A/n: I’m not sure I even remember how to do this😂 just a Drabble that materialized from @the-wayward-robot and I trying to protect Bucky from whatever fresh hell The Russo Brothers(😒) have planned for him in Doomsday. I don’t have a laptop so this was written on an iPad that is halfway to legal voting age. Forgive me of any mistakes 💓
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Warnings: language and fluff
It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, Bucky cooking breakfast on a random Saturday, lost in thought, sneaking bacon when he thinks you’re not looking. It’s all routine, safe and predictable, so much so that he’s barely registering your giggles as you FaceTime your best friend. His concern lies more so with his newfound hatred towards this new quiche recipe.
“What the fuck!” A hiss escapes him as his pointer slips between his lips. His frown deepens when he finds it still jiggling under his scrutiny despite having cooked well past the time given on the recipe card he snuck in his back pocket last week at the supermarket.
“I’m too old for this shit...” he turns, seeking a distraction for the gelatinous disaster and finds himself right in another line of fire.
You greet his approach with a quick smile and go back to the topic at hand. “Yeah, I’ll fight for him! Bet your ass I will.”
It piques his interest, and he leans over the island, seeking admission to the conversation, a curious smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
“Yeah, fight like a feral chihuahua.” Your friend’s rebuttal leaves him stifling a chuckle while silently nodding in agreement.
He watches you feign shock, the animated moves warming something inside of him. “Bitch are you making fun of my height? Not everyone on Earth is over six feet!”
A disembodied laugh comes from the screened conversation he still wasn’t allowed to join. “Not this time, just your intensity to protect very capable, some may even say lethal, involved parties.”
He watches your face become fairly serious, and it makes him await something profound or sweet, maybe both.
“Well, he’s just a baby, He needs my help!” You look up, making eye contact with a beautifully confused and scrunched face.
“I-“ he pauses, head shaking a bit in confusion as he works through this scenario again “ you do know I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself...right. It’s important you acknowledge that for me right now. You know you’re still on probation for last time.”
“ It wasn’t her fault!”
“ It wasn’t my fault!”
He sighs, fingers pressed against his eyes at the succinct cries of innocence.
“Ladies the judge didn’t buy it and I was there so I know what went down. I really loved that restaurant, and now our picture is on another no entry list.” The attempt at stern failed him though as he grins at the memory.
His eyes open to you shrugging, unmoved, and very unrepentant “ Yeah well apparently Miss New York’s special talent isn’t quite a real world applicable as mine.”
“Love, you took karate when you were six, twice... and promptly broke your foot. How about we find some peace karate kid?”
You still don’t relent and honestly it’s one of his favorite things about you. “I told her to run,it’s not my fault she didn’t utilize a gracefully extended head start!”
“She didn’t even threaten me, or touch me! I wasn’t even in danger.” His rebuttal was weak though, because he knew what was coming next, and aside from Steve he’d never had someone defend his character so fiercely.
Venom seeps from your words. “ I heard what she said, I heard her say those vile things about you, how you didn’t deserve to see daylight. Peace was never an option Bucky.”
Another sigh escapes him, but he’s grinning. “Oh my god you’ve been spending too much time with Steve...I can’t emotionally support you both. I may be a super soldier but my blood pressure has to have limits.”
“ No, you’re good. We read the files, studies, scientists’ cliff notes, all of it. We’re very thorough, very considerate. You should, however, watch your oxalates, a man your age is very prone to kidney stones. Probably some calcium for your bones,”
“ Concerned for my bones, are ya? “ and suddenly his smile is dark. “ Run.”
And so, never one to snub a graciously given head start you scramble down from the barstool and take off.
“ You guys sicken me.”
The call disconnects to the sound of the smoke alarm and running feet.
The end🖤
I don’t know who to tag after so long away, but if you like this check out my page for more💕
summary | Bucky and reader are neighbors in Brooklyn. When reader has a spicy dream about the broody man, it sets off a series of events that ignites something in both of them.
pairing | bucky barnes x f!reader
wc | 6k [pls I got carried away]
warnings | smut & fluff babes so 18+ ONLY. Cursing, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, p in v (no condom mentioned but pls wrap it up irl), lots of praise kink, handjob, cock warming (if you squint). If a one-shot could be a slow-burn romance, here it is.
a/n | set during tfatws. I posted this on my ao3 account originally, so here it is on my tumblr account!
Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY [again, 18+ only] Minors, Do Not Interact.
dividers by @/firefly-graphics
The shimmer of moonlight illuminated the small space in an ethereal glow. Below the bedroom window, a messy bed was littered with pillows. Pictures hung on the walls to hide imperfections laced throughout the simple paint color.
And you were standing among the wreckage of clothes stripped off your body one piece at a time.
Your hand played with the fabric of your panties, watching the tall masculine figure waiting in the darkness for your next move.
You flicked your tongue. “Your turn. Jeans first.”
On command, a pair of jeans landed at your feet as proof of his contribution to the clothing pile.
“Now the shirt,” you said. A hum escaped your lips as you unhooked your bra. You waited until his shirt, now crumpled in a ball, fell to the floor.
He was nearby, hidden by the darkest part of the room where moonlight failed to highlight his handsome features.
“Lie back,” his sultry voice demanded.
Bare legs brushed the edge of your bed as you pout your lips. “What’s in it for me, Sergeant?”
He stepped closer to your scantily dressed body, as only your underwear remained. “Lie back and find out.”
A grin plays at your lips before you tossed yourself down, burying yourself in the silky sheets.
Through the dark, it was hard to see him but it was clear he had you in a trance.
The bed creaked under his weight as he moved closer. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes,” you mewled, nearly squirming from the never-ending tightness in your lower belly.
You needed him. Wanted him.
Callous hands gripped your ankles. “Can I taste you?”
Your breathy voice sputtered out ‘yes’.
Instantly, his head lowered into the only sliver of moonlight over the bed. His blue eyes were the first thing you always were drawn to. Bright and clear like the sky on a spring morning. But woven throughout were waves of steel, silver, like a shadow trying to dull his brightness. Chiseled jaw with stubble. Short brown hair that clipped perfectly around his face.
“Bucky!” Bucky Barnes, your neighbor who just moved into the complex, was the only person you wanted in this world.
Those blue eyes drop to your body.
“Bucky.”
Fingers trailed up to the band of your panties and within seconds they were gone. “Impatient as always,” his sweet laugh seemed to take on a hint of something hot, something feral.
“Mhm.”
His head dipped between your legs. “Baby,” Bucky gripped your thighs as his tongue slid across the softest, most inner part of your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel good. Just like that,” he coaxed as your knees spread to allow him complete access.
“That’s my girl.”
Your head dropped back against the bed at the sheer sound of his raspy, honey dipped voice – You snapped your eyes open.
Sweat pooled at the back of your neck. Sheets tangled between your legs, twisting around into a woven knot. Your hands fell to the thumping rhythm in your chest.
“Fuck, fuck…” you cursed between pants of air. Like the world was crashing down on your chest, you couldn't breathe.
Bucky. Bucky. It felt so real. His skin on yours. His touch. His tongue. “What the fuck?”
Bucky Barnes, your neighbor, who you talk to in passing since he moved in. He was very attractive, you couldn’t deny that. And now you’re having sex dreams about him.
He was quiet and removed, most likely because of who he used to be: the Winter Soldier.
People whispered about him in the complex, sharing secrets on the elevator. I heard he’s killed thousands of people. I heard he worked for Hydra and is still working for them.
You ignored their stupid comments, knowing damn well he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. When those blue eyes looked at you it was clear that he was a wounded shell of a man trying to find himself in a new world, not some soulless machine.
And those vibrant eyes carried into your dream. A dream that felt too real.
You wobbled off the bed, which was easy considering you were inches from falling. Padding to the bathroom you jumped into a luke-warm shower. The more you scrubbed and washed the thoughts away the more you could feel him on your skin. Under your skin. In every inch of your mind.
He was like a drug, lingering in your system. A drug you didn’t expect to be so potent. It’s just Bucky. He’s just some guy you met from across the hall. He’s a nice guy.
Maybe it was because you helped him not too long ago when he moved in as a “welcome to the neighborhood” greeting. Since then, you both have done little things for each other.
For one, you brought him muffins because he’d mention quickly how he likes blueberry sweets. It was a simple thing that offered no reciprocation. But then, he brought you a bunch of Japanese sweets that were out of this world amazing. And the little things kept on happening. Now, you chat in the halls and you look forward to it everyday.
Shit, maybe you were kind of crushing on Bucky Barnes.
“UGH!” a frustrated yelp escaped your lips. The tile wall became a post to rest your wildly spinning head.
No, this dream – these feelings – they were all just in your mind. Right?
He replayed the scene in his mind. Over and over, he circled back through the hazy nightmare. Blood. Bullets. Knives. He killed people, he knew it was him in those memories. It was his finger pulling the trigger, and yet it was like someone else did it.
It wasn’t really him. It was what they made him to be. A monster.
“—still having nightmares?”
The question cut through his dissociative moment, but like a statue he kept still. His eyes focused on the corner where the tile met the molding.
“James,” the woman pestered, “I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?”
“No.” Bucky Barnes tipped his head back, staring up at the blank white ceiling above him.
“James. I can’t help if you’re not being truthful with me.”
He didn’t respond. He knew there wasn’t any way he’d get out of these mandatory therapy sessions. The longer he sat here, the less sanity Bucky could maintain.
“Okay,” his therapist sighed wistfully, “no nightmares?” Her eyes burned into him. “Fine. Then let’s move on. Have you talked to anyone recently? Sam? That neighbor across the hall?”
His eyes snapped towards the mid-aged woman. “My neighbor?”
“Now don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not—”
“The neighbor who helped you.” He stared blankly at the therapist. She sighed, scribbling something in her notebook. “She fixed your radio—”
“Gramophone.”
Her pen moved as her eyes circled him, curiously. “A what?”
“You know, a gramophone. A record player.”
The woman hummed and Bucky clenched his fist. He started to silently plot how he could escape the questions he was currently under fire for. He didn't want to talk about the nicest woman from across the hall. The kindest stranger with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He’d like to keep it to himself.
“Well. This woman who fixed your gramophone is the same woman you mentioned,” she scanned the paper before wildly circling something, “knocking at your door with…muffins.”
He paused, contemplating her words. He’d be lying if he said he hasn't thought about his neighbor on more than a few occasions now.
On the elevator, he’d nod when she said ‘good morning’. Another time, she knocked to tell him about the roofing construction in the complex that would start early in the morning. It was sweet of her to tell him, but Bucky never had the nerve to say he never slept so the noise never bothers him.
She’s the one with the sweetest smile and pleasant conversation. He couldn't help but like her a bit more each day they interacted. Just last week, he walked with her up to their complex from the street.
Although Bucky told that to his therapist, what he didn't say was how he knocked on her door with homemade dorayaki. It was a gift from his friend Yori but he wanted to share something sweet with the kindest woman he knows.
But none of that would leave the confines of his mind. Instead, a snide smile seemed to match his tone. Bucky sighed, “boy did I say all that?”
“James.”
“Doc.”
She groaned, clicking the pen again. The look on her face was something Bucky was used to now. The woeful stares and patronizing expression were a part of coming back from being the monster they made him into. The weapon of a man Hydra used at their disposal until he was no longer necessary–until he wasn’t a puppet anymore.
“James, did you ever think of trying to make friends? It’s healthy to have people in your life.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, Bucky focused on his black leather gloved hands folded neatly in his lap. The only person he wants to talk to is his neighbor.
Maybe the doc was right. Maybe he should be friends with her.
“Look, why don’t we start fresh next session,” the therapist sighed as the notebook dropped onto the side table. “Hopefully you’ll be more open and honest.”
Bucky sighed, his tongue flicked over his teeth. “Sure, doc.”
The text message was very clear: be there in ten minutes. That was two hours ago. Either your date had a series of terrible events happen or he stood you up. You checked the clock again. 8:12pm.
It was dark outside now and you could barely see past the street lamps on either side of the road. Tonight was the first of many real dates in a long time. Whatever the reasoning, whether it was no guy was good enough or you were just too terrified to put yourself back out there, you agreed to go out with the guy from work. He seemed nice enough.
But your kindness was running short. He was late. Very, very late.
Now it’s 8:16pm.
Heels tapped impatiently as you sat in the lobby of your building.
“Miss?” A deep voice called out from across the room. The night concierge peered over the desk. Coffee in hand, he raised his mug. “Sure you don’t want some?”
“No, but thank you.” Your smile dipped. These past few hours you’ve been sitting downstairs with the sweetest concierge named Joe asking if you needed anything. He nearly handed off the homemade pupusas he had in his lunch bag after an hour of waiting.
You sighed, tapping the screen until you reread his message again. Ten minutes. You typed out a quick response, again, hoping he’d at least –
The screen flashed to a new text.
Your Date: Shit I forgot. Sorry. Rain check?
The screen went dark. Anger and sadness swirled through your body and there was no distinction between them. You were furious — and rightfully so. He forgot? He was acting as if he misplaced his car keys or left a sweatshirt at his friend's house.
You stood up, mind racing, blinded by swirling emotions and – something hard bumped into you. You stumbled, grasping at emptiness until a strong arm grabbed ahold of you.
“You okay?” Staring down at you, Bucky Barnes gawked.
Those steel eyes froze you. “I’m fine…”
He nodded, slowly helping you back up to your feet. You flattened your outfit into place as Bucky handed off your phone. “Thanks.”
“Miss,” Joe called out. “Any luck?” The concierge tapped at his wristwatch. “If he was my son, I’d yell at him for keeping you waiting.”
Bucky didn’t move from his spot near you.
“Um,” you cleared your throat. “He’s not coming.”
Joe slapped the desk, spinning in his chair. “Now that’s some grade A bullshit!”
“It’s fine. I’ve got a pint of chocolate ice cream in the freezer calling my name.” You turned slightly to Bucky, staring anywhere but his eyes. The same eyes you dreamt about the other night. So instead, you fixated on his hands. The same hands you fantasized about touching you. His chest. The same chiseled and bulky body you’ve caressed in your dream—
“Do you wanna go get some dinner?”
Your face scrunched in response. “What?”
“I was just thinking about eating at this diner down the block.”
“With me? You want to go out to eat with... me?”
“I’m asking, aren't I?”
“You’re talkative tonight,” you chuckled.
There was a spark in those mysterious eyes. Maybe it was because he asked you out or maybe it was because you were actually going to say yes.
“I’d love to.”
One month later.
Bucky ducked down.
“Right there, no on the left–”
“My left?”
“Yes,” you laughed. He reached lower until you nodded with approval. You clasped your hands together as he brought the next round of vinyls over.
The small office in your apartment was converted into a book/music room where you housed everything in messy but surprisingly organized stacks. Rows and rows of bookshelves kept your things lined neat enough to tell the difference between albums and novels. A dresser sat across the shelves topped with the record player and lots of random things you owned. Opposite that was a small loveseat you dragged back to the apartment from a flea market.
It has been a month since your dinner dates started. Neither of you said they were real “dates”, but both of you secretly felt like it.
Every Friday night (and a few Saturdays too), Bucky knocks on your door and walks you to a restaurant. A cute little Italian bistro or a modern Thai restaurant in the midst of old school Brooklyn. Then, it was back to your place for music, movies, and pure enjoyment of another person’s company.
Each night has been more exciting than the last. And somehow in the midst of dinners and getting to know this solitary man, you felt it.
That spark.
It sounded stupid but it was real – that feeling you get when you fall in love. The butterflies and tingling when talking to him. The way he smiled made you melt. The goofy laughs and excited conversations about his obsessions. You were head-over-heels, mind numbingly in love, with Bucky Barnes.
And those feelings were getting harder to ignore.
“Listen to this one,” you dropped the record player’s arm down. “You’re gonna love it.”
A soft melody echoed through the space and he nodded his head in approval. “Told you. It's a good album.”
“Yeah, but I never heard of them.” He leaned against the dresser.
“Never?”
“No,” his eyes flickered from you to the album. The Bee Gees. His gloves were removed, piled on top of the mahogany colored wood. Stacks of vinyls towered over the old-school record player you owned.
“Here, this is one of my favorites.” You yanked a record out from the stack and handed it to Bucky. “Take it home with you, listen to it, then tell me what you think.”
His brows furrowed. “Why not now?”
“It’s getting late, I don't want to bore you all night.”
“You’d never bore me,” Bucky said as he twisted the record. “I like being with you.”
Instead of focusing on him and those hands, and what he just said, you dove through the next pile of records.
/-/
When you looked away, he grazed his eyes down your body. He was infatuated with you. The way you moved, the way you smiled. Everything you did had Bucky’s eyes locked on you. It made him feel like he was going crazy. Maybe he was going crazy. He’s never felt so attracted to someone like this before. When he asked you to dinner, he chalked it up to trying to be friends. But that wasn't it. He liked you. He liked you but was too afraid to make a real move.
So asking you to dinner after being stood up seemed like the easiest way to ask you out without putting himself out there. And every Friday for just over a month has been heaven and hell. He was ecstatic to take you out. To make you smile. To hear your laugh.
But he was in hell—a hell centered around his paranoia. He doesn't want to lose you if he tells you how he feels.
Shit. It was getting harder to ignore his feelings for you.
Some time passed and you both wound up on the couch. Conversations came and went. They were silly topics and some things more personal. He let out a slow exhale. “I don't get it.”
You sat up. “Get what?”
“I don’t understand why you’re so nice to me. I know you know who I am… or who I was. I just can't understand how someone so kind and smart and–”
“I know a good person when I see one. Maybe it’s hard for you to see that you’re not a bad person. You’ve done bad things, most people have. But that soldier isn't the man who’s in front of me listening to music.” Your hand gently brushed his vibranium fingers exposed past the henley sleeve. “The past doesn't always have to define who you are today. If you know the bad stuff, understand the horrible things you've done, and you grow from it? You’re a better person than the rest of us, Bucky.”
He didn’t move or speak. He just watched you as if your next move would be the one to level him down to nothing but ‘the real him’.
The real him—when he was just a dumb kid from Brooklyn heading out to fight for a war he knew little about. You saw him for who he was: wounded and broken, but not irreversibly damaged. You could see him for who he wanted to be and Bucky wasn’t ever going to let that go.
“You’re something else,” he murmured your name like it was a prayer on his tongue.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He lifted the vinyl. “Well I should head home. I’ll play this tonight,” he smiled softly.
/-/
That smile – Oh. Oh. You felt a rush of nerves and excitement through your body.
“Thank you. Tonight was fun.”
“I had a lot of fun too.” He was warming up to you. Or you were warming up to the cold, grumpy ex-Winter Soldier.
He gave you one last smile but you were too in your head to realize. You liked him. You really, really liked him. Bucky was already out in the living room when you called for him. “Next Friday?”
You wanted to do this again. More than Fridays. Many times. For dinner. Drinks. Anything. He sparked something in you that couldn't be put into words. Something unknown. Unfamiliar. Exciting. You wanted, no, needed more.
He poked his head through the doorway. That light smile plastered across his face, warming his tense features. “Next Friday.”
One week later.
You polished off the last handful of popcorn. Bucky slumped against your shoulder as he tapped his fingers on his jean-covered knee.
“Okay you were right. I really hated that movie,” he turned to you with a dreamy expression.
“If you liked the Hobbit that much when it came out–”
“When it came out in 1937 it was a masterpiece.” He rested deeper into the couch as the credits rolled and it brought you back to the streaming platform’s screen. “Now that was poorly executed.”
Bucky could ramble on and on about his love for fantasy and science fiction and you would happily sit through every second of it.
“We should watch Princess Bride next.”
Resting blue eyes flicker to your face. “Game on,” he murmured with a grin.
“Need another drink?” You stood up and moved towards the kitchenette.
“Nah, I’m fine. Thanks.” He kept that sweet smile for most of the night. So you played vinyl after vinyl while making cookies. Then movie after movie. At two in the morning, you were wide awake and no matter what excuse you used, tonight was the best night in a long time. Barnes was a surprising man under all that stoic exterior. He was flirty. Goofy. A bit of a nerd. He was more than who he thought he was before.
“You’re staring.” Bucky stood to meet you. The lip of his shirt dropped over his exposed muscular mid drift, but not before you caught a glance at his defined abs.
You nearly choked when you remembered the abs you dreamt about the other week and how eerily similar they were. “I was just thinking about how late it was.” You turned and shut the fridge. “Maybe we should go to bed.”
We.
“Yeah, you’re right. We should go to bed.” He didn’t correct you either. A wave of excitement and nerves bundled inside.
“I’ll set up the couch in the office if that’s okay?”
“Fine with me,” he stretched again.
Carefully, you stepped into the book infested room to fix the cushions. “I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too.”
“Next Friday?”
He nodded, “next Friday.”
“Feel free to leave a note on my door if you need to switch out a vinyl.”
“A note? Like a love note?”
The flirty side that you’ve seen of Bucky was back. He was in this trance, watching you. He was mesmerizing but you continued fixing his bed. You moved towards the dresser in the room, opening the top drawer for blankets.
“No, but I wouldn’t mind,” you whispered.
“You wouldn’t?”
You shook your head. “I’d write back but don't expect anything poetic.”
“Well then.” Bucky leaned in, “guess I’ve got some writing to do.”
“Guess so.”
He was so close to you. If it weren't for his shirt, you’d be staring at his abs again. “What would you say?” Your voice was so quiet.
“Hm?”
“In the note.”
“My love note?”
“Yeah.”
He kept that piercing yet warming gaze on you. “I’d say that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re the kindest person to ever walk into my life. You look at me and I can’t help staring back. I’d say…you’re amazing. And that I’d be an idiot not to tell you. I’d be even more of an idiot not to show you how I feel.”
Those butterflies returned with a sense of urgency. Hot, twisting excitement buried deep in your belly as his rasping voice sucked you in. It wasn’t a matter of how you would tell him how you feel. It was a matter of when. And this was it.
“How would you show me?”
He stepped in close. “Show you how I feel…” he pondered the question. Searching his mind, Bucky seemed to be in a swirling pit of emotions in front of you. “If I was the old me, before everything, I would take you out to dinner.”
“Check,” you grinned. “Next.”
“Well, then walk you home.”
“Bucky, this sounds like any old Friday–”
“And I’d kiss you.” He was so close yet not close enough. You needed him. The dresser’s edge dug into your back as he stepped towards you again. “I’d kiss you softly so I could savor each second.”
Something hot and urging was burning through you. Then, his hand brushed against your wrist. “Is this okay?”
“Touching me?” Your voice felt heavy.
“Yeah. Touching you.”
Your breathing was rapid and deep, each inhale bringing you one second closer to smashing your lips on his. “Yes.” You were breathless. Then his arm brushed your hip.
“And then…what would happen?”
A wolfish grin crossed Bucky’s face. “Honey, we’d barely make it to the bedroom.”
Warmth rushed to your belly to the core of your body. You wanted to be held by Bucky. Kissed. Licked. Fucked. One more touch and you were sure there wouldn't be anything stopping you. And you were desperate for him.
“Touch me again,” you whispered. The wooden dresser dug into your back but the pain was so faint compared to the toe curling feeling Bucky gave you.
He loomed over you. Skin and vibranium trailed up your jeans until he clamped down on your waist.
“I’m a bit rusty,” Bucky whispered. “But I wanna make you feel good. Tell me if this is okay.”
You feverishly nodded, tugging at the henley he wore. “I want you. I need you.”
Those bright blue eyes darkened as something primal took over. His hips pin onto yours as his knee slides between your legs. You hitch a breath as he leaned into the movement. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip like he was thinking about his next move–contemplating his options.
“That so?” His mouth hovered above yours. Tentatively, Bucky squeezed your waist as his warm breath trailed down your cheeks.
You whined and inched closer until you kissed him. It was soft, just like he said. His lips danced with yours while those hands migrated up to your neck. He circled the delicate skin at your clavicle, tracing it back and forth.
Savoring every morsel of his kiss, you leaned in with a whimpering sigh.
He moaned in reply and twisted his fingers into the back of your hair. He pulled and angled himself so you were pressed more into him rather than the dresser.
“You’re… rusty?” you gasp between kisses.
“I used to be pretty good at this part.”
“Mhm,” you slid your hands down his chest. “I’ll say.”
Within seconds, you were straddling Bucky as he carried you down the hallway. He was strong. Never did you doubt the ex-winter soldier to carry you across your apartment. The man was multitalented.
He kissed you again, tugging on your soft lips with each step to the bedroom. You slide your hips down a little with the hopes of relieving the already budding ache. But it was his bulge that halted your movement.
Bucky pulled back, “shit. You feel that? You feel how hard you make me?”
A mewling moan escaped your lips and you pushed down onto his cock. “So fucking hard.”
He growled when you rutted against him. “Oh, God.”
You liked the way he quivered under your body as if your touch made him desperate to relieve his own ache. His arms pulled you closer, “Christ, I'm not gonna hold out much longer with you doing that to me.”
The bedroom door opened and closed with a quiet thump. His hand was firm on your ass while the other wrapped around your waist as he maneuvers through the pitch-black room.
You nudged against his stiff cock again. “Please.”
Without hesitating, he lowered you to the bed. Bucky dropped to his knees as your pants and underwear were tugged down instantly. It was all his pent-up excitement fueling this sleep deprived man.
As he made a move for your top, you pressed your hands against his chest.
Your tongue flicked between your lips. “Slow down, now it’s your turn. Shirt.”
He grinned, tossing the henley to the floor with your clothes. You pushed him back to admire his chiseled body. But you also couldn't help but stare at the scars. The vibranium.
Bucky moved with you on the bed and nestled between your legs. Any clothes left were tossed over the side, forgotten.
He kneeled above you, heavy eyes scanning your body. Every inch.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.” He dipped low, nestling himself fully between your opened legs. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Tentative movements of his hands explored your body. His mouth drags hot, open-mouthed kisses up your inner thighs. Then, that mouth was on your pussy. Gentle and unsure, Bucky started to figure out what you liked. Understanding what wasn’t comfortable. But eventually, he had a handle on it.
He picked up on the way you twisted and pressed down. Sensing your love for his movements, he continued. Your hands gripped the short brown hair on his head. You gasped, “Bucky please.”
He rolled his tongue then flattened it, twisting and stimulating your sensitive clit. His vibranium hand slowly trailed up until it reached your breast. He squeezed as Bucky continued the same pattern over and over. Inching you closer to the inescapable height of your orgasm.
You whined, “oh. Oh, yes.”
“So good. Just like that,” his finger slipped inside. Then another. You bucked up as he curled and fucked you with his thick fingers. “You’re so tight,” he moaned into your pussy between licks. “Come on baby. Just like that.”
“Please,” your hand tugged his hair again. But he wasn’t relenting. Bucky’s fingers continued their rhythmic pattern in and out as his tongue lapped your clit. You cried out, “Fuck, baby—”
He rocked his hips into the mattress. You knew he was still so hard. The image of his hard cock and the feeling of him between your legs sent you over the edge. The throbbing sensation of your orgasm hit you like a train. You cried out, bucking under his weight. It was hot and fast, but you could still feel another orgasm begging for release once again.
His mouth slipped away from your throbbing pussy as he dragged his devilish tongue up your stomach.
To your happy surprise, his thick fingers stayed inside you. Slowly moving in and out as if he could feel your second orgasm building up quickly. His lips trailed to each of your breasts. He nipped at the sensitive skin before finally kissing you.
A breathy gasp escaped your lips. He was relentless with those fingers of his. He grinned, pinning himself against you. His hard cock pressed down on your stomach.
“Bucky.” Your hands traveled down. You squeezed.
Bucky’s eyes rolled back as a gasping moan left his lips. You squeezed again, rubbing up and down his cock already slick with his own pre-cum. “I can help you feel good too.”
He dropped his head, “but I’m not done with you yet.”
“I want to make you feel good too.” You squeezed his cock again. He nearly toppled over. “You deserve it.”
He moaned in response. “Yes, keep goin’ baby. Touch me.” His words were as hot as the room.
In that instance, he moved his thumb back over your clit. His fingers continued to thrust in and out. You grasp his cock again, watching the blue of his eyes deepen. You pumped him, but the stimulation was getting to you.
“S-shit,” you withered. “Fuck, I need you. I knew it the moment–” you gasp as his fingers curl up. “I-I knew it when we went out the first night.”
Breathless, Bucky propped himself up higher. His eyes roamed your body and how determined you were to make him cum with you. “Mm, that’s my girl, getting off at the thoughts of the first date we went on.”
“You looked so g-good.” You mewled, feeling the pinnacle of your orgasm again.
Bucky groaned as you flickered your thumb back over his tip. “What do you need?” It was a statement, a demand, not a question. He knew exactly what you needed. What you wanted.
“I need you.” His mouth found yours as he seamlessly screwed you with his fingers. The moment he brushed over your sore and aching clit for the last time, the spasm rocked over you. Waves of heat rolled over your body.
“Yes, oh, god yes!” It was earth-shattering but you needed more. It was obvious he needed more.
“Inside,” your hand continued to thrust his throbbing cock. He moaned as you squeezed his shaft, rubbing your thumb up the tip. He was not going to last much longer. “Inside me. Now.”
Those blue eyes widened and you opened your legs wider. Grabbing a small pillow from the bed, Bucky nudged it under your hips. He moved slowly as he aligned himself. His tip nudged at your opening.
Fuck, he was huge. No matter how many orgasms you had, his aching cock was bigger than you’ve ever taken.
“Tell me to stop if it hurts.”
He moved in, gently stretching your already relaxing muscles. You gasped as he pushed in a bit deeper.
Those blue eyes shot up to you, “I should stop–”
“No.” You lifted your hips and he slid deeper. You tossed your head back. “Keep going.”
You exhaled as he sunk down to the base of his cock. He pressed into you, leaning above by his elbow. The motions were slow and steady at first as Bucky found a solid rhythm again. You dug your nails into his back as he thrusted deeper. Harder. Faster. He was fucking you so deep, so good.
Bucky kissed you. His vibranium fingers found your clit once more. The sensations were too much to bear.
You cried out in pleasure as he groaned into your neck. Harder. Faster.
A third orgasm wrecked your body. The sensation of his cock slamming into you with the rub of his vibranium thumb on your clit sent chills down your spine. Twisting and writhing under his touch nearly had Bucky spilling over. He bared down on you, feeling every inch of your pussy tighten and throb. You mewled, “oh god yes. Fuck yes.”
When you were finished, he was close behind. It was like he waited for you. Hoping to please you first like he insisted the moment he kissed you.
Bucky slammed into you again and came with a breathy groan. “I knew you could take it,” he grunted, spilling inside as he leaned down to press his sweaty chest against your breasts.
“That’s it,” he moans. “S-so good to me. Take it.”
It was all too much. His body against yours, the feeling of him inside you. You were folding at his touch. With one final rut, he was finished.
Against the bed, Bucky collapsed into you. Both bodies were covered in sweat, panting like it had been the most intensive work out of your lives. He kissed your lips, not bothered to pull out.
He liked how he was still throbbing inside you.
“Wow.” He murmured your name, “That was…you’re amazing.” He brushed your cheek. “Was that okay?”
“Y-you’re kidding, right?” Your chest bounces as you laugh. It wasn’t intentional, but you couldn’t contain yourself.
Bucky lifted enough to see your smiling face and glossed over eyes. You looked drunk on him.
“What?”
“How the fuck are you rusty?”
His tight lips turned into a wide grin as he joined in on the laughter. “We made it to the bedroom at least,” he hovered above your body.
“Barely.”
You smiled. He kissed you. Pressed together, slick with sweat, you held each other tightly.
Sunlight danced across the bedroom leaving a rosy glow everywhere. You stretched, remembering the feeling of his skin pressed against your body.
Remembering last night.
His kisses were hauntingly beautiful. Each time his lips brushed yours, it felt like parts of you were placed back where they belong. Like pieces of yourself had been missing for years and he was putting you back together. You’d never be able to forget the way he felt, the way he tasted.
His kiss would linger on your skin even after tonight because you knew that he was more than just a dream.
He was your reality.
Almost on cue, a strong arm draped across your waist and tugged you backwards.
“Morning,” Bucky yawned.
“Mm, morning. Want some breakfast?” You spot the time on your cell phone wedged onto the nightstand. “Or I guess brunch? I can make waffles.”
His fingers trailed the length of your body and you rolled over until his sturdy chest pressed to your front. “Waffles?”
“Mmhm,” you nestled close. “Only if you want.”
Bucky refused to pull away. Every morsel of his being was tied to you, right here, right now. He smiled. “I do.”
“Perfect,” you grinned.
His pink tinted lips pressed against your temple as his vibranium arm tucked you under his body. Rolling over, he hovered above you. “I happen to make the best cup of coffee in Brooklyn.”
“Well, it just so happens that I love coffee.” You leaned into his embrace as his lips met your eager mouth.
TW: Vampiric themes, mentions old blood, death. (Let me know if I miss any).
You return to the woods at dusk, because you don’t know how not to.
You tell yourself it’s about answers - that you’re just chasing down threads left dangling. But part of you knows better. You haven’t stopped thinking about the man who pulled you from the dark. Steve. The way he’d looked at you like you were already halfway buried.
His warning echoes: Leave now. Before it’s too late.
But you haven’t left. You didn’t even pack.
Instead, you find yourself walking the same path as before, as though your feet remember what your mind wants to forget. The trees arch over you like a cathedral, their trunks cold and wet with dew. Every step is a heartbeat louder than it should be.
The forest knows you’re here.
The sigil burned into your palm itches. It’s faint now - faded but not gone. Like a bruise beneath the skin. Like a promise.
You don’t have a flashlight. Just your phone, but the battery’s dying and the signal’s long gone. Still, you press on. You need to see the clearing again. The dead tree. The place where everything felt wrong and familiar all at once.
And beneath all that logic, something deeper moves. A pull. Like gravity. Like hunger.
The clearing is just as you left it: ringed by stones, the tree in the centre like a corpse mid-prayer. But something’s different this time.
There’s blood.
A trail of it, fresh and red and spattered across the moss like someone bled and bled and kept walking. It leads past the clearing, deeper than you’ve gone before.
You should turn around. You should call for help, scream, or do anything else.
But you follow it.
The blood glows in the dying light, sharp and stark against green. Your breath fogs in the air, even though it shouldn’t - it’s summer, but your fingers feel like winter.
The trees get thicker.
Then you see him.
At first, you think he’s a statue. Pale, still, and posed like something carved from marble. But then his head lifts.
And he looks at you.
His eyes catch the light - too bright, too sharp. Like a wolf just before it lunges. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t snarl or flee. He just stares.
Blood stains his hands.
You stop dead.
He’s beautiful in a way that hurts to look at. Not soft-beautiful, not charming. Beautiful like lightning in a storm, like sharp edges and shattered mirrors. His hair is long, curling around his jaw in damp strands. He’s barefoot. His clothes are torn and muddy, and there’s something in the way he holds himself that speaks of restraint. Or agony.
You want to run. You don’t.
He doesn’t approach.
Neither do you.
For a long time, the forest held its breath.
Then you whisper, “Are you hurt?”
His voice is so soft you almost miss it. “No.”
You glance at his hands. “That’s not your blood.”
“No,” he says again.
You take a cautious step forward.
He doesn’t flinch, but something flickers across his face. A shadow of disbelief.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs.
“I’m not good at doing what I’m told.”
His eyes narrow, like your words surprise him. Or maybe they don’t. Maybe they remind him.
“I’m looking for answers,” you say. “Something’s wrong in this town. In my house. And I think you know what it is.”
He doesn’t speak.
You try again. “Do you know Steve?”
The name lands like a stone. His jaw tenses, and his shoulders straighten. “Yeah,” he says eventually.
“So?” You press. “What’s going on here? What are you?”
He looks at you like he’s seen you before. Not just seen - but remembered. And it makes your heart pound for reasons you can’t name.
When he finally speaks, it’s a whisper.
“Cursed.”
The word slices through the quiet like a blade.
You take another step toward him. “By what?”
He laughs, but there’s no joy in it. Just bitterness. “Everything.”
You study him. “Did you hurt someone?”
“No.”
You nod toward the blood. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” His voice is steel now. “I don’t kill people.”
You don’t know why - but you believe him.
“What’s your name?” You ask.
He hesitates. “James… but most people call me Bucky.”
The name lingers on your tongue like something sacred.
You watch him for a long moment, and he lets you. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t hide.
“Why aren’t you attacking me?” You ask. “Everyone in town acts like something’s out here waiting to devour them.”
His expression shifts - pain, sharp and raw. “Because I remember you.”
You freeze. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Not you. Someone… close enough. You wear her face."
Your breath catches.
“The woman in the photograph?” You whisper.
He doesn’t ask how you know. He just nods once.
“She saved me once,” he says. “Or damned me. Depends who you ask.”
You glance at the blood again. “And now?”
“Now I haunt these trees,” he says softly. “Waiting to fall apart.”
You step closer before you realise it. You should be afraid. Every part of your brain is screaming that. But your feet won’t listen. Something about him - his stillness, his sadness - feels too familiar. Too true"
“Why are you telling me this?” You ask.
“Because you came back,” he says. “And something woke with you.”
You blink. “What does that mean?”
He looks past you. “You hear them yet?”
“Hear what?”
“The whispers. The footsteps that stop when you look. The dreams.”
Your mouth goes dry.
“Yes,” you say quietly.
“They’re watching. Waiting. Testing the seams”
You shake your head. “What are they?”
His eyes meet yours. “Not they. It.”
He steps forward now, slowly. Like a shadow peeling from stone. His hand lifts halfway, like he means to reach for you - but doesn’t.
“You’ll know,” he says. “When it calls your name.”
You shiver.
“I’m not leaving,” you tell him. “Even if you or Steve or whatever’s in those woods says I should.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” he murmurs. “But the Hollow takes its price.”
You meet his eyes. “Then I’ll pay it.”
That surprises him. Really surprises him. For a heartbeat, he looks human. Like a man. Like someone who once had a life, a love, and a soul.
Then he’s gone.
Not vanished - just slipped back into the trees like mist.
You don’t hear him move. You barely hear yourself breathe.
The blood on the moss is already drying.
You stand there for a long time, heart pounding, the sigil on your palm warm again - almost pulsing.
Bucky X reader, the reader is a part of the team. And she and Bucky start to hook up at one of Tony's parties, they aren't dating. But as they are gettin into it, the reader stops beacuse she is a virgin and kinda nervous. She is about the same age as Bucky but it's just that sex has never interested her before him.
Warning: Smut, 18+, oral f!receiving
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Your head tilted back as Bucky’s lips brushed down your neck, his hand sliding up your leg moving your dress’s slit to the side for more access. Your back pressed against the door of the supply closet as your hand grasped his dress shirt in anticipation. You could faintly hear the music on the other side of the door where Tony’s party was in full swing but you could barely focus as Bucky’s finger slid up your clothed pussy. His groan sending a new pool between your legs. “Fuck, you’re already wet for me, baby.”
You keened at his words and gasped as he used two of his fingers to rub slow circles on your covered clit. “Bucky,” your hips pressing forward for more friction but Bucky held your hip in place with one hand.
“Use your words,” he teased, continuing his actions languidly.
“I need-” you whimpered trying to focus on your words as Bucky dipped his head down. His lips kissing your neck, his leg keeping you open for his hand. “Please,” you gasped as his tongue sinfully licked over the mark he left on your neck.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” He hummed enjoying how responsive your body was to him.
“You,” you finally managed. “I need you.”
Once the words left your lips, Bucky dropped to his knees within seconds causing you to moan at the sight of him kneeling before you. His hands reached up your thighs and dragged your underwear down. He couldn’t help but groan as he got to see how wet you were up close. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
“Bucky,” you whined as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, your hand resting on his shoulder for balance.
“Keep saying my name, baby” he ordered and dove between your thighs, licking up your wet folds before wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit. You cried out in pleasure, moving your hand to his hair as your hips moved forward to press him closer, his name falling from your lips again.
His hands moved to hold you down, one hand gripping the top of your thigh that was resting on his shoulder as the other hand held your hip, pinning you to the door. He groaned again causing pleasurable vibrations against your clit. “You taste so good,” he mumbled between your thighs and buried his face so his nose pressed against your clit as his tongue savored your taste.
You felt a burn begin to form in your lower abdomen as your hips rolled forward, using Bucky’s mouth for your pleasure. Your fingers curled around his hair, tugging, when you felt one of his fingers press against your opening. Moaning as his mouth moved back to your sensitive nub, sucking on it as his finger slid inside. He continued to suck as his second finger joined his first, not being able to stop his groaning at how snug you felt around his fingers. He began to curl them looking for the one spot that would make you go wild.
You shivered, moaning, as you felt yourself getting closer to cumming. His fingers stretched you open as he moved them, his lips overstimulating your clit. You cried out his name when his fingers found the spot he had been looking for.
“There we are,” he hummed and went to work. His fingers angled to stroke that spot with each thrust of his hand as he watched you from below. “You going to cum, baby?” He asked and you keened feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer. You grabbed the shelf to your right to gain balance as your thighs began to shake. Bucky’s eyes lit up and he licked his lips as he began to move his fingers faster. He moved his mouth back to your clit and began to suck again. “Cum for me,” he groaned, holding your thighs open with his metal hand.
With a cry of his name, you were pushed over the edge, your walls clenching around his fingers as he continued to thrust them. Fucking you through your orgasm, praise falling from his lips as your body slowly came down.
You felt unsteady as Bucky moved your leg off his shoulder and shivered as he slid his fingers from you. He gave you a knowing smirk as you watched him stand up, licking his fingers clean. Your eyes moved to his waist then as he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down with his boxers. Your eyes widening as his dick curved up his abdomen.
“Bucky,” you said as he took your leg again, placing it on a shelf as he stood between your legs. He began to rub his length along your folds. You gasped as the head of his dick bumped your sensitive clit.
“Yes, darling?” He answered and you felt a blush darken on your cheeks.
“Bucky, I haven’t-” you started feeling embarrassed. “I-” you tried again, stumbling over your words. He stopped his strokes of using your arousal to wet his shaft, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized.
“You haven’t?” He asked and went to step back but you reached for his arm, stopping him.
“Well, I never wanted to.” You mumbled looking down nervously before back up. “Until you.” You felt shy at the truth being exposed.
“Are you sure you want to? And with me?” he asked, his thumb stroking your thigh softly. If he had known sooner, he wouldn’t have had you in a storage closet.
You nodded your head in response to his questions. And with that answer, Bucky stepped back and bent down, grabbing your panties from the floor and stuffing them in his pocket. He fixed himself and then you before he grabbed your hand leading you out of the closet and through the party. “Bucky, where are we going?” You felt a small feeling of rejection begin to run through you but one look from Bucky stopped you.
“Your first time is not going to be in some Stark supply closet.” He answered like it was obvious and your cheeks burned red. “I’m taking you to mine and we are doing this right.”
Long walk home. Reader x bucky barnes ABO SMUT - 18+ DNI IFI YOU’RE NOT 18+
Living alone meant dining alone. And on the long days after work when you didn’t feel like cooking, that also meant finding the best takeout on your own.
Even if you were in heat. It wasn’t like anyone else would be able to get it for you. And you didn’t trust a random delivery person to not beat down your door once they smelled the pheromones that leaked from your door like a bakery.
So you stashed your knife in your front pocket and hurried your way though the streets as nonchalantly as you could. The friction of the seam in your pants was not helping your scent, but thankfully, among the crowd most of the betas couldn't’ tell exactly who the smell came from. Most gave curious glances around, only a few adjusted their positioning while they stood waiting for the crosswalk.
You dashed inside the cramped restaurant and grabbed your order, sitting atop the counter. When you turned, you nearly crushed it into the man waiting in line behind you. “Oh I’m-” You
His throat bobbed, his eyes dark when they met yours. “Do you ahh.. need help with anything?” He asked, as if unsure of his own words. His hair was recently cut, only the font showing the slight curl of the pattern. His boxy face and sweet eyes made your stomach flip, and as you opened your mouth you noticed his hand.
His very shiny hand, that led to a shiny forearm, then bicep. “Shit-” You breathed, unable to smell your food any longer. All your senses had been taken up by him. The way his soap melded with the very male, very alpha scent of him. It demanded your attention. By the immaculate way his body was shaped, how you’d witnessed him on TV and in documentaries a thousand times but never thought you’d ever meet him.
“I uh, I know you.” You said, unsure how to answer his question. What exactly was he offering to help you with? You could think of a thousand ways he could help, particularly the ways he could ease the throbbing in your cunt. “You’re James-”
“Bucky.” He corrected, and eyed the bag of food, his eyes dragging over your body in a way that made you want to melt through the floor. He leaned closer, lowered his voice and spoke so softly it gave you chills. “I can escort you, if you’d like.” He said, glancing over your shoulder to the patrons that stared at you from their seats. One man at the short bar area tossed a few dollars down, and left his half drink to approach you and Bucky.
“Yes, please.” You breathed, ducking your head and hurrying for the exit.
+
“You’re really an avenger now, aren’t you? Saving the citizens of New York, one at a time.” You poked fun at him, hoping to ease the thick tension in the elevator ride. The entire carriage filled with your scent mingling with his, and it was every bit as lovely as you’d imagined on the walk back.
“I’m calling it my good deed for the day.” He said, taking in the shortest breaths possible. If he let himself smell your heat, the wetness that he was sure was between your thighs, he couldn’t weigh the possibilities that he’d be able to stop himself. Even during the small walk over, it took all his effort to try to act as normally as possible when other men looked her way. When they stared at her, at the way her hips moved and the hungry look in their eyes.
Bucky had shared women before, hadn’t had a problem with it. But he’d never had a woman in heat before. He’d never wanted to test himself like that, unsure that he’d be able to stop himself from the urge to knock her up and be stuck with a kid on his payroll the rest of his unforgivingly long life.
He wished he hadn't offered this in the first place. His cock strained against his pants, though he’d already tucked himself three different times when you weren’t looking. He watched as the elevator numbers went up, and up and up… jesus, how tall could the building be?
He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t risk a glance in your direction. He’d nearly taken you into an alley on the way over when he’d stared too long at your ass as you led the way. And God, he could scent how badly you wanted. How much your body needed a male right now. Not a beta. The thought alone made his temper flare. No, you needed a good fucking from an Alpha, and he wanted to be the one to do it. He wanted to hear his name on your lips as he made you come undone on his cock, wanted to-
The door dinged, and he followed you out, taking a deep breath of the clean air. His mind cleared, but the desire didn’t. She started walking down the hall, towards one of the many unremarkable doors. “Are you coming?” She called, juggling the food while she pulled out a key.
He approached slowly, eyeing the distance from her room to the elevator, taking in every small detail of the hall in search for threats. He’d never leave his paranoia behind, and he accepted it. It’d saved his life more than once. It also worked to calm his hard-on, so he could think about actually helping you instead of being a deterrent for other males.
He took your takeout bag, looking to the welcome mat splattered with stains. It was a design he could hardly make out. A cartoonish AR-15, and worn text that said “If the dog doesn’t get you, this will.”
He scoffed a laugh.
“What?” You asked, taking your food from him once you jammed the door open. The thing was off it’s hinges slightly, and required a good hip check to open.
He gestured to the mat. “You don’t strike me as someone who can handle an AR.”
“It’s a deterrent. Works great when I put the boots out.” You said proudly, placing your food and keys on the table just beside the door.
“Boots?” He asked, stiffening when the scent of your apartment hit him. It was a goddamn wall of desire, raking over every one of his senses and assaulting his mind with need. His cock twitched.
“Yeah, mens boots. Keeps the creeps away.”
“Well where are they now?” He asked, concern coating his mind. Had she had so many run ins with weirdos that she’d had to resort to false threats? He prayed she actually had a gun.
“Maybe I’m not trying to keep people out, right now.” She said, leaning against the door and biting her lip. His heart ticked up a beat, blood rushed through his ears so loud he could hardly hear his own voice.
“Why would that be, sweetheart?”
She didn’t answer, but instead shrugged and turned away, leaving the door wide open as she peeled off her tank top and tossed it on the back of the couch.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, inhaling the very sweet, tantalizing scent of her. “If I come in, is a dog going to attack me?” He asked, already toeing off his boots. If he’d known he’d be getting laid when going out this evening, he would have at least dressed better.
“Another deterrent.” She called, turning on a soft lamp in the corner. Leaving his shoes outside the door, Bucky shut it with a loud creak of the hinges.
“Is the door one, too?” He asked with a smile, eyes roaming over her gilded frame where she stood at the end of the couch. His mouth watered at the sight of her perked nipples and soft skin.
“No, that’s just my landlord being an asshole.” She smiled.
She approached him slowly, easing off his jacket with his help. The motions were slow, like both of you wanted the other to know they could be done with this. That this didn’t have to happen if they didn’t want it. An unspoken hesitation that charged the air with challenge. Who would break their unspoken rule first? Who would touch the other first? It felt like a dam readying to break, cracking beneath the weight of desire.
His shirt went next, Bucky swearing to himself when it caught on one of the layers of metal on his arm. He fought to control his breathing, to keep it slow. He didn’t want to rush you, didn’t want to make it a fast fuck that he’d leave right after. No, he wanted to enjoy every moment of this. Especially with such a beautiful, funny omega. In his years he’d met men and women both that had wanted him for his body, for his title, or for his fame. This seemed different. She didn’t pursue him. She’d left that door open, completely up to him to decide if he wanted to be a part of this or not. And the more time he spent in your presence, the more he wanted to stay. Your hand coasted over his bare chest, raising goosebumps over his arms.
His mind raced with ideas to come back. He could offer to fix the door. He could offer his services if she were in heat again. Fuck, he’d cook her dinner if she thought she had to go out during her heat. A part of him roared in anger that she’d even risked going out in the first place. Another was thanking the universe for her craving that led you both to the same place.
“I can hear your stomach growling.” He said, voice low and gravelly. His mind was a tornado of thoughts. The urge to take care of you, the ideas to get to stay, how to make you his, and above the rest, looming over like a cloud, he needed to be inside you.
“I can hear your belt straining.” She countered. Quick. Witty. His cheeks were already warm, but now they flared. Of course she knew, who wouldn’t know. With her scent mixed with her being fucking topless before him, no shit he was hard.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I guess the answer depends if you’re going to fuck me or not.” You said, tension and impatience lacing your tone.
Oh fuck. Oh, fuck this. His temper ignited. Her tone, her very presence caught him aflame with desire, need warring with a want he’d never had before. He wanted to punish you. He wanted to show you just how good he’d fuck you. Then you wouldn’t be asking again. He’d make sure you knew that if she asked, he’d give himself to her. That she’d only have to ask, first.
His lips met yours with a heated, quick energy that you responded with in kind. His lips crushed against yours with bruising force, teeth sinking into lips and skin and tongues lapping at areas you’d never thought of before. His ran from your neck to your collarbone in a flat, long lap before he was pulling your pants down, revealing your naked cunt. He knelt before you, took a deep breath in and looked up.
Your legs trembled at the sight of him there. Dark eyes and hair and immaculate body, his cheeks flushed. It was a sight you’d wished you could get a picture of.
His hands went to your thighs and pushed you back onto the couch, your lower half propped up against the arm while your back laid comfortably against the leather. His one hand, warm and soft, squeezed and massaged your thighs. The other, cool mechanical hand lifted your leg over his shoulder and wrapped around it, holding you in place. Warm, long kisses pressed against your inner thighs, his tongue leaving chill spots the entire way up.
His mouth grazed over your waiting pussy, he laid his tongue flat against your clit and watched as you jolted from the shock of it.
“Fuck-” You breathed. He hummed, the vibrations going through your body and causing a chill to break out over your skin.
He started slow, building and building his pace, his eyes occasionally darting up to watch you writhe in pleasure before him. His cock was aching, need filling the marrow of his bones. He wondered distantly if he would be able to last, once he was inside of you. His arm flexed when your thigh threatened to fall from his shoulder, and he lapped at your sex while bringing you higher up on the arm of the couch.
The taste was incredible, sending him further into a frenzy of determination. He wanted to make you come. He wanted to make sure you came until you physically couldn’t any longer. You were a delicacy that he needed more of.
He slid two fingers against your folds, collecting the wetness there before pushing inside you slowly. His hips rolled forward at the feeling. The warm, hot mess you were… he could feel the precome leaking from the tip of him inside his pants. Her legs flexed again, a loud moan making him groan along with you. He curled his fingers, spearing into the spot inside of you expertly. He pulled off your clit to watch his own fingers delving inside of you, working the moans from your mouth. “That’s right sweetheart-” He encouraged, thrusting his fingers in and out, drooling over the sight of you. “I’m gonna make you come. Can you do that for me?” He said, voice deep and needy.
You nodded, but the gesture was lost. His fingers stopped. His hand pinched your nipple, hard, drawing a strangled moan from you. “Say it.” He demanded.
“Yes- Yes!” You panted, bucking your hips to him, trying to get him to move as he had been.
“Yes what, sweetheart?” He kissed your thighs, and worked his fingers back into the rhythm slowly.
Fuck no. You wouldn’t be begging him to make you come. You could do that on your own. Stubbornness and spite fueled you. You pushed yourself up, brought yourself from his mouth and pushed him back with a foot. Caught off guard, he rocked back long enough for you to right yourself on the arm of the sofa and catch his lips with yours. You made quick work with his pants, and finally had his cock in your mouth within a few moments.
“Fuck-” He hissed. If he wasn’t sure about his longevity before, he was now. He was somewhat thankful that you were easing him of the ache, but even more grateful that he’d be able to fuck you without worrying about coming inside you. Your mouth was incredible. Perfect rhythm, perfect warmth and fuck- He squinted his eyes shut and to resist the urge to hold you in place with his cock down your throat.
Within a few minutes, he was surging, his balls so ready to release that he saw stars. “I’m going to-” You swiped your tongue over the tip of him and he was done. He came with a shuddering gasp that left your sex dripping for more of those sounds. He spilled inside your mouth and shook slightly when you brought yourself upright. His silver hand gripped the couch, exposing the white stuffing inside. You watched him a moment as he collected himself, his breathing heavy and labored turned into senseless curses mixed with promises of what exactly he was going to do to you.
His teeth sunk into your lip and with ease, he lifted you from the floor and bent you over the couch. “Gonna fucking give you exactly what you want-” He muttered, stroking himself a few times before rubbing the length of his cock against your waiting pussy. The heavy head of him tapped at your clit, and he rubbed it there a moment, enjoying the way your body reacted to everything he did.
You were on fire. The core of you was burning up, and if he didn’t completely fuck you soon, you’d be ash. Your thighs pressed together, rocking against your clit in desperation. He spread your legs back apart and pressed his fingers there, rubbing you slowly. Too slowly, your body needed him, needed his knot, all of him.
“You’re bad aren’t you?” He asked, sucking marks into your back as he coated his cock with your wetness. “Don’t take orders from no one, do you?” You couldn't help but smile at that. You didn’t expect him to like that about you, not when his title as the winter soldier went against that very idea.
“Not if it gets me a better fucking-” You hissed as his cock slid inside you, stretching and claiming you.
“That’s what you need, a good fucking, right?” He said, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in. You whimpered, arms shaking as you held yourself up on the couch. Coolness pressed into your back, easing you down. Your ass raised higher in the air, his other hand slapped and gripped your cheek, shaking it slightly.
“I think I can give you that.” He snapped his hips forward and your hands gripped for anything to hold you in place. Instead, his hands went to your hips, one of his feet to hooked over the arm of the couch, and he held you steady while fucking into you. You were moaning something, you weren’t sure but he liked it. The need of your orgasm was climbing rapidly, your walls clenching around him with every thrust. The knot at the base of his cock was beginning to swell, catching on the inside of you with every few thrusts.
It was loud. Your skin slapping against his as he took you was enough, but mixed with both your moans, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a complaint letter in the mail in the next few days.
“Please-” You didn’t know what you wanted more of, but you needed it. You were so close, so nearly there that-
He pushed down, shifting you up slightly and pressed you into the couch. He rocked into you harder, forcing your clit to grind against the material. Your insides spasmed, and seemed to take him even deeper as your climax peaked and you fell into bliss.
Oversensitivity was apparently non-existent with him, and within a few more of his thrusts you were coming again, legs shaking violently. He breathed some kind of encouragement, his knot expanded quickly at the sensation of you around him, his own arousal peaking again while your cunt milked him. The fullness of him pressed inside your entrance caused another wave of pleasure to overtake you, and you cried out as the slightest motion against the couch sent you over the edge again.
It felt endless. A downpour of pleasure that had you melting beneath him, shuddering and panting and drooling against the cushions. He leaned against you, but didn’t put his full weight on you. You could feel his heartbeat through you bodies, and your eyes felt suddenly heavy. Two sleepless nights pleasuring yourself in a attempt to keep the heat at bay had made you exhausted.
Within moments you’d come three times, each of them hard enough that they left you exhausted, sated for at least a little while.
You woke hours later, while it was still dark out with Bucky at your side in your bed. You felt suddenly self conscious about the state of it, but realized he’d probably seen much worse than a few piles of clothes lying around. You took stock of him, each scar that dotted his face and the ruffled hair that stood out at odd angles. His face was so relaxed, so peaceful like this. Even with his soft snoring, he was more than just handsome, he was rugged. Intimidating, if giving the right look. No wonder no other men had approached you on the walk home.
Your eyes roamed over the rest of him, how he’d pulled a spare blanket over himself instead of going beneath the quilt with you. Had it been for your comfort or for him to slip out more easily in the morning? Was it a limitation he set for himself? If it was, why hadn’t he left already?
You watched his breathing, making sure he was deep asleep before running a finger over the cold metal of his arm. Intricate layers of metal, locked together so tightly and thoroughly that it felt like a continuous piece of metal.
Idly, You wondered how he ever took a plane anywhere. Your hand drifted to his, where you found half a fortune cookie. He’d helped himself to your dinner, apparently. Your laugh shook the bed, but he didn’t wake. You got up, used the bathroom and went to the kitchen to heat your meal back up.
He’d placed your takeout in the fridge, along with a note with his number. So he had planned to leave in the morning. But he’d wanted to see you again.
You warmed up the food and when done, found the shirt he’d taken off. You pulled it around you, reveling in the scent of him on it. When you returned to the bed, he wrapped you in his arms almost immediately, pulling you close to his chest and tucking his forehead against your neck.
Requested by: MEEE cause this plot popped into my head the second I watched this episode
Summary: Bucky was just following Sharon’s advice to enjoy the party when he meets *yn*, what he isn’t counting on is that he most definitely won’t be staying out of trouble.
Warnings: THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER EP 3 SPOILERS YOU’VE BEEN WARNEDDDDD, fluff, swearing, violence
PART TWO (NAGEL)
--------------------------
“Lay low, blend in. Enjoy the party.” Sharon spoke as she made her way up the stairs. “Oh and try to stay out of trouble, I’ll see what I can find.”
“Trouble?” Zemo smirked.
--------
Sharon’s words echoed in Bucky’s ears as he made his way through the party. Sweaty bodies were pressed up against him as he ducked and weaved through the crowd. It felt like the pulsating music was drumming against his skull as he made his way up to the bar.
“I’m way too old for this.” He huffed out once he reached Sam, gesturing to the bartender for two shots.
“Old or lame? There’s a big difference.” Sam remarked as the pair simultaneously clinked their glasses together and skulled the liquid. Bucky smirked as he watched Sam cough and splutter.
“Now who’s the lame one?” Bucky chuckled, the liquid burning his throat.
“Maybe we both are. Look at Zemo, the dude may be weird but he’s got game.” Sam answered once he’d recovered.
Bucky followed his gaze to see Zemo dancing in between two women, both giggling and chatting animately. He watched as Zemo suddenly began pumping his arm enthusiastically to the beat as the girls watched him wide eyed, before exchanging glancing and slipping back into the crowd without another word.
“On second thought dude’s just weird.”
Bucky let out a chuckle as he leant forward and grabbed the beer that the bartender had left out for him. He took a swig as he turned back around to face the party. He automatically swept over area, his eyes sliding over the hundreds of faces as he looked out for any threat.
He paused as his eyes fell on a flash of bright red material.
Upon closer inspection he noted that the bright red material was in fact a silk dress that was covering the slender figure of a young woman. It was a halter dress that had a deep slit down the front and was almost completely backless, the silk material falling down almost to her ankles with another deep slit also running up her leg that exposed her thigh.
He felt his grip on his beer tighten as his eyes fell on her face, revealing a pair of eyes framed by thick lashes and lips painted with a deep plum lipstick. She was snaking her way through the crowd, gracefully dodging drunken people as they stumbled their way around on the dance floor.
As if she sensed his gaze her eyes flickered up and locked with his. The pair eyed each other for a few moments. She shot him a small smile before breaking their gaze.
“Now who would you be checking out hm?” Sam’s voice broke Bucky out of his almost trance like state.
“No one.” Bucky answered gruffly, glancing over at Sam to see him smirking at him.
“Sure Buck.”
Bucky ignored him and turned his head back to where the woman had been only moments ago. She was gone. He scanned the crowd and let out a small huff when he couldn’t see any sight of her.
“Now, I need you to educate me on this art so I can impress some of the ladies.” Sam spoke up again, dragging Bucky’s attention from the crowd.
“What’s that one?” He asked pointing at a nearby painting.
“That’s the Wedding at Cana, painted by Paolo Veronese in 1563.”
“1562 actually.”
Bucky swivelled around, a breath catching in his throat when his eyes fell on the bright red dress. He had no idea how she’d managed to somehow appear beside him without him noticing. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair as he composed himself before answering, ensuring his face stayed void of emotion.
“I’m pretty sure it’s 1563 actually.”
His answer made her brow quirk up in amusement as she took a sip of her drink, her wrist twinkling due to a very expensive looking diamond bracelet dangling from it.
“Actually I think you’ll find it’s 1562. The copy in the Louvre might say 1563 but I suggest you take a peak at the original.” Her words made his eyes narrow as he studied her features.
“Well maybe I will.”
“Before you do that please feel free to continue educating your friend, I’m happy to sit here and correct you when you make another mistake.” She spoke, shooting him an overly warm smile which caused Bucky to grit his teeth.
Sam let out a low whistle as the smirk on her lips widened. “Damn Buck I think you might’ve met someone more cultured than you.”
“We’ll see about that.” Bucky muttered, taking a swig of his beer as he eyed her.
“So how does someone like yourself become so knowledgable about stolen art?” Sam asked her, his eyes darting between the pair in amusement.
The girl shrugged as she took another sip of her drink before motioning to the bartender. “I know a lot about a lot of things.”
“Really?” Bucky mused, this time it being his turn to raise a brow. “And does ‘miss knower of all things’ have a name?”
“Miss knower of all things does.” She answered as she grabbed the shot glass and pressed it to her lips. Bucky eyed her profile intently, noting the way her plump lips wrapped around the lip of the glass and her eyes screwed shut as she slung her head back to let the liquid slide down her throat.
“I love this song.” She remarked, finishing the remainder of her other drink before she rose from her seat. Bucky’s eyes followed her figure as she begun to make her way back to the dance floor. She paused and glanced over her shoulder, a smirk still present on her lips.
“You coming to dance with me or what Buck?” She queried, Sam’s nickname for him rolling off her tongue, amusement evident in her tone.
Bucky eyed her for a few moments before glancing over at Sam. “Sharon did say to enjoy the party.” Sam grinned.
“Try not to be too lame or old huh?” He continued, patting his shoulder encouragingly as Bucky rose from his chair.
“Thanks.” Bucky muttered as he cautiously approached the woman in red. Her smirk widened as he made his way towards her. “C’mon.” He heard her say as she leant forward and took his gloved hand in hers and tugged him into the crowd.
If she was saying anything to him, he couldn’t hear as he felt himself become engulfed in the crowd as she pulled him deeper into the dance floor. After a few moments she came to a stop and swivelled around to face him. He felt himself grow slightly red as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, swaying her hips to the beat.
“Are you really not going to tell me your name?” Bucky spoke, practically shouting to make himself heard over the thumping base.
“Why do you want to know? You never danced with a stranger before?” She answered back.
“No I just- I usually know people’s names before I dance with them.” He replied which caused her to let out a small laugh. “Back in my day we used to go out to dinner first.” He added silently in his head.
His heart thumped against his chest as she pulled him closer to her and leant up so her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “My name’s *yn*.”
“*yn*.” Bucky echoed, her smile widening at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. “And what brings you to a place like Madripoor?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” She observed matter-of-factly.
Before Bucky could open his mouth to respond, *yn* twisted around, keeping one arm slung around his neck as she pressed her back up against his body. Bucky bit his lip to prevent a hiss from escaping his mouth as *yn* began to rotate her hips to the rhythm of the music, the fabric of her dress pressing against the material of his black suit pants.
This certainly beat online dating.
“Just relax, enjoy the party.” *yn* laughed breathlessly, echoing Sam’s words from before as she pressed even harder against him. Bucky let his eyes flutter shut as he felt his hands automatically move to grip her hips as he started to move his own body in time with the thumping bass.
His grip on her hips tightened as she lolled her head back against his chest, her hot breath fanning onto his neck as the pair moved in sync.
If only Steve could see him now.
As he grew more comfortable he let his gloved hands begin to wander, trailing over her lower stomach before gliding down her thighs. “What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?” He heard *yn* murmur into his ear.
He felt *yn*’s body stiffen as his hands crept lower to just below her panty line. Before he could answer, her hand suddenly shot out to grip his wrist and cease his movements but not before his hand suddenly brushed over an unexpected bump on her leg.
A shape that felt suspiciously like a-
A hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder causing him to jerk his hands away in surprise just as *yn* pulled away from his grasp. “I’m sorry to break up the party but Sharon’s found our guy-” Sam cut himself off as Bucky swivelled around to stare at him, his eyes wide in surprise.
“You good man?” Sam asked, concern written on his features when he noticed Bucky’s look of surprise.
“I-” Bucky cut himself off before looking back to *yn*.
His brow furrowed as his eyes instead fell on a drunk man currently sculling a beer out of a shoe. He frantically looked around, muttering a curse under his breath when he realised *yn* was no where to be seen.
It was like she had vanished without a trace.
“Oh painting girl pulled a runner? Don’t worry about it man happens to the best of us.” Sam comforted, patting his shoulder once more.
Bucky felt a ripple of suspicion wash over him but he decided against telling Sam about it as he finally pulled his gaze away from the crowd to look at Sam. “Let’s get Zemo. We should talk somewhere private.”
--------------------
“Alright what have you found?” Sam asked. Zemo, Bucky, Sharon and Sam were all piled into a private coat room located directly above the party. The bass was still so loud that Bucky could feel the vibrations through the tiled floor. The door was locked with a few security guards located outside and on the stairs leading up to the room.
Bucky sighed, his mind swimming with thoughts of *yn* as he ripped his gloves off. He couldn’t shake a feeling of suspicious that was gnawing at him that there was something off about *yn*.
“I’ve spoken to a few buyers and I’ve got a location on Doctor Nagel.” Sharon spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “He was pretty hard to track down but he’s definitely still here in Madripoor. He’s at the shipping yard.”
Bucky stiffened when he swore he head a thump outside the door, a thump that didn’t correlate with the sound from the party. He strained his ears and sure enough, another thump followed suit a few minutes lately.
“Bucky?”
“You sure no one can get up here?” Bucky queried, looking over to Sharon.
“I’m sure. This is a restricted area, I’ve got all the entrances guarded.” She answered, watching him as he made his way to the door.
“Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam asked.
Bucky held his hand up to signal everyone to be quiet as he pressed his ear against the wood. He held his breath as he listened intently. There were a few moments of quiet until he head another thump and a small moan.
Without warning Bucky ripped open the door and stepped out into the hallway. He nearly tripped over when his foot hit a solid form. He glanced down to see one of the guards lying at his feet, letting out low moans of pain. His eyes travelled down the hall to see all of the guards were either unconscious or were too dazed to get to their feet.
He froze when his eyes fell on an all too familiar red dress.
Bucky locked eyes with *yn*, her lips parted in surprise and chest heaving up and down as she tried to regain her breath. The pair stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, the silence almost deafening as they eyed each other.
“Bucky!” Sam called out, shattering the silence.
Bucky was only distracted for a split second but *yn* took it, turning around and sprinting down the stairs. “Hey!” Bucky shouted, taking off after her ignoring Sam’s shouts from behind him.
Bucky leapt down the winding stairs, catching brief glimpses of the red material before it disappeared around the next corner. Finally his feet planted on the lower floor. His eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto *yn*’s figure as she pushed through the crowd.
His jaw locked and he could feel himself enter into winter soldier mode as he stormed forward and plunged into the throng of people. He ignored protests and exclamations of surprise as he shoved people out of the way, parting them like the red sea as he kept his eyes focused on her like a laser beam.
*yn* glanced over her shoulder and the pair briefly locked eyes before she turned around once more and broke out of the crowd, sprinting towards a door with a neon exit sign hanging above it.
Bucky was hot on her heels, shoving the door open revealing another set of stairs. He hurried up the stairs and got to a landing revealing two doors. He noted that the left door was slightly ajar and he pushed through it revealing a large hall.
He sprinted into the centre of it, coming to a stop when he saw no sight of *yn*. He did a 360 of the room, craning his neck to look around. The room was empty except for a few large wooden boxes covered in tarps. Clearly this was where Sharon kept the less impressive stolen art.
“Come on.” Bucky muttered under his breath as he looked around. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop but his senses were telling him that he wasn’t alone in this room.
*yn* was here, if that was even her name.
He let out a grunt of surprise as a sold object hit his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He could feel limbs wrapping around his neck and his torso as slender arms pulled his neck into a headlock. He let another grunt as he brought his hands up to grip onto the arm that was around his throat.
He furrowed his brow in surprise when he pulled at the arms and found them unbudging. He tried once more, mustering all the strength he had but *yn*’s grip remained unmoving. He gritted his teeth and took a couple steps before shoving his back into one of the wooden crates.
He heard *yn* let out a small moan of pain as her body smacked against the solid mass with full force. Sure enough, her grip loosened slightly which allowed Bucky to pull her arm from his neck and throw her body over his head and off him.
She twisted her body in the air so that she landed in a crouched position but still on her feet. Bucky watched her as she rose to her full height, her body slightly gleaming with sweat under the sterile light. She took a few steps back from him and leant down to spread apart her dress, revealing a black thigh garter.
Just as Bucky had suspected on the dance floor, sheathed inside the thigh garter was a small blade. He watched as she pulled it from her thigh, gripping it tightly in her hand.
“You picked the wrong dress tonight doll.” Bucky tutted as he took a few steps towards her.
“You don’t like it? I’m hurt.” *yn* pouted, placing a hand over her heart mockingly.
“Trust me doll, I like it.” Bucky answered, letting his eyes briefly dart from the dagger in her hand to her dress. “But it’s not exactly the best dress for blending in and slipping away unnoticed.”
“Who ever said I wanted to slip away unnoticed?” *yn* answered, a mischievous glint in her eye as the pair began to slowly circle each other. Her words made his forehead crease in confusion as he studied her intently.
“So you know who I am?”
“I do.” *yn* nodded as she twisted the knife in between her fingers. “The зимний солдат.”
Her answer made Bucky’s lips part slightly in surprise. “That is what they call you, isn’t it?” She mused.
“Who are you?” Bucky snapped causing her to smirk to widen.
“What were those magic words again, Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать-”
Bucky suddenly lurched forward, taking *yn* by surprise. She reacted instinctively, bringing the blade up from her side towards his stomach. Bucky gripped her wrist using his right arm, stopping the knife only inches from his flesh. He pulled her closer to him and raised his metal arm to strike her. With lightning fast reflexes her other arm shot up and her hand enclosed around his fist.
He glanced up at her in surprise when she pushed against his metal arm, stopping his fist from colliding with her jaw. He grunted as he mustered up more strength in an attempt to break out of her grasp to no avail. They were evenly matched in strength.
He had no idea who she was but now he was certain of one thing. They both had super soldier serum running through their veins.
*yn* took advantage of Bucky’s surprise and lifted a leg up, kicking him squarely in the stomach, her stiletto heel digging into his skin. Bucky spluttered as he felt the wind get knocked out of him, loosening his grip on her arms. *yn* reacted quickly, knocking his feet from underneath him and jumping on top of him.
Bucky groaned as his back hit the concrete floor and *yn* straddled him, pinning both of his arms above his head with one hand and pressing her dagger to his throat with the other.
“I think I liked you better when I was showing you up in front of your friend.” She remarked as she pressed the blade firmly against his skin.
“And I think I liked you better when you were dancing on me and not trying to kill me.” Bucky spat back as he squirmed underneath her causing *yn* to cock her head to the side, an amused expression on her features.
“Now whoever said I wanted to kill you?”
“Hmm I don’t know, could be the knife you’ve got against my throat.” He growled, wincing as the metal dug even further into his flesh. *yn* let out a breathy laugh as she leant down towards his face.
“Trust me pretty boy, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
The sound of footsteps approaching and Sam calling Bucky’s name made both their heads jerk towards the door before Bucky could answer her. This time it was Bucky’s turn to take advantage of *yn* being caught off guard. He managed to wriggle his metal arm out of her iron like grip and instantly lurched up to grab her around the throat.
*yn* spluttered in surprise, instinctively dropping her dagger to use both her hands to struggle against his vice like grip. Bucky used all of his core strength to push her off him and roll himself on top of her. Now he was so close up to her and under bright light, he could see that her skin was littered with small scars and bullet holes.
*yn*’s face was slowly growing red as she desperately gasped for air, her body squirming underneath him as she clawed at his metal arm. “I’m not going to ask you again, who the hell are you?” Bucky spat, glaring down at her as he desperately searched her eyes for some sort of answer.
“I don’t-” She spluttered, “I didn’t come here to hurt you, please-” She continued, her voice barely a whisper as her airway grew more restricted. For the first time since Bucky had locked eyes with her, he could see some form of fear and desperation reflecting back at him. The pair eyed each other for a few moments before Bucky slowly eased his grip around her throat, just enough for her to regain some air. *yn* gasped at the feeling of oxygen entering her lungs once more.
“Woah, what the fuck-”
Bucky looked up to see Sam, Sharon and Zemo staring at the pair with wide eyes, all three of them with their weapons raised.
“What part of stay out of trouble did you not understand?” Sharon queried, an exacerbated expression on her features.
“Trouble found me.” Bucky answered gruffly as he looked back down at *yn*. The fear that had been present on her features only moments ago had vanished, the cocky and flirtatious mask had been slipped back on.
“Not that I really mind this position, but given that the cavalry’s arrived, do you mind getting off me?” *yn* asked Bucky coolly.
Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unamused at her remark as he studied her. “You’re not going to try and kill me again?”
“I already told you, I don’t want to kill you.” *yn* huffed, rolling her eyes.
Bucky studied her for a few moments before finally relenting and releasing her throat from his grip. He pushed himself off her and rose to his feet but not before grabbing her dagger and sliding it into his suit pants.
*yn* got herself up from the ground, her breathing still ragged as she ran a hand through her hair and tucked her strays behind her ears.
“You wanna tell us who this is Bucky?” Sharon asked, eyeing *yn* up and down.
“Supposedly her name is *yn*-”
“-not supposedly, it is *yn*.”
“-she seems to like not answering questions about herself.” Bucky ignored *yn*’s input. “Oh and she’s had the super soldier serum.”
“Might want to keep an eye on your friend over there, I know he’s in the habit of murdering anyone who’s come within walking distance of the stuff.” *yn* remarked dryly shooting Zemo a dirty look.
“Hello to you too darling.” Zemo grinned causing Sharon to roll her eyes.
“Who are you? Who the hell do you work for?” Sharon quizzed her.
“I don’t work for anyone.” *yn* snapped back.
“The flag smashers?” Sam asked causing *yn*’s face to contort into a look of disgust. “Fuck no, I don’t work with those amateurs.”
“Just tell us what you want or I’m going to have to detain you.” Sharon spoke. There was a brief pause as *yn* studied Sharon before looking over to Bucky.
“You’re not the only one looking for answers, зимний солдат.” She answered quietly, her features softening for a moment as she looked at him.
“Well then maybe we can help each other get answers then.” Bucky murmured back.
The pair studied each other for a few moments before a loud honk suddenly sounded outside. Gun shots rang out from underneath them followed by loud screams and shouts. Bucky, Zemo, Sam and Sharon looked around in confusion as the sound of hundreds of footsteps began to grew louder and louder.
“Sorry kids, that’s my ride. Gotta fly.”
Within a few seconds the door burst open and hundreds of party goers flooded the room, shouting for help as they fled from the gun fire. Bucky glanced over to where *yn* had been only a few seconds ago to see that she was sprinting towards the only window in the room.
Bucky pushed through the panicked crowd, watching helplessly as *yn* reached the raised window. She clambered up onto the ledge and shoved the window open. She glanced over her shoulder and the pair locked eyes when Bucky was practically within arms length of her.
“I’ll be sure to send Doctor Nagel your regards, Buck.” She taunted. “We should do this again sometime, maybe without trying to hurt each other.” She smirked, sending him a wink before leaping off the ledge. Bucky scrambled up onto the ledge and poked his head out to see *yn* sliding down a pipe fixed to the outside of the building.
He watched helplessly as her stilettos hit the ground. She approached a waiting motorcycle, the driver holding out a helmet for her expectantly. She took the helmet and slung her leg over the seat, sliding her helmet on as the driver throttled the engine. She looked up to the window and gave Bucky a wave before wrapping her arms around the driver’s waist.
“Fuck.” Bucky cursed as he watched the motorbike peel off into the bustling street, going completely unnoticed by the rest of the public amid the chaos.
“She’s gone?” Sam queried as the other three appeared beside Bucky at the window.
“Hm.” Bucky grunted, clenching his jaw in annoyance as he watched the motorbike disappear from sight.
“She was kind of terrifying.” Sam remarked matter of factly.
“I thought for sure she was going to gut you, James.” Zemo observed.
Bucky stayed silently, clearly brooding as he stared out into the street as Sam studied him in amusement.
