i don't usually take requests, but this was pretty hot 🤭
18+ mdni, smut
the super-soldier serum had its perks when it came to sex. bucky never tired; he could hold you up and easily maneuver your body for his pleasure. but the last thing he ever expected to come with the serum—along with becoming a nuisance—was hyperspermia.
when he climaxed, it was a lot.
it was overwhelming, and frankly, very annoying to clean up.
bucky tried using condoms to avoid practically drowning you in his cum, but most of the time, they'd slip right off because of how quickly he'd pump the rubber full. so, he just gave up and decided he would try to pull out right before he came.
and each time he did, his rough hand would blur over his shaft as he pumped himself to climax, spilling his warm, thick seed all over your belly, shooting high enough to nearly hit your collarbone and chin—making you flinch.
"jesus," he'd rasp, catching his breath. "goddamnit. i did it again. god, look at you. you're covered in cum—i'm so sorry, baby. let me grab a towel and clean you up—"
"bucky," you'd chuckle, trying to sit up, but it only made his release dribble down your navel and onto the sides of your stomach. "it's fine—"
before you could finish, he'd quickly scramble off the bed, face red with embarrassment, to grab a clean towel.
this was the same routine every time you two had sex. and for once, you wanted him to come inside. you wanted to feel all of him, especially since you knew just how much bucky wanted to fill you up too; he was just holding himself back.
the next day, bucky had you pinned to the mattress, the poor bedframe creaking and groaning as he fucked you deep against the soft cushions.
"god, you feel so fucking good, baby," bucky moaned. "fuck."
he was close, you could feel it. he was pulsing, throbbing, and his movements were sloppy and uneven.
he drew his hips back just slightly, and you knew he was going to try and pull out.
but before he could, your legs—trembling and shaking—quickly wrapped around his hips, nudging him back against your pelvis as he slammed into you with one hard thrust.
"oh my god—!" he gasped, his body collapsing and enveloping yours as he lost his balance. "jesus—baby. what are you doing? you know i can't cum inside—it's too much. you won't be able to take it—"
"i can take it," you rasped. "i can take it, bucky! please, let me try taking it all. i want to try."
"shit," he grunted. "this—this is bad, baby. this is dangerous. i'd fill you up so deep, it'll be spilling out of you. i'll make a mess, sweetheart. i can't—fuck, i can't—"
but despite his words, his hips kept grinding sloppily and lazily against yours. it was growing impossible to pull out by the second. how could he? when your breathy moans were filling his ears deliciously, and your soft legs were wrapped tight around his waist, refusing to let him go?
so with one, final hard and deep thrust that made your head spin, he let himself spill inside you.
thick, hot ropes of cum shot deep inside, filling you completely to the brim as his body shook and trembled atop you. it was a lot, and it kept going and going, but even then, your legs refused to drop from around his waist. you told him you were going to take it, and you did.
you felt every pulse, every ridge, and every throb his cock had to give you as he filled you completely until your body couldn't hold it all and it started dripping out of you and onto the mattress.
bucky's face immediately burned hot with embarrassment. he didn't even want to see the damage he'd done to you—he felt it.
"jesus christ," he mumbled into your neck, his body shaking from the aftermath of his intense orgasm that couldn't seem to subside—no matter how much he came.
"i'm sorry. i tried to pull out, but your legs—fuck. they're just so soft, and you felt too good. but you said you could take it, right?"
warnings: fluff, sexual themes, allusions to past sexual assault, sleepy stuff, nuzzling into his crotch bc its nice, bucky kinda wants to fuck but the moment is too sweet, very light teasing (from bucky), sappy ending (cus it's me) . . .
word count: 857
a/n: me when i have real fics to work on but i ran out of meds so to Drabble Prison i go again (september 2025 stevie welcome back) shit from butt, we move, we listen and we don't judge .lmfao.
happy bucky day though !!! <3 <3
masterlist || navigation
You’ve been tracing the line of his hip for a while. Fingers light as a feather, lips carving and swiping over the sensitive dips of skin, over his stomach, lazy yet reverent. Bucky lays with his head against the pillows, content to let you touch, one arm slung beneath his head, the other rest over his chest, twitching with the urge to caress your hair, to guide you lower.
But, he doesn't push. He never pushes.
However, you shift your weight. Sliding down, laying your chest against the mattress where his thighs opened, until your face is pressed into the junction of his hip and groin. Bucky’s breath hitches, sharp and sudden, an inhale that makes his ribs rattle and stomach coil, tightening hard with anticipation.
He expects you to keep going, to reach for the waistband of his boxers — that were already pushed sinfully low for your kisses — but you don’t. Instead, you settle in deeper, nose brushing against the soft, dark hair at the very base of his stomach, seeking out the heat that radiates from him, breathing out a long, shuddering sigh of pure contentment. You turn your head, pressing your cheek firmly into the fuzz, settling in deeper like like a comfort you've only just found after a millennia of searching.
Bucky’s brow furrows. His heart thumps a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It’s a sensory overload of the strangest kind.
The softness. The delicate need you show — no use for words.
Decades of his body handled and used to smite or a thing to be studied. Even since coming back, home felt like a story, a memory locked behind frosted glass, and he’d been so used to being touched with either caution, searing intent, or harshness.
Sweetness was never required, nor was it needed for a weapon like him.
But that was miles away.
This is devotion. Dripping from you like pure honey, hot and sugary from your mouth and fingertips and skin. And it's all deserved.
"Sweetheart?" he rasps, cracking with a sleep-heavy, yet fervent, gravel.
A hum replies, low and resonant, a sound that vibrates through his skin and settles deep in under his skin. Nuzzling your face further into him, your lips brush the warm fabric over his pelvis, right where his need perks up, as you find a comfortable pocket of warmth.
To you, he's all home. Built from small pieces of the both of you, and experiences that brought you two together. It’s the scent of him; his musk that sticks to his skin, that blooms stronger as you rest, and the faint, lingering hint of his bodywash. It's all thick in a way that feels like safety.
His flesh hand comes down, fingers trembling, debating, just a fraction, before they dive into the hair at the nape of your neck. He expects to feel a surge of arousal — heavier than the soft eagerness his body previsioned — but instead, what washes over him is a stinging, heavy heat behind his eyes.
"You're weird," he grumbles, though there's no bite in it. His metal hand rests gently next to his fingers, stroking tenderly, allowing the sounds of vibranium in your locks, the feel of your warm cheek against his groin and breath on his skin to anchor him in the moment.
He feels your breath hitch, warm and damp. Inhaling him, memorizing the scent with a tiny huff of amusement.
"Hmph… I like it here," you mumble, voice muffled against him, "You're so warm, Buck. You smell like everything good."
Bucky closes his eyes again, your voice tickling down his thighs, but this isn't about that — not right now, anyway. A small, genuine smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He stops overthinking the mechanics of it all; why you'd do this, why you're with him, sharing a life, a house, a bed, why you'd choose him. He stops wondering if he should move or if he should be doing something for you.
He simply lets himself rest and be a pillow. He then lets his right hand join, slowly massaging your scalp, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear in slow, hypnotic circles.
"Yeah?" it comes out more breathlessly and less like a question, his voice softening into something tender and raw. He shifts his hips just an inch, giving you more space to rest, more of his heat. "Stay as long as you want, weirdo."
"Hm," you hum, "You're the one letting me."
"S'cause I love you," he sighs, words whispering out like a breeze, "I'd let you do anything to me."
"Bucky—"
You go to move, but his palms stay firmly on your scalp — not painfully, just a force to halt you, and you make no protest.
"Shh, just… just stay. Please." His voice wavers ever so slightly, a dip at the end that scrapes your heart like a hairline fracture.
Staying is better than moving up to face him. Allowing him to be vulnerable and feel your presence where he's only really known hurt is better than feeling useless while coming down from a nightmare.
Summary: it's quite literally just porn, there's no plot, it's literally the title
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, p in v sex, fingering, bucky's a bit obsessed i guess lol
A/N: two updates within a week of each other??? who is she
Masterpost || Bucky Masterlist
Cuddling with you was one of the top five on Bucky's favorite things to do list.
Snuggled under the blankets in the dark, with his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly to him with your ass pressed into his crotch. He would wait for you to be settled and cozy before placing wet, lazy kisses along the line of your shoulder and covering the back of your neck, his hands smoothing over your skin mindlessly.
One of his hands would splay across your chest, gripping, massaging, and pulling at your breasts while his other would spread over your stomach, pushing lower and squeezing your curves as his fingers wandered. He loved how soft you were, how malleable you were in his hands, your body molding perfectly to his. Your little hums and sighs of contentment were like music to his ears, his fingers playing the strings of your body, pulling the noises from you.
Bucky hummed against the skin of your neck as his fingers travelled lower, tracing over your panties, only cupping your cunt when your own hands reached back, and your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging at his scalp. He would slip his fingers under the fabric, reaching down to find you already soaked for him, and a deep growl would rumble through his throat as he'd bury two fingers inside your warmth, your cunt sucking him in.
Your hums and sighs would turn to light, breathy moans and gasps that only fueled the fire under his skin as one of your hands would slip behind you, scratching his waist and pulling him impossibly closer. His fingers never lasted long in your heat before he'd slip them out, grinning at your low whine before pulling himself free of his boxers, spreading your slick over him.
He'd tug your underwear to the side, sliding his cock in, slow to stretch you open for him. Your leg would raise to make room for him, and he'd pull it open, resting it over his own as he watched you take him, the only light dusting your lashes coming from the city out the window. Your slack jaw and dazed gaze already looking up at him.
Sex like this was never rushed between you. It was slow, lazy even, just the two of you being so caught up in the other that you needed to touch, and be touched. Neither of you usually spoke, not like other times when he praised you or told you how good you felt or tasted. None of that was needed for this.
You'd keep your head turned towards his, kissing him when you could, gasping for breath when you needed, moaning into his mouth as you tugged again at his hair.
Your orgasm would creep up slowly as he kept a slow rhythm, just savoring how warm you were, how you gripped his cock perfectly. But when your breath would hitch and your brows would pinch together, he'd drive himself just a little deeper and just a little harder to get you to break.
And the sounds you made when you came, the way your cunt gripped and pulsed around him, would pull his own orgasm front and center. He'd rut into you a few more times, gripping your thigh in his hand to keep you open for him as he buried himself to the hilt before stilling, his body shaking slightly with its drawn-out release.
Yes, cuddling you was number two on Bucky's favorite things list.
But, cuddle-fucking? That was number one.
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Bucky lays flat against his headboard, his voice low and commanding. “Ride my face, baby.” Without hesitation, you lower yourself down, your knees folding up beside his ears. The instant your dripping wet cunt touches his mouth, he releases a deep, animalistic groan. “Fuck babygirl..”
His cold metal hand grips your hip firmly, the other hand clutching your ass, his fingers digging in deep enough to leave bruises that will surely show tomorrow. He yanks you down with such force it almost suffocates him, yet he can’t get enough of you, His tongue glides through your wet folds, desperately exploring every inch.
As you begin to roll your hips, his nose pressed firmly against your clit sends waves of heightend sensation through you. Glancing down, you see your slickness glistening on his nose and stubble. He gently nips and sucks on your clit, drawing a deep, breathy moan from you. A mix of pleasure and pain.
Your nipples tighten as you feel bucky’s hips twitch upward, stroking himself rhythmically while his mouth continues its fervent worship. A thin trail of precum glistens at the tip of his cock, trickling slowly down his hand.
You try to ease your hips away, hoping to give him a breath, but the instant you shift even the slightest bit, his grip tightens possessivley around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking lift this pretty pussy,” Bucky growls, his voice thick and muffled. You feel the heat of his breath, as your slickness drips from his lips.
Grabbing a tighter hold of his hair and began to roll your hips faster, no longer hesitating to let him breathe. “Bucky…” you practically screamed as he buries himself deeper into your cunt, the sounds of his nose nuzzling against your slit blending with the sloppy rhythm of sucking and licking.
He chokes back a moan, overwhelmed, as he comes while he fucks his hand and devouring you. Thick ropes of cum splatter across his stomach and chest. The vibration of his groans sends you spiraling over the edge.
Your cries fill the room, heavy with the scent of your shared arousal and sex. A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest, breath still uneven as his hands tighten at your waist. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, voice rough and a wicked glint in his eyes.
Summary: Bucky has been needy for days, and seeing you stepped out of the shower—fresh and glowing—makes him beg for more
Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), suggestive content, begging kink, clothed arousal (m), dom/sub dynamics (f dom lean), post-shower teasing, heavy sexual tension, desperate emotional tone, implied smut
Word Count: 643
Author's Note: It's been way too long since my last post, and i’m currently dying with a high fever + feeling all kinds of weak and anemic from heavy period loss but the Bucky thoughts were filling my head continuously and I legit can’t even word them properly at the moment 😵💫 please forgive any mistakes, I'm heavily medicated and floating through dimensions ✨
You barely made it three steps out of the bathroom before he was on you.
Still towel-drying your hair, fresh from the warm shower, you caught him standing there just past the doorway—like he’d been waiting.
Bare chest rising with shallow breaths. Stubble unshaven. Eyes completely blown.
And that tent in his briefs? So shamelessly hard it nearly made you laugh.
“Jesus,” you muttered under your breath, grinning as you ran the towel from your hair down to your damp neck. “You okay, James?”
He didn’t answer. Just stared—like a man starving.
Then he stepped forward. Slow. Measured. Like he didn’t trust himself to move too fast.
You tilted your head, playful. “You’ve been like this all morning…”
His voice cracked before it even came out. “I can’t help it, baby.”
His hands slid to your waist. Warm and cold at the same time, firm, trembling a little. He leaned in, buried his face into the crook of your neck, and inhaled deep—like he was trying to breathe you in.
“Fuck,” he murmured, voice muffled against your skin. “You smell so good. You always do.”
You let the towel fall from your hand, forgotten. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
“Please,” he said, lips brushing damp skin as his grip on you tightened. “Please let me have you.”
You bit your lip, heart thudding, leaning just slightly into him. Just enough to tempt. Not enough to give in.
“You’re really begging?” you teased softly.
His vibranium fingers flexed on your hips. His cock twitched where it pressed against your belly—straining and hot behind thin briefs.
“I’ve been begging for days,” he groaned. “You know that.”
You lifted a hand, cradled his jaw, gently guiding his face to yours. His pupils were blown wide. Cheeks flushed. His expression wrecked with need.
“I love when you’re like this,” you whispered, dragging your thumb over his stubble-rough cheek. “So needy for me.”
His grip on you grew tighter. “I am needy for you. Fuck, you don’t even know—”
He swallowed, voice lowering again, nearly trembling.
“I wake up hard every goddamn morning just thinking about you,” he rasped. “You walk around this house in those little shorts, teasing me without even trying. And now you—”
His eyes dragged down your body, to where the towel hung loosely across your chest—barely clinging, already slipping—droplets sliding slowly down your collarbone.
“—you come out of the shower looking like this?”
You didn’t move. Didn’t blink. You just watched him unravel.
“I wanna be inside you so bad,” he said, desperate and quiet, his hands traveling slowly from your waist to your hips. “I miss the way you moan. The way your pussy clenches around me. The way you say my name when I’m deep inside, like I’m the only thing you need.”
Your breath caught.
God, he was coming undone.
“I’ll be good,” he promised, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you. Just—please, baby. I need to fuck you. I need it.”
Your fingers slid through his hair, pulling him close enough to feel your breath ghost across his lips. “Need to?” you murmured.
“Yes,” he breathed, mouth grazing yours. His hands trembled on your waist. “I need it. I need you.”
You moved one hand behind your back and tugged at the towel. It slipped down your sides and pooled at your feet.
Bucky’s jaw clenched as his gaze dropped. He sucked in a harsh breath, eyes devouring the sight of your bare skin. He let out the softest, broken sound—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
And then—finally—you slid your arms around his neck.
“Take me to bed, Bucky.”
He didn’t speak. Didn’t waste a second.
He just lifted you in one smooth, urgent motion—holding you against him like you were everything. Like he’d fall apart if he didn’t.
bucky barnes who babbles russian when he’s about to cum, and he barely recognizes that he’s doing it. that’s it. that’s the headcannon💘.
“oh, fuck, doll, she’s squeezin’ the life outta’ me.” he grunts, his brooklyn accent thick as his words slur. you’re a mess. he’s made you cum 4, maybe 5 times tonight. maybe more. you really have no clue.
you can do nothing by moan and take it. you’re an overstimulated mess below him and he knows it. he hasn’t came at all tonight. but he’s about to. he groans as he feels the coil in his stomach tighten. and that’s when it happens.
“moy angel, ona tak khorosho ko mne otnositsya.” (my angel, she’s taking me so well). he grunts. you have little to no clue what he saying. but he’s so sexy when he says it, you clench around him and he groans as he ruts deeper into you.
”vyzhimayesh' iz menya vsyu zhizn', kukolka. oshchushcheniye potryasayushcheye.” (squeezing the life out of me, doll. feels amazing.) he rumbles. he’s not even doing this to get you off. he barely even recognizes the fact that he’s tumbling out russian. you clench again as your head lolls back and he knows he won’t make it much longer.
“posmotri na nas. posmotri, kak ty dobr ko mne, poka ya konchayu.” (look at us. look at how good you are for me while i cum). he grunts. he doesn’t understand why you don’t look. that you don’t know what he’s saying. he simply figures it’s because your so overstimulated, not because he’s speaking a different language.
he grabs the back of your head with enough force that your eyes jolt to where his cock had been ramming you deep into your shared bed. you moan at the sight. bucky groans, hand in your hair as he cums inside of you. you watch, transfixed as his seed glides along your folds.
you pant as your head falls back and be lays down on top of you, suffocating you with his weight that you welcome.
“perfect, gorgeous. that’s all you are for me.” he breathlessly smiled. you figured you’d tell him about his little habit later. how he can only babble russian when he’s balls deep inside of you and about to cum.
————————————————————
thank you for reading, lovelies. reqs open and appreciated💘. this is not proofread, i literally typed it up within 10 minutes so excuse my poor grammar.
ANY VARIATION OF READER X THUNDERBOLTS BUCKY AND THE TEAM BEING TF U HAVE A GF THANK YOU AND ILY
girlfriend? | bucky barnes
| thunderbolts!bucky barnes x fem!reader
warnings: john walker and minor thunderbolts spoilers!!!!!
a/n: YAY!!! IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE FOR BUCKY AND MARVEL AGAIN!!! i also decided that this would probably take place after the events of the movie, and i took inspiration from clint hiding his family but, with reader! so, i hope i did your vision justice!!
the smoke was dense and thick, making it almost impossible to see within five feet. the smell of sulfur and concrete filled the nostrils of the ‘new avengers’.
new york has seen yet another attack, this time by another outer space alien thingy that bucky couldn’t remember.
there’s a dreadful silence between the group, all stuck in their own minds, trying to figure out just what went wrong. how they got defeated so quickly.
he stood with his hands on his hips, trying to regain his breath after being slammed into a plethora of floors from one of the skyscrapers.
ava hunched over holding her midsection while also trying to catch her breath. yelena, leaning against a fallen slab of a building while clenching her arm. walker, somewhere else, blowing off steam as his shield was snapped in half, and alexei going on some sort of rant.
“it’s fine, this is fine” the broody older man speaks, his thick accent grating against buckys ears. “everybody get up!” the red guardian claps, trying to pump up the group. “we are the thunderbolts!!!”
yelena rolls her eyes, keeping a hand pressed on her arm, “dad, stop”. she looks at the man with sharp eyes. they say optimism is good to have on a team, but alexei had too much. it often got annoying.
turning a corner, walker, stuffing something in his suit pocket, looks to the others. “we’ve been compromised.”
ava stands, crossing her arms. “what?” she looks between bucky and yelena, who have the same look on their face. it isn’t dread, it isn’t worry, it’s something much worse.
alexei mutters some swear words in russian under his breath. and for a moment, no one knows what to do. they aren’t a team, they have no backup, and bucky knows that sam won’t help him.
yet again, he’s alone.
“well, what now?” ava asks, her attention trained on the white widow. “ah!” alexei holds up his fingers, then snaps, carrying a proud look on his face. “a safe house!”
everyone pauses, stealing glances at each other with a blank expression. clearly growing tired of the red guardians persona. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me..” ava exasperates, before taking a few steps away from the group.
bucky contemplates for a moment, hes staring off at the gray rubble beneath his black boots. he only had a handful of options, one of those being sam. as he was not on the best terms with sam, he figured his last option would suffice. you.
“i know a place.”
the sun was just rising, its misty rays barely peeking through the thick fog. the air was cool and damp, the ground beneath covered with an early morning dew. a cabin tucked away amidst the trees stood silent and still, as if waiting to welcome the day.
the trees surrounding the cabin were barely visible through the dense fog, their leaves shimmering with dewdrops like tiny jewels on their green surfaces. the air was silent, save for the soft sound of the nearby river.
stepping off the quinjet, bucky stopped at the edge of the ramp, looking at his home he shared with you. he felt happy to be back home, but a part of him dreaded the following events.
bucky knew he was risking everything by bringing the others to his home, to you. someone who bucky made sure to keep hidden from everyone. he didn’t do it because he was ashamed or didn’t love you, but he did it because he loved you so much. it was better to keep you off file and off record, for your safety.
if anything happened to you, bucky would’ve surely lost his mind.
“why the hell are we at a cabin, bucky?” walker quips, following the other super soldier. “we can’t go on vacation now.”
“shut up, walker,” bucky snaps, shooting a glaring look over his shoulder as he waits for the rest of the others to fall in behind him. “what are we doing here? we clearly need a safe house,” yelena chimes in, ava and alexei adding something under their breaths.
bucky can already feel himself getting agitated with the anti-heroes. it’s hard enough working with people that collectively cannot get along, it was doomed from the veining. “it’s safe, just trust me.”
crossing the threshold of the dark oak cabin, the scent of fresh laundry mixed with mahogany, vanilla, and cashmere filled his nostrils, and in an instant, the tension in his shoulders dropped.
home. the living room was cleaned, and a few blankets on the leather sofa. you must've napped. a few records scattered around the record table, one still on the turntable, but the record had stopped playing long ago.
“baby? i’m home!” he calls out, not seeing any sign of your presence as he steps into the living room. it’s quiet, almost too quiet. bucky steps further in. “baby doll?”
the team steps in hesitantly, their hands hovering over whatever they have to defend themselves with. sharing puzzled glances with each other as bucky calls out to you.
you emerge from the stairway with a laundry basket on your hip. a quiet gasp gets caught in your throat as your eyes look past your boyfriend and see his co-workers. “what the..” you mutter, your eyes finally landing on bucky. “bucky?”
“we had nowhere else to go,” he explains, the wear and tear of fighting visible on his body. his eyes hold even more exhaustion than he let on.
you drop the laundry basket on the sofa and approach him, he hopes his arms and pulls you in, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.
yelena interrupts, “Im sorry..” the blonde holds out her hands, nose crunching with confusion. “what the hell is happening here?”
“yeah..what the hell is this?” walker stands behind yelena, his arms crossed now.
“guys, meet my girlfriend, y/n,” he introduced, holding you by his side. his thumb rubbing up and down your shoulders.
“hi..” you smile, holding up your hand to wave awkwardly. your freehand wrapping around buckys midsection.
the team is left speechless, all mouths are open, but no words are formed.
“girlfriend?!” yelena is flabbergasted, her eyes almost popping out of her head.
“oh! this is wonderful!! alexei is pushing past the other three, walking towards you with a big, dopey smile. “young love!” he cheered, clapping loudly.
you laugh awkwardly, again, because what do you do when the avengers are standing in your house?
“buck?” you look up at him, he had a less than amused look on his face.
“we just need some place to lay low, get patched up. i didn’t know what else to do.”
“ah, okay,” you pat his chest playfully, an amused laugh coming from you. “i can help with that.”
“girlfriend…” walker whispers as you begin leading the group downstairs to a makeshift med bay.
“shut it, walker!” buckys voice booms from a few feet ahead.
Summary: Bucky cuddles you with the weight of all his love and affection for you
Warnings: beefy bucky, cuddly bucky, fluff
WC: 515
ao3 // tag list
The apartment is quiet in the way that only exists late at night—no traffic, no phones buzzing, just the faint hum of the heater from the corner of hte room and the glow of the TV you’re not really watching.
Bucky is stretched out on the couch, long legs taking up far more space than should be possible, boots kicked off, sweatshirt sleeves pushed up his forearms. He looks relaxed in that rare, unguarded way he only ever is when it’s just you.
“You keep shiverin’,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to you from under his lashes.
“I’m fine,” you say automatically.
He doesn’t argue. He just opens his arm in inv.
That’s all the invitation you need.
You move closer, tucking yourself against his side, and Bucky shifts instinctively—adjusting, accommodating, making space even though there isn’t much to spare. His arm comes around you, solid and warm, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
For a few minutes, it’s perfect like that.
Then he sighs.
A deep, sleepy sound—and before you can react, he rolls just enough that his weight follows.
He doesn’t pin you down suddenly. He settles. Slowly, carefully, like he’s testing whether this is okay. His chest presses against your shoulder, his thigh drapes over your legs, and his arm tightens just a bit around your middle.
Oh.
Oh, wow.
He’s heavy. Not in a bad way—just real. Grounding. Like gravity decided to be kind for once.
You let out a soft laugh. “Bucky.”
He freezes instantly, lifting his head. “Too much? I can move—”
“No,” you say quickly, hands coming up to rest against his chest. “Don’t you dare.”
He blinks. “…You sure?”
Instead of answering, you relax into the couch, letting his weight fully settle. Your body sinks into the cushions, pinned in the coziest way imaginable. His heartbeat is steady beneath your palm, his warmth soaking through you until the cold from earlier feels like a distant memory.
He exhales, relieved, and lowers himself back down—still careful, still mindful.
“Guess I’m a lot,” he mutters.
You smile and tilt your head, cheek brushing his shoulder. “You’re basically a human weighted blanket.”
There’s a pause.
Then he huffs a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating through you. His metal hand shifts, resting flat against your side like he’s anchoring himself.
“…Means I’m doin’ my job, then.”
Minutes pass. Maybe longer. Time gets fuzzy when you’re wrapped up in him like this.
His breathing slows, deepens. His chin dips to rest against the top of your head, and when you shift slightly, his arm tightens automatically, protective even in sleep.
Nothing bad could reach you like this. Nothing loud. Nothing sharp. Nothing lonely.
You’re warm. You’re held. You’re safe.
And Bucky Barnes—broad, heavy, gentle Bucky Barnes—is asleep on top of you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You don’t move. You don’t want to wake him. You just close your eyes and let the weight of him keep the world where it belongs—far away from here.
