve and the Howling Commandos.
           âWelcome to London.â Bucky mutters under his breath, as he raises a hand to shield his eyes from the bright headlights ahead. He squints slightly and catches sight of Peggyâs characteristic red lip and brown curls through the windshield of a dark Morris eight. You cut your eyes to the side and take in the sight of him, with his hair already soaked through and rainwater dripping down the side of his face. Before you have a chance to say anything back, heâs moving to stand behind you and placing a hand against the middle of your back, lightly guiding you toward the car.
           The rain sends a chill racing from your head to your toes as Bucky reaches past you, tugs the front passenger door open and ushers you into the seat. He leans down before closing the door, letting his scent invade your space as he looks past you to Peggy.
           âPeggy Carter.â He says with a soft smile, looking at her as if heâs seeing an old friend after so long apart. Youâre stuck staring at him. Youâve never seen this look on his face before and it lets you see him in a slightly different light.
           âSergeant Barnes.â Peggyâs British accent is almost musical in a way. You finally turn your head and get a good look at her. She looks perfectly put together and polished with her bright red lipstick, styled hair, and navy blue pantsuit. âIf youâd like to hop in and allow your partner here to close her door, we just might make it to your safehouse before youâre both thoroughly soaked.â A laugh slips past Buckyâs lips, but he listens to her and steps away from the door, closing it for you gently. Once heâs settled in the backseat, Peggy shoots a sideways smile in your direction before putting the car into reverse. âDoes he always listen that well?â
           âNot at all.â You respond honestly.
           Peggy guides the car backwards out of the alley and onto the very sleepy, rainy streets of London. Itâs an odd feeling to be in such a major city but see so little traffic or nightlife. Youâre taking everything in with widened eyes, noting all of the little differences between the forties and the time period that you come from. Buckyâs soaking it in as well, but instead of exciting him, it relaxes him. He sinks into the backseat and lets out a deep breath, watching as the old buildings and signs roll past his window. He almost feels at home here.
           The drive to the safehouse on the outskirts of the city doesnât take anywhere near as long as it wouldâve taken in the modern world. When Peggy turns into the long driveway of one of Howard Starkâs many homes, youâre starting to feel the effects of time travel. Your head feels a little fuzzy and you have a sensation almost similar to that of motion sickness. Peggy says something about the house being a bit small for two people, mentioning it being one of Starkâs occasional residences for when he travels alone.
           âEverything you need will be inside. Clothes, food, a few choice weapons for the mission at hand. Please let me know if I missed anything, but I think I was rather thorough.â Peggy says cordially as she leads the way up the paved driveway toward the front door. You take a few steps away from the car but stop short, scrunching your eyes shut as a heavy wave of nausea hits. Buckyâs behind you in an instant, letting his palm press against your lower back as he stands at your side and leans over to look at your face.
           âWhatâs going on?â He asks in a hushed tone with concern lacing his words.
           âIâm good, itâs just the time travel thing.â Bruce made you both read an obscene amount of research on the potential physiological effects of time travel, but assured you that you probably wouldnât experience any of them. Yet, here you are, experiencing a bout of time sickness before youâve even made it into the safehouse. Bucky scrutinizes your expression, searching your eyes for any sign that youâre downplaying whateverâs going on with you. You wave a dismissive hand at him as rain begins to come down a little heavier.
           âAre you two coming?â Peggy asks from the door up ahead, looking at you both with a raised brow. Bucky turns his head for a second to glance at her, but quickly looks back at you as his hand falls away from your back. He watches you carefully as you put on an unbothered expression and take a couple of steps forward. Shit. The nausea increases ten-fold and suddenly youâre rushing over to the edge of the driveway and leaning over with your hands on the knees of your quantum suit, losing the contents of your stomach all in one go. Buckyâs beside you within a second, gathering your hair up in both of his hands and holding it back behind your shoulders.
           âDonât say it.â Bucky warns as you turn your head to look up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
           âIt shouldâve been Sharon.â You groan, straightening up and tugging your hair away from his grasp. He shakes his head at you and you can already see an argument gearing up in his head, so you brush past him, feeling significantly better now that youâre completely empty.
           Peggy canât seem to stop herself from reading into the way you and Bucky interact. When she met Sharon just yesterday, it was made abundantly clear that you and Sergeant Barnes are partners but donât always play nice with each other. From what sheâs seeing now, Bucky wants nothing more than to play nice with you. She has to wonder if the bickering and constant tension that Sharon talked about is a façade, a thick wool blanket over whatâs really at the core of your partnership.
           You feel fine just long enough to run your fingertips over the green and cream floral wallpaper that covers the kitchen walls and admire the pristine white oven that anyoneâs great grandmother would love. But the moment you turn your attention to the living area just a few steps outside of the kitchen, a fresh wave of nausea begins taking up residence in the pit of your stomach and you breathe in deeply through your nose. Bucky watches you apprehensively from the foyer, waiting to see what youâll do. He can tell you feel miserable. He can tell you want to get a good look at the safehouse and settle yourself in, but youâre looking a little green and fatigued as you move toward a large dark green couch in the living room.
           You sink into the couch and let your head fall back against the cushion behind you. As you reach up and wrap your fingers around your necklace, your quantum suit deactivates and youâre left in leggings and a black pull-over. Bucky glances around the house, noting the short hallway that leads to the master bedroom and what looks to be French doors leading to a study off to one side. He takes a few steps forward until heâs moving around the couch, and then seats himself in a dainty looking floral-patterned lounge chair thatâs angled toward you across from a coffee table.
           âIs this really just a time travel thing?â Bucky finally speaks. Your eyes flutter open and you take in the sight of him in that lounge chair. If you didnât feel so shitty you might laugh at how out of place he looks in such a pretty little chair.
           âWhat else would it be?â You ask. Bucky watches closely as you run your fingers through your damp hair and stare right back at him. He narrows his eyes at you and cocks his head to the side and you immediately know what heâs thinking. What is it with men always thinking that a woman is pregnant if she pukes? You just fucking time traveled and he still feels the need to rule it out?
           âIâm not pregnant.â You sigh, letting your eyes fall closed again as you kick your shoes off and draw your knees up toward your chest. âI canât be.â
           âCanât be?â
           âI havenât done the thing that you need to do in order to be pregnant in a long time.â Bucky finds relief in your words. He didnât really think you were pregnant, but he sure as hell likes knowing that you havenât slept with anyone recently. He leans back in his chair and lets his gaze float around the comfortable space. The homey kitchen makes him think of his mom. The wooden floor boards make him think of how carefully heâd have to tiptoe around his childhood home to keep from letting his parents know that he was awake past his bedtime. The slight chill in the air guides his eyes over to the fireplace that spreads across one wall of the living room. If it gets any colder heâll have to start a fire.
           âI kissed you.â He says evenly, turning his head back to you. You open your eyes and give him a hard stare, trying to read his indecipherable expression as his blue eyes zero in on your face.
           âYeah, you keep doing that.â Your nausea worsens and you draw your knees up even tighter against your chest before dropping your head down to rest on them. Bucky pushes himself out of his chair and heads for the kitchen. You listen as he opens and closes a few drawers, rummaging around for something. A few seconds later you hear the kitchen sink running and then it cuts off. Bucky stands there, wringing out a wet cloth as he purses his lips.
           âYou havenât stopped me.â He points out. He turns on his heel and carries the wet cloth in your direction. When you feel his weight sink into the couch cushion beside you, you lift your head from your knees and find yourself face to face with him. He lifts the wet cloth to the side of your neck and dabs at it gently, watching as your eyes close and you take a deep breath in.
           âIâll make sure it doesnât happen again.â Sarcasm drips from every word. Bucky slides the cloth to the back of your neck and holds it there for a moment.
           âHeâs going to try to kiss you tomorrow.â Bucky seems almost annoyed with his own statement and you steal a sideways glance at him as he moves the wet cloth to your forehead. He seems to almost resent the way his younger self behaved.
           âHe moves that fast?â Bucky nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he contemplates how much to tell you.
           âYouâll meet and heâll ask you to dance. Youâll dance and heâll ask if you want to leave the bar. Heâll take you out into the city, try to show you a good time.â Bucky slides the wet cloth down the side of your face until itâs right below your chin. You look into his eyes, watching as his gaze darts down to your lips for the most fleeting moment. âHe moves fast.â
           âI can handle it.â You assure him, but your words come out a lot quieter than you intended. Bucky pulls his hand and the cloth away from your chin and dabs your neck with it again.
           âI know.â
           âThen why does it seem like youâre worried?â Bucky shrugs his shoulders as he focuses in on the skin of your neck. Heâs staring at the spot he once marked with his own lips, dragging the cool cloth over it slowly.
           âI donât like the thought of him touching you.â
           âBuckyâŠâ Your stomach churns violently and youâre rushing off of the couch at lightning speed. Your feet carry you down the hall, into the master bedroom, and into the bathroom quickly. Youâre lucky you make it in time to drop to your knees in front of the toilet before the last remnants inside of you start to come out. You hear Bucky step into the bathroom only a second later and heâs tugging your hair back just like he did in the driveway earlier. âDonât say shit like that.â You groan, grasping the wet cloth that Buckyâs holding out beside your head. You wipe at your lips and reach up to flush the toilet as you stay in place, not trusting that your gut is finished betraying you.
           âLike what?â
           âYou shouldnât care if someone else touches me. Weâre partners. We canât keep blurring the lines like this.â You explain. Buckyâs hands stay firmly in your hair as he waits to see if youâll get sick a third time.
           âThe lines have been blurred for a long time.â
           âDoesnât mean we should keep blurring them.â You assert. Though you donât peer over your shoulder to look at Bucky, you can sense the look of frustration thatâs written all over his face. He lets out a weighted sigh before moving away from you and reaching over to turn on the shower. As the sound of running water fills the room, you gauge the heaviness in your stomach and decide that you definitely feel better. You remember Bruceâs little pamphlets saying that the first hour after moving through timelines is when you experience the most side effects, and youâre nearing the forty-five-minute mark now. You lean away from the toilet and drop the lid down before pushing yourself up to stand. Though you feel a tiny bit wobbly on your feet, the nausea is mostly gone and the steam from the shower is making you feel a little less chilly.
           âIâll go grab you some clothes.â Bucky says quietly as he brushes past you and heads back into the bedroom. You take the free moment to search the contents of the bathroom drawers until you find a new toothbrush and some toothpaste. Bucky comes back in when youâre brushing your teeth in front of the fogged-up mirror. âI get the feeling you arenât going to wear these.â He says with a smirk, dropping a deep red set of folded pajamas beside the sink. You give him a wary side-eye, tucking the toothbrush into the side of your cheek before reaching for the pile of fabric. As soon as you unfold the top, you realize itâs a long sleeve button down shirt with matching pants. It looks like the kind of pajamas you see families wear on Christmas day in lifestyle magazines. Shaking your head, you fold the top and set it back on the countertop. Bucky crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe as you bend over the sink and spit out a mouthful of water and toothpaste.
           âThatâs all there is?â You rinse off the toothbrush and set it along the side of the sink before reaching down and gripping the bottom of your shirt. You already have it pulled over your head by the time you realize what youâre doing. Bucky stands frozen in the doorway, staring at you with narrowed eyes as you drop the shirt to the floor at your feet. He tilts his head to the side, never letting his eyes stray from your face even as you stand before him in a bra.
           âHow is this not blurring the lines?â He questions, jutting his chin out at you. You narrow your eyes back at him and cross your arms over your chest, matching his stance. Thereâs a palpable heat in the air, and itâs not just from the steamy shower. As you and Bucky stand there staring each other down, each of you refusing to break first, tensions soar and you find yourself itching to push him out of the bathroom and shut the door. He can see the idea forming in your head so he speaks up before you actually have a chance to go through with it. âThere was a floor-length nightgown if youâd rather wear that.â He says with another signature smirk. You shake your head firmly.
           âWere t-shirts not a thing in the forties?â
           âYouâre going to wear a t-shirt when thereâs only one bed?â Bucky asks, raising a brow. A genuine laugh erupts from your chest as you uncross your arms and run your fingers through your damp hair.
           âThe bedâs all yours, Bucky.â You say, raising your hands up in a gesture that makes it clear you donât want the bed for yourself. âIâm taking the couch.â Bucky scoffs as he reaches over for the folded pajamas beside the sink. As he steps out of the bathroom, he gives you a look you canât quite read. Itâs something between longing and frustration and it makes your cheeks feel warm. He pulls the door shut behind him, leaving you alone in the steamy bathroom. As you strip your clothes off and step under the stream of water, so many things are stuck in your head. The way Bucky rushed over and held your hair back not only the first time you puked, but the second time as well. He cares. You know he cares. He cares and it scares the shit out of you. The way he pressed a wet cloth to your neck and sat with you on the couch, even if he was using the moment to warn you about his younger self and reveal a little hint of how he feels about you. I donât like the thought of him touching you. Buckyâs confession may not have surprised you, but it wasnât what you were expecting him to say. What did he think was going to happen when he insisted you be a part of this mission? He couldâve let Sharon handle it and he never wouldâve had to deal with the jealousy or possessiveness or whatever it is thatâs coursing through him right now. But no, it had to be you. It could only be you. As you scrub a sweet-smelling soap into your skin, your mind wanders back to that moment on the platform earlier today. He kissed you. He kissed you in front of some of your coworkers without a care in the world. The lines are so fucking blurred that you wonder if he even knows where they are anymore, or if he cares. You look down as soapy suds circle around the drain near your feet. Do you know where they are? Do you care?
           Bucky rummages around in the bedroom until he finds a plain white t-shirt that heâs sure Peggy meant to be for him. It looks like itâll probably be a bit oversized on you, so he tosses it onto the bed and stands still for a moment, listening to the sound of the shower running through the wall. He knows you feel the same thing he feels. Every time heâs kissed you, heâs reminded that you feel it. Do you try to deny it because you donât want to feel it? Sometimes he just wants to grab you and ask what it is that keeps you from being real with him.
           Bucky shakes his head, trying his best to clear all thoughts of you from his mind, before tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it on the bed. He leaves his tactical pants on as he moves through the house, searching for an extra pillow and blanket. He sure as hell isnât going to let you take the couch, especially not a couch made eighty years before the couches youâre used to sitting on. Youâll wake up in the morning with a stiff neck and aching back. Heâll take the couch and leave you the bed.
           Itâs just a few minutes later that youâre stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped tightly in a towel as you pad across the bedroom floor quietly. You glance around but see no sign of Bucky. Eyeing the crisp white t-shirt on the bed, you can tell he left it for you. You run your fingers over it while clutching the towel around your chest with one hand.
           âIs that what you wanted?â Buckyâs voice is low and gravelly as he speaks from the bedroom doorway behind you. Clutching the towel a little tighter, you turn to face him with the white shirt fisted in one hand. Your eyes roam over the expanse of his bare chest, coasting down to the ripples of his abs and the v-line that so prominently drags your gaze even further down to the front of his tactical pants. He smirks at the way youâre ogling him, but he doesnât mention it. When you finally tear your eyes away from him, the dresser beside the doorway catches your eye. You move closer to it and rummage around in one of the top drawers until you find a pair of simple black panties. Buckyâs eyes follow your movements carefully. He leans against the doorframe just like he did in the bathroom earlier, keeping his gaze trained on your face as you lean over and guide the panties up your legs beneath the towel. Youâre just careful enough to make sure not to flash Bucky, but you wonder if his eyes would even stray from your face if you flashed him.
           âItâs fine.â You say, referring to the t-shirt. âAre you gonna shower?â You ask, trying to keep your gaze from drifting down his torso again. You turn away from the dresser and head back for the foot of the bed, dropping the shirt onto the mattress before peeling the towel away from your body.
           Bucky stiffens in the doorway as you let your towel fall to your feet. Heâs never seen you this way. As you stand there with your back exposed, wearing nothing but a pair of black panties, he has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from saying something stupid. Whoâs blurring the lines now? He wants to point out your hypocrisy, to make it blatantly obvious, but he stays quiet as you tug the t-shirt over your head and slide your arms through the short sleeves.
           âDid you want to keep staring or were you going to shower?â Your voice rings out playfully as you cut your eyes at Bucky over your shoulder. He tamps down a groan at the way you look at him through your lashes, but then heâs moving toward the bathroom door.
           âIf I find you on the couch when I get out, Iâm moving you myself.â He threatens, not daring to steal another look at you as he nears the bathroom.
           âI already called it.â You shrug, bending over to scoop your damp towel off the floor.      Â
           âTake the bed, unless you want me joining you on that damn couch and blurring the lines even more.â
           As you settle into the bed, letting go of your signature stubborn nature for the time being, Buckyâs all you can think about. Itâs not the fact that he looked undeniably attractive standing there in the doorway without a shirt on. Itâs not the fact that he insisted you take the bed and leave him with the surely uncomfortable couch. Itâs every little thing heâs said and done in between that has your heart racing and your mind reeling. What if, just this once, you let yourself explore the tension? What if instead of waiting for the tension to snap like a twig, instead of waiting for him to lay you down in the backseat of someone elseâs car in the heat of the moment, you took the initiative and tried to figure out what the hell this is between the two of you? He was right when he said that the lines have been blurred for a long time. Maybe instead of trying to tiptoe around and avoid blurring them, you should just shift them. Shift the lines and see if things end up crashing down in flames. If everything goes horribly, itâs not like you had anything to lose. But if things go well? A shiver runs down your spine and you tuck yourself in underneath the covers of the oversized bed. You sink into the pillow behind your head and let your eyes fall closed as you imagine a moment where your field partner becomes something more. You imagine a moment where all the stolen kisses and touches lately stop being so stolen, and instead are given and taken freely. You imagine what it might feel like to stop running and fighting against this thing that you feel so strongly. Warmth spreads through your body and you relax against the mattress.
           When Bucky steps out of the bathroom a few minutes later and catches sight of you curled up in bed with your eyes closed and the covers pulled up to your shoulders, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He really thought youâd try to tough it out and sleep on the couch. He stands in the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom, fiddling with the dog tags around his neck and wondering if he should look for some pajamas of his own instead of crashing on the couch in just a pair of black boxers. When he glances over at you again and sees the peaceful look on your face, he canât bring himself to go digging through the dresser or closet and risk waking you. Though itâs chilly in the house, he could make it through the night just fine by starting a fire in the living room fireplace and using the spare blanket he set out on the couch while you showered. As he starts moving forward, his dog tags clink against his bare chest and the wooden floor creaks under his feet on the second step. He stills and holds his breath, not even moving to look over his shoulder and see if heâs woken you with those little sounds. After waiting a second, takes another cautious step forward and the floor creaks a little louder. Fuck it. He makes it to the door quickly, with only a few more creaks of wood beneath his feet, but as he exits the doorway into the hall, he hears you stir behind him.
           âBucky?â Your soft sleepy voice stops him in his tracks. He exhales deeply, feeling a bit guilty about waking you but loving the way you sound when youâve just woken up. He turns around in the doorway and faces you. Youâre propped up on one elbow, squinting at him through the dark room.
           âIf I knew the floors were so loud I wouldâve just slept in the shower.â He says halfheartedly, speaking quietly to match the sleepy mood of the house.
           âI wasnât really asleep.â You whisper back. Your eyes follow the curve of his vibranium arm down until youâre studying the black and gold fingertips that hang at his side. Bucky raises a brow at you.
           âYou were asleep.â He murmurs, cocking his head to the right. He glances over at the empty side of the bed, noting how little space you take up even when you have your legs stretched out.
           âI was just thinking.â
           âAbout what?â Bucky wonders aloud. He takes a step forward and leans against the doorframe like heâs done multiple times tonight. He crosses his arms over his chest as you let your head fall away from your hand and lay back on your pillow again. You stare up at the ceiling as nervousness begins to swell up in your chest. You bite down on your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut, holding your breath for a second before deciding to speak again.
           âBlurring the lines.â As you lay there in the dark, refusing to prop yourself back up to look at Bucky, your heart starts beating wildly against your ribcage. Heâs silent for a second too long and it has you regretting opening your mouth. When you hear the wood floor creak, you force yourself to open your eyes. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you see Bucky moving toward the bed slowly. His dog tags swing with each step, clanging against his chest a couple of times before he reaches your side of the bed. You watch with bated breath as he nudges your legs through the covers. Getting the hint, you sit up and pull your legs in closer, drawing your knees to your chest. Bucky sits down on the side of the bed but keeps his face cast downward at the floor.
           âThat night you tried to sleep it offâŠâ His voice trails off as he leans over and rests his elbows on his knees. He looks down at his hands as he presses his palms together. âDid it work?â You swallow hard but donât hesitate to shake your head. You know he catches the act in his peripheral vision, so you donât say a word. Bucky nods slowly, studying his hands as if heâs memorizing every detail of them. Your eyes drift to his shoulders as he takes steady, even breaths. They rise and fall rhythmically as moonlight from the window across the room filters in through the curtains and highlights them.
           Bucky wants to say more, to ask you more. He can tell that youâre open to talking right now, probably more open than youâve ever been before, but he has this sinking feeling that youâll say something thatâll break him. He doesnât know if he can handle hearing you say out loud just how one-sided you think this thing between you really is. Even though heâs sure itâs not actually one-sided, hearing you say that it is might really break him. He wonât give you the chance to do that yet. He wants to hold out hope a little longer. So, Bucky rises from the side of the bed and exhales deeply. When he turns to head for the door again, intent on settling into that stiff green couch in the living room for the night, every sensory receptor in his body fires at once at the feeling of your hand reaching out and grasping his flesh one. He drops his gaze quickly and sees exactly what he feels: your palm sliding against his and your fingers intertwining with his softly. His throat feels dry and every thought leaves his mind as you tighten your grasp and tug on his hand slightly.
           âLay with me.â You whisper. Your tone is so meek that he can tell exactly whatâs going through your mind right now. Youâre afraid heâll say no. Youâre afraid that heâll reject you and continue on to sleep on the couch, leaving you here alone, feeling vulnerable and stunted. The tone of your whisper puts the tiniest crack in his hard exterior.
           Buckyâs silent as you drop his hand and scoot closer to the middle of the bed, pulling back the covers for him. He moves slow as he settles into the warm spot youâd been occupying, inhaling your sweet scent as he pulls the covers over his body and rolls onto his side to face you. Youâre just a few inches away, lying on your folded arm since he moved the second pillow to the couch earlier. He could get up and go grab the pillow. Heâd only be gone for a few seconds. But he fears the moment he leaves your sight, youâll change your mind about having him here and heâll have ruined everything. Thatâs why he tugs the pillow out from under his head and moves it toward you, watching with a softened gaze as you accept it and slide it beneath your own head.
           Youâre falling asleep right in front of his eyes a few minutes later, when suddenly your eyes flutter open and you reach out for him beneath the covers. Your warm palm lands on his side, skating around to his back before you pull him toward you. He moves in carefully, apprehensively, until his chest is nearly pressed against yours. He watches as you drag the pillow until itâs in the shared space between you and both of your heads fall to rest on it evenly. With Buckyâs body heat keeping you warm and the light patter of rain on the bedroom window lulling you to sleep, your eyes are closed only a few minutes later and Bucky finds himself missing the heat of your stare until he too drifts off into an unusually peaceful slumber.
           You awake in a tangle of limbs with lightning flashing through the curtains and illuminating the room with a ghostly glow.  Everything looks a little scarier in an antique house at three in the morning. Thunder rumbles loudly just above the house, shaking the roof and rattling the glass window. As you fully come to your senses, you figure out just where your limbs are in relation to Buckyâs and your heart rate picks up quickly. Heâs asleep directly in front of you, with his face looking more relaxed than youâve ever seen it. But his legs and armsâŠ
           A shaky breath flows out through your nose as you close your eyes and try not to move. Bucky has one thigh wedged snugly between yours and an arm thrown lazily over your waist. You can tell that your t-shirt has ridden up above your hips and ass, with his forearm resting against the hem of it on your waist. Blurred lines. So fucking blurred.
           You close your eyes tightly as a loud crack of thunder reverberates through the house. Buckyâs instantly awoken as the thunder rolls and you tense up against him. He focuses on your face, on your tightly closed eyes and the way youâre holding your breath. He moves the arm thatâs draped over your waist slowly until his hand is ghosting over your hip. His fingertips just barely graze the hem of your t-shirt as thunder sounds again. You look into his eyes right as you move your left hand to clamp down over his, forcing his palm to press flat against your hip and his fingers to curl against your skin. As you stare into each otherâs eyes and the storm rages on just outside, the tension rising between you feels just like it did in the car outside of Sharonâs apartment that night.
           âI donât want to keep blurring the lines.â Bucky rasps as he squeezes your hip once. Your eyes trail down to his lips as he speaks only inches from your face. He leans in slowly until heâs so close that one little shift of your head would have you kissing him. He lets the tip of his nose brush against yours gently before moving down and pressing his lips to your jawline. He leaves kisses in a row all the way back to your ear, moving at a torturously slow pace until heâs nipping at your neck in that way that always drives you crazy.
           âThen what do you want?â You ask breathlessly. Bucky pushes the knee thatâs trapped between your legs upward until heâs applying the tiniest bit of pressure against your clothed cunt. A soft moan escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs around his and focus on the feel of skin against skin.
           âI want to cross them.â He whispers against your neck. You tilt your head back to give him more access as his tongue swirls against the column of your throat. âI want to lay you down on the line and justâŠâ Bucky tugs the neck of your shirt to the side and bites down on your collarbone lightly. âFuck you on it.â
           âBuckyâŠâ His name is a whimper that floats from your lips and fills the space around you both. Moving his hand back down to your hip, Bucky curls his fingertips into it and pulls you down, making your grind against the firm muscle of his thigh. This time a sultry moan slips out and your back arches slightly, causing your chest to press against his.
           âHow am I supposed to keep my hands off of you when you say my name like that?â Wetness pools between your thighs and begins to dampen the fabric of your panties as he pushes his thigh upward again, at the same time that he pulls your hip down and applies pressure to your clit just right. You know you should have better sense than to lay here and let him do unspeakable things to you. You should remind him that youâre partners, that youâd be risking things professionally if you let things go on this way. You should remind him that youâre technically on a mission right now, but his name just falls from your lips again. Youâre actively emptying your mind of any thought that would have you push him away when he attaches his lips to your neck again and pulls you in against his chest. You try to push his shoulders and force him onto his back so you can move on top of him, but he fights against you, rolling on top of you instead. He pins your arms down on either side of your head and lets his nose brush against yours a second time. He lowers his hips down slowly as your legs spread on their own accord, giving him the space to press his clothed erection against your wet panties.
           âHow do we keep ending up like this?â You whisper against his lips, staring up into his blue eyes as your question hangs in the air. Bucky presses his lips to yours in a short, shallow kiss. âI keep telling myself this canât happen and we keep ending up here.â
           âLet me have you.â He begs, dropping his forehead to yours. You look at him through your lashes as your breath hitches in your throat. âLet me have you just this once.â
           âJust this once? Thatâs all youâre asking for?â The words come out airy and light as you struggle to take in a full breath. Bucky grinds against you, circling his hips slowly while he keeps your arms pinned to the mattress.
           âIâd ask you for a lifetime if I didnât think it would scare the shit out of you.â Goosebumps prickle across your skin and you bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
           âWe canât fuck.â You say decidedly. The surety of your voice surprises you, with how malleable you feel having Bucky grind against you like this. You fear that if he really asked you for something specific, youâd say yes in a heartbeat. He circles his hips into yours impossibly harder and shakes his head above you.
           âI wasnât asking if I could fuck you.â Bucky takes in the confused look on your face and he canât help but to lean in and kiss you. He envisions what he really wants to do to you. He pictures the way he wants to push your legs apart and eat you out like your pussy is his last meal. Then he kisses you like thatâs exactly what heâs doing. His tongue delves into your mouth relentlessly, leaving you gasping for air when he finally pulls back. He lets go of your forearms and pushes the covers away from his back as he shimmies down. He kisses your neck, then your chest through the t-shirt. He leaves soft, gentle kisses all the way down until heâs settling himself between your legs and pressing his lips against the waistband of your panties. You look down at him through your lashes, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his face closer to where you need it. âI was asking if I could taste you.â
           âYou say you want to lay me down on the metaphorical line and fuck me, and then you get between my legs and ask if you can just taste me?â
           âIâm not fucking you until I know I can do it without you running off and pretending like it meant nothing to you.â He plants an open-mouthed kiss right over your clothed clit. The warmth of his tongue seeps through the fabric, sending a jolt of pleasure dancing up your spine and a knot tightening low in your stomach. âWhen I fuck you, youâre not going to get all in your head about how you shouldnât have let it happen. Youâre not going to have regrets and feel like we ruined everything we had.â Bucky hooks a finger in your panties and gently pulls them to the side, but he never looks down. He maintains eye contact as he starts pressing the pad of his thumb against your now exposed clit. Him finding your clit instantly without even looking, without having your anatomy perfectly memorized, almost ruins you. âWhen I fuck you, youâre going to realize that you were just delaying the inevitable.â
           âYou keep saying when.â You point out between heavy pants. You canât resist the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair any longer, not when heâs toying with your clit this way and looking at you so intensely. You reach down with both hands, carding your fingers through his hair and tugging on it lightly.
           âInevitable, sweetheart. Tell me what that word means.â He finally lets his eyes angle downward and settle on your wet cunt. You watch as his pupils dilate and his tongue darts out to dampen his lips as he admires you from just a couple of inches away. He starts circling your clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to have your back arching off of the bed and your fingers curling in his brown hair. Bucky inches closer to your pussy and you feel his tongue press against your entrance firmly, before heâs dragging it upwards and using it to replace his thumb. He pulls back abruptly, leaving you whining out in frustration. âIf somethingâs inevitable, itâs certain. Itâs unavoidable, it was bound to happen.â His warm breath fans over your pussy as he speaks in a low voice. Bucky sucks on your clit roughly before pulling back again. âWhen I fuck you, when the inevitable happens, you wonât be able to pretend like thereâs nothing between us anymore.â
           Youâre torn between wanting to argue with him and wanting to clamp your thighs around his head and grind against his tongue. Bucky smirks up at you and you tug on his hair a little harder out of spite.
           âItâs already happening, isnât it?â He asks just before flattening his tongue against your clit and letting your circle your hips against him. Your eyes flutter closed as that knot in your stomach tightens more and more. âItâs getting harder to pretend.â
           âFuck you.â You moan out the insult, but itâs useless as he slides down and pushes his tongue inside of you. His thumb takes over stimulating your clit once again as he starts eating you out like heâs dreamt of doing it since heâs known you. His tongue works you up higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge of the cliff as a sweat breaks out across your forehead and you struggle to keep your ass on the bed.
           âYouâre getting close.â He groans against you. You whimper as he drags his thumb away from your clit and switches to rubbing it with his middle and ring fingers. He moves slow now, sliding those fingertips away from your clit and toward your entrance.
           âBuckyâŠâ You say his name in warning. You know what heâs about to do. He plunges both fingers into you, stopping when theyâre halfway in and your back is arched inches off of the bed. Your fingertips scrape against his scalp as you hold in a moan that wouldâve been damn near pornographic if youâd let it out. Bucky lets out a frustrated sigh before dragging his fingers out and then pushing them back in all the way. As he holds them inside of you knuckle-deep, you cry out loudly. Itâs been so long since youâve let anyone do something like this to you and he isnât giving you much time to adjust, but god, it feels so fucking good.
           âBreathe, baby.â He says as he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. He starts fucking you with his fingers slowly, almost gently. In and out they go, first just halfway each time, but then he starts thrusting them deeper and going a little faster with it. âI wouldâve gone a little easier on you if you hadnât held in that pretty little sound.â
           âJustâŠfuck, Bucky.â You moan, hooking your legs over his shoulders as a loud crack of thunder sends the window rattling again. âIâm close.â
           âTrust me, I know.â He groans, pressing a sloppier kiss to the inside of your thigh as he curls his fingers inside of you. You cry out again, but this time your hands leave his hair and go to grip the sheets on either side of your head. âAre you going to imagine youâre cumming on my cock when this orgasm hits?â
           âNo.â You say defiantly, shaking your head as he curls his fingers again. He laughs darkly, clearly calling your bluff.
           âYou know you squeeze the hell out of my fingers when you lie?â
           âI do not.â
           âThatâs it, baby.â Bucky coos. He positions himself to attach his lips to your clit as he continues his ministrations with his hand. âKeep tightening around my fingers until you fucking cum.â
           Some part of you wants to keep defying him. You want to be stubborn and refuse to give him this piece of you, refuse to give him one of your orgasms. It feels like if you let go and give it to him, youâre going to tumble right over the edge of a cliff and into the unknown. But why does it feel so damn good as you stand on the edge of that cliff? When you stop resisting and let your orgasm wash over you, when Bucky watches as your face contorts with bliss and your knuckles turn white against the bed sheets, heâs just as far gone as you are. Youâre cumming around his fingers while he laps at your clit, and heâs cumming in his boxers without even having realized just how close he was to doing it.
           Thereâs an odd feeling brewing in his chest as he puts your panties back in place and collapses beside you in bed. He canât quite figure out what it is. When you catch your breath and look over at him, taking in the sight of Bucky Barnes with your arousal painted over his lips and chin, you feel your heart skip a beat. Bucky looks back at you, but he only gets a second to see your dilated pupils and flushed cheeks before youâre leaning in and swiping your tongue across his bottom lip.
           As your lips move against his in a gentle, familiar way, his lungs burn and his heart is pounding in his ears. Because he knows what this is. He knows what that unusual feeling in his chest really is. Love. Heâs in love with the girl who lives to ignore her feelings.
           Youâre in too deep. You canât even try to reason with yourself. As you lie in a tangle of sheets, listening to the mixed water sounds of Bucky showering and rain falling lightly just outside the bedroom window, you feel utterly fucked. And not just because Bucky fucked you with his mouth last night. You let out a frustrated groan before rolling onto your back and fisting your hands in your messy hair. You canât tell yourself to be professional because youâre so far past professional now that itâd be insulting to you both if you tried to revert. You canât tell yourself to stop crossing lines with him because you know just how good it feels every time you do it. Bucky was onto something last night when he asked you if it was getting harder for you to pretend that thereâs nothing between the two of you.
           Your eyes float over to the partially closed bathroom door and you watch for a moment as steam floats through the space between it and the doorframe. Is it steam from the hot shower or is it just radiating off of the man that said your pussy gets tighter when you lie? Blush creeps into your cheeks at the memory of him saying such a filthy thing while his fingers were inside of you.
           Bucky tenses up in the shower when he hears the bathroom door creak open the tiniest bit. When your bare feet lightly tap along the cold floor and he hears them stop in front of the sink, a small smile plays on his lips.
           âYouâre not coming in?â Buckyâs smirk is evident in his tone and youâre biting on the inside of your cheek as you reach for your toothbrush.
           âYou remember me saying we canât fuck, right?â You ask, though even as you say it, it feels like a weak statement.
           âDo you remember me saying itâs inevitable?â He retorts playfully. You should tell him to fuck off, but you only find yourself tempted to actually join him in the shower. As you spread a bit of toothpaste along the bristles of your toothbrush, you shake your head to yourself.
           âIâm brushing my teeth in the kitchen.â
           âThatâs fine.â Bucky replies nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by your slight rejection. He spends the next ten minutes lathering and rinsing for the second time in less than twelve hours. He isnât normally someone who takes a shower both in the morning and at night, but after he came in his boxers last night, he fell asleep next to you and didnât take the time to clean himself up. He woke up feeling like heâd had a wet dream.
           Peggy sits on the foot of the bed, waiting patiently as you try on a third dress.
           âAre you alright in there?â Peggy calls out politely, uncrossing her legs and readying to rise from the bed if need be. You laugh softly from inside the walk-in closet before pulling the door open and revealing the deep blue dress she picked for you to try a few minutes ago. It has cap sleeves, a high neckline, and an A-line style skirt.  âI think that one looks wonderful on you, donât you like it?â She asks, pushing herself up and coming to stand in front of you. She catches the pinched look on your face before youâve even formulated a response. You didnât quite like the first two dresses either, and at this point there are only a handful left to try. She has to wonder if maybe itâs the dissonance between forties-style dresses and modern dresses thatâs throwing you off. âSergeant Barnes.â Peggy calls for him loudly.
           Buckyâs rising from the couch and heading down the hall as soon as heâs been invited into the bedroom. He was kicked out pretty much the moment he finished up his morning shower, with Peggy showing up and saying she just had to get started on your look for tonight. He was a bit skeptical about how much time itâd really take, but after hearing you try on three dresses and dislike every single one, he sees why she came so early.
           âWhat do we need him for?â Confusion is written all over your face as you smooth down the blue dress and raise a brow at Peggy.
           âHeâs the one that needs to like the dress, isnât he?â She questions, motioning for Bucky to come in. He takes a few steps into the room and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as his eyes coast over the dress. Itâs pretty, itâs definitely very forties-esque, but itâs not you. Itâs not you and itâs definitely not for him. âHelp her pick a dress for tonight.â Bucky stares at her for a long moment before she starts moving toward the door. She pats his shoulder as she passes him, leaning in to whisper in his ear just as youâre disappearing back into the closet. âShe needs you for this.â
           You feel Buckyâs presence in the closet without having to turn around and look at him. He stops just a few inches behind you, looking over your shoulder at the row of dresses that you have to choose from.
           âItâs a little different than your closet back home.â He says softly, watching as your fingertips dance across the fabric of each hanging dress.
           âYou havenât seen my closet back home.â You point out, tugging on the side of a dark navy dress. As soon as you see the front of it, you let it go. Your fingers continue on, looking for another dark fabric.
           âIf youâre looking for something like that little black dress you wore last weekend, you wonât find it in here.â Bucky replies. Thinking about that little black dress sends your mind back to the night in the bar, when Bucky kissed you in front of everyone. Then your mind wanders to what happened in the car after, and you have to shake the thought of it from your head. Your fingers brush along a bright red dress and you donât even consider checking it out. Bucky steps up close behind you, so close that you feel his body heat permeating your skin through the blue dress youâre wearing. He reaches around you with his right arm and grasps the edge of the only black fabric amongst all of the dresses hanging there.
           âPeggy said something colorful would be best.â You murmur as he removes the dress from the hanging rack and holds it out in front of you both.
           âHe wonât be paying much attention to the dress.â Bucky assures you. He leans in close to your ear before whispering his next words. âAnd you look good in black.â  A chill runs through you but you reach out and grasp the hanger quickly before turning around and pressing a hand against Buckyâs chest.
           âLet me change.â You push against his chest gently and he takes a few steps backward until heâs out of the closet. As he moves across the room to sit on the foot of the bed where Peggy previously was, he hears the sound of your blue dress unzipping but not the sound of the closet door closing. He takes a cautious look as he sinks down onto the edge of the mattress. There you are, slipping out of that deep blue fabric while giving Bucky an almost clear view of you in forties-style black lingerie. His cock is awake instantly and is hardening within the already sort of tight-fitting sweats he took from Starkâs dresser earlier this morning. Bucky leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees as he drops his line of sight to the floor.
           You walk out only a moment later in the dress he chose. Itâs all black, with off the shoulder sleeves and a fairly low-cut neckline. It hugs your body tightly. Itâs quite similar to the shape of the red dress that Peggy wore when he first saw her in the Whip and Fiddle.
           âDonât look at me like that.â You say lightly, watching as Buckyâs eyes glide up and down your figure multiple times. He clears his throat and sits up straight before motioning with his flesh hand for you to come closer. You move forward until youâre a couple of feet in front of him, but then your eyes drop to his lap and you see his erection pressed against his sweats. Confidence rolls off of you in waves as you stop thinking and take a few more steps toward him. You donât stop until youâre standing between his legs and heâs looking up at you. You let your hands rest on his shoulders as his move to ghost along the outsides of your thighs.
           âDonât go too far with him tonight.â Buckyâs tone is almost pleading as he searches your eyes, but his expression is unreadable.
           âHow far is too far?â You swallow thickly after asking your question. Bucky curls his fingers into your hips and draws in a deep breath.
           âI donât know.â He admits, but he does know. He knows that he doesnât even want you to let this younger version of himself dance with you. He doesnât want to let him lean in and whisper in your ear, he doesnât want him to even get the chance to consider kissing you.
           âYou told me he moves fast, and we need him and Steve to be on board for this mission tomorrow. I canât reject him.â You explain quietly, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Peggyâs still in the living room. When you turn your head forward again and look down at Bucky, heâs leaning in closer to you. You watch with your breath hitched in your throat as he lets the tip of his nose brush against your dress, just below your breasts. He moves slow, dragging his nose upward and letting his lips follow in their wake until heâs halfway up your chest. Your hands slide up the sides of his neck and tangle in his hair, tugging him back to look at you again.
           âWhy did you ask me to lay with you last night?â Bucky finally asks the question thatâs been on his mind since he woke up this morning. You exhale slowly, absentmindedly massaging your fingers into his scalp while his thumbs rub circles against the front of your hips. He watches as you chew on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to come up with a safe answer.
           âI wanted to know what it would feel likeâŠto stop pretending.â You whisper.
           âHow did it feel?â His eyes stray from your face, taking in the swell of your breasts over the low neckline of the dress. Filthy memories of last night flood your brain and you clench your thighs together slightly. It wasnât slightly enough, because Bucky catches on instantly and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. While youâre remembering the feel of his kisses against your inner thigh and his tongue on your clit, heâs remembering the sweet taste of your cunt and the pretty sounds you made just for him.
           âGood.â Your whisper is even quieter now, and your nerves are rising knowing Peggyâs just down the hall in the living room.
           âJust good?â Bucky fishes for more. He tests the waters, letting his hands slide down your thighs, closer to the hem of the dress. You donât move away, you donât swat at his hands or tell him to stop.
           âJust good, Bucky.â You answer. But as his fingers hook beneath the hem of your dress and he starts guiding it higher and higher up your legs, you know your resolve and will to pretend is crumbling.
           âI think youâre lying.â He says calmly, staring up at you with those blue eyes as the hem of the dress nears the middle of your thighs. You squeeze his shoulders as he lets his flesh thumb graze the lace edge of your panties, close to where your thigh meets your center.
           âPeggyâs here.â You whisper the reminder, but make no effort to break away from him. In fact, you find yourself leaning into his touch. Buckyâs quick as he slips one finger into your panties and drags it along the length of your folds, gathering the slick arousal thatâs started collecting between them.
           âShh, I just want to see if youâre lying to me.â Bucky hushes you just as his gaze is dropping to your lower body and heâs nudging your feet apart with his right foot. You donât stop him. You donât do anything but close your eyes and dig your fingertips into his shoulders as he dips a finger inside of you. Your mouth falls open and you inhale sharply as he curls it against your walls. âHow did it feel last night? To stop pretending for a little while?â He gazes up at you with what you think is a look of lust, but he knows is all fucking love. âJust good?â
           âBuckyâŠfuck.â He pulls his finger out before plunging it in deeper than before, and then he curls it again.
           âThatâs not an answer.â
           âIt felt goodâŠit felt, shit, Bucky.â He starts thrusting his finger in and out of you at a medium pace as you try to piece together your answer. âIt felt right.â He slows to a stop as you say that last word. Though youâre tight as fuck, just like you were last night, he doesnât feel that characteristic clenching when you give your answer. Youâre telling the truth. Maybe thatâs a stupid way to interrogate you, but his theory is proving true so far. He pulls his finger out of you and brings it to his lips, sucking it into his mouth and savoring your taste. You look down just as he's pulling it away from his lips and tugging your dress back into place.
           âBlack heels.â He says lightly, patting the side of your thigh as you step away from him. He rises in front of you and moves a stray lock of hair behind your ear with the same finger that was just inside you. âThe third ones from the closet door.â
           Buckyâs waltzing out of the room, tucking his hard-on into the waistband of his sweats as youâre left standing there dazed. Dazed and beyond aroused. Part of you wants to grab him by the back of his shirt and drag him back into the room, telling him to finish what he started. The other part of you knows better than to give him the satisfaction. So, you grab that pair of black heels from the closet and keep your mouth shut.
           You feel uncharacteristically nervous for what should just be another mission on your long list of undercover ops. Maybe itâs because you have one version of Bucky Barnes listening through the in-ear monitor youâre sporting, while youâre moments away from meeting another version of the same man. Or maybe itâs because youâre trying to walk the very fine line between hating Bucky Barnes and loving him. Whatever it is, youâre nervous and itâs showing.
           Peggy walks close to your side, leading the way down the busy street in her red dress and matching heels. You can hear the watch on her left wrist ticking away as you approach the Whip and Fiddle.
           âYou seem worried.â Peggy voices her observation softly as she slows her pace a bit and casts you a sideways glance. You let out a stiff laugh before pushing a curl over your shoulder. She did your hair and makeup in a way that has you feeling like something fresh out of a forties fashion catalog. âIs it the mission itself or the man involved?â You swallow thickly, knowing Bucky can hear the entire conversation through your in-ear monitor. You could reach up and turn it off, have a quick girls chat with Peggy while leaving Bucky in the dark. But youâre sure Peggy would instantly realize that youâre on comms and you donât know how sheâd feel about not being let in on it sooner.
           âIâm fine, just not used to life in the forties I guess.â You respond curtly.
           âWell, that wasnât very convincing.â She huffs. When she slows to a stop beside you, you know itâs futile to keep walking toward the bar, so you stop and turn to face her. âHe looks at you like he wouldâve given you the world and his last name in any timeline.â
           âPeggyââ
           âNow you have to spend an evening flirting with a younger version of him when you donât even know how you feel about your version of him. You donât have to lie to me just because heâs listening in, he knows that youâre conflicted.â Your eyes widen as she lets you in on exactly how perceptive she is. You hear Bucky clear his throat through your ear piece and pink begins to color your cheeks, youâre sure itâs even showing through the blush Peggy applied for you earlier.
           âIâll be fine.â You assure her, though the words donât come out sounding quite as convincing as youâd hoped.
           âIâm sure you will be. Sergeant Barnes will show you an exceptionally great time tonight, but it wonât make your problem any easier to figure out.â
           âMy problem?â
           âYouâre in love with your partner and you donât know how to handle it.â
           âYou just met us last night and youâve already decided that?â You ask incredulously, crossing your arms over your chest as Peggy glances over at the door to the Whip and Fiddle. You see a few soldiers spilling out of the place with varying degrees of unstable gaits and boisterous laughs. You donât recognize any of them as Steve or Bucky, so you turn your attention back to her.
           âIt doesnât matter when I met you, I look at you and I see me.â Thatâs how Peggy sees your situation so clearly. Sheâs in the same one. Sheâs in love with Steve Rogers and she doesnât know what to do about it. She doesnât know how to handle it yet. You let out a deep sigh and let your arms fall to your sides. Buckyâs staying quiet on the other end of comms, so quiet that you canât even hear him breathe. âI want to ask you how things end for me in the futureâŠhow things end for us, but I wonât.â You know that sheâs referring to herself and Steve and your heart breaks a little for her. âDonât let fear get in the way of the rest of your life. You could live a wonderful life with a man that feels what he feels for you, but you can lose it all by being too afraid to give him a chance.â
           Your black heels are frozen to the sidewalk as Peggyâs words echo in your mind. When she turns and starts heading for the entrance to the bar, you stay still and quiet.
           âThey end up together.â Buckyâs voice plays in your ear so quietly that you think youâve made it up for a moment.
           âHow do you know?â You finally ask, speaking under your breath as you start moving in Peggyâs direction slowly. Bucky lets out a long sigh, like heâs dwelling on a memory.
           âItâs the only reason Steve wouldâve stayed behind like he did.â Bucky listens to the slow, steady clicking of your heels against the pavement as he grows closer and closer to losing you to his younger self. He wants to say so much more. He wants to point out that you didnât deny it when Peggy said you were in love with him. He wants to ask if youâre really afraid, if she was right about that. But itâs not the time. Itâll probably never be the time.
           He leans back into the couch as he listens to the distant din of the Whip and Fiddle. The in-ear monitor wonât pick up much background noise, but he hears the sound of a bell chiming as the door opens for you and the sound of way too many soldiers clamoring around the space that youâre in. His eyes scrunch closed and his vibranium arm whirs as he curls his hand into a fist.
           âCaptain.â Peggyâs accent carries the title with an air of class as she approaches a man seated at the bar. You recognize the back of his head instantly. Steve Rogers. He turns around quickly, coming to stand only two feet in front of Peggy as his eyes quickly, and quite respectably, roam over her figure.  The room slows and everything starts sounding muffled when the man seated next to Steve turns around and his eyes meet yours. Bucky. You stare at each other for a few long seconds, neither of you saying anything.
           âAgent Carter.â Steve addresses her, breaking you out of your trance. You look over at the tall super soldier with his perfectly styled blonde hair and dress uniform, noting the way his eyes never leave Peggy.
           âHoward has some equipment for you to try.â Peggyâs mouth is speaking business, but her eyes are saying something else entirely as they lock onto Steveâs and refuse to stray. You can feel Buckyâs eyes studying you intensely over Peggyâs shoulder as you avoid his gaze and watch the exchange thatâs happening in front of you instead. âMaybe after tomorrowâs mission?â
           âSounds good.â Steve keeps his replies short, but every word is thick with tension. Peggy leans back a bit and glances across the bar, noting a particularly lively table of men. They lean into each other as they sing along to a tune someoneâs banging out on a beat up piano in the corner of the bar.              Â
           âI see your top squad is prepping for duty.â She says facetiously.
           âYou donât like music?â Bucky asks, tilting his head to the side and cocking a brow at her. Her gaze remains fixed on Steve as Bucky steps to the side to get a better look at you.
           âI do, actually. I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.â
           âAnd you?â Bucky directs his question at you now, nodding his head in your direction as Peggy steps to the side and gives you space to join the conversation. âDo you dance?â
           âWith the right partner.â You reply softly, trying hard not to get lost in his blue eyes. Though heâs younger and so much more naĂŻve, you see the Bucky you know all over the man in front of you. You see him in every artistic feature of his face, you see him in the way he cocks his head to the side and flashes a smirk at you.
           âThen what are we waiting for?â He asks playfully, nodding his head toward the more open part of the bar. You donât rush to take his outstretched hand, but once your palm is against his, you get the same feeling that youâve felt every time your version of Bucky has ever touched you. It feels electric. It feels like every nerve ending beneath your skin is on fire. It feels like youâre on the edge of a cliff and a strong wind is about to blow through and send you spiraling down.
           Back at the safehouse, Buckyâs stomach is twisting into knots as he pictures you wrapped up in the arms of anyone but him. He knows itâs stupid. He knows that this guy, in some way, really is him. But it still feels wrong. He listens reluctantly as this younger, more charismatic version of himself flirts and banters with you through multiple dances. He listens as the young soldier leans in close to your ear and tells you how you took the breath out of his lungs the moment you walked into the bar. He starts to feel a little nauseas and wonders if heâs finally heading into his own bout with time sickness when he hears the sound of a genuine laugh slipping past your lips at whatever it was that the young soldier said to you.
           It isnât long before Buckyâs ripping the in-ear monitor out and tossing it on the kitchen table. He paces back and forth, focusing on the sound of his feet thudding against the wooden floorboards. Donât go too far with him tonight. Bucky can still hear the way he pleaded with you earlier today. It was pathetic, but it was heartfelt. This younger version of himself would be completely on board with your mission even if youâd just flashed him a smile. Fuck. He runs his hands through his hair and curls his fingers into the soft brown locks, tugging them away from his scalp as he stops pacing. What the hell is he doing? You invited him into bed last night. You slept next to him. You let him slip between your legs and eat you out so thoroughly that he swears he can still taste you now. You let him finger your pussy just so he could find out if you were lying or not. Youâre not going to let this younger version of him take things too far after all of that, right?
           Bucky exhales through his nose as he sinks back into one of the kitchen chairs and stares down at the earpiece on the table. He takes it in his flesh hand and rolls it between his middle and index finger for a moment, knowing he has to put it back in. When did he turn into such a jealous guy?
           The young Sergeant Barnes is captivated by you. He watches from the bar as you breeze through casual conversation with Peggy. You have a way of seeming so genuinely interested in anything that anyone says to you. You wholeheartedly hang on every word spoken and you get this look in your eye like nothing is more important to you than whateverâs being said. You seemed every bit as invested in Buckyâs spiel about Ferris wheels as you were when he leaned into your ear and told you about his family back home.
           âSheâs a lady, Buck.â Steve says lightly, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a short sip. Bucky swirls amber colored whiskey around in the bottom of his glass as his blue eyes glimmer in the low lights of the bar. âDonât get any ideas, she works with Peggy.â
           âYou work with Peggy.â Bucky points out, casting him a disapproving glance before zeroing in on you again. âAnd you have ideas.â
           âI have ideas.â Steve mumbles, nodding curtly in surrender. He canât lie to Bucky.
           âYou donât want to take your ideas over there and ask her to dance?â Bucky shifts his gaze to Peggy. He can almost imagine her proper accent as he watches her lips move in conversation with you. He has no doubt, just from the little interaction between Steve and Peggy when you girls first arrived at the bar, that Steveâs head over heels. Not only Steve, but Peggyâs envisioning a life with him too.
           âItâs not the right time.â Steve replies, setting his mug down on the bar and turning to face the same direction as Bucky. Â
           âIf you keep waiting, youâll miss the time entirely.â
           âCan you miss fate?â Steve asks thoughtfully. Peggy lifts her gaze and turns her head slightly to the side, meeting his gaze across the bar for a fleeting second.
           âIâm not going to wait around here with you and find out.â Buckyâs downing the last of his whiskey and heading for you just as Peggyâs heading for Steve. His eyes are all over you as he approaches, sending your confidence soaring and your nerves stirring in the pit of your stomach. When he steps in close and wraps an arm around your waist, letting his right hand rest on the small of your back, you melt into his touch.
           âHow much of London have you seen?â He whispers the question in your ear, letting his lips ghost so close to your ear that a shiver rolls through you.
           âNot enough.â You admit, biting down on your bottom lip as he curls his fingertips against the back of your dress.
           âLet me show you?â Itâs a request. But when he pulls back and looks into your eyes, thereâs no way you could deny him.
           No. Buckyâs clenching his fists atop the safehouse kitchen table as he listens to the sound of his younger self pushing open some creaky door. The din of the bar fades into the background as your heels click against pavement. Youâre outside of the bar now. Youâre not going to see London, thatâs for fucking sure. Bucky grits his teeth as his own voice plays through the earpiece. Heâs never wanted to wring his own neck so damn bad.
           âThere are a lot of parts of the city that arenât safe with the war going on, but if you work with Peggy, Iâm guessing youâre used to that.â You stand still at the side exit of the bar, watching as Bucky carefully places his army uniform hat over his head. Somehow, the dark brick walls of the alley make his eyes seem more blue. Â
           âAre we going somewhere dangerous, Sergeant Barnes?â You ask softly, looking up at him through your lashes as he straightens up his uniform jacket. You let your eyes coast down, taking in the sight of him in full uniform. Why donât they still dress men this way?
           âSergeant Barnes, hm?â He repeats the name slowly, taking two steps toward you as you take one step back toward the brick side wall of the Whip and Fiddle.
           âThatâs your name, isnât it?â
           âYou donât like calling me Bucky?â Another step forward and the fabric of his jacket is brushing against the fabric of your dress as your back meets the brick wall. He leans in and raises his arms, letting his palms rest against the brick on either side of your head as he cages you in. Truthfully, you donât like calling him Bucky. Youâve avoided saying his name all night. It feels weird, it feels wrong. Just last night you were moaning that name with a slightly different man between your legs. By calling this one something different, you can at least separate the two a tiny bit.
           âYou donât like when I call you Sergeant Barnes?â You skirt around his question with one of your own. He chuckles as a smug look spreads over his features. He drops his head lower and lower until his lips are a mere inch away from yours and his blue eyes are staring so far into you that youâre sure he can see every thought in your spiraling mind.
           âYou can call me anything you want and Iâm damn sure Iâll love it.â He whispers. Your eyes track the movement of his tongue as it darts out and wets his lips.
           Your world shifts when you grab the front of his jacket and pull him in. His lips are soft as they part against yours and move in the way that only men named Bucky Barnes seem to move their lips. He kisses you like heâs done it countless times in every timeline that exists. Even as rain begins pattering down, soaking his uniform and your dress, you only tug on his jacket a little harder and angle your head to the side. As his tongue dances along your bottom lip, you hesitate for the shortest second. You can hear a voice echoing in your head, asking you not to go too far tonight, but his tongue is in your mouth and your guilt only multiplies when the taste of honey-tinged whiskey soaks into your taste buds.
           You taste like honey.
           You remember the first time your version of Bucky slipped his tongue into your mouth as the rain begins to pour down. You donât mean to be so rash, but youâre loosening your grip on the uniform jacket and pressing your palms flat against his chest in an instant.
           âWhat were you drinking tonight?â You ask in a raspy whisper. You let Bucky stay close enough that your foreheads are nearly touching as he sucks in a deep breath and bites his bottom lip. Shaking his head like youâve just asked him the most out of pocket question heâs ever heard, he releases his bottom lip slowly.
           âFour Roses.â He answers just as quietly. You nod to yourself as you commit the name to memory. He lets his left hand trail down the wet brick wall, moving it closer and closer to your face until you feel his warm palm press against your cheek. The fact that his palm isnât a cool vibranium metal one contrasting with your heated skin makes you draw in a sharp breath and close your eyes. Why the fuck are you having so much trouble with this? You should be able to make out with the guy and put on a convincing act for five minutes. But no, he tastes like honey and youâre done for. Youâre suddenly acutely aware of just how long itâs been since you heard even the tiniest noise through your earpiece, and your guilt increases tenfold. As if the man before you can read your mind, he lets his hand fall away from your face. âYouâre not mine to kiss like this, are you?â
           âThatâs the problem.â You whisper shakily, curling your fingers into the coarse fabric of his jacket lapels one more time. Your eyes float upward and meet his as you fight the urge to swallow the words youâre about to speak. âI think I am, and that scares the hell out of me.â
           Something changed for you at the Whip and Fiddle tonight. Peggy isnât quite sure what it is, but she senses it. She senses it in the air in the same way she senses the coming rain. Even if she couldnât see the dark clouds gathering along the edge of the city, if she couldnât smell the rain in the air, she could feel the atmosphere changing as the storm approaches. Everything is set for tomorrow. The Howling Commandos are going to take down yet another HYDRA base, and now that you have an in with the fortyâs version of Bucky, it shouldnât be all too hard to use the connection to your advantage and slip inside of the base yourself. As far as he knows, you work with Peggy and you can hold your own pretty damn well. So, as you sit in the passenger seat of Peggyâs car staring straight ahead, why do you seem so off? If everything is going according to plan so far, whatâs wrong with you?
           âSergeant Barnes seemed quite taken with you.â Peggy comments as she guides the car away from the city. Youâre not really paying much attention to her words, not when youâre still mulling over the realization you came to when you kissed the young sergeant in the alley earlier tonight. You couldnât stand the fact that his left hand was his own, or that he was missing that characteristic darkness around him. It was Bucky, of course, but it wasnât really Bucky. It wasnât the Bucky you know. Sure, when you kissed him he tasted the same, he even smelled the same. But you were kissing a version of Bucky that hasnât yet experienced any of the things that made the man you slept next to last night. You feel like youâve been carrying around a perfectly crafted piece of pottery, neatly sculpted and fired in a kiln. Itâs been hardened and glazed with dark earthy tones, completely finished. Then, someone shoved that piece of pottery into the back of a kitchen cabinet and handed you a wet mound of clay. You donât want the soft, unmolded version of Bucky. You want the hardened, finished version.
           âHe still drinks the same whiskey.â You donât know why youâre dwelling on that little detail. You reach up with one hand and press your fingers against your lips, feeling a frustrating warmth awaken low in your stomach. Peggy looks over at you briefly, not letting her gaze linger for long before her eyes are back on the road ahead.     Â
           âSteve and IâŠwe wait until itâs too late, donât we?â Peggyâs question snaps you out of your thoughts and your hand drops to your lap quickly. You turn your head and stare at her, but she remains focused on the dark street that the car is rolling down.
           âWhat makes you ask that?â
           âI have a feeling.â She sighs heavily, pursing her red lips at the end of her sentence. âI have a feeling that we donât allow ourselves that happiness in this lifetime, and youâre not allowing it for yourself either.â
           âItâs different for me.â
           âHow so?â She asks softly, taking a right turn. The car begins coasting down a street you recognize and you know the safehouse is just a couple of minutes away now.
           âItâs just different. I canât just give in and see if things turn out okay. We work together, we live across the hall from each other.â Youâre grasping for excuses.
           âYou trust the man with your life but you donât want to trust him with your heart?â
           Peggy has a way with words. You donât have a response for her as she slows down and turns into the driveway of Howard Starkâs house a couple of minutes later. As the car idles in front of the house, you feel a heavy weight settling on your shoulders.
           When you reach the front door, you find that Buckyâs left it unlocked for you. You slip in quietly, leaning against the wall of the foyer for a second to gather your thoughts. The house is mostly dark except for a small light glowing in the kitchen. Your stomach is churning as you tiptoe through the foyer and peer into the kitchen, careful not to let your heels tap on the floor. You see no sign of Bucky there. When you turn your eyes to the dark living room, you see him sitting in the middle of couch with his back to you.
           âThe mission is set for tomorrow.â Your words come out sounding meek and uneasy as you stare at the back of Buckyâs head. Heâs leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees like heâs lost in thought. He doesnât even move at the sound of your voice and nervousness starts to bubble up inside of you. âBucky?â He visibly tenses at the sound of his name rolling off of your tongue.
           âI stopped listening when you kissed him.â Bucky rubs his palms together slowly as he stares down at the living room carpet. He doesnât move from the couch, and he can tell by the silence behind him that youâre not moving either. âHonestly, I didnât think it would bother me that much.â Bucky lies, tracing the lines of his vibranium hand with his flesh index finger. Itâs dark, but he has the golden crevices memorized.
           âBullshit.â You say flatly, crossing your arms over your chest. âYou knew it would bother you, but you swore I was the right person for this op anyway.â Youâre not going to let him act like you did something wrong, when youâre doing exactly what you were brought here to do. You watch the back of Buckyâs head as he nods slowly.
           âOkay, that was bullshit.â Bucky agrees. Rain begins to patter against the roof, starting out slow and soft but quickly picking up until the sound of it is filling the house. âI knew it would bother me. I guess I just didnât expect you to let him take things so far.â
           âHow far do you think he took things?â You ask incredulously, with offense evident in your tone. If Bucky stopped listening when the kiss first started in the alley of the bar, then he didnât hear a damn thing. He didnât hear the brevity of the kiss or the way you pushed back and stopped it. He didnât hear you coming to the realization that you already belong to him. He didnât hear shit.
           âPretty damn far, if heâs me.â You scoff at his answer and run a hand through your hair, leaving it looking a little tousled and messy.
           âItâs 1943. If pretty damn far means we kissed and went back inside then sure, he went pretty damn far.â
           âThatâs it?â Bucky asks, pushing himself up to stand and turning around to face you. The couch and a few feet of distance stand between the two of you as Bucky raises a brow. He doesnât believe you.
           âHeâs not like this modern version of you.â You say defensively, gesturing at him as you speak. âHe didnât want anything more than a kiss from me.â You know your words arenât necessarily true, but you say them anyway. Bucky shoots you a pointed look before shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest.
           âYeah, he did."
           âNo, he didnât.â You argue childishly, narrowing your eyes at him. âHe was sweet and kind and we had innocent fun.â
           âInnocent?â Bucky repeats the word and narrows his eyes at you in return. You bend one knee and lift your ankle up toward your ass as you start undoing your heels.
           âThatâs what I said.â You huff as your heels clatter to the floor and you push them over to the nearest wall with your foot.
           âI was anything but innocent in the forties.â Bucky says lowly. When your eyes land on him, heâs approaching you slowly, moving around the couch but keeping his gaze trained on you. Something about the way heâs looking at you is dark, making your skin feel warm and your muscles tense up. Bucky runs a hand through his messy hair as he continues taking slow steps in your direction. âYouâre really telling me he didnât have you pushed up against a brick wall in some dark alley tonight?â
           You swallow hard, feeling like a kid caught in a lie. Of course he knows exactly what happened. He doesnât need comms or a surveillance team to know what he himself wouldâve done with a pretty girl on a night out. You say nothing as Bucky moves around the couch and comes to stand right in front of you. You take a small step back as he invades your space, but he doesnât stop. He presses forward until heâs backing you against the living room wall.
           Buckyâs fighting to keep up the charade. He wants nothing more than to just be honest and tell you that heâs jealous. He wants to tell you that even though it was only another version of himself that you went out with tonight, he couldnât fucking stand it. He needs you to know that he sat here for hours, thinking about nothing but you. He watches you with an intense gaze as your back collides with the wall and you look up at him through your lashes. Heâs so close that he can see the wispy black mascara tinting them. It isnât smudged in the slightest bit and that, at the very least, calms him a little. Buckyâs hands find your hips and he holds you still against the wall as he leans in and nudges the curve of your jaw with the tip of his nose.
           âHe didnât touch you like this?â Bucky whispers against your neck, as his flesh hand glides around to your ass. He grabs a handful and curls his fingertips against the soft fabric of your dress. You offer no response, because although you didnât let him touch you like that, you know Bucky wonât believe you now. Bucky groans as he nips at the column of your throat, taking your silence as confirmation. He kisses his way up to your lips and then drags his tongue up your chin until heâs letting it delve into your mouth. You tilt your head as he kisses you, feeling a burn in your chest from the lack of air. He pulls back suddenly, and cradles the back of your head with the same hand that was just grabbing your ass. âHe didnât kiss you like that?â He questions, already assuming the answer. You whimper as Bucky tugs on your hair lightly and moves his lips down to your neck again. Instead of simply kissing your skin this time, he sucks on it and scrapes his teeth down toward your collarbone. When he lets go of your hair and slides his hand down your thigh, your back arches off the wall and you swear you feel him smile before he pulls back and smirks down at you coldly. Curling his fingers behind your thigh, he hitches your leg up around his hip and uses his body to push you further into the wall. âHe didnât pull your leg up like this?â
           Itâs as if Buckyâs following a script. He knows himself so well that heâs able to carry out every single move his younger self would have made on you if youâd let things continue in the alley earlier. Bucky leans in and presses one last chaste kiss to your lips before he steps away from you entirely, leaving you struggling to catch your breath as he turns on his heel. You watch, thoroughly flustered, as he heads right back to the living room and takes a seat on the center cushion of that ugly vintage couch.
           âThatâs what I thought.â He says lowly, causing a pang of guilt to bubble up inside of you. You let out an exaggerated sigh before reaching behind yourself and undoing the back of your dress. Bucky listens as you let the dress slip off of your frame and fall to the floor. Heâs still for a moment, refusing to look back as you stand there in nothing more than a lacy black bra and matching panties. You glare at the back of his head for a second too long before stalking off to find a t-shirt and some sweats to put on before you continue the conversation at hand.
           âYou donât get to judge me for what he did tonight, for what you think he did.â You say coldly as you emerge from the bedroom a few seconds later. Buckyâs still sitting on the couch, now with both of his arms outstretched along the back cushions and an almost bored expression on his face. âYou told me that your younger self would swoon and thatâs exactly what happened. You knew what you were sending me into, you knew heâd want to do all of those things. So, if you want to be pissed, be pissed at yourself. Your current self or your former self, I donât care. But stop being pissed at me.â Your feet thud against the hard floor, overtaking the sound of rain pouring down on the roof as you come to stand in front of the couch, facing Bucky.
           âIâm not pissed at you.â He says plainly, cocking his head to one side as he studies you. Youâre wearing an oversized white t-shirt that he assumes you pulled from his side of the closet, rather than picking any of the forties-style pajamas from your own side.
           âThen why make me feel like I did something wrong? I did exactly what I was supposed to do on this mission.â
           âIâm jealous.â His confession sucks the air out of your lungs and leaves you stunned.
           âWhat?â
           âIâm jealous.â He repeats calmly, looking you right in the eyes. âIt took everything I had not to stop you from leaving earlier. I knew what heâd do. I knew that heâd kiss you, that heâd take every inch you gave him and ask for a mile more.â The fact that Buckyâs so calm and stoic as he confesses all of this has you shaken to your core.
           âNo, you donât get to do this.â You say angrily, running both hands through your hair as you turn away from him. Heâs sitting there with his arms outstretched along the back of the couch and his expression as unreadable as ever and itâs only making you more mad. âYou donât get to say shit like that to me. You donât get to be jealous. You sent me into that situation even after I made it abundantly clear that I didnât think I was the right person for this mission.â You turn back around and look at Bucky with a fiery rage burning in your eyes, but then your gaze settles on his calm, almost serene expression. He cocks his head to the side as you study him, with whatever angry words you were about to spit at him temporarily on hold. Your eyes float down his chest, passing over the dark t-shirt heâs sporting. With the way his arms are outstretched along the back of the couch, you can see the outline of his abs clearly through his thin shirt. When your eyes land on the front of his sweats, you notice two things. The first is that he's sitting with his legs spread in a way that tells you heâs comfortable as hell on that ugly couch. The second is that his cock is semi-hard and pressing against the fabric of those sweats shamelessly.
           You want to leave. You want to head for the front door and run out into the rain, losing yourself somewhere in this city that you donât know and this timeline that you donât belong in. You donât want to be in this house with Bucky for another minute. You canât think straight when youâre around him. Here you are, angry as hell over something you canât even recall in this exact moment, because when you look at him and he looks at you this wayâŠyouâre torn between wanting to run and wanting to straddle him right there on the couch. Bucky can tell exactly whatâs on your mind when your eyes zero in on his lap. Even though the anger hasnât dissipated from your features, he can tell itâs sitting on the edge of an abyss, ready to fall in and disappear if he says the right thing.
           âGo ahead.â Bucky says firmly, narrowing his eyes at you.
           âWhat?â You cross your arms over your chest like heâs seen you do a thousand times before as you stand in front of him. You watch as Bucky looks down at his lap for a moment, letting his gaze linger on his thighs before he lifts his head up and stares into your soul. Your heart begins to race as he tilts his head to the side slowly, the expression on his face never changing.
           âSit.â
           The three seconds that you stare back at Bucky with your arms crossed over your chest feel like three hours to him. When you finally do take a step forward and let your arms reach out to him, heâs fighting to hold in a sigh of relief. You move slowly, lifting your right knee up to the edge of the couch first and letting it touch the outside of his left thigh. When your left knee lands on the couch beside his right leg, you carefully position yourself over his lap as your hands come to rest on his shoulders. Buckyâs fingertips curl into the fabric of the couch as he wills himself to keep his arms along the back of it, refusing to grab your hips and guide you to sit on his lap himself. Youâre apprehensive as you stare down into his blue eyes and sink onto his lap at a painstakingly snail-like pace. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the outline of his erection pressing against the black lace panties you have on underneath the white t-shirt, but you donât stop. You seat yourself firmly on his lap, with your knees bent on either side of his hips and your palms pressed against his opposing warm and cool shoulders. It bothers you that he doesnât move his arms, that he doesnât try to touch you. It really bothers you that his expression is still unreadable, as if having you on his lap doesnât do a damn thing to him. If his cock wasnât hardening more and more with each passing second, youâd truly believe that you werenât having any sort of effect on him right now.
           âYou donât get to be jealous.â You whisper, shaking your head just barely as Bucky studies your face.    Â
           âWhy not?â
           âBecause this is justâŠâ Your eyes flit down to where your legs are spread over Buckyâs lap, but his never leave your face. He knows what youâre about to say and heâs already wishing you wouldnât. This is exactly what heâs been trying to avoid. âThis isnât real.â It feels every bit as shitty as he thought it would, hearing you say it out loud. The muscle along the side of his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth together. âItâs just tension. We let it build up too much and then we donât know how to handle it, and we think itâs something more butâ"
           âBut it isnât.â Bucky finishes your sentence stiffly. You nod, but your eyes are searching his. You want him to convince you, you want him to tell you that youâre wrong like he has before. You need him to tell you that this isnât just tension. But he stays quiet, staring at you like he doesnât really give a shit what you need right now. So, you ramble on.
           âMaybe if we take a break from being partners after this mission is over. We could let things cool off and give each other space.â The words tumble out of your mouth quickly, but they leave a bad taste. âBut itâs hard to give each other space when we live across the hall from each other.â Bucky nods along, cocking his head to the side as he watches you scramble for other options. He doesnât know why youâre still sitting on his lap if this is the direction youâre taking things, but he isnât ready to push you off and end this just yet. Not if it might be the last time you let him get this close to you.
           âDo you want space?â He asks lowly. You struggle to find a reasonable answer when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch as it slides across his bottom lip slowly before disappearing into his mouth. He shifts his legs beneath you slightly and it causes his hard cock to press against your barely clothed cunt just a little more firmly than before and you inhale sharply, curling your fingertips into his shoulders as he stills once again.
           âI want to stop thinking about you the way that Iâve been thinking about you.â Buckyâs heartbeat is rising steadily as your words sink in. Youâve been thinking about him. God, he wants to tangle his hands in your hair and pull you in closer, refusing to let go of you until you admit that you fucking want him. âI want to go back to when we had a normal, uncomplicated partnership in the field.â He wants to say fuck normal and uncomplicated and have his way with you, but he stays still. âI want to fuck.â
           Buckyâs stunned. He blinks twice before squinting his eyes at you and letting out a long, slow breath.
           âYou want to fuck.â Bucky repeats under his breath, seeming like he doesnât think heâs heard you right. You nod, coming to the realization that thatâs exactly what you want.
           âMaybe if we fuck, it would all just go away.â Bucky scoffs as soon as youâve said it. Heâs never felt as frustrated as he is right now. It isnât just emotional frustration, but sexual as well. Youâre fucking tormenting him. While you sit on his lap actively denying the fact that this thing between you is real, youâre simultaneously telling him you want to have sex with him. You tried sleeping it off once before and it didnât work out for you, so now you want to fuck the feelings away. Heâs pissed honestly. As he sits there, with his arms outstretched along the back of the couch and the girl heâs in love with on his lap, heâs pissed.
           âGo ahead then.â He says roughly, jutting his chin out at you as his eyes flit down to where your legs are spread over him. âGo ahead and see if you can fuck it all away. Itâll work about as well as when you tried to sleep it off, but Iâm willing to let you give it a shot.â
           Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain patters against the windows as tensions rise all around you. It feels like the thunderstorm outside has somehow shifted through the walls and lightning could strike you at any given moment. Though your heart is racing and your breaths are coming in quicker than before, you donât back down. You maintain eye contact as you lift your ass up slightly and then grind back down, dragging the fabric of your lace panties along the front of Buckyâs sweats. You feel his cock twitch in its confines, but his face never changes. Fuck him and his perpetually cold expression. You grind down again, harder this time, and watch as his hands curl into fists at the ends of his outstretched arms. What do you have to do to get him to put those hands on you?
           Lightning strikes somewhere outside as you lean in and dip your head down, pressing your lips to the side of Buckyâs neck in an open-mouthed kiss. You feel his pulse thumping in his carotid artery as your tongue swipes over it. If youâre going to get this out of your system, you canât take your time. You need this to be quick and dirty. Bucky senses that and isnât surprised at all when your right hand starts tugging at the waistband of his sweats.
           âI said go ahead.â He rasps, tilting his head to the side to give you more access to his neck. âTake what you want.â You take the encouragement and run with it, slipping your hand into the waistband of his sweats and boxers, quickly finding his length and wrapping your hand around it. He lets out a shaky but controlled breath as you start stroking his cock. He has to bite down on his bottom lip when you tighten your grip around the head and he feels his precum wet your palm. This is going to haunt him forever. He wants this, you, so fucking bad that heâs willing to take whatever he can get. And this is the most he can get. Your hand is around his cock with the sole intention of fucking around with him until you forget your feelings. He should feel used. He does feel used, but if youâre only okay with using him, then heâs fine with it. Heâs fine with it because he fucking loves you.
           You feel Buckyâs chest rise and fall at a quicker pace against your own as his cock twitches in your hand. Thunder shakes the house again and a tear slips down your cheek. It feels clinical when you push Buckyâs waistband down further and drag your lips along the curve of his jaw.
           âHe kissed me outside of the bar.â You whisper against the column of Buckyâs throat, hating the way he tenses up underneath you. You let your hand fall away from his cock and shift it between your legs, tugging your lace panties to the side beneath the oversized t-shirt. âAnd I couldnât fucking stand it.â Your voice breaks and Bucky curls his fingers into the couch cushions so hard that he mightâve heard them rip if the storm raging outside wasnât so loud. âYou werenât listening, so you didnât hear me stop him.â Another tear falls as you rise up on your knees and guide the head of Buckyâs length to where it belongs. âBut I stopped him.â Lightning strikes and you swear it nearly hits the house as you let out a shaky breath and start lowering yourself down. The sheer size of him makes your thighs ache and the walls of your cunt burn with the stretch. âI stopped him and he knew, before I said anything, that I wasnât his to kiss.â Bracing your hands back on Buckyâs shoulders, you sink down onto him one slow inch at a time as he stares up at you. His expression isnât so unreadable now. Itâs showcasing the torment he feels, the torture youâre putting him throughâŠthe torture heâs enduring just because he loves you.
           âWhose are you then?â He asks, his voice tense and strained as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. He can tell by the look in your eyes that youâre not going to answer his question. You know the answer, the tears rimming your pretty eyes and the pleading look taking over your face tell him that much. But you just canât bring yourself to say it out loud. Youâre his.
           You didnât give yourself any time to adjust to his size and youâre paying for it as you start riding him. You move slow at first, lost in the way heâs looking at you, wondering why the hell he wonât touch you. But as the storm picks up outside, so does your pace. Faster and faster you lift and lower your hips until it couldnât possibly be more obvious that youâre trying to fuck your feelings away. Buckyâs pushing past the obscene sounds of skin against skin, past the rumbling thunder and heavy rain on the rooftop, until all he can hear is your heartbeat. You donât even realize youâre doing it, but youâre timing each bounce of your hips with the steady beat of your heart. He focuses in on that when the walls of your pussy begin fluttering violently around his shaft, because if he lets himself focus on anything else, heâll fall over the edge with you and he refuses to let it happen this way. Your goal isnât to get him off, itâs to get something out of your system.
           Bucky clenches his teeth when you start coming undone around him, he clenches his teeth and his vibranium arm whirs loudly along the back of the couch as you grip his shoulders and ride out your orgasm. Itâs only a few seconds later when you blink your eyes open and let a few tears fall onto the fabric of his shirt.
           âDid it work?â Bucky asks breathlessly, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around you and pull you against his chest.
           âWhat?â
           âDid you fuck it out of your system?â He narrows his eyes at you. Heâs sure the answer is no, but he isnât so sure that youâll admit it. As you stare back into his blue eyes, he can tell youâre giving up and something akin to hope stirs in his chest. You shake your head gently, loosening your grip on his shoulders as the weight of your silent confession settles over you both. âOkay, letâs try again.â
           Bucky doesnât give you a chance to full catch your breath before heâs slipping his flesh arm around your back and rising from the couch, keeping his cock buried inside of you.
           âBuckyââ
           âYou want it out of your system, donât you?â He asks roughly, carrying you away from the couch and toward the kitchen table. You swallow hard as he skillfully uses his vibranium hand to shove a kitchen chair to the side before laying you down on the table. Still, his cock never leaves your pussy. âIf we go at it from another angleâŠâ Buckyâs voice trails off as he pulls his hips backward slowly until only the tip of his cock is left inside of you. You whimper at the loss of his length, hating the way your pussy fights to grip onto what heâs left you with. Bucky pushes your white t-shirt up until itâs sitting just below your bra. Though he doesnât let himself get a glimpse of your chest, he has no problem with sliding his hands beneath the shirt and running his palms over your breasts. You arch into his touch and another whimper leaves your lips. âThis might be the right angle.â He whispers, dragging his hands down until his fingers are curling into your hips roughly. You see stars when he pistons his hips forward so hard that the table shakes beneath the force and you feel him brushing against your cervix.
           âFuck.â You moan the word out as your tears begin to dry. Your hands circle around Buckyâs wrists as he holds your hips in place and starts fucking you relentlessly. Your mascara is smudged beneath your eyes but you still look so pretty that it hurts him to look at you. You wrap your legs around him as his head falls back a little and a guttural groan escapes him. It feels so damn good, you feel so damn good, but this isnât how he wants you. Your whimpers and occasional swears turn into uninhibited, borderline pornographic moans as he fucks you until youâre lost in the bliss of it all.
           âIf you cum on my cock a second time, is it going to be enough?â He wonders aloud, slowing the pace of his thrusts and simultaneously deepening them as much as he possibly can. His balls press against your ass as a loud clap of thunder leaves the lights flickering. Youâre shaking your head before your brain has a chance to reason with your heart. It wonât be enough. âYou donât think so? You seemed pretty damn sure of yourself when you said that this isnât real. Cumming on my cock this time should be enough for you.â
           âShit, Bucky.â You let out a frustrated moan as he pulls his hips back slowly and starts giving your cunt the most shallow thrusts yet.
           âThis is so fucking real to me that Iâd let you do it a thousand times if thatâs what it takes to make you realize youâre wrong.â Bucky snaps his hips forward and hits your cervix again, admiring the way your body reacts to him as your back arches off of the table and your t-shirt rides up a little more. A tiny bit of the black lace of your bra peeks out beneath your shirt and Bucky lets out another groan before thrusting hard again. He wanted to slow down and make you feel even just a shred of the torment heâs been feeling tonight, he wanted to give you shallow, unrhythmic thrusts and delay your orgasm, but heâs already fucking his cock into you at an unforgiving pace and depth. His name falls from your lips in a breathless moan as your fingernails leave little crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his wrists and your pussy tightens around his shaft all over again. He has to bite down on the inside of his cheek, nearly drawing blood, just to keep from cumming with you. His own level of restraint is surprising himself. He hasnât done something like this in decades and yet, heâs holding himself together pretty damn well.
           âBucky.â You gasp as your orgasm washes over you and he continues to pump his cock into you. He lets his thrusts slow more and more with each passing second until heâs just lazily circling his hips, giving you the faintest sensation of pleasure mixed with overstimulation.
           âDid it work that time?â He asks between pants. He lets go of your hips as his eyes scan over the expanse of your skin where he had gripped you so tightly before, checking for marks. He can see his own handprints on each hip, but they arenât red enough that he thinks heâs left bruises. You stare up at him as a sigh of relief slips past his lips. When his eyes finally meet yours, you know heâs waiting for an answer.
           âIt didnât.â You admit. The lights flicker again, going out for a few seconds before coming back on. âIâm sorry Iââ
           âI donât want to hear you say sorry.â God, thatâs not at all what he wants to hear you say. He wants to hear you say you were wrong or that you were lying and this is as real to you as it is to him. He wants to hear you say that no matter how many times his cock slides into your pussy, the feelings arenât going anywhere. As his hands find yours and your fingers intertwine, he tugs you up into a sitting position on the edge of the table and then slips his palms around to cup your ass as he lifts you once more. âWeâre going to try this one more time and if it doesnât work, if you canât fuck the feelings awayâŠâ His voice trails off as the lights flicker one final time before shutting off completely. Bucky carries you down the hall and through the bedroom door in near total darkness. Every few seconds, lightning flashes and illuminates the house through the windows and sheer curtains, and you get a glimpse of Buckyâs serious face. âIf this doesnât work, you have to say it.â Keeping his flesh arm around your lower back, he lowers you onto the bed, hovering over you as his still-hard cock slips out of your sore cunt. You prop yourself up on your elbows as he stands at the foot of the bed and reaches back over his shoulders, grasping the fabric of his t-shirt and tugging it over his head in one smooth move. Lighting strikes again and you watch, with warmth pooling low in your stomach, as Bucky pushes his sweats and boxers down to the floor.
           âI have to say what?â You ask, fighting hard to keep the stutter out of your question. Bucky wraps his right hand around the base of his cock tightly, but he doesnât dare stroke it. He gives it a quick squeeze before moving that same hand down and palming his balls in an effort to slow himself down.
           âYou have to say that youâre mine.â He has no idea that youâve already said it once tonight. He took his earpiece out, thinking you were having a heated moment with another man, when you were really telling that man exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.
           âThatâs how this works? You fuck me a few times and then Iâm yours?â
           Bucky canât stop the dark, hair-raising chuckle that tumbles past his lips when you tilt your head to the side and narrow your eyes at him. He moves toward the bed slowly, placing one knee on the end of the mattress and leaning forward until both of his palms are flat on the bed. Heâs hovering over you, his face only a few inches from yours when a burst of thunder rings out.
           âYouâve been mine since the day we met, sweetheart. I just let you run around and deny it for too damn long.â Your breath hitches in your throat as he angles his chin toward the headboard, silently letting you know that he wants you to move further up on the bed. You scoot backward, keeping your eyes on him as the room grows impossibly warmer and goosebumps prickle over your skin. When your back lands flat on the bed and your head is laid comfortably on the only pillow there, Buckyâs over you in an instant, nudging your legs apart with his knee as he settles between them. The head of his cock, still dripping with precum, presses against the lace of your panties and he hisses at the contact. He hasnât let himself cum yet and heâs dangerously close to losing control over his impending orgasm.
           âSince the day we met?â You ask, scrunching up your face in confusion as you think of all of the missions youâve been on, all of the senseless arguments and shit-giving. Did it all have a deeper meaning for him? Bucky nods as he stills above you and braces himself with his arms next to either side of your head. When he looks into your eyes you can tell that heâs straining to maintain his composure and it almost makes you feel guilty. Here you are two orgasms in and heâs hanging on by a fucking thread. You slide your hand down between your bodies, wrapping it around his length and giving it a few long, slow pumps as his eyes flutter closed and his head falls to your shoulder.
           âI canât stand you.â You say evenly, as he starts rutting into your hand carelessly. His small thrusts are sloppy and restrained, but he continues on as you stroke his cock and smear his precum around the length of it. He groans in response and bites down on your shoulder hard enough to make you inhale sharply. âI canât stand the way you slept so close to me last night, because the next time I sleep alone, Iâll feel like somethingâs missing.â Bucky freezes, but you continue your ministrations with your right hand. He doesnât lift his head, fearing that if he so much as moves an inch youâll stop talking. âI canât stand the way you say my name, because when anyone else says it, it doesnât sound as good.â He lets out a shaky breath as he builds up the courage to move. Snaking his vibranium hand down between your legs, he starts tugging your panties to the side just like he did earlier. You move in tandem with him, guiding the head of his cock to your entrance as he clears the way. âAnd I really canât stand the way you kiss me, because if I ever let anyone else kiss me, Iâll only ever be disappointed.â
           Bucky pulls his head back and stares down at you with a furrowed brow, looking as though heâs thinking hard. The head of his cock notches into your pussy and he pushes his hips forward just enough to sink the first couple of inches inside of you, watching as your mouth falls open and your eyes close tightly. Heâs staring at you with such an intense focus in his blue eyes that when you finally look back up at him, you feel like his gaze alone is burning a hole through your head. You spread your legs a little, bending your knees slightly to give him a better angle as he pulls his hips back slowly. When only the head of his cock is sheathed inside of you, he licks his bottom lip before snapping his hips forward and delivering one hard, deep thrust that forces the headboard to slam against the wall.
           âI love you.â Bucky says the three words with conviction, with a confidence youâve never heard before. You wait a few seconds, trying to recover from the earth-shattering sensations of your pussy being destroyed and actual bliss. His words sink into your skin and melt into your soul with an unexpected warmth as he drags his cock out of you and then pushes back in again. He loves you.
           âYou canât stand me.â You correct, not even trying to hide the smile thatâs beginning to spread across your lips as Bucky starts setting a rhythmic pace. He laughs, but then groans as you scrape your nails down his back roughly.
           âI canât, but stillâŠâ
           âYou love me.â You repeat smugly, finishing his sentence. He doesnât need you to say it back yet. Just the fact that you didnât shove him away and flee the house when he said it is enough for him right now. A few sultry moans play in his ears and he pushes himself up to sit on his knees, moving your legs so that one is over each of his shoulders before he starts fucking you so hard that he thinks Howard Stark might need to buy a new mattress, new headboard, and maybe even have the damn wall re-plastered.
           The next few minutes consist of nothing more than filthy, pornographic sounds. With skin slapping against skin, the headboard snapping against the wall, your moans, and Buckyâs strained groans, neither of you can really hear the storm raging outside anymore. You focus in on Bucky as much as you can, watching as his abs ripple and the muscles of his flesh arm flex repeatedly. He catches you staring at him as he fucks you and he holds eye contact, letting his mouth fall open and his eyelids drop down halfway as he watches you watch him. Filthy. Itâs filthy the way he's fucking his cock into you in someone elseâs bed. You moan his name out in a raspy tone and it sends him over the edge. He guides your legs down, setting them back on the bed before crawling over you and fucking you missionary while he swallows every moan you let out. His lips brush against yours over and over again, but you donât kiss. You breathe each other in until you feel his cock twitch and his thrusts grow sloppy.
           âFuck, Iâm gonna cum.â Bucky groans, thrusting a little harder and deeper as he nears his release. You grip his sides and bend your knees as your own orgasm looms. âYouâre so fucking tight andâŠ.fuck, youâre justâŠshit, baby.â
           âBucky, I love you.â
           He loses every last remnant of control when you finally admit it. He canât stop the flood of cum that starts spilling out of his cock and into you. Truthfully, he wouldnât want to stop it. He thrusts as deep as he can and grinds his hips into you, watching your eyes scrunch closed and your mouth fall open as you take every last drop of his cum. Itâs everything to him. Not you taking his cum this way, not you letting him have you like this, but you telling him the one thing he never thought you would. You love him.
           His post-orgasm haze should last longer than yours. He should be collapsed next to you on the bed right now, but as you lay beneath him trying to catch your breath, heâs staring down at you with perfect clarity.
           âIf you go back to pretending you donât feel anything after thisâŠâ Buckyâs voice trails off as he feels a good bit of his cum dripping out of you and back onto his shaft. He moves in a little closer and pushes his cock the rest of the way inside you as gently as possible, earning himself a whimper from your pretty lips.
           âYouâll what? Fuck me on another table?â You tease, smiling up at him. He shakes his head and bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to hide his own smile, but you catch it anyway.
           âWhy would I do that when there are so many other surfaces we havenât tried out yet?â
           âI hate you.â You retort playfully, sliding your hands up his chest and preparing to push him off of you. His cock hasnât softened in the slightest bit yet and you donât know if you can take another round tonight. His small smile turns into a hearty grin as his cock twitches again.
           âThatâs a lie.â He smirks, dragging his tongue along his teeth after speaking. You narrow your eyes at him as you realize heâs still leaning on his ridiculous theory that your pussy clenches down when you lie. âYou love me.â He says slowly, dropping his head down and pressing his lips against yours. He kisses you gently at first, pecking your lips twice before going in for a longer one. After a few seconds, he slips his tongue into your mouth and the longer he kisses you, the more weight you feel lifting from your shoulders. You didnât realize how exhausting it was to deny this for so long. But now that youâre here, letting it happen, you canât stop the tear that starts rolling down your cheek. Bucky pulls back as soon as he feels it, searching your eyes to see whatâs wrong. âWhat did I do?â He asks quickly, preparing to separate himself from you. You stop him, sliding your hands down his sides and curling your fingers against his skin to hold him in place.
           âNothing.â You answer honestly, smiling up at his look of concern even as that tear continues to roll down your cheek. âPeggy has a feeling that she and Steve wait too late in this lifetime, that they donât let themselves have this kind of happiness.â
           âI told you they end up together.â Bucky says gently, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the tear from your cheek.
           âI know. I wonder if this is how they felt when they finally made it back to each other.â Bucky takes a moment, really thinking about it before he moves a stray lock of hair away from your face and lets out a deep breath.
           âHow do you feel?â He asks, speaking with a soft tone as he eyes you closely.
           âLike if you asked me for a lifetime, it wouldnât scare the shit out of me.â
           As Bucky stares down at you, you can see that all of those times you thought his expression was so unreadable were because you didnât really want to read what was there. All you see in his eyes is love. Love and probably some kind of half-assed plan to ask you for a lifetime while his dick is inside you, just so he can see if youâre lying or not.
‷ thunderbolts*!bucky barnes x apothecary fem!reader
âïž warnings: nsfw, smut, thunderbolts fluff, opposites attract, slight enemies to lovers, grumpy and sunshine, sex pollen, dom!bucky, bucky is hungryyy, rough sex, angry sex, oral (m!receiving), intense eye contact
âïž word count: 8.6k
âïž a/n: probably my final thunderbolts fic huzzah before bucky gets slimed in doomsday (will edit this in a few months when the movie comes out)
synopsis:
The team is in dire need of a healer. So when Alexei mentions that he knows someone who's proficient with medicinal herbs, Bucky has his hesitations. How could someone possibly heal people with stupid plants and minerals? Then, upon meeting, you accidentally give Bucky a tincture that leaves him feeling all fuzzy and warm, proving his concerns exactly right. And only you can help him get rid of his ache.
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There is one thing many people know about the once Thunderbolts*, now appointed New Avengers, and no one knows it better than the team themselves: they get their asses kicked. A lot.
As a result, the team is now stuck trying to find a reliable healer who can patch up three super soldiers, a man who can turn into a void, an ex-widow, and a woman who can phase in and out of the visible spectrum.
âThereâs this woman I know,â Alexei rambles for what feels like the fourth time today, despite it barely being noon. âLovely lady. Lives in some... cottage somewhere.â He waves a hand like the gesture itself can fill in the blanks. âShe crafts these strange potions that can mend pretty much anything!â
âWhat, like a wizard?â John asks, raising a brow from where he sits on the couch.
âWizards donât exist,â Bucky interjects matter of factly.
âNo, not a wizard.â Alexei wags his fat finger. âBetter than a wizard. She gathers all these herbs and plants andââ
âSo... an apothecary?â Ava asks, one hand settling on her hip.
âWhat the hell is an apothecary?â Yelena squints, her gaze flicking between the group.
Alexei stands there, dumbfounded, mouth hanging slightly open at everyone else's audacity to interrupt. âIf you people would actually listen to me and let me explain, then you would know.â
Bob, slouched lazily on the couch beside John, raises a finger with a guileless smile. âIâm listening.â
âThank you, Bobââ
âI donât need to hear any more,â Bucky interrupts, pushing himself off the seat with a groan. âWe are not resorting to an apothecary.â
Alexei, dramatic as ever, throws his hands into the air in disbelief. He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but Bucky is just as ready to shut him down with a dismissive wave.
âIâm sure there are plenty of capable doctors out there with futuristic, high-quality equipment that can keep up with all of our abilities,â Bucky says gruffly, sweeping a wary gaze around the room as if daring someone to argue.
And John, of course, does.
âI donât think thatâs within our budget.â
âI canât believe weâre the Avengers on a budget,â Bob mutters, disappointed.
âNew Avengers,â Yelena corrects with a pointed look. âDonât forget the New.â
Bucky can already feel himself aging the longer he stays in this room. âRegardless, we are not going to some old woman who plays with flowers and leaves and calls herself a healer.â
âSheâs not an old woman,â Alexei mutters quietly, mostly because no one is listening to him anyway. âSheâs quite beautiful, actuallyââ
âI donât care,â Bucky cuts him off immediately, his face twisting into a muddled expression.
âWeâre going to find another healerâan actual licensed doctor who knows what theyâre doing. And thatâs final.â
Before anyone else can get a word in, he storms out of the room, his boots echoing against the floor. No one dares speak until the door clicks shut behind him.
Once the brooding soldier is gone, everyone finally lets out the breath theyâve been holding.
Yelena rolls her eyes. âSince when did he become the leader?â
Ava, John, and Bob shrug.
Yelena sighs before nodding at Alexei. âTell us more about this apothecary friend of yours.â
Itâs not often that you get visitors at your little cottage, tucked away beneath towering trees and overgrown grass. On the rare occasions you do expect someone, they already know your policy: all correspondence goes through mail-in letters. From there, you prepare whatever elixirs, salves, or tinctures they needâa process that usually takes daysâbefore they stop by to collect their order and go on their merry way.
So you can only imagine your surprise when you open the door to find Alexei of all people standing on your front porch.
âAlexei?â you frown, making no effort to hide your confusion. âWhat are you doing here? I wasnât expecting you.â
You peek past him, only to find what looks like a misfit party of five lingering at the foot of your steps like its Halloween and theyâre waiting for their candy.
Most of them look... reasonably okay to be there. Or, at the very least, resigned to it. But one man in particular looks like he had been dragged across the country by his metal arm and held at gunpoint just to stand still and play nice.
âAnd I certainly wasnât expecting visitors,â you add.
Alexei chuckles, scratching at his beard. âYeah... well, you know how it is. When duty calls. Or something like that.â
You raise a brow. âAnd what exactly is your duty calling for?â
âOur team needs a healer.â
To your surprise, Bucky is the first to speak, despite being the most reluctant to come here in the first place.
âAnd Alexei vouched for you,â he continues. âThough I donât know how much I trust his judgment.â He mutters the last part under his breath, but you hear him just fine.
Ava nudges him in the arm, a silent warning to show some class.
âWeâre interested in working with you,â Yelena says, deciding to take over. She steps onto your porch, subtly nudging Alexei aside. âAs the teamâs medic. Youâd be staying at the baseââ
You blink before letting out a small chuckle, lifting a hand to stop her.
âIâm sorry. You must be mistaken,â you say, offering the group an awkward smile. âI donât know what Alexei told you, or what youâve heard, but I donât work with groups.â
Yelena crosses her arms with a frown. âWhy not?â she asks. It is ironic, considering everyone in this group was a lone wolf before they were forcibly lumped together.
You gesture to the lush greenery surrounding the cottageâto the bright red strawberry bushes and the carefully tended patch of soil near the front.
âBecause everything my soul requires is right here, rooted in this very earth,â you say, your voice taking on a dreamy, sing-songy cadence that gives them goosebumps. Not in a good way. âThe soil sings to me. I cannot possibly hear the secrets of my remedies if I am near danger. All the chaos disrupts their vibrations. It simply isnât safe for me, or for my leafy little green children.â
âOh my god,â Bucky groans, his face twisting into a sour cringe. âIâm meeting you guys back inside the Quinjet. This is pointlessââ
âBucky,â John warns over his shoulder. âWe did not travel all this way just to turn around and leave. Letâs hear her out. Donât be rude.â
That makes Bucky stop, his brow twitching in annoyance at being lectured by John Walker of all people. He mutters something grumpy under his breath, crossing his arms and staying put.
âOkay, fine,â Yelena shrugs, âbut itâs just as my teammate saidâwe didnât travel all this way for nothing. Can we maybe work something out? How about we try one of your elixirs that we can take on the go? Just to keep us from getting killed on our missions until we find a real doctor.â She winces slightly at her last phrase. âNo offense.â
âNone taken,â you say, dismissing it with a serene smile. âThough, my precious brews are not mere trinkets to be pulled from a dusty cabinet. Each tincture must be sung to, tailored specifically to the unique essence of the soul who drinks it.â
Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you eye the team warily. You already know Alexei is a super soldier of some sort, and the man with the metal arm brings a whole host of concerns. Considering the rest of the groupâs heavy gear, you assume they all have their own peculiarâŠ. afflictions.
âI can make something for each of you, but it will take time.â
âAnd weâll pay you for your time,â Ava speaks up. âHow long?â
âThere are six of you,â you say, gesturing across the group. âIt will take about a week.â
John furrows his brows. âA week? Thatâs too long. We keep getting our asses kicked out there, and without proper medical care, itâs only a matter of time before weâre put into the ground for good.â
You tuck your hands behind your back, tilting your head slightly. You hate talking about moneyâyou explicitly moved out to this isolated cottage to get away from modern society and capitalismâbut everything comes with a price.
âI can get it done sooner. Maybe in about two days, max. But it will cost you extra.â
The team exchanges apprehensive glances before their eyes land on Bucky, the only one still openly against this. A silent debate seems to pass between the group until Bucky finally lets out a defeated sigh. The group nods in unison, reaching a quiet agreement.
âFine,â Yelena says. âWeâll take it. Whatâs the process?â
Your smile widens. âGood. I donât need muchâjust a list of each personâs specific powers and abilities. When I start brewing, I need to know exactly what I am working with.â
âOkay. Sure. That makes sense.â Yelena looks around the group, crossing her arms. âBut if we want this done in two days instead of seven, sheâs going to need an assistant. Someone to stay behind, write all this down, and help her keep the details straight.â
The team falls silent, everyone warily looking around to see who can get out of it.
Alexei is already shaking his head, gesturing to his massive hands. Ava looks away, unwilling to sit still in a remote cottage for forty-eight hours. Bob was out of the pictureâthey needed Bob. John looks like heâs about to volunteer, but Yelena cuts him off with a subtle warning look. Terrible idea.
Slowly, all eyes turn and lock onto Bucky.
It actually makes perfect sense.
Bucky Barnes was a literal U.S. Congressman. If anyone on this chaotic team knows how to organize information and keep a meticulous track record, itâs him.
Bucky realizes they are all staring at him and immediately shakes his head. âNo.â
âOh, come on, Bucky,â John says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. âI mean⊠despite the whole brainwashing thing, youâre pretty good at keeping track of details. You used to read policy packets for a living. Youâre perfect for it.â
âWhat?â Bucky scowls. âNo. I havenât even touched a single policy packet since I was in office.â
âEither way, we need someone to stay, and youâre the best fit,â Yelena interjects.
Bucky hates this. He hates the plan, and he especially hates the whole idea of an apothecary healer thing.
âThink about it,â John adds, trying to sound enthusiastic to help his case. It doesnât. âBeing out here kind of reminds you of your time back in Wakanda, doesnât it?â
Your eyes go wide with interest. âWakanda? Thatâs wonderful! I import many of my rarest herbs and minerals from Wakanda. Itâs a beautiful place.â
Alexei gives Bucky a heavy pat on the back, though it comes off more like a shove in your direction. âPerfect. Now you two have something to bond over.â
While you stand gleefully in the doorway, thrilled by the thought of having a personal assistantâespecially one who lived in WakandaâBucky stands frozen, holding an energy so dark it feels like it might wither your nearby plants if he so much as glares at them.
âYeah,â the grumpy soldier mumbles. âPerfect.â
Bucky has never seen anything like this before. When he spent time in Wakanda, it was the perfect blend of high technology and nature. Being here feels like he has been transported into a fairy tale book.
Except, you arenât the princess. You are more like a witch, moving briskly around the cottage. You set down glass vials and stone mortars while Bucky stands by the wooden table, looking entirely out of place as he holds a blank notepad and a pen at your command.
âAlright, letâs begin with the blonde oneâYelena,â you say, tossing a handful of blue petals into a mortar. âTell me of her physical trials. What are her abilities?â
Bucky is amused by the way veins pop out of your forearms as you work the stone pestleâlikely from years of grinding and manual labor. He thinks the contradiction to the white dress and apron you are wearing is funny.
âSheâs a Widow,â Bucky explains. âCame from the Red Room, so she has enhanced human conditioningââ
Before he can finish, you shoot him a look. He raises a brow in confusion, and your eyes point sharply down to the notepad in his hands to emphasize, why arenât you writing this down?
With a reluctant sigh, he starts writing down everything he just said.
âOkay,â you huff. âAnd what of her endurance? Her cellular recovery?â
Bucky shrugs. âItâs good, I guess.â
You frown. You canât tell if heâs purposefully being stubborn, or if he just isnât understanding you.
âCan you please be a little bit more specific?â
âShe recovers fine, alright?â Bucky grunts. âJust make a standard healing potion.â
You pause your work, blowing a stray strand of hair away from your face in mild frustration. You wipe your hands on your apron as you step closer to the table.
âI need you to listen to me very carefully,â you warn, meeting Buckyâs eyes. âIt is incredibly important that I know these details. My elixirs are potent. If I balance the herbs incorrectly because you are being stubborn, the side effects will be disastrous. Do you want your teammate to drink a remedy for a flesh wound and end up vomiting neon green bile for a week? Or worse, having her lungs seize up because it clashed with her natural chemistry?â
Bucky makes a face, lifting his pen from the notepad as if preparing to say something smart back. But then he stops.
You furrow your brows. âWhat was that?â
âWhat was what?â he tries to play dumb, which only annoys you more.
âIt looked like you had something to say,â you point out. âSo, what is it?â
Bucky presses his lips together, his eyes looking innocent, and shakes his head. âI have nothing to say.â
You huff, pouring the freshly ground petals into a vial. Capping the lid, you give it a gentle shake before holding it out to Bucky.
âHere,â you say. âTry it.â
Bucky raises a brow, hesitantly taking the glass from your hands. âI thought this was for Yelena?â
âBased on the very vague details youâve given me, it seems like you, Yelena, and John share similar capabilities. The tinctures Iâm brewing for the three of you wonât differ by muchâthis is just the base.â
He hesitates, swirling the mysterious liquid and eyeing it with suspicion. âSo, what, Iâm your test subject?â
You give him a bright and serene smile that makes him visibly uncomfortable. âWell, we have to test them all eventually, donât we? Donât let a single drop go to waste.â
Bucky studies the smile on your face. Ever since he arrived, heâs felt like youâve taken a personal delight in getting on his nerves. What started out as natural incompatibility has quickly turned into a deliberate effort to get him riled up. It is no wonder you work alone.
Knowing that arguing with you will accomplish nothing and only delay his sweet release from this cottage and your presence, he gives up. With a defeated sigh and a wary glance in your direction, he pops the cap and downs the vial in one gulp.
He sets the empty vial back down on the wooden table with a clinkâjust to emphasize that he did exactly as he was told.
âHow do you feel?â you ask with a curious tilt of your head.
Bucky shrugs casually. âI didnât have any injuries to begin with, so I feel fine.â
You nod with an approving hum. âGood.â Stepping back over to your station, you add, âLet me know if you experience any strange side effects. Iâm going to prepare the rest of the vials using that same base, and then weâll get down to the nitty-gritty.â
As you line up empty vials and neatly label each one with the team membersâ names, Bucky nods in satisfaction. Heâs pleased that things are moving much faster than he anticipated.
But as the minutes tick by, Bucky feels himself growing increasingly restless.
The air in the cottage suddenly feels thick, hot, and suffocating. It has nothing to do with the plants or the aromasâand yet he can smell every single note. He can pick up the faint, sweet scent of your sweat from across the room. Every grind of your pestle echoes in his ears, and he can hear every soft rustle of your clothes as you move.
He swallows hard, but his throat is bone-dry. He tries to focus on his own stationâon anything elseâbut his eyes keep drifting back to you.
When you pause to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his breath hitches. His heart stutters. When you absently lick your dry lips while double-checking a label, a heavy ache coils tight in his gut.
What the hell is happening?
He grips the edge of the counter, fighting the dizziness consuming him. His clothes feel suffocating, his entire body is burning up, and his nerves are spiraling out of control. Every sense is firing on all cylinders, hypersensitive to the tiny cottageâand above all, to you.
He tries to adjust his hands, but his palm accidentally sweeps into an empty glass jar. It flies off the counter and shatters against the floor.
âShit,â he curses, bending down to pick up the shards, only to prick his own fingers on a sharp edge.
When he swears again in pain, you turn sharply, gasping at the mess. âBucky! Are you okay?â
You hurry over, catching his forearm to help him stand back up. You are surprised by how heavily he slumps against you, leaning his weight into yours just to keep his balance. You take his wrist, pulling his hand closer to inspect the slice dripping blood onto the floor.
âLet me seeâyouâre bleeding, hold stillââ
With you standing so close, your fingers ghosting over his cut, he catches the faint scent of those blue petals on your skinâthe very petals you made him consume just minutes ago.
The scent, the proximity, the gentleness of your touchâeverything acts like gasoline poured onto the flame roaring in his gut. Every instinct in his mind screams at him to push you away, to bark at you to give him space, but his body rebels at the thought of losing your touch.
He breathes hard through his mouth, sweat beading at his temples as strands of dark hair fall over his face, partially shielding him from your sight.
âWhatâwhat the hell did you do to me?â he hisses, forcing himself to stare at the ground.
You blink at him, confused. âI didnât do anythingââ
You pause, a sudden thought striking you. âOh. Oh, no. You must be experiencing a side effect from the base tincture.â
You lean closer, your soft, warm hand reaching up to brush the dark, damp strands of hair out of his face. As you rest your palm against his forehead to check his temperature, a growl rumbles deep in his chest. He flinches at the contact, but he doesn't pull away.
When he finally looks up, meeting your gaze head on, the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver straight down your spine. His bright blue irises are swallowed by his dark, blown out pupils.
âYour fever is spiking,â you breathe. âThe properties in the blue petals... they must have reacted with the super soldier serum.â
âProperties?â Bucky rasps, sounding almost angry. âWhat properties?â
You swallow hard, worried about how heâll react. âIâm talking aphrodisiac properties.â
Buckyâs hand tightens around your wrist. His fingers are molten, his grip strengthening in a way that keeps you in place, showing you just how frustrated he is with all this.
It is no wonder he feels so warm, his body coiled up so tight. His pants strain against his pelvis, trying to fight away the sudden tightness drawing up in his groin.
There is no doubt about itâheâs aroused.
A feeling a man like him thought heâd never get to feel again, after everything. But one sip of your potion and one sniff of your scent, itâs enough to make his heart pound like an animal in heat.
âFix it,â Bucky commands roughly. âOr so help me God, because I wonât be able to restrain myself.â
Instead of making the tinctures for the rest of the team, you spend the entire day coming up with a remedy for Bucky. Youâve never had an experience quite like this, and you find yourself stumbling over your own feet trying to reach a resolution.
Bucky sits on a wooden stool in the corner of the cottage, his head rolled back against the wall as he watches your every step.
His blue eyes follow you as you frantically scramble from counter to shelf, from glass jars to leather bound herbology books. The serene composure he was met with from the beginning is nothing like the woman heâs seeing now. Youâre nervous, muttering under your breath and spilling dried leaves across the wooden table, fighting against your internal panic to heal him.
In another circumstance, seeing you flustered might have brought him a twisted sense of satisfaction, but right now, every passing second feels like torture.
The aphrodisiac courses violently through his bloodstream, amplifying every throb between his thighs, every drop of sweat slipping down his neck, and every scent that radiates off your smooth skin.
His jaw clenches so tight, his gums ache. Watching you stumble over your own feet, picking up the wrong vials and second-guessing your every move makes him unreasonably angry.
âYouâre taking too long,â Bucky growls from where he sits.
You freeze, glancing over your shoulder with a look of impatience. âIâm trying, Bucky! The super-soldier serum is accelerating the chemical process, so I have to adjust the proportions carefully, orââ
âGod,â he cuts you off with another groan, his fists tightening against his thighs. âYouâre stumbling all over yourself.â
You try your best to ignore the clear outline throbbing against his pants in your direction. He gets up abruptly, pushing the stool back until it clatters onto the floor. His boots stomp over to you, each step heavy with frustration, causing the bottles on the shelf to rattle. He stops right before you, his chest heaving.
âDo you even know what youâre doing? Or are you doing this on purpose?â
You blink at his sudden outburst. A scoff escapes you, offended by his accusation.
âExcuse me? Noâof course not. Why on earth would you think that?â
While Bucky towers over you, you feel the heat coming off his body and dance with your own warmth. He steps closer, closing what little space remains between you until your lower back hits the edge of the counter.
âYouâre punishing me,â he snaps, hot breath ghosting across your cheeks. âThis is payback for not cooperating with you earlier, isnât it?â
Your brows furrow with frustration. Here you are, delaying your work to find a remedy for the angry man before you, and he dares to question your intentions.
âI canât believe you would assume Iâd be setting you up,â you snap back.
You raise your palm, a placating gesture meant to create distance between you two, but you might as well be holding the shovel for your own grave. Your hand rests on his chest, giving him a slight push that only does more damage to his self-control.
âI am trying to save your lifeâor at least your dignity! If I mess up this ratio, the reaction could be permanent, or worse. So excuse me if I want to get it right!â
Bucky huffs a harsh and bitter laugh. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip before he bites down in annoyance. He steps back to you, but his snarky comeback dies in his throat once his throbbing length makes contact with your leg.
He chokes out a gasp, eyes flying wide as his forehead dips against yours. The mere contact of another human makes his cock beg desperately for some sort of releaseâit begs his hips to rock back and forth for any friction.
He watches, wide-eyed and a face burning with humiliation, as his cock rests heavy against your thigh. All he has to do is hike up your skirt, unbutton his pants, andâŠ
âBucky?â you whisper, leaning in closer.
That soft, gentle voice is broken with concern for himâyet all he wants is to hear it broken with moans in pain and bliss.
He pulls back sudden and fast, as if you hurt him.
You inhale deeply, swallowing your pride for him just this once. âIâm sorry. I shouldnât haveââ
âWhereâs your bathroom?â he interrupts. âIâm going to take care of this myself.â
You blink, momentarily stunned before pointing to the right, not wanting to elaborate any further. âJust down the hall. Make a left.â
Without another word, he pries himself away from you completely. He stomps down your hallway, his frame far too large for the narrow corridor, but he makes do by tilting his body to the side. The bathroom door shuts behind him roughly, making your glass vials shake on the counter.
As the minutes tick by, you try your best not to think about what he could be doing behind those closed doors.
Grunts of frustration and breathless curses echo from the bathroom and throughout your tiny cottage. You pound the pestle harder, trying to drown out his moans, but itâs futile. Your mind canât help but wander.
You picture him standing large and imposing in the center of your bathroom. Shirtless, probably. Broad shoulders hunching over as he dips his head, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face while his large hand circles around his length, stroking himself fast for any form of relief.
You remember the way he pressed himself up against you not that long agoâyou felt how big he was, and youâre certain he wouldnât be able to satisfy himself with just one hand.
âFuck.â âGodâfuckâŠâ âMmphââ
Moans and grunts continue to filter from your bathroom, and each sound and thought sends a wave of heat deep into your stomach to pool between your legs. You bite your lip hard, subconsciously pressing your thighs together, rubbing them against each other as a soft gasp slips past your lips.
Youâre shamelessly wet, your mind running wild with filthy thoughts of what the brooding man could be doing just a room over. Your fingers trace down your body until they find the sweet spot between your legs. Rubbing your clit through the thin fabric of your dress, you begin to stroke yourself, moaning in time with Buckyâs.
You feel your legs growing weak, gripping onto the table for support as you play with yourself, but then a loud grunt echoes down the hall, followed by a hard thump that shakes the entire wall.
It doesnât sound like pleasure.
It sounds like heâs in pain.
Eyes flying wide, you abandon everything at your stationâincluding your own pleasureâand run down the hall to tend to Bucky.
âBucky?â you call out with a frantic knock. âBucky? Are you okay?â
Silence, save for his labored panting.
Panic takes over your senses. âIâm coming in!â
You throw the door open to a room that is suffocatingly hot. You smell his sweat and masculine musk from where you stand by the doorframe. Bucky is hunched over the edge of the sink, half-undressed, his pants shoved down past his hips. His cock is thick, red, and throbbing angrily in his flesh hand, slick and agonizingly unsated.
You gulp. He looks exactly as you imagined just seconds ago, and the sight is doing no favors for your heart rate.
You expect him to startle at your entry. You wait for him to bark at you to get out, but the order never comes. Breathing heavily with one arm propped on the sink to hold himself upâtricep muscles and forearm veins popping with frustrationâhe slowly glances over his shoulder.
He looks like a wild, untamed beast. His hair hangs in dark strings around his face, his blue eyes lost to lust, and a thin strand of drool leaks from the corner of his mouth and down his jaw.
Bucky catches you staring at his humiliating state, but he doesnât point it out. You clear your throat awkwardly, already stepping back toward the doorway.
âIâm sorry. I thought you were hurtââ
âWhere are you going?â
You pause. âI should leave you alone. Let you finish, or go back to working on the remedy.â
Before you can escape, Bucky turns his body to face you, not even bothering to cover himself up. His chest heaves, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The sight of his heavy, veined length standing proud and untreated between his thighs makes your breath hitch in your throat.
âItâs not working,â he rasps, hungry eyes tracing your curves shamelessly. âIâve been going at it for ten minutes, and itâs doing nothing.â
Youâre terrified, but you canât bring yourself to run, and the dampness between your legs gives you away. âBucky, itâs your serum. I donât think your hand would be enough to fix it. A normal remedy will take timeââ
âI donât have time,â he growls, grabbing your wrist tightly. âLook at me! Iâm losing my fucking mind.â
You wince, the warmth of his skin burning yours.
âDid you just come in here to taunt me?â Bucky leans closer, baring his teeth as he snarls in your face, forcing you to look at him and nowhere else. âYou tell me my hand isnât enough. So what do you think I need, huh?â
He backs you up against the wall, pressing his legs between yours, forcing you to part for him. His cock rests heavy against your skirt. He reaches up to find your waistband, tugging it down in a rough motion that makes you gasp.
The fabric falls and pools uselessly around your ankles, baring your legs and panties under his hungry gaze. The sight makes him groan roughlyâtaking in the damp patch resting right over your center. Soaked, and ripe for the taking.
âLooks like you need more than just your hand, too,â he murmurs.
Releasing your wrist, his hand settles for your waist while the other guides the length of his cock against your soaked underwear. He rubs his leaking tip up and down, hissing at the sensation.
âBucky,â you pant so helplessly, it comes as a moan. âWe shouldnâtââ
âI need you to fix me,â he interrupts, gazing at you with desperate, pleading eyes. âI canâtâI canât continue on with this ache. Especially if Iâm going to be stuck here with you for two days, smelling you, looking at youâŠâ
His head falls into the crook of your neck pathetically, breathing you in. His eyes flutter shut in bliss as he rocks his hips forward against your core.
âFix me,â Bucky pleads. âJust let me slip it insideâjust for a little bit. Iâll finish quick. Fuck, please. It hurts so bad.â
Youâre holding your breath, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest that youâre certain he can hear it. You should push him away, but with the way heâs kissing your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin, you know heâs not going to give you a choice in this matter.
With vibranium resting on your hip, his right hand tickles the waistband of your panties before dipping beneath the fabric.
His warm fingers stroke your prodding clit gently, applying enough pressure to make you toss your head back with a gaspâgiving him an even better opportunity to leave love bites all over your neck. He groans against your skin as his fingers move even lower, slipping against your slick folds and stroking back and forth, teasing the entrance.
âChrist,â he mutters. âYouâre so wetâcould easily slide my fingers right in. Bet you could take something bigger, too.â He rasps a laugh, his stubble tickling your skin. âThereâs no way you couldâve gotten this wet just from hearing me.â
His cock twitches at the realization.
âYou were touching yourself, werenât you?â
Your face burns with a humiliation you donât want to admit.
âNo,â you try to deny it, but your breathless voice gives you away. âI was trying to make the remedyââ
Your voice cracks into a moan when two of his fingers slip past your entrance. Your walls tighten as he slowly eases himself in, just until his knuckles hit your opening.
âMy remedy is right here,â he grunts, savoring the way you tighten up around his fingers. âTight, wet, and already opening up just for me.â
Buckyâs nose tickles your neck again, closing the space with his lips. His tongue dances over your skin, warm lips sucking and tugging to leave his mark. While his fingers fuck your pussy, you canât help but moan into the sensation, encouraging him to continue.
His cock trembles against your leg, his hips subtly rocking into your thigh. Just the sight of it terrifies you. Hard, engorged, red, and begging to be taken care of. You almost feel sorry for him, considering how long heâs had to deal with this up until now.
Your body works pliantly against his fingers, your hips rocking in subtle movements to meet his digits. He groans, relishing the way you leak around his fingertips. His thumb pads over your clit, working the sensitive bundle of nerves. You mewl helplessly into the air, panting his name and clawing his back for support.
The heat of his skin burns you. Heâs so hot and sweaty, like heâs breaking a fever.
With your earlier ministrations, coupled with Bucky taking over your pleasure, your body tightens up as you get ridiculously close.
âBucky,â you pant. âDonât stop, please.â
He groans in frustration, forcing his hand to still. âIâm dying over here, and you want me to let you come?â
Bucky moves back just slightly, heaving and angrily glaring you down in a way that makes you feel like a cornered cat. You feel dirty and exposed right in your own home.
âYouâre a healer, arenât you?â His deep voice vibrates in his chest.
His hand finds your panties once more, tearing the soaked fabric easily and letting it slip down your hips to meet the discarded skirt on the floor.
âThen prove it to me. Show me that you can take care of a man in need.â
You tremble as the cool air embraces your skin after the sudden loss of his touch. His eyes rake over your body while he lazily strokes himself, trying to decipher where he wants to start. Blue orbs hone in on the space between your legs. He grunts, as if heâs made his decision, but his gaze slowly rises to your face, stopping at your mouth.
âOn your knees,â he urges.
Your breath catches in your throat. At your hesitation, he steps closer to you, giving you a sudden thrill.
âYou want me to say please?â he rasps in frustration, tugging at his cock. âGet on your knees, please.â The word comes out bitter.
Without breaking eye contact, you finally submit and sink to your knees. A low groan tears from his mouth at the sight of you kneeling before himâface feverish, lips parted in shock at his size, eyes burning with lust.
He steps closer, guiding his cock toward your plump lips.
âThank you,â he says, though the words sound almost painful. âThisâll make me feel better. I know it.â He taps the tip gently against your lips. âCome on. Open.â
You slowly open your mouth, strings of saliva already beading between your tongue and the roof of your mouth. Buckyâs breathing is heavy as he slowly guides his cock into the warm expanse.
His eyes roll and his head tosses back at the immediate pleasure he finds in your mouth.
âOh, fuck,â he drawls, using his right hand to thread through your hair. âGod, this feelsâfuck. I donât even know how to describe itââ
Slowly, he rocks his hips back and forth. His cock feels heavy against your tongue, your lips stretching obscenely around his length until your jaw aches.
âYes, just like that. Fuck. Thatâs a good girl,â he groans, his hips increasing their pace. âMy good little healer.â
Bucky stares down at you with heavy eyes, forcing himself to stick to a steady, medium pace so he doesnât overwork your jaw. The dark, curly hair at the base of his shaft tickles the tip of your nose as he works his cock deeper into your mouth.
You gag and choke, drool dripping obscenely down his length and over your chin while he uses your mouth like his personal toy.
âMmph,â you choke around him, and the vibration of your moan makes his cock twitch and his balls draw up tight.
âI donât know howââ his voice cracks into a groan, ââbut just fucking your mouth like this⊠is already gonna make me cum faster than when I tried to use my hand. Shitââ
Your hands rest on his strong thighs, your eyes watery as you peer up at the man who has his cock deep down your throat. His eyes flutter open, meeting yours, and he lets out a sound that comes off half growl and half choke.
âStay like that,â he grunts. âKeep those pretty eyes on me.â
The words leave his mouth breathlessly. His hips stutter against your lips, his cock twitching heavily against your tongue. His balls slap against your wet chin, drawing tight and pulsing with every stroke inside your warm mouth.
You do exactly as youâre told and keep your eyes locked on his. Tears streak down your face from the ache of your jaw being stretched open, but your pain is Buckyâs pleasure. His jaw hangs loose as his hips pick up speed, fucking your mouth deeper and making you gag.
âGod, those eyes,â he moans, his grip in your hair tightening. âFuckâgonna cum. Look at me while I cum inside this tight little mouth.â
His hand tightens in your hair, holding your head completely still while he thrusts shallowly. A deep groan fills the air, his quad muscles tensing beneath your palms as his balls draw up tight.
His tip pulses against the back of your tongue until, finally, a thick release spills from the slit, coating the back of your throat with hot seed. He holds you still while you choke and gag around the sudden rush filling your mouth. He holds you there until you canât take it anymore, and only then does he finally release your head.
You sputter and hack, his spunk coating your throat. Some of it dribbles down your lips as you heave to catch your breath.
He stands right before you, completely bare, taking in shallow, heavy breaths. But his cock still shadows over your faceâstill painfully hard and throbbing, even after his climax subsides.
âShit,â he breathes, his right hand wrapping heavy around his length, stroking it furiously. âIt wonât go downâwhy wonât it go down?â
âBucky, waitââ you manage to choke out, wiping the back of your hand across your lips. âListen to meââ
He staggers back, staring down at his fully erect and still throbbing length in absolute disbelief. His chest is slick with sweat, his eyes wild with confusion and a mounting frustration that tests his patience. His hand strokes the underside of his tip, trying to feel for any decrease in sensitivity, but it remains rock solid, flushed deep red and leaking. Again.
âI just came!â he growls in anger. âI just filled your fucking mouth, and it still feels like itâs going to burst. What the fuck did you put in that drink? What did you do to me?!â
A frustrated sound escapes you. âIf you would just let me go back to my station, I could finish your remedy. Iâll make something strong enough to burn through your metabolism, and you can wait it outââ
âI canât wait it out anymore. Iâve tried,â his wild eyes snap to you. âIf your mouth didnât workâthen Iâll have to use something else.â
Before the last word even clears his teeth, his patience boils over completely. Bucky reaches down, his large hands gripping your arms. He lifts you effortlessly off your knees, hauling you up like you weigh nothing.
âBuckyâ!â
You gasp as he spins you around, slamming your hips roughly against the edge of the sink counter hard enough to make the bottles on the shelves shake.
Coming eye to eye with your reflection in the mirror, your face heats up at how utterly debauched you look. Your cheeks are streaked with tears, your lips puffy and swollen, and a sheen of saliva and leftover cum reflects off your chin.
âH-how do you know if this will even work?â you stammer.
Buckyâs vibranium hand settles on your hip while the other finds the small of your back, forcing you to bend until your ass tilts up to him. He grabs your knee and hitches your leg up and over the counter, spreading your thighs wide.
âItâll work,â he grunts deeply, aligning the head of his cock against your drenched entrance. âIâll make sure it works.â
His relentless arousal is screaming at him to take what he wants. He doesnât bother teasing or easing in; he knows youâre soaked enough to take it. He drives his hips forward, burying half of his lengthâforced to pause briefly from your tightnessâbefore pushing the rest of his length deep inside from behind.
A high, breathless scream tears from your throat, your fingers desperately clawing at the wood for purchase. Your walls arenât used to this size, forced to stretch wildly around his girth.
âFuck!â Bucky roars out, his head falling forward between your shoulder blades.
The scorching heat of your body suffocating his angry, unsated length makes him shudder violently.
âFuck, yesâright there. Youâre gonna help me burn it off.â
The counter shakes in time with his thrusts.
With your leg propped up on the sink, it allows Bucky to drive deeper and deeper, his balls slapping against your wet folds with every move. You watch him pound into you relentlessly from behind through the reflection of the mirror.
Buckyâs face is twisted in a mix of both pleasure and frustration. He looks almost animalisticâsweaty, hot, and desperate for release.
A litany of moans and curses drifts from his mouth to fill the air while the mirror fogs up with your collective body heat. Buckyâs eyes watch your body from behind, and the sight makes him drive into you even harder. You look like a mess beneath him, your tits bouncing with every thrust.
He watches where his cock disappears in and out of your pussy, admiring the creamy white ring that sits at the base of his shaft and dampens the dark curls on his pelvis. Every sense is heightened to the maxâevery whimper that leaves your lips doesnât go unnoticed, and your sweet scent fills his nostrils, swimming in his head like a drug.
Bucky reaches around your front with his flesh hand, wrapping his fingers around your neck to crane it and force you to look at yourself in the mirror.
âLook at what youâre doing to me,â he growls, meeting your eyes in the reflection. âLook at how good you take it.â
You whimper, your head tilting back against his broad chest. Through the fog on the glass, Bucky doesnât look like himself at all. The aphrodisiac has turned him into a monster who wonât let you go until he gets what he wants.
âBuckyââ
âThatâs it,â he grunts into your shoulder, his teeth nipping at the warm skin before licking over the bite mark. âMoan for me. Let me hear how wet you are for this. Godâyouâre squeezing me so tight I can barely breathe.â
He hitches your leg up even higher over the edge of the sink, opening you up completely. The new angle lets him hit that deep, aching sweet spot inside you with every single stroke.
âFuck, look at you,â he groans, watching the reflection as his thick length disappears into your cream coated entrance, over and over. âYouâre taking every inch of it. Right where you belong. Youâre gonna milk every drop out of me until this fever breaks.â
His eyes roll back as his grip on your hip tightens. Every inch of him ravages your body like it belongs to him, every move delivering a kiss to your cervix and leaving a trail of pre-cum in its wake.
Youâre stuffed completely full, and as his right hand circles around your hip to pad at your clit, itâs only a matter of time before you cum all over him.
âOh my god! Right there, donât stop!â you instinctively roll your hips against his palm, the movement sending lightning bolts of pleasure straight to Buckyâs gut.
Bucky groans, feeling your core clench up tight around his cock. Youâre already impossibly tight, and he can only imagine how tight your body will squeeze him when you finally come.
His cock works shallowly inside you while his fingers rub over your clit. The mixture of his length stretching you open and his fingers grinding against your swollen nerves is enough to make you see stars.
Finally, a broken scream tears from your throat, your fingers scrambling against the counter for purchase as you come undone all over Buckyâs cock.
Your body spasms violently, clenching and milking him for everything heâs worth, and Bucky canât hold back any longer.
âOh, fucking hell,â he gasps. His entire body locks up as his cool metal digits dig into your hip, forcing you to take every drop of his second release.
A scalding rush of his seed erupts deep inside you, coating your cervix and spilling past his thick shaft. Itâs heavier and thicker than the first timeâso much that your body canât hold it all, and it shamelessly drips down your entrance to pool on the floor.
He holds himself buried deep, gritting his teeth and groaning through the endless, pulsing wave of his climax. His cock throbs in time with your pulsing core while you both try to catch your breath.
Pants and heavy breathing fill the hot, humid bathroom. Buckyâs cock stays warm inside you, but because of how swollen and thoroughly used you feel, you canât even tell if this remedy helped him or not.
âBucky?â you ask breathlessly, glancing at him in the mirror as you catch your breath.
Bucky keeps his forehead rested against the back of your head, his hot breaths tickling the nape of your sweaty neck as he steadies himself.
âIâm sorry,â he apologizes in a broken voice that catches you off guard. His big arms wrap around your bare waist, pulling you in closer.
Thatâs when you feel his cock throb inside you again.
âThat felt so goodâbut dammit, Iâm still hard.â
A week has passed since the Thunderbolts picked up the elixirs from your cottage. Between all the fighting, jobs, and unnecessary damage theyâve taken as a team, they went through every single one. Not a single drop remains.
John opens one cabinet, then the next, and the next, his brows furrowing with growing confusion when he realizes all the shelves are empty.
âHey, did someone misplace that extra batch of potions we were supposed to hold onto?â he shouts to the rest of the team over his shoulder.
âYou mean elixirs,â Bucky says, stepping out of the elevator with a grumpy look on his face, already mentally checked out for the day.
âWhatever,â John waves his hand dismissively. âWhere are they?â
âWe went through them all,â Ava answers from where she sits on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table.
Bob frowns at Ava. âI thought we agreed this would be a no-shoes indoor household.â
Ava ignores Bob, not even bothering to take her boots off. âAsk Walker. Heâs the one who used three of them on a minor scrape because he panicked.â
âIt was a deep laceration!â John snaps, slamming a cabinet door shut. âAnd it was infected! Regardless, we need more. Weâre going on that operation next week, and Iâm not going in without backup med supplies. Whoâs making the run back to the cottage?â
Bucky remains still at the kitchen island. He slowly raises a glass of ice water to his lips to take a long gulp, hoping the cold liquid might flush out the sudden heat rising up his neck.
The second John utters the word cottage, Buckyâs mind floods with memories he had been trying desperately to suppress for the past seven days.
The scent of sweet herbs mixing with sweat. The sound of your breathless whimpers moaning his name as he pinned you to the sink counter, helpless against a fever that had nearly driven him out of his mind. Even now, just thinking about the way your body had squeezed himâover and over, completely ruined beneath himâmade his jaw clench hard enough to crack a tooth.
âOkay,â Yelena huffs, looking around. âI donât know where Alexei is, so heâs out of the picture. Who volunteers?â She asks, already opting herself out.
The room stays quiet. Bucky keeps his eyes glued to the glass in his hand, watching the ice cubes float.
âIâd go,â Bob offers gently, raising a hand. âBuuut I have that severe pollen allergy.â
âWell, Valentina is trying to arrange an interview with the press with me eventually, so..â John explains in a way that makes him sound more important than he actually is. âGotta stay on call for that.â
Ava and Yelena glance at each other with a snort.
John turns around, leaning back against the empty pantry counter, and his eyes land on the other super soldier who hasnât said a word.
John squints at him. âYouâve been suspiciously quiet.â
Bucky doesnât break his stare with the water glass. âIâm drinking.â
Yelena raises a brow. âYou know what? Yeah. Bucky, you should go. You two are already well acquainted, no?â
âAnd letâs be honest, you look like you need to get out of the tower. Youâve been moody all week.â Ava chimes in, finally releasing her feet off the coffee table, shifting on the couch to look over at him. Bob sighs in relief.
Buckyâs jaw clenches.
Going back means coming face-to-face with you for the first time after⊠everything.
His cheeks heat up at the sheer humiliation thatâll come with it, but his heart thumps with something he didnât expect: anticipation. Ever since those two days he spent with you, you were the only thing playing in the back of his mind. And truthfullyâa secret he would take to his graveâheâd been using more doses of the tinctures than normal just to have an excuse to see you, assuming he could build up the courage to actually do it.
You, and everything that transpired in your cottage, had been playing in his head like a movie on a loop. At night, he rolls around restless in his bed, thinking only of you. Even taking... sexual matters into his own hands isnât enough anymore.
The room is awfully quiet as everyone stares at him. They expect him to fight back like he did the first time, maybe throw out a snarky remark.
Bucky lifts the glass to his lips with a indifferent shrug, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.
âIâll go.â
this was kind of fun to write at first, but then i abandoned the draft for like two weeks and got back to it and was like "wtf did i write"
if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!
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