russiandoll-from-brooklyn

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Bucky Barnes in Wakanda

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Just Once - Part 2

Title: Just Once - Part 2

Some of y'all were asking for Part 2 of Just Once so here ya go! This picks up right after the first story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!reader

Summary: Grief and loneliness got the best of you last night. Your friendship with Tony was too precious to risk, and now all you want to do is move on. But what happens when the other party doesn't want to forget?

Warnings: smut, language, (technically) cheating, friends to lovers, mentions of past canon trauma, oral (f receiving), protected sex

Word Count: 5.1k

[Starts out sweet and all about tony x reader friendship, then turns into steamy Tony smut. Table sex, included. 😳]

---

Thump, thump, thump.

Your feet hit the pavement rhythmically as you jog your normal morning route. It’s a misty Seattle morning, and the world is still quiet. The sun is rising sleepily, beginning to bathe the world in gold. All is well.

Except. It isn’t.

You turn the block corner, and your apartment comes into sight. You take a glance down at your watch.

42 minutes.

That’s how long ago you had quietly slipped out of your apartment for your morning run. That’s how long it had been since your eyes shot open and you remembered the events of last night, rushing into your mind, all at once like a tsunami. You had turned your head to find Tony still asleep beside you in the bed. One leg sticking out of the messy sheets and his face buried in the pillow. Your pillow.

You had stared at him in disbelief, half-expecting him to disintegrate into a fleeting figment of your imagination. You had rubbed your eyes, trying to clear the haze.

Nope. Still there.

You silently curse yourself and your stupidity (see: weakness in the face of sexual temptation) for the 50th time this morning as you approach the brick building. Perhaps, when you reenter your apartment, Tony will be gone, and this will all have just been a bad trip — or something of the like.

Before you even open the door, the smell of frying bacon reaches your nose. You step inside and are greeted by a peculiar sight.

Tony Stark, clad in nothing but a pair of dark jeans, is buzzing about your small kitchenette. Simultaneously, there are eggs being flipped over-easy on the stovetop, orange juice being procured from the open fridge, bacon sizzling happily in a pan, and toast being buttered. You stand in amazement for a few seconds, processing the scene before you. The wonderful aroma of the all-American breakfast makes you mouth water.

“Y/N! Hey!” Tony exclaims when he sees you.

You slide onto a stool at the bar top, overlooking the controlled chaos unfolding in the kitchen area. Tony truly has remarkable skill when it comes to multitasking. You guess, all that time in the suit, operating about twenty computing systems at once, was good practice.

“Wow. Breakfast?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you cook?”

He scoffs, shooting you a brief smile before turning away to rapidly crack some black pepper onto the eggs.

“Cooking is easy. People think it’s a skill, but really it’s just planning, timing it out. It’s like assembling anything else. You just do the parts in order, trying not to break any yolks.”

You roll your eyes sarcastically at the classic “Tony” response.

Suddenly, all the components come crashing together, and Tony is setting down two perfectly assembled breakfast plates on the bar top — complete with a glass of orange juice for each of you. It looks delicious; it’s been way too long since you had a proper breakfast. Meaning, a breakfast that wasn’t cereal, a protein bar, or a bowl of sad, pale, scrambled eggs. You thank Tony as he pulls up the other stool to sit across from you.

“Dig in,” he says cheerfully, raising his fork. “Good run this morning?”

You nod, taking a big gulp of orange juice.

“Yeah, I heard you leaving,” Tony continues mindlessly. “Kind of weird waking up to an empty bed after a night like that. I finally know what it feels like to be on the other side, I guess.”

You nearly spit out your bite of toast. And just like that, reality comes crashing back down to earth. For a brief moment, it had felt like things could possibly come out normal on the other side. You and Tony could go back to being perfectly normal best friends.

How ignorant.

“What?” you remark incredulously.

You’re on the verge of laughter, partially out of amusement but mostly out of bewildered embarrassment.

Tony gives you his award-winning “I’m innocent!” raised-eyebrow expression. You suddenly become acutely aware of the situation. Tony Stark is sitting in your kitchen, shirtless, serving you breakfast. After you spent a far-from-platonic night rolling around your sheets together. You want to slap yourself.

“I’m talking about the incredible sex we had last night. And then, you leaving me alone before sunrise,” Tony explains casually, pushing your buttons further. “That's usually my play.”

He looks up at you, expecting a playful quip in return. Instead, you just slowly set down the fork you had been gripping.

“Tony,” you begin, seriously and calmly. “Let’s not talk about it. It was one night, and it won’t happen again. It was just once. We gave into the moment, but we shouldn’t-“

“The moment?” Tony suddenly blurts out, interrupting you. You purse your lips, surprised by the new and unexpected edge of anger in his voice. “God. Y/N. The moment, huh? You’re really just going to shrink it down to that. Just a moment.”

You stare at him, confused. Tony’s big brown eyes hold yours with an intensity. It's amazing how fast his sarcastic, playful tone can morph into ferocity. You want to look away, break his gaze, but you can’t. This whole thing was a mistake.

“It was fun,” you finally say. “But it was just a fuck. We were lonely.”

“You know, Y/N. You’re so damn smart,” Tony replies, leaning back a bit in his seat. “So, why do you always try and kid yourself? It bothers me. I know -- that you know -- that this wasn’t just a fuck.”

Your mind races through a million different responses.

Then, what was it?

What do you mean?

Why are you acting like this?

I'm not kidding myself.

But something tells you, deep down, that there's nothing you can say that won't lead to something you don't want to hear.

So, instead, you angrily snatch up your glass of orange juice, rising from your seat at the bar. You grit your teeth at Tony one more time before turning your back and striding toward to your study. You feel your cheeks burning hot.

The study is a second living room-sized space where you keep all your projects. Early sunlight is now streaming in through the large windows, falsely giving the impression of a peaceful Saturday morning. The large wooden table tops are littered with wires, microchips, and other electronic parts. When you first met the Avengers year ago, you and Tony butted heads over your shared expertise in technology and robotics. After much bickering and trying to outdo each other, you eventually accepted one another's intelligence and bonded over your shared field.

You look to the floor of your large study to see the air mattress you had set up there prior to Tony's arrival yesterday, obviously still pristine. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your apartment is absolutely dripping with reminders of last night's events. The empty whiskey glasses, still sitting on the side table in the living room. The couch pillows crumpled from the weight of your bodies, hungrily crashing together above them. You don't even want to think about your bedroom, where you're sure Tony's missing shirt is strewn on the ground.

You push the thoughts out of your your mind, pulling up a seat at your work table. You start to fiddle with a new lightweight shoulder pauldron you're currently designing. You can feel yourself going into 'shut-out' mode, trying your hardest to focus all your attention on the metal in your hands. This was all too much. This was all wrong.

When you hear footsteps behind you, entering the study, you ignore it. Tony quietly traverses the floor, coming to pull up a chair on the other side of the work table. He silently watches you working the wires into place. You don't look up. You don't have to see his expression to know the contemplative expression undoubtably painted on his face. You also don't have to look at him to know he's pondering more than just your work.

"You know, aluminum-titantium alloy won't hold up after a few heavy hits," Tony comments, nodding to the armor piece.

"I'm gonna chromatize it," you reply dryly, not looking up from your hands.

"I wouldn't bother. You can't just give everything a shiny coat to hold it together. If the problem is underneath, that is."

Fuck Tony and his fucking metaphors.

You growl angrily, throwing the pauldron down in frustration. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms, finally meeting your friend's eyes.

"Ok, fine," you say matter-of-factly. "Let's talk about it. It was good. It was really fucking good. And we both needed it. But that's it. I'm willing to leave it at that and forget about it if you are."

Tony rubs his beard in his palm, seemingly mulling over your words. His brown eyes don't leave yours. The warm sunlight coming in through the window behind him paints yellow patches on his bare shoulders, bathing him in gold. You take a mental picture of him, sitting there in his thoughts. A brief, intrusive thought passes through your mind, threatening that this could be the last time you see him. You immediately banish the notion. This friendship means too much to you. Not even a fuck-up as big as this one could make you want to toss it away. You hope Tony agrees.

"Help me understand where your head's at, Y/N," Tony finally replies. "What is your biggest concern right now? Wait, listen, I know there's a lot of reasons why last night was bad. But I want to know what you're thinking."

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. As much as Tony's 'list-and-analyze' reaction to crisis could be annoying, in some ways, it comforted you. Tony is impulsive, yes, but those who know him best also know his calculative nature: the mental risk assessments, the contingency plans labelled through Z. Always searching for the route that will hurt everyone the least. Always.

You consider his question carefully. Again, there's a million answers: the risk of ruining your friendship, the potential awkwardness, Pepper -- oh, god, Pepper --, the pain and grief you've both been through in the past few years. You close your eyes and pick one.

"You're one of the only people left that I trust. One of my only friends. Complexity doesn't often end well."

"You're right," Tony admits. "But aren't you the one who asked, 'is it wrong to not want to be alone'?"

You scoff loudly, angered by his using your words against you. However, that bitterness melts away into nothing when you see the heart-wrenching expression on Tony's face. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are searching yours desperately. Tony rarely shows outward weakness, but right now, the man before you isn't Iron Man. The man before you is broken. Someone who has tried everything to hold it -- his sanity, his relationship, his life -- together, to save the people he loves, to be strong. Someone who failed at that. Someone who truly felt alone.

You rest your chin in your palms and sigh, the weight falling over you as well.

Finally, you speak.

"Isn't it awful -- and strange -- how it can feel like a lifetime ago and just yesterday at the exact same time?"

Tony nods sadly at your observation. Of course, you were talking about the snap. About Thanos.

"You're right. About everything," he remarks. "Sometimes, it just gets too much. The...”

Loneliness. You finish his sentence in your head.

“Me too.”

“You should know though,” Tony continues. “I would never stop being your friend. No matter how complex things are. This — what we’ve been through — could never change, Y/N.”

There it is.

Some situations feel like you're running in circles; you're spiraling downwards and everything you say only makes matters worse and worse. It feels like sinking in quicksand with no way out. In every one of those situations, there's a key -- that one sentence, that one idea, that effortlessly clears the fog. This was it. Tony is going to be here, always. Everything is going to be alright.

You straighten up a bit in your seat. You let out a long sigh and give Tony a small smile.

"I know," you assure your friend. "Sometimes I forget everything that's happened. How complicated it's been before. How we made it out."

Tony laughs, and you're relived.

"How could you forget? It's been a wild ride."

The two of you grin at each other. You take a sip of your orange juice, which you had forgotten about and was now lukewarm.

"OK, happy?" you inquire with a playful tone. "Base material fixed. No need for shiny coats of anything. We're solid now."

Tony lets out a hearty chuckle at the stupid analogy. Suddenly, he stands, circling the work table until he's right in front of you. You suck in a breath of oxygen. From your seated position, your head only comes up to his abs. Bare abs, that is. You tilt your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," he says gently. “Stand up.”

Confused, you rise to your feet. Before you can open your mouth to say anything else, Tony’s lean and muscular arms are wrapped around you. He pulls you into his chest, embracing you in his warmth. His grip is firm, as if he’s afraid you might run away. You soften into the hug, wrapping your arms around his back. You feel safe.

After a few moments, Tony releases you. However, he doesn’t move away, and the two of you are still nearly chest-to-chest. You peer up at him, and your friend’s warm toffee eyes meet yours.

“Wow, a Tony Stark hug?” you remark sarcastically. “I should play the lotto today.”

Tony chuckles under his breath. Despite your joking, it was true that Tony rarely gives hugs. He just isn’t the touchy-feely type — according to himself. Somehow this gesture, right now, meant everything. A hug was the most intimate thing Tony could have given you. It was a seal, a mark saying ‘I meant every word I just said.’

Tony is still standing directly in front of you, so close there’s only a magazine’s width between you. He’s so near that you can feel the warmth of his steady breathing, and the slight radiating heat from the arc reactor in his chest. Suddenly, you feel that familiar tug in your stomach. A rush of blood downwards...

“Tony-“

“Do you want me?” Tony cuts you off. His voice is low, gentle.

You suck in a breath of air at his words. Despite his directness, there's a detectable edge of nervousness in his tone. You smile internally at knowing you have this effect on Mr. Playboy. The slight uncertainty in Tony's voice also tells you that it's true: this is different. Last night was not just a mindless fuck. This is an understanding, wrapped around a mutual care that runs so deep that it burns.

You don’t even try to convince yourself that you don’t want Tony. Every ounce of your being is screaming to close the gap between you. You can still hear the scientist-logic-brain in you resisting, but your heart feels at ease. You and Tony. A concept that felt like the forbidden fruit itself just ten minutes ago now looked more like an oasis. And oasis that was maybe alright to take a drink from every once in a while.

You snake one hand upward to hold his cheek. Tony pushes gently into your palm.

It's you who leans in first. When your lips collide, it's soft. He presses himself into you, a delicate sigh escaping. You pull back just enough to whisper a breathy "I want you."

And oh, god do you want him.

“Then, have me,” Tony whispers back, gently.

You nearly visibly shiver. Any trace of hesitation is gone from his voice now. His words are demanding, but his tone is more of a plea.

“Do you want to go the bedroom?”

“No,” Tony replies immediately. He’s breathless. “Right here.”

You immediately feel wetness drop into your panties. Tony’s eyes have grow darker, as they bear down at you. The intensity makes your legs feel weak. You need him. He needs you.

In a moment of boldness, you bring your hands down to the hemline of your shirt. You lift the garment up and over your head, placing it on the work table beside you. Tony’s eyes wander to your red sports bra and your now-stiffened nipples showing through the sleek fabric.

In the next breath, Tony is suddenly kissing you again, his lips against yours in a desperate hunger. He brings his large, roughly calloused hands to your waist. He firmly grips your body, making you feel tiny in his hold. You let a small moan escape your lips.

Still holding you in his grasp, Tony starts to walk you backwards until your backside is pressed against the edge of your large work table. Tony’s hips press forward into you, making you gasp with excitement. You fingertips tangle in his hair, just wanting more and more and more...

In an effortless movement, Tony lifts your sports bra over your head. He throws the red fabric to the side, neither of you caring where it lands. Tony breaks away from your lips, starting to kiss down your cheek, jaw, and then finally giving attention to the delicate skin on your neck. Again, he’s careful not to nip or suck too hard to leave marks. The light scratching of his facial hair contrasts with the soft wetness of Tony’s lips, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

He continues to attend to your neck and jaw as one of his jean-clad thighs moves to fall between your legs. You let out a deep groan as Tony begins to rub and and roll his knee forward, stimulating your clothed core. His movements are like a wave, every forward crest bringing you a tiny bit of that friction your body wants so, so much. You’re in awe of the control Tony has over his movements and the effortless pleasure he’s capable of giving. You can’t help but find his experience and expertise sexy.

“Y/N,” Tony breathes against your neck. “Say it again. Please. Say you want me.”

It occurs to you that, aside from last night, Tony hasn’t felt wanted in a long time. Like, truly wanted. A pang of sadness fills your heart.

“Tony. I want you,” you declare, making sure the conviction in your voice shines through. You don’t have to try. You desire him more than anything right now. “I want you. I want this.”

With your words, Tony moans deeply into your jawline and begins to move his leg between yours more vigorously. Your fingertips trace over his bare back muscles. You trail your hands upward, into the nape of his neck, massaging his scalp. Everything about his beautiful form fits perfectly in your hands.

Tony continues moving downwards, soon finding your right nipple in his mouth. You arch your back, letting a loud moan escape your lips. He works your nipple expertly, rolling it and playing at it with his tongue. He alternates to your other nipple, his thumb replacing where his mouth just left. He lightly strokes the hard, spit-slick bud, and the combination of coolness and friction is heaven.

Tony stands back up, and a second later, his hands are at the elastic band of your running shorts. His eyes meet yours for a moment, silently asking for your permission. You nod a bit too eagerly, and Tony cracks a small, teasing smile. You scoff and lightly slap his shoulder, returning the smile.

Tony pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you in just your underwear. Next thing you know, Tony’s arms are around your waist. You let out a soft, surprised squeal as he lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the work table behind you. Slightly elevated now, you come to about the same height as Tony.

“Hey,” you protest playfully. “Be careful. There’s important stuff here.”

Tony reaches behind you to clear the area, moving your half-finished projects and parts to the side.

“My apologies, Ms. Y/L/N,” he replies with a huge grin. “Got a bit carried away.”

You pull him into another deep kiss. He growls with pleasure when you nip at his bottom lip. Tony is now standing between your knees, his torso pressing gently into your panty-covered pussy. You can feel his erection through his jeans, straining against his clothes. After seeing Tony’s length for the first time last night, the mental image of his cock — just a few millimeters away from your core — is enough to make you drool. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in harder against you. He moans into your mouth, and you feel the vibrations as your tongues tangle together.

You feel Tony’s body leaning forward, slowly coaxing you to lay down on the table. Now fully on your back, Tony’s above you, taking in the sight of your body.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most magnificent creature on Earth?”

“No,” you reply with a smirk. “But now, knowing how many other planets are out there in the galaxy, just being Miss Earth doesn’t seem like a huge deal.”

Tony laughs, smiling with his teeth. You find the crinkles that form on the outer corners of his eyes utterly endearing.

“Well, you’re still one out of four-and-three-quarters billion,” he jests back. “Not too shabby. It’s all about the little victories.”

You giggle. The pleasant thought passes through your mind that despite the current situation, everything does feel strangely normal. Tony is still Tony; you’re still you. The banter between you and your friend is still comfortable and easy. Your relationship, although maybe morphing into something more nuanced, remains unmoved.

You’re so caught up in your inner thoughts, that you don’t register Tony kneeling to the ground between your legs. You gasp when you feel his warm mouth over your still-clothed pussy. The combined wetness of his mouth and your core easily soaks through the fabric of your panties, making it cling to your skin. Tony runs his tongue over your folds, through the saturated cloth. You groan with pleasure, the small of your back arching off of the table. You grip Tony’s dark hair, needing something to hold onto.

The sensation of Tony’s lips and tongue through your thin panties is completely unique, and fuck, does it drive you wild.

After a few minutes, Tony’s hands reach up to hook in the waist of your panties. He removes your final garment, leaving you fully bare. His mouth immediately returns to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, before running downwards through your lips, and then back up again. He alternates this pattern with gentle sucks on your clit.

“Oh, Tony. Shit,” you manage to call out. “That feels so good.”

He hums hungrily into you, pleasuring you to a level that no previous lovers have ever come close to. Tony’s large, rough hands wander upwards. One palm gentle grips your breast, while the other comes under your waist to hold the small of your back.

You raise your head slightly to glance down at Tony. The sight is pornographic. His face is buried in your cunt, head bobbing. The shape of his shoulder muscles, and his strong back. His tan skin, all bathed in golden sunlight.

Pleasuring you. On his knees.

It’s like a painting. Beautiful and erotic.

“Tony. I need you,” you gasp out, suddenly overcome with neediness. “Inside me. Fuck, I want you.”

Those magic words, again. I want you. The effect they have on Tony is instantaneous. Without hesitation, Tony is on his feet. He swiftly unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper. His pants fall down to his ankles where he kicks them off. To your surprise his naked cock springs free. A glistening pearl of precum is formed at the tip.

“Wow, commando, huh?” you tease, gently biting at your bottom lip. “You were so confident you were going to get lucky again today?”

“Of course not. I just like to let it breath sometimes,” Tony remarks. “You wouldn’t get it. It’s a man thing.”

You scoff and roll your eyes sarcastically. Lovable idiot.

“Top drawer?” Tony asks, referring to the location of the condoms.

“On the left.”

Tony hurries out of the room and returns a second later with a condom from your bedroom. Stepping closer between your knees, he gives his cock a few pumps in his fist. You can feel your heart quickening with anticipation. Your pussy is nearly pulsing, needing to be stretched and filled.

Tony rips open the shiny wrapper and rolls the condom down onto his length. You scoot slightly closer to the edge of the table as his hands travel to grip your thighs. You moan deeply as Tony rubs the head of his cock over your slit, spreading your moisture.

“Are you ready?” Tony asks, eyes dark with desire.

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Make me feel good.”

With that, Tony starts slowly pushing into your dripping pussy. You groan as your walls accommodate to his girth. It’s amazing that you took him just last night, and he’s already capable of stretching you like this again. Tony throws his head back, hissing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his pubic mound flush against yours.

He starts pumping gently. The way Tony’s hips roll forward in fluid motions makes you want to scream with pleasure. His hands are gripping your thighs tightly, fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

Tony’s pace quickens, and soon the room is filled with sounds of wetness, skin slipping on skin, and the moans leaving both your throats. One of Tony’s hands moves to your pussy. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit making you see stars behind your eyes. The extra stimulation almost immediately starts tightening the orgasmic coil in your stomach. Tony seems to know the exact speed to move his cock and thumb to turn you into a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Oh, more,” you groan, your pleasure growing. “Tony Stark. Yes, oh, please.”

“Come for me, Y/N,” Tony growls almost primally. “Wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

Tony’s filthy demands go straight to your pussy. You love the feeling of being under him, sprawled out on the table, completely naked for him to fuck. And the dirty talk is the cherry on top.

The pleasure in your abdomen continues to rise until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. With one last thrust, your orgasm washes over you. You scream Tony’s name into the room, not caring who hears. Pulses of pleasure rip through your entire body, even making your feet tingle. When you come down, the convulsions slowing, your head feels fuzzy and bubbly.

Not even a moment later, you feel Tony lifting your legs higher. Still inside you, he straightens them, bringing your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The new sensation is instantly nirvana. He starts pumping into you, and the head of his cock rubs your G-spot on every thrust. Penetrative sex had never felt this good for you.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Y/N,” Tony manages to says between moans. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

The feeling of your pussy being pounded in this angle has your eyes rolling back into your skull. All your thoughts seem to leave your head. The only thing you can focus on is the immense pleasure. The sound of Tony’s balls slapping against you wetly with every stroke combined with his desperate moans fill your ears.

Tony’s thrusts start to become more jagged, needy. His moans slowly transform more into whimpers as he continues to fuck into you. Suddenly, Tony comes with a series of loud groans, his eyes shut tight. You feel his dick pulsating inside you as he orgasms. He thrusts a few more times, riding out the last waves.

He gently slides out of you, his hands coming down the tabletop next to your waist to steady himself. Both of you are breathing heavily, your bodies radiating with the afterglow of pleasure.

Silently, Tony helps you to stand before sweeping you up easily in his arms. You lean into his chest as he carries you to the bedroom. Tony lays you down carefully on the cool mattress before hurrying to the bathroom. He returns a moment later with a warm washcloth.

After cleaning yourselves up, Tony crawls into the refreshing sheets beside you. He slips one arm under your neck, and you cuddle in closer to his body. The warmth and smoothness of his skin is so, so welcoming. In the strangest way, it feels natural.

“I didn’t think it was possible to top last night,” you finally say, chuckling.

“Me neither,” Tony replies. “I guess we just have good chemistry.”

“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh and drape an arm over his chest. “Hey, question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why did you cook all that stuff earlier? Like the eggs, toast, the whole nine yards. It was sort of...”

“Out of character?” Tony finishes your sentence.

You nod. Tony takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

“Honestly, when I woke up, and you were gone, I was freaking out a little bit. I wanted to talk about last night, but you weren’t there, and I just didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were having serious regrets, or if you were angry, or upset with me. Or if you were thinking our whole friendship was burned to the ground.

“I just needed to do something. Anything. Busy my hands, distract my mind. Sorry that I kind of raided your kitchen.”

You turn to peer up at him, letting out a soft laugh. His chocolate eyes meet yours, and you give him a kind smile, endeared by his typical, hyper ramblings.

“I’m sorry I left,” you start. “I was freaking out a little, too. I guess that’s always been a difference between us. I always try to run from the unknown, while you just want to plow straight through it.”

Tony smiles warmly and blinks his gorgeous, thick black eyelashes at you.

“It’s why we make a good pair. Balance. Yin and yang. Ya’ know.”

You both chuckle, content in one another’s arms. You open your mouth to reply, but you’re cut off by a loud growl from your stomach. Tony bursts into laughter.

“Your fault for barely touching breakfast,” Tony remarks playfully. “Which — not to toot my own horn — was quite artfully made.”

“I guess I could settle for a bowl of lowly cereal as punishment,” you reply with mock sadness.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. He starts to rise from the bed, then offers his hand for you to follow.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some more eggs.”

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

🤤

metal arm appreciation✨

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Pretending for the Night

Title: Pretending for the Night

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: It's Valentine’s Day. Nothing more than a typical Saturday in the Avengers Facility, but this year, you convince your teammate (and, unbeknownst to you, admirer) Bucky to spend a night on the town together. After all, doesn't pretending to be normal -- just for one night -- sound irresistible?

Warnings: None

[This fic is basically 90% fluff, 10% angst, 100% cute, romantic soft!bucky.

Word count: Basically 2.7k words of romantic tension.

----

"Hey! Don't touch!"

As you turn the hallway corner to enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the sound of Tony scolding Sam. Tony is holding a pastel purple box above his head, eyes glaring out over his sunglasses.

"I didn't, man," Sam exclaims, both palms open in a defensive gesture. "I just wanted to see what it was!"

Steve is seated next to Sam at the kitchen counter and he gives you a little g'morning nod as you enter the room.

"Wow, early start the bickering today," you tease. You stride over the the cabinet to reach for a coffee mug. "Were you out this morning, Tony?"

You gesture to the sunglasses now perched on your dark-haired teammate's head.

"There's this bakery on South Street. You know. Burton's? You have to get there early because it's really popular. Anyways," Tony explains in his typical rapid-fire, hyper manner while placing the box in the fridge. "They have this white chocolate mousse cake. It's honestly just decent, but Pep goes crazy for it. We got it on one of our first dates, so I think it's really just some sort of olfactory good-warm-fuzzy-feeling association, but regardless... Mousse cake."

"Uh, cool, man," replies Sam with a confused look. "What's the occasion?"

Tony looks up at Sam with squinted eyes. Then, to you and Steve, seeming baffled at your equally blank faces.

"You lot are so depressing. Like, wow," Tony finally remarks dryly. "It's Valentine's Day. Sheesh."

With that, Tony sighs, spins on his heels, and strides out of the kitchen.

"How were we supposed to know that?" Steve asks blankly, turning to you and Sam.

"I guess it does come every year," you reply with a chuckle. "Maybe we are depressing."

You blow on your mug of fresh coffee. Morning sun is trickling in through the large Facility windows, bathing the room in gold. You sigh deeply. It really had been a while since romance was on your mind. Being an Avenger was a tough job -- unrelenting -- and honestly, some days, you felt less like a real human and more like a robot just going through the motions.

A few moments later, Bucky strolls in.

"Mornin'," he says sleepily, nodding to you and the others.

You knew that Bucky never slept well. In the three or so years you've known him, he's been consistently plagued with nightmares and insomnia. Your eyes follow him as he pours his own mug of coffee and starts rummaging through the pantry for breakfast.

"Any big V-Day plans, Buck?" asks Sam with a smirk, knowing well and good that his friend did not.

Bucky looks briefly confused, but then shakes his head with a scoff.

"Haven't had Valentine's Day plans since '41."

"But," Steve interjects, suddenly excited. "If I'm remembering correctly, that was one crazy night. For you, at least."

Your ears perk up. You loved hearing about Steve and Bucky's life when they were growing up in Brooklyn together.

"Bucky Barnes, the player," you remark with a grin.

"Oh, you have no idea. What was it that year? Fireworks in Central Park, right? And the redhead?" Steve starts to recount with a huge smile on his face.

Sam makes an obnoxious howling sound which causes you to burst into laughter.

"Don't remember, Steve," Bucky says. His words are dry, but you catch a shadow of a grin before he turns around to flip his omelet.

Honestly, you don't hate Valentine's Day like so many people seem to pretend to. You have fond memories of the holiday from years ago, when life was a bit more normal. You reminisce on past boyfriends, fireplace kisses, pasta dinners, and late night laughter. All of those carefree moments seem to have vanished into thin air. Where did they go?

A thought pops into your head.

"Well, if none of you have plans tonight -- let's go see a movie! Walk around the city. Take advantage of some Valentine's Day restaurant specials!"

"I can't," replies Steve. "I got that report to write up for Fury. He's been down my throat about it."

"I don't have an excuse," remarks Sam, cocking his head to the side. "But Valentine's Day's just not my speed."

You scowl at him and groan. You throw your head back in exasperation, eliciting a chuckle from Sam.

"You guys! Don't you just want to do some normal people stuff? For once?" you demand.

"I'd go."

You whip around to face Bucky, who'd been quietly forking eggs into his mouth. To say the least, you're surprised. But you don't let your momentary surprise give him a chance to change his mind.

"Yes!" you say excitedly. "Meet at the front entrance at six."

You grin and skip out of the kitchen before Bucky can object. You were going to have your night of normalcy, one way or another.

----

At exactly 6 p.m., you make your way to the front entrance. You had opted for a long sleeve top, light jacket, and jeans. You even wore a little gold necklace. It didn't really match the outfit, but you were just so excited for a rare opportunity to wear jewelry.

Not two seconds after you reach the front entrance, you hear another set of footsteps coming down the hall. You turn around, and... wow. Bucky looks, well, really good. He's wearing a grey cotton shirt under a black bomber jacket, dark jeans, and of course, his black leather gloves to cover his hands from the prying eyes of onlookers. You weren't used to seeing him in anything other than his Winter Soldier suit or workout gear, so the sight of Bucky in civilian clothes was refreshing. You can't deny that he looks absolutely handsome.

"Hey. Ready?" he says when he reaches you.

As the two of you stroll out towards the garage together, you catch a whiff of something warm, oaky, and enticing. Is Bucky wearing cologne?

---

"Y/L/N. Party of two," you tell the hostess once you're inside the restaurant.

You'd found this place via a quick Google search -- punching in "towns near me" and "ramen." You'd just picked the one with the best reviews and least health code infringements, so you were pleasantly surprised. The atmosphere is lively yet cozy, the air filled with the chatter of happy patrons and the smell of gourmet ramen. It's warm, a welcome contrast to the brisk February chill outside.

After Bucky takes his seat across from you at the small table, he looks around the interior curiously.

"I didn't know Upstate New York had Japanese food," he says.

"Me neither," you reply, picking up the paper menu to study it. "Ramen's my favorite, though. I hope it's good."

Bucky picks up his menu, too.

"Never had it before. Hey, what's shoyu?"

You giggle at him and start going over the Japanese terminology. The two of you order and make small talk, waiting for your food to come out.

“Far cry from Brooklyn, isn’t it? Best I could do,” you joke, looking around the cozy interior.

“I actually quite like this,” Bucky replies, breaking his chopsticks. “I don’t think city life suits me anymore. Way back when, I loved New York. But now, this is more my speed, actually.”

“You’re such a senior citizen.”

“Hey,” Bucky exclaims with a smirk, feigning offense.

The waitress brings your food over, and the smell is heavenly. Two big, steaming bowls of noodles are placed on the table, and your mouth waters.

“This looks amazing,” Bucky says, about to plunge his chopsticks into the noodles.

“Wait!” you say before he can dig in.

Bucky gives you a quizzical look as you reach for the white bottle of sake between you. You set out two glasses and gingerly pour Bucky a shot with two hands. You then fill your own glass.

“Tradition,” you explain, lifting you glass. “The younger one always pours for the elder, you old man. Now, cheers!”

He rolls his eyes playfully before clinking his glass to yours. You both swallow the sake in one go. You scrunch your nose as the alcohol burns your throat. Bucky seems unfazed.

“So, you never get drunk? Like you physically can’t?” you ask, reaching for your spoon.

“Nope," he replies. "Honestly, I can't even remember what it's like to feel drunk."

You watch as your teammate gingerly attempts to wrangle a noodle in his chopsticks. He shakily brings the bite to his mouth before it slips from his grasp, falling back into the broth. A little splash of soup hits him in the chin. You stifle your laughter as he scowls and reaches for his napkin. Bucky cracks a grin and starts to chuckle alongside you. The pure authenticity of his smile lights something inside of you.

That smile. Bucky really was devilishly handsome.

You and Bucky finish your meal, chatting and joking with ease. You loved seeing this side of your teammate. Just from talking to him, you could tell that his true nature -- before the Winter Soldier -- was carefree, joyful, kind. You felt like you were getting a peek into the past. As if you were actually in the year 1941, sitting across from a young and hopeful army enlistee. So full of life and potential.

When the bill comes, Bucky swipes it from the waitress’ hand before you can grab it first.

“Hey! Let me pay,” you protest. “I’m the one who asked you to come out tonight.”

He ignores your outstretched hand, taking a few bills from his wallet and closing the little leather bill-holder.

“I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy,” he says matter-of-factly. “Please don’t call me sexist for wanting to treat a girl on Valentine’s Day.”

You swear you feel the lightest shadow of blush rise of your cheeks. There was something so endearing about the gesture that you don’t even argue further. You just thank you and give him a smile.

When you exit the restaurant, the February night was chillier. A delicate flurry of snow had begun to fall. The gossamer flakes are illuminated by the flow of each yellow streetlamp as the two of you pass by, walking to the car. You cross paths on the sidewalk with numerous other pairs, many of them holding hands or walking with arms draped around one another. You sigh contently. A gross cliché, you think to yourself, but love is truly in the air. This. This was nice.

You reach your car where it’s parked on the street corner and hastily pull open the passenger side door. Once you’re both inside, you let out an audible shiver.

“Brrrr,” you say aloud, wrapping your jacket tighter around your frame. “It got cold while we were in there.”

Bucky inserts the key into the ignition and starts the engine. He quickly fumbles with the control dials, blasting warm air into the car’s interior.

“Warming up?” he asks after a moment, looking over to you.

You nod, giving him a smile.

“Back to the compound?” you suggest.

Bucky’s hands are on the wheel, but the rest of him is frozen still. He seems to be pondering something. You give him a quizzical look.

“Forget how to drive?" you tease.

"Y/N," Bucky says, suddenly serious. "Can I ask you something?"

You feel that familiar combination of anxiety and intrigue rise up in your throat.

"What's up?"

"Were you disappointed that only I wanted to come tonight?"

Your eyes shoot over to your friend. He has his hands still clutched on the wheel, his gaze directed straight ahead through the windshield. His dark brown hair shields his face from your side of the car.

"Bucky," you start, turning your body slightly towards him. "God, no. I was so happy when you said you wanted to come. I love hanging out with you."

Bucky's shoulders relax a bit at this, and he raises a gloved hand to his face to brush a strand of loose hair behind his ear.

"It's just that Sam and Steve are so fun. They're always so carefree and happy and you know... not me."

His voice comes out soft, almost defeated. It's apparent that this has been weighing on the soldier's mind, and something about that realization makes your heart ache.

"Yeah. You're right. They're not you," you begin. Bucky's eyes finally meet yours, anxiously awaiting your next words. "And that's a good thing."

Bucky lets out a small, sighing laugh as if he doesn't believe you.

"I was just worried you felt weird. Or disappointed. Or both," he says. "Girls don't tend to like me much these days."

You smile at him warmly.

"Honestly, I think I prefer the dark-and-brooding look," you remark with a laugh. This earns an amused chuckle from Bucky as well. "I've seen the photos of you and Steve from the 40s. The Golden Boy thing wasn't really doing it for me."

You laugh together, and for a moment, that genuine smile returns to Bucky's face. The two of you lock eyes for a split second before you turn away, a sneaky blush tinging your cheeks.

You and Bucky sit for a few minutes in pleasant silence. The only sound is the hum of the air conditioning heating the interior, and for a moment, everything feels right. Suddenly, you're in high school again. You're a silly teenager, falling for the boy on the football team. You're sitting, parked, in the school lot, taking refuge under darkness of the night. Your mom is probably starting to get mad that you're out so late, but you don't care. Not right now. It's that moment of tense silence -- right before he kisses you -- and you're wanting him, wanting him, wanting...

"Thank you," Bucky suddenly blurts, shattering the quiet.

"What for?"

You note the nervous look in Bucky's eyes. The way he shuffles in his seat, trying to look confident and cool all at once. You smile.

"I usually feel like such a freak all the time," he finally replies. "The last time I felt like a normal guy was seventy years ago. I guess, I just thought my days of going out on the town with a pretty girl were long gone."

You can't help but blush at his comment. He thinks I'm pretty?

"But tonight," he continues. "I wish it never had to end. It's nice feeling normal."

He holds your gaze, and this time, you don't turn away. God, he is so handsome. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Buck. Friend.

And there they are again. Those high school, fluttering-madly-in-the-stomach butterflies. What was happening to you?

"I think I like Valentine's Day again," you finally say. The words pass through your lips in a whisper.

Bucky laughs, grinning that oh-so-handsome and mysterious grin. His expression softens a touch, and you see his eyes flicker down to your mouth. But just as quickly as the moment rises, it's gone. It's as if the reins were yanked back, saying 'no, you can't.' Why? A million reasons. You're teammates. You're friends. He's the Winter Soldier. He's scared. He's doesn't trust himself enough yet.

The butterflies are still there as Bucky clears his throat, turning back to the wheel. He puts the car into 'drive' and pulls away from the curb, starting the journey back to the Facility.

You sink back into the passenger seat. You can't help but bite your bottom lip, simultaneously wanting to stay silent and dying to speak. Nothing comes out.

However, in a moment's notice, you feel your disappointment rapidly transforming into a blushing grin. Yes, this was like high school all over again. This was real life all over again. You feel pleased because, deep down, you know that the ride is just beginning. The moment before the kiss. The late night calls. The silently daring one another to make the first move. Fingertips, innocently brushing one another. Stolen glances and the thrill of the uncertainty. The falling.

You gaze out the window peacefully, watching the darkness whizz past.

This was the beginning of the very best part.

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021)

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Feel Again

Title: Feel Again

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes isn't a virgin, but he may as well be — since it’s been, well... 70 years.

Bucky and reader make love for the first time, and Bucky needs a lot of reassurance.

[I can honestly say that this fic contains the holy trinity of smut, fluff, and angst all in one. Prepare your emotions!]

Warnings: SMUT, fluff/angst, soft!bucky, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex

Word Count: 2.8k

-------

Three months.

It had been nearly a season since Bucky first kissed you. The two of you had been up late working on repairs to his arm, nestled away in the nighttime silence of the Avengers Facility tech lab. It had been a complete surprise to you, knocking the air out of your lungs. It was unplanned and sloppy, but somehow it was the perfect culmination of what felt like ages of unacknowledged longing.

Since then, there had been confessions and emotions. There had been more kisses, yes, but always confined to brief snippets of stolen privacy. They had to be. The two of you agreed that there would be heavy implications to your involvement. Would Steve scold Bucky? Would Tony stop trusting you? You and Bucky weren't even sure what this was yet. Best to keep it a secret, at least until things made more sense.

You were fine with keeping it a secret. But the lack of alone time was growing frustrating. Every time you caught a glimpse of his bared skin during training, or felt the fleeting brush of his hand against yours as he passed behind you in the hall, the fire within you burned hotter. You wanted him. And you could tell he wanted you, too. The brief kisses you managed to steal had been getting hungrier and hungrier. Bucky's desire was tangible, even through his steely, controlled exterior.

So, when the team is called in for a board meeting with Dir. Fury and the other department heads, you don't hesitate to suggest you hang back.

"I have that new resin 3D-printer project I should finish up," you tell Steve matter-of factly. "And plus, it would be good for someone to stay behind to watch the grounds. There's still that software bug Tony found in F.R.I.D.A.Y. last week."

Steve mulls this over in his mind for a moment.

"That's a good idea," he finally says. "But you shouldn't stay back alone."

"I'll stay with her," Bucky blurts out, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

You feel your body involuntarily tense up. Don't be so obvious, Barnes. Luckily, Steve and the others don't seem to catch Bucky's eagerness.

"Thanks, Buck," replies Steves, giving his friend a firm nod.

That evening around dinnertime, the Steve, Tony, Natasha, Sam, and the others board the quinjet, preparing for take-off. The huge engines purr to life, and soon you and Bucky are waving goodbye from your place the ground. As soon as the quinjet fades into the lavender-dusk sky, the two of you head back inside.

"So," you say to the soldier, a hint of playfulness in your voice. You close the glass door behind you, leaving you and Bucky standing in the hallway. "It was nice of you to be concerned for my safety. Upstate New York is a really sketchy place for a girl to be alone."

Bucky looks down at the floor which a bashful chuckle. God, he's so darn cute. You loved his shyness and the way he bites his bottom lip when he gets nervous.

"Well, of course. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if something happened while we were away." He takes a minuscule step in your direction. "Always safer in pairs."

You let your eyes wander from the stubble of his beard to the broad expanse of his chest shoulders. The dark gray shirt he's wearing hugs his muscles perfectly, giving just enough impression of the rippling strength underneath. His flesh hand plays with the threads at the side of his jeans.

Fuck. You're finally alone and you can't wait anymore.

You quickly close the space between you and Bucky. You reach a hand up and guide his face down, capturing his lips in yours hungrily. He immediately responds by bringing his hands to your waist. His kiss is firm yet steady, and you feel the slightest hum vibrate through his lips.

The kiss deepens and you part your lips enough to allow Bucky's tongue to enter. The muscle plays gently at your mouth, sending warmth to your core. When you softly nip at his bottom lip, he groans involuntarily.

"Fuck," Bucky whispers with a small laugh. "I guess I'm just excited to finally have some privacy with you."

You grin widely at him. For such a rock of a man, he has this unexpected soft side that you find utterly endearing.

"You have no idea," you reply. "Do you want to go to my room?"

He nods, and you eagerly guide Bucky by the hand, down the hall and to your room. As soon as you're inside the doorway, Bucky spins you around and attaches his lips to yours again. His movements are strong and sure. You love how small you felt when his hands are all over you, roaming your body, encapsulating you.

You briefly break the kiss to pull Bucky down onto your bed. You come down on your back as he moves on top of you. He's careful not to let his full weight bear down, supporting himself on his forearms. You tangle your fingers in his hair, wanting more of him. You let out a soft gasp of pleasure as he starts to pepper kisses on your jaw and neck. His lips, along with the light roughness of his facial hair, sends goosebumps along your sensitive skin.

You feel yourself getting more and more turned on with every touch of Bucky's mouth on you. You feel his metal hand move down further on your waist, gripping your hip. You let out a moan at the sudden touch.

Without warning, Bucky detaches himself from your neck and props himself up to look directly at you. There's hints of distress on his face, and you immediately worry that something is off.

"Sorry, Y/N," he says, shaking his head a little. "I'm just... Am I doing alright?"

You look at him, taking in his deep blue eyes. His brow is furrowed and there's a genuine quality of worry across his forehead.

"You don't have to be nervous," you reply sweetly, caressing his cheek in your palm. "Is there something wrong?"

He lets out the breath he's been holding and moves off of you, over onto his side. You turn to face him, laying your head down on the pillow.

"No, nothing's wrong," Bucky says quietly, eyes avoiding yours. "I guess I'm just nervous."

"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry," you stammer out. "I'm sorry if I was making you feel pressured-"

"No, no, you're fine," Bucky quickly assures you. "I want this. I just haven't done anything like this in... a really long time. Since before everything."

You sigh with relief. You didn't care at all that he was out of practice. You felt a pang of sadness at his insecurity.

"It's totally OK. I just don't want you to do something if you don't want to.

"Oh, trust me, I do want this," he says, attempting a feeble chuckle. "Honestly, I just don't want to disappoint you. What if I can't... you know. Make you feel good?"

His eyes finally meet yours, and for the first time, you see Bucky's true vulnerability. Behind his steely sureness and quiet persona, this was the real Bucky. Afraid of doing the wrong thing. Craving affection, but scared he might not deserve it. You wish you could wrap your arms around him melt it all away. You wish you could wipe away every memory of HYDRA from his head. Every seed of doubt and worthlessness they planted in him. Every barked order and every punishment. Every year of his life -- of his humanity -- they stole.

You lean in and plant a firm kiss to his lips. He kisses you back, hand coming up to hold your face.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you announce to him, enunciating each syllable. You grin, holding his face close to yours. "I. Don't. Care. I want you."

His wide eyes meet yours one more time. Then suddenly, as if realizing the weight of your words, he lunges in to kiss you with even more hunger than before. There's a newly reckless abandon to his movements, and you return the energy in your own touches. He positions himself back on top of you and you wrap your legs around him, pulling his muscular body in closer. It doesn't take long for him to test the waters, starting to grind his hips ever so gently down into you. You moan in encouragement, and he rolls his hips down harder. You can feel Bucky's erection through his jeans, straining against the fabric. You groan at the sensation.

You let your hands snake down to the hem of his shirt. You gently tug it upwards, and Bucky sits up on his knees to pull it over his head. You bite your lip, nearly drooling at the sight of his bare chest and abs. You'd seen him shirtless countless times in training, but something about this angle -- him hovering above you, body on top of yours -- made your pussy throb.

You swiftly remove your own shirt, rising up to kneel in front of him. You shift your positioning to be on top now. You straddle the super soldier, feeling the full extent of his erection under you. Bucky lets out a deep groan at the pleasure before reaching up and around you to unclasp your bra. Your mouth roams his neck as he fumbles with the mechanism. You remain patient, smiling to yourself at his efforts.

"Shit. Help," Bucky finally says with a defeated laugh.

You giggle, reaching back to undo the clasp. You let your bra slide off your arms and discard it on the floor. Bucky's eyes are glued to your breasts. A moment later, his hands are on them, playing with them gently. The feeling of his cool vibranium hand sends shivers down your spine as he begins to play with your nipple. You resume your slow grinding against his erection, relishing in the sensations.

After a minute or two, Bucky's hands suddenly shoot to your waist, holding you still. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slightly ajar.

"You better stop that," he manages to say, stifling a chuckle. "Gonna make me come in my pants like a high schooler."

"You mean, like... this?" you tease, bucking your hips one more time.

He lets out a guttural moan, tightening his grip on your hips like a vice. You can't help but find his sensitivity a huge turn-on.

"Y/N! It's not nice to bully a man for not having sex for 70 years," Bucky jokes, eyes still closed trying to steady himself.

You giggle, moving off of him. Kneeling next to his torso, you start to toy with the waistline of his jeans. He moans softly in encouragement, and you start to unbuckle them, slowly releasing the zipper. You pull down Bucky's jeans so he can kick them off fully, letting them join the other abandoned clothes on the floor. You remove his boxers as well, and his erection springs free.

Oh. My. God.

Bucky is huge. You can't help but stare at his length. His cock is long, thick, and has a slight upward curve to it. You have enough experience to know the ecstasy his cock could cause. You involuntarily bite you lower lip, anticipating having it inside of you. A large drop of precum is starting to drip from the tip, leaving a trail of glistening moisture.

You position yourself to kneel between his legs. Bucky, his pupils blown dark with arousal, watches you with an intense gaze as you lower your face to his cock. He smells cleans yet musty, a scent that leaves you feeling intoxicated. You start lick a thick strip up his cock, from the base all the way to the tip. You catch the drop of precum on your tongue, moaning at the taste. Bucky throws his head back into the pillow, a loud growl escaping from his throat. You continue to lick and suck him, taking him more and more into your mouth. His cock is massive, so you have to use your hand to stroke the base.

Bucky desperately tangles his hands in your hair, moaning uncontrollably. You feel his thighs starts to tense and squeeze as his breathing increases pace. Having the Winter Soldier coming apart beneath you is heaven. The image of him panting and moaning like an animal is almost as much pleasure for you as it is for him.

Then, without warning, he stops you again. He holds a handful of your hair tightly in his metal hand, forcing you to still.

"Holy, shit," he breathes through moans. "I'm so close. You have to stop or I'm gon' come."

You slowly remove your mouth from his cock, wiping the spit and precum from your lips. He watches intently as you strip off your pants and underwear. Your pussy is drenched with arousal by now, and the air or your bedroom feels cool against your wetness. You lay down on your back.

"You on top. You control the speed," you tell him.

Bucky doesn't hesitate to climb on top of you, positioning himself between your legs. He gnaws at his lip, taking in the sight of you, fully naked beneath him. Your pussy throbs with want. Bucky begins rubbing the head of his cock against the slick of your opening. He nearly whimpers at the feeling.

"Can I?" he whispers.

"I want you," you tell him softly, gripping onto his strong shoulders.

With that, he slowly starts to push into your pussy. You both moan with ecstasy as he sinks deeper and deeper. His huge size stretches you walls, but you're so aroused that there's barely any burn. You need him.

He pauses once he's fully buried inside you, collecting himself. Once he's ready, he slowly starts thrusting into and out of you. You feel him grip the sheets tightly in his fists, and he leans down to kiss you eagerly. He only goes in and out about half way, always keeping a portion of his length sheathed in you. The sensation is mind-blowing. You groan at the way his public mount rubs against your clit with every downstroke. You moan loudly, letting yourself give into every ounce of pleasure.

It doesn't take long before you start to feel Bucky's thigh muscles tense again. His trusts become more erratic and his moans get louder. Soon, he's a panting mess on top of you, releasing primal groans with every thrust.

"Bucky, sweetheart, just like that," you say through your moans. "Come for me. I want you to feel so good."

All he can manage to reply with is your name, which he growls over and over. He locks his lips to yours, and suddenly, you feel his cock convulsing inside of you. He nearly screams with pleasure, emptying his cum inside of you.

You gently stroke his hair as he thrusts a few more times, riding out the full ecstasy of his orgasm. After a few moments, he gently pulls out of your dripping pussy, collapsing on his back beside you.

He only stays there for a moment though. Before you can say anything, Bucky jumps out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. He swiftly returns with a warm, damp towel. He hands it to you, let you clean yourself up. You can help but smile at his attentiveness. After you're both washed up, he rejoins you in the bed.

Laying on your sides, you share a deep moment of connection, gazing into one another's eyes. Bucky's blue irises look different. Normally, they're storms -- twin cyclones of intensity. But right now, they're more akin to tide pools, teeming with life just below the surface. You reach out and grab his flesh hand. He closes his fingers around you. The two of you had been laying in perfect, comfortable silence when Bucky finally speaks aloud.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"For what?" you ask, not breaking his gaze.

He suddenly looks bashful. He closes his eyes, and you can see a hint of blush appearing on his cheeks.

"For a lot of things. For not being afraid of me. For being gentle with me. For taking me as I am."

Your heart feels like it might jump out of your chest. A smile spreads across your face and you squeeze Bucky's hand a bit tighter.

And just like that: you know you've fallen for the Winter Soldier.

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

THE AVENGERS//LOKI Episode 4

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Writings Masterlist

I’ll be adding all the titles here so they can be found in one place!

(*) indicates smut. Minors, do not interact, please!

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Ghosts

Feel Again *

Pretending for the Night

Tony Stark x Reader

Just Once *

Just Once - Part 2 *

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Just Once

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!reader

Summary: It’s been nearly two years since Thanos destroyed half of life in the universe. Since then, you’ve been alone and depressed. Tony’s marriage has been in the gutter for years now. When Tony comes to visit his old friend, you decide that just one time -- in the name of staving off loneliness -- can’t hurt. Is it wrong to not want to be alone?

(Takes place after Infinity War, before the time heist in Endgame.)

Warning: SMUT, dirty talk, slight dom!tony, fluff/angst, dub cheating(?) technically, friends with benefits, oral (female reader receiving) soft!tony

[Basically this is a super fluffy, a little sad, friends to lovers type story. Lots of soft!tony, emotion, and smut.]

Word Count: 4.4k. [long, sorry. had sooo many thoughts writing this]

[Also Part 2 is now here!]

------

As soon as you shut the door to your apartment, you take off your raincoat and shake off the moisture. Tony does the same.

“Well, I guess you’re really getting the full Seattle experience,” you remark with a grunt, sweeping the rain-drenched pieces of hair out of your eyes. 

Tony scoffs playfully. “You couldn’t have gotten an apartment with a connected parking garage?” He hangs up his jacket next to yours. “And I’ve been to Seattle before. I don’t need an experience.”

“Wow. You’re welcome for picking you up from the airport, by the way,” you say, rolling your eyes at him sarcastically. Despite his words, you knew that Tony was happy to see you. It’s been nearly two years since Thanos, and the past 700 days weren’t easy. They were filled with grief, anger, regret, and most of all, loneliness. The Avengers had effectively broken up -- Steve and Natasha were still in New York, holding onto some hope of undoing the past. The rest of the team were dealing with their grief in other ways: Bruce was off somewhere holed away with his work, Thor was in New Asgard, and Clint had completely fallen off the radar. Tony had moved him and Pepper to a beautiful cabin property in Georgia. You had thought that Georgia wasn’t really Tony’s style, but perhaps he was just taking a page out of Clint’s book.

You had relocated to Seattle, where you took up a part-time lecturer position at a university. Honestly, you didn’t much care for the job, but it was something to fill the time and keep your mind from laying idle. You kept busy enough to avoid it most of the time, but you were deeply depressed. Although you initially tried, you didn’t keep in touch much with your former teammates. However, your line of communication with Tony stayed strong. You were always similar personalities back at the Avengers facility, and you were close friends. Something else you liked is that Tony rarely brought up Thanos or the past. With the others, every conversation felt like a minefield. You didn’t like to linger on the past. It hurt too damn much, and there’s nothing you can do to bring everyone back. You wish there was.

You had visited Tony’s cabin a handful of times in the past two years, but this was his first time coming to pay you a visit. After you were changed out of your wet clothes and settled in, it was nearly 8 p.m. You pour two generous glasses of whiskey for you and Tony, both of you sinking into the couch. Tony doesn’t drink often, but seeing an old friend -- perhaps, his best friend -- was a special occasion.

The apartment may be small, but it felt spacious. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows and an airy loft are the highlights of the apartment. It’s not cheap, but you had the money, and you loved the feel of the space. The rainstorm outside sends pattering water drops against the large windows. A low growl of thunder rumbles in the distance.

Tony had changed into a thin dark red cotton long-sleeve. He takes a long sip of his drink before turning to you.

“Nice place. Very Scandinavian-chic.”

“Not too quaint for Tony Stark’s taste?”

He laughs. “Almost. But the high ceilings elevate the place. No pun intended.”

There was always something comfortable about you and Tony. Maybe, it was your shared gravitation towards sarcasm. Or, it was just that the two of you had known each other for so long.

The two of you talk about how you like Seattle, then about the latest publication of Technology & Life Journal. The conversation touches on the oppressive humidity of Georgia, then Tony’s opinion on intermittent fasting. Eventually, as the night comes into its full darkness, the subject drifts to more personal matters.

“And there’s nothing... nothing... Pepper hates more than the sound of my chewing,” Tony explains, waving his hands for emphasis. 

You scrunch your nose and chuckle. Both of the whiskey glasses are empty now.

“So, the situation over there hasn’t gotten much better?” you ask with a sympathetic expression.

Tony and Pepper’s marriage has been on the rocks for years. You remember the first time Tony had told you that he and Pepper were taking a break. That was right before Sokovia.

“Oh, god, Y/N,” Tony replies. “So much worse. We barely even talk anymore. I can’t stand her, and she can’t stand me. We’re just kind of like roommates, barely tolerating each other, anxiously waiting for our lease to be up so we can move to opposite sides of the globe. Except, who knows when the lease will be up.”

“Why haven’t you gotten a divorce?”

“What’s the point? She can leave whenever she pleases. If the sound of my chewing is really as ear-grating as she claims,” Tony remarks with an intense eye roll. He gazes out the large window to the right of the couch. His reflection in the darkened glass stares back at him. “And I don’t want to file first because of that horrendous pre-nup situation.”

“I still can’t believe you agreed to that.”

“Me neither. But I was crazy about Pep when I first met her.”

You feel a pang of sadness for your friend. You know just how debilitating loneliness can be. But loneliness is a million times worse when someone you used to feel so happy with is still right there. Out of reach. Together but alone.

“So, you’ve been investing in a lot of sex toys lately, I presume?” you tease with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. 

Tony lets out of a hearty laugh at that. The two of you were never bashful when it came to topics of “natural concern.”

“Actually, yes,” he replies with a toothy smile. “I haven’t had sex in literal ages. It’s a sad, sad existence.”

“You and me both, pal,” you say, reaching to pour another glass for you and your friend. “I’m convinced every single person my age is a lousy lay. I’ve decided that hookups are a titanic waste of time and energy.”

“What makes someone a lousy lay?” Tony asks, curiosity etching a peak into one of his inquisitive eyebrows. “In Y/N’s expert opinion, of course.”

“Selfishness, overconfidence, acting like it’s a race to the finish line... I could go on and on.”

“That’s just inexperience. Sorry about the bad sheet-tumbles though, truly,” he replies in his usually snarky tone. “I could make you a cybernetic dildo, if you want?”

You both burst out with laughter. God, you missed your friend.

You just barely catch it, but suddenly something changes in Tony’s eyes. His cheeky smile shifts just enough to give an impression of seriousness.

“Or,” he starts, not meeting your eyes. “We could just fuck.”

You pause. Glancing over at him, he has his eyes locked on his drink.

“You wish,” you retort with a chuckle. He must be kidding.

When Tony speaks again, his voice is just quiet enough to give it an unusual quality. A quality that sends a shiver up your spine.

“I’m actually, sort of, maybe, kinda serious.” He finally raises his gaze to meet yours. “Why not?”

The little cock of his head on Why not? gives his words a lightness -- you’re almost fooled that Tony didn’t just suggest what he did. What was he thinking?

“Well, for starters,” you begin. Your tone is serious now. “You’re married. Your wife might be more of a roommate than a wife -- in your words -- but she’s still your wife. And besides that, you’re my friend. It would be weird.”

Tony seems to consider your words for a moment, mulling it over in his head. He swirls his drink a few times. You catch an almost imperceptible blush on your friend’s face, and for a second, you feel sorry for turning him down.

“It’s not like we would rent billboard space and announce it to the world afterwards,” he begins, a little quieter than usual. You’re certain now that he’s dead serious. “It’s just... we’re both lonely, aren’t we?”

He holds your eyes. He was right. You were desperately lonely. Skin-on-skin affection, real affection (even if the motives behind it are dubious) would be heaven right now. You can’t help but let you eyes trail down to Tony’s chest, so broad and adorned with that familiar glowing emblem. Your gaze continues down his biceps... his exposed forearms... his long, delicate fingers, so nervously clutching the whiskey glass.

When you snap your gaze back to his, he’s still looking at you, intently. He seems to be searching your face for any indication of how you’re feeling. Any indication that he didn’t just make a fool of himself, or worse, damage your shared friendship.

Finally, you speak.

“Just once.”

As soon as your words break through the silence, you see relief wash over Tony’s face. His typical snarky expression is suddenly back.

“Just once as in one time? Or one night?” he jests, setting his glass down on the side table. “Because I happen to be a man of stamina.”

There’s the Tony you’re familiar with. A smile spreads across your face, too. What the hell did you just get yourself into? Is this really happening? You half-expected Tony to burst into giggles, telling you this was all a joke.

“Are you ever not cocky? I could’ve sworn I just told you that I find overconfidence a-”

Before you can finish your retort, a pair of warm lips are pressing into yours. You forget to breathe for a moment as your heart jumps into your throat. You hadn’t even noticed Tony move from his spot on the couch. He was now standing over you, one knee on the cushion beside you. One hand on the back of the furniture, and the other on your cheek, guiding your jaw towards him. His kiss is firm, but confident. Unrushed. Intentional. 

When Tony pulls away after a few seconds, his eyes are scouring your face for a reaction. You can see the slightest glisten of wetness on his lower lip, and suddenly, you feel a rush of primal warmth through your body. You want him.

You languidly take one more sip from your glass before setting the amber-drink down on the table. Tony watches your slow movements like an animal.

Then, the coil breaks loose. Your hands come up to his face pulling him back down. Your lips crash together, hungry with desire. His grip on your jaw is firm as his mouth moves in expertly minuscule motions. What am I doing? I can’t believe this is happening. Thoughts course through your mind at light speed as you grab at Tony’s hair, tangling your fingers in his soft brunette locks.

He lowers himself further over you, guiding you to lay back on the couch. The slight roughness of his beard drives you wild. His kisses are hungry yet controlled: a lethal combination that shows how experienced he is. He catches your bottom lip lightly between his teeth. When he parts his lips, you take the opportunity to snake your tongue forward. A low groan erupts from Tony, sending wetness to your core. He’s on top of you, between your legs now, still being careful not to put his full weight down. 

Without warning he pulls back, his face lingering inches from yours. You look at him with concern, one hand holding his cheek. His beautiful brown eyes are dark with lust, yet tinged with an unexpected innocence.

“Is this wrong?” he whispers to you.

You think for a moment before replying.

“It is wrong to not want to be alone?”

With that, your fate was sealed. Tony’s lips return to yours, mouth dancing with a burning desire. You can feel yourself getting more turned on by the second with his experienced movements. The way he caresses your neck, face, and arms with such deliberation. You wrap one leg around his back, drawing his hips in to press against you. You both let out a soft moan at the contact. 

“You know,” you say between kisses. “I haven’t shown you my bedroom yet.”

“Show me now.”

You both rise from the couch, and you eagerly pull him towards your bedroom by the hand. As soon as you’re through the doorway, Tony’s back on you. He swiftly presses you against the wall, holding you there with his hips. His hands are gripping your jaw as his kisses continue to send shockwaves of desire through your body. Your fingertips trail from his shoulders to his chest, further and further down until you reach the hem of his shirt. You tug softly, and Tony briefly releases your mouth to pull his shirt over his head. 

The sight of his bare chest is stunning. Tony’s lean yet muscular figure was just what you liked. You had never been into the extreme body-builder look so many girls lusted after.

You remove your shirt, too, and Tony moans at the sight. You start walking him backwards towards the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress when you reach the edge. You straddle him, leaning down to kiss him more. Something about his lips is absolutely intoxicating. You test the waters by lightly rolling your hips on his. You’re nearly surprised by the loud gasp that escapes Tony’s lips. His eyes flutter closed as he pressed his head back into the pillow. You can feel his erection under you, strong and straining against his jeans.

“I never took you for a screamer,” you tease, moving to plant sloppy kisses on his jaw and neck. He laughs under you.

“Oh, trust me. This is nothing compared to how you’ll be moaning soon.”

You nearly growl at his words, the wetness in your panties continuing to grow. You feel Tony’s hands reach around your back to effortlessly unclasp your bra. You sit up for a moment to discard the piece of clothing on the floor.

“Fuck,” Tony says quietly, taking in your bare top. “You are stunning.”

In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back. Tony is on top of you now, caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head. He starts grinding his hips down into your clothed core, making you gasp raggedly. He starts to work his mouth down your neck, stopping to kiss and lightly bite at the sensitive skin. He’s careful not to kiss so rough as to leave a mark. After all, you don’t belong to him.

Moving further down, his mouth closes over your right nipple, making you moan and arch your back. A hand comes up to caress your other breast. He alternates back and forth between them, keeping his movements relaxed. You loved how he was taking his time. He wasn’t in any rush, and god, did he know what he was doing.

Your hands tangle in his hair, relishing the feel of his tongue, lips and fingers on your breasts. After a few minutes, Tony continues to travel downward. When he gets to the waist of your pants, he stops to look up at you.

“Y/N,” he says. His dark brown eyes blown out with lust. “Can I take these off?”

You nod eagerly, feeling weak and warm at his asking for permission -- even as he already had you a moaning mess under him. Yep, consent is sexy.

He swiftly pulls your pants down your legs, tossing them onto the floor behind him. You watch, biting your lip gently, as Tony hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. He slowly removes those as well, eyes locked on you. Seeing Tony kneeling above you, looking down hungrily was enough to make you groan with anticipation.

Tony lowers himself, head coming closer to your core. He uses his hands to gentle coax your legs apart. He starts kissing at the inside of your knee, trailing closer and closer to your pussy. His facial hair scrapes against your sensitive skin. By the time he gets to your core, you can’t wait another second for him to pleasure you. You feel his breath on your glistening pussy lips, and a moment later, Tony starts licking a thick stripe with his tongue. You cry out in pleasure.

His tongue travels from the base of your opening, all the way up to your clit. He does this a few more times, going slow, hands gripping into the side of your hips. Then, he latches onto your clit, expertly moving the bud between his tongue and lips. You had never felt this kind of ecstasy from oral before. Tony seemed to know just how to touch you. You shut your eyes tight, seeing stars form behind your eyelids. You clutch the sheets, trying to ground yourself.

“You like that?” Tony moans against you.

“Fuck,” you manage to say. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. Shit, you are really fucking good at this.”

You hear Tony chuckle at the intensity of your pleasure before continuing to work you with his mouth. You feel one hand release your hip, and a few seconds later, a warm finger nudges at your entrance. You groan as Tony slowly slides one finger into you, starting to move against your silken walls. He lifts his head from your clit to lock eyes with you. He watches you intensely, as if studying your face. The sight of his juice-soaked lips makes your head fuzzy. He looks utterly turned on.

Suddenly, his finger hits that sensitive rough spot on your upper wall. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you let out a feral cry of pleasure. 

“Ah, there it is,” Tony says with a grin.

That tone of smug accomplishment normally made you want to sock him on the shoulder, but right now, you didn’t care. This man was a god in bed.

Tony inserts another finger and continues to work your g-spot. The pleasure you feel has you writhing under him. The warmth in your core grows rapidly, and before you know it, you’re moments away from your release.

“Tony, shit! I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

He continues to eat you out, fingering you in just the right place. You can see his hips starting to buck down into the bed, turned on by your own ecstasy. Suddenly, you come, convulsing around his fingers and moaning his name. Your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest. You slowly come down, Tony continuing to gently coax out the last pulses of your powerful orgasm.

Once he satisfied that your orgasm has faded, Tony rises up to his knees, wiping his mouth with his fingertips. The sight makes you salivate. You waste no time jumping up yourself to meet him, reaching down to undo his pants. He kisses you fiercely as you both work to fully remove his jeans. Despite the solid deliberation of his movements, there’s a sense of desperation as well. You’re both panting like animals, needing more. Needing this.

As Tony removes his boxers, his cock springs free, rock-hard and engorged. You can’t help but stare. He’s well-endowed, and just anticipating his dick sinking into you is enough to make you bite your lip and groan. You reach down to start stroking him in your hands. This elicits a deep moan from Tony, who throws his head back at the sensation.

“Lay down,” you whisper. “I want to suck you.”

To your surprise, Tony pushes you back down onto your back. He comes down over you, immediately attacking your neck with his mouth.

“You can blow me on round two, sweetheart. Right now, I just need to fuck you,” he commands. His voice has transformed to have a darker edge now. There’s a primal quality that makes your pussy throb.

You reach over and open one of the small drawers of your bedside table. You quickly retrieve a condom, which Tony takes from your hands. He sheathes himself with desperate speed, keeping his intense gaze on your face.

He lowers himself back over you, and a moment later, you feel his cock beginning to prod at your entrance. He kisses you hard, moaning into your lips as he slowly begins to sink into you. God, he feels so good. The way he stretches your walls is perfection. You clench your eyes tight and can’t help but claw at the flesh of his back. He hisses in pleasure at the sensation.

Once he’s buried to the shaft, he begins to expertly stir his hips in a circular motion. You cry out. Holy shit. This was a new level of ecstasy. With every rotation, his public mount presses and rubs your clit. Most men you’d been with just defaulted to jackhammering in and out, chasing their own high as fast as possible. Tony’s movements were calculated and obviously geared towards your pleasure. This was definitely the best sex you’ve ever had, and it wasn’t even over yet. Your moans fill the room.

“Y/N. God. You feel so fucking good,” Tony growls softly into your ear. “Wrapped around my cock like this. Letting me take you.”

His words -- so nasty and so erotic -- drive you crazy. You start to feel that familiar rising warmth in your stomach again. Tony continues to grind on you as he takes your earlobe into his mouth, gently nibbling with his teeth. You can feel how much restraint he has in keeping his motions intentional. He’s a like a bull, ready to burst from the pen at any moment, but he’s holding back in order to give you as much pleasure as possible.

“Just like that, Tony,” you whimper. “Keep going. I’m going to come again.”

And right on cue, it only takes a minute or so more for you to unravel. Waves of intense pleasure ripple through your body, rocking you from the inside out. Tony’s name spills from your lips in an unholy chant as you orgasm. You dig your nail into his shoulders, unable to do anything but let your orgasm pass through you. It’s heaven.

You’re still experiencing the last convulsions of your high when Tony swiftly flips you over onto your stomach. You feel rough hands on your hips as he repositions himself at your pussy. You scream in pleasure as Tony’s cock rams back into you in one long motion. One of his arms comes down beside your head to steady himself while the other stays on your hip, pulling you back with each thrust. The sounds coming from Tony’s mouth behind you are pornographic. The grunts, moans, and growls come in a cascade along with explicit swears and peppers of your name.

He’s rough. He’s finally letting himself take the pleasure he so desperately needs. And you let him. You want to let him feel good. And, shit, does it feel good for you, too.

Laying down flatter so that his chest touches your back, Tony snakes an arm under you. Still fucking you forcefully from the back, he starts to draw circles on your clit, rubbing you into ecstasy. Even as he takes his own pleasure, Tony is still thinking about you.

It doesn’t take long before Tony’s thrusts start to become sloppy. You can feel the sheer primal need behind every stroke.

“Y/N, sweetheart. Oh, god,” he moans behind you. This is followed by a string of curses and growls.

Suddenly, along with an animalistic moan, you feel his cock pulsing inside of you. He’s holding your hip with a death grip, eyes clamped shut. After a few more half-thrusts, he slowly pulls his cock out of you. Tony collapses beside you, chest rapidly rising and falling as his breath returns to baseline. You roll onto your back, equally feeling the indescribable glow radiating throughout your body.

It must have only been a few minutes of silence, but it feels as it time stands still. It’s just the two of you, laying there in the mess of sheets. The only sounds filling the room are your heavy breaths and the soft pattering of the rain on the window. Finally, it’s you that breaks the silence.

“That was... Really. Really. Fucking good.”

You’re almost in disbelief that this just happened. You and Tony Stark, your closest friend, just fucked each other’s brains out. And it was amazing.

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” Tony replies with his signature chuckle. His eyes are still fluttered closed. “And you were totally louder than me. No competition.”

A smile spreads across your lips. You reach over and punch him playfully in the arm. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe this didn’t change anything. Maybe this was OK. You so wanted this to be OK.

“Not true. You sounded like a porn star. Everyone probably heard you,” you joke back. “But I will say: that thing you did with your tongue. Jesus. Good job, dude. Kudos.”

He laughs heartily, and you follow suit.

“I’ll do it again for you right now,” he says cheekily. 

He opens his eyes to flash you a devious glance. The corner of his mouth curves into a mischievous smile as he starts to snake his hand down towards your pussy. You chuckle and slap him away playfully, feigning mock offense.

“Dream on, playboy,” you retort, grinning from ear to ear. “We agreed, just once.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, we didn’t settle on the specifics of that verbiage.”

In that moment, Tony’s eyes say a million words. There’s so much teeming below those deep brown irises, and you see it all. Mischief, desire, intensity. But also softness, longing, affection... love? You don’t dwell on the thought, but you do allow yourself to fall into his pretty gaze.

“Then, I guess we can just do what feels right. And then sort it out in the morning?”

“Oh, I love it when you live in the moment, Y/N,” Tony announces with a smirk. “Irresponsibility always has a place, in my humble opinion.”

You giggle, and he seizes the opportunity to crawl back on top of you. He starts to tease you again, breathing soft kisses onto your neck and collarbone. Tony Stark. Dangerously charming, as always. You let your eyes close, letting the sensations bury you.

Just one night, you tell yourself. Is it wrong to not want to be alone?

——

[Part 2 here!]

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

The Marvel Cinematic Universe throughout the years

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Ghosts

Pairing: Bucky x reader 

(Before-established relationship)

Summary: Bucky may be rehabilitated, but he’s still plagued by nightmares, reminding him of his time as the Winter Soldier. The walls in the Avengers Facility are thin, and one night, you hear him calling out in his sleep. You decide to take a chance and decide to knock on your teammates door.

Warnings: fluff/angst, accidental brief choking (in Bucky’s sleep), mentions of canon-level violence, language, soft!bucky, PTSD nightmares, hurt/comfort

To be afraid of a person is one thing. In a lot of ways, that type of fear is easy -- you can fight, run, or both. You can hide in the shadows or sharpen your knives. Either way, you know what you’re up against. You can see it. You can touch it.

But to be haunted by the past, by something that’s just a memory, is another beast entirely. And nobody understands what it’s like to have ghosts better than Bucky.

It’s 2am. You quietly shuffle your way down the Avengers Facility West Staircase, making your way to the kitchen. You were typically an insomniac to some degree, but the team had just wrapped up a routine search and rescue mission that day. The combination of residual adrenaline and jet-lag meant that sleep was likely not in the cards tonight.

After scouring the pantry for a midnight snack and subsequently settling on a protein bar with a defeated sigh, you start heading back upstairs. You pass by your teammates doors, trying to step as quietly as possible. Despite your own wakefulness, the rest of the team appears to have had no trouble passing out. There was a certain peacefulness to the Avengers Facility when everyone was asleep, and it was just you and your thoughts.

You pass by Wanda’s room, then Steve’s, then Tony’s... Your quarters was at the very end of the hall. Cozy, corned, and nestled away. 

You’re just about to turn the handle of your door when you suddenly hear a sharp groan. You freeze, straining to detect where the noise came from. The gasp is followed by a louder cry, amplified by the darkness of the hallway. The noise sounds choked, in pain. This time, you know for sure that the sound is coming from Bucky’s room, which is directly to the left of yours.

Bucky has been plagued with nightmares ever since you met him. You’ve been with the team for years now, so you saw it all. Bucky’s mind-controlled HYDRA trance. His amnesia. His efforts to unprogram himself and remember his past -- and his eventual success. Well, partially. Although Bucky was able to break free from HYDRA’s control, the Winter Soldier was still a part of him, living in his subconscious like a parasite. 

You knew that Bucky would never admit just how deeply that parasite was buried, but you could tell. Having the room right next to his, it wasn’t uncommon to overhear his nocturnal terrors taking hold. Every time a mew of pain and fear broke through the nighttime silence, you wanted nothing more than to burst through his door and shake him awake.

You and Bucky aren’t the closest, but then again Bucky isn’t truly close with anyone but Steve. He’s a private guy. Keeps the emotional-side to himself. However, you cared for him, and it was obvious he had a soft spot for you, too.

Suddenly, a third, louder, cry shudders through the dark. “Stop it! No!” you hear Bucky say in his sleep. This is followed by a succession of soft cries and gasps.

With that, you know you have to check on him. You need to. You quietly rap two quick knocks on his door. No response. The soft cries continue. You knock again, rocking on your toes anxiously.

“Hey, Bucky,” you quietly call from outside of the door. “It’s Y/N. Are you alright?”

When Bucky still is not awoken, you decide to take a chance. The cries echoing from inside the room are heartbreaking, and some tugging, deep inside your ribs, takes control of you.

You try the door handle, and to your surprise, it’s not locked. Silently, you step inside. Bucky’s room is dark, but the cool glow of the full moon beams in from the curtainless window. You’ve only seen Bucky’s room a few times, when you can popped your head in to tell him one thing or another, but this was your first time actually inside. The walls were barren. Everything was neat -- nothing out of place. First, your eyes trail to the bed. However, it’s empty, the sheets made and the pillows fluffed. Following the sound of the whimpering, your gaze then falls to the spot on the floor under the window. Bucky. He’s curled up in makeshift sleeping arrangements -- just a few blankets and pillows on the ground. Steve had told you once before that soldiers coming home from war often find beds too soft, and instead prefer the hard floor. Something about that sparked a pang of sadness in you.

You shut the door and quietly tip-toe your way over to Bucky’s place on the floor. His body is shaking, chest lightly bouncing with his cries. You kneel beside him and gently place a hand on his bare shoulder.

“Bucky, hey. Wake up. It’s just a dream,” you whisper quietly. 

Almost immediately, Bucky shoots up, waking with a startled yell. You gasp as a metal hand closes around your throat. A million thoughts are racing through your mind, but no words come out. You’re too shocked to make a peep. You just look at him with wide, fearful eyes.

A millisecond later, Bucky’s gaze meets yours, and his bewildered look of aggression immediately shifts to horror. He takes his hand away, as if he’d been burned.

“Holy, fuck. Y/N, oh my god, I am so sorry. Holy, shit. I thought you were...” he stammers, looking at you with intense concern. He sits up straighter, gathering himself and pushing the dark hair out of his eyes.

Your own hands come up to rub your throat. Bucky hadn't gripped you hard, but his sudden violence was frightening. The sheer power he possessed, always tightly coiled in his body, was a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m totally fine. It’s fine,” you say reassuring him. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“No. Shit. I’m sorry.”

He ran his flesh palm over his face, obviously trying to hide from what just happened.

“Hey, shhh,” you say softly, leaning in to look past the hard covering his face. “I just heard you from outside, and I knew you were having a nightmare, and I just... I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you were OK.”

When those words leave your lips, something changes in Bucky’s expression. He drops his hand from his face and looks up at you in wonder.

“You wanted to make sure I was OK?” the soldier asks softly. “I- Wow. Thank you.”

Bucky had a habit of doing that. Thanking people for just being decent humans. For showing him any ounce of care. It made you sad. Bucky had endured nearly seven decades of horror, roughness, and pain. HYDRA treated him like a pet guard dog all those years, bending him to their will, handling him like a toy. So, now, any kindness felt momentous to Bucky.

You smile gently at him. You start to rise from your kneeling position to leave when you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Wait,” Bucky says. You look at him with confusion. “Will you stay?”

You don’t know what to say. You part your lips to reply, but nothing comes out. Bucky never showed emotion like this, never opened up his vulnerabilities for others to see. He rarely permitted friendly physical contact, and he never admitted fear. But looking at him now, you can see the scared little boy in his eyes.

Without another word, you lower yourself down next to him. Bucky moves over to give you more room and pillow space, welcoming you into his bubble. You settle in next to him, laying on your side to face him. Bucky lies on his back, dark eyes intently fixed on the ceiling. You observe the profile of his face, the locks of hair falling down beside him on the pillow. You observe the curve of his bare chest. He’s still wearing his dog tags, which lay between his pectoral muscles, gently rising and falling with his breath. Your gaze moves to his left shoulder, where flesh meets metal in a ragged line. The vibranium arm, reflecting the luminance of the moonlight. He truly is beautiful. Simultaneously immovable and delicate. Bucky. The enigma.

“I’m sorry I did that,“ Bucky finally says, shattering the silence. 

“It’s really alright. You didn’t hurt me.”

He’s still looking straight up at the ceiling, but he can see his expression. He looks sad. There’s also a hint of embarrassment on his face -- perhaps from his asking you to stay. You truly didn’t mind staying. You’re just surprised by his uncharacteristic request.

“My nightmares get worse when it’s cold out, I think. In my dream, I was on one of the HYDRA missions,” he starts. Bucky lets out a big exhale before continuing. “I was in this hotel -- I think it was in Oslo or something -- and I couldn’t control any of my limbs. I was just slashing and running and shooting... It was like watching a movie where you can’t control what’s happening, but you see it all. There was so much blood,”

Your heart aches at his words. Before you can stop yourself, you reach over and gently caress his cheek with your fingertips. Your heart is thumping out of your chest. Why am I doing this? Before you can pull you hand back, you feel Bucky’s warm flesh hand come up to cover yours. His dark eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. His fingers gently intertwine and toy with your skin. His eyes flutter closed for just a moment, as if he is relishing the sensation of your flesh on his. 

You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. This rock of a man -- the Winter Soldier -- is melting into your touch. Letting you lay in his bed. Allowing you in. It’s a privilege. You didn’t have a crush on Bucky, at least not that you had admitted to yourself. But, right now, you damn wanted to hold him forever.

When Bucky’s eyes flutter back open, his brown irises meet yours with a new intensity. Your head feels fizzy and content, ever so slightly drunk on this moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Steve, Nat, me... our team would never let them touch you again.” As you speak, Bucky doesn’t let go your hand on his cheek. “And you don’t have to hold any guilt. That wasn’t you. This is you.”

Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more, but he doesn’t need to. Bucky suddenly moves to lay fully on his side, facing you. His arm comes across to pull your body closer in to himself. Your chest flutters. The two of you lay in that perfect silence, reveling in a mutual warmth under the blanket. You feel so safe, wrapped in Bucky’s strong arms, and you start to feel tired for the first time that night. As you drift off into calm sleep, a thought passes through your mind.

You could get used to this.

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Welcome to my blog :)

Hey, everyone! My name is Mal, and this is a safe space for me to post my writings (as the blog name suggests -- mostly Marvel fics).

I write mostly Bucky, Steve, Loki, and Tony, but that’s subject to change. ;)

Enjoy!