#It's moving towards Steve Rogers pairing

[danysdaughter]

Hold Your Breath

pairing | civil!war!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 6.6k words (whoopsie)

summary I After a panic attack triggers something raw and vulnerable in Bucky, a desperate kiss turns into a night of urgent, clothed intimacy where he clings to you for grounding, connection, and humanity.

tags | 18+, (MDNI!), p in v sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, emotional sex, desperate sex, riding, dry humping, titty sucking, begging, subby!bucky, soft!reader, angst, soft dom!reader, vulnerable!bucky, slow burn to sudden burn, hurt/comfort, PANIC ATTACK! platonic!steve x reader, oh and PLOT! but premises: Fuck His Pain Away

a/n | THIS MIGHT BE THE FILTHIEST THING IVE EVER WRITTEN. uh, Matt Murdock cameo. and Steve and reader lowkey act romantic but they're purely platonic. inspired by THE Stiles and Lydia. ENJOY!

likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ — ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2

divider by @cafekitsune

The warehouse looked like it had been forgotten by time. Rust flaked off corrugated walls, the windows long since caked in grime and dust. Faint light filtered in through the cracks in the ceiling, catching on floating particles like a snowstorm of ash.

You stepped through the open door slowly, your heeled boots echoing softly against the concrete floor. The weight of silence sat thick in the air—one broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional creak of aging steel. Sam stood off to the side, posted up by a boarded window, his eyes scanning the outside world like a hawk. Ironic.

He gave you a short nod in greeting, then jerked his chin toward the stairwell.

“He’s upstairs. With him.”

You nodded silently, then started climbing. Each step was slow, heavy with things unsaid. You reached the upper landing and paused at the threshold of a dim corridor, where you finally saw him.

Steve Rogers.

He was leaning against the doorframe to a room that looked like it had once been an office, now stripped bare. His arms were folded, his head slightly bowed, lost in thought. The sharp angles of his jaw were drawn tight, his eyes shadowed with more than fatigue.

He looked tired—drawn in a way you rarely saw. Shoulders too tight. Worry clinging to him like a second skin.

And yet the moment he looked up and saw you, something in his face unspooled.

“You came,” he said, voice low, thick.

You smiled softly, stepping closer. “Where else would I be?”

Steve gave a dry little exhale. “I don’t know. Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.”

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” you said.

He nodded once, but didn’t move from the door. The weight of the air between you stretched.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

You straightened, gaze steady. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. You don’t have to ask.”

“I do.” His jaw flexed, eyes flicking away. “Because I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. We’re stretched thin. And Bucky… he’s not in a good place.”

“I know,” you said, voice gentler now. “Steve, I know. I’m not scared of him.”

He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face, tension radiating from every inch of him. “I’m not either. That’s not it. It’s just—he’s been through so much. He barely speaks. Sometimes I think he’s back—my Bucky—but then I see that look in his eyes and I don’t even know who I’m looking at.”

You took a step forward, heart aching.

“You’re worried he’ll hurt someone.”

Steve didn’t answer right away. His mouth pressed into a tight line.

Then, almost too softly: “I’m worried he’ll hurt himself.”

That cracked something inside you. You reached out, fingers curling gently around his arm.

“Then I’ll be here,” you said, firm and calm. “I’ll sit with him through it. However long it takes.”

Steve looked at you, truly looked, and you could see it then—how much weight he was carrying. And how close he was to shattering under it.

“There’s more,” he said after a moment, voice even lower.

You nodded. “Tell me.”

He hesitated, like he didn’t know if he should. Then—quietly, brokenly—he said, “I don’t know what’s happening to us. The Avengers. The world. It used to feel like we were fighting for something good. Something that meant something. Now… it just feels like we’re tearing apart.”

You let his words hang in the air. Let him breathe. Then you stepped closer.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whispered.

But Steve shook his head. Slowly. Distantly.

“I don’t think it will be.”

There was something so human about him in that moment. Not the Captain. Not the soldier. Just a man who’d lived too long, lost too much, and still hadn’t learned how to stop hoping—even when it hurt.

He looked at you—really looked at you. The intensity in his eyes bordered on overwhelming. But what you saw there wasn’t fear. It was trust. Worn, heavy, aching trust.

“You can back out at any point,” he said, voice rough. “If it’s too much. If he—”

“I’m here,” you interrupted softly, a small smile blooming. “And I’m here to stay.”

Steve stared at you for a moment longer, then—without warning—you stepped in and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He folded into you immediately, arms winding tightly around your waist like the weight of the world was something he could put down, just for a second, if he held onto you.

His breath was warm against your hair.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice frayed at the edges. “For being here. For me.”

Your fingers curled at his nape, anchoring him. “Always.”

When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist. The kind of touch that said, I can’t ask for more, but I’d be lost without this.

You gave his hand a final squeeze, then watched as he turned and opened the door to where Bucky waited.

The door clicked shut behind Steve with a soft finality.

Bucky sat on the edge of the mattress, shoulders hunched forward, elbows on his knees. His hair was damp from where he’d splashed water on his face earlier. There was still blood crusted in his hairline from the fight in Bucharest. He hadn’t spoken in hours—not really. Just a grunt here and there when Steve checked on him.

The room was dark and cold, lit only by a single bulb hanging overhead, flickering just enough to be annoying. Dust danced in the light. The walls were bare. There was a thin mattress pushed into the corner and not much else.

He could hear someone talking outside. A familiar voice. And a softer one.

Then footsteps. Boots against concrete.

He didn’t look up when Steve entered.

Steve took a breath and crossed the floor slowly. He didn’t say anything at first, didn’t try to force conversation.

He just sat, giving Bucky space to choose.

"You holding up?" Steve finally asked.

Bucky shrugged. His metal fingers flexed slightly. “Still breathing.”

It took another minute before Bucky spoke again, voice hoarse, low.

“You’re leaving.”

Steve nodded. “Not for long.”

Bucky lifted his head, the shadows under his eyes deeper than ever. “Where?”

“Sam and I need to pull some others in. It’s moving fast.” Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But I’m not leaving you alone.”

Bucky’s mouth tightened slightly. “You’re not?”

“No.” Steve gave him a look. “She’s staying.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “The woman outside.”

Steve smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

Bucky paused, then asked—carefully, cautiously—“That your girl?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, looking down at the floor. “No. God, no. She’s… she’s just a friend.”

“Doesn’t sound like ‘just a friend,’” Bucky muttered.

“She’s just my friend,” Steve said again.

Bucky studied him for a long moment, the gears clearly turning behind his tired eyes. “You trust her.”

“With my life.”

“And you’re leaving her with me.” That wasn’t a question. That was Bucky quietly testing the weight of what Steve was asking.

“I’m not leaving her with you like she’s a babysitter,” Steve said, voice firm but warm. “She offered. Because she cares. Because she’s kind. And because she’s not afraid of you.”

Bucky’s head dropped slightly. “That’s a mistake.”

“No,” Steve said firmly. “It’s not. You’re not the man Hydra turned you into.”

“You sure?”

Steve stood slowly, walking over to the window, eyes scanning the alleyway below. “Yes and she’ll be here when you need her. Whether you like it or not.”

Bucky grunted. “Sounds annoying.”

Steve chuckled. “You’ll get used to her.”

He moved to the door but paused with his hand on the knob. “Bucky?”

He looked up.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve said again, softer this time. “But I do care about her. She’ll look after you. Let her.”

Bucky stayed quiet for a long moment, watching his friend’s back. The silence stretched.

Then, quietly, “She got a name?”

Steve turned back to him with a small, knowing smile. “Ask her yourself.”

Silence stretched. The tension in Bucky’s shoulders didn’t ease, but something in his eyes flickered. Not quite trust. But maybe curiosity.

────────────────────────

Outside, you were waiting patiently, arms folded, gaze flicking down the hallway as he approached. You gave him a questioning look.

“How’d it go?”

“He asked if you were my girl.”

You blinked, then laughed softly. “That’s a first.”

“I told him no. Just a loyal, stubborn friend.”

You nudged his arm. “Stubborn’s a little rude.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

He gave you a final, grateful look—the kind that carried years of friendship in one glance—then disappeared down the stairwell, leaving you standing in the dim hallway outside Bucky’s room.

You inhaled slowly, squared your shoulders, and turned toward the door.

The door creaked softly as you stepped inside.

The air inside was still—almost unnaturally so. Dim light filtered through the cracked blinds, casting lines of gold across the worn floorboards. The mattress sat low to the ground, old and bare, and on it sat a man who looked more like a memory than a presence.

Bucky didn’t look up right away.

He was perched on the edge of the mattress like he didn’t know what to do with his body. Shoulders squared. Hands resting on his knees. The metal one glinting faintly under the weak light. He didn’t move as you entered, didn’t speak—just turned and looked at you as if you might explode if he blinked.

His face was as unreadable as you'd expected. Blank. Cold. Not hostile, just... emptied out.

Still, you offered him the softest smile you could manage.

“Hi,” you said softly, introducing yourself.

No reaction. Not even a flinch.

You took a step forward, slow and steady, keeping your voice warm. “Steve asked me to check in on you.”

Still nothing. But he hadn’t asked you to leave either

“I’m not here to watch you,” you spoke, stepping forward slowly, palms open, posture relaxed. “Not like that. I’m just here if you need anything.”

Silence.

But his eyes followed you, blue and unreadable.

“I’m not an agent or anything,” you added. “But I figured a quiet face wouldn’t hurt.”

His gaze dropped back to the floor.

Your eyes drifted to the gash above his eyebrow again. The skin around it looked irritated. Dry blood had trailed down his temple, now flaked and cracking.

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured. “Your forehead.”

He blinked once. No acknowledgment. Just the same blank stare.

You nodded slightly to yourself, then crossed to the nearby table where Steve had left a bottle of water, some basic medical supplies. You grabbed a cloth and dampened it gently.

When you returned, you paused beside him.

“Can I…?” you asked gently, holding up the cloth just slightly. “Take care of that?”

There was a long pause. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes—suspicion, uncertainty, maybe even something like confusion.

Then he gave a small, stiff nod.

You didn’t sit on the mattress beside him. That felt too close. Instead, you knelt down on the floor, leveling yourself just enough to reach him, and held the cloth delicately in your fingers.

“Okay,” you said, mostly to fill the silence. “This might be a little cold.”

You dabbed gently at the gash on his forehead, careful not to apply too much pressure. The dried blood flaked away slowly under your touch. You worked in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the cloth against his skin and the hush of your own breath.

Bucky didn’t flinch.

But he watched you.

Close. Unblinking.

Like he was trying to find the trick in your movements. Waiting for the shift—when the care would curdle into expectation. Or interrogation. Or pity.

But you just kept working, your touch steady, your face calm.

After a long moment, he finally spoke—voice low and rough, like unused gravel.

“You an Avenger?”

It caught you a little off guard, but you smiled faintly, not stopping your work.

“Not at all,” you said. “Maybe honorary. I just help Steve out. Here and there.”

You wiped the last of the blood from his temple, then lowered the cloth.

“But mostly,” you added with a small shrug, “I stick to New York.”

He was still staring at you. His brow twitched slightly. “Doing what?”

You chuckled, folding the cloth neatly in your lap. “I’m a lawyer.”

The expression on his face shifted for the first time—just a flicker, but there. His eyes narrowed slightly. Disbelieving, “A lawyer?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

His look said it before his lips did.

What the hell are you doing here?

You didn’t need him to ask.

You met his gaze—steady, warm, sure.

“A lawyer that knows right from wrong,” you said simply.

The room fell quiet again.

He stared at you like he was trying to see the catch—trying to spot where the kindness ended and the judgment began.

It didn’t come.

“I’m just here to help,” you said, barely above a whisper.

You stayed kneeling for a few more moments, wringing the bloodied cloth between your fingers, giving him space even while sitting right in front of him.

Bucky still hadn’t moved.

He just watched you. Not with suspicion exactly—more like quiet observation, like he was still figuring out what you were.

You gave him a moment, then sat back on your heels and rested your arms on your knees.

“So,” you started gently, as if you were just catching up with someone over coffee, “Steve said you were from Brooklyn.”

His eyes didn’t move.

You waited a beat. Nothing.

“I’m from Hell’s Kitchen,” you added, offering a half-smile.

Still nothing. But something in his eyes flickered. Just barely.

“Grew up around a lot of noise,” you went on, your voice soft but casual. “Corner bodegas. Fire escapes. People yelling out their windows at four in the morning.”

Another pause. You risked glancing at him again.

Still no words. But his gaze lingered now. Slightly more engaged.

“I used to go up on the roof with a book and just... tune it all out,” you said, smiling faintly at the memory. “Never worked. Some jackass was always blasting Sinatra or arguing about Mets scores.”

You caught a flicker at that—almost a breath of amusement in his expression. Almost.

“Guess Brooklyn wasn’t so different back then, huh?”

Still silence.

But now, he was looking at you—not through you.

You shrugged, eyes gentle. “Anyway. Just figured I’d try to talk. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

His eyes finally dropped to the floor again, but his shoulders had eased. A fraction.

You added, “And if it helps at all… I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

That got you a flicker of eye contact again.

You smiled, soft and unbothered. “And you, from the looks of it, don’t talk unless you absolutely have to. So, we make a solid pair.”

No reaction.

You let out a small sigh.

The room had settled into a quiet sort of calm by late evening.

Bucky hadn’t spoken much—if at all—but he hadn’t pulled away when you refilled his water or dropped off a spare blanket either. A win in your book.

You hadn’t meant to take the call in front of him.

But you also couldn’t afford to ignore it—not when Matt Murdock’s name lit up your screen with its usual stubborn persistence.

You shifted where you sat on the edge of the room’s lone table, pressing the phone to your ear while still keeping Bucky in the corner of your eye. He sat on the mattress, back against the wall, arms folded stiffly over his chest. Watching. Always watching.

“Good evening,” you greeted softly, careful to keep your voice low.

There was a pause. Then, sharp and unmistakably annoyed, “Where the hell are you?”

You smiled. “Hi to you too, Matty.”

“I came by your loft, you weren't there.”

“No, because I’m in Germany.”

There was a long pause.

“…Germany?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize international borders exist, right? And that we’re not technically allowed to cross them at will?”

“You do realize you’re blind and still have better spatial awareness than the TSA, right?”

“You were just in New York yesterday,” he said, exasperated. “You can’t keep dropping everything the second Steve Rogers snaps his fingers.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Jealousy and judgment in one breath. Impressive.”

“I’m not jealous,” he bit out. “I’m concerned. You didn’t even tell anyone you were leaving the country.”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I didn’t plan to. Things moved fast. It’s not like I’m on vacation, Matt.”

“You think I don’t know what fast looks like?” he shot back. “This is the kind of fast that gets people killed. You’re not a soldier. You’re not—”

“I’m not you,” you snapped, before immediately softening your tone. “I’m not you, Matt. But you don’t get to lecture me about dropping everything for a ghost from your past when you've barely been present since yours came back.”

The line went still.

You exhaled. “I’m not trying to fight with you.”

“I know,” he said finally, voice quieter now. “I just… I worry. You matter to people, you know?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” you promised. “Just keeping someone safe until Steve gets back.”

There was a beat.

“…Is that someone dangerous?”

You glanced across the room. Bucky’s eyes were still on you, narrowed faintly in curiosity.

“No,” you said. “Not to me.”

Matt didn’t sound convinced. “Call me when you land.”

“I will.”

You ended the call with a gentle sigh, letting your head rest back against the wall.

Across the room, Bucky was watching you.

Not glaring. Not tense. Just watching—with that unreadable look he wore like armor.

You raised the phone slightly. “Work colleague.“

His brow lifted, slightly skeptical.

You tilted your head. “Okay, close work colleague.”

He didn’t respond. But you swore you caught the briefest twitch at the corner of his mouth—something almost like amusement.

You didn’t press.

You just leaned your head back and closed your eyes.

And that’s when you heard it.

Footsteps.

A faint but steady rhythm outside, boots against gravel, echoing just enough through the warehouse walls to mimic something far more sinister.

The blood drained from Bucky’s face in an instant.

His body snapped upright, rigid. His eyes locked on the door.

And his breathing changed.

Subtle at first. A slight hitch. A break in rhythm. The kind of thing you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.

And you weren’t.

You were halfway to the window already, your phone still in hand, distracted by the soft scrape of boots on gravel outside. You weren’t even looking at him when you said, “I’ll be right back. Just want to check it out.”

You moved with ease, brushing aside the edge of the tarp covering the glass. From where you stood, you caught a glimpse—just a guy with a backpack, head down, walking briskly down the alley. Civilian. No uniform. No earpiece.

Harmless.

You turned back toward the room, already ready to reassure—

And stopped cold.

Bucky hadn’t moved from the bed.

But everything about him had changed.

He was still seated, but his hands were clenched into fists, white-knuckled. His shoulders were drawn in tight, and his head was tipped down, jaw locked, chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid bursts.

“Bucky?”

His eyes snapped up.

Wide. Unfocused. Wild.

Your heart dropped.

You took a step closer. “Hey. You’re okay, it was just someone walking past. No one’s coming.”

But he didn’t hear you. Not really.

His breath hitched again, sharper this time. A low sound escaped his throat—almost a growl, almost a sob—and his metal hand twitched violently on his knee.

“I can’t—” he choked, fingers clawing at the edge of the mattress. “I can’t—breathe—”

You froze for half a second, then rushed forward, dropping into a crouch in front of him, palms out, voice gentle but firm.

“Okay. Okay, Bucky. You’re having a panic attack. I know it feels like you can’t breathe, but you are. I promise, you are. You need to try to slow it down, or your body’s going to lock up on you.”

His chest was rising in harsh, ragged gasps now, every breath shallow and frantic. His eyes were darting around the room like he was trapped, like every wall was closing in.

You hovered your hands near his knees, not touching, just there. “I’m not gonna grab you. You’re safe. You’re in control. You’re not back there.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, body trembling. “I can’t—I can’t get out—I can’t—”

“Hey. Hey.” Your voice broke on the word. “You’re not trapped. I’m right here. You’re with me, remember?”

No response.

His breathing was worsening. He wasn’t inhaling fully anymore. Just choking down gulps of air like they weren’t sticking. His fingers curled against the mattress, his body rocking slightly.

He’s going to pass out.

You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your voice steady even as panic rose in your own chest.

“Okay. Listen to me. We’re going to ground, alright? Just do what you can.” You reached up, hovering your fingers closer to his arm. “Five things you can see. Look around, just five.”

He blinked rapidly, lips parted, shaking.

“Five things,” you repeated. “Just name them. Anything.”

“I—I can’t,” he rasped. “I can’t—I can’t see—fuck—”

Your gut twisted.

“Alright. It’s okay, it’s okay,” you whispered, watching his eyes roll slightly upward as if his mind was spinning off. “Bucky, please. Just hold onto something.”

But he couldn’t.

You could see the fight in him, but the grip of the attack had its claws in deep now, dragging him down. His hand jerked, metal fingers spasming like his nerves were short-circuiting.

He was slipping.

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan.

You just acted.

You surged forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Your hand cupped his jaw, thumb grazing the scruff of his cheek, your lips moving against his like your breath could anchor him, like your body could pull him back from wherever his mind had gone.

At first, he didn’t move.

His breath hitched hard in your mouth, his body rigid.

And then—

He breathed.

Not perfect. Not deep.

But something shifted.

The tension in his shoulders dipped slightly. His mouth softened just enough under yours. The rigid rock of his spine eased.

You pulled back after a beat, gasping softly, shocked at yourself, still close enough to feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

His eyes snapped open.

Blue. Wide. Raw.

You blinked, stammering. “I—I didn’t know what else to do. I read once—somewhere—that when you’re panicking, holding your breath can reset your lungs, and so—” You swallowed. “So, when I kissed you… you held your breath.”

His lips parted, still trembling.

Your hand was still lightly on his jaw. You started to pull it away, “I’m sorry—”

But then his hand—his metal hand—caught your wrist.

Gently.

He stared at you, breathing hard, but steadier now. Something wild still flickered behind his eyes—but it wasn’t panic anymore.

It was something else.

Something desperate.

Your breath caught somewhere in your throat.

Bucky’s hand—cold metal and trembling restraint—was still wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand pressed to his jaw. His skin beneath your palm was warm, rough with stubble, tense with something unreadable.

You should’ve tried to pull away again.

You should’ve said something. But you couldn’t speak.

Not with the way he was looking at you. Like you weren’t real. Like he’d dreamed you up in some quiet corner of his broken mind and was terrified you might disappear if he blinked too long.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. Your mind raced, caught between guilt and instinct.

“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice. “I just didn’t know what else—”

And then you felt it.

His other hand.

You hadn’t even noticed it moving. But now, his warm, flesh hand was at the back of your head, fingers tangling through your hair, firm and certain.

You barely had time to breathe before he pulled you in.

The kiss came fast.

No hesitation. No apology.

It collided with your mouth like a dam breaking—like a gasp swallowed between parted lips and bruised hearts. His hand on your wrist still held you in place, while the other tilted your head just enough to claim every inch of your mouth.

You made a startled sound—something between a breath and a gasp—and your hands moved instinctively finding his shoulders as you fell forward into his chest.

Your body hit his with more force than you meant, but he didn’t flinch. If anything, he pulled you closer, like your weight grounded him.

His kiss deepened.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was hungry.

Like he needed this more than air. Like the feel of your mouth, the press of your body, was the only thing holding him in the present. His lips moved against yours with bruising pressure, desperate and hot, tongue flicking past your parted lips like he couldn’t stand not to taste you again.

And you melted.

Every thought, every question, every ounce of guilt evaporated the second his tongue touched yours.

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders. Your knees threatened to give out. His breath was ragged in your mouth, nose brushing yours, body trembling with barely leashed tension.

This wasn’t just comfort.

This was need.

Pure and primal.

His hands were on you now—both of them. The right still cradled the back of your head, fingers buried in your hair, holding you close. But the left… the left had found your waist, sliding up beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing along your side like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch but couldn’t help himself.

You felt the chill of metal and the heat of human skin, trembling and unsure.

He kissed you harder. Mouth moving against yours with clumsy, desperate hunger—no rhythm, no restraint. He wasn’t kissing to seduce.

He was kissing to feel.

When his lips broke from yours, they didn’t go far. They dropped to your jaw, then your throat, his breath hot and uneven as he murmured something unintelligible against your skin.

His tongue dragged along the side of your neck, followed by soft, open-mouthed kisses—rushed, messy, too fast. Like he didn’t know where to start. Like he wanted to taste every inch of you at once.

“God…” he breathed, mouth moving to your collarbone. “You’re so soft…”

His hands moved again, a little braver now—palming your waist, then your back, then your hips. He tugged at your shirt, his fingers grazing over the fabric like it was in his way, like he needed to touch more.

And that’s when your thoughts finally broke through the haze.

You gasped, blinking hard, fingers coming up to press gently against his chest.

“Bucky,” you said, breathless. “We should stop.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull back.

His lips paused just below your ear, trembling.

“This isn’t good for you,” you whispered. “You’re in a bad headspace, and I don’t want to take advantage—”

He pulled back enough to look at you, his eyes wide and pleading, voice cracking.

“Please,” he whispered.

Your heart shattered.

“Bucky—”

“Please,” he said again, more desperate now. “I—I need to feel you. I need to know I’m still here. That I’m not… that I’m not him.”

Your hands trembled where they rested on his chest.

His voice broke entirely. “Just… just let me touch you. Let me feel something that isn’t pain. Please…”

You stared at him for a long moment, his words still ringing in your ears, his hands trembling against your waist.

Let me feel something that isn’t pain.

The breath left your chest in a slow, trembling sigh.

And then you leaned in.

Your lips met his again—not rough this time, but slow, deep, deliberate. A promise.

Bucky responded like he’d been holding his breath.

His hands flew to your sides, tugging you closer until your knees straddled his thighs, until your chest was flush with his. He let out a broken, needy sound as you kissed him, fingers dragging up your spine, gripping, clutching, like he was terrified you’d vanish if he let go.

You pulled back just long enough to whisper against his lips, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He moaned at that—actually moaned—his mouth crashing into yours again as his hands started moving, frantic and restless, skimming beneath your shirt, tugging at the fabric like it was an obstacle, not clothing.

Your fingers slid up into his hair, holding his face between your palms like he was something fragile. You kissed him deeper, letting him pour himself into it, letting him need you. And all the while, you rocked slowly in his lap, hips rolling in a subtle, steady rhythm that made both of you gasp.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered against your mouth. “You feel so good… I can’t—can’t get close enough.”

He pulled harder at your shirt, his hands shaking with how desperately he wanted more of you. You broke the kiss just long enough to fumble with the buttons, undoing only a few before he lost patience entirely.

His hands flew up to your chest, and in one frantic motion, he tugged your bra down beneath your breasts.

“Bucky—”

But then his mouth was on you, and the words dissolved.

He latched onto your breast with a groan so guttural it vibrated through your core. His tongue swirled around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth like he was starved for it—like this was the only thing tethering him to earth.

You gasped, eyes flying wide, one hand clinging to his shoulder as your hips jerked against him.

“Oh my—Bucky—”

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

His metal hand clutched your back, holding you in place as he lavished your breast with open-mouthed kisses, warm and wet and messy. His other hand palmed your waist, guiding your hips in time with his own.

You rutted against him harder now, both of you still fully clothed, the friction unbearable and perfect. His cock pressed thick and hard against you through his jeans, and the way he groaned into your skin when you ground down on him made your thighs tremble.

“Please,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Please don’t stop.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, guiding him, anchoring him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you breathed. “I’ve got you.”

And he moaned again, mouth still on your skin, hips jerking upward into you like he was begging you to believe him.

Your breathing was ragged. His lips were still wet from your skin. And when you pulled back slightly—only just enough to break contact—Bucky let out a whine.

Not a word. A sound. Broken, instinctual.

“Don’t—” he gasped, trying to follow you. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice barely stable as you pushed gently against his chest.

He let you guide him back, his body hitting the thin mattress with a soft thump, arms still reaching for you like he couldn’t stand a single inch of distance.

“I’ve got you,” you promised again, voice low and sure, even as your hands moved fast.

You didn’t fully undress—didn’t need to. You shoved your jeans down, just past your knees, the waistband biting into your thighs as you knelt between his legs. Bucky’s chest heaved as he watched you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was starving.

“God, you’re…” he breathed, voice hoarse. “You’re not real.”

You reached for his jeans, fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle, your own hands shaking now with the sheer pressure of what you were doing—what this was. You unzipped him, tugging his waistband down just far enough to free him.

And there he was.

Hard. Leaking. So fucking ready it made your mouth go dry.

He twitched when your hand wrapped around him—just once—and he gasped, hips jerking slightly off the mattress.

“Please,” he murmured again. “I—I need to be inside you. Please, I need—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You rose back up onto his thighs, grabbed his cock at the base, and positioned yourself with practiced urgency.

He held his breath.

And then—you sank down.

Slow, steady, deep.

Bucky cried out, head snapping back against the mattress, eyes fluttering shut as your heat wrapped around him. “Fuck,—Jesus—”

You couldn’t even breathe for a second. The stretch was intense, overwhelming—your thighs trembling as you adjusted, hands braced on his chest.

Beneath you, he was shaking.

Completely undone.

His hands flew to your hips, gripping tight, not to guide you—but just to hold on.

You stayed there a moment, full of him, pulsing around him, feeling every tremble in his frame.

Then you leaned down, lips brushing his cheek, and whispered, “You feel that?”

He nodded, frantic.

“That’s real. I’m real. And you’re not alone.”

And then you started to move.

You moved slowly at first—hips rolling, drawing his cock in deep, then easing back up, dragging every inch of him against your walls. Bucky’s head tipped back, a shudder ripping through him, his mouth slack, eyes blown wide as his hands dug into your waist like he was terrified you might stop.

“God,” he rasped, “you feel—fuck, you feel so good—”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. The way your body wrapped around him, the rhythm building in your hips—it said everything.

You rode him harder, faster now, the tension rising like a fever. The denim of his jeans and the way your own clothes clung to sweat-slick skin made everything feel even messier, even more raw. The friction burned in the best way, every drag of your body against his driving him closer to the edge.

Bucky couldn’t stop touching you. His hands were on your waist, your thighs, your back—like he couldn’t decide where he needed you more. His voice was low and broken, a litany of groans and murmured please, please, please, even when you were already giving him everything.

When you leaned in and pressed your forehead to his, your fingers tangling in his hair, he was right there with you—breathing you in like oxygen.

His chest was rising fast now, the rhythm in your hips growing sloppy, desperate. You could feel him pulsing inside you, getting close.

Then—suddenly—he surged upward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him as his mouth found yours again. The kiss was rough, needy, all tongue and teeth and shaky breath. He needed to be connected—to feel you pressed against him in every possible way as he unraveled.

And then he came.

You felt it—deep, hot, twitching inside you as he groaned into your mouth, burying his face in your shoulder, his entire body trembling as you held him through it. His arms clutched you tight, almost too tight, like if he let go you might vanish.

You didn’t.

You stayed with him. Arms wrapped around his shoulders. Lips at his temple. Your hips finally stilled.

You hadn’t come. You weren’t even thinking about it.

This—this—had never been about you.

It was for him.

To remind him that he was here. That he was human. That he was held.

You were still catching your breath, his body trembling in your arms, when it happened.

Without a word—without even looking up—Bucky shifted beneath you, tightening his arms around your waist. And before you could ask what he was doing, he flipped you.

Your back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and you barely had time to gasp before his body followed, pressing you down, caging you in.

“Bucky—” you started, surprised, dazed.

But the look in his eyes stole the words from your mouth.

Focused. Intense. Wild with a need you hadn’t seen before—but not for his own release this time.

For yours.

He was still hard inside you. Still there. And now, he began to move.

Not gently.

Not slowly.

He pounded into you—hips snapping forward with frantic rhythm, as if something had cracked open inside him and he couldn’t bear not to give you back everything you’d just given him. Every thrust was deep, hard, messy. His breath came in grunts and gasps, his forehead pressed to yours, his body slick with sweat.

You clutched at his shoulders, your own body struggling to keep up as pleasure started to crash over you like a wave.

“Let me,” he panted, voice low and wrecked. “Let me make you feel good. You—fuck, you were so good to me—I need—I need to make you come—please—”

Your breath hitched, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut as his cock drove into you again and again, hitting all the right angles now with dizzying precision. His hand slid down, slipping between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate, trying to draw your pleasure up through every inch of you.

The pressure built fast. Too fast.

You were already so full, so overwhelmed—his voice in your ear, his fingers on your body, his cock so hard inside you—and the way he moved… God.

“You don’t have to—” you started, already trembling.

“I want to,” he growled, fucking into you harder, deeper, like he couldn’t get close enough.

You whimpered, body jerking beneath his as the tension in your core snapped tighter, tighter, tighter—

“Come for me,” he groaned. “Please. I need to feel it.”

And then you did.

You came with a moan that tore out of your throat, back arching, hands clutching at his back as your body spasmed around him. Bucky groaned, dropping his head into your neck, hips still moving as he rode you through it, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

Like giving you pleasure was what made him feel whole.

His body trembled as he came down, the last few ragged thrusts losing momentum until finally—finally—he stilled, buried deep inside you, heart pounding hard enough that you could feel it through his chest.

He hovered there for a moment, arms shaking, breath catching in his throat.

And then he collapsed.

Not all at once. Slowly, carefully. Like his strength gave out in stages. But even as he let himself fall into you, he caught his weight on his forearms, mindful, always mindful—never fully resting on you. He curled slightly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck like he needed to hide. Like the world was too bright again, too loud, and your skin was the only place left that felt quiet.

Your arms came around him without hesitation.

One hand slipped across his back, fingers splayed wide, gently grounding him with each stroke up and down his spine. The other cradled the back of his head, thumb sweeping slowly through his damp hair, cradling him like something precious.

His breath hitched once.

You didn’t speak right away.

You just held him.

He melted into it slowly, his metal arm resting against the mattress beside your head, his human hand fisting weakly in the blanket beneath you. You felt the tremble still in his muscles—aftershocks of everything he’d just released.

“Shh,” you murmured, soft against his ear. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His forehead pressed tighter to your throat.

“You’re safe now,” you whispered, voice low and steady. “Right here with me.”

He exhaled, shaky and fragile.

“You’re not alone. You’re not him. You’re not broken.”

He didn’t answer—but he didn’t need to.

He let you hold him.

You kept going, voice like a lullaby, your fingers never stopping.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you murmured. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip on the blanket loosened, and he shifted just enough to finally let some of his weight settle into your body.

Not too much.

Just enough to trust.

[ilovolderman]

You Said What?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You accidentaly call Bucky babe during a mission briefing in front of the whole team.

Word Count: 506

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating

A/N: This is a short story that came to my mind while I was studying, so I had to write it down. Hope you like it :)

Everyone’s crowded around the mission table. It’s too early, someone definitely stole your last coffee, and you're still rubbing sleep out of your eyes when Steve starts explaining the recon plan with way too many acronyms.

Bucky’s next to you, legs slightly touching, flipping a pen between his fingers like he’s not just waiting for a reason to pull your chair closer. He’s staring straight ahead like a good soldier, but you catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye every time your knee bounces.

You're trying to pay attention. Something about rooftops, safehouses, surveillance drones and you’re barely following when—

“…and Barnes, you’ll be on overwatch with Y/N.”

And you, running on 2 hours of sleep and one granola bar, lean toward Bucky without thinking.

“Did you hear that, babe?”

Silence.

Cold. Dead. Silence.

Everyone looks at you.

Nat squints. Sam raises both eyebrows so high they disappear into his hairline. Peter drops his pen. Steve, bless his heart, blinks like someone just smacked him with a frisbee.

Bucky doesn’t breathe. Your soul detaches from your body, floats toward the ceiling, and screams.

You scramble. “I—I said bro. Like, ‘Did you hear that, bro?’ That’s what I said. Like a…cool, soldier-y nickname. Haha.”

The room is quiet again. No one believes you. Especially not Sam.  “You said babe. You said it casually.”

Bucky doesn’t even look at you. He’s locked in full Winter Soldier mode, eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall like he’s trying to transcend to another timeline.

“I think she said brrr,” Bucky offers, stone-faced. “She’s cold.”

“She’s wearing a hoodie,” Peter mutters.

You laugh way too loud. “It’s the energy in here. Very chilly.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, arms crossed, staring straight ahead like if he makes direct eye contact with anyone he’ll combust.

Steve slowly turns to him. “Barnes?”

“…Yeah?”

“You cold too?”

Bucky shrugs. “Freezing.”

You know he’s going to murder you in the hallway. Probably kiss you breathless after. But first—death.

Steve stares a moment longer. Then—mercifully—moves on. But the damage is done.

Nat doesn’t. “So… bro, huh?”

You glare at her.

Later, when the meeting is already over, you burst in Bucky's room, already talking. “I told you this would happen, I told you I’d forget—”

Bucky slams the door shut and corners you. “You said babe. In front of Rogers.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I wanna crawl inside a ventilation shaft and disappear.”

He chuckles—actually chuckles—and pulls your hands away.

“Wanna know a secret?” he murmurs, leaning in.

“…What?”

“I liked it.”

You blink up at him. “You liked almost being exposed?”

“No,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “I liked hearing you call me babe.”

Your heart stutters.

“…Say it again.”

You grin. “Babe?”

Then he kisses you like the whole building isn’t even real. Like the only thing in the universe is your mouth and his hands and the way you said it without even realizing.

A/N: i just wrote a lil part 2 about them, it’s not a direct sequel but if you feel like cheking out, here it is. hope you like it, and thanks for reading <3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

hiii! can i request a bucky fanfic that takes place in civil war? specifically, the scene where zemo activated the winter solider and he starts attacking the avengers. and the soldier notices reader but for some reason spares her. maybe the reader is also an avenger, and has an established relationship with bucky? thank youuuu, have a good day! <33

Sparing You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: Bucky spares you when he’s in Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst, language, established relationship, boyfriend!Bucky/girlfriend!reader, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @timmytimberdrake 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

As you watched the camera footage of the room Bucky is in with Zemo, you could tell that something wasn’t right about Zemo. You didn’t need to be in the same room as him to know that.

“Something doesn’t seem right with that Zemo guy.” You say.

Steve nods as he continues to watch the footage. You stood up from your seat and walked over to Steve, standing next to him to get a better look at the screen. As you guys continued watching it, the power went out, confusing everyone. You, Steve, and Sam exchanged looks before making your way to where Bucky is. Bucky wasn’t in the metal pod or anywhere in the room when you guys got in there. Zemo wasn’t on the floor. Steve grabbed him by his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“What the hell did you do to him?” You asked Zemo.

“You’ll find out in a moment, Miss. Y/L/N.” Zemo says, smirking evilly.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

How the hell does he know your name?

That’s when Bucky came out of nowhere and started attacking Steve and Sam. He threw Sam against the pod and shoved Steve against the elevator doors hard enough to make him fall through them. Your eyes went wide. That was enough to tell you that Bucky is in Winter Soldier mode. Bucky turned around, accidentally bumping into you. You stumbled backwards, but didn’t fall. You stared up at him, waiting for him to attack you, but he didn’t. He just stared down at you for a few seconds before walking away. Now, you’re confused.

Why didn’t he attack you like he did to Steve and Sam just seconds ago?

You followed him through the building, making sure he didn’t notice you. You hid along the wall that led to a seating area with some tables. You poked your head out to see Bucky attacking the rest of the Avengers.

“Is Barnes in there?” Tony asks from behind you.

“Yes.” You replied.

Tony got his blaster ready and aimed it at Bucky, blasting him. Your eyes went wide when he did that. You watched Bucky approach Tony with a gun.

“Uh oh.” You mumbled to yourself.

You felt like you should do something. You ran out to the seating area before Bucky could shoot Tony. You managed to get the gun out of Bucky’s strong grip. You unloaded the bullets from it and threw it as far as you could. Bucky just stared at you. You gulped, thinking he was going to attack you this time, but he didn’t. He gently moved you to the side before attacking Tony.

“Why didn’t Barnes attack you?” T’Challa asks.

“I-I don’t know.” You replied.

You didn’t let Bucky out of your sight even when after he went after T’Challa. You followed him, keeping your distance. Following him led both of you to the roof of the building. You watched Bucky get on the helicopter and started it. Steve opened the door, entering the roof. You watched Steve run towards the helicopter and grabbed onto it so Bucky couldn’t fly away. He used all of his strength to pull it down. He wanted to stop his best friend before things got worse.

———

Steve managed to get Bucky to an abandoned factory. Bucky was unconscious at the moment. You stared at Bucky while biting your nails as you thought to yourself. You were curious to know why Bucky didn’t attack you when he was in Winter Soldier mode. That’s when it hit you. You and Bucky met during your trip to Romania last Summer. You and him hung out and got to know each other. You two made it official before leaving to go back home. You guys kept yours and his relationship a secret. You hate that you kept this from your friends, especially Steve.

“Y/N, are you ok? Did he hurt?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm? Yea, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” You say.

Steve stared at you, studying your body language. He could tell that you were keeping something from him and he’s going to find out what it is.

“Cap, he’s waking up.” Sam says.

You, Steve, and Sam enter the area Bucky is in. Bucky groans as he wakes up. He furrows his eyebrows when he notices that his metal arm is wedged in some kind of machine.

“Steve…” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks.

“Your mom’s name is Sarah and you used to wear newspaper in your shoes.” Bucky says.

“Can’t read that in a museum.” Steve says.

“And now, we’re supposed to be cool?” Sam says.

“What did I do?” Bucky asks, looking at Sam.

“Nothing.” You say softly.

Bucky turns his attention to you, smiling when he seen you. Steve looks from Bucky to you, sensing something between the two of you.

“What’s going on between you two?” Steve asks you and Bucky.

You looked at Bucky. He nodded, letting you know it’s ok to tell Steve about yours and his relationship.

“Remember when I went on a trip to Europe last Summer?” You asked.

Steve and Sam nodded.

“Well, I went to Romania for the remainder of my trip and I met Bucky when I was there. Him and I hung out and got to know each other. We made our relationship official before I came home. Him and I kept it a secret.” You explained.

“How long have you two been together?” Steve asks.

“Almost a year.” You tell him.

“A year?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Steve says.

“Don’t get mad at her. I’m the one who said to keep our relationship a secret.” Bucky says.

Steve sighs and puts his hands on his hips, trying to process the fact that you kept your relationship with Bucky a secret for almost a year.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam ask Bucky.

Bucky looks at Sam and nods.

“Why didn’t you attack Y/N when you were in Winter Soldier mode?” He asks curiously.

“I wanted to spare her. Even though all of the programming, I still somehow knew who she is.” Bucky says.

You smiled and walked over to Bucky, giving him a hug.

“I would’ve forgiven you even if you did attack me.” You say softly, gazing in his blue eyes.

Bucky stared in your eyes. He loves how loving you are. He also loves how you can see past his mistakes he made over the years. That’s his favorite things about you. Bucky’s right hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin. He kisses you softly and sweetly. As Steve looks at the two of you and watches the cute moment unfold in front of him, he then realizes that Bucky most likely asked you to keep yours and his relationship a secret to protect you so nothing bad happened to you.

“You guys kept your relationship a secret to protect her, didn’t you?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” Bucky answers softly.

“I didn’t mean to get mad at you guys. It would’ve been nice to know. Just don’t keep anymore secrets from us, ok?” Steve says.

You and Bucky nodded. Now, that you guys talked everything out and got it out of the way, you guys can move forward on the plan.

“I know a guy.” Sam says.

Steve nods, letting Sam know to call him.

“I’ll protect you.” You say softly to Bucky.

“You’re so sweet, doll.” Bucky smiles. “I love you.” He almost whispers, kissing your lips softly.

“I love you too, sweetie.” You whispered back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[jiyascepter]

Caught You | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Words: 4012

Warnings/Content: SMUT; Avenger! Loki & Avenger! Y/n, Themes of dub-con, dark-ish Loki??, dom!Loki, pervy!Loki, possessive, jealous loki, use of loki's magic (in a lot of sexual stuff), restraints, bondage, biting, licking, aggressive, pissed loki, praise, slight degradation, there's a tattoo on y/n's thigh (for the plot!), other mcu characters also make an appearance, clit licking, fingering, overstimulation, p in v.

Please lmk if I missed anything! Loki is a bit of red-flaggy in this one, please keep in mind this is only a fanfiction.

Summary: When you make fun of Loki's magic, he "demonstrates" how his magic can be useful. In many, ehm..ways. What did you expect?

A/n: i moved the title in the corner so that i can keep seeing tommys's sexy face in the middle 😮‍💨 im trying to make my fics dirtier but it's not quite coming down in my works, like it's in my mind but it's not easy to express??? im trying & hopefully it'll come soon

The cavernous, dimly-lit warehouse echoed with the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. The Avengers were locked in combat with a band of mercenaries armed with advanced weaponry.

Tony was in the air, repulsor beams lighting up the darkness, while Natasha and Clint worked in tandem, their movements precise and deadly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, was a blur as it struck down the enemies with thunderous force.

In the midst of the chaos, Loki stood with an air of detached amusement, casting spells with flicks of his wrists. His magic sent mercenaries flying, created illusions to confuse their ranks, and conjured barriers to protect the teammates. But Loki's magic, powerful and unpredictable, was also a bit reckless tonight.

Maybe it was the leather suit you were wearing today.

"Loki, for the love of—watch where you're aiming!" You shouted as you narrowly avoided being hit by a stray spell meant for an enemy.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you shot him a glare. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Loki smirked, eyeing you up, not taking you seriously. "Perhaps if you were more attentive, you wouldn't find yourself in such precarious positions, darling."

You scowled and ducked under a swipe from a mercenary, retaliating with a swift punch that sent your opponent sprawling.

Ugh, you hated how he always carried that stupid smirk.

"Maybe if your magic was actually useful, we wouldn't be in precarious positions to begin with!"

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of irritation flashing through his otherwise calm demeanor. "Is that so? I seem to recall saving you from a similar predicament just last week."

"By causing it in the first place!" You shot back, dodging another mercenary's attack and taking him down with a well-placed kick. 

Loki rolls his eyes and runs in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion, making a group of mercenaries see each other as Avengers.

Confused, they turned on one another, giving the team a moment of respite. But the spell was too potent, and soon the illusion spread, affecting even the teammates. 

Chaos erupted as friends and foes became indistinguishable. 

"What the—" Tony exclaimed while flying over the scene. 

"Damn it, Loki!" You screamed, ducking, as Natasha took a swing at you, mistaking you for an enemy.

"Enough!" Thor bellowed, his hammer smashing into the ground to create a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet and dispelled the illusion.

The mercenaries, now disoriented, were quickly subdued.

The flight back home was quiet. Everyone was either tired, tending to their wounds, or just rethinking what happened back there. 

Once you landed, the rest of the Avengers stepped down the Quinjet and walked into the building to their rooms. 

"Loki, wait." Steve calls out and walks towards Loki in the lobby.

“About today—”

“Nobody died, Rogers.” Loki replies. 

"That is not an achievement," You murmur to yourself loudly on purpose for him to hear while taking a sip from your favourite grey-coloured sipper. 

Loki and Steve both glanced at you, with Steve carrying a hint of a smile on his face while Loki scowled and turned back to Steve.

You could tell he was not impressed. 

A win for you.

Steve clears his throat, turning serious once more. "Look, what happened today was not good. We cannot work as a team if we don't know half of your tricks."

Loki grins. "Well, that's the fun, isn't it? A surprise for everyone.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. "But it isn’t helping, Lo-"

"Helping? His magic is useless half the time."

Loki shoots an eye at you when you say that, and you could tell the God wasn't pleased.

"He's showing off in front of everyone, like the arrogant ass he is." You go on, while Loki watches you with his grave, sharp eyes.

Why wasn't he replying with his usual snarky comments today? 

Steve gives a light chuckle and pats Loki's shoulder as if feeling sorry for him, "Be careful next time, that's all I ask," and walks away through the corridor, leaving you and Loki to yourselves.

While waiting for the elevator, you silently stand in front of the doors, waiting for it to arrive.

Until you feel a hard pressure against your back.

The sensation is unmistakable—a solid, unyielding presence, warm and firm. Loki's chest. His closeness sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and subtle heat radiating through his clothes.

You stiffen, unsure whether to move away or stay still, the elevator's arrival feeling like an eternity away.

You decide to say something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ego broken, Loki~?" You say his name in a sing-song voice.

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, mortal?" he says, leaning down to your ear.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you reply, your voice steady despite the proximity.

The elevator reaches your floor, and with a little chime, its doors open. You proceed to take a step forward to enter the elevator when his hand grabs hold of the back side of your neck and pulls you back to him.

"Careful," he almost whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, "your tongue is going to get you in trouble one day."

You pause for a moment, feeling the tension thicken in the air, before you turn your head out of his hands to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt the big bad trickster's feelings?" You taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if your magic wasn't so unreliable, we wouldn't be in these messes. Or do you need Daddy Odin to give you some pointers on how to actually be useful?"

Loki's eyes flare with fury, and in no time he grabs your neck once again and strides into the elevator, pinning your head to the panels. His body pressed against yours with a force that left little room for doubt about his intensity.

His frame, tall and lean yet undeniably strong, exerting a commanding presence as he pins you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill of the metal against your cheek. 

He was so close to you, you could smell his sultry, intoxicating smell on him.

"You think my magic is useless, don’t you..." He whispers, his breath ghosting on your skin. "I’ll make sure you regret saying that."

"I don't "think", it's a fact." You try to push him back with your elbow. “Let me go, Loki.” You say it firmly. 

"Not yet, vixen." He says so, and the elevator doors shut by themselves. And with one flick of his fingers, the front chain of your tight leather suit yanked open down to the end of your belly.

Did he just–

"I’ll make sure to demonstrate how useful my magic can be." He says and looks down to notice you were not even wearing a bra underneath.

He grins at the sight, licking his lower lip. "Naughty girl." He coos in your ear while his fingers work their way to your belly. 

His fingers, though possessing a hint of coldness at first, quickly warmed against your skin as they made contact with your belly. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire that danced just beneath the surface. 

"Let. Me. Go." You say, trying to stand your ground, but your attempts are futile. 

"Told you no, darling." He says while his fingers trailed up to your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rose in their wake.

It was a sensation that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his touch. 

He slides down your suit from your shoulders, proceeding with a graze of his tongue on your skin. 

"Mmm…sweet," he murmurs, sucking on your shoulder, "unlike those words you use."

"FUCK. YOU." You reply with a gruff.

Loki chuckles darkly against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Oh, darling, you will," he murmurs, his voice dripping with seductive menace. "But not before I teach you to respect a God."

He pulls down your suit lower, his lips kissing the back of your neck, followed by melty little kisses down your bareback. Despite your discontent, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by him.

As Loki pushes down your suit to your thighs, his eyes catch sight of a small tattoo etched on the inside of your thigh. The ink reads the name of your ex-boyfriend. Loki's eyes darken with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness. 

He paused, his brows furrowing as he read the name inked there. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So that’s what your little skirt was hinting at the meeting a few days ago..."

He traced the tattoo lightly with his finger, sending a shiver through your body.

So this bastard was always watching you?

You grit your teeth, anger and embarrassment flushing through you. "It’s none of your business, Loki."

He tightens his grip on your neck slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his dominance. "I know."

"But this mark... it irks me. An insignificant mortal claiming a part of you." He pinches your thigh, and you try to jerk away your leg but cannot. 

You squirmed against his grip, but he held you firmly, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into yours. "Let it go, Loki," you demanded, trying to maintain your composure.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the tattoo. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Why should I let some forgotten lover's mark go unchallenged?"

He gives you a rather harsh bite on your shoulder, trailing his lips to kiss your neck, which makes you whimper, which makes him grin.

He pulls away a bit, and with the flick of his wrists, an invisible force pins your arms above your head, securing you in place against the elevator wall. You struggle briefly, but the bonds hold firm. Loki steps back, his eyes raking over your exposed form with a predatory gaze.

Before you could retort, he bent down, turning his body against the elevator and facing you from below. He kissed the tattoo with deliberate slowness, his lips soft and maddeningly sensual.

The act was both possessive and teasing, with his tongue swirling repeatedly on the same spot that was making you crazy. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and a part of you hated how your body responded to his touch. 

"Shh, people can still hear us, darling. Even if they cannot enter." He says placing pecks up and down your thigh, evaporating your steady facade away.

"Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and exposing you completely.

You saw his eyes almost sparkle at the sight, placing a kiss on your mound, making you flinch against the metal. Where and when did your suit disappear? You didn’t know.

He leans close and starts exploring your already wet clit with his tongue. Holding your waist in his hands, he kept stealing glances up at your aroused form, watching your expressions while you gasped every time his warm tongue darted on your needy pussy.

The god had a talent for his tongue. The silver tongue. 

"Are you still with him?" He murmured, pulling away his face from your pussy, making you let out a complaining whine.

He holds up his two fingers to caress your folds. "Answer."

"N-no…" You answer, your voice quivering in pleasure.

"Then why isn’t it off?" He says this, glancing at your tattoo.

"I never…Loki-"

He pushes two fingers in. "You never what?"

You shudder as Loki's fingers push inside you, his question hanging in the air, demanding an answer. Your mind races, caught between the intense pleasure and the need to explain yourself.

"I never... had the chance," you manage to gasp, your voice barely steady. "It didn't mean anything anymore. I just...fuck-forgot about it."

Loki's eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face, his fingers moving slowly inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes coherent thoughts nearly impossible. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

"Forgot about it?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Or perhaps you wanted a reminder of something you couldn't let go?" 

"No…" You moan, writhing against the panel with your hands above your head, your fingers aching to dive into his hair. 

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You squirm, your faint moans echoing the elevator.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Because I don't share, darling. And I don't like to be reminded of what once was."

You moan, your body arching against his touch. His words send a thrill through you, and the possessiveness in his tone both intimidating and exhilarating.

"You know I can just turn you into a pretty mannequin for me so I can do whatever I want with you…but I want to feel you squirm... to mewl... like a little prey." He says watching your face while feeling your pussy start to clench around his fingers.

"Now, let's make sure you never forget who you belong to, hm?" Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your thigh as he speaks. His mouth returns to your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless intensity that drives you wild. 

"Yeah, that’s right, just keep on making those little sounds for me." He says it with a satisfied smile curling on his lips, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor. 

The combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your clit sends you spiralling into a mind-shattering orgasm, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Loki slowly withdraws his fingers. He stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He releases your binds away and turns you to him, and his thumb caresses your lower lip as if studying it for a second before he holds you against the wall, cupping your cheek, and kisses you almost fiercely. 

And gosh, you needed that. You needed that and more.

"Y/n, is that you?"

Both of you freeze to your seats when you hear Thor’s voice outside the elevator. 

Loki's eyes narrow in annoyance, and he quickly glances towards the elevator doors. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"

He continues exploring your mouth, and the kisses start spreading to your neck, tongue, and teeth, making their wild appearances every once in a while. 

Until you couldn’t help it and let out a moan.

"This door is not openi- Y/n??" Thor repeats again. "Wait, let me call Stark.-" 

Your heart races when Thor calls out again because of your moan. Loki’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away. "Are you doing this on purpose? Just another one of your games so we can get caught and you can have your fun?"

He gives your pussy a little slap, and you whine a no. 

In a swift motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You barely have time to register the shift before the air around you shimmers and the familiar confines of the elevator vanish, replaced by the opulent and dimly lit interior of a room unknown to you.

The room is a stark contrast to the sterile metal of the elevator. Rich tapestries line the walls, and candles flicker, casting a warm, golden glow. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, its dark, luxurious linens inviting in a way that makes your heart race. 

Loki wastes no time. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed with an urgency that sends a thrill through you. He lays you down gently, his gaze intense as he takes in your still-naked form. His hands trace over your skin, as if committing every inch to memory. 

The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Loki—intoxicating and alluring. "Now, where were we?" He purrs, his fingers tracing a delicate line down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You can barely catch your breath; the intensity of the moment overwhelming. "Loki, what if Thor—"

"Thor won't find us," Loki interrupts, his voice a low growl. "This is my domain. No one enters without my permission."

"Now," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, "let us continue our little magic demonstration." 

The silken sheets cool against your heated skin, and with Loki's hands everywhere—caressing, teasing, exploring every inch of your body—his touch both gentle and demanding, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

"So beautiful," his voice dripping with seductive menace as he conjures a binding spell that secures your wrists to the bedposts. 

You gasp, your body arching against the restraints, as Loki's mouth finds your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples with maddening precision. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind is lost in a haze of pleasure and need. 

Loki's mouth moves with deliberate precision, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over your breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you arch and writhe against the silken sheets. The restraints on your wrists keep you firmly in place.

"Loki…"

"Mhm," he hums, enjoying your squirms. But he wanted more.

He uses his powers to amplify his touch, making your nerve endings sing with heightened sensitivity. You gasp and moan, the intensity of his magic overwhelming your senses.

You can feel the magic pulsating through you, heightening your awareness of every touch and every kiss. His lips move from your breasts to the sensitive skin just below, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The combination of his mouth and his magic almost too much to bear.

His free hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. As his fingers reach your inner thighs, you feel a new surge of his magic, more potent and concentrated. It wraps around your thighs, making your muscles quiver with anticipation.

Loki conjures small, delicate tendrils of magic that wrap around your nipples, gently tugging and twisting. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before—a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath. 

He moves lower, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your belly. The tendrils of magic follow his path, amplifying every sensation, making you feel as if your skin is on fire. You can barely think or breathe; your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

As he reaches your hips, his fingers part your folds, and you feel a rush of cool air against your wetness. His mouth hovers just above your clit, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

"Tell me, darling," Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot, "how does it feel to be at the mercy of a god?"

Before you can answer, his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit with delicate, precise strokes. His magic enhances every touch, making you moan and writhe against the restraints. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. 

"Loki I-" He sees your upcoming orgasm and pulls away quickly, enjoying your needy, complaining moan for him.

"Not so easy, darling."

And with another display of his magic, he completely gets rid of his clothes, his disrobed body turning you on even more, the heat of need between your legs almost unbearable.

He brings his already-hard cock near your lips. "Kiss it." and you do, the light hum of satisfaction he makes making you want to absolutely suck him out rather than just a little kiss.

"My filthy little vixen," he says, eyes blazing with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through you, "get ready for your god."

He lets out a low growl, a dark and seductive sound, before slowly pushing into you, his length stretching and filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, with every inch of him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You feel so perfect," Loki murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Every part of you was made just for me."

He begins to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and controlled. Each motion designed to draw out the maximum pleasure to make you feel every inch of him. The binding spell keeps your wrists secured to the bedposts, preventing you from reaching out to touch him, to claw at his back as the pleasure intensifies.

Loki's eyes never leave yours, the connection between you palpable and electric. He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts. You respond eagerly, your moans muffled against his lips, your body arching to meet his. 

His magic continues to amplify every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive, every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you. The tendrils of magic around your nipples tighten and twist, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"Loki," you gasp, barely able to form coherent words. "I can't... it's too much..."

He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. "You can take it, darling. You will take it. You will take everything I give you."

His pace quickens, and his thrusts become more urgent and more demanding. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and the wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving together. The pleasure builds rapidly, creating a coiling heat in your belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

Loki's hand moves between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. The additional stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Come for me, darling," Loki commands, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come for your god."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless and shaking. The pleasure is overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Loki continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, his own release imminent. His movements become erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own climax.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he finally lets go, his own orgasm ripping through him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his groan of pleasure vibrating through your body. He collapses on top of you, his weight comforting and grounding as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Loki's hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure. 

"Fuck, you drive me wild." He murmurs breathlessly. 

"Did you like that, darling?" Loki murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr. "My magic can do so much more." 

You breathlessly chuckle while he traces patterns on your skin. His fingers caress down to your thigh, where he glances at your tattoo.

"We can’t have that." He says in a low voice and grazes his hand over your skin, and the tattoo vanishes.  Loki’s touch lingers on your thigh where the tattoo once was, his magic leaving your skin smooth and unmarked.

"And now you’re mine."

┈➤ Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭

[bcksbarnes]

hearts on fire

pairing: au!bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: in an alternate universe, bucky never falls to his death and instead is with steve rogers when the plane crashes to destroy hydra's base. decades later they are found and bucky is an original member of the avengers. his only problem besides adjusting to the new century? he can't help but mercilessly flirt with his teammate.

word count: 2.7K

a/n: based on this request!

Living in close quarters with your co-workers everyday would be most people’s idea of hell. For you? It was a part of the job, a requirement really. Luckily, the compound was spacious enough where most days you could get some peace and quiet, but on mission days … it was usually quite the shit show.

You were sitting in the lounge, it was your hideaway. There was something about it that made you feel at ease. Maybe it was the way your body sunk into the dark brown leather couch after a long night or the way the fireplace was always on, illuminating the dark grey walls. Regardless, it was your haven. 

“You’re needed,” a voice calls out to you, interrupting your peace and quiet.

Your head looks up from the book you’re reading to catch the eye of Bucky Barnes, your teammate and the permanent pain in your ass.

He’s leaning against the entrance to the room, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk on his features as he watches you. There always seemed to be a fire in his eyes that only ignited when he looked at you.

“By who?” you ask, placing the bookmark in the page before letting the cover fall close.

“By me,” he responds back, sending you a wink.

You can’t help but roll your eyes in response, that was his usual move with you, flirting relentlessly to see you get all flustered. He may have missed decades of his life frozen in ice, but it was actually quite remarkable how good he still was at it. 

Standing from the couch, you take a few steps forward towards him, Bucky’s eyes never straying from you as you do. Actually, it only makes him stand straighter, flexing his arm muscles hoping to impress you. The veins popping on either arm, his shirt sleeves rising a bit from the tension. Bucky loved the attention.

“For what, Barnes?” 

He hummed in response, licking his bottom lip as his mind filled with all the ways that he really could��use your help. You playfully shove his shoulder when you realize that’s what he’s thinking about.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he protests.

“You didn’t have to. I know what goes on in that big head of yours,” you tease.

Bucky’s laugh fills the air, his eyes crinkling at the edges that make you melt a bit on the inside. As much as you hated to admit it, you did have a bit of a crush on Bucky, though you tried to keep your work separate from your personal life. Even if living in the tower tended to muddle that line.

“Jerk,” he mutters. “Okay, seriously … Steve’s calling a meeting in the briefing room. Asked me if I’d come get you.”

“Let me guess, you couldn’t say no, could you?”

“And miss out on such a beautiful sight?” His eyes wander over you again before settling on your gaze. “Absolutely not.”

You do everything you can to stop the blush from sinking into your cheeks, your face suddenly hot. When you can't, you dip your head down and brush past Bucky, your shoulder accidentally colliding with his as you make your swift exit.

There’s a haze around you as you make your way down the hallway, the grey walls blurred, trying to ignore the way your body feels after that conversation. Both full of want and completely confused; that seemed to be normal when talking to him. Bucky had a way of getting under your skin that was hard to ignore, especially with that stupid smile of his. 

It takes a moment but he follows after you, the sound of his footsteps against the tile floor as he keeps his eyes trained on your back. You were too good of a sight to let go of.

The briefing room is mostly full by the time you arrive. The team had picked a random office to hold as the formal briefing space, boxes still scattered around as the team tried to make it feel less like a boardroom and more of a place where important world-saving-issues were discussed.

Bruce is sitting in the corner, his glasses low on his nose as he types on his computer, Tony and Steve arguing at the front of the room, Clint muttering something to Natasha - whose arms are crossed over her chest and her eyebrows seem to raise as you and Bucky enter the room only seconds apart.

“Shut up,” you mumble to her as you take a seat next to her.

“I didn’t say anything.” Her voice is quiet and oozing with sarcasm, the smirk on her lips enough to make you want to roll your eyes, but you control yourself.

“He just came to find me. That’s all.”

Natasha hums in response, turning to watch the man that followed you.

Bucky sits away from you, which is a blessing in disguise because the last thing you needed was a distraction. These missions were important and you didn’t need Bucky making googly eyes at you the entire time to undermine your need to understand the assignment.

“He’s staring, you know,” Nat says, her head now looking straight ahead at Tony and Steve who were getting more and more into it.

“I don’t care.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Nat calls you out before continuing. “Besides, what’s the harm? He’s cute.”

You swallow at her words, obviously he was cute, but you didn’t have time for that right now. Not when the Avengers initiative was still so new, not when there were so many threats in the world. 

“He follows me around like a lost dog, like he’s waiting for me to look in his direction,” you reply, though you’re not entirely convinced that’s the reason you won’t give him the time of day.

“Oh poor you. Handsome super soldier who would do anything for you, it must be super hard.”

Before you can respond, Tony claps his hands together to start the meeting.

You kept your attention ahead, although you did find yourself sneaking a few glances at Bucky a few times. When he was paying close attention his jaw would flex and his fingers would drum on the table. You never realized how long his fingers were –

Focus.

The briefing was quick but thorough. There’s a small group of ex-SHIELD members who have been robbing high level tech out of ammunition depots around the country, they strike late into the night and leave no traces behind. The whole team, minus Bruce and Thor, would be stationed at what is assumed to be the next, and final, depot waiting to ambush the group.

Sounded easy enough.

The artillery room was always the last place the team stopped at before making their way to the quinjet, it was where all the gear needed for the mission was stored; behind locked cabinets and drawers with combinations. 

Not everyone was Tony Stark and had their suit in the palm of their hands.

Zipping up your vest, you make a mental note of everything you had on you and what you still needed to grab, mumbling under your breath as you try to remember.

“Gun, knife, ammo …” you repeat to yourself, nodding your head along with your words.

“Wanna make a bet?” 

Bucky’s voice breaks through your checklist causing you to look over at him, watching as tightens his utility belt around his waist. You can’t say you’re not intrigued at both the sight and his offer.

“Depends,” you grab the gun in front of you, inspecting it. “What’s the bet?”

“If we can neutralize this group in less than an hour, you’ll finally let me take you out.” 

The words come out of him so easily that you’re taken aback. Your hand freezes on the gun for a half second but you try to quickly recover, not wanting to show him how his words affect you. Your eyes stay locked ahead, though you can see him smirking down at you in the corner of your eye.

“And if we don’t?”

He considers your words as he loads his utility belt, grabbing his signature switchblade and opening and closing it absentmindedly as he tries to think of a good enough counter to his side of the bet.

“If we don’t … then I’ll let you pick my training out for the next month.”

“Two months.”

“Deal.”

You load your gun into your own utility belt before turning towards Bucky, your hand shutting the locker door in one swift movement. He towers over you in a way that makes your head dizzy and your pulse race. You hate how that shit eating grin on his face is purposeful.

“Hope your super soldier stamina can keep up for when I win.”

Bucky chuckles as he flips the knife in his hand, the metal blade twinkling in the dim light in the room as it closes shut mid-air so he can safely catch it and place it in his utility belt. Leaning down, his lips right next to your ear. 

“Make sure you’re ready at six, I have somewhere special in mind for us,” he whispers.

He bumps past you the same way you did on the way to the briefing and it leaves you stunned into silence. You’re almost positive there’s a spark of electricity that goes through your body. 

Sure, he was a flirt and always had been when it came to you, as if it was just in his nature - but it seemed like he had picked up more steam recently. Like he couldn’t help himself.

You take a deep breath. You needed to focus. You couldn’t be this flustered.

Turning on your heels you follow Bucky and the rest of the crew onto the jet. It would take just under two hours to get to the location. Enough time to get you into the zone and focused on the mission at hand.

Not on Bucky.

Not on the way that he kept talking to Clint but making eyes over at you.

Not on how you were almost positive you heard him say your name.

Absolutely not. It was time to get shit done.

The depot was a giant warehouse in the middle of nowhere, hidden by a deep forest, which meant that most people wouldn’t stumble upon it unless they were looking for it. 

Inside were crates of weapons, tech, plans - basically anything you could think of that would help build an empire - stacked as high as the eye could see. It was slightly cold and damp, but temperature never affected the way the Avengers worked. And for you? It helped cool you down since all you could think about was Bucky’s lips next to your ears

Steve was stationed with his shield in the front of the building, Tony surrounded the perimeter from above which left Nat, Clint, Bucky and yourself all patrolling some area of the warehouse. Sprawled out to cover more area.

You kept your hand on your belt as you waited to hear any clearance from the team. When you looked to your right you could see Bucky at the other end of the room, his finger tapping his watch. 

The timer had started.

And judging from the disgruntled sounds of Steve and Tony ringing in your earpiece.

So had the fight.

Truthfully, when the brief was read you didn’t think it would take longer than an hour, but you were shocked by how fast the team was able to dismantle the group. Thirty seven minutes and twenty five seconds according to Bucky’s timer, which he made sure to promptly show you the moment the team stepped back onto the jet.

He was breathing heavily, covered in a thin layer of sweat as he beelined his way over to you, his chest rapidly rising and falling. It was distracting how good he looked as if the world seemed to zero in on him for a moment. 

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, it was short but somehow still tidy despite the mess everyone was caught in. His face was clean shaven and a bead ran down the side of his face, almost as if to mock you.

“Told you,” he muttered, elbowing you playfully.

“Damn, I was really looking forward to torturing you too.”

There’s that twinkle in his eye again when he looks at you, one that makes you feel like maybe the galaxy was created there. 

“I know the idea of staring at me shirtless and sweaty is tempting, but I won.”

“Remember what I said earlier today about you having a big head?” you tease.

“I remember everything you say,” he replies, as if it’s the most normal statement he could make.

You decide to ignore him and take a seat, grabbing a water bottle for the both of you as you do. Handing it over, your fingers brush lightly but enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Quickly, you uncap the bottle and down the contents inside, trying not to pay close attention to how close the two of you were when seated; the way your thighs are touching, or how, you could hear him gulping down the water. 

The rest of the flight was quiet, it was early in the morning. The windows showed the beginnings of a light blue sky, sprinkled in with some dark purples from the fading night. 

All you could think about was sleep. And this date that Bucky had won fair and square, but sleep first. 

The exhaustion was seeping into your bones, your eyes could barely stay open as the adrenaline started to fade. Bucky was absentmindedly playing with a strand on his vest, his mind working in overdrive as if he was nervous - which he rarely, if ever, was.

“Cat got your tongue, Barnes?”

“You’ve got my heart, is that the same thing?”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you mutter, shaking your head. “Do you happen to flirt as often as you breathe?”

“I can’t help it,” he holds his hands up in defense, though it’s clear he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong … which he really hasn’t. “You intrigue me.”

Your eyes are still heavy as you look up at him, drooping slightly as you let out a yawn, but you won’t deny that it feels good to be wanted, even if it was a game of cat and mouse most of the time. Though now you’d have to admit to Nat that you accepted this date and that she was, ultimately, correct.

“How so?”

Bucky searches your features for a moment, biting down on his bottom lip as if he was deep in thought. And he was, about you. About all the ways he wanted to get to know you. About all the ways you make him feel like he’s floating on air. 

He had a new profound look on life since being found in the ice, he wasn’t going to let time slip past him again.

“I don’t know …” his voice is delicate as he speaks. “Something about those eyes.”

The blush that you so desperately tried to resist all day creeps its way back onto your features. There’s a need in the air to say something - anything , but the jet is lowering and you know you’re almost back at the tower. 

Sleep is finally within reach.

“Mmm,” you half moan, half hum as you stand, stretching your back out. “These eyes have to go to sleep.”

The jet docks and the ramp opens allowing you to finally allow the crew to disembark. Bucky watches you carefully, making sure you’re okay as you begin to follow the crowd.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls out, still sitting in the seat you left him in. “Maybe you’ll see me there.”

You don’t look back, but your heart beats a bit faster with each passing second as you make your way back to your room. A quick shower and change is over in a blink of an eye, settling down into the bed to sleep soundly. 

You do, in fact, dream of Bucky.

You thought about him before your eyes were even closed.

You would think about him again when you woke later that afternoon; waiting patiently for six o’clock to come.

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question.  He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.  

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[buckysleftbicep]

letters though time (3) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: 1940s!bucky barnes x modern!fem!reader

warnings: angst.

summary: you find a letter from 1944 hidden in the old brooklyn apartment you moved signed by one james buchanan barnes. you write back, he did too, and somehow, across decades, you both fall in love.

word count: 1.5k

author's note: i love this chapter so much. please leave some feedback or a reblog if you enjoyed it! i tend to forget about tags, please be patient with me, thank you loves. stay safe out there!

series masterlist

You reread his letter so many times the edges began to curl.

He was leaving.

You stared at the letter in your hands, heart pounding like it was trying to outrun history. The words blurred at the edges, but you didn’t need to read them again. You already knew.

You knew the date, April 8th, 1944, etched into your memory long before his handwriting ever reached you. You had seen it in textbooks, beneath faded photographs, on a bronze plaque mounted inside the Smithsonian: Sergeant James Barnes, deployed with Captain Steve Rogers to intercept a HYDRA transport in the Austrian Alps.

You knew that mission. Everyone did.

It was the one where he fell. Where the world believed he died.

Except he didn’t.

You knew what came after, how HYDRA had found him in the wreckage and broken him in ways no one should ever be broken.

How their scientists, cruel and methodical, stripped him down to nothing. Rewrote him. Erased him. Until all that remained was a killing machine, sharp and merciless, a ghost with a metal arm and no name.

When you first started working at the museum, you had gone down that rabbit hole, read every article, studied every declassified file, perhaps even the ones you were specifically told not to read.

You had seen the stills, the grainy footage, the Winter Soldier moving like a machine, swift and ruthless, with eyes that held no trace of the man writing you these letters now. The man you had fallen in love with.

And now he was writing to you, sweet, hopeful, himself, without knowing what awaited him on the other side of that mission.

You gripped the letter until your knuckles turned white, heart lodged so high in your throat you could barely breathe. You blinked, hoping the words would change. That maybe this letter would say he wasn’t going, that he had changed his mind. That somehow, knowing you, and perhaps falling for you had altered the path of fate.

But the words stayed the same.

And so did history.

Please wait for me.

Your chest felt too tight to breathe.

You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn't.

You sat on the floor beside the cabinet, the old walnut drawer yawning open, its linen lining wrinkled and worn from too many anxious, trembling hands.

His letters were everywhere, scattered like fallen leaves around you. Pages upon pages, thick with ink and hope, with quiet jokes, whispered dreams, and all the soft, unspoken pieces of him that had stitched themselves gently into your heart.

And now history was threatening to take him away.

You couldn’t stop pacing the next morning.

Couldn’t stop chewing at your bottom lip, eyes flicking toward the drawer every five minutes like it would somehow answer you.

When the next letter came, you nearly dropped it from the tremor in your fingers.

April 1st, 1944 Sweetheart, You’ve gone quiet. Did I say something wrong? I hope I didn’t scare you with what I wrote. I just… I need you to know I’m serious. About all of this. About you. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Falling for someone through paper and time. But I have. I’ve fallen for you. And maybe it’s selfish, but I hope you feel the same. I’ll write again tomorrow. Just… say something, will you? Please. Always, James

You sat down that instant and scribbled out a reply with shaking hands.

Bucky, Please don’t go on this mission. I know that sounds ridiculous. I know you can’t just walk away from orders. But something terrible is going to happen. I can’t tell you how I know, it would change too much, but please… don’t go on this mission. You won’t come back the same. If you do come back at all. Please, just trust me. Please.

You folded the letter with trembling fingers and tucked it into the drawer.

So you waited. And waited.

But no letter came the next day. Or the one after that. Or the day after that.

The silence grew heavy, pressing. Like the space between heartbeats stretched too far apart.

By the fourth day, the ache settled deep in your chest—sharp and constant, like something vital was missing. You kept his photo tucked in your wallet, pulling it out so often the edges had started to wear.

You stared at it until the ink blurred behind tears you refused to wipe away. You paced the apartment like a ghost in your own life, whispering his name into the quiet, as if somehow, just somehow, it might find Bucky. Might bring him back.

On the fifth day, you found a letter.

But the paper wasn’t soft with affection, it was creased, angry.

April 4th, 1944 (Y/N), You ask me to trust you, but you won’t trust me to finish this mission. You want me to believe you, about this, about danger, but you won’t say why. Won’t explain. You just beg me not to go. You say I won’t come back the same. That I might not come back at all. Do you know how that feels to read? Like you’ve already written my end for me. Is this all just a game to you? Some story you’re writing? Because it stopped feeling like fiction to me a long time ago. I care about you. I’ve trusted you with more of myself than anyone else in years. And now I don’t know what to think. I need time. - J

You stared at the letter for a long time.

Then you sank to the floor, hands cradling your head.

Tears slipped down your cheeks soundlessly. You didn’t blame him. Not really. You couldn’t explain how you knew what was coming. No, you couldn’t tell him he’d be taken, tortured, frozen. You couldn't tell him that his future was a blur of blood and silence and death.

You couldn’t say it without breaking something sacred.

But still, it hurt. god, it hurt.

You didn’t write back. Not right away.

You told yourself he needed space. That maybe he would feel your silence and understand it wasn’t anger, it was fear. A fear too heavy to put into words.

You wanted to give him time. But you didn’t realise just how little time he had left.

Four days passed. Each one sharp around the edges, like they had been carved from glass. Fragile and ready to shatter.

And still...no letter.

And then, on the morning of April 8th, you opened the drawer and found his letter.

Your breath hitched before you even touched it.

The envelope was different. Heavier. The paper thicker than usual.

You unfolded it with trembling fingers.

April 8th, 1944 Doll, We leave for Germany in a few hours. I couldn’t go without writing you one last time. I didn’t want things to end on anger. I’m sorry I pushed you. I just...it scared me, that’s all. The way you spoke like you knew what would happen, I was shaken, and I don’t like feeling helpless. But I trust you. I do. I told Howard what you said. I didn’t give him details, just that someone I cared about, someone important, warned me something could go wrong. He seemed to believe me, said that maybe time’s not as solid as we think. He told me he’s been working on something. Said he might have a way to pull me through. So if I make it back, if I survive, maybe there’s a chance we would meet. I'll find you. Please wait for me, (Y/N). And if nothing else, just know this, I love you. Always yours, James

You folded the letter in silence, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. The ache in your chest made it hard to sit upright, let alone think.

Your hands trembled as you reached for paper, fingers cold and clumsy around the pen. You didn’t write paragraphs, didn’t spill your heart across the page in desperate, sprawling confessions.

There was nothing left to say that could rewrite history. So instead, you wrote only three words, quiet, aching, infinite. Words that had lived in your chest for weeks. Words that felt both like a promise and a goodbye.

I love you.

You placed it in the drawer, fingertips lingering on the edge like a goodbye you weren’t ready to give. The paper felt heavier than it should’ve, like it carried every unspoken word you hadn’t dared to write.

You closed the drawer gently, too gently, like slamming it might break something irreparable.

And that was the last time.

You never got another letter again.

For days afterward, you couldn’t bring yourself to touch it. Couldn’t even glance at the cabinet without that familiar sting behind your eyes, without your chest tightening like your ribs were trying to hold something broken together.

The silence wasn’t just quiet, it was cruel. Loud in its finality.

You told yourself maybe tomorrow. Maybe the drawer would open and there would be something waiting. Another slanted signature. Another piece of him.

But there was nothing.

And eventually, the ache settled in deep, bone-deep, the kind of grief that didn’t scream but pressed down slowly. You found yourself avoiding the cabinet altogether, skirting around it like it might hurt you if you got too close.

You stopped checking.

Stopped hoping.

Because it felt like mourning someone who hadn’t died, but who had still somehow left you behind.

a/n: i hope you love this chapter as much as i did! thank you for stopping by!

taglist: @ndanddnd @darling-eos @alikkatz @creepybake @maryssong23 @mgchaser @hiraethmae @coffeecigsandcommentary @iyskgd @silverdoragon @lori19 @counterstr1ke @cyberxlust @throwmethroughawindow @keira-kaz2y5

[ramp-it-up]

Mood

Call Me Captain When I…| Captain. My Captain

Summary: You and Steve were “special” friends. Until something that happens on one of your training missions puts Steve into a mood.

Word count: 2.7K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of hurt, ambush, implied assualt. Angsty, moody Steve, Steve with the urge to kill for you, possessive Steve, Steve pining for reader, idiots in love, Dom Steve, fuck buddies to relationship, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, dirty talk, edging (but not quite), begging, body worship, nipple play, raw p in v, female receiving oral, emotional sex.

A/N: This can be seen as adjacent to the fic Call Me Captain When I..., but can be read as a stand alone. I was in a mood when I wrote it, so here we are.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

NOTICE: I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

After you checked yourself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders, Steve Rogers steamed as he waited for you to get out of the shower. He wanted to be in there with you, but decided to give you some space, and give him some time to cool down.

The fact that you were standing at the visitor’s entrance, in your hospital gown and combat boots as he drove up to sit with you, was the latest thing to get him riled up.

When he saw you, he parked in the fire lane and got out of his car, hands on his hips as he questioned you.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

He eyed the bandage on your forehead and the one on your cheek, fingers trembling as he brushed his thumb over your bruised face.

The rage had not subsided for him over the past three days. 

Even after he and Sam beat the medivac to the scene and transported you to the best ER in the area.

Even after he was assured that you were ok by the doctors at the hospital. 

Even after you protested that he was overreacting when he set up a security detail at your door headed by Sam. 

Even after he’d found who did this to you and… well, seeing you bruised countenance again reignited his emotions.

He wondered how you got around Sam who was posted up. But then, your cunning and skill was a big part of how he felt about you. So was your kindness, intelligence, and beauty.

But you didn’t know exactly how Steve felt about you. And perhaps he didn’t either. Until you were ambushed on a routine training mission with your troops.

You lifted your chin and squared your shoulders as Steve shook his head. 

“I’m fine, Captain. I want to go home. I’ve been in the hospital for four days. And on the training mission for 10 days before that. I was due to be discharged in the morning anyway.”

You looked up at Steve. He couldn’t resist those eyes.

“I want to rot on my couch, sleep in my own bed.”

Steve grunted his assent, although the thin line of his lips indicated his displeasure with you.

“How’s your head feel?”

You met his eyes and focused, if only to prove how healthy you were.

“I’m fine, Steve. I just want to go home.”

Steve stared at you, wanting to just take you into his arms, but not doing it. Then, he stared around the parking lot, scanning the perimeter for anyone watching.

“Get in.”

He moved next to you and picked up the plastic bag that had your belongings in it, and put his hand on your back to guide you toward the sportscar.

“But my ride...”

Steve looked down at you as his jaw clenched, the blue fire in his eyes threatening to burn you.

“Get in before I take you over to that bench and spank the hell out of you, Lieutenant.”

You swallowed a gasp and grew warm at the threat.

“Yes Sir.”

You climbed into the passenger seat and sat back as Steve buckled you in, then waved at Sam, who’d come running out of the hospital just as Steve drove away.

You were along for the ride of this mood of your superior, friend, and fuck buddy Captain America, Steve Rogers.

—-

You stood before Steve, wrapped up in your soft, fluffy white robe that he had put into the dryer to warm up and left on the hook on the door of the shower. It was such a sweet gesture that contrasted his cold, harsh demeanor on the way to your place.

You felt as if you were about to be punished, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted. And just a little bit spooked. But that last part was lessened, because Steve was with you here in your quarters. You looked at him, wanting to ask him to stay, but you didn’t.

Steve stalked toward you, and you noticed that he was barefoot, which seemed to indicate that he wasn’t going anywhere soon. You smiled as you dragged your weary eyes up to his face. You decided to go for it.

“Are you staying?”

Steve grunted at you again.

“Just try and get me to leave you alone.”

His deep bass rumbled through you, and you whimpered, despite the fact that he wasn’t even touching you. Something seemed off as he moved toward you, pulling you closer by the tie on your robe.

“I’ve been riding on the edge of insanity ever since that day.”

Steve’s hand was in your hair, gently massaging the exposed scalp between your braids as his eyes took careful stock of your face.

You were shook.

“I’m okay, Steve.”

“I’ve got to see for myself.”

All he wanted to do was to take inventory of you, his rough fingers moving over every inch of your naked body to make sure that every bit of you was okay. He’d almost lost you and was experiencing an almost feral urge to consume you. You could feel the guilt radiating off him.

“Steve. No one could have known. Shit, I’m head of intelligence and I didn’t know.…”

Steve put his finger to his lips, and then yours. He gently stroked your cheek as he kissed you tenderly, carefully.

“Why do you always taste so good? Like you smell. Like sweet coconut…”

He leaned in to kiss you again, groaning as every gentle stroke of his tongue was met with a bolder one of yours. The passion increased until he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. You could tell that he was holding back. 

What was wrong with him?

“I know that no one could have known that the mission was a trap. But I feel like I should have.”

His hands moved from your neck, to your torso, down your belly, to the juncture of your thighs. He was sitting on your bed as you stood before him, warmed by the shower, but goosebumps raised on your flesh and your nipples formed into tight peaks as he examined you.

“I’ve never felt the urge to kill as much as I did when I tracked them down. It only took a day and a half to find them, and then a day and a half to get close enough to… “

Steve stopped short of revealing what happened to the people who hurt you and just looked into your eyes. The fury you saw as he looked up at you was chilling, yet arousing. You wanted to ask what he did to them, but you couldn’t. You just looked at his hands to find evidence that you knew wouldn’t be there because of his super soldier healing.

“Steve?”

He didn’t respond to you, just continued to stare at your most intimate parts.

“Captain-”

He looked up at you then.

“What I said at the hospital earlier. I-I have a serious desire to give you a good and proper spanking for almost losing your life, although it wasn’t your fault.”

You started to laugh, but he was serious. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

“I can’t give you up. I can’t.”

You shook your head.

“Steve, I’m fine-”

He pulled you to him by your thighs, his large hands grabbing you, gently but firmly, and bringing your crotch close to his mouth. He looked back up at you.

“I know we’ve never talked about this, but…You are my anchor.”

You ran your hands through his hair as his breath tickled your clit.

“I had the barest control while Sam and I were flying to get you, and only a small bit more when I learned you were okay. And now I have to verify that you are ‘fine,’ as you say. I need to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own hands, taste it ….”

The unspoken part of that statement caused you to shudder as he went back to examining you, His hands moving down your legs, while listening for any sounds of discomfort from you as his skin slid along yours with a gentle but firm pressure, then standing up and depositing you on the bed as he examined you to the soles of your feet.

He placed one of your feet on his pelvis, next to what you’d discovered was his rock hard cock housed in his jeans, and one foot in his hand, beginning to massage it. Steve knew how a sensual foot massage made you wet. He grunted in response to your whimpers, but only turned you over as he examined the back of you.

Steve palmed the globes of your ass and pulled them apart, and you could feel his eyes at the crease of you for a full minute. Then, his palms slid upwards to your spine, smoothing over each vertebrae as he moved up to the back of your neck.

He was on the bed now, between your legs, and pulled your hips up to meet him as he gently circled your neck with his fingers, bringing you up slightly as his other hand rolled and pinched your stiff nipples. 

“How do you feel?”

His gruff whisper, full of need and at the shell of your ear elicited a groan and caused you to roll your hips on his rock-hard erection.

“Steve.. I… Please!”

You incoherently pleaded for more as you moved against the stiff fabric of his jeans, making a mess there. Steve looked down and rolled his eyes, his hand rubbing your ass as his palm itched to smack it.

“Mmmmmm. You have no idea how much I want to give you this cock. But you need rest.”

You reached back and slapped your own ass, pulling on your asscheek to enable him to push deeper between your legs to feel how wet you were.

“We also need to talk…”

Steve shuddered at the sensation of you rutting against him, and with every gasp and moan from you his control was dwindling. 

“I need it Sir. Please, Captain…”

“Fuck. Maybe just one orgasm. Then you can rest.”

You leaned down to give him that arch and he licked his lips. His cock was in full control of him now.

“Best idea ever, Captain.”

His hand moved to your core, and his fingers were instantly soaked with your arousal.

“Jesus. Looks so good.”

Steve’s dick throbbed and he gritted his teeth against the wave of lust, yet he stood up and took off his own clothes. He watched your empty pussy clench around air and he had to taste it. The minute his lips were wrapped around your clit from behind was the moment you started keening for him.

“God, yes….right… fucking…right there!”

Steve carefully inserted a finger into your cunt as he suckled your clit, trying to be gentle. You bit your lip as he pulled off and started to withdraw his finger slowly.

“So soft for me. But so tight.”

He watched your face as he added another digit, causing your eyes to squeeze shut and your mouth to hinge open as you worked your hips on his hand for some relief.

Your eyes popped open and you blinked rapidly, but he didn’t speed up to the insistence of your hips. When he curved his fingers and found that bundle of nerves inside, pressing gently, you broke apart as he stroked over and over again.

 "I–God. I'm going…" 

You bowed your body, and Steve watched in awe while your pussy clamped around his fingers.

“Oh yeah. This was what I needed to see. Give it to me.”

Steve rolled his thumb over your clit to extend your orgasm. You open and completely out of control, with no thought of hurt or danger, was the sight that he loved.

 And he wanted to make you do it again and again.

“Jesus, you are beautiful. I want to...” 

He was fisting his cock and watching your wet, creamy folds as he squeezed your ass for a better view.

“Want more. Please!” 

“Hmmph,” He grunted. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

You leaned over again and presented yourself to him, giving him a view of your fingers working your clit and sliding inside yourself. 

“Fuck me, Captain. Please…”

Steve actually whimpered. His cock was drawn to you magnetically.

“Are you sure…?”

“Need it.” 

Steve cupped your ass harder and guided his cock to your slick, heated cunt and groaned.

“Oh shit. You fucking own me.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, and then you looked over your shoulder, locking onto his gaze. You relaxed, causing Steve to sink deeper inside you. You both hissed and Steve’s eyes closed. 

“I’m never leaving. Could stay inside you forever. Wanna see that beautiful face.”

Steve grabbed your leg and shifted you down and around, maneuvering you onto your back. His eyes raked up and down your form as his hands found your hips and drew you closer to him and his cock deep inside you again. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss as you arched your chest against his. 

You dug your nails into his shoulders, his name a chanted mantra between kisses. With each slide and retreat of his stiff cock in your slick channel, both of your groans got louder. Steve’s gaze occasionally dipped to where you were joined, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You arched your back again, and he dipped his head to draw one of your nipples into his mouth. 

"I. Yes. Harder. Oh God. Oh my God." 

Against your nipple he muttered, "Let me hear you. So good.”

But he didn’t fuck you harder like you asked. Your response was to tug on his hair, and Steve chuckled around the flesh of your breast. 

“I love the sounds you make.”

You moaned loudly, very wet now and very frustrated. The sound of the slick squelching of your act was such sinful music. Steve groaned, his jaw ticked tight from holding back.

“Please!”

But Steve just continued at the same languid pace.

“Later, when you’ve rested, I have plans for these babies,” Steve flattened his tongue and licked around both areolas. 

“Gonna lick, bite, kiss, fuck them. Be rough.”

You shuddered as he leaned up and blew on them, causing your nipples to draw up into hard peaks again and your pussy to shudder around him. Steve leaned up and stared at your breasts as they bounced with each thrust and he shook his head as his pace faltered. You clenched around him again and he spoke, his voice broken.

“I know you’re close. Feel so good around me.”

Steve looked into your eyes as he snapped his hips, and your mouth went wide again as he worked his hand between you and found your sensitive clit. 

Your eyes crossed as your slick walls clamped around his cock and milked him. 

"That's it. Cum for me. I'm so addicted to the sight." 

With three more pumps, Steve was coming apart, his control falling away. Another orgasm rolled through you and you tightened around him once more, causing a groan from Steve as you rode out the wave. 

“Holy fuck.” 

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he continued to thumb your clit. Good Lord, it was impossible to think at all when he did that. You were a whimpering mess as you begged him again.

“Please Captain. Give me your cum, Sir. Cum inside me.”

Steve buried his head in your shoulder as he sped up incrementally, his cursing muffled against your skin. You rolled your hips to meet him, making him groan again. You turned your head to bite, then whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna cum on your thick cock again. Just fuck me. A little harder. Just three more pumps and I’m there. Pretty please, Sir.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as Steve finally let go and gave you three hard, deep pumps, but as you predicted, he could not stop there.

Steve cursed and fucked you hard, stroking at the devil’s pace for at least a dozen more times, roaring as you stiffened and clamped down on his cock as you came.

“G-g-g-geeez! Fuck!”

Steve was a drooling, practically sobbing mess as the forcefull spray of his cum shot against your cervix, so much so that it leaked out almost immediately. Steve stopped and watched the sight, gasping, mouth open. Then, he looked back up at you.

“Everything about you, about us is so damn perfect. Especially this. We almost lost it. I love you, Libby.”

Your heart surged with emotion, finally understanding what had gotten into him.

“I love you too, Steve.”

You smiled and wiped the tears that were forming at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he softened inside you. 

“Shhhhh. Steve. It’s okay. I’m okay. Let’s take this one day at a time. Right now, we both need to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Steve nodded and sank down into your arms as you held onto your super soldier and rocked both of you to sleep.

——

Read Captain. My Captain.

If you liked it, hit Reblog! 😊

[kyotosworld]

just confess already!

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader 

summary: the team is sick of seeing how in love Steve and you are while you both pretend you’re just friends. 

(the office au: moments when the teams talks to the camera, like in the office)

warning: language, very cute confession at the end

word count: 1.3k

—

“..andd they’re doing it again,” bucky smirks at the camera before motioning it towards you and steve who were sitting way too closely for “friends”

you were both giggling and whispering about something he was showing you on his phone, before you noticed the camera and very badly tried to act normal by clearing your throat and refocusing on your computer.

steve’s brows furrowed for a second as he watched you leave, worried that he might have done something to upset you. before also realizing that the cameras were directed toward you both. leading him to return to his work in a similar clumsy manner as you.

steve could only hope that the camera didn’t catch how long and how longingly he looked at you after you left.

meanwhile, bucky was still smirking at the camera, “ you see what i mean?”

bucky of course was referring to the ongoing belief of everyone in the office—but you and steve—that you guys were dating.

—

“they need to confess already. i'm sick of the heart eyes,” natasha says before fake gagging. “but seriously, the only people they’re fooling are themselves.”

while natasha was talking to the camera, you and steve were in the office kitchen proving her exactly right. 

“have you heard the…rumors floating around the office?” you ask nervously, while holding a cold water bottle, and standing beside steve as he looks into the fridge for a snack.

at that, he froze because yeah he had heard them but he was also too scared to talk about it with you. then in an attempt to act normal, he hit the top of his head on the ceiling of the fridge. 

“shit!” he exclaimed.

“omg, are you okay?” you wince before putting down your water bottle and checking his head. 

he has his hands on the spot he hit like that’ll help ease the pain, which of course it doesn’t. so, in an attempt to do something other than just watch him in pain, you pick up your cold water, gently move his hands from his injury, and place the bottle against it. 

“there, that should help.” you say softly while still holding the bottle against his head. you’re too focused on easing his pain to notice the way steve is looking at you.

—

“oh those two? we’re still talking about them?” tony asks, “that’s old news. instead, lets focus on me–”

— 

“aww they’re soo cute i cant wait for them to realize!” wanda says excitedly with the biggest smile on her face. she’s a sweetheart.

—

“what, when did this happen? why did no one tell me?!” thor asked with a frown, being the clueless himbo that he was ♡. 

his smile reforms as an idea forms in head, “i must congratulate them!” he exclaims while getting up.

the camera follows thor out of the room and into the main office where steve and you were actually focused on your work for once. 

“CONGRATULATIONS ON THE RELATIONSHIP DEAR MORTALS!” thor yells as he pulls you two into a tight hug. drawing the attention of the rest of the team.

“what?” you ask, gasping but laughing when thor finally lets you out of the bone crushing hug. 

“you and steve! you know i always suspected, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure. why didn’t you tell me?” he questions, getting a bit sad again.

 this time steve pipes up, “you ‘always suspected’ what?” he asks in confusion.

honestly he was getting a bit nervous. you both were, thinking somehow your crush for the other got out and that’s what thor knew.  

but the truth surprised you guys even more, “that you’re dating of course!”

at this, you and steve look at eachother wide eyed and flushed for a moment before looking back at thor. 

“where did you get that information from, thor?” you ask. 

“well apparently, everyone knew but me.” he looks down, “no one ever tells me anything.” 

you guys look around at the rest of the team with surprised looks on your faces, “really?” steve asks, perplexed.

a collection of nods and “yeah”s spread around the room.

clint speaks up, “i honestly thought you guys were engaged already.”

—

after all of that, you and steve kind of avoided each other for a bit. feeling too awkward after the news you both had heard.

but that only lasted for about an hour before you both ended up in the break room at the same time. 

you walked in, distracted, looking down and counting the coins in your hand to see if you had enough for the chips you were craving. due to this, you failed to notice that someone else was in the room with you.

“oh, hi.” steve spoke up, surprised to see you. 

you jump and look up to find steve sitting at a table across the room.

“hi,” you stop in your tracks, surprised and suddenly nervous at the sight of him.

you both stood there for a bit, staring at each other, not knowing what to say.  

“soo–”

“umm–” 

“you go first!”

“no you!” you insist.

“i was just going to ask if uh we’re okay?” steve asks nervously. 

“yeah.” you reply quickly, “why wouldn't we be?” you ask, trying really hard to act normal and like you weren't affected by today's news in the slightest.

but of course steve saw right through it, right through you as he stared at you for a moment before responding, “i'm sorry that things are weird now, and it's all my fault and i totally understand if you don't wanna be friends anymore–” 

“what?!” you interrupt immediately, “steve, of course i don't want to stop being friends.” you say sincerely looking deep into his eyes. 

“and if anything, it's both our faults for being together all the time, no wonder they thought we were together.” you finish while pulling up a chair next to him. 

steve chuckles and shakes his head at that before getting serious again, “so we're good?”

“yes. we’re good.” you smile, causing him to do the same, “plus their assumption didn’t bother me too much…” you looked down as you said the last part.

“what.” steve’s head turns towards you swiftly, he couldn't have heard you correctly, right?

“what? it's not like you’re the worst guy ever. and i guess it's not the worst thing that they saw us as a couple.” you try to answer nonchalantly but are still avoiding his eyes. 

this time, steve’s lips upturned a little, noticing your nervousness, “so you think i'm ‘not the worst guy ever’ huh?” 

you look up and notice he looks a bit amused. “oh shut up, you know what i mean.” you playfully shove his side with your shoulder. 

“no no, i really don't. please. explain it to me.” he jokingly but also somehow convincingly insisted. 

figuring that you weren’t gonna be able to leave this place if you didn’t just admit it, you very speedily say, “fine. you’re an attractive guy and you’re funny and really kind and anyone would be lucky to have you.” at the end of that you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. 

it’s quiet for a moment and when you finally look back at steve he’s smiling softly at you. “i feel the same.”

“you think i’m an attractive guy?” you tease.

“you know what i mean.” he whispers, still smiling.

“i think i do.” you say softly while leaning closer towards him.

but of course thor had to walk by right when steve closed the gap between you two. 

“i knew it! they are dating!!” thor yells as he runs towards the main office. 

[bigtreefest]

Cinnamon Rolls

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve has to decide which is the lesser of two evils: waking you up from your nap, or letting the cinnamon rolls in the oven burn.

Word count: 1,686

Content/warnings: fluff! Kissing, cooking, Steve being too perfect and sweet, tickling

A/N: hehehe, thanks to @thezombieprostitute for always indulging my thots and whims, especially regarding my love for cinnamon rolls and cinnamon roll-like men.

Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!

Dividers by @mikeykuns

Main Masterlist

You looked over the back of the couch and towards the kitchen in the open living area of the cabin you and Steve were staying in for the weekend. Tony had insisted, of course, that the two of you take some time off and away from the city, which at this point, didn’t take much convincing, even for two people who worked themselves to the bone as much as you and Steve.

The past three weeks had been grueling, as you guided Steve and the rest of the Avengers through a mission in a South American city via coms. It was a series of sleepless nights and food rations, but worth it for the safety of the world. Both you and Steve were willing to pay that price, but afterwards, somehow Tony talked you into taking him up on his offer for alone time in his remote property upstate.

It was nice, but cold, which you would’ve complained about if you hadn’t had a personal heater in the form of your super soldier husband. The same man who was bent over the oven right now, sliding in a tray of something that he wasn’t letting you see. What you were happy to look at in the meantime, though, was that ass, somehow still so plump and prominent in a pair of flannel pajama pants that you’d hardly seen him take off since you’d gotten here. One of your favorite sights, that probably would be until the end of time, was Steve when he was relaxed and comfy. And you knew he loved to see you the same way, wearing a pair of old sweats and his Army hoodie that he’d gotten soon after joining this century.

The view earned him a cat call whistle, and when he stood and closed the oven door, you were sure the blush on his cheeks wasn’t just from the heat in the kitchen. It was nice how much you could still make him a little bashful after all this time.

You watched his eyes, full of amusement and affection as he rounded the corner of the couch to move towards where you were curled up in a blanket by the fire.

“You gonna tell me what you and those buns have got cooking, good looking?”

Steve let out a lighthearted chuckle and the corners of his eyes creased, still as beautiful as ever. He shrugged as he lifted the soft throw blanket and settled in against the armrest before gesturing for you to snuggle up to him.

“No way. It’s a surprise. You can guess once it’s done, though.”

You sighed as you laid a hand and your head on his chest, adjusting until you were comfortably laying with him, legs tangled. Steve reached for the book you had turned upside down on the coffee table to keep your page and looked over a few lines.

“The Hobbit, huh?”

You nodded, the rustling sound of his threadbare hoodie on your ear just covering his faint heartbeat.

“Yeah, Bucky lent it to me.”

Steve exhaled a laugh through his nose, a boyish grin rising on his face. “That’s the least he could do. Punk stole my copy back in the day, then gave it to some girl he never saw again after he was done.”

You smiled in response to the way he reminisced about the old days. You absolutely loved when Steve would bring up his childhood memories. They were so different from yours, yet so full of parallels. Kids will be kids, after all.

You put your chin on his chest to look up at him, met with sparkling blue eyes, reflecting the bright light that bounced off the snow outside the windows.

“Of course he did. He was a charmer, wasn’t he?”

Steve leaned down for a kiss as you stretched to meet him.

“For sure. Not as much as me, though, of course.”

You playfully rolled your eyes along with him. “Right, of course. I’m sure you were a real heartbreaker back in the day.”

Steve’s eyebrows lowered and the corners of his lips turned upward in a sarcastic smile. “Left and right.”

You placed a reverent kiss on his sternum before resettling yourself on his pec, squishier than usual from not having been to the gym in a few days. It was perfect.

You smiled to yourself. “Well, I’m glad those days are behind you.”

Steve brushed a hand up and down your back. “I’d never break your heart, you know, I’d rather work to fill it with love every day. Forever if I can.”

Steve always knew exactly what to say to have you blushing, too, even if it was unintentional. The words that spilled out of his mouth warmed you from the inside out with how sincere they always were. You patted his belly gently, “and I hope to do the same for you.”

Steve hummed before he held the book back up in his line of sight.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Speaking of which, you want me to read for you?”

You nodded again, tucking a hand up under his hoodie, warming your cold fingers against his abs. “Mmmhmmm.”

Steve cleared his throat and began, his voice a smooth, deep rumble conducted through his chest and across your body. It was one of the best sounds, one of the best feelings, to be curled up close to him and taken care of. Cherished.

The gentle cadence of his voice carried in the cozy air around the couch as your breaths began to even out. Steve sensed it as your body relaxed into his, fully softened in a light slumber. He finished the page he was on just to make sure you were fully out before marking where he stopped and placing your book back on the table. He continued lulling you to sleep gently, his blunt fingertips drawing circles between your shoulder blades. Steve basked in the sunshine of enjoyment that came from how safe he knew he made you feel.

He sat there for a second, satisfied with everything in his life. With you, everything hard he’d gone through before was worth it. Nothing could break the feeling of fullness in his heart.

And then he smelled it. The cinnamon rolls. How long ago had he put them in? He craned his neck to look at the timer on the stove. They were just past halfway done. And Steve would rather die than move you right now when you were so peaceful. He considered his options and pulled out his phone.

Tony, can you remotely turn off an oven up here?

No. What part of ‘everything’s off the network except whatever you bring up there’ did you not understand?

Steve sighed to himself. He thought Tony was joking. Could he actually have a place somewhere so disconnected? He knew there was at least a Wi-Fi router, but really? Nothing else? Tony Stark has changed.

Why? Doing something else that’s keeping you from the oven?😏

Yes. But not like that. Steve rolled his eyes and opened up a different text conversation.

Sam, can redwing open doors?

Yeah, but the door probably won’t close again. He’s got lasers. You need help?

Steve sighed again. That wouldn’t work either.

No, I’ll figure it out.

One more try. Maybe Bucky and Nat?

Hey. Either one of you close to Tony’s place in the mountains? I got a favor to ask.

No. We’re at dinner in the city. Why? Everything ok?

Steve bit his lip in contemplation.

Yeah. Nothing I can’t handle. Thanks anyway.

He locked his phone and set it on the coffee table next to your book, running a hand over his face. He could do this. Maybe he could carefully carry you to the kitchen, just to take them out, then go back to the couch? But would that disturb you too much?

Maybe he could stuff pillows into his spot and you wouldn’t even realize you were clinging to something else. Yeah. That could work.

He looked back over at the timer on the oven. It had just reached two minutes left. Okay, he was gonna do it. Just move carefully and quietly and quickly to hit the button so the timer didn’t startle you awake.

But it was too late. Before he could even move a muscle, you were stirring. Eyes still closed, your nose rose to the air, taking a deep breath of the scent that had permeated the cabin. A smile took over your face and your eyes finally fluttered open, landing on Steve. Your voice held a light rasp to it.

“Cinnamon rolls. My favorite.”

Steve nodded. “Uh huh.”

You shifted to straddle his waist, arms clinging around his torso. “Cinnamon rolls made by my favorite cinnamon roll.”

Steve laughed at the long running joke of what you always called him, moving to sit up, big hands holding you steady against him. He stood with your body wrapped around his and made it to the oven before the loud beeping started, shutting everything off and setting the tray on the counter.

“Of course, darling.”

He set you on the granite beside the stove, kissing your nose at your whine at the loss of his touch. He opened the fridge and pulled out a container of cream cheese icing he had made, setting it in your hands as he sifted through the drawers for a knife.

You took off the lid, swiping a finger through the frosting and sucking it off with a moan.

“Dang, that’s good.”

You scooped up another bit, holding it out for Steve, but when he opened his mouth, you booped it onto his nose. With a giggle, you went to kiss it off but Steve was too quick, whisking you away back to the couch.

“Ohhh, you’re gonna get it.”

Before you knew it, you were kicking and laughing so hard that your stomach hurt, surrounded in a world of love and warmth with your husband. Even though this was a short trip, every day with him felt like this on the inside.

Bonus A/N: ohhhh sweet Steeb. Gimme this cinnamon roll🥺

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63

[mysterymachine67]

I have a request if that's alright.

Bottom Steve Rogers x Top Male Reader.

Male Reader is a new avenger who's in love with Steve, he thinks Steve doesn't like him until one day at the avengers gym (only the 2 of them are in the gym) Steve notices reader staring at America's ass and decided enough is enough so he decides to tease him using his greatest ASSet, then they have sex bottom Steve.

Can you make this one long, I love your fics I just wish they were always longer.

PAIRING -> Steve Rodgers x Top M!reader

NSFW. MDNI.

Here you go. So sorry this came out late and if it’s out of character 🙏🏻

The first few days went by smoothly. You got everything that needed to be done, done. There were a few…difficulties, but you got through them. All that mattered was that you were learning things that needed to be learned, and that you were doing great. Back to the ‘difficulties’. That consisted of love at first sight. Which you never believed in but once you met this man you couldn’t help it. He was perfect, perfect in so many damn ways you couldn’t explain.

But you couldn’t talk to him. Well, couldn’t get yourself to talk to him. You think he doesn’t like you, nor wants to do anything involving you. Why do you think this? There is no ‘main’ reason to it. Only that whenever you’re around him you swear you can feel some type of hatred toward you. So you leave him alone—minding your own business. And your sure as hell he noticed how distant you were from him.

—

Currently, you’re at the gym. You’re focused on yourself—the weights you’re lifting, and how many more lifts you need to do. You were the only one there and you enjoyed it. But that only lasted a few more minutes before the guy you have a little crush on walked through the doors. Steve Rodgers. The man who you swear on everything hates you. You swallowed as your face twisted with slight irritation. The look you gave him was with pure…jealousy? You’re not to sure what the correct word for it was, but all you knew was that it annoyed you how in love you were. You brushed it off—taking your gaze away from him and regaining back your focus.

Yet, every few minutes you found yourself stealing another look. You couldn’t help it, you practically admired him. You fought to draw your eyes away from him. It only got worse. Your gaze went lower, and lower, and lower till it got to his ass. See, now, you were a respectful man. You were not a creep, nor anything under that category. It was just accidental.

But it kept fucking happening. You’d look over at him when he wasn’t facing you—watching how he handled the gym equipment. Then your gaze would shift, but only for a moment. Not that it made it any better. He did eventually end up catching you. You forgot to look away quickly once he turned back around and you both made eye contact. And you thought he must’ve brushed it off. Hopefully, and not think you’re a creep because that’s the last thing you need to be represented as. But no. Steve did not brush it off, nor let it slide.

You noticed how he started to do more things involving his ass, and how he somehow got closer to you. Hell, he even asked you to help him with something. In which you put your self-control to use. His ass brushed against your front when he moved. You didn’t know what to do; so you kept your hands at a reasonable position and helped him with what he needed to be helped with.

What were you helping him with? That’s a good question. Well, it was a type of workout you’d never heard nor seen before. Was he doing this on purpose? Most definitely. Were you aware? Not so much.

This continued for a lot longer than you thought it would. Not that you…minded, but you’d think it’d be a few minutes tops. Nope. Things…escalated. And by escalated he finally confronted you—getting out of whatever position he had you guys in, and asking so many damn questions about you and why you were so distant. You answered. It’d be disrespectful and rude if you didn’t.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve asked.

“You’ve asked plenty so far. But hit me.” You answered.

“Do you like me?”

Well shit.

You cleared your throat. Adjusting your clothes and rubbing the back of your neck. “If…I say yes?” You stammered. You’re not even sure he heard you. But then Steve spoke up.

“Then,” He started, locking eyes with you. You nearly looked away, nervous for what’s to come. Did you just fuck up? “We can call it a day. Go hang out, or do something cheesy. How’s that sound?” He offered.

Oh.

Well, except doing any of those things listed. On the way out of the gym Steve mentioned something very suggestive. In which you turned around, dropped your things and made your way to him. Obviously agreeing with what he said.

—

Your hands gripped his ass while crashing your lips against his. It hurt from how hard you did it, but it soon faded away once you heard a sweet sound from the man you’ve liked since the day you met him. The both of you moved toward a nearby wall. When you got close enough you pushed Steve against it; hearing a faint noise come from him. Maybe you pushed him a little too hard. Your lips touched his again while your hands roamed his body. This time, the kiss was more sloppy than the last.

You pulled back and whispered against his lips. “I don’t think you get how much I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” And oh, the way he looked at you. You kissed him again before he could even respond.

Soon enough you were helping each other take off clothes. They were being thrown somewhere in the gym, a future problem. As soon as Steve got his shirt off your hands were on him yet again. Gripping his flesh and kissing where you could. Steve’s quiet whimpered and soft moans were one of many things that kept you from stopping. His hands stayed on your hips, gripping you tightly and keeping you close. When your lips met his neck he let out a gasp. It got even better when your hand trailed down Steve’s chest. All the way to his hard cock.

You fished his cock from his boxers. Then brought your hand back up to his mouth. “Spit.” You said simply. So he did.

When you finally wrapped your hand around his cock he let out a sigh. Leaning his head back against the wall. He bucked his hips into your hand—seeking more. With the mix of your mouth on him, and your hand on his cock, he was starting to get close. A moan fell from Steve’s lips. A hand of his moving its way up to your shoulder.

“Fuck..’m close.” Steve muttered, sucking in a breath once he felt your thumb rub at his tip. Just a few more thrusts into your hand and he’ll—

“Sorry, pretty boy. But we’re just getting started.” You say, as you remove your hand. Hearing as he let out a groan.

—

You slowly aligned your cock with his hole. Hearing a soft groan and a thud of his head going back against the wall. You cursed under your breath, feeling the tightness of his heat around your cock. Once you were bottomed out you stayed still for a moment. Giving Steve a moment. Well, that was until he urged you on. You had one of his legs on your hip, it helped made your cock dive deeper into him.

You pulled out slowly, watching as his face scrunched up. Before shoving your cock back inside, you gripped his leg tighter. Soon, you started a good pace and rhythm. Steve let out a few small whimpers and moans. You leaned in close, capturing his lips in a kiss. Meanwhile, your free hand started to move to his cock. Wrapping around it and started to stroke. The added pleasure and stimulation caused him to moan into your mouth. In which you tried not to smile. You soon broke the kiss, moving to kiss neck instead.

“Oh, God!” He moaned. Moving his head back against the wall with a thud. Many sounds echoed throughout the gym. Pants, moans, groans, whimpers, etc. all coming from the both of you.

Your orgasm came quick, Steve’s too. Just as you went to pull out he clenched and groan from the loss.

“No, no, just—inside.”

So you shoved your cock back in. Hearing a moan in response to your action. Not that you were complaining. Soon enough you came, painting his walls white while he coated your hand in his own cum. A mix of moans and pants echoed in the gym. But he felt so good, so you kept going even though your hips stuttered. You worked yourself up to a second orgasm in a matter of minutes. Completely ignoring Steve’s whines. But he enjoyed it. A little pain mixed with pleasure is something he didn’t know he’d be into. Your hips came to a halt—not pulling out and staying buried inside of him.

But you put your hand back on his cock and started to jerk him off again. You weren’t gonna let him cum only once. That wasn’t fair. Back to Steve, he groaned then soon let out a whine. Jerking his hips back but then moving them back forward. You heard him curse under his breath before, without a warning, cumming into your hand.

Both of you were breathing heavily. Chest raising and falling with how heavy you were breathing. Once your breathing went back to normal you finally spoke up. “So, you don’t hate me?” You asked. Such a random question after just getting done fucking him.

“Why the hell would I hate you?” Steve replied, still trying to get his breathing regular. In which you shrugged, a conversation for a different time.

[holylulusworld]

The Captain and his bombshell (1)

Summary: Golden Boy in the streets – the devil in the sheets.

Pairing: Steve Rogers (Post Endgame) x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, fat shaming, bullying, cocky reader, self-confident reader, reader has powers, implied kinky/rough Steve

A/N: A drabble collection of cocky reader & kinky Steve.

The Captain and his bombshell masterlist

A thick skin. That’s your superpower.

That’s your way to ricochet bitchy comments and nasty looks.

You’re a master at ignoring the kind of people wanting to make themselves feel better by treating others like trash.

Not only that. It gave you the power to be a cocky bitch.

Just like now. Some of the women at a bar believe that only because one of them fucked Steve Rogers, one of your team members some weeks ago, they can get bitchy.

“She was staring at him when he walked around shirtless,” the woman spats, looking in your direction. “As if Captain America would ever be interested in that hippo. I don’t even know why she’s one of the Avengers. What’s her superpower? Being fat.”

She’s not wrong, though. After Steve was done with his disappointing encounter with her, he was walking into the kitchen in only his boxer briefs.

You were about to feed the stray Bucky brought home some weeks back when Steve caught your attention.

Your eyes roamed his body, and you decided to save the memory for lonely nights.

Steve never tried to make a move on you. He’s usually shy around you. Maybe the woman is right. Steve would never try to put his hands on you. You’re just not his type.

“It was a case of second-hand embarrassment,” she continues. “I was looking for Stevie and saw her stare at him as if he’s the next cake she wants to wolf down.”

You have heard enough. Usually, your skin is thick enough to ignore nasty comments or stupid babbling coming from women like her. Tonight is different. You’re in the mood to be a bitch.

Slowly stalking toward their table, your head held high and a dark smirk on your crimson lips, you prepare yourself to wipe that grin off her face.

“Well, sweetie,” you coo, and put on your best fake smile, “at least I wouldn’t whine and cry the whole time he’s fucking me because I can’t take it. You see,” you slap your butt with your right hand. “This booty is made for rough treatment.”

“I—what?” She stammers, eyes wide, and her cheeks are on fire. “What are you talking about?”

The other women stare at her, mouth agape. They wait for her reply, but it never comes. Typically. They can only throw punches, but not take a single blow.

“I don’t need super-hearing to know that you didn’t enjoy yourself. I know, I know.” You laugh in her face. “Everyone believes Stevie is all sweet and cuddly. But a super-soldier needs to release some steam sometimes. He likes it rough, just like me. You shouldn't play with fire if you can’t take the heat.”

You turn on your heels and walk off, smiling to yourself as you can hear the women soothe their friend.

Steve is following you around town. After you knocked the woman he slept with some weeks ago down a peg or two, he couldn’t think straight.

You heard him have sex with that squeaky mouse and wished it was you. Why, he has no clue. All the time he knew you, Steve believed you, the bombshell straight out of his wet dreams, could never be into him.

Now he’s confused and horny—unsure about his next step.

Steve only knows one thing. He cannot stay away from you for much longer…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[gay-dorito-dust]

* re-corporates*

Hello again, sorry

Could I get some headcanons for a male [or gender nutral] reader who's a diva. Think the Emma frost kind. Bad bitch who's so cut throat when defending the team from the public view or like if Valentina is giving them shit.

"The only publicity cover up we need is that ratty wig you have on Valentina.😮‍💨>:["

However would literally lay down his life for anyone on the team and actively goes out of his way to make them more comfortable. Like demands them be treated well.

I love your work goodbye 👋

the second you all were called the new avengers, you wanted to wrangle Valentina's neck for the shit storm she was subjecting you all to.

You knew people wouldn't take too kindly to your group of assasins and super soldiers with blood on their hands being called a name that was once synonomous with indivisuals who might as well have been gods and worshiped as such.

you knew that things from here on out would be a constant uphill battle, where you'd be faced with countless obsticles for you and the team to overcome on your own.

after Yelena told Valentina that they 'own her now' you put your hand on the assassins shoulder, gave her a smile, before moving to lean towards Valentina where your smile became a malicious sneer. 'hopefully with all that money you'll get for these gullible lot, you'll be able to actually get your hair done professionally, and not have to rely on the bathroom mirror and the pair of siscors that i know you use to sort out those god awful dead ends of yours.'

you weren't done as you then later added. 'also if you try and use any one of my team as scapegoats in the media the second you can't control the narrative, i will come for your throat. do i make myself clear.' you threatned.

'crystal, you have my word.' Valentina replied with a tight lipped smile. you weren't convinced and she could tell, you would do anything in your power to keep your team safe, people you didn't give two shit about twenty mintues ago are now the people you would raise hell for in order to keep them out of the public eye should you see it was getting to them.

this mainly being john walker, whom seemingly only ever cared about how the general public and press saw him as; a failure replacement of steve rogers who went rouge and killed a man in broad daylight.

'i'll believe it when i see it De Fontaine. so actually try and make it believable.' you mockingly spat before taking your spot between Yelena and Alexei, flashing the public a fake smile that would've fooled anyone and everyone becuase it was just enough to keep people from looking at your teammates and keep the public focus on you and you alone.

you did not fuck about when it came to your teammates, you wanted them to be okay and to have a much more comfortable living within the tower, all the while trying not to wince and scowl at the...decorative choices Valentina made to the place and actively made the choice to throw them out. Ava and Yelena had once caught you hauling an ugly statue over your shoulder and asked what you were doing.

'i'm not allowing myself nor any or you to live with such an eyesore, the woman doesn't know fashion from trashion if it hit her in the face.' you told them before adding, 'oh also remind me to buy Bob a book shelf for his book nook along with another beanbag or at least a more comfotable loveseat to support his back, weighted throw blankets, weighted plushies and snug hoodie blankets. okay thanks!'

you do similar things for Yelena, Alexei, John and Ava by making their floors within the tower more tolerable, places where they can find respit in. For Yelena you got her food for Fanny and Houdini the guinea pig, even buying them better dog beds and cages for houdini to move and get exercise within, along with some new jewlery and fake plants to decorate the blandness of her window sill.

For Ava you got her some books, diaries for her to write her innermost thoughts in, movies that she missed out on and that you'd think she would like, art supplies so that she could get her feelings out on the canvas and most of them came out really beautiful and amazing that you began to make a room on her floor decked out as an art room for her to fully use at her complete disposal.

for Alexei you got him memorobilia of his golden days as Red Guardian, knowing how much he looked back on those days with pride, wanting nothing more to recapture it. You got a massive poster of the wheaties box with all of you on it to hang on his wall, since he wouldn’t stop talking about it. You even managed to find newspaper clips of the football team that he and Yelena talked about and had them framed and sat on his bedside table for easy accept for him to look at whenever he wanted to, much to Yelena’s dismay.

For John you made one of the rooms on his floor into a sort of relaxation room that you made sure had no wifi, no signal, nothing and force him to sit in his thoughts and just breath. You even got him some journals to go write in as he didn’t open up vocally about what he’s going through, so why not write instead. You pay homage to Lemar ‘Battlestar’ Hoskins too upon learning how close he and John were, knowing how his death had disturbed John to the core even to this day while not overstepping your boundaries upon this subject.

You were essentially their reminder to take it easier on themselves, to treat themselves better as you would force the team into activities that would prove beneficial for not only them, but to you all as a team. Movie and game nights, family dinners in the Kitchenette, team outings to a park or elsewhere when there wasn’t any missions to go on nor stupid press junkets that Valentina demands you all to attend.

‘Stop it.’ You took the vodka shot glasses from Alexei and Yelena.

‘Put it down.’ You confiscated John’s phone, pocketing it in your jeans.

‘Knock it off.’ You grab Ava by the elbow before she could phase through the wall, something she always did whenever you decided to rally the group.

‘Come one sweetheart, get in here.’ You gestured for Bob to step away from the stove where he was making breakfast for you all, wanting to make himself useful while he was learning to better understand his powers and their full extent, seeing the tired look upon his face.

You’d make them all stay in the living room won’t let anyone be left out, not stopping until all of you were laughing and having a good time, you just wanted them all to be okay and will fully intended to be harsh if you must to get the results you want from your group.

But you have days yourself when you couldn’t always protect your teammates, days where you were tired from the weight you’ve put on yourself in taking care for others over yourself that your team decided to step in themselves to help you for a change.

‘Come on, enough of that.’ John said as he took away your phone, pocketing it in his jeans as he guided you to the room he and the others had decked out just for you. It took them a week but it was worth it. fairy lights hung from the ceiling, bookshelves lined the walls, a projector was lying in wait to be used, loveseats were placed wherever possible along with little gifts each of the thunderbolts best suited you and your room.

Yelena- a collage of pictures of yourself and her along with the other team members falling asleep on one another during movie nights, having self care days or even having a makeshift fashion show in order to make you laugh with tears. A plushy that looked like Fanny and Houdini the guinea pig. It was the least she could do when you reminded her to put down the bottle, put down the phone and allow herself to be in the company of people who love her and were just as fucked up as her, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her out of the room and forcing her to talk Fanny for a walk.

Ava- a painting she made of you that was hung on the wall, trinkets to put in the alcove units John had installed, and even found a plush window sill seat should you ever want to look out the window without having to worry about a sore and numb ass afterwards. It was the least she could do when she needed to escape, phasing into your room and lying on your bed while you kept her company, making sure to keep some distance between each other as you knew touch was something she was iffy on especially when over exerting herself.

Bob- books that were well loved and well read by him that he’d thought and hoped would help you, the sweater you kept stealing from him, and a weighted plushy he had help picking out for you. He even picked out some vine wall decorations to hang over the bookshelves to give them a more fantasy feeling. It was the least he could do for the times you’ve stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep, for opening your door for him whenever he needed to talk to someone, for giving him the tools to help better himself mentally.

Alexei- a massive poster of him as red guardian, a fishing rod for he drags you and the others to go fishing and vodka shot glasses, and flower table lights. Helped Ava set up the cushioned window sill seat. It was the least he could do for when you helped him take the opportunity to do something new with this second chance in the limelight, to do things he’s always wanted to do while also helping repair his and Yelena’s relationship in the process.

John- some throw blankets, cushions, put together alcove units for you to use however you saw fit. Also helped Ava and Alexei with the window sill seat as he claimed they were doing it wrong. It was the least he could do for the times where you’d pull him away from public view and practically shield him from view, from another bad new outlet about him for him to drown in later. Telling him that he owed them nothing.

You almost felt like crying upon seeing the room and the personal touches each of your team had left behind, you knew most of them fucking sucked as speaking their feelings but the fact that they had all come together just for you. It showed that they cared for you and acted as the biggest thank you you’ve ever received in your life, reminding you why you were so hellbent on keeping their heads above water, for moments like this where you could see them healing and accepting of themselves.

You were proud of your dysfunctional team, you would keep defending them until you couldn’t anymore, they still very much needed you but you needed them just as much and standing in the room they’ve took great care in crafting just for you only proved such.

‘Thank you.’ You said to them.

‘No,’ Alexei said, clapping you on the shoulder, ‘thank you.’

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi can I request a Bucky x yn where it was her who was knocked off the train not him and years later Bucky finds out that she’s the winter soldier and Steve wants to stop her at all costs but Bucky says she’s still in there.

It’s on the HYDRA plane where he gets through to her and they get married and have sex in the end

She’s Still In There » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!40s Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend/Agent!Female Reader with Post Serum Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier!Female Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Summary: You fall off the train during a mission in the 1940s. Years later, Bucky has an encounter with you and does everything he can to get you back to your normal self.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, soft Smut (18+), language, mentions of death, HYDRA, nightmares, violence, blood, crying, husband!Bucky/wife!reader, kissing, hickeys, sweet/dirty talk, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @bladesismylife 🩵

A/N #2: Italic text is nightmares and flashbacks. Thank you to @buck-star for helping come up with some ideas for this!🩵 Bucky is still a Super Soldier and let’s pretend that Bucky doesn’t have a metal arm, he’s not the Winter Soldier, and he’s a SHIELD Agent in this. Enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

1945

“I don’t think the guys would appreciate that we keep kissing when we’re supposed to be working.” You giggled softly.

“I don’t care.” Bucky says, pecking your lips once again.

You smiled and kissed him sweetly. The kiss was short lived when Steve pulled you and Bucky apart.

“I’m happy that you two are in love, but no kissing during missions.” Steve says.

“Yes, Captain!” You and Bucky say, playfully saluting him.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes at you guys.

“See you guys down there.” Steve says.

“We’re right behind you.” Bucky says.

Steve zip lines down to the train. Bucky zipped line behind him a few seconds after him, along with you. You three landed on top of the train. Bucky opened the hatch on the train’s roof. Steve jumped inside first, then you, and Bucky. Steve held his shield in front of himself. Bucky shielded you with his body, which you find sweet.

Steve got separated from you two when a sliding door closed and a HYDRA agent started shooting at you and Bucky. You guys dodged the blasts and shot at him, taking him down with ease. Then Bucky ran out of bullets. The sliding door opened back up and Steve tossed a gun to Bucky. He caught it and picked up where he left off. Steve used all of his strength to push something heavy into the HYDRA agent, which knocked him down.

“I had him on the ropes.” Bucky says.

“I know you did.” Steve says.

A HYDRA agent came up behind Bucky and Steve, aiming his gun at them.

“Guys, watch out!” You shouted.

They turned around to see him. Steve pushed you and Bucky behind him to shield you guys from the blast he shot at you guys, which knocked all you three to the floor and made a hole in the train’s wall. You picked up Steve’s shield and started shooting at him. The HYDRA agent shot a blast at you, sending you outside of the train. You were hanging on a handle that was about to fall off.

“Y/N, I’m coming!” Bucky yells.

You nodded. Bucky moved towards you carefully, trying not to fall off.

“Grab my hand!” He yells, extending his hand out to you.

You reached your hand out to his, your fingertips brushing lightly against his before the handle gave out and you fell off the side of the train. You screamed as you plummeted downward.

“Y/N!” Bucky screams, watching you fall.

Bucky gets back on the train with Steve’s help. He stared down where you fell. He broke down in tears. Steve put a comforting hand on Bucky’s back. Steve teared up too.

“Come on, man. Y/N would want us to finish this mission successfully.” Steve says softly.

Bucky nods and sniffles. He wiped his tears away before standing up and finishing the mission with Steve. The only thing Bucky wants to do is that he wants to take down every single HYDRA agent with his bare hands for what happened to you.

PRESENT DAY

That day of you fall off the train has haunted Bucky for years. He can still hear your scream as you plummeted down thousands of feet. Bucky was tossing and turning in his sleep, sweat covered his face.

“Grab my hand!” He yells, extending his hand out to you.

You reached your hand out to his, your fingertips brushing lightly against his before the handle gave out and you fell off the train. You screamed as you plummeted downward.

Once again, Steve had to wake up Bucky from his reoccurring nightmare. He walked over to Bucky’s bed and sat down next to him.

“Buck.” Steve gently shook him. “Wake up. You’re having that nightmare again.” He whispers.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouts when he finally woke up from the nightmare.

Steve moved back a bit to give Bucky some space. Bucky sat up, breathing heavily.

“I almost had her.” Bucky says, his voice cracking and eyes tearing up.

“I know you did.” Steve says softly, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Bucky inhales deeply and shakily exhales.

“What time is it?” Bucky asks.

“Almost 8am. Training starts in a couple hours.” Steve says.

“I’ll be ready in a little bit.” He says.

“Take all the time you need.” He says, patting his shoulder.

Bucky smiles. Steve left his bedroom so he can get ready for the day. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom to splash cold water in his face to wake himself up more before getting dressed.

Training for Bucky consists of sparring with Steve and punching at the punching bag. Today, he just punched the punching bag. He’s already on the second one after busting the first one.

“Did he have that nightmare again?” Natasha asks, standing next to Steve.

“Yes.” Steve answers quietly.

Fury walks in the gym when Bucky punched the punching bag so hard that he sent it across the gym, sand leaking out of it.

“I’ll pay for those.” Bucky says, pointing at the busted punching bags.

“Don’t worry about it.” Fury says.

Bucky nods and left the gym. Steve watched him leave, already knowing that he’s going home to think about you like he always does.

“Bucky needs to go out more instead of upsetting himself about his girlfriend’s death.” Natasha says.

“I agree.” Steve says.

Steve got to thinking. Bucky leaving the apartment more often than just going to SHIELD would be good for him.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asks, leaning forward and sticking his head in between the front seats.

“That’s for us to know and for you to find out.” Steve says.

Natasha pulled Bucky back in his seat. He sighs and looks out the window, watching cars pass by. Suddenly, a car hit Sam’s car, startling everyone in the car. A thud was heard on the roof of the car and then a hand was punched through the windshield and ripped the steering wheel out of the car. Everyone’s eyes went wide. Steve put the car in park and whoever was on the roof of the car flew off of it and landed on the road a great distance away from them. Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha stared at you. They knew who you were without having to see your face. They all got out of the car, running away from you.

You shot at them, missing all of them and shooting Steve’s shield. The four of them knew what they had to do… fight back. Steve already had his shield and Natasha had a couple guns on her. Bucky and Sam knocked out a couple HYDRA agents and took their guns. You dodged the bullets with ease when they shot at you. You looked at all four of them, trying to decide who to go for first. That’s when your eyes landed on Bucky. You walked towards him. You aimed your gun at him, shooting at him. Bucky dodged the bullets by hiding behind a random car. Steve threw his shield past you to catch you off guard so Bucky could get away from you. You ended up catching his shield and threw it at Bucky. It got stuck in a nearby van. Bucky looked at the shield and then looked at you.

You got a knife out of your thigh holster and flipped it in your hand before making your way toward him. You tried to stab him, but Bucky stopped you each time. He managed to smack the knife out of your hand and ran. You chased after him, catching up with him with ease and jumped on his back. You put him in a chokehold with your arms. Bucky stumbled backwards, grabbing onto a car so he didn’t fall. He reached his hands back, grabbing onto your tactical jacket and used all of his strength to throw you off of him. Your goggles and mask fell off your face when you hit the ground. You turned around, staring at Bucky. Bucky’s eyes went wide and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N?” Bucky says with shock in his voice.

“Who the hell is Y/N?” You asked.

Steve caught up to Bucky, his eyes going wide when he seen you. Sam came flying behind you and kicked you to knock you down when you aimed a gun at Bucky and Steve. You stood up, staring at Bucky. Natasha shot at you.

“Stop shooting at her!” Bucky yells at her, smacking the gun out of her hand.

Bucky looked over to where you were standing, only to find out that you weren’t there anymore. He ran all over the place in the area to find you, but couldn’t find you. His mind was all over the place. He fell to his knees in the middle of the road. He didn’t know what to think. Steve, Sam, and Natasha caught up to Bucky.

“Bucky, are you ok?” Steve asks softly, crouching down next to him.

“She’s alive.” Bucky mumbles. “She looked right at me and didn’t recognize me as her boyfriend.” He says, his eyes tearing up.

It took everything in Bucky to not break down in tears. Tears did roll down his cheeks. He knows one thing… he’s going to go after you and try to get you to remember him.

———

You were back at the HYDRA base getting patched up. You were leaning back in the chair, staring off at the wall on the other side of the room. You were lost in your thoughts. There was something familiar about the man you fought today.

“James!” You squealed when Bucky picked you up from behind and spun you around.

Bucky put you back on your feet and turned you around so you two were face to face. He cupped your cheeks and kisses you passionately. You smiled against his lips and grasped onto his Army uniform.

“I missed you today, doll.” Bucky whispers against your lips.

“We seen each other this morning before you trained.” You say with a smile.

“That was hours ago.” He says with a playful pout.

You giggled and pecked his pouty lips softly.

“We’re going out for dinner and dancing tonight.” He says softly.

“Sounds romantic. I can’t wait.” You almost whispered, smiling up at your boyfriend.

You quickly sat up, shoving away the doctor who was patching you up. The HYDRA agents who were in the room pointed their guns at you. Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, and a few other people walked in the room. Pierce motioned for the agents to put their guns down, in which they did.

“Mission report.” Pierce says.

Instead of answering him, you stared off at the wall again. Pierce smacked you across your face when you didn’t answer him. You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking about the familiar man you seen today.

“The man on the bridge…” You looked up at Pierce. “Who was he?” You asked.

“Which one?” He asks.

“The one with the long brown hair.” You replied.

“He was part of your assignment today.” He says.

“I knew him. I knew the blonde man too.” You say softly.

Pierce started talking about how you shaped the century, but you weren’t really listening. You kept thinking about the long haired man on the bridge.

“I’m going to need you to do it one more time.” He says.

You nodded, agreeing to do it again.

“Wipe her memory.” Pierce says.

The doctor nodded and pushed you back in the chair, strapping your arms down to the arms of the chair. You tried to prepare yourself for the pain that’s about to come when you get your memory wiped, even though, you know what it feels like.

———

“Bucky, you’re not thinking rationally. Y/N needs to be stopped at all costs.” Steve says.

“I don’t care, Steve. I’m going try to get her to remember the man she’s in love with.” Bucky says.

“Barnes, she’s the Winter Soldier. She can easily kill you.” Natasha says.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He says.

“Buck…” Steve whispers.

“Don’t try to stop me, Steve. My mind is made up.” He says.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm to get him to stop walking.

“I care about her too, Buck.” Steve says softly.

“She’s still in there, Steve. I know it. Please let me do this.” Bucky says, his eyes tearing up.

Steve seen the sadness in his best friend’s eyes. He knows how much you mean to Y/N. He’s also not going to let him do this alone.

“You’re not doing this alone. You’re gonna need a team.” Steve says, referring to himself, Natasha, and Sam.

Sam and Natasha nodded in agreement, agreeing to help him out. Bucky looks at Steve and then looks at Sam and Natasha.

“I’m in charge.” Bucky says.

Steve nods.

“Suit up and get your weapons ready. Y/N needs our help.” He says.

———

Steve, Sam, and Natasha with helping Bucky get to you. Now, Bucky is standing inside of the helicarrier across from you, a few feet separating you guys.

“Please don’t make me do, doll.” Bucky pleads softly.

You stared at him with no emotion. Bucky watched as watched took a knife out of your thigh holster and flipped it in your hand. He took a deep breath before you two charged at each other. Bucky easily avoided the knife. He managed to tackled you to the ground. He yanked the knife out of your hand and threw it somewhere in the hellicarrier. He pins your legs down with his legs and pins your arms above your head, holding them down with one hand. His free hand gently caresses your cheek.

“You’re not the Winter Soldier, doll. Your name is Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.” Bucky says, trying to get through to you.

You squirmed in his hold, trying to get free. Bucky’s strength overpowered yours.

“Remember me, doll? It’s James. I’m your boyfriend.” He tells you.

You still tried to get free of his hold on you.

“This isn’t you. This is HYDRA’s control on you. You have to fight it, babydoll. Can you do that for me?” He says softly.

You used all of your strength and somehow got free of Bucky’s hold. You kneed him in the stomach to get him off of you. He groaned in pain and fell to the ground next to you. You sat up and got on top of him, pointing a gun at him.

“You’re my mission.” You growled, cocking the gun.

“Then finish it. I’m with you to the end of the line, doll. Just know, I forgive you.” Bucky says softly.

You lowered your gun, staring at Bucky in confusion and wide eyes. You were confused on why he was giving up so easily. That’s when all of your memories came flooding back into your mind like a broken dam. You dropped the gun and got off of Bucky, sitting down next to him and held your head in your heads. Your breathing became heavy and squeezed your eyes shut. Bucky sat up, keeping his eyes on you.

“Y/N?” Bucky says softly.

You finally recognized his voice. You looked up, seeing the man you fell in love with years ago.

“James?” You whispered.

“It’s me, doll.” He whispers.

You threw yourself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Tears fell from your eyes and his.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He says softly, picking you up bridal style.

———

Over a year later, you and Bucky got married and bought a house. You and him couldn’t ask for a more perfect life than this.

“Bucky.” You giggled when Bucky kissed your neck softly, his stubble tickling your neck. “Your beard is tickling me.” You say.

“You’ve never complained about it before.” Bucky says.

He spun you around and kissed you sweetly. The kiss turned heated quickly. Bucky picked you up and carried you to yours and his bedroom. He gently laid you down on the bed and hovered over you, his Army dog tags dangling above your face. Bucky smiles as he gazes down at you. You gazed up at him, moving his long hair out of his face.

“You’re unbelievably gorgeous, babydoll.” Bucky whispers before kissing you passionately.

Bucky’s hands found their way to the bottom of your -his- t-shirt and took it off of you, pulling away from your lips momentarily. His fingers traced every scar on your body before softly kissing each one of them.

Your hands tugged at Bucky’s t-shirt, wanting it off. Bucky sat back on his knees to take his shirt off. He then put his hands on the tops of your thighs, rubbing them as he gaze down at you. His hands made their way to the waistband of your leggings. He looked at you, waiting for permission. You lifted your hips as a way of giving him permission. Bucky took your leggings off and dropped them on the floor.

“How come I’m showing more skin than you?” You asked with a pout.

Bucky chuckles lightly before getting off the bed to take his sweatpants off. You took your bra and panties off while Bucky took off his boxers. He got back on the bed in between your spread legs. He leaned over you and gave you a soft kiss.

“Are you ready, babydoll?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yes.” You replied softly.

Bucky lined his hard cock at your entrance and slowly slid it in your pussy. A soft gasp left your lips. Your hands grasped onto his arms, digging your nails in his skin. Even though, you’re used to his size, it just feels different compared to what his size years ago.

“James…” You moaned softly.

“I got you, babydoll.” He almost whispers. “I’ll take care of you.” He says softly.

Bucky’s thrusts were gentle and loving, which you didn’t mind. You love it when he’s gentle and loving with you. Sometimes you want more. You and Bucky liked to switch it up between gentle and loving and quick and fast in the 40s, but now, he’s just gentle with you. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable in any way, even though he knows what you can handle and he’s known you for years.

“More please.” You begged softly.

Bucky complies to your soft begs. He sped up his thrusts. You threw your head back against the pillow, enjoying the pleasure you were receiving from your husband. Bucky leaned down, kissing along the column of your neck. He moved his lips to the side of your neck, his teeth nipping on your skin as he marked you up.

You and Bucky gazed at each other with love and adoration in your eyes. You grasped onto his dog tags, giving them a yank to pull him down for a kiss. Bucky’s lips felt soft against yours. Your hands found their way to his head, carding your fingers through his long soft brown hair. One of Bucky’s hands gently caressed your cheek.

“I love you, James.” You say softly and breathlessly.

“I love you too, babydoll.” Bucky almost whispers.

Your orgasm was building up. So was Bucky’s. He could sense it.

“You close, doll?” He pants.

You moaned and nodded your head in response. Bucky started rubbing your clit, your orgasm coming fast.

“Oh god!” You threw your head back against the pillow. “Fuck, James!” You moaned loudly.

“Cum for me, doll.” He says softly.

A loud moan left your lips as you came on his cock. Bucky rubbed your clit a few more times before focusing on his own orgasm, which wasn’t too far behind yours. A low moan left Bucky’s lips as he came inside of you. His thrusts came to a stop and he pulled out, laying down next to you. You snuggled yourself against your husband.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked after a few minutes.

“Anything, doll.” Bucky says.

“That day on the bridge and hellicarrier, how did you know I was still there?” You asked softly.

“I just knew when I seen you. You’ve always been the woman I fell in love with when we were in the Army.” He almost whispers.

You smiled and leaned up to kiss him sweetly.

“You’ve always been the man I fell in love with.” You whispered.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[buckyseternaldoll]

Five Seconds, Five Years (Part III)

header from: pinterest

✮⋆˙ Part I | Part II

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes proposed just days before the world ended — afraid he might never get another chance. Then he vanished in Wakanda. Five years later, he’s at your door — unchanged, while your whole life has moved on. Some love survives time. But what happens when life doesn’t wait?

Disclaimer: Unexpected emotional reunion, long-term separation and time displacement, vulnerable confessions, hesitation and emotional complexity, mention of Steve Rogers’ peaceful death (old age), post-trauma recovery arc, references to mental health improvement (off-grid healing), rebuilding emotional connection, gentle confrontation of past pain, pure comfort and soft domesticity, post-trauma peace arc, references to past emotional pain and healing. **This story stretches between several timelines in MCU (only loosely, not to be strictly following the year gaps)

Word Count: 4,846

You didn’t usually skip class.

Not after everything it took to get here—the money you scraped together, the fight to stay afloat, the way you had finally started taking your life seriously again.

But this morning felt… wrong.

Off.

You woke up to soft light spilling between the blinds, your duvet tangled around your legs. Your chest felt heavy, like something was sitting on it. A pressure you couldn’t name, just pressing.

Your fingers wrapped around the warm mug of coffee. You sat there in the kitchen nook of your Seoul loft, barely sipping.

Not scrolling.

Not thinking.

Just… sensing something.

A pull in your ribs.

A flutter in your gut.

And when you passed the small flower stall outside the station—the one with handwritten notes tucked into every bundle—that’s when it hit you.

A sign, scribbled in smudged black ink (translated to English):

“March 10—Pisces. Heavy-hearted. Brave. Forgiving.”

Your hands went cold.

Your breath caught.

His birthday.

Of course.

Of course your body remembered even if your calendar didn’t.

—

You didn’t go to class.

Instead, you walked.

Wandered.

Through crooked alleys and boulevards of mid-morning traffic, past the crisp scent of roasted chestnuts and motor oil, past students chattering about exams and café music echoing through glass.

You didn’t want silence.

You wanted noise.

People. Traffic. Motion. Something to drown out whatever this feeling was.

—

Sinchon was perfect for that.

Young people everywhere—students hustling through subway exits, tote bags heavy with books and iced americanos in hand. Girls linking arms, stopping to fix each other’s makeup in compact mirrors. Lines forming outside trendy cafés for limited-edition drinks.

And couples.

God—there were so many couples.

Matching outfits, matching sneakers. Holding hands in crosswalks. Taking selfies by store murals or booking time inside photobooths with sparkly filters and pastel props. You watched one couple fuss over a printout from a four-cut booth, giggling and sticking heart stickers on each other’s cheeks.

It was adorable. It was soft.

It was everything you thought you’d be doing by now.

But it wasn’t you.

And maybe that was the worst part.

You weren’t bitter—not exactly. But the loneliness scraped a little sharper on days like this. When love seemed so visible. So effortless. So normal. And you were just here, floating through a city of warm hands and soft smiles, still trying to remember how to breathe without aching.

Music bled from shopfronts—different rhythms overlapping in the air. Delivery riders zipped past on scooters, navigating the maze of alleyways like it was second nature.

It was loud.

It was full.

It was exactly the kind of place where no one paid attention to anyone else.

You wanted to be anonymous.

You wanted to disappear for just a little while.

—

You turned down the main road—the one just past the movie theater and the underground station exit—and crossed toward the bookstore that had the good imported titles in the back.

You waited at the crosswalk.

You were just one of dozens.

And that’s when you saw him.

—

At first, it was nothing.

Just a shape.

Tall. Broad shoulders under a dark jacket. Face angled down. Hair shorter than you remembered, but unmistakably him.

He turned.

Your heart nearly stopped.

He was leaner now.

Older.

More tired.

But that face—

Still the most handsome thing you’d ever seen.

And those eyes.

Cerulean burn.

That impossible, searing shade of blue you used to trace in the dark, whispering his name into the hollow of his throat. The kind of blue that saw through you. The kind of blue you didn’t forget, no matter how many calendars you turned.

And they were locked on you.

Wide.

Disbelieving.

Like he couldn’t quite trust what he was seeing.

Like maybe he thought you were the ghost.

You couldn’t breathe.

Your fingers curled at your sides.

Your mouth parted.

You didn’t even realize you were shaking until a warm gust of wind brushed against your cheek, and the world tilted.

The crosswalk light turned green.

The city surged forward.

People began to walk.

But Bucky?

He ran.

Straight into the street.

Straight through the crowd.

Eyes never leaving yours.

A delivery bike honked and veered, a girl shrieked with laughter nearby, someone cursed in Korean under their breath—and still he kept coming.

Like the world had fallen away.

Like he had waited too long to take one more step.

Like he didn’t believe in anything until he saw you again.

—

You didn’t know how you moved.

One second he was across the street, running.

The next, he was right there.

Close enough to breathe in.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough that you forgot every reason you were supposed to be okay without him.

“Bucky—”

Your voice cracked. Your lungs caught fire. You barely got his name out.

His expression was everything at once—relief, disbelief, joy so raw it looked almost painful.

And then he pulled you into him.

The hug broke you.

Not with sobs. Not with words. Just… with the sheer, overwhelming familiarity of it.

His arms.

Strong as ever.

The same way they used to wrap around you at night when the world felt too loud.

One hand against your spine, the other curling at the back of your head.

His scent.

God—it hadn’t changed.

Still that grounding mix of cedar, worn cotton, and something warm and his that clung to your hoodie like a memory that never really faded.

You buried your face in his chest.

And for a second, you forgot everything.

Forgot the years.

Forgot the pain.

Forgot that you were no longer lovers. No longer engaged.

Just two bodies clinging to the only truth that had ever made sense—this.

—

The hug lingered longer than it should have.

And when he finally pulled back, his hands still rested lightly on your arms.

He looked at you like someone who needed to double-check that you were real.

“Are you—are you travelling here?” he asked, almost shy.

You blinked at him.

Then smiled. A little broken. A little whole.

“No,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I live here now.”

“You—what?”

“I moved here. Started over. Enrolled in a language program. Fourth month in.”

His mouth parted in quiet awe.

“You did it,” he said. “You actually chased that dream.”

“You used to tease me for crying over Korean dramas.”

“I stand by it,” he smirked. “The amount of chicken and beer scenes alone—”

“Don’t you dare slander it,” you laughed, hand half-swatting his shoulder.

“God, I missed this.”

Your smile faltered. Just for a breath. But he caught it.

Before it could sink, you motioned ahead.

“There’s a little café just down the alley. I go there all the time. It’s quiet.”

“Lead the way.”

—

The café was tucked between a bingsu shop and a bookstore.

Inside, it smelled like roasted barley tea, honey, and worn books. The kind of place that felt like a warm hug on a rainy day.

The old man behind the counter—you always called him Halabeoji—lit up when he saw you.

“Ah! You’re skipping class today,” he teased in Korean.

“Only this once,” you grinned back, motioning to Bucky. “I have… a friend visiting.”

Halabeoji gave a little approving nod, then pointed to your usual spot by the window.

“For you, always the best seat.”

—

You both sat down.

Two mugs of warm yujacha arrived, unprompted. Yours had a slice of lemon. His was plain.

Bucky looked around.

“This place feels like you.”

“How so?”

“Quiet. Understated. A little cozy. A little sad.”

You snorted softly. “Thanks?”

“No, I mean it in a good way. It’s peaceful. It feels like it’s survived something.”

He sipped his tea, then glanced at you.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

“I didn’t think anyone was still looking.”

He hesitated.

Then: “Sam sent me. Intel mission.”

“Here? In Korea?”

“Yeah. That’s what surprised me too. We don’t usually get assigned Asia without a team. But Sam insisted I come alone.”

You blinked, suspicion already blooming in your chest.

“Wait. Sam’s been in touch with you?”

Bucky’s smile tilted crooked.

“Yeah. For a while.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“You blocked everyone, remember?” he said gently. “When you left the country, they respected your space. Sam said they didn’t want to track you unless it was urgent. Privacy and all that.”

You exhaled slowly.

“Still feels like… a weird coincidence.”

“It’s not,” Bucky said, looking down at his tea. “This ‘mission’? No briefing. No real intel. No partner. Just some vague excuse to look into a low-level smuggling ring. It didn’t add up. And Sam kept nudging me. ‘Take it, Buck. Just go.’”

He looked up at you then.

“I think… he wanted this to happen.”

Your heart thudded.

He swirled his tea slowly, like it helped him think.

“I think he wanted me to find you.”

You looked at him.

Carefully.

The mug in your hands had gone warm, forgotten. Your thumb traced the rim once, then twice.

“How about you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Did you want to find me? Or was it just… the mission?”

He stilled.

His shoulders sank slightly, as though the words themselves added weight.

And he didn’t answer.

Not right away.

He took another sip of yujacha.

Let the silence stretch.

Watched the steam drift upward, as if it might form the right answer for him.

You didn’t press.

You just watched him.

The set of his jaw.

The faint crease between his brows.

The scar just beneath his left eye, one you didn’t remember—and one you ached to ask about.

Finally, Bucky set the cup down.

He leaned forward a little.

Not casual.

Not composed.

Just… tired of silence.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said, voice low.

“After I left,” he continued, “after I sent that message… I shut everything off. Burned my last favor for extraction clearance and disappeared.”

“I landed in Kuala Lumpur. Rented a place above a tailor shop with broken stairs and a mosquito problem.”

He huffed a small breath of something that almost passed for a smile.

“It was the kind of place no one would look twice at. Exactly what I needed.”

You didn’t interrupt.

You could already feel the ache growing in your throat.

Because of course he didn’t just vanish. He rebuilt. In pieces.

“There was a group of pakcik (uncles) who sold breakfast near the bus stop. Half their stalls were barely standing. So I started showing up. Fixing legs. Rewiring lights. Buying kopi (coffee) at dawn. They’d laugh at my accent, make fun of my appetite, that I couldn't stand the spice—the heat. But after a while, they called me family.”

“I stayed longer than I thought I would. There was peace in it. Simple, quiet peace.”

“But every night… I’d see you.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

“In dreams. On the street. In a song. Everything reminded me of you.”

“I didn’t come back because I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t enough for you. Not like that. Not with everything so broken.”

You couldn’t breathe for a second.

You felt something burn behind your eyes—but you held it together.

Because he wasn’t done.

“After Malaysia, I went back to Romania. Spent a couple months in the mountains. Then tried Dubai—got lost in the crowd, worked off the radar, stayed low.”

“Eventually, I made my way back to the States,” Bucky said, eyes fixed on the rim of his cup. “Didn’t know where I was going. Just knew I couldn’t keep drifting.”

“I stopped by the old spot—the safehouse near Quantico. Figured someone might still show up now and then.”

He paused, huffing a quiet breath.

“That’s where I ran into Torres. Joaquin. You’d like him—fast talker, smart, good heart. He recognized me right away. Told me where to find Sam.”

“I almost didn’t go. Thought maybe it wasn’t my place anymore. But… I needed to see someone who remembered who I used to be. Someone who knew Steve.”

“So I found Sam.”

Bucky’s voice softened, his thumb slowly brushing the condensation from his mug, tracing the arc like it helped him hold onto the moment.

“I already knew Steve was gone before I saw Sam.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t look up—just kept circling the rim of his cup with a kind of quiet reverence, like speaking Steve’s name too quickly might cause it to vanish from the air.

“I saw it in a headline. Some international outlet. It was just a small article. No flashy photos. Just… ‘War Hero Steve Rogers Dies at Age 106.’”

“No ceremony. No fanfare.”

“Just a footnote in history. A paragraph about a man who changed the world.”

He finally looked up, and his eyes were tired. Still and hollow in a way that only grief knows.

“That headline didn’t even mention Peggy. Or the serum. Or that he was the only reason I ever got a second chance.”

You reached across the table without thinking. Your fingers brushed the edge of his sleeve.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t pull away.

But he also didn’t move.

He just let the silence sit for a beat before continuing.

“I think that was the moment I knew I had to stop running. Like something clicked.”

“I couldn’t keep drifting through cities pretending I didn’t still belong somewhere. That I didn’t owe it to him—or to you—to try.”

He took a breath, steadying himself.

“So I flew back. No plan. No contacts. Just showed up at the old safehouse near Thibodaux. Figured if anyone would still be in orbit… it’d be someone like Joaquin.”

“He recognized me right away. Thought I was some kind of mirage.”

“Told me Sam was down in Louisiana with his family. And before I could second-guess it, I was already halfway there.”

You could see it now—Bucky at the edge of a dock, his boots wet with salt and sweat, the sun making him squint against the bayou light. Sam turning, seeing a ghost from a past life standing ten feet away.

“He was still down in Louisiana,” Bucky murmured. “Running things with his sister, fixing up the boat.”

“Looked… tired. A little older. But he still had that fire in his eyes, you know?”

“Like the kind of man who chooses to carry the weight instead of letting it crush him.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump building in your throat. You didn’t realize how much you missed hearing Sam’s name spoken with warmth.

“I didn’t call ahead,” Bucky said. “Just walked up one morning while he was hauling crab traps out of the water.”

“He saw me and dropped the bucket. Took one look and said, ‘Damn, Barnes. Thought you died again.’”

“I told him I was starting to think that too.”

He let out a rough breath—a half-laugh, half-sigh—and shook his head a little.

“He didn’t ask for an explanation. Not right away. Just pointed to the porch and told me to sit.”

“Made me coffee. Gave me toast with way too much jam. Didn’t say a word for almost twenty minutes.”

You smiled. That sounded like Sam.

That sounded like family.

“Eventually, I told him where I’d been. Malaysia. Romania. Dubai. How I didn’t make it back in time to say goodbye to Steve.”

“He just looked at me and said, ‘Steve never doubted you’d find your way back.’”

“And I said maybe Steve was wrong.”

“And Sam called me a goddamn idiot and said, ‘Then prove him right instead.’”

You let your gaze linger on him. He looked smaller at that moment. Not weak—just stripped down. Honest.

Worn in all the places love tends to wear through.

“That’s when he offered the mission,” Bucky said, voice quieter now. “Told me there was a minor op in Seoul. Something about tech smuggling. Solo op. No backup. Real low risk.”

He looked over at you, and the edge of his mouth pulled into the faintest smile.

“But the way he pitched it? I knew. I knew it wasn’t about the mission.”

His gaze settled on you fully now. No deflection. No mask.

Just Bucky—exposed and aching.

“It was about you.”

—

The sunlight slanted deeper through the café window, bathing your table in amber-gold.

The world outside buzzed with students and bikes and the kind of everyday chaos you used to crave to feel less alone.

But inside this little café, it was still.

Quiet.

Safe.

Bucky leaned forward, the faintest smile curling at the edge of his mouth as he nudged his now-empty mug aside.

“I’ve been filling you in with all my wandering,” he murmured, “and I haven’t heard a damn thing about you.”

You blinked. Then you looked away.

He didn’t press.

“What’ve you been doing all this time, sweetheart?”

The pet name slipped out so naturally, so gently, that it made your chest ache. You didn’t even think he noticed—but of course he did. Bucky always noticed.

You drew in a slow breath.

And then, you began.

“I tried to find you,” you said, voice soft. “For months. I drained my accounts. Traveled across Europe, Asia. I retraced everywhere you might’ve gone. Asked the compound. Asked Wakanda. Sat on fire escapes and left letters and kept talking to ghosts.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t shift much—but you could see it in his eyes. The flinch.

“I lost you. And in the process… I lost someone else too.”

You didn’t say Dean’s name aloud.

Bucky didn’t ask.

“He was kind. Met him in grief therapy. And we… we tried. But I think part of me was still bleeding. I never gave him the whole version of me. And eventually… he walked away.”

You looked down at your hands, fingers curling slightly around the mug’s warm ceramic.

“I don’t blame him.”

Bucky stayed quiet—his knuckles pale, hands loosely interlaced on the table.

“Steve and Sam—they helped a lot. Kept checking in. Reminded me to eat. To sleep. To exist. When I moved here, they didn’t question it. Just… supported it.”

You reached up and tapped the necklace around your neck.

The tiny glint of metal caught in the windowlight.

“I still wear the ring you gave me,” you said quietly. “It’s always been here. Even when I tried to let go.”

Bucky’s breath hitched—almost too subtle to notice.

“Do you…” he began, then stopped, adjusting his position like the question itself hurt. “Do you still have the other one?”

You knew what he meant.

You shook your head once.

“No. I gave it back to him when we said goodbye. Told him… maybe we weren’t meant to keep holding each other.”

You hesitated, then offered a small smile.

“He was a chapter I needed. Not a replacement. Just… someone who helped me breathe again.”

Bucky nodded.

You didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until then.

—

A while later, after the café had dimmed its overhead lights and Halabeoji gave you his usual “go, go before sunset leaves you behind” wave, you and Bucky stepped out into the warm Seoul evening.

The sidewalks glowed peach from the setting sun. The air smelled like roasting chestnuts and fresh laundry.

You didn’t talk much as you walked toward Banpo.

The silence wasn’t heavy.

Just full.

—

When the Han River came into view, you turned to Bucky with a little grin.

“I’ve been coming here a lot,” you said, tilting your chin toward the park benches. “You can’t beat the view during sunset.”

“Guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’ve also been riding the KTX,” you continued, tone a little lighter. “Busan, Jeonju, Gyeongju. You’d love Gyeongju, actually—so much history. And I hiked with a group of ahjumma last spring. They brought me kimchi in tupperwares. Called me their baby goat.”

That earned a low, rough laugh from Bucky—the kind that melted something deep in your chest.

He glanced sideways.

“Did you finally try chicken-and-beer?”

“Chimaek's disappointing, actually,” you replied. “Tastes fine. But it’s not really fun without someone to share it with.”

Bucky’s smile lingered longer this time. Quiet. Full of something unreadable.

But the look he gave you was unmistakable:

I wish I had been there.

—

You found your favorite bench—the one tucked under the sycamore tree that had the best angle for catching the full sweep of golden light on the river.

It was miraculously empty.

You sat side by side.

Close, but not quite touching.

Not yet.

—

The sky bled gold and lavender over the Han River, the final edge of the sun slipping beneath the city’s jagged horizon. Lights flickered to life across bridges and distant towers, but the world at your bench stayed quiet, cocooned in soft shadows and late summer warmth.

You leaned back slightly on the bench and exhaled, your eyes following a boat carving a slow arc in the distance.

“Do you think,” you murmured, voice gentle, “we’d still be the same if none of that ever happened? If there was no war. No blip. No lost time?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. So you kept going, like the questions could fill the unease blooming in your stomach.

“Do you think we’d have found a place together? Had a cat? Two coffee mugs and a broken couch and some ridiculous cable bill because I forgot to cancel it?”

That pulled a soft breath from him—a chuckle, but one laced with something tender.

“You’d forget to cancel the cable. I’d pay for it anyway. You’d thank me by stealing all the blankets.”

You laughed quietly.

“What if we’d married before everything fell apart? What if you’d never gone to Wakanda? What if we never made promises we couldn’t keep?”

The breeze ruffled your hair, and you tucked a strand behind your ear—then stilled.

Bucky wasn’t watching the river.

He was watching you.

And he hadn’t looked away once.

You turned your head just slightly—enough to notice how close his hand had shifted.

Fingers curled near yours. Not quite touching. Just… there. A single breath away.

“You’re not looking at the sunset,” you said, quieter now.

“I’ve seen sunsets,” he murmured. “I haven’t seen you.”

The silence grew thick, and suddenly your chest felt too small for the ache curling inside it.

And then—

“I never tried to find someone else,” Bucky said, voice steady, low. “I didn’t want to.”

“I couldn’t.”

Your breath caught, but he pressed on, gaze still locked with yours.

“I told myself I should. That it made sense. That you’d moved on. That someone like me… shouldn’t hold on to something already lost.”

He paused, eyes softer now. Open.

“But my love for you never faded. It never dimmed. It just… waited. Quiet. Burning low. Still alive.”

You looked down. Your fingers shifted unconsciously—toward your necklace, where the promise ring rested against your skin. You fiddled with it gently, just to feel something solid.

“I know it’s been years,” he said. “I know you’ve walked through a hundred different lives since me. And if you tell me that you don’t feel the same anymore… I’ll understand. I won’t ask you for anything.”

His hand inched closer.

The backs of your fingers brushed.

“But if there’s still something left… even a sliver,” he whispered, “I’d stay. I’d build a life here. In Seoul.”

You turned toward him fully now, breath trembling.

“You would?”

He nodded, voice rough with conviction.

“I think I’m ready for peace. For trains and quiet mornings. For markets and cats and walks by the river. I’m ready for a life that isn’t built around running or fighting.”

“I’m ready for a life with you.”

—

You didn’t speak at first.

The sun had nearly disappeared now, its last glow stretching long shadows over the water. Everything smelled like warm stone and river breeze and late-blooming flowers.

You looked at your fingers curled around the ring on yournecklace.

You thought of Kuala Lumpur. Of him fixing street stalls and drinking kopi with strangers. Of his nightmares alone in small rooms.

You thought of Seoul. Of your Korean textbooks. Your scarf flapped in the wind as you ran for the KTX. The nights you sat right here, aching for a ghost.

You thought of Dean’s last words—we’re learning to walk without them beside us.

But Bucky was here now. Beside you. Breathing the same air. Wearing the same scars.

And for once, not asking to be saved—just to begin again.

—

Your hand slipped forward—fingers sliding between his.

He stilled.

Then looked at you like he never wanted to look away again.

“There’s more than a sliver,” you whispered. “There’s still so much of you in me.”

Bucky’s breath shuddered out.

“You sure?”

You nodded once, eyes burning, voice fragile but firm.

“Just don’t disappear again.”

He smiled. Soft. Aching. Real.

“Not unless you’re coming with me.”

He lifted your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You rested your head on his shoulder as the last light dipped below the river, and Seoul hummed to life around you.

And for the first time in years, your heartbeat didn’t feel like mourning.

It felt like home.

— Epilogue:

The morning light spilled gently through the linen curtains, pale gold and peach against the hardwood floor. Outside, the faint sound of a delivery scooter buzzed past. Birds chirped from the gingko trees across the quiet lane.

Inside, everything was still.

Bucky had woken early—as he always did—but for the first time in years, he didn’t feel the urge to reach for a weapon, or check a perimeter, or brace for another goodbye.

Instead, he reached for you.

Curled beside him, blanket tangled around your waist, lips slightly parted as you breathed steady and deep. One hand splayed against the center of his chest—always finding him, even in sleep.

He didn’t move at first.

He just stared.

You made the tiniest snuffling noise in your sleep—the same one you always made when your nose was pressed into the pillow too hard. It never failed to make his heart ache.

“God, you’re cute,” he whispered.

Then, with painstaking gentleness, he leaned in and pressed a feather-soft kiss to your temple. Then one on your cheek. Another near the corner of your mouth.

Your lashes fluttered. But you didn’t wake—not yet.

That was okay.

He could wait.

It had been six months since he called Sam to say he was done.

No more missions. No more deployments.

“I’ve given enough,” Bucky had said. “It’s time I learn how to keep something.”

Sam hadn’t argued.

In fact, he’d laughed.

Then paused.

“You sure Korea’s where you want to plant roots?”

“She’s there,” Bucky replied simply. “And I think that’s all I need.”

The South Korean government—with a quiet push from Wakandan allies and a few whispered favors from old S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts—had arranged for Bucky to live there legally under an assumed but cleared identity. James Buchanan Barnes was officially granted permanent residency under a “global protection and peacekeeping” clause that hadn’t been used in over a decade.

He rented a two-bedroom loft in Mapo-gu, not far from your university—enough space for mismatched furniture, two bookshelves full of your K-pop albums and his war novels, and one ridiculously oversized rice cooker you insisted on keeping.

It felt like home.

No missions.

Just laundry, groceries, slow breakfasts, and love that didn’t ask for anything except presence.

—

Most mornings now, Bucky walked you to class before heading to the local park. Sometimes he joined the ahjummas on their hikes—though they insisted on calling him “Baki-ssi” and feeding him dried persimmons.

One time, they tried setting him up with someone.

“Too late,” he said, holding up his hand where your ring glinted from its new place on his finger. “Mine’s better.”

They squealed. And then gave him more persimmons.

The ahjussi downstairs—Mr. Gu—had made it his mission to teach Bucky the art of drinking makgeolli like a proper local.

“Slow. Steady. Don’t stand up too fast.”

“Kind of like my whole life,” Bucky muttered.

—

You stirred beside him now—eyes still closed, hand twitching slightly against his chest.

“Mm… that better not be sunlight I feel,” you mumbled sleepily.

“Sorry, doll,” he whispered, brushing a thumb down your cheek. “But you were too pretty to let sleep through it.”

Your lips tugged up into a crooked, sleepy smile.

“You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.”

You finally opened your eyes.

Bleary. Beautiful.

Bucky leaned in again, this time kissing your forehead with something reverent—like he was still learning he was allowed to.

“Let’s stay in today,” you murmured.

“Even if the ahjumma text me angry hiking emojis?”

“Even then.”

You turned your face toward him and kissed his jaw—lazy, unhurried, like you had forever.

And you did.

—

Later, he’d make you pancakes—the slightly uneven kind you always claimed tasted better because they were made by him.

You’d curl up together by the window with coffee and soft jazz playing low in the background.

The world would keep spinning. The past would always be there.

But for once, so would the future.

And for James Buchanan Barnes—a man once lost to time, memory, and war—that was more than enough.

[societyfolklore]

Ready or Not

Title: Ready or Not Pairing: Steve Roger x Female Reader

Summary: Steve has you all open for him now- he’s not holding anything back.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Dom!Steve, Gentleman-to-Deviant dynamic, power imbalance, manipulation/coercion (soft-edged), size kink, praise kink, unprotected sex/creampie, possession kink, dubious consent, overstimulation, heavy smut, emotional manipulation masked as tenderness.

A/N: Follow up to ‘Not Ready Yet’

You didn’t even hear him move at first. Your breath came in shallow pulls, your limbs too weak to lift, your muscles still twitching in the aftermath of everything Steve’d just done to you. The ache between your thighs was hot, pulsing with a mix of soreness and something sweeter, wetter. You weren’t sure if it was your heartbeat echoing in your ribs or the ghost of his voice still whispering through your head.

You blinked slowly, trying to center yourself, but the room seemed to tilt and spin softly around the edges. The sheets clung to your back with sweat, your skin prickling as cool air brushed over the open mess between your legs.

Then you heard it–a slow, unmistakable sound. The metal of his zipper lowering.

Your head turned toward it, sluggish and heavy, like you weren’t in control of your body anymore.

Steve stood at the foot of the bed, eyes trained on you like a predator who’d already caught his prey and was savoring the next bite. His blue eyes glinted beneath the low light, sharp and unwavering, framed by tousled blonde hair that looked almost golden against the dim room. He was stroking himself lazily, one large hand wrapped around the thick length of his cock. It was hard already- flushed at the tip, veined and slick from the precum beading there. Massive.

Your gut twisted. Your cunt clenched weakly, still fluttering from before.

He was hard because of you.

And he looked completely composed. Relaxed. Like he hadn’t just spent the last hour slowly pulling you apart with his hands and watching you fall to pieces.

He caught you staring and let out a soft hum, almost amused.

“All twitching, huh?” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your bare, swollen cunt. You flinched when he stepped forward, but it wasn’t just a step- he climbed onto the bed on his knees, settling between your spread thighs with deliberate ease. The mattress dipped under his weight as he crawled closer, close enough for his knees to keep your legs spread open... but more importantly, close enough to touch.

His cock, already glistening with precum, bobbed against your slick folds as he shifted closer. He guided himself downward with one hand, the head of it nudging through the mess between your thighs. He groaned, low and pleased, as he began to rub himself between your soaked lips, slow and unhurried. His length slid up and down, painting your clit with the sticky heat of his precum, mixing with your arousal until everything was wet, swollen, and slippery. Steve let out a low whistle under his breath, eyes flicking between your face and the slick mess between your thighs.

“Y'all messy baby,” he murmured, voice low and dark with satisfaction. “That all for me, sweetheart? You want me that bad?”

He gave another lazy thrust through your folds, slow and indulgent, dragging the tip of his cock from your entrance up to your clit again, making your whole body twitch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking against you. “Made you wait too long, huh? Poor baby- just soaking for it now.”

You twitched beneath him, overstimulated and breathless.

Then he pressed the head of his cock right to your entrance. Just the tip. Just enough to test your swollen opening.

Your open hole quivered instinctively, trying to close around him, and it made him groan- deep and low from his chest. He didn’t push, not yet- just held there, watching the way your body tried to suck him in and shy away at the same time.

“God,” he rasped, hips twitching forward. “She’s kissing me. Such a sweet pussy for her Captain.”

His cockhead throbbed, and you felt the sticky bead of precum smearing along your entrance as he rocked against you slowly, letting the tip grind in maddening circles that made your breath hitch.

You gasped, a high whimper caught in your throat. It still ached there. Still sore. And you were already clenching around nothing- around just his tip- like your body was begging for more, even as it tried to resist it. The contradiction made your head spin.

You could feel yourself 'mouthing him', pulsing close, gripping and releasing around the ridge of him like your body couldn’t decide if it wanted to pull him in or force him out. He was right- those tiny, greedy contractions did feel like kisses. Like your cunt was trying to seduce him back inside.

Steve groaned again, deeper this time, the sound vibrating against your skin. "She knows who she belongs to. Doesn't even need you to say it, sweetheart. Your body's already begging me." 

But Steve didn’t push forward. Instead, he pulled back, dragging the head back up, slapping it lightly against your clit. Once. Twice. Your hips jerked.

And then, as you tried to catch your breath, the question slipped from your lips. “Steve… should we- do we need a…?”

He paused, just long enough to make you think he might stop.

Then he leaned forward, close enough for his lips to graze your ear.

“We don’t need one of those, baby,” he said, warm and sure. “I want to feel you. Like I’m meant to.”

His voice poured over you, low and coaxing, like melted honey hiding a sharp edge. Each word was carefully chosen, sweetened to soothe, to slip past your resistance.

He kissed your cheek, your temple, the words seeping into your skin like heat. Like ownership.

“You want me to feel good too, don’t you?” he murmured again, slower this time, like he was speaking to something fragile. “Don't say no, sweetheart. You've been so good for me already. Let my hand inside, you gotta let me touch you like this.. You're so sweet. Let me feel ya all wet and warm.”

His hand slid along your thigh, thumb stroking gently, keeping you calm even as your pulse spiked. You felt like you were floating, untethered from reason, from caution. Everything about him wrapped around you like a warm net.

“You’ve taken everything else I gave you tonight,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “Let me take this too.”

You didn’t respond. But when he lined himself up again, his cockhead slick and heavy, and began to push in- slowly, deeply- your body didn’t stop him. It couldn't after what he’d done. After how he’d worked you, softened you, praised you like you were something precious.

Your legs trembled, but you didn’t close them. You didn’t run. You just let him in.

“Atta girl…” he murmured.

The pressure was unbearable. Even after everything, you weren’t ready. Even after the way he’d worked you open, worshipped you with his hand until you sobbed his name- you still weren’t ready for this. For him. But Steve was slow- so slow- pushing in just an inch, then another, every movement stealing the breath from your lungs as the thickest part of him spread you wider than you thought possible.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his hand came up, warm and steady, cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, slow and gentle- soothing, even as your eyes watered from the ache. “All the way,” he murmured, voice soft like a lullaby as he pushed deeper, inch by devastating inch. You could feel the thick sides of his cock stretching you wider, the pressure blooming into pain-pleasure that stole your breath.

“Yeah, f-fuuck baby…” he groaned again, as your cunt clenched helplessly around him. “Just like that.”

His hips met yours at last, the full length of him buried so deep you felt split open around him, completely possessed.  Your head going empty. "Almost there." 

You gasped- sharp and breathless- as your core stretched to take him. Your vision sparked, tears springing to your eyes, your thighs twitching as your hips tried to shift, to retreat. He was too deep. Too much. Your body was fluttering, clenching, trying to make space for him but failing.

His cock pushed up against your cervix, and you tried to wiggle- just a little- to get comfortable, to breathe. The ache was real, pulsing and bright, pressure blooming like a bruise already forming.

But Steve just smiled.

He leaned down, his broad chest flattening you against the mattress, the weight of him grounding you completely.

“No, sweetheart,” he murmured against your ear. While he pushed your thigh up letting him get deeper “Stay still. You’re doing so good.”

He didn’t thrust. Lingering there , buried deep, unmoving- like he was settling in. Like you were where he belonged. The fullness burned, your body trying to adjust, trying not to panic.

Steve's lips brushed the curve of your throat, soft and slow, while his cock throbbed deep inside you.

“I’m so glad we waited,” he said, almost reverent. “Didn’t rush this. You were worth it. Every slow touch. Every kiss. Every night I wanted to take you, but didn’t. You were worth waiting for.”

He leaned in as he said it, brushing a kiss against your cheek like a reward. His hand never stopped petting your thigh, soothing over trembling skin like he thought that gentleness could erase the sharp stretch burning deep inside you. Like his sweetness could distract you from the way he had you split around him.

You felt your throat tighten. Shame? Guilt? Gratitude? Something tangled and thick and hard to breathe through.

Your body still shook. Your mind reeled, trapped somewhere between heat and hesitation, caught in a fog of arousal and disbelief. You wanted to speak, to say something solid. But the words slipped like water through your fingers.

“Steve,” you breathed. It was barely a protest. Just a cracked sound in your throat. “This feels- I don’t know… I don’t know if- ”

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting you off with a soft hush, brushing your hair back with careful fingers, his hand stroking your thigh in long, grounding sweeps. “I know it’s a lot. I know how full you are, sweetheart. But look at you, baby. You’re taking it. You’re doing so well.”

He leaned down again, pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. “You’re making me so proud.”

You weren’t sure if the wetness between your legs was from arousal or the leftover mess from before. Everything was slick, every tiny movement overwhelming, every breath dragging heat through your lungs like smoke. You weren’t sure if the tightness in your chest was dread or need. Or both. Maybe both.

But when he rocked his hips- just once, slow and deep- your breath caught. The stretch reignited, your body clenching instinctively, trembling as your insides fluttered around him.

A broken noise escaped you. Somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

“No one else is gonna feel like I do,” Steve whispered, his lips brushing your jaw like a lover’s. His cock dragged against that tender, swollen place deep inside you, and your back arched in response. “No one else is gonna fuck you this full. This deep.”

He paused, just enough to let the words sink in. Then he pressed in again, just a fraction deeper, stealing your breath.

“You’re the Captain’s girl,” he said, softer now. “Say it.”

You hesitated. That flicker of doubt flared again, sharp and bright. Your hands trembled at your sides. Your body was betraying you, clenching around him like you needed it, but your mind was still caught- spinning.

“Say you’re mine, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice low and coaxing, as his cock ground deeper. You could feel him pressing against the barrier of your resistance, not pushing further- yet- but testing it. “I need to hear it.”

His hand moved down again, rubbing your clit in tight, knowing circles that sent sparks shooting up your spine. His other hand gripped your hip tighter, anchoring you in place, forcing you to feel every inch of him pulsing inside.

You shook. Your voice caught.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, the words cracking out of you like confession.

And Steve grinned those blue eyes of his twinkled and made you melt. his hair slightly falling over his forehead. "Yeah you are.." He began to move- slow, steady thrusts that forced whimpers from your throat, your walls clenching weakly around him.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice honey-sweet and low, even as the rhythm of his hips grew more deliberate. “Taking me so fucking good. Gonna make you mine all over again.”

The stretch still stung. Every push inside scraped over the raw ache of your walls, making your whole body flinch with it- but he didn’t stop. He moved through your resistance like he didn’t notice- or didn’t care. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe all that mattered was the way your body opened for him, the way it clung to him, sucked him deeper no matter how overwhelmed you felt.

It hurt. God, it hurt. But every time he drew his hips back and thrust in again, the pain shifted it burned into something else, it was nothing short of bliss. White-hot and unbearable. And when he caught just the right angle, dragging the thick ridge of his cock along that swollen, tender place inside you, colors splashed behind your eyes like fireworks. "Ugh! St-eve.." 

He groaned when you cried out, a soft keen slipping free without permission. The sound made his pace stutter, his hips bucking deeper with a pleased grunt. “Fuck, you feel that? Look at you, making all those pretty noises just for me.”

His hand gripped your thigh tighter, firm and unyielding, guiding the angle, rocking his hips up with each stroke until you felt like you could barely breathe. His other hand slid up to cup your jaw again, holding you in place like you were something delicate- and already his.

“Gonna ruin you, baby,” he growled, still sounding so fucking sweet. “One stroke at a time.”

You couldn’t stop it. The build came fast- your body already on edge, every nerve frayed from how he touched you, opened you, claimed you. Steve kept moving, hips rolling slow at first, then plunging deeper, fuller, forcing obscene wet sounds out of you with every thrust. The rhythm was deliberate, ruinous.

You could feel everything- the way his thick length curved up, dragging over that raw spot again and again, lighting up every nerve ending until your thighs trembled around his hips, useless and spent. His weight pressed down, anchoring you, and there was no escaping it, no dodging the stretch, the slide, the way it filled you again and again.

Every movement seemed to dig deeper, forcing the breath from your lungs, making your spine arch off the mattress in search of something- relief, surrender, more. Your clit throbbed, the friction against it undeniable, and every pull out made your body beg to be filled again, need clenching deep in your belly like a fist.

Your body wasn’t just reacting- it was pleading.

“That's it,” Steve murmured between clenched teeth, voice rough and hungry as he fucked you through it. “Squeeze me, baby- show me you want it.”

Your body betrayed you completely- tightening, fluttering, clinging to every inch of him like you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go. Your muscles clenched in time with the driving thrust of his hips, your cunt griping hard, desperate to keep him locked inside. You felt the pressure building again, that unbearable swell rising through your belly, your thighs tightening as your vision sparked.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Steve groaned, his voice unraveling as he pushed harder, deeper, hitting that tender spot that made fireworks burst behind your eyes. “So fucking tight when you’re close. You were made to come on America's cock, weren’t you?”

Your breath shuddered, lips parting on a gasp. A moan fell from you- high, wrecked, helpless.

And then you came, hard and fast, your cunt pulsing violently around him, clenching tight like your body wanted to lock him in. You cried out, body convulsing beneath his, legs twitching as he fucked you through it. He groaned, the sound filthy and desperate, lost in how tight you were as your orgasm milked his cock, the wet suck of you wrapped around him only driving him harder. The pleasure was blinding, crashing over you like a wave you couldn’t stop riding.

Steve didn’t slow down. Didn’t let up. He chased you right through your orgasm, chasing his own.

And Steve didn’t pull out.

His rhythm stuttered, hips grinding in tight, rough thrusts as his cock throbbed deep inside you. He groaned from his chest, voice raw and wrecked, as he pushed as deep as your body would allow and then spilled into you. You felt it all- the heat, the flood, the thick pulses of him pouring into your stretched cunt. It was too much and not enough, every throb branding you from the inside.

“There we go,” he groaned, voice shaking as he held you down. “That’s it, baby. Take all of it. Don’t waste it..”

You whined beneath him. Dazed. Overwhelmed. The mess of it slick between your thighs, leaking out from where you were still joined, running down and soaking into the sheets, your cunt still fluttering weakly around him, refusing to let go.

He didn’t move. Just stayed there. Fully sheathed. Buried to the hilt.

The weight of him was a blanket over you, hot and heavy and possessive. His broad frame pressed down on you, pinning you into the mattress. Every inch of him was dense with muscle, a living cage you couldn't escape, not even if you'd wanted to. He pulsed one more time inside you, and you felt it- that last twitch of him trying to claim even more. Your body, exhausted and sensitive, could do nothing but take it.

His chest rose and fell against yours as he exhaled, breath ghosting across your cheek. You didn’t know if the tears on your face were from pleasure or the shock of how deeply he’d taken you.

Then he kissed your temple.

“You were worth waiting for,” Steve whispered again, voice soft but thick with something darker underneath. He brushed your hair back with fingers that trembled slightly from the force of what he’d just done to you. “But now you’re mine. Really my girl.”

He said it like a vow. Like a truth that had always existed- and now there was no going back. Tags: @ohdrey89 @venunsgirl (If anyone else to be tagged I'm sorry!)