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yieldtotemptation · 2 months ago

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CRAZY ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

Oh, it’s fucked up; the power dynamics are all over the place.

You were her manager, and now you’re technically her boss, and it’s all led to this weird feedback loop where Chaewon swears she doesn’t like being told what to do and you swear that you believe women should be treated with respect.

Never mind that it all goes out the window when you’ve drawn the curtains shut and you’re bending her over your desk and tugging out the butt plug you kindly requested she walk around with all day.

And so:

“If you think I’m some around-the-clock booty call that will show up whenever you get a boner, then—”

“Chaewon,” you interrupt.

Stare at the girl.

Catching her in the midst of removing her earrings, bracelets, really any loose items that could end up between the couch cushions or underneath a stack of files, only to be discovered by some poor cleaner in the early hours of the morning.

Perched up on your desk, heaven-sent and already stark-naked. Looking far too pretty for her own good, and just plain, flat-out, in-your-face fuckable.

Oh.

She’s already got your blood rushing.

“Really?”

Chaewon bites her lip. Holds it for a beat. Lets it go and sighs. Unable to help herself. “You’re such a little shit.”

You laugh right in her face. “Little is an interesting choice of words.”

"And you're so lucky I think you're cute."

A step forward, to put her in reach. To skate a hand up her thigh, rubbing out the tension coiled up in her muscles. Ending up on the curve of the most generous ass your palms have ever been graced with. Giving a gentle squeeze, massaging into the bare, vanilla expanse, hoping you’re already on the path to forgiveness.

It goes without saying, the two of you have run this same routine many times before.

(Yeah. You’ve fucked Chaewon a lot.)

“I can’t believe you just made me walk in front of the entire floor to get to your office. Everyone was staring.” Chaewon makes this loud, keening noise, pretty much guaranteeing that everyone’s listening now as well. “After that shit you pulled at the Christmas party.”

You lean close, kisses into her neck, apologies over her pulse. “Everyone was too drunk to notice what we were doing.”

Her eyes narrow. “You made me cum in the middle of the dancefloor.”

“And you’re welcome.” You’re laughing harder, right as she starts to do her whole Chaewon thing.

Saying one (usually insulting) thing with her mouth but screaming something else entirely with her body.

In this case, it’s in this subtle adjustment of her hips. A tilt, a lean, an angle so precise, giving you exclusive access to put your hands on where she’s most sensitive—which is pretty much everywhere. And really, you can’t be held at fault for whatever consequences follow because she makes it so easy.

It’s hard to imagine anyone else getting as crazy over the slightest touch. A shiver at the brush of your fingertips, trembling when your grip tightens, gets a little bit rough.

And when you fall into a rhythm, when it’s just the two of you and you’re curling your digits in her cunt and kissing all the right spots on her skin, and you’re making her feel like you’re everywhere all at once, it’s like she’s made of pure energy. Like she’s going to combust.

It does insane things for your ego.

It’s also so, unfathomably hot.

“God, I can’t believe I have to deal with such an ass—" But Chaewon never gets to finish that thought, because your fingers are getting lower, inching closer to that spot that grants you mercy every time; that makes her voice crack and her eyes lose all focus and has her forget any reason she has to ever be mad at you.

The moans that you tease out of her, each taking the shape of your name; the familiar, longing whimpers she makes when you do what no one else does and deny her.

It’s the same dangerous game every time.

Take her some place a little too public, with just enough risk to make her wet and ready and absolutely needy at the thought of getting caught. Get a hand in that bob of blonde, or black, or red; run your tongue over the hollow of her throat, or up the fine curve of her thigh, or trail down the ridges of her abs, just making her delirious.

And yeah, sure, most of the time it seems like you’re the one doing the leading, but look closer, past the pleas and the pouts and who’s on her knees at the feet of who; and realise that it’s mostly just you trying to keep up with her appetite.

“You don’t have to keep up the act,” you’re saying, “But you might want to try and keep your voice down.”

Chaewon’s rolling her eyes, petulant. She’s got the whole bratty thing nailed to a tee. “Your fault.”

Oh, she’s a vision, that’s for sure. God definitely took his time when making her, with all her grace and poise and her ludicrously bouncy tits and unreasonably slutty little waist. All just begging to be fucked askew. To put a smudge on her perfection. Be it the flushed cheeks, the glossed eyes, the already-on-its-way to being properly fucked-up hair—

The cocky smile and the gall to say, “You’re usually kissing me by now.”

You hardly have any complaints when she wraps your tie around her fist, yanks you forward, providing an unnecessary guide for your mouth to hers.

Like always, it’s messy.

There’s rarely any intention there; just kiss the smoking hot girl that’s right in front of you, let her breathe you in and flood your mouth with her tongue while your hands do their best to draw along her figure and map out each of her perfect lines and immaculate curves.

Seeking out where she’s hottest.

There’s a cry muffled against your lips when your fingers get particularly adventurous, but it’s pure searing heat, all of it. All of her. Bottled up in the tiniest of packages, a Pandora’s box of sin, just waiting for you to come and let it out.

Chaewon’s knees spread wider, feet hooking around your back, making you strain against the wetness building between her thighs.

She gets in real close, letting her tongue slide along your jaw, your neck and finally your ear where she’s slurring the same variations of previous filthy and barely-lucid requests, “Get these clothes off before I tear them off.”

Your tie doesn’t stand a chance. Neither do any of the buttons on your shirt, your belt-buckle, your pants which land at your ankles and are kicked off to join an ever-growing pile on your couch.

“I need to feel you, like, right fucking now—”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “What happened to not being an around-the-clock booty call?”

“Just, shut up already.”

“Magic word first.”

“Please.”

But the problem, as always, is where the hell to start.

Chaewon, from head-to-toe, is a literal divine being—a goddess, personified.

A Greek epic made flesh, come down from the top of a mountain to fuck around with the mortals, leave them as dried husks to craft myths in her wake.

That’s what you’re dealing with here.

Perhaps it’s your destiny too. To climb that mountain, to conquer that peak. To mark, bruise, claim. Run your fingers over her; her tiny waist, her smooth, sweat-stained skin, her heart-wrenchingly soft ass.

All heat and need, right in the palm of your hand, begging for you to leave your own brand of worship and bring her down into the dirt with the rest of the living.

And despite the repetitions, the countless dark corners and quiet rooms that are forever stained with your cum and permeating with her scent; it still feels like a novelty every time.

So, it only makes sense to start with a personal favourite.

Her breasts.

“Always with my tits,” Chaewon snarks, but it’s more a statement of acceptance than any kind of protest.

She’s already leaning back onto your desk, her eyes closing as your fingers rise up her sides, and she’s sighing, nipples tightening at just the thought of your touch.

Begging for more pressure, for a pinch, a tug. Or just your teeth.

“It’s a classic for a reason,” you muse, and you dive right in, mouth around one of her hardened tips, glueing your tongue to the nub.

See, Chaewon’s tits are as unfairly incredible as the rest of her. Perfect wonders of gravity and genetics that fill up your hands and spill past your fingers; that bounce and jiggle and sway so nicely when you fuck her just right.

And when you taste, give a hard, gratuitous suck on one—there’s a choked-out cry, a stab of her nails into your shoulders, a kick of her heel into your back.

Really, not one for subtleties, your Chaewon.

Always quick to tell you exactly what she needs in every single moment; if not with her words then with the way she squirms and gasps and bites down on her lower lip until it’s a darker shade of red than the lipstick she walked in with.

And even then, each pleading request, each beg sloppily kissed into your shoulder, or your chest, or up and down your cock, amounts to the same thing: use me, use me now, use me good. Like a toy, a submissive little fuckdoll that’s just waiting to be picked up and played with until the batteries die.

That’s your Chaewon:

Preciously soft where it matters, razor sharp where it counts. Built to take it rough, but tragically doomed to be so fucking sensitive.

You flick your tongue; once, twice, over and over. Harder, rougher, grazing your molars against skin, and she’s curving into you, pushing her chest closer. Grinding herself into your waist, hips bucking. Searching for more friction. More heat.

Just the noises she makes. She’s generous with her moans, her breaths all chopped up and hitching with every tug of your teeth. It’s the worst cliché but yeah, her body is literally a fine instrument, musical; play the right notes and she’ll scream you a melody.

You idly wonder if she was like this before you met her.

The loving sigh of your name is all the answer you need.

Hands twist in your hair now, she’s getting impatient; anything to get you to give her what she craves. But you switch. From one perfect swell to another, giving it the same treatment, the same shameless licks and laps.

“More,” Chaewon tries, and then amends to a whimpering, “Please?”

Jesus Christ.

You take a finger, drag it along the valley of her wonderful chest, teasing down her stomach until it reaches the scorching heat between her legs.

Finding her wet, puffy. Feeling her pulse. Wanting to be made whole.

A groan bursting from her throat before she can even stop it—“Oh, fuck!”

“Chaewon,” you huff out, reproachingly, but it’s barely heard over the slick sounds of her cunt giving way. It’s heady, a rush you feel straight in your veins, just the idea that you could tear her apart with a single finger.

But that doesn’t mean you should just stop with one.

A second finger, your middle, eases in. It’s so downright pornographic, the way she opens up for you. How her pussy squeezes around you, how it soaks your digits, how it clenches and sears heat onto your skin. And how when you press in the pad of your thumb firmly against the swollen bud of her clit, just that achingly light touch of pressure, it sends her spiralling.

“Gah, you’re so fucking mean,” Chaewon rips through another moan, a filthy curse, and it’s really uncalled for. Because this is what she comes to you for.

Drops everything she’s doing, ditches anyone she’s with. She’d cross an entire ocean just to have you torture her with your lips, or your tongue. To have your fingers bringing her to her knees, or your cock just fucking her brainless.

Really, to her, every part of you is a little death, a stairway to an afterlife where it’s just the pure sensation of bliss and your cock, making her feel complete.

“And you’re terrible at keeping quiet,” you accuse, but you’re not doing anything to help her. Just making it all that much worse, ruining her so sweetly with a curl or a twist or a merciless press down. “No idea what I’m going to do with you. Naughty, naughty, naughty.”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to punish me,” is Chaewon’s accusation, reaching the same conclusions you have. Reading your mind before you can even get a word out—grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer, hips rising up to meet the hand that will be her undoing. “How am I the naughty one when you’re the one that just loves to ruin me. Make me cum in front of everyone every chance you get. Fuck, if they couldn’t see it running down my thighs they definitely saw it on my face.”

And her eyes are shutting now, and she’s flashing back, feeling it all over again. The strobing lights, the unnecessarily loud bass. The throng of bodies pushed too close together and there’s Chaewon, in the tightest, shortest, sluttiest dress twirling around and fucking you with just the twerk of her ass from across the room.

Your own personal siren, luring you to your doom.

Or hers.

So, yeah, maybe you’re the villain for meeting her in the middle, grinding your body against hers, whispering plans of taking her to a closet, or a bathroom, or the fucking balcony and ruining that tragically flimsy strip of fabric and making her cum so hard she’ll never look at the sky the same way again.

And maybe you could still have some deniability if any one of those ideas came to fruition instead of what happened next. Because you just couldn’t stop yourself when she was already filling your mouth with her tongue, your hands with her tits, her ass, and it was all too easy to dip your fingers lower and under her dress and—

Do exactly the same thing you’re doing now.

“There were cameras there too,” Chaewon realises, “God, I can’t believe how stupid you make me.”

“I can’t be held responsible for any of your actions after fucking you senseless, sweetheart,” you chuckle against her neck, and lower to her shoulder.

“You absolutely can, this is all because of you,” she whines, and it’s petulant and bratty, and so goddamn cute. It’s unreal. “You just can’t help yourself. Can’t help trying to fuck me up every chance you get.”

“You let me.”

“Because you make it so fucking good,” and there’s the admission, the natural end point every time this same argument arises.

“Oh you poor, poor girl,” you murmur into the sweetness of her skin, sucking in the edges of her collarbone, leaving marks you know you’ll come back to, if not now then tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. “Too gorgeous for your own good. Just too pretty, too tempting. All mine.”

It’s obvious what you’re doing, feeding into Chaewon’s praise kink. She’s openly admitted it, she likes being told she looks good, loves the reward of your attention. Not just what you say, but the way you say it. The whisper into her skin when you tell her how hard she makes you. The grunt into her ear when you remind her that no one takes you as nice as she does. And the rough groan when you call her a whore, a beautiful, terrible little slut that’s going to rob you of all the cum you have.

But most of all, she loves the honest, direct command when you tell her that she’s yours.

And it’s so, so potent.

You don’t miss the smirk against your cheek, the kisses she’s started peppering across your forehead. Don’t miss how she’s drenching your fingers, filling up your palm with her juices, so delighted to have your hand fucking the hell out of her cunt and faster, filling her, filling the room with these desperate needy sounds.

She’s panting, whining into your ears these sweet little nothings that make you feel like you could fuck a hole straight through the nearest wall. And you can’t help it, you’re leaning into it, plunging your fingers in and out of her like you’re trying to set a new personal best. Quickest time to make Chaewon scream. To shatter her right there in the middle of your office, and get some unfortunate intern to clean up the mess she leaves behind.

Her lips clumsily dragging along your earlobe tells you all you need to know, “You’re going to make me cum again, you fuck, I hate how easy it is for you to—”

You slide a third finger in, and it’s like you’ve flipped a switch.

A choking groan when you start to hit that spot that makes her tighten around you. That makes her legs shake, her knees bang against your hips and she just keeps getting wetter and wetter.

The beg in her body. Pleading, needing to be pushed over that edge. And so, you do.

You see it coming before she does, spot the scrunch in her face, the flinch across her features, that perfect, hot little mouth widening and needing to be captured in a kiss because she’s always so fucking loud when she cums.

Muted, “fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” and then, “why are you so good at this?”, and she’s rocking against your hand, pussy desperately swallowing your fingers, the filthy slaps of skin and skin and the squelching that echoes off the glass walls.

At last, the release.

Everything built up in the anticipation, in her no doubt rush to be back in front of you, to end up wrecking another piece of furniture or a room, and not give a flying fuck because there’s nothing else that matters but the high of her orgasm.

Only, it’s just the first one. And it’s not enough.

God, there really are fewer things in life you love more than making her cum.

So, it only makes sense to do it again.

Unfortunately, she’s faded away for a bit.

It’s your job to bring her back.

A kiss on her forehead to remind her to come up for air, to let the world come rushing back into the room. But Chaewon’s not quite there yet.

She pants, pats your wrist, drawls, “Please, just, give me a second. Just a little bit. Too intense.”

Unfortunately, you’ve already made up your mind.

You push off her, giving her the shortest of seconds to catch her breath, claw her way back to some semblance of sanity before you start to make your way down her body.

She deserves it, all of it. Kisses on every inch of hot, sweaty skin.

Revel in the aftershocks that make her tremble. Make her sigh when your lips drag down her chest, return a tongue to her nipple, feel it shiver on your tastebuds. Get lower and lower, let her legs give way, making your destination clear.

It’s impossible to miss all these tiny little reactions, these quivers and shakes. The gasps at the sticky trail your fingers are leaving behind.

She’s a mess already, all because of you, and you can’t get enough of the power in that.

Right until you’re on your knees.

“I think I like the look of this,” Chaewon lets out a breezy laugh, so pleased to rest her legs over your shoulders.

You tilt your head, raise an eyebrow. And then get right in, drag a tongue from bottom to top.

Chaewon’s thighs clatter on either side of your head.

And now you return her laugh, “You seriously think you’re in charge right now?”

Her hands flail, and it’s so cute the way she tries to reach down, shuffle her cunt back onto your lips. Get her fingers in the back of your head, tugging at the strands. “Just,” she sighs, and sighs louder when you don’t immediately give in, “Let a girl fantasise, would you?”

“Only because you asked nicely.”

“Good,” and she pulls you back in, blessing you with the most pleasant of whines when she so kindly requests, “Now, pretty please, would you just fuck me with your mouth for, like, a second, okay?”

“Nice to see you still have your manners,” you say, already sucking a bruise into her skin. “We just might make a lady out of you yet.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Chaewon’s words barely leave her mouth before they trail off, lost somewhere between a laugh that turns into a moan that cuts right off into a gasp when your tongue slides through her slit.

You taste her. Really, taking your time. Savouring her flavour.

And she’s got so much for you, making a mess of your chin already, and you make a mental note to add your carpet to the long list of surfaces she’s left forever unsalvageable.

It’s a wonder, truly, how delicate she is, how little she can take without straight-up disintegrating. The fact that the slight press of your lips makes her breaths stall, a brief swipe of your tongue causes her thighs to tremble and when you suck just right she needs to work every muscle in her body to stop from screaming.

You’re not even trying that hard.

Just enjoying the taste of her pussy.

It’s a fragile balance; Chaewon’s cunt is a sweet science. Build her up quick, keep her just on the edge of too much. Leave her hanging, begging, just enough anguish so she doesn’t hurtle over into that oblivion she so desperately craves.

You swirl your tongue, pressing in, reintroducing yourself to each one of her nerve endings. Every fold and dip intensely familiar, like there’s the one that makes her thighs quiver and there’s the one that makes her toes curl, and oh, when you push your tongue in right here and use this exact amount of pressure—

“Holy fuck—your fucking tongue—”

Yeah, that spot might as well have your fucking name on it.

Her hands say everything she’s too choked up to get out. In your hair, pulling, clawing at your scalp, urging you to go on. Trying, so desperately hard, to fuck your face, whimpering in despair the entire time, eventually getting out, “Seriously, what the fuck. How the fuck can you just do this?”

“Just how good you taste, baby,” you speak into her cunt, even though you know she was never really expecting an answer. Just wanted some acknowledgment of the things you do to her.

But maybe she has a point—this skill you’ve built up for breaking Chaewon. Maybe it’s the way you’re so thorough, so precise. So greedy for her. Like you could never get enough. Just eat her out until your jaw gets tired, your tongue loses all strength, your body just gives out.

And even then.

You push your tongue inside, and it’s heaven, just pure heaven, to feel her clamp down around you. Her whole body thrumming against your mouth, her thighs tensing on either side of your face, her stomach tightening underneath the pressure of your palm.

You suck hard on her clit, and—

“Christ, you fucking—” she curses, failing to contribute anything else, besides a dying wail of your name.

“Shhh,” you hush into her folds, but it’s a fruitless endeavour. Chaewon has never once in her life been the quiet type.

“Oh, fuck off,” Chaewon says, breathing deeply, something of a laugh creeping out her throat. “You fucking love it. Love the idea of everyone knowing what a slut I am for you. Love having everyone see me and know immediately that you’ve had your mouth on me. That it’s your cum dripping out of my cunt.”

“Guilty,” you say, intending it to come out as an apology. But really, it’s just boasting at this point.

It’s all a test to you, a game. See how loud you can get Chaewon to be. How easy you can overcome her self-control, what little shreds of dignity she has intact. Try to put a thick, white stain on her flawless public image.

And you always win.

Every time she cums, you win.

So, you keep going.

Push the pace just a little, push her. Tongue laving, curling around her clit. Flicking and suckling until she’s just a puddle of needy noises and boneless limbs.

You look up at her, peer over her mound, see her chest rising and falling, her cheeks flushed and eyes hazed over with this utterly devastating look of pure want—so wet and messy and perfect. Like she’s drowning in it, even though you’re the one quickly running out of oxygen between her legs.

She’s so close, just needs that extra bit of effort. That little twirl of your tongue that turns her knees to jelly. And her pussy pulses against your lips, spine lifting off the desk, head banging against the wood.

She’s aching.

Sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing spectacularly at keeping her voice down, keeping herself from making sure everyone in the fucking building knows your name.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she’s chanting, when your fingers get busy again, pressing in deep, curling just right. And then, “baby, baby, baby,” when you start to pump into her, really get into it, sucking down on her cunt and letting her ride out her pleasure on your chin.

It somehow gets even messier.

“Can’t,” interspersed with, “fuck”, and topped off with a row of accusations, “why do you do this—how can you—” and ended with the whines of “don’t—don’t—please don’t you dare—”

But then—you stop.

Chaewon makes her agonising protest heard. Eyes snapping to yours, absolutely murderous. Simply, “Why?”

Because you enjoying watching her squirm.

Because you love to torture her.

Because you haven’t got what you want yet.

It’s so easy for you—break the hold her legs have on you, keep her stuck to your desk with a hand on her diaphragm. You stand up, watch her whine, see how her abs flex. Helpless when you take hold of her hips and flip her tiny frame over until she’s face down on a stack of papers.

You could throw her over your shoulder and parade her around your office and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Probably thank you afterwards.

But instead you just make her wait. Hold still, pussy leaking all over your desk. Ass pointing up in the air.

Perfect, round, prepared.

Designed by some divine engineering to be caressed, squeezed, worshipped. To be spanked. You palm one cheek, seeing how the flesh bounces back with a jiggle, before letting it go with a smack. The sound rings out, sharp, stinging.

Instantly recalling memories of the last time you left it a much darker shade of pink. You’re inclined to do it again.

For now though, you just bend down. Give it a gentle kiss.

Chaewon does her best to turn back, glaring. Like she doesn’t get off on the size difference.

She can’t find the words, so you give them to her, “You know what I want.”

Blushing, flustered, frantic. “You want me to beg.”

You nod. Wait patiently. Lips to her ass again.

Her eyes close, she inhales deep. Huffs through her nose. You spy the way her back curves and goes taut. Her hands clenching into fists.

Give her time. She’s a pro at this game too. Knows exactly how to play it. Chaewon’s voice comes out clear, no longer a mess of half-formed cries, or barely-there whimpers, but something sharp and precise:

“I need you to fuck me. Now. Please, please, fuck me hard. I don’t care if we get caught. Just. My cunt, my ass—any hole you want, I can’t—I can’t take it anymore. I need your cock—I really, really need your fucking cock to stretch me out. Right now. I'm begging. Just like you wanted. Let me fucking cum.”

And then, to extend the torment just a little longer, “Haven’t I made you cum enough?”

“It doesn’t count unless I cum on your cock. Unless you fill me all the way up. Use me, own this ass. Make me walk outside with your cum inside me, dripping down my thighs, leaving a trail of you everywhere I go.”

“Such a needy little slut, aren’t you?” You grin, raising goosebumps with your words, Chaewon shuddering under the ghost of your lips. Knowing there’s nothing she wouldn’t say, nothing she wouldn’t do just to have you use her again.

She gives up. “Don’t call me that unless you’re going to treat me like one.”

Yeah, God himself couldn’t strike the grin off your face. “Well, if you’re going to ask me like that.”

“Anything to get you to finally stop teasing me, please. I don’t think I can handle it, just, just—”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Chaewon,” you say, and then you lick her, from her cunt to her ass with one long drag of your tongue.

Chaewon gasps. Cums again.

It’s just the thought of it that wrecks her. The thought of your cock pushing into that puckered hole, the thought of your fingers gripping into her hips and your thumbs pressing in bruises.

And you can see Chaewon’s shoulders bunch up, her ass tilting and pointing higher up towards you. The realisation of what’s to come setting in—you’re going to take Chaewon’s ass once again, make good on a promise you brokered when you first bought her that silver toy and pushed it into the tightest little hole she had.

You spit on her asshole. The saliva glistens against her skin.

Chaewon’s whispering, talking to you, herself. Just doing what she can to brace through it all without completely falling apart again. “Fuck, I can’t believe it. Can’t believe you’re going to do this again. That I’m going to let you.”

Your tongue returns, sloppily tracing the crevice between her cheeks, sliding up and down. It teases this moan out of her, loud and mangled and guttural, but still so melodic to your ears. Makes her cunt throb against your chin, gush even more.

Yeah, you can feel it in her thighs, flexing and pushing back, urging her ass further onto your tongue. Not that you need the encouragement. Because you’re loving it, feasting on her taste, her flavour. Her scent. Inhaling it in, all of her, all of that peach-shaped perfection.

You’re going to lose your mind.

So, you spread her open. Sure, the butt plug has done its work—done its best—loosening her up, but she’s still so maddeningly tight that you know it’s going to get dangerous, going to be such a fucking squeeze.

Your tongue dips low to scoop up all that sweet, sweet juice that’s been building up. Eagerly licking up her cum, spreading the mess across her ass cheeks, adding your own brushes to the masterpiece.

And it is, all of it, your magnum opus.

Her cheeks parting and glistening underneath the warm office lights.

Her hole clenching, and relaxing. A wink because it knows what you’re going to do to it.

You push your tongue in that tiny pucker, just for a second, and it fucks Chaewon up good.

One final lick, one final perfect groan from her lips.

“Please.”

Stand up, cock in hand, line it up with that incredible, dark little hole.

Bend over, get close, and slowly, “I’m going to pound this hot fucking ass. Ruin it. Own it.”

Chaewon’s panting, nodding with each word. It’s all she can do. Hardly in any state to protest or argue or do anything but beg for you to do the one thing that’ll make her feel whole again.

You add that extra bit of torment, “And when I cum, when I fill your ass. You’re going to thank me. Thank me for using you as my own personal cumdump. Understand?”

“Yes,” Chaewon breathes, barely, and there it is: “I’ll do anything you want, just, please—”

Oh, the fucking grind when you push your hips forward, and the endless groan it rips from Chaewon’s throat.

“Fucking hell,” you’re cursing, barely inside, but still.

You push, inch by inch, feeling that rigid ring of muscle open itself up to you. Feeling like it’ll never end, this burning, fucking hot sensation; that has her melting around you, like she was always meant to be.

And it’s your name on her tongue, cursed and chanted and praised as you get deeper and deeper, until the words just dissolve into mindless mewls and whimpers and—“Fuck—so fucking deep.”

She’s just so hot underneath you, stretched impossibly wide around your girth, holding you tight and burning you up. And when you’re finally in; when you’re buried completely in Chaewon’s ass, and your legs are shaking and her eyes are wide and starting to well up, she whispers. Hushed, reverent—

“So perfect.”

You can’t come up with anything better than that.

Nothing in this world is better than your cock impaled in her ass, her pussy gushing onto your desk, and your hands just gripping so nicely around her hips.

God, just the way she fits. Made for this. Made for you.

You press your lips to her back, like licking salt before downing a shot. A last show of kindness for her to carry with her through the coming storm, through all your grand plans and designs to properly wreck her perfect, petite body.

Chaewon knows the score, “You’re just going to do whatever you want to me now, aren’t you?”

“Exactly like you want,” you answer, and draw your hips back, torturously slow, almost slipping out entirely.

Giving Chaewon’s ass a moment’s relief, letting her have a beat to pant, to inhale hot air, to remember what it’s like to not be so completely full of you.

Her shoulders heave, her spine curves upwards, and this is what you’ve been waiting for.

Chaewon, the idol—your princess. All doe-eyes and runny make-up and fucked up little sighs. No one was ever supposed to see her like this. See her looking anything less than magazine-cover perfect, anything less than dolled up and posed in designer dresses and outfits so nicely for a music video, or an award show, or a stage.

No one should ever see the lines in her picturesque face all flushed and twisted in agony. Her perfect bob in shambles. Her eyes wide, pupils blown, in tears. Her mouth loose and open and hot. Her ass bright fucking red.

No one but you.

You snap your hips back in. As hard as you can.

And—“Fuck!”

Too sudden. Too hard, too fast. Yet not nearly enough.

One stroke after another. Slipping in and out, easier and easier as Chaewon bends to your tempo, the pace you’re setting. Slow, steady, firm strokes that add on top of each other, and Chaewon keeps getting louder and louder until it’s now not just a problem, it’s going to be a fucking scandal.

The celebrity, fucked like some common whore by an executive on a power-trip. So easy for anyone to overhear, anyone to realise what’s going on behind the glass walls and the dark curtains.

Fuck, you’re not even sure if you remembered to even lock the door.

But the thought alone, someone walking in, witnessing the terrible and beautiful and fucking obscene way you’re claiming her—it’s the purest high. Making her take it. Treating her like a possession. Like she loves to be. Seeing her body shake, her face scrunch, her eyes sobbing at just the effort to keep silent.

It’s no use.

She’s so loud.

So, so loud.

Chaewon pushes herself off the desk, posts two hands flat to brace herself. Lifting herself up to give a better angle, to get you in deeper, letting you just chase that sweet, sweet sound of your cock slapping into her ass.

It’s fantasy, filth, every repressed wet-dream come to life. This pain that twists into pleasure and rocks her body, pounding her into your desk. Knocking over your monitor, sending your keyboard clattering to the floor. Chaewon’s nails fuck up the wood, leaving white scrapes on the varnish.

“I hate how—how good you feel. Fuck, I hate it—hate how much I need it—fuck.”

You grunt, slam your hips into her, make your cock disappear into her. “Stop lying.”

“I’m not—”

“It’s just you and me here, Chae,” even though you’re not entirely sure that’s the case, “Be honest with yourself for once.”

“Fuck—fine!” Chaewon’s on the verge of collapse, still cum-drunk, brain all cock-addled and filled with incoherent thoughts that are all distinctly related to how good your cock feels when it’s stretching her ass to its limits. “I love it, okay? I love being used. Love how much of a whore you make me. Love being treated just like this.“

"That’s all you had to say.”

You move.

Pull back, roll your hips, dragging your cock out of her tightness. Then pushing forward, plunging right back in, making her feel every inch. Forcing a whine out of her throat.

Steady, patient fucking.

The kind she loves to hate.

“Wait—please—why are you going so slow, it’s—”

Another slow draw, another hard fuck.

“Edging me like this is so fucking rude, I can’t believe you’d—”

Cutting her off with another deep thrust. Dragging. Deliberate. Faster.

“Such an asshole, doing this to me, can’t believe I’m letting you—”

Harder still. Building. Picking up speed.

“Fuck me harder. Faster. Please, I promise—I promise—”

Each stroke, each thrust, each grind, making her beg with every breath. But leaving her too helpless to do anything about it.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you. Like I already have been. Like I always am for you. Aren’t I always such a good girl for you?“

And it’s starting to have an effect on you too, all this holding back, this enduring; this burning sensation inside you is reaching critical mass and it only makes sense to get it the fuck out of your system and into Chaewon’s ass while she just slurs—

"Please, fuck me, please, I don’t know how much more of this I can take—”

But she still takes it, anything you throw at her. Until you’re fucking her ass so hard that everything coming out of her mouth just becomes white noise. One long, garbled plea, a never-ending moan that sounds something like:

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me. This cock is gonna make me cum so much. Fucking me so good, it’s—”

You’re relentless.

Turning up the heat, giving it to her exactly how she’s begged. Fast. Hammering into her ass, harder, meaner.

Long, harsh thrusts that break her in two every time.

And you’re really putting her lungs to work, testing their capacity. Making her go high-pitched until she’s jumping octaves and showing no signs of coming back down.

Getting out of control, and it’s after one harsh curse directed right at your cock that your hand shoots for her mouth; slapping your palm over her lips and making her choke down the sound.

But the moans don’t stop, just vibrate against your skin, like you’ve given her license to let herself go. Immediately making all the prior obscene declarations of slutdom and whoring seem tame in comparison.

And it’s borderline impressive, the creativity with which she spurns all manners of filth and profanity, everything screamed into your hand, barely muffled. Not stopping, not slowing down at all, until her teeth are sinking into your palm with only her spit to soothe the pain.

It’s only fair that you have words for her too.

“Can’t even control yourself, Chae. Such a nasty cockslut. So fucking tight,” you growl, and it’s getting harder to hold on by the minute, your own vision starting to swim. “Unbelievable. So tight. So pretty. Just taking my cock like this. My little whore. Tell me, who’s going to want you after this?”

It’s your words that make Chaewon preen. Makes her ass spasm around your cock, her pussy melt. And she’s fighting, fighting for air, fighting to stay together, fighting to stay on her feet.

But she’s slipping.

“Mine.” You reach out, wrap your hand around her chest. It’s her tits, swinging underneath her, bouncing with every solid thrust, every rough push into her ass. It’s fucked that it’s taken you this long to get your hands back on them, dig into the lovely flesh, pinch and tug and fuck her up even more.

Holding her tiny frame against you, in your arms, an anchor for your worst desires.

Feeling how small she is. Feeling everything about her. The softness of her breasts, the insane tension in her stomach, the warmth of her thighs. Feeling the wetness of her cunt, the intense heat of her ass. You thought she was fragile once. Now you know better.

Now you know how ridiculous it is that not only does someone like her exist, but that she’s also so willing to let you fuck her like this.

Willing to let you split her apart with every stroke and even then she’s just so, so desperate for more. Like it’s the best feeling, the only feeling she’ll ever need again.

“God,” because it hurts, “Yes,” because it still feels so fucking good, and, “Keep going, please, fuck, keep going,” even though you don’t need any urging at all.

She’s drooling down your wrist, tears are streaking out the corners of her eyes—she’s broken, overwhelmed, overstimulated. Loving it entirely and there’s no way she’ll be able to get out of here in one piece.

Someone—everyone will know. It’ll play out exactly like she said it would, like you knew it would when you called her over.

Your office will never be the same.

“Can you hear that?” You taunt in her ear, all low and gravelly.

Chaewon’s eyes fly open, gaze hazy. Confused. There’s nothing but the sound of your hips slapping against her cheeks, your cock fucking filthy noises out of her ass.

You’re so happy to explain it to her. “Can’t hear anything, right? Nothing outside these walls. Do you wanna know why?”

A tiny little sigh escapes her when you peel your fingers off her lips, satisfied that she just might be able to hold back her screams for a minute. Drag your hand down, lower, glide it over her skin, pick up the sweat along the way, and end up at her cunt. A finger pressing down onto her clit. Rolling it.

“It’s because they’re listening.”

The cry that’s torn from her throat, louder, she’s going to wear out her vocal cords at this rate, ruin that angelic singing voice, but fuck it’s the most satisfying sound.

You lean into it, toy with her tits, trace your finger around her cunt. Slide your tongue along her throat and kiss into that sweet spot under her ear.

“They’re all wondering why you’re screaming so much. Why you’re so desperate to keep it down. What’s got you so fucking crazy?”

Chaewon’s eyes are wild, she’s torn, but she’s so fucked out of coherence that her mouth and her tongue have lost all ability to do anything but plead, agree, repeat your name.

“Actually, they probably already know. Now they just want to hear what you sound like when you really cum hard. What it’s like to be used. To be fucked by me.”

Your fingers are dipping lower, pushing into her cunt, instantly drenching them in her wetness. And she’s biting down on her cheek so hard, adding onto the litany of bruises and marks you’ve already left on her. It’s all getting to be too much—for you, for her—her whole body tightening around you, cunt spasming around your digits, ass choking your cock and—

“Tell them, Chaewon. Let them hear. Tell them what it’s like to have my cock in your ass.”

Chaewon tries her best. “It feels so—”

“Louder.”

Barely can string a proper sentence together, can’t find the oxygen for it, “Feels so good.”

You’re not helping at all, not giving her a chance of a respite. Fucking the wind out of her, leaving her completely out of breath, a complete catastrophe of need and want and tiny, desperate sounds. But you insist, again, “Louder.”

“I—I—I can’t—I can’t—”

Her wrists give way, she falls into the desk. You’re quick to grab a fistful of hair, snatch it in your fingers before she can collapse face-first into the wood. Wrenching her head back, holding her up so you can keep pounding into her. “Try harder.”

“Please,” she cries, but it’s only making your strokes harsher, more punishing. Everything she needs. Setting every part of her on fire. The pace, the pressure, the force. Leaving her so flushed, and she knows you’re not going to stop until you get what you want, so—"Your gorgeous fucking cock is tearing me in two.”

“More.”

“It’s so fucking good, opening my ass—stretching me out—fucking me until I can’t even think straight. I don’t—I don’t know—I don’t think I can take it—Jesus fucking Christ—it’s too much.”

“You’re so good for me, Chaewon, you’re being such a good girl,” you tell her, cooing into her neck. Convincing her of your own brand of love, whispering praises that she just soaks in, basking in every word—“No one could take me like this. No other ass could ever compare. You’re just too good. I could fuck you like this forever. I don’t care who sees. Who watches. I want everyone to know how perfect your ass is for me.”

“Yes,” Chaewon breathes, like she’s testing out what little remains of her voice. Makes a decision. Thows it all away, uses every last bit of strength to shout out, “Fuck it—everyone should know how much I love your cock in me. Fuck—how much I crave it—”

And it’s starting to hit you out of nowhere—this mind-numbing sensation that’s rattling through your bones. Fire in your veins, fireworks setting off down your spine. And you’re sliding into her ass, again and again, can’t stop, just going, every second bringing you closer to the end, and Chaewon deserves nothing more than a hand tightening around her throat and a hard fucking slap on her cheeks so—

“Everyone should know how hard you’re making me fucking cum!”

Her ass suffocates your cock.

Takes you forward with her, forcing you to fall into her and squash her against the desk. Pulling you in the deepest you’ve been yet, just completely impaled into her thoroughly-fucked ass, until you’re spilling into the depths of her.

“God, fuck, I can feel it—”

And Chaewon’s shaking beneath you too. Trapped under your weight; her body would be shivering, cumming until she’s tumbled off the furniture and onto the carpet, but there’s nowhere to go with you keeping her in place. Using her ass to milk out every last drop from your cock, making her feel it right in her guts, shooting inside her and filling her tight hole right to the brim.

Fuck.

It’s all coming out of her too.

Down her thighs, mixing with the wetness gushing out of her cunt, sliding down her legs. It’s all sweat, cum, juices, these running rivulets that rush all the way down to her feet, pooling on the floor.

No time to think about the mess your making, no time to think about what happens after. Just trying to survive it. The intense visual of Chaewon cumming helplessly, endlessly beneath you. The dozens of tiny shifts in her body; the crane of her neck, the tightening of her jaw, the tight little squeezes of her ass around your cock, and the curl in her swollen lips—

That smile.

It’s everything: absolute debauchery, pornographic, and it makes you want to rip your heart right out of your chest and give it to her.

You hold her through it, kiss her down off that ledge, whisper quiet things from a tender place deep inside you that you had no idea still existed.

And yeah, maybe it’s a little concerning how sweet Chaewon gets right as you’ve broken her. Kissing into your wrist, nuzzling into your forearm with her nose. A whisper, barely heard as she goes weak beneath you, submitting completely when she sighs against your skin, “You really fuck me up good, you know?”

She keeps herself wrapped around you, no immediate ideas of ever leaving, ever existing in a world where your cock isn’t completely seated in her ass, where your cum isn’t painting the walls of her insides. Just so wrecked by all of it. By all of you.

So you keep kissing into her back, soothe her down. Kiss up her spine, kiss that spot between her shoulder blades, kiss her more, kiss her everywhere, until your mouth is a mess and her skin is a canvas of your lips.

Keep your hands busy, too busy. At her sides, and lower still, massaging into the tender bruises across her ass cheeks, as if you weren’t the one that put them there in the first place. But now it’s your job to fix them. To nurse them away. Make it right again.

Chaewon makes this slow, languid movement, a shift underneath you that has your softening cock slip out of her, has her rolling onto her back. Looks up at you; this beautiful, drowsy haze pulled over her teary eyes, and it all should be so played out by now, should be something your used to, but really, Chaewon’s truly stunning.

Gorgeous, all the time, but when she’s like this—used, ruined, destroyed, in a pool of her own cum—she’s on a different plane of existence.

She smirks, because she can read your mind, and sighs, “I’m going to miss this when you get fired.”

You’re cracking up, wiping the sweat across your brow with the back of your hand. “And what have I done for that to happen?”

“Um, try, railing the talent in the middle of the company office, maybe?”

“I think you did a pretty good job at keeping it down.”

Chaewon enunciates slowly. Like she's talking to a child. “I literally screamed at the top of my lungs that you were making me cum. The security guard on the ground floor heard it.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, but you’re already lifting her leg before you can think better of it. Lips meeting her ankle, her calf, once again well on your way to making Chaewon’s pretty little head let go of every thought that isn’t what you’re doing to her at this very moment. “Probably.”

And it’s when you get to her knee, and lower, further down, where she’s let herself get so wet and shiny and messy, and now that she’s quivering again, there’s no going back.

Your teeth graze along the inside of her thigh, your lips drag achingly slow, stopping short of where she needs you to be. “But no one on this floor did.”

Chaewon blinks. Stares at you, adorably annoyed. Happily frustrated that you’re back to torturing her.

“Told everyone to go home after you arrived. So, we’re in the clear. No one here but us.”

A myriad of emotions flash across Chaewon’s painfully pretty features. Relief, amusement, disbelief. Awe.

But also—disappointment.

Because here’s the real rub, the truth of the matter. The thing she’d only admit to in some darkened room; or scream into your hand, or a pillow, or, in this case, a stack of overdue paperwork.

Chaewon lives for this shit, as much as you do.

The thrill, the rush of almost getting caught, the addiction to having an audience.

Yeah, it’d probably make her cum buckets if someone was to witness the exact moment you actually break her.

And you can already see the gears turning in her head, thinking of the next time you’ll push her past her boundaries, raise the stakes, maybe forget to evacuate a floor before nailing her to the closest hard surface.

Find out just how much of a good girl she really is for you.

But for now she just smiles up at you. Lets the thought churn inside her. Simmering, then boiling, and then getting exponentially hotter, wetter; moans tumbling out of her lips until all that’s left is for her to accept that—

“Oh, you’re the worst.”

You quite readily accept your punishment for your crimes on her body; the individual counts against her cunt and her lips and her ass. Serve out your term between her legs, starting it off with a lick that passes the entirety of her pussy.

Bringing the two of you right back to the beginning, where her hands are threading into your hair and you’re putting your mouth to good use and making her go from hushed to panting to whining, and again she’s close to shattering into a million tiny pieces because fuck.

She really, really does make it so easy.

Easy to keep going, even when you're mentally and physically spent; even when she's lost all fight in her, can't even summon the strength to beg a little more, to plead for you to make it hurt better.

Easy to fuck—to make love to her.

To fall for her.

You don’t think you could ever stop, you don’t think she’d ever let you. No, even when the moment shifts, and you’re switching up gears, and you have her spread out over the comfort of your couch instead of your rigid office desk, she still is, and will always be, yours to play with.

And it's Chaewon’s eyes going soft, her arms wrapping around your neck, and she’s holding you tight, holding you like a lifeline.

Her voice is simply gone, no more declarations, but she’s already said all she needs to. Let you in on this quiet need inside her. This gentle craving. For something like this.

For someone like you.

You kiss her.

It’s different.

Take your time—you’re too drained to rush.

Just sink back into Chaewon, fall into her light kisses against your cheek, whispers of what you swear sound like three dangerous words, but you’re too tired to make them out.

Just embrace her, embrace the girl that could have anything, be anything she wants to be, but for some reason has chosen to be yours. Let your fingers run over her ribs, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, and lower.

Lose yourself in her, in this unholy silence that’s gradually being cut into by her gasps and her moans, and—

You pause.

Shush Chaewon.

Hear the low hum of a vacuum right outside your door.

“Ah. Shit. Cleaners.”

A scant thought crosses your mind.

"You think they heard?"

Chaewon smiles. Shrugs.

Somehow finds one last sliver of energy to adjust herself beneath you.

"Maybe," she's whispering. Reaching out to touch you. Rolling her hips. Making you throb. "Probably."

And now she's grinning, and you can feel it in your chest. That thrill that never really went away, the chase you can't quite escape from.

It's against your better judgment, but you're already surfacing these ideas, the things you could do to her; how creative you could really get in your office—just hoisting her up on her feet and pressing her against the walls and fucking her into the glass until she's leaving an imprint.

Chaewon reads it on your face.

Knows that all she has to do is ask:

"Has that ever stopped you before?"

#kpop smut #chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #male reader

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i-love-ptv · 6 months ago

Text

Playing Dangerous ཐི♡̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ཋྀ

Pairing: Police Officer!Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend!Reader

You get pulled over by the police, but the officer just so happens to be your boyfriend. Will he let you off with just a warning? Part.2!

Wc: 1,822

SMUT (nothing crazy, just a steaming hot blowjob ;)) + winks of fluff

Hi guys!!! Uhm sorry I didn’t get a whole bunch out during October, I had lots of shit going on I fear…So take this as an apology lol. Also I have a (late) halloween fic coming out soon so stay tuned ;)

Feedback is always appreciated! xx

You hear the sirens chirp, and you take a glance at the rear view mirror, that’s when you see the police car riding your tail. You sigh due to the fact that you’re the only car on this road, and begin to pull over.

Were you going over the speed limit? No, you couldn’t possibly be doing so, you always remained cautious on the road.

Your hands rest idly on the steering wheel as you listen to the sound of boots getting closer. Your window is down, making the chilled night air kiss your skin.

The air is filled with cologne that rings familiar; you see his arms resting inside your car window first, the tattoo of your name staring right back at you.

You’re met with none other than your boyfriend, Rafe. He ducks down so his bright crystal-colored eyes are leveled with yours.

“Awfully late to be driving around here, huh Peach?” Rafe teases you with a smirk.

“I was just finishing my errands, Ray. And you scared me! I thought I was actually in trouble!” You try to keep the scowl on your face, but the more you stare at him, the more your face cracks into a smile.

Rafe quirks a brow at you after he takes a few seconds to assess you. “Who said you’re not in trouble? You’re driving without your glasses on, baby.”

You roll your eyes, “You couldn’t have possibly known I wasn’t wearing my glasses when you were behind me,” you replied.

“And besides, you act like I can’t see without them at all.”

Rafe tuts at your comment, “Thought it's already been established that you gotta wear ‘em when you drive, you not following orders now?” His smirk grows all the wider as he takes in your smaller frame.

You bite your lip and gaze at him, “Oh, well everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I don’t think a good girl would break the rules, hm?” Rafe’s face is inching towards yours, slowly leaning more and more into your car.

You pout, feigning innocence, “I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure.” Your lips part, going to leave a steamy kiss to the officer’s rosy, yet somewhat chapped lips, but he pulls away slightly, leaving you gaping with glossy eyes.

“I dunno…Think you should step out for a second, sweetheart. Y’know, just to follow protocol.” He whispers hotly against your ear, making your panties dampen.

You quickly exit your car, and as soon as you close the door, Rafe’s pressing you into it.

“I think you deserve a ticket, Peaches, d’ya think so?” His expression darkens whilst he fondles your love-handles, your floral sundress from earlier being bunched up around your hips. You shake your head ‘no’, letting out a soft “uh-uh”.

Rafe’s eyes soften, similar to how you look; he mocks you, exaggerating his pout. “Well, what’re we gonna do with you then, huh precious?”

Your tongue darts out for his lips, your mouth encloses his, and there’s nothing sweet about this kiss. Your tongues battle heatedly, Rafe allows you to think that you’ve won, until he presses his prominent bulge against your stomach, making you gasp in surprise and delight.

Spit dribbles down your chin, his hand cradles your head, leaving no room for you to pull away. You moan and whimper against him, your nimble fingers glide down his chiseled body, and rest against his belt buckle.

Then, Rafe remembers that the two of you are still in fact, on the side of the road. He breaks the kiss, making you chase after him; the string of saliva breaking whilst you whimper for more.

“Mmm, I know baby. Tell you what, how about I have you atone in a different way, would you like that pretty?” His veiny hands raise, resting lightly against your shoulders as his thumbs rub against your throat.

You eagerly nod your head up and down, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on your man wearing his delicious uniform.

Rafe drags you to the passenger seat then dashes to the driver's seat, and he mentally, he thanks every god out there that he forgot to turn both his body-cam, and his dash-cam back on.

He leans the seat back and beckons you over with his index and middle finger. “C’mon Peaches, y’know what to do.” You reach over and begin to unbuckle his pants.

Your body digs somewhat uncomfortably into the center console, but you can’t seem to care— not when Rafe’s cock twitches in his boxers. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight.

You take him out, making him hiss and screw his eyes shut for a moment.

Your manicured finger brushes against his pink tip, rubbing circles as you leave soft, feathery kisses to the base of his dick.

Rafe grunts in frustration, growing impatient with your constant teasing. He grabs your hair roughly, angling your face just above his dick.

“Make sure you breathe through your nose f’me, Peach.”

Your head is pushed down; your lips wrap perfectly around his shaft as it goes deeper into your mouth. Your nose is pressed against Rafe’s hairy thigh, his cock kissing the back of your throat beautifully. You gag slightly at his length, making your boyfriend chuckle.

He pulls you off, then sends you right back down just as quick. You hollow your cheeks as your head continues to bob. Spit gathers around your mouth due to Rafe’s force. He uses his left hand to hold your hair, while his right rubs the back of your neck.

It’s something so soft, so sweet, while in such a dirty, sinful situation.

The wet sounds of your gagging and slurping is all Rafe can focus on. —That and how sexy you look with the blue and red lights reflecting off of your face. It’s a sight he wishes to preserve in his mind for the rest of eternity.

He fully removes you from his dick, allowing you to catch your breath. “Mhm, you got it baby,” he says through his panting.

He guides your head back down; you don’t even get a chance to wrap your hand around what doesn’t fit because he’s thrusting up into your mouth.

Tears pool into your eyes, but Rafe can hardly tell due to them nearly rolling to the back of your head.

You whimper around him, your angelic sounds and the squelching which permeated the car only encourage him.

“You’re my good girl though, right Peaches? You’re gonna take it real good f’me?” Rafe moans at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his cock.

You squeal around him, trying to shake your head ‘yes’ at him but Rafe continues to roll his hips up.

The car shifts when another comes speeding down the road, but he can’t seem to give a shit when the woman of his dreams is nearly sucking him off the bone.

Rafe’s head is tilted towards the roof, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his spit. His chest heaves, his grip on the back of your neck tightening as he moans hopelessly.

“H-hah, that mouth was made f’me precious,” he grunts through his gritted teeth.

“You. Were. Made. For. Me.” His words are emphasized by his thrusts.

He switches hands, allowing his left to snatch up your hand, so his right can hold onto the open window.

His bucking grows erratic, his rhythm being lost, alongside his mind as he grows closer and closer to his climax. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, another sign of him almost finishing.

Rafe can no longer contain his moans, he’s borderline wailing at this point, his body is lifting off the seat, but you maintain your pace.

“Y-yes baby! That’s it! Make me cum, honey. Make me fucking cum.” He sounds almost pained, which fuels your burning desire.

Rafe’s been reduced to a whimpering mess now, despite his acts of dominance earlier, but neither of you mind. His moans go higher in pitch, then suddenly, you feel his warm load flood your mouth.

The salty taste makes you moan, making Rafe shiver, and his thighs twitch.

You release him with a ‘pop’, and you leave a sweet, yet seductive kiss to the head of his flushed cock.

His load mixed with your hot saliva drips down your chin, you take your index finger and scoop it into your mouth while holding Rafe’s deepend gaze.

You lock your lips with his, and he gasps at your attempt to literally, take his breath away.

He breaks away with a low grumble, and you giggle. You pull down the driver side’s visor and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is sticking up every which way, your mascara from earlier in the day now dries against your tear stained cheeks, and your lips are kiss bitten and puckered.

Rafe tucks himself away before you climb into his lap, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“I think I atoned for my rule breaking quite well, don’t you, Officer Cameron?” You grin mischievously, pressing your nose against his.

Rafe only hums in response, he smiles at your antics and kisses you softly.

“I uh..I got a few things to take care of back at the station,” he mumbled.

“How about you go home and wait for me there, baby.”

You pout at this, while he exits the car with you still wrapped around him.

He sets you down once you reply, “Will you come home to me?” His expression softens.

He pecks all around your face, making it harder for you to keep up your sullen act.

“Of course, pretty girl,” Rafe whispers.

You cross your arms as he continues, “I’ll wrap up so quickly, babe. Then I can…” He trails off, before ducking down to your ear.

“Return the favor.” He nibbles at your ear, and you press your legs together.

“Mmm, okay. But hurry back..” You peer at him, fixing his wild hair strands. He kisses your wrist.

“Of course,” and with that, he firmly kisses your cheek before allowing you to step back into your car.

After you settle in—after he finished adjusting your seat back, you place your hands on the wheel and spare him a last glance.

“Can you do me a favor, baby?” He asks with a grin, but you can tell it’s far from sweet.

You hum, both in curiosity and excitement.

“Think you can hold onto these for me?” He places the item into your hand, and leans back to head to his car, but not without yet another kiss to your lips.

You lick your lips as you watch him walk back to his police cruiser.

You know he won’t leave until you do, so you eventually pull off.

The set of shining, silver handcuffs resting next to you, and an ever growing heat between your legs.

#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#SoundCloud #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #obx x reader #obx x you #outer banks imagine

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cadelinhadaromanoff · 15 days ago

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𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

Summary: You spent the day with Ana, her laughter filling the spaces where your nerves tried to creep in. Between playful moments and soft conversations, you kept thinking about the step you were ready to take — one that would change all your lives forever. For once, the future didn’t feel heavy or distant. It felt like home, and you were finally ready to claim it.

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Tony Stark x Daughter!reader.

Word count: 7432

Warnings: huge amount of fluffiness, Tony being a good grampa, Natasha being slightly insecure. Reader and ana being the best duo ever.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Author's notes: Hey everyone, I just want to apologize for taking so long to post. I’ve been going through a tough time in my personal life, but I’m back now. Also, I’m really sorry I couldn’t fit everything I wanted into one chapter—sometimes the story just takes its own direction! But please, feel free to send in any asks! I absolutely love talking with you all.

By the way, how do you think Reader’s contact is saved in Natasha’s phone? I’d love to hear your thoughts on that!

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　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 🍼 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

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There were many moments in her life Natasha could label as memorable.

Some for their pain. Some for their absurdity. Some for the sheer adrenaline of surviving something she shouldn’t have survived.

But there weren’t many she could call peaceful.

And none, until now, that she could call happy.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so at peace, so quietly and utterly content, as she did now — with you stretched lazily beside her, your hand absently tracing slow circles against her hip, your breathing slow and steady, filling the room with a comfort she never thought she’d have.

Your presence was soothing in a way nothing else had ever been.

Not a mission completed. Not a victory celebrated.

Just you.

The breeze after a long storm. The fresh air after years underground.

She let her eyes close again, allowing herself a rare indulgence: believing that maybe, this time, happiness wasn’t something temporary. Maybe this time, it was here to stay.

And it was all because of you.

A sudden clatter of a fork against a plate snapped her gently from her thoughts.

Natasha blinked, finding herself at the kitchen table, sunlight filtering through the windows, the scent of something simple and warm hanging in the air. You were across from her, lazily spinning your fork through your pasta, while Ana sat between the two of you, her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to stab a cherry tomato without it rolling away.

“You know,” you said, a teasing glint in your eyes as you watched Ana’s struggle, “I think she’s developing your stubbornness.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, resting her chin on her hand. “She’s smarter than that.”

Ana, seemingly proving the point, gave up on the fork altogether and grabbed the tomato with her fingers, stuffing it triumphantly into her mouth.

You snorted, pointing at Ana with your fork. “Pure Romanoff energy right there.”

Natasha gave a half-smile, letting herself soak in the easy atmosphere — but there was a subtle flicker in her chest, that lingering voice that always whispered caution. She’s not yours, it reminded her. Not completely. But she shoved it away, focusing instead on how natural this felt, how it was getting harder and harder to imagine a day without you here.

“You’re a bad influence,” Natasha muttered, nudging Ana’s foot under the table playfully.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you grinned, twirling more pasta onto your fork before adding casually, “Besides, she needed a partner in crime.”

Ana babbled a few incoherent words, her hands waving enthusiastically, and both of you laughed — the kind of laugh that made Natasha’s shoulders finally, truly relax.

She leaned back slightly, watching the two of you with something dangerously close to awe.

Without even trying, you had stitched yourself into the fabric of her life.

And for once… she wasn’t terrified of it.

“You look proud of yourself,” she said dryly, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I am,” you said without shame. “Successfully corrupted two generations in one go.”

Natasha shook her head, a soft, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you said easily, meeting her gaze with a lazy warmth that made her chest tighten. “But I’m your idiot.”

Natasha felt the words hit harder than they should have, a strange ache blooming low in her ribs. She dropped her gaze to Ana, who was now sleepily pushing peas around her plate, her small body swaying with exhaustion.

She reached out, smoothing down Ana’s wild hair, using the small, automatic gesture to steady herself.

There was no need to rush anything, no need to put a name to what they had just yet. But deep down, Natasha couldn’t shake the feeling that it was consuming her—this burning, aching longing. It wasn’t just a desire; it was a yearning to belong, to be loved unconditionally. She knew, without a doubt, that you loved her, loved both of them. But that wasn’t enough. She craved more. She needed to claim it, to declare to the world, to the universe, that you were hers—and that Ana was hers too. That they were a part of you, and she needed that certainty, that assurance. She needed to hear it, to feel it, to be sure.

For now, she was trying to convince herself that it was enough to just sit here, to eat badly cooked pasta at a wobbly kitchen table, to listen to you make stupid jokes, and to feel — maybe for the first time in her entire life — safe. But, undeniably she needed more…

Natasha watched as Ana’s tiny hands clumsily tried to collect peas into a pile, her red hair catching the soft light filtering into the kitchen. The image — her daughter, your easy smile, the quiet bubble of home — was enough to make Natasha’s chest ache, in that fragile way she was still learning not to fear.

You leaned back in your chair, your fork abandoned, tapping your fingers lightly against the table with a mock-considering expression.

She caught the glint in your eyes a second before you spoke, and immediately narrowed hers in suspicion.

“So…” you dragged the word out, clearly up to no good. “May I take your daughter to spend the day with me?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That sounds suspicious as hell.”

You pressed a hand dramatically over your heart. “Come on, give me some credit.”

She didn’t even blink, still looking at you like she was waiting for a confession.

“I need her expert opinions,” you went on, leaning closer across the table as if you were sharing a world-class secret. “She’s a pro. Totally slays. I need her stamp of approval for some… very important choices.”

Ana, oblivious to the conspiracy brewing over her head, yawned noisily and dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter.

Natasha folded her arms, pretending to be stern even as the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. “And what, exactly, is my almost 2 year daughter a pro at?”

You shrugged innocently. “Taste. Style. World domination. You know, the basics.”

She rolled her eyes, but it was useless — the warmth in her chest was already spreading, making her feel lighter, safer than she had any right to be. She wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly what you were doing. You weren’t asking just to spend time with Ana — you were giving her another quiet reassurance. You weren’t going anywhere. You weren’t running. You were settling deeper into their life, into her life, stitch by stubborn, beautiful stitch.

Still, Natasha wasn’t about to make it easy for you.

“You break her, you bought her,” she said dryly, sipping from her mug, pretending like the flutter in her chest didn’t almost make her hand shake.

You gave her a wide, cheeky grin, one that made her feel far younger and far older all at once.

“Deal,” you said without hesitation. “But just for the record — if anything, she’s more likely to break me.”

Natasha huffed, hiding her smile behind her cup. Ana babbled something unintelligible and smacked her little hand onto your forearm, demanding attention, and you turned immediately to her with exaggerated seriousness, as if she had just issued a royal decree.

“See?” you said, throwing Natasha a look of mock helplessness. “Already got me wrapped around her finger.”

Natasha shook her head, but this time she didn’t even try to hide the smile that stretched across her lips.

Maybe happiness was here to stay after all. Maybe it was in the small, stupid moments — the peas scattered on the plate, the teasing between two people who never thought they could have this, the warmth of a child’s touch grounding them both.

And maybe, just maybe, she deserved it.

Even if the thought still scared her more than any battlefield ever could. The last thing Natasha saw was you cleaning Ana, carefully changing her into a fresh outfit with that proud smile of yours that always tugged at her heart. As you gently adjusted her clothes, Ana giggled, her small hands reaching up to touch your face, causing your smile to widen even more. You lifted Ana into your arms with ease, holding her gently but firmly against your hip, your eyes meeting Natasha’s as you gave her a playful wink.

Ana, sensing the attention, gave a small, clumsy wave toward her mom, her tiny fingers reaching out in a wobbly, enthusiastic greeting. Natasha’s heart swelled at the sight, and she couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. You, her daughter, and the life you two were building together—Natasha never knew how much she needed this until she had it.

You gave her a knowing nod, and as if sensing her thoughts, you turned toward the door, carrying Ana with a relaxed confidence. You wanted her to feel secure. She deserved to, and she trusted you

.As the elevator doors closed behind you, you shifted Ana in your arms, making sure she was comfortable as you hummed softly to her. She was still too young to fully understand the words, but she appreciated the sound of your voice, her little eyes following you as you spoke.

“Alright, kiddo, time for a little adventure,” you whispered, your lips brushing the top of her head. “You know how important your mom is to me, right?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. It was so easy to fall into this routine, to fall into this role as her protector, her companion.

Ana made a small sound in response—probably just babbling—but you took it as a form of agreement.

“Good,” you continued with a grin. “Because without her, well, I wouldn’t have anyone to bug. And speaking of… today, we’re going to see Grandpa Tony in his lab. He’s probably still complaining about something, but you know him… always making things ten times more complicated than they need to be.”

You shifted Ana slightly in your arms as the elevator dinged, reaching your floor. The doors slid open, and you stepped out into the hallway of the tower, the familiar hum of the building’s energy around you.

“Now,” you added playfully, “you’re gonna love my dad, as your grandfather. but don’t be fooled—he’s just as bad as me when it comes to getting distracted by work. He’ll probably try to show you his latest project and then talk my ear off about it for hours. Just wait. I swear, he could talk about a paperclip for a good hour if you let him.”

Ana let out a little squeal, clearly amused by your antics. Her little hands reached up and patted your face, her way of joining in on the fun. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her, her enthusiasm so pure and infectious.

As you made your way toward the lab, you could already hear the familiar sound of Tony’s voice from the other side of the door. “I swear, if one more person asks me how to fix the stupid cooling system—”

The door to the lab opened before you could even knock. Tony stood in the doorway, his signature smirk already in place. His eyes flicked from you to Ana in your arms, and a knowing grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, look who’s all grown up,” Tony teased, his gaze lingering on Ana. “Can’t believe you got a kid at your hip. That’s a new one, kid. I expected you to be way more of a chaos machine by now. But no, you went and got all soft. What’s next? You two gonna move in here and start taking naps on my couch?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling at his usual sarcastic tone. “You know I’m just here for the tech, Dad. I’m not trying to turn your lab into a daycare center, don’t worry.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. “Uh-huh. Sure, sure. You don’t need to lie to me. I saw you with Ana out there. You’re whipped. I’ve never seen you so soft in all my life. Who knew Romanoff's kid would be the one to soften you up?”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you said, holding Ana a little higher in your arms. “But let’s not act like you weren’t the same way when you had me. Don’t try to act all tough now. We both know you can’t resist a little snuggle session with the kid.”

Tony dramatically clutched his chest. “Oh, please. I don’t need to hear about my ‘soft side’ from you. I’m just here to be a good, responsible parent. I’m not whipped like someone I know.” He flashed you an exaggerated wink, clearly enjoying the teasing.

“Right,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”

Tony smirked and gestured toward a table full of gadgets and blueprints. “Come on in, kiddo. Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into today. I’m sure you’ve got a ton of questions about the latest project, don’t you?”

“Not exactly…”

You said as you stepped into the lab, still holding Ana, who was now distracted by the flashing lights and screens around her. She seemed genuinely fascinated by everything, which just made Tony all the more excited.

“Look at her. Already smarter than both of us combined,” Tony muttered, as he turned toward a workbench and started rummaging through some tools. “And here I thought she’d be the one to keep you in check. Looks like you’re gonna need more than a few lessons to keep up with her.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the playful jab. “At least I’m not the one who’s got an army of robots and a super suit to do all the heavy lifting for me,” you retorted with a grin, giving Tony a sideways glance. “At least I’m doing this the old-fashioned way.”

Tony gave you a mock gasp. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re not secretly jealous of the Iron Man suit. Come on, admit it. You want one. It’s practically calling your name.”

“Maybe one day,” you said, as you gently sat Ana down on a nearby cushioned chair. “But today is all about her, and her mama. Right, Ana?”

Ana cooed, and you gave her a smile, her face lighting up at the attention. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she looked up at you, her little hands reaching out toward Tony’s lab table in curiosity. It was moments like these that made you feel truly alive—connected, grounded, and exactly where you needed to be.

“Alright, kiddo, what do you think?” you asked her, motioning to the lab.

Tony raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned over the table. “I think you’ve got your hands full with her, kid. I never thought I’d see the day you’d become the responsible one. But you did good. She’s gonna keep you on your toes.”

You shot him a playful look, watching as Ana grabbed a small tool from the table with the curiosity of a true Stark.

“Yeah, well,” you said with a soft chuckle, “looks like I’m already a little whipped. But that’s okay, I’m used to it.”

Tony laughed, his voice ringing out with amusement. “Sure, sure. Just don’t let anyone hear that you’re ‘whipped.’ Trust me, that’ll get around faster than you think.”

The lab was quieter than usual, a rare moment of stillness. The usual hum of gadgets and screens seemed almost distant as you sat across from your father, Ana perched on your lap, completely absorbed by the shiny new toy Tony had given her. You’d been bouncing this thought around in your head for a while now, and you knew there was no one better to talk to about it than your dad. He might be a little insufferable at times, but he always had a knack for giving you the advice you needed—whether you liked it or not.

“Dad,” you began, looking down at Ana for a moment before meeting Tony’s gaze, “I’ve been thinking about something. I’m… I’m thinking about proposing to Natasha. Asking her to be my fiancée.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but keeping his cool. “Wait, you’re thinking of proposing? To Natasha? Are you sure you’re not jumping the gun here?”

You exhaled a sharp breath, knowing that the question was coming but still unprepared for it. “Look, we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve been a family in everything but title for months now. We’re already doing the ‘partners in crime’ thing. We’re already there, but… we’ve never really labeled it, you know? We’ve never put a name on it. And I don’t know, I think it’s time for that. It feels right.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, eyeing you intently, his fingers steepled in thought. “I see. So, you want to make it official. Alright. But why the hesitation? Why bring it up now?”

You shifted Ana in your arms, your fingers absently playing with her hair as you chose your words carefully. “I’m scared of scaring her off. I mean, Natasha’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t really do the whole… emotional thing unless she’s sure. I’m worried that if I ask her, she’ll feel like I’m pushing her into something she’s not ready for. Even though I feel like she’s craving this reassurance too. She’s always been the one to hold back, to keep things close to her chest.”

Tony raised a hand, stopping you before you could go further. “Okay, hold up. First of all, I get it. Natasha’s not someone who opens up easily. She’s not a fan of the whole fairy tale thing. But here’s what you need to understand: if she’s with you, if she’s sticking around, it’s because she trusts you. She feels safe with you. And you don’t need to have some big, grand gesture to prove that.”

You shook your head, frustration creeping in. “It’s not just about proving it, though. I want to show her that I’m all in. That this isn’t just some… fleeting thing. I want to give her the reassurance she needs. She’s always been the protector, always been the one holding everything together. But I know she needs someone to hold her too. I just—I want to be that for her.”

Tony’s face softened just a fraction, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something more genuine. “I get it, kid. I really do. And listen, I’m not going to tell you how to do it, because that’s your thing. But you’ve gotta realize something: Natasha is probably more scared of losing you than you are of scaring her off. She’s been through hell, and she’s not just going to open up and let anyone in that easily. But she’s with you. You’ve got her trust.”

You let the weight of his words settle for a moment, feeling the truth in them. “You really think so?” you asked quietly, glancing down at Ana. She looked up at you with those big, innocent eyes, as if she could sense the shift in your thoughts.

Tony gave a small nod. “I know so. And the truth is, she’s probably more ready for this than you realize. Just don’t overthink it. Ask her, be honest, and take it from there. If she’s with you now, I think she’ll be with you for the long haul.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief washing over you. “Thanks, Dad. I think I needed to hear that.”

Tony stood up, stretching as he looked over at you. “No problem, kid. Just don’t screw it up.” He shot you a wink, and for the first time in a while, there was no sarcasm in his voice—just the simple truth. “And don’t keep me in the dark when you do it. I want the details. All the details.”

You laughed softly. “I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for the advice. And for not completely ruining my confidence.”

Tony smirked, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the conversation far too much. “You’re welcome, kid. Now, go figure out how to propose without completely scaring her off. And hey, you better nail this because I’m already mentally preparing to be a grandpa.” He raised an eyebrow dramatically, as if the idea was more shocking to him than anyone else.

You blinked, not entirely sure if you heard him right. “A what?”

“Grandfather,” Tony grinned, his fingers tapping the table in mock contemplation. “That’s what you’re about to make me, you know. A grandfather. Romanoff’s kid. And here I thought I’d just be stuck dealing with you and your ridiculous tech experiments for the rest of my life, but no. Now I’m about to be the cool grandpa—can you even imagine that?”

Ana, who had been happily playing with one of Tony’s old gadgets on the table, made a noise that could only be described as half-babble, half-squeal. Tony, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned down and waved a finger in front of her face.

“Who’s the coolest grandpa, huh?” Tony cooed at Ana, his voice way too exaggerated for someone who had just turned into a grandparent in theory. “Is it me? You think I’m the coolest grandpa in the world? Or are you just excited about playing with my toys?”

Ana giggled, clearly entertained by the shiny object, and babbled something incoherent. Tony grinned, playing it up. “Ah, yeah, that’s what I thought. She’s totally on my side. Smart kid.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Tony was completely right. Ana, in her usual way, was already totally on his side. “You’re a mess,” you muttered, but couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of the whole scene. Tony was making being a grandfather sound like a full-on comedy routine, and it was honestly kind of working.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. You have no idea how great being a grandpa is,” Tony said, tapping his fingers against his chin. “I never thought I’d get here, but I’ve gotta say, Romanoff’s kid? I didn’t even see her as the ‘mom’ type, much less the ‘gonna-make-me-a-grandfather’ type. It’s like finding out your favorite action hero is secretly into knitting. Unexpected, but here we are.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you’re so okay with it. Natasha’s kid, huh? That’s… something.”

Tony chuckled, bouncing Ana on his knee as she babbled again, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Look, you’re both ridiculously lucky that she’s already a part of my life. You’ll be thankful when you’re bringing her over here for weekend visits, and I’m the one spoiling her rotten with whatever the hell I want.”

Ana babbled again, and this time Tony leaned in, making her giggle. “What’s that, kid? You think I’m awesome, right? I think you’re awesome too,” he cooed, making his best goofy face.

You watched, amused, as Tony continued to play up the role of doting grandparent. He picked up another gadget, handing it to Ana, making her laugh even harder. “You know, I’ve always been good with gadgets, but this? This is a whole new level. This kid’s gonna be a tech genius in no time, and I’m going to take all the credit. You know, because I’m basically the greatest uncle/grandpa of all time.”

“I’m not calling you Grandpa,” you said, laughing. “You’ll have to come up with a cooler nickname. And she is learning with me aka her moma, because i am better than you”

Tony smirked. “Oh, only in your dreams. I’m sure she’ll come up with something better. It’s gonna be great—she’ll probably end up calling me something way cooler than you ever would.” He gave you a side-eye and grinned. “You’re totally whipped. I’m already practicing my grandpa dance moves. Get ready.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Tony had already fully embraced the idea of being a grandfather, even if he was just teasing about it. But the way he played with Ana, making her laugh, teasing you—there was something so natural and carefree about it all. You were glad she had Tony in her life. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to have him around more often… even if he was totally insufferable about it.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Tony,” you said with a smirk. “You’re the best grandpa ever. But seriously, let’s focus. Do you think Natasha’s going to freak out when I do this?”

Tony waved a hand, his tone turning more serious. “Eh, you’ll figure it out. But remember, don’t make her run for the hills. We don’t need two of you doing the ‘are we really doing this’ dance, alright?”

“I’ll try,” you said, chuckling. “But you better not mess this up for me, old man.”

“Hey, I’m not the one getting whipped here,” Tony said with a wink, before turning back to Ana. “Alright, kid, give me a high five. I’m basically the coolest grandpa ever. You know it.”

Ana slapped her tiny hand against his with a giggle. Tony grinned, watching her as if she were the best thing in the world. Maybe, just maybe, he was looking forward to this whole ‘grandfather’ thing more than he’d let on

You gave Tony a final look as you prepared to leave, Ana still perched on your hip, her tiny hands clutching at your clothes. “Well, I’ve got a full day ahead of me,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Searching for the perfect engagement ring for Natasha and I. This is going to be a fun adventure.”

Tony’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Ah, yes, the youngest sugar mommy in the world,” he quipped with a wink. “Gonna be a real great look for you. You know, when you’re still taking care of Natasha’s ring shopping. That’s how I imagine you’ll end up—spoiling her with diamonds and tech gadgets while I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing. “Someone has to keep the romance alive, Tony. You should follow your daughter’s example, and Maybe do something nice for Pepper. She’s probably starting to forget you’re a romantic type.”

Tony blinked in mock horror, raising his eyebrows. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. You want me to—what? Romance Pepper?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d have to start doing all kinds of work to undo all the ‘I’m too cool for romance’ stuff I’ve been saying for years. That’s a lot of work, kid.”

You smirked as you bounced Ana on your hip, “Well, you better start practicing, old man. Otherwise, Pepper might just find herself a new sugar daddy. Someone who doesn’t constantly crack jokes about being too cool for love.”

Tony shook his head, grinning like a mischievous child. “You know, you might be onto something there. But for now, I’m just going to sit here and laugh at you, while you actually go ring shopping. You, the ‘sugar mommy.’” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “You’re making me proud.”

You shook your head, heading for the door with Ana still clinging to you. “Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, Tony. You’ll see. I’m going to be the best fiancé ever, and I’m going to make it extra special for Natasha. I’ll make sure to rub it in your face when it works out.”

“Sure you will. Go on, then. Make sure that ring you’re buying is as shiny as your future,” Tony called after you, chuckling.

Ana gave a tiny, muffled giggle as she waved goodbye, and you couldn’t help but smile. At least you had a plan—and you weren’t about to let it slip away.

You carefully strapped Ana into the car seat, her tiny hands gripping at your jacket as you made sure she was comfortable. It had become second nature to you, taking care of her like this. As much as Natasha had a knack for being a fierce, independent woman, there was something about the way she let go when it came to you, trusting you with the things she didn’t always want to manage. Like letting you take control of the car, even though she had her own set of wheels parked in the garage. She simply didn’t care. It was as if she had declared herself a “passenger princess,” and you couldn’t help but adore that about her.

With Ana in the backseat, you started the engine, the sound of it a hum of quiet power beneath you. Your hand rested on the steering wheel, a comforting reminder of how much things had changed. You had come so far from when you barely knew what you were doing with your life. Now, you had a little girl to take care of something you never wanted, but now you can't imagine your life without, and a beautiful woman who trusted you with more than you ever thought you’d be capable of.

As you drove through the city, your mind wandered to the task ahead. Cartier. The place where you were going to pick out something so special, something that would show Natasha just how much you appreciated her. It was going to be perfect, or at least that was the plan. You weren’t nervous about the ring—it was more about what it meant. You weren’t just buying a piece of jewelry; you were solidifying your future. With Natasha. And Ana.

You looked in the rearview mirror, catching Ana’s wide eyes staring up at you, her face an open book of curiosity, though she could barely form words. “We’re going to get a special gift for Mommy, kiddo,” you said with a soft smile. “Something shiny, something beautiful. Your mom deserves it all, you know?”

She didn’t respond—of course, she didn’t. Ana wasn’t quite at the stage where she could articulate much yet, but you loved the way she looked at you, as if she understood every word you said, even though she was still finding her voice. Her small, round eyes followed your every move, and you could feel her focus on you, an innocence that was both heartwarming and, in its own way, a little overwhelming.

The drive to the shopping center was short. You parked and grabbed the diaper bag from the backseat, slinging it over your shoulder as you lifted Ana out of her seat, holding her close. She squirmed a little, reaching for the necklace you had on. You chuckled, adjusting her in your arms. She loves to play with your necklace, since she meet you in that meeting…

Ana gave a soft, gurgling sound that was almost like a laugh, and you found yourself smiling at how sweet and innocent she was, unaware of how much she meant to you, how much she meant to Natasha. You took her hand gently and led her inside the store.

Cartier was as elegant and pristine as always, with rows of sparkling diamonds and gold gleaming under the soft lighting. You had been here a few times before, picking out gifts for friends whenever you wanted to make them feel special, but today it felt different. It wasn’t just a matter of picking out something pretty. Today, you were making a statement.

You walked through the aisles, pointing to a few options as you spoke to Ana, even though you knew she wasn’t quite old enough to understand. “We’re going to find something perfect,” you murmured, trying to steady your nerves. “Something worthy of your mom. She deserves everything, sweetheart. You’ll see. When we give it to her, it’ll be like all our love wrapped up in a little shiny box.”

Ana babbled something, and you paused, letting out a small laugh. “I know, right? I’m a sucker for her too. But don’t worry, Ana. We’ll make sure to make her feel special. She's been taking care of us, so it’s our turn.”

The sales associate came over and led you to a display of rings, their beauty unmatched. You glanced at Ana as you moved, still holding her close to you, your thoughts drifting to Natasha. She had been through so much in her life, and yet she had managed to create this small, perfect world for the three of you. You could already see it—Natasha’s reaction when she saw the ring, the way her eyes would light up with surprise, a flicker of exasperation at the price, and maybe even a little bit of disbelief that you’d pulled it off.

You smiled at the thought, realizing how much you’d been anticipating this moment. The ring was only one part of it. The bigger picture was the commitment. You were giving her something she hadn’t had in a long time: stability. You were telling Natasha that you were in this for the long haul. And you would make sure to remind her of that every day.

You looked down at Ana again, who was now quietly observing the sparkling jewelry in the display case. “We’ll get something nice for your mom, don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll love whatever we choose.”

You held her a little tighter as the sales associate continued to show you options. It was easy to get lost in the idea of the future, of everything you wanted to build. With Natasha, with Ana. Your heart swelled with love, and it felt right. All of it.

You step closer to the glass display, Ana still cradled in your arms, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as her little head tilts to the side, eyes wide with curiosity. You can feel her soft breath against your skin, the gentle weight of her little body grounding you in the moment. The rings before you are dazzling, but none of them seem quite right—not yet.

The attendant who had greeted you steps back for a moment, giving you space, but there’s a soft, almost disappointed air lingering between you. You ignore it, your focus shifting back to the delicate pieces laid out in front of you. But then, something catches your eye—a glimmer of two sapphires set beside a diamond in one of the smaller boxes to the side.

You shift Ana slightly, her tiny body nestled against your shoulder as she lets out a soft, inquisitive sound, her eyes following yours. “Look at that, sweetheart,” you whisper to her, smiling as you tap the glass gently. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

One of the sales associates, noticing your attention, steps closer, her voice soft and professional but with a hint of genuine interest now. “Ah, you’ve spotted one of our more unique pieces. That’s a ring with two sapphires, one on each side of the diamond.” She glances at Ana, then at you, her smile warm. “It’s a beautiful choice—sapphires are often associated with loyalty and wisdom, making them an excellent pairing with a diamond. Very meaningful.”

You nod, turning the box slightly to get a better look at the intricate design. The sapphires seem to almost glow beside the diamond, their deep blue hue contrasting beautifully against the sparkling clarity of the stone. You can almost picture Natasha wearing it, the ring reflecting the light just as she would reflect the love and trust between you.

“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. “Something that feels meaningful… something that’ll speak to us, not just look pretty.”

Ana reaches up, her tiny hand brushing against the glass, her fingers outstretched in fascination, the soft giggles escaping her as she tries to touch the rings. Her eyes are focused entirely on the sapphire-colored stones, and her voice rises in a playful babble, “Mama!” she calls, her small voice so pure and filled with love.

You laugh softly, lifting her slightly so her cheek rests against yours. “You like this one, huh?” you murmur, the sound of her giggle filling the space around you, light and free. “You think Mommy would love it?”

The associate watches this exchange, a soft smile curving her lips as she takes in the sight of mother and child, a warmth in her expression that wasn’t there before. “It’s a beautiful ring,” she agrees, her tone softening. “Definitely something special.”

You nod, still looking at the ring. It feels right—like something that would belong to Natasha. “I think this one’s the one,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else, but the words hold the weight of a promise.

Ana reaches for you again, her little fingers grabbing at your collar as she pulls herself closer, her voice a high-pitched, innocent call. “Mama!” she repeats, her excitement contagious. You smile, your heart swelling as you bring her in for a closer hug, feeling the warmth of her tiny body pressed against yours.

“I think she’d love it too, sweetheart,” you murmur, looking down at your daughter’s sparkling eyes. “This will be the perfect ring for Mommy.”

The attendant, sensing the moment, steps back to give you space, her smile genuine now, her previous distance replaced with a soft admiration. You glance up, giving a small nod as you make your decision, knowing in your heart that this ring is more than just a symbol of love. It’s a reflection of the beautiful life you’re about to continue building with Natasha—and the little one you’re holding close to your heart.

You finished selecting the grand diamond ring for Natasha, but then you found yourself drawn to another, for you this time. With a much simpler piece. It wasn’t large or flashy, but it had something about it that caught your eye—a small band with delicate peridots, the gemstones sparkling softly under the lights. As you traced the band with your finger, you couldn’t help but think of the eyes that would one day glance down at it. Natasha’s eyes. Ana’s eyes. The rich green of both of them, so full of life and love. The peridots reminded you of that warmth, of the connection you had with them, something so deeply rooted and irreplaceable.

You knew this ring wasn’t about wealth or grandeur; it was about something far more personal. It was about you, Natasha, and Ana. Your family. It was a symbol, simple but meaningful, something you could wear to remind yourself of everything you had, and everything you hoped for.

The attendant, who had been helping you, noticed the change in your demeanor and smiled. “This one, too?” she asked gently, noticing how your eyes lingered on the ring. “It’s a beautiful choice, very understated. Your fiancé is a lucky woman to have someone with such fine taste.”

You looked up at her, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m the lucky one,” you replied quietly, your voice thick with emotion. “She’s giving me a family.”

You shifted Ana in your arms, her little face breaking into a wide grin as she giggled in your arms. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, too, the sound of her joy filling your heart. “You’re my lucky charm, kiddo,” you whispered, gently bouncing her, making her laugh even harder.

The attendant watched the moment with a knowing smile, and you felt a swell of gratitude for your little family. They might not be the most traditional, or the most perfect in the eyes of the world, but in that moment, with Ana’s laughter in your arms and Natasha waiting for you at home, you felt like the luckiest person in the world.

As you made your way through the store, your gaze kept drifting back to the jewelry display cases, and this time, something caught your eye that made your heart swell. It was a delicate bracelet, small and simple but undeniably beautiful. It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a tiny gold band with little charms, each one representing something small, something significant. You could already imagine Ana wearing it, her chubby little wrists looking even more precious with the bracelet adorning them.

You didn’t need a reason. You didn’t need to justify it to anyone. It was something you could do, and you were damn well going to do it. Ana might not understand it now, but one day, she would.

You turned to the attendant again, nodding towards the bracelet. “And that one too,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips. “Just because I can.”

The attendant smiled knowingly, clearly seeing the love you had for both Natasha and Ana. “Such a thoughtful gift,” she remarked as she carefully wrapped it up. “She’ll love it when she’s older.”

You couldn’t help but imagine Ana with it on, her little hands reaching out to hold Natasha’s as they walked together. You felt the excitement of giving her something so precious, something that would stay with her, a small piece of you, for years to come.

You glanced down at the bracelet in the attendant’s hands and then back to Ana in your arms, her giggles still filling the air. “Yeah,” you murmured under your breath, smiling softly, “she’s going to love it.”

As you made your way through the final steps of paying for everything, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you momentarily away from the dazzling jewelry collection laid out in front of you. You took it out, seeing Natasha’s name flashing across the screen. You couldn’t help but smile, the thought of her—your woman—always managing to sneak her way into your thoughts.

The message was short, but the familiar warmth of her tone was undeniable. She knew you well enough by now, and this little exchange was just another part of the dance between the two of you.

| My woman ❤️‍🩹 > You are taking too long, should I worry?

You typed a quick response, already anticipating her playful tone in your mind. You loved how she could always make you feel at ease, even through a simple message.

| Me > Just here spoiling my favorite—and only liked—baby. Maybe a little bit of myself too. Don't worry, I got something for you too :)

You quickly hit send before slipping the phone back into your pocket, taking a deep breath and grinning to yourself. Natasha’s little text brought that familiar warmth to your chest. It was as if she were right there with you, even though you were standing in a Cartier store with your daughter on your hip, the weight of the situation suddenly feeling a bit more real.

You looked over at Ana, who was still babbling happily in your arms, oblivious to the significance of what was happening around her. But one day, she would understand. You smiled again, feeling that quiet sense of certainty deep in your heart.

Your phone buzzed again just as you finished collecting everything from the counter.

| My woman ❤️‍🩹 > Just making sure. But seriously, hurry back, or I might come check on you myself, and you know how dangerous that could be 😉

The playful challenge in her text made you chuckle softly, already imagining the smirk on her face. You could feel the pull to get back to her, to settle into that space of comfort and love that had become so effortless between you. You sent a quick reply before turning to head out the door.

| Me: I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry darling <3

You pulled out your phone again, holding Ana in your hip while rolling though your phone this time with a mischievous grin as you typed a message to Clint. You knew you’d need some help pulling this off without Natasha catching on.

| Me: I’m about to propose to your bestie, can you do me a solid? Like, distract her for the next few hours, maybe until midnight?

You hit send, already picturing Clint’s reaction. Within seconds, the reply came.

| Male Katniss 🏹 > Damn, finally. You got it, kid. Don’t worry, I’ll make her suffer with me watching the Rockies. That should keep her occupied.

You smirked, feeling a little lighter with Clint’s usual sarcastic response. You could practically hear the eye-roll in his voice. But it was exactly what you needed. You sent back a quick “Thanks, Clint. I owe you one” before slipping the phone back into your pocket and heading to meet Natasha, excitement bubbling up in your chest, Ana was looking at you as if she knew what is about to happen tonight.a

You were getting one step closer to making it all real.

#ladies and gentlemen natasha romanoff is very gay #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel mcu #mothernatasha romanoff #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff #baby!fic #keep telling yourself that #lesbian #gay love #mother!reader #mother!natasha #lgbtq #gay #scarlett johansson #tony stark x daughter!reader

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lazysoulwriter · 1 month ago

Text

not dating - rafe cameron // hc.

based on 'not your girlfriend'

He leaves you little notes everywhere. On your car window, in your bag, under your coffee cup. Always signed, “Yours (but not officially), Rafe.”

You once told him your favorite flowers as a joke. He remembered. Two weeks later, he showed up with a chaotic, oversized bouquet and said, “Had to beat the florist up for the last of these. Worth it.”

Rafe never knocks. He just shows up outside your place like some overly confident raccoon. Usually holding iced coffee like it’s peace offering. “Figured you’d forgive me if I brought caffeine.” “What are you even apologizing for?” “I dunno. Preemptive guilt.”

He pretends to hate romcoms. But he sat through How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days with you and said “that guy is literally me” no less than four times.

Every time he thinks you’re mad at him, he texts you: – “Are we in a fight?” – “Is this about the gun thing again?” – “Be honest, on a scale of 1 to blocking me, where are we right now?”

He swears he's not clingy but miraculously ends up everywhere you go. “Oh, you’re here too?” “Rafe, this is my dentist’s office.”

One time, you kissed him without thinking. Like muscle memory. Mid-argument. Mid-sentence. He didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week.

He says stuff like: – “Just one date. One. You can ghost me after.” – “Do you believe in fate? Because I keep running into you like it’s planned.” – “You keep saying no, but you kiss me like you mean yes.”

He sends you selfies from therapy with captions like: “She said I’m emotionally volatile. I said yeah but in a hot way.” And then, “Doing this for you. Hope you’re proud. Also I miss your face.”

Once, he showed up bleeding. Nothing dramatic. Just a cut on his cheek. “Got into a fight with a guy who said you weren’t that hot.” “Rafe.” “He was wrong. I stand by my actions.”

Sometimes you forget why you keep saying no. Like when he pulls you into his chest and kisses your forehead like you’re something fragile. Or when he says your name like it’s a secret. Or when he looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

He always says, “I love you,” like a dare. And you always roll your eyes. And kiss him back anyway.

You once told him you’d consider dating him if he could go one whole week without doing anything illegal. He made it to day four. "That parking ticket doesn’t count!" “You parked in a church.”

He wears your hair tie on his wrist. Says it's his good luck charm. “You know, for self-control.” “Rafe, that doesn’t even make sense.” “Doesn’t have to. It’s yours.”

Every time you call him by his full name — “Rafe Cameron” — he gets this stupid smirk like he’s about to get kissed or arrested. Maybe both.

He’s chaos. He’s a menace. He drives you insane. But when he pulls you in, hands on your hips, forehead pressed to yours… You don’t pull away. You never do.

---

requests are open! / check out my masterlist.

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hypernova-writes · 3 months ago

Note

PLEADR HEAR ME OUT MY TF2 MAJESTY:

The mercs giving or receiving hickeys.

s..specifically medic and sniper 😍 and and also scout… MEOWWWW

thank u sm for feeding me with such amazing content

You're Welcome!! I'm currently cooking up my next long fic right now (more yandere unhinged Medic coming btw-) I also want to apologize for the lack of writing recently! Stuffs been pretty crazy in my life right now but i'm back! still sick but im back! (Or atleast trying to be—)

Merc's receiving and giving Hickeys: [Medic, Scout, Sniper]

Medic

Receiving: Medic LOVES when you give him hickeys. This man will wear them with PRIDE. Give them on his neck, his chest, his arms, hell he even ended up with one on his cheek once.

He bruises pretty easily, so whenever you end up making out and you start trailing down his chin to his neck...Oh he's a mess! He loves teasing you for this though-

"My little liebling...jou just love marking me up~ Don't worry, no one is going to take me from you."

He's LOUD so you better hope that no one is around that day.

Now when it comes to him leaving them on you?

His favorite spots are your thighs and your breasts. He loves how squishy they are and how easy it is to get you all marked up.

It riles him up so much when you two are about to be intimate and he sees the previous marks that he left on you starting to fade.

"Mhm..looks like I need to leave more, Liebling~. Zhey're fading.."

Scout

ANOTHER ONE WHOS LOUD.

He's also very sensitive, like, he starts whimpering type of sensitive, I headcanon the RED Scout to be a bit tanner than the BLU one, so when you mark him up he'll get all flustered because the others can see it.

"Jeez babe, what are ya a vampire or somethin'?.." He loves it don't stop. Will question you if you suddenly stop.

When the shoe is on the other foot?

He's such a fucking teasing prick.

Leaves them in obvious spots, has left one on your cheek before.

He likes to leave them in clusters, so you'll have several aligning one area of your neck. He likes to nuzzle into your skin afterwards to feel the heat of your skin.

"Tch. Why hide em? Everyone in the damn base knows ya my girl anyway."

Sniper

Will become flustered, turn so red that this man could put the damn shirt he wears to shame.

You leave them alot on his chest around his scars, the area is sensitive to him but he loves to look down and see your little love bites.

Doesn't want you to leave them too high up, not that he's not proud to show em off, he just doesn't wanna deal with the teasing he'll get from the other mercs.

"..try to keep em low love, please?..dont wanna hear those blokes mouths.."

Now when it's time to put them on you?

FERAL. FERAL. FERALLLLL

He bites, and he bites hard, you aren't leaving with a hicky you're leaving with a damn bite mark.

Mostly on your inner thighs and your hips. He loves the plush, bonus if you have a belly? Oh yea he's biting there too.

He likes to bite, then suck and lick on the area to make sure his mark stays, if it doesn't, prepare for him to do it again.

He has drawn blood one before, and you thought it was the hottest thing ever, you told him this and all dominance went out the window as he got a little embarrassed.

"..sorry sheila..got a lil carried away..here..let me kiss it better

Writing Snipers had be clawing at the walls of my enclosure— I'm so down bad for this man.

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em1i2a3 · 29 days ago

Text

Girls Like You (Continuation of My Desire)

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Fem!Reader (Ex-HYDRA)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Violence, Blood, Gore, PTSD, Swearing, Description of Injuries and Harm to Characters, There is a self inflicted injury (by accident), Bucky goes through it again and it is quite a rough one for our dude, Angst, yknow what? The characters are kinda having a bad time for a great portion of this but we got a happy ending? That’s good. WS!Bucky makes an appearance.

Smut Warnings: Some good old fashioned lovemaking, Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’alllllll), Oral Sex (f! Receiving), Praise Kink, Biting, Marking, Choking (if you squint), Restraining (if you squint), Nipple Play, Fingering, Scratching (with intent to mark), Grinding, a little bit of a cum kink? Kind of?

Author’s Note: All I want to say is…Holy Crap. Thank you for the overwhelming response to ‘My Desire’! I wanted to give y’all what you guys were requesting, and I have decided to add a second part to this story! It took a hot minute and I apologize for that (I had a lot of ideas for this and needed to settle on something, and on top of that I wanted to try and do the story some justice), I also took a few liberties here for the story, nothing too major but I am hoping it is okay :) I hope everyone enjoys it, and thank you again <3 :)

Word Count: 24,961 (CERTIFIED YAPPER RIGHT HERE LOL)

PART ONE IS HERE: My Desire

After the third round, your body had given you no choice but to surrender, every muscle ached with the sweet burn of overuse, every nerve ending tingled like it hadn’t gotten the memo that it was time to come down. Somehow, though, you’d summoned the strength to peel yourself from the warmth of the bed to tug on a pair of underwear, followed by one of Bucky’s shirts, it was soft, oversized, and infused with his sweet scent; pine, sage, and lavender, the perfect mixture that almost brought you to intoxication. It was an attempt, however feeble, to reclaim a bit of control over the morning. To ground yourself again after hours spent unraveling at his hands.

The light creeping through the curtains was dim and gold, casting long shadows across the tangled sheets and the bruises that were peppered across your skin, marks from where his mouth had been, where his fingers had gripped, where you’d lost yourselves in each other again and again. You pushed your disheveled hair out of your face, the movement revealing a dark bite mark just below your ear.

Bucky’s eyes tracked the shift in the fabric of your shirt like a predator drawn to the scent of something familiar. He was lying back against the headboard, his hair a tangled mess, his chest flushed and still rising with the aftermath of exertion. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his gaze held the kind of smug amusement that made you want to either roll your eyes or kiss him breathless. Maybe both.

“You’re looking a little too proud of yourself over there” You murmured, climbing onto the bed, your voice lacking the typical bite it usually had, crawling on your hands and knees towards the pillow beside him. You collapsed onto your side, your gaze looking out the window, needing a second to just breathe. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, even though the sheets were still warm from where his body had been just moments ago, writhing beneath you.

A soft chuckle vibrated through the mattress, low and intimate.

You didn’t have to look to know he was moving. You felt the bed dip, his weight shifting closer. Then, his vibranium arm, cool and smooth, slipped beneath the hem of your borrowed shirt. His fingers found your hip first, brushing gently over the tender, bruised skin there. Then he slid further, wrapping his arm all the way around you, pulling you against his chest like you belonged there. Which, at this point, he had staked his claim enough that you were practically branded.

A quiet huff escaped you, more amused than annoyed. His vibranium hand fanned out across your stomach, the coolness of it displaying a startling contrast to the fire he’d left in his wake. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along your skin; squares, triangles, swirls, anything his mind could think of before circling your navel like he wasn’t aware of what it was doing to you.

But of course he was. It was obvious.

“Bucky…If you keep touching me like that I’m going to break your fingers.” You warned against the pillow, the butterflies in your stomach twisting, already responding to his touch, just like it had the past three rounds. His nose brushed against your neck, his warm breath sticking to your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your flesh.

”I think we both know you like my fingers far too much for you to actually break ‘em huh?” He responded, punctuating the statement by placing a gentle, open mouthed kiss to your bruised neck, a smile draped on his lips, your jaw tightening at the wetness he left with his tongue.

“Wasn’t three rounds enough?” You asked, now turning onto your back so you could look at him. He shook his head.

”I did tell you in the shower that I would want you like this every day didn’t I?” You let out a small laugh, your eyes scanning over the damage you had done to him last night, how the bite marks and bruises were already fading away, slowly but surely, disappointed that his work would be on you for longer, knowing it took you just a little longer to heal.

”Bucky…We’ve been having sex for hours at this point, I’m pretty sure you’ve thrown me into enough positions that the Kama Sutra would be embarrassed…You’re just overindulging now.” He grinned at your comment, his cheeks heating up thinking about what had transpired during the night, his fingers trailing over the waistband of your underwear.

”If that’s overindulgence I will proudly continue to partake.” He responded. You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already leaning down, catching your lips in a kiss that was a complete departure from the hunger of the hours before. This one was slow. Reverent. The kind of kiss that made your chest ache and your heart thrum painfully in your ribs. You whimpered softly into his mouth, your hands instinctively threading through the thick mess of his hair as you kissed him back, already melting into the weight of him pressing down on you. Bucky shifted slowly, the mattress dipping with his movement, slotting himself between your thighs like he belonged there. Your legs parted easily to accommodate him, the soreness barely a blip beneath the heat curling up in your belly all over again. He cushioned his hips against yours, his body settling over you like a heavy, protective blanket, in an attempt to mold himself to the shape of you.

When he pulled back from the kiss, his lips hovered a breath from yours, the heated air from him filling your lungs.

”Can I take this as a sign we can go for round four?” You let out a small laugh of disbelief, tilting your head back against the pillows to get a better look at him. You could see the way his cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, pupils blown wide with the hunger you had seen the entire night.

”Do you have an unlimited stamina cheat code from the serum or something? How are you not the least bit exhausted?” Bucky shrugged, a toothy smile coming up on his mouth.

”Sweetheart…I don’t need a cheat code, I could do this forever.” He whispered, his lips skimming your jaw, lingering for a few seconds, then traveling downward, pausing just above the scattered constellation of purple and red marks he’d left on your neck. His mouth ghosted over them with a feather-light touch, kissing the aftermath of his work, admiring the wreckage he’d caused. You sighed, the sound slipping involuntarily from your lips as his hand slid to your hip, anchoring you beneath him like he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away.

”Of course you could.” You murmured under your breath, feeling him gently tug at the collar of your shirt, the fabric shifting to expose more surface area to him. His mouth latched onto the skin, grazing it with his teeth, your fingers curling into his messy, tangled strands of hair that were still damp at the ends from the shower you shared, and possibly from him sweating.

”You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He teased, his words warm against your skin. You shuddered at the way his breath tickled across your sensitive flesh, his tongue poking out to trace over the bruises he had left hours ago.

“I’m…I’m just saying,” You stuttered, feeling his weight press into you as he adjusted himself, “If you weren’t a super soldier I’d be worried for your heart.” His laugh vibrated through you, continuing to trail down your body, keeping eye contact, reading every expression that came up on your face.

”That’s cute you care about me possibly having a heart attack on top of you.” He joked, reaching for the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to expose your stomach to him, as he peppered kisses along the soft flesh. “While I may be old in theory, my body is still young and it’s always ready to please.” He continued, his eyes watching you closely, seeing your lashes flutter at the sensation of his lips touching your skin, your body arching slightly to chase his movements.

“Always ready to please, huh?” You joked, scratching at his scalp with your nails, his eyes closing at the chill that raced up his spine.

“Mhm.” He responded, his lips moving towards your hip bone, his teeth gently nipping at the muscle, “I take my work very seriously.” You bit your lip, feeling him tug at your waistband to expose more skin to him, a soft moan escaping you, feeling him suck on the little fingerprint marks he had left while you were on top of him just half an hour ago.

”I’ve noticed.” You commented breathlessly. Bucky smirked against your skin, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, pulling ever so slowly, teasing, testing-

RING RING RING.

You both froze in place, the intimacy in the air immediately being sucked out of the room, even though you were still burning from the inside out, longing for him to continue. Bucky let out a frustrated groan, dropping his forehead against your stomach, the reality suddenly setting in for the both of you.

”Nooooo.” Was all he could muster to say, as you reached blindly for the phone with your free hand, hoping it was going to be a quick conversation. You didn’t even look at the caller ID when you answered.

“Yea, hello?” You greeted, sitting up slightly.

”Wow, don’t you sound chipper this morning.” Natasha’s voice echoed over the other end of the line. You closed your eyes, feeling Bucky's hot breath still hitting your stomach, his vibranium hand remaining on your outer thigh, tracing over the three scars that marked your skin, like he was waiting for the conversation to be done so the both of you could get back to what you were doing.

”Nat? What are you doing calling at this time?” You asked, looking down at Bucky, who’s eyebrows raised slightly at the question.

”Well, Maria called me yesterday and asked if I would be willing to fly over there to extract the both of you, she said the sooner the better, so Steve and I decided to come down to get you guys. We just arrived in Vienna.” You felt your stomach plummet to the floor, seeing Bucky’s head shoot up from where he was, his eyes wide with horror, your hand unraveling from his hair.

“They’re here?” He mouthed, watching you nod slowly.

“Oh that’s great…Just landed right?” You asked, your voice rising in pitch slightly.

“Yeah, we are about twenty minutes away from the hotel, depending on how fast Steve drives of course.” You forced a laugh at her comment, trying to sound as natural as possible.

“Oh great, well hopefully Steve’s driving doesn’t get you too angry and he gets you guys here in twenty minutes.” You shot a look at Bucky who was staring at you like you had personally ruined his life.

”Twenty minutes?” He mouthed dramatically again, you nodded, now putting your hand over his lips so you weren’t distracted by him. Bucky said something which muffledb something against your hand, causing you to press your palm against his mouth just a little harder.

“Well, we’ll see you soon then!” You added, trying to cut the call as soon as possible so the both of you could scramble to get ready.

“…Are you alright? You sound a bit odd. You didn’t kill Bucky did you?” She asked, trying to make a joke even though she still sounded suspicious. Bucky bit down on the inside of your palm, just enough to make you flinch, smacking him on the arm, seeing a dumb smirk drawn up on his lips.

”Yeah, I’m alright. No, I didn't kill Bucky. It was a long night, so I’m just exhausted that’s all. Can’t wait to see the both of you though. I’m gonna start getting ready.” You announced, looking at your hand, seeing the little teeth marks in your skin, shooting Bucky a death stare.

”Alright. See you soon.” Natasha said, the suspicion still lacing her voice, reluctantly taking your answers at face-value, as you hung up, throwing the phone onto the entanglement of sheets at the foot of the bed.

“We are fucked.” Bucky announced, flopping onto his back, like a man accepting his fate.

“No Bucky, we are not just fucked…We are going to be crucified for the rest of our lives, we will never live this down.” You explained, rubbing your head as you got up off the bed, fixing your underwear and shirt quickly.

”Crucified is a bit dramatic I think.” Bucky responded, “Also, I doubt that Nat and Steve will really care about our sexual escapade, but we definitely won’t be able to live it down like you said..” You raised your eyebrows at him, dragging your suitcase towards you, digging around for a change of clothes.

”Bucky…I had a blood thirsty grudge against you no less than 48 hours ago give or take…Natasha is going to have a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that we suddenly had sex in under a day or two of being in each other's presence. She will be concerned about the change.” Bucky shrugged.

”So you have to tell her the truth…That’s all.” You huffed at how he said it so simply, like it was going to be easy. You tossed a pair of jeans onto the bed, before rummaging through the suitcase for a sweater, finding the simple high collar zip-up that was going to be fitting for hiding the marks that enveloped the skin of your neck, throwing it on top of the jeans, before turning your back towards him.

”And what exactly is the truth? That I invited you to shower with me? That I had a lapse of judgement all night?” He sighed, watching you peeling off his shirt. His eyes dropped down immediately to the deep, red scratches that ran down the length of your back, scattered all over the place in frantic patterns. He could feel his breath hitch in his chest as you threw his shirt over to him, snapping him out of the moment. Quickly he slipped the top on over his frame, adjusting it over his chest, taking in the warmth that you had given it before getting off the bed to stretch out his sore limbs.

“Hey, let’s not backtrack here and pretend that was just a lapse of judgement,” He murmured, grabbing your sweater from the bed, stepping towards you slowly, watching you find a pair of socks, “You didn’t look like you were regretting it when you had your nails scraping down my back and you were saying-.” You straightened up and spun on your heels so fast that you nearly knocked into him, placing your hand against his sternum to stop him from getting any closer.

”Don’t finish that sentence please…” You said, your cheeks heating up beneath his mischievous glare, he raised his hands in fake surrender.

”Alright…Alright,” He said, stifling a grin, “I’ll spare your dignity for now…But for the record, I think that moment was the highlight of my night.” He added, unfolding the sweater, “Now…Let me help you get this on.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

”I’m pretty sure I can dress myself.” He shook his head.

”Not right now you can’t, c’mon…Arms up, don’t make me wrestle you.” You rolled your eyes at him, unable to fight off the smirk that was coming up on your lips. You obeyed the request, lifting your arms with a dramatic groan.

”You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh absolutely.” He said without missing a beat, slipping the sweater over your head, his knuckles grazing your ribs as he pulled the fabric down slowly, your head popping out from the top of it. With a careful hand he smoothed the material over your body, like he was tucking you in, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Might be my new favourite thing…Dressing you after undressing you…I mean talk about full circle.” He joked, letting his hands linger just a second too long on your waist. You narrowed your eyes at him.

”You’re ridiculous.” You muttered, fighting a grin, watching him reach for the zipper, his gaze lingering on the scar between your chest, the bruises that lingered across it, where he had kissed and sucked with such reverence.

”I might be…” His voice dipping, his eyes raising back to yours, the both of you exchanging heated glances at one another, communicating without words, your eyes softening at the way he looked at you, his hand bringing the cold metal up your chest, the sound of the teeth catching rhythmically in the silence.

“But you’re still letting me help you are you not?” He added, watching the fabric effectively cover all the marks he had made on you. He didn’t step back right away, he stayed in your space, his eyes roaming over yours. His thumb grazed just below your jawline, feeling the warmth radiating from your skin, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. He sighed, like he was giving into all his wants and desires, reaching up with his vibranium hand to cup your cheek, caressing it gently, the coolness providing a relief from the heat that you could barely control at this point. You leaned in, seeing him mirror your actions, taking the opportunity to get the last few touches and kisses in before Steve and Natasha’s arrival.

The kiss was soft, not like the ones from last night which were frantic and breathless. It was slow, intentional, sensual even. You brought your hand up to his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it, to hold him in place. Bucky hummed against your lips, deepening the kiss, tilting his head to fit you better, his nose brushing against yours as he shifted closer.

The intimacy of the moment made you feel dizzy, not because it was heated, but because it was tender, gentle, and all consuming.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered over yours, breathing you in shakily.

”Are you sure we can’t squeeze in another round?” He whispered, his lips brushing against yours, voice low and hopeful like a prayer. You could hear the teasing laced into his words, but the way his thumb traced idle circles along your hip told you he was only half joking.

”You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Bucky pulled back slightly, a pout forming on his lips, acting wounded.

”I’m just saying! We have…” He paused, spinning the both of you around so he could see the alarm clock on the nightstand, “A solid fifteen minutes before Steve and Natasha arrive.” You arched a brow at him, holding onto his shoulders.

”And what do you think you’ll be able to achieve in fifteen minutes, you little sex addict?” Bucky’s smile turned wicked.

“I can think of a lot of things,” He whispered, letting his hands sneak beneath the hem of your sweater, his fingers splaying warmly across your bare skin. His thumbs brushed lazy lines along your waist, and he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just let me prove it to you.” He added, his breath hot against your skin. Your cheeks flushed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked up at him. His pupils had blown wide again, swallowing up most of the blue in his eyes, and the intensity of it made your stomach twist with butterflies all over again.

”How about you hold yourself together for the day, and we can figure something out for tonight huh?” He raised his eyebrows, tracing his vibranium fingers across your back.

”Are you trying to bargain with a man who’s on the brink of starvation?” You gave him a pointed look, sliding your hands down to rest on his chest, gently giving him a little push to widen the space between the both of you.

“Bucky, it’s been forty five minutes…Maybe an hour since we last had sex…I’m very sure you’re not on the brink of starvation.” He gave you a sheepish smile, as his hands dropped to his sides in exaggerated defeat.

“Fine…At least I tried.” You let out a soft laugh, stepping back to grab your jeans from the bed.

”Yeah. Tried and failed.” You teased, as Bucky’s eyes watched you, scanning the curve of your hips as you stepped into your jeans, tugging them up with a practiced hop and wiggle, buttoning them and zippering the zipper, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth, leaning against the wall behind him. You raised your eyebrows at him.

”You done cataloguing my every move?” Bucky tilted his head, an unapologetic look of admiration glossing over his eyes.

”I was just trying to appreciate the art before the exhibit closes.” Your lips twitched slightly, as you grabbed your socks.

“The exhibit is just taking a brief intermission.” You shot back, taking a seat on the bed.

”Good,” He said, dragging his eyes over you once more, “Because I want a private tour later, full access.” You snorted, pulling on one sock, shaking your head with a smile of disbelief tugging at the corners of your mouth.

”My goodness,” you muttered, glancing over at Bucky, “How the hell are you going to pull off pretending you hate me if you’re all mush right now?” He raised an eyebrow at your question.

”I’ve still got some Winter Soldier kicking around in me, and I’ve also got a good poker face…I think I’ll be able to slip into the role very easily.” You let out a small laugh, tugging your second sock on.

”Not when you’re undressing me with your eyes Bucky.” He gave a shrug.

”It’s called multitasking. One of my many talents, right up there with marksmanship, espionage, and making you moan my name.” You grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at him, seeing him catch it without even trying, a small laugh escaping his throat, tossing it to the floor. You could feel the heat inch up your neck, encompassing the skin on your cheeks, burning from his little quips.

“Go open the window over there, we need to air out the room.” You muttered using the heady scent of the room as an excuse to cool yourself down while you reached to grab your black combat boots.

”Yes ma’am,” He smirked, padding over to the window, tugging the sheer curtains aside, unlatching the glass before pushing it open. A cool breeze swept into the room instantly, chasing away the thick scent of sweat and sex that clung to the sheets, blowing his hair back.

“Hopefully that will get rid of the Eau de Bucky.” You teased, pulling on your boots, tying them tight in double knots before standing to your feet and brushing the invisible dust off your jeans. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, one brow raised, his eyes shining with amusement.

”Eau de Bucky…Is an extremely limited edition fragrance, and it leaves a lasting impression, or so I’ve seen.” He commented, stepping away from the window, tousling his hair in an attempt to straighten it out and make it look less messy. You reached into your bag and retrieved your comb, tossing it to him in silence before turning your attention to the bed. In no orderly fashion you fixed the sheets and the duvet, trying to smooth everything down as much as possible to hide the evidence of what the night had brought to the both of you, there was a slim chance that Natasha would be roaming around the room but you thought you’d take all precautions just to be safe. You took one step back, surveying the room like it was a crime scene that you were trying to clean up in a hurry.

”Not too bad.” Bucky murmured behind you, catching your eyes in the reflection of the mirror, his hair now back to semi-normal, framing his face. He moved towards you, approaching slowly and gracefully like he was being pulled into your orbit. A small smile drew up onto his lips when his chest met yours, his arms immediately draping around your waist, his hands finding their place on your hips. He didn’t squeeze the sensitive flesh, he just held, his fingers twitching against you. You closed your eyes for a beat, exhaling slowly, trying to keep yourself composed.

”We really can’t be doing this right now…” You whispered, your voice sounding far less convincing than it was meant to be. When you opened your eyes he was already looking down at you, pupils blown wide, the thin blue ring around it shimmering, his eyes scanning over every detail of your face.

“I know…Just give me a minute okay?” You opened your mouth to say something, but couldn’t find a reason to protest, so you gave in, bringing your hands to rest against his chest, your fingers fanning over the smooth cotton of his shirt, his expression softening.

Then, with no rush at all, he bent his head and kissed you.

It was soft and slow, a gentle meeting of mouths that made your knees threaten to buckle all over again. Your hands curled into his shirt, gripping tight, like part of you already missed him even though he hadn’t gone anywhere.

His mouth moved with intention, savoring. One hand slipped up from your hip to cradle the back of your head, holding you steady as he pulled back to tilt his head, kissing you again, this time allowing it to deepen and last just little longer so that the both of you were desperate for one another. He was on a mission to remember exactly what you tasted like before everything between you had to be hidden behind sharpened words and narrowed eyes again, and he was exceeding his goals tenfold. Your hands slid up his shirt, arms curling around his neck to bring him closer, a gentle moan escaping his throat as his fingers tightened at your waist.

Then a soft knock at the front door tore the moment apart. You froze against him, pulling away, lips still parted and swollen, your heart slamming into your ribs like it was trying to escape. He gulped, pressing his forehead to yours, exhaling a curse under his breath.

“Perfect timing, as always.” He whispered, you narrowed your eyes at him, reluctantly pushing at his chest.

”Get your game face on, Barnes.” He stepped back, the warmth of his hands leaving you. You watched him closely, as he wiped his bottom lip off with his thumb before dragging his palm down his face, like he was scrubbing the softness off him, following behind you while you made your way towards the door.

Another knock echoed through the room, this one a little more firmer than the last.

”Alright, alright,” You muttered, glancing over your shoulder, seeing that Bucky was over by the kitchenette, leaning against the counter, his jaw set, eyes ice cold, back in character. You took a deep breath, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

”Hey,” You greeted, being met by Steve and Natasha at the door, the both of them looking content but slightly impatient. They looked like they had a night, and the lack of sleep was apparent in their eyes. You stepped aside, letting them into the suite with a polite smile.

”Took you guys long enough,” Bucky commented, his tone dry and mocking, as he opened up the mini fridge, searching for something, like he was trying to distract himself from looking over at you.

”Blame Steve, he’s the one that still doesn’t know how to drive properly.” Natasha shot back.

”I was going the speed limit…” Steve corrected, his soft blue eyes scanning the room in bewilderment, surprised at how large and fancy the entire place really was.

”That’s the problem,” Natasha commented, also admiring the scale of the room and it’s setup, “If we were any slower, we’d have to fucking crawl Rogers.” Steve sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck, as Natasha strolled further into the suite, her eyes scanning every inch of the space like she was a detective, which in some ways she was.

“You guys really lucked out on the accommodations,” Steve commented, peeking into the bedroom, your spine immediately tensing, you were praying that he didn’t see anything odd, or any proof that you shared a bed. You wrung your hands together, drawing your attention back to Natasha, seeing her eyes land on the finished champagne and whiskey bottles, the empty glasses, and the array of minis that had been drained.

“Did you guys decide to go on a bender or something? What’s with all the alcohol?” She questioned, her eyes shooting between both you and Bucky, watching him pull a bottle of water from the fridge, cracking the cap in one go.

“How else did you think we refrained from killing each other?” Bucky replied quietly, taking a sip from the bottle. Natasha crossed her arms over her chest.

”So you want us to believe that the two of you were just civil the entire time you were here and didn’t have a total scrap?” She asked, as Steve brought your duffel bag out of the bedroom, dropping it to the ground with a thud.

“I’m pretty sure one of us would be dead if there was a scrap…And it certainly wouldn’t have been me.” You commented, shooting a pointed glance in Bucky’s direction, trying to ignore his lips turning up behind the rim of his water bottle.

”Not with that shaky left hook of yours,” Bucky muttered, twisting the cap back on, his eyes going over to Natasha, “I had plenty of opportunities to take her down, I thought I was being nice by not doing so…Guess I should’ve taken my chances huh?” He asked, almost as if to mock her.

”You’d be face down on the carpet crying for Steve if you tried to lay a finger on me, so you should be grateful you didn’t press your luck, old man.” Bucky let out a soft laugh, and just as he was about to rebuttal, Steve interrupted.

”How are the both of you still on the hate train? You would think you would’ve gotten it all out of your systems by this point.” He said, exhausted, picking up your bag from the floor, “You guys better not be like this on the jet ride home, or else I’m going to rip my hair out.”

”No promises,” You and Bucky said in near unison, eyes immediately flicking to each other for a fraction of a second before quickly looking away. Natasha didn’t miss it, of course she didn’t, her lips turning up into a knowing smirk, one that could unearth secrets quicker than any truth serum on the market. She didn’t say anything, but she watched the two of you like she was reading the final chapter of a mystery novel she had solved halfway through. Steve sighed, picking up your duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder with ease.

”Alright you two, let’s get the hell out of here, the sooner we get in the air, the sooner the both of you can go back to living your separate lives.” Bucky moved quickly, grabbing his own bag from where he had left it near the couch, his fingers flexing slightly around the strap as he adjusted it over his broad shoulder, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth for a split second, a memory of the grasp he had on your hips the night before popping into your head, but you pushed it out quickly, making your way out of the room.

As the hotel door clicked shut behind the four of you, the warm hush of the luxury suite was replaced by the sterile chill of the marble hallway. You adjusted the strap of your bag, catching Bucky’s eye for half a heartbeat as you stepped into the elevator. Neither of you said a word, but the heat from that glance lingered, like a promise. After the flight. After the debrief. You’d see each other again, and be wrapped up in the ultraviolet rays of your lust that burned between the both of you.

The two of you stood behind Steve and Natasha in the elevator, trying to keep some distance between each other, the silence being filled only by the soft hum of the machinery. You could feel the faint warmth radiating from him, as Bucky shifted slightly from side to side, his bag brushing against you gently, almost like he was trying to get you to look at him, but you ignored it.

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, you stepped out into the parking garage. The air was cooler here, sharp with the scent of exhaust and fresh concrete. Steve led the way toward the sleek black SUV waiting at the curb. Its windows were tinted darker than standard issue, and the engine was idling with a quiet purr. The garage was practically empty, except for a few cars scattered haphazardly in different spots, nothing completely out of the ordinary.

Natasha popped the trunk, and Steve tossed your bag in, with Bucky following suit, slinging his own up on top of yours. You peeked into the trunk, your eyes landing on a large black case that was tucked neatly in the corner, with Steve’s shield beside it. You paused.

”Natasha, care to explain the small arsenal you’ve got in here?” You asked, cocking a brow at her. Bucky peered over your shoulder, looking at the same thing you were, glancing over at Natasha for an answer. She shrugged, moving them over, pulling the trunk door down with one hand.

”It’s a little insurance.” She responded.

”Against what, exactly? An entire fleet of super soldiers? You really think that is going to protect us if Orkolov decides to send people for us?” Bucky questioned, his arms crossing over his chest.

”You two poked a hornet’s nest with a flamethrower…Any type of weapon at this point will be beneficial to have.” Steve commented, walking towards the driver’s seat, you scoffed, adjusting your sweater as you brushed by Bucky, having him trail close behind you while you opened up the back door and slipped across the leather seats, your foot knocking against another black box. Bucky followed in behind you, the tension from earlier curling and lighting back to life, like an ember that refused to go out. You leaned your head back against the headrest, eyes flicking out the window, avoiding Bucky’s gaze that was burning into the side of your face.

Natasha climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a quiet finality.

”Okay grandpa, let’s actually go a little above the speed limit this time.” She quipped as Steve put the car into drive, shaking his head at her, pulling out of the parking garage with practiced ease. The sun was rising on the streets of Vienna, but the citizens were nowhere to be found on the sidewalks. It was understandable to an extent, especially by the way the city buzzed until all hours of the night…The people had to sleep at some point.

Bucky leaned down, picking up the small case on the ground, placing it between the both of you, popping it open, checking the contents of it to distract him.

”Jesus Christ,” He muttered under his breath, eyeing the neat rows of ammo, the two short-range rifles, the three compact grenades that formed a triangle in the foam that held everything together, and a set of knives. “So much for a little bit of insurance Romanoff…” He added dryly, picking up one of the guns, and loading it, handing it over to you with a holster, giving himself the opportunity to touch your skin, even if it was just for a millisecond. You didn’t meet his eyes, but the contact made a shiver run down your spine, the unspoken words curling between the both of you just from the brief touch.

”Thanks,” You whispered, your voice tight, like a rubber band that was stretched to its limits. He didn’t say anything back, he just collected his own selection of weapons, then leaned back and stared ahead. You adjusted the weapon on your thigh, eyes scanning the empty streets that passed you once more, now getting an eerie feeling in your gut that something was off, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Then the first hit came like a thunderclap of reality.

One second the SUV was moving through the sleeping streets of Vienna and the next the sound of metal on metal screeched through your ears, the full speed impact of a truck hitting your side pulling you out of your mind in an instant. Glass exploded inward, and all four of you let out your own personal array of curses, the car spinning out while Steve tried to somehow regain control of the wheel. You could feel your ribs burn, your leg screaming with a searing pain, an unnatural warmth coating your skin, as the car settled, the scent of burnt tires filling your lungs. Bucky’s hand grabbed your arm, yanking you out of your daze.

”Are you okay?” He asked, panicked, unbuckling his seatbelt in one quick motion, shifting closer to you, his eyes roaming your body, pausing when he saw it, “Oh god.” He muttered, pulling back a little to look at the damage, your eyes followed his gaze, looking down at the right side of your ribcage, staring at the blooming crimson stain that soaked into your sweater, noticing a hole in the fabric where glass had sliced through and impaled your skin, a shard shimmering in the light.

”I’m fine, I’m fine.” You repeated, grabbing onto his vibranium wrist, trying to convince him of something you didn’t really believe. It wasn’t as bad as the other injuries you had experienced, but the timing was not beneficial to the situation.

The second hit came as quickly as the first did, another truck clipping the front of the car this time, spinning it out of control once again. The tires screamed and the metal buckled, jerking your body sideways, but before you could even brace yourself for the impact, Bucky wrapped his arm around you, putting his body weight over yours to shield you from any additional injuries or glass, pressing his vibranium hand against the ceiling of the SUV to brace himself, the vehicle continuing to spin like it was kicked by a god. His breath was ragged against your ear as the sickening motion screeched to a violent halt, the front end slamming into a cement pillar.

Smoke was already curling from the hood, the SUV croaking out its final grunt of life before the engine died. You hissed through your teeth, feeling Bucky pull himself from you, his hand immediately undoing your seatbelt, while the other one caressed your cheek, gently tilting your head.

”Y/N…Hey. Open your eyes.” He instructed sternly, his fingers tapping against your face, getting your attention in an instant.

”You guys okay back there?” Steve asked, his voice sounding like it was distant, almost as if the ringing in your ears was clouding the volume. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, coughing the smoke out of your lungs.

”Y/N’s bleeding, she’s got some glass in her.” Bucky said, his blue irises frantically scanning over you and the dazed look you had on your face, his fingers pressing more firmly against your cheek. You blinked again, your vision swimming into clarity, wincing at the pain that spread like fire under your skin. Bucky grabbed your hand and placed it against your ribs, pressing his down onto the back of yours.

”Keep pressure on it okay? We are gonna move you.” His voice was so calm, yet underneath it all there was a sense of urgency, something sharp, something worried even. He was not the version of him that had kissed you like you were his source of oxygen just half an hour ago, nor was he the version that cried in your arms when you had hugged him…This…This was survival Bucky. You nodded at him, pressing down against the wound.

He leaned over the backseat, grabbing Steve’s shield, handing it to him quickly. The smell of smoke and burning rubber grew thicker by the second, and the sun had barely begun to rise over the skeletal outlines of the buildings around you. The SUV’s hood hissed with steam, and the shattered windshield was a jagged mess of glass and spiderweb cracks. Even through all of this everything remained eerily still. No footsteps. No chatter. No traffic. Just the four of you against whatever was coming.

”We need to get the fuck out of this car before we get flanked.” Natasha said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Then…

A sharp buzz of static echoed through the streets.

“You said we’d meet again, didn’t you? And my, my…I think I beat my own record, didn’t even have you wait more than twenty-four hours…I must admit, I think that’s quiet impressive.” His voice echoed through the streets, the thick accent, the odd whistling in his speech from where his teeth had been knocked out the night before, it was all too familiar, and instantly recognizable. Orkolov. Your blood ran cold, even as your wound burned hot beneath your hand. The voice echoed unnaturally through the street, projected through concealed speakers somewhere in the shadows of the buildings, bouncing around like a ghost that wouldn’t die.

Steve had already thrown his door open, shield in hand, sweeping the street with his eyes. Natasha followed instantly, gun drawn, crouching behind the SUV.

”Barnes, there’s an alley on your left, get her to cover. Steve and I are gonna start moving down the street, see if we can get an extraction point.” Bucky didn’t hesitate for a second, his vibranium hand wrapped around your forearm gently despite the urgency of the situation, kicking the door open and pulling you out of the wrecked vehicle. Your legs trembled beneath you from the impact, your right leg pulsing with pain, like you couldn’t bear weight on it, but he kept you upright, half-carrying, half-guiding you toward the alleyway that Natasha pointed out, right between two shuttered storefronts, as Orkolov’s voice followed you like smoke.

“You thought I would let the both of you go after what you did? Thought I would give you the proper information on the super soldier delivery? After all that? You are both so naive…They’re already here making their way to this exact location to clear you guys out.” You glanced up at Bucky as he guided you down slowly onto the damped concrete behind a dumpster, crouching low with his gun drawn, his body staying angled in front of yours. You could see the tension in every line on his face, his muscles coiling from the venomous tone Orkolov was taking, knowing that he had this prepared all along. You wrapped your hand around Bucky’s forearm, in an attempt to possibly calm him down, his eyes drawing down to yours, his hot breath fanning over your face due to the close proximity.

”But I’m not going to kill you…Not before I get to see what I’ve always wanted to…An old war machine…” The words sank into the silence, and you could feel Bucky’s muscles stiffen beneath your touch, his fist clenching. “Because I’m a nice man though…I’ll give you two love birds a moment to say goodbye.” You could hear the smugness of his voice, the mocking tone he took, even though the odds were stacked against you, Steve, Bucky, and Natasha for that matter. The air changed in those moments, and there was a heavy, looming dread that overtook the both of you. Your hand tightened around his arm even more.

”Bucky.” You whispered, “Don’t listen to him. Focus on me.” He shook his head.

”Y/N…You know that’s not how it works…I-If he has them…It’s over, this isn’t like last night, it won’t be a trance you can break me out of.” His voice was hoarse, eyes glassy, already brimming with tears, knowing that it was of no use trying to beat around the bush, the reality of the situation was clear as day. It was going to happen whether you liked it or not, and in minutes Bucky would be gone…Replaced with the person who tried to kill you. The thought made you sick, and just like him, your eyes began to flood with tears as well.

”Just when things were looking up huh?” You croaked, attempting to somehow lighten the moment, your other hand still pressing tight against the bleeding that was beginning to slow on your ribcage. He huffed, a weak laugh coming out of his mouth, shaking his head, putting his gun down beside you, before reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb trembling as it wiped away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye. His gaze searched yours, desperate, pleading, and frantic, memorizing every part of your face, feeling you lean into his touch like it might be the last thing you ever got from him.

”Trust me…If I had a choice I would’ve stayed at that hotel with you for as long as you wanted.” He whispered back, the both of you sharing a bittersweet laugh, before your throat tightened from the flood of emotions that took you, the broken sound of your breath hitching. Bucky’s hand moved slowly down your cheek, gently curling behind your neck to draw you into him, his forehead pressing to yours, the warmth of his palm radiating against your skin. The silence stretched between the both of you, as you brought your hand up to his chin, scraping the stubble on it.

”This isn’t fair…” You stated, another set of tears escaping the corners of your eyes, trailing down your cheeks, catching on your jaw.

”I know,” He said, his breath shuddering, brushing warm over your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes red rimmed, lashes soaked, “But I’m grateful we at least had a night together.” He added, his thumb brushing over the hair on the nape of your neck, as he leaned in to give you one last kiss, the most gentle of them all, yet the shortest, the taste of salt catching on your tongue.

“I need you to promise me something,” He breathed, his vibranium hand coming up to hold your heated cheek, your tears sliding down his palm, seeping into the crevices. You nodded, feeling his thumb pressing into your skin, your hand still caressing his jaw.

“If he comes out…If he takes over fully. If he even comes close to you…You don’t hesitate. You don’t flinch. You don’t beg…And you don’t wait. You do what you have to, so that you can get out safely, okay?” Your mind was racing at a thousand miles a minute trying to make sense of what he was asking of you, your eyes searching his, seeing the way he looked down at you, almost like he knew he had no chance against this, the lines between his brows etching hard into his skin. It finally clicked.

“Bucky…You can’t ask that of me.” You could see the sadness in his eyes, the way they turned down at you, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, smearing your tears along it.

“I would rather die by your hand than live through the possibility that I did something even worse than before to you…Do you understand me?” Your breath caught in your throat, every inch of your body trembling, not from pain, not from the blood still soaking into your sweater, but from the weight of what he was asking. What he was pleading for.

“Y-Yes I understand.” You sniffled, his hand still resting against your face, cradling it gently. The look in his eyes told you everything; he wasn’t asking because he wanted to. He was asking because he had to. Because there was no one else he trusted to make the call. No one else who mattered enough to make the act hurt less.

“Promise me you’ll do it.” He whispered, his voice raspy, raw, and broken, cracking at the seams as he tried to stay stoic.

You stared at him, the man who had once been your enemy. Who had cared enough to ask Steve about you when you were in the hospital. Who you had hated until something in you cracked open and everything inside came pouring out to fill his reservoir.

And now…

Now he was asking you to kill him.

The sound that left your throat wasn’t even a word–it was a whimper, a sob, a choking gasp of a person being forced to make a choice no one should ever have to make.

Your lips trembled.

Your heart shattered.

But you nodded.

Just once.

Barely.

“…Okay.”

The second you said it, something inside you died.

You felt it, that small, stubborn hope you’d been clutching like a lifeline slipping through your fingers like sand, dissolving into the blood on your sweater, the smoke in your lungs, the tears on your cheeks.

Bucky closed his eyes.

And when he opened them again, he looked at peace. Not happy. Not even relieved. Just at rest. Like he’d finally let go of the weight he’d carried for too long.

“I’m sorry,” He said, his voice barely more than a breath. “For everything.” You couldn’t see him through the blur of tears that continued to form in your eyes, your fingers trembling against his chin, his breath still fanning out over your skin from how close he was to you.

“I forgive you.” Was all you could get out, before the static over the speakers hissed back to life, and the first word dropped like a nuclear bomb between the both of you.

“Желание.” Longing. Bucky’s body tensed up almost in an instant, like his body had taken a bullet to the spine. Your hand was still on his cheek when it started, and he flinched like your skin burned him, his eyes going wide as a sudden tremor shook through him. Slowly, his hands slipped from your skin, the warmth fleeting, being replaced by the cool air that blew through the alleyway. His vibranium fingers wrapped around your wrist, and with devastating gentleness, he pulled your palm away from his jaw.

“Ржавый.” Rusted. He dropped your hand into your lap, a guttural sound ripping out of his throat while he tried to shuffle back away from you. His lips parted as if he was trying to say something, but right before anything could make its way out his jaw clenched, and he doubled over, his hair falling in front of his face, attempting to move himself away from you even more. His vibranium hand was steady against the concrete beneath him, as his other hand reached up to grip the back of his neck, you could see the way his nails dug into the skin, the soft tone of it going a deep red from how hard he was clawing at the same spot over and over again.

Then his teeth snapped together.

“Печь.” Furnace. You heard the crunch. The wet, squelchy sound of flesh between teeth echoing through your ears, your eyes immediately noticing blood dripping from his mouth in thick hot streaks, staining the concrete.

“Bucky!” You gasped, your instincts taking over before you could even think, your hands reaching out to him despite the pain that radiated from your ribs and from your leg. He staggered back, flinching at your attempt to touch him, his face coming back into your line of sight, his blue eyes glistening with terror, a sheen of sweat forming just above his brow.

”Stay…Stay back.” He choked, the words muffled and slurring around the blood that continued to fill his mouth, dripping from the corners, staining his skin.

“Рассвет.” Daybreak. Bucky let out a strangled gasp, his lungs seizing mid-breath, his vibranium hand reeling back and slamming into the concrete, a crack forming from the impact. You didn’t flinch, nor did you move a muscle, all you could do was cry, and watch as he slipped away from you with each word.

“Семнадцать.” Seventeen. His whole body shook, spine arching so hard it looked like something within him was trying to snap him in two. He let out a blood-choked scream, his hand continuing to claw at the back of his neck, scratching so much that his skin was raw, like he was trying to physically tear the programming out of his brain before it rooted into his system again, and invaded him. His shoulders met the opposite wall of the alley, his boots slipping in the blood and the shallow puddles beneath him.

”D-Don’t l-look.” He stuttered. His voice didn’t sound whole anymore, it was splintered, like it came from deep inside a collapsing structure, his chin coated now slicked and stained with the crimson blood that continued to flow out of his mouth. “P-P-Please don’t l-look.” He begged, as you tore your eyes away from him, another sick crunch being heard as his jaw locked, biting into the already raw and bleeding flesh of his cheek once again. You winced at the sound, shaking from the breaths you were trying to take in through your sobs. You could hear him spit onto the ground, the rocks beneath him scraping against one another as he shifted.

“Добросердечный.” Benign. The scream that tore from Bucky’s throat was no longer human, it sounded like a wounded animal, raw and ragged, like his soul was being dragged out through his chest. It echoed down the alleyway, bouncing off brick and steel like a siren of death, a sound so harrowing it stopped your breath mid-sob. Your eyes glanced at him, as he twisted against the wall, his back arching off it, limbs spasming like he was being electrocuted from the inside out. You couldn’t take it anymore. With all the strength you had left you scrambled forward, your sweater dragging through the puddles of blood that had dripped from his mouth, ignoring the white-hot pain that erupted from your ribs and leg. Before you could reach him, he slammed his vibranium fist into the pavement between the both of you. A warning that was wordless yet absolute.

Stay back.

His eyes were glassy with terror, wide and dilated, locked on you like you were a tether to the last piece of himself, he shook his head at you, the blood continuing to stream down his chin in thick glistening strands, dripping onto his white shirt, soaking it.

”C-Can’t…” Was all he could get out, his bottom lip shaking, bracing for the next word to come.

“Девять.” Nine. He grunted, bringing his hands up to his skull, his nails digging into his temples, dragging angry red lines down the side of his face, wincing at the pain coming from his bleeding mouth, and now from the marks he had made on himself. His teeth were coated a crimson red, as he spat again, trying to remove the excess blood that continued to flood his mouth.

“Возвращение домой.” Homecoming. His breath came out in staggered, wet, broken gasps. Choking slightly as his back arched again, his palms falling to the concrete to somehow brace himself so he wouldn’t fall. You could hear him trying to speak, his lips forming your name. It was slurred, distorted beyond comprehension, half-swallowed by the blood, and half-erased by the war that ran through his mind.

“Y-Y/N-“ He forced your name out, voice straining like it was dragged across glass, like he was attempting to keep your name on his lips so when he inevitably turned, The Winter Soldier would spare you somehow. You pushed yourself up onto your hands, still looking at him, your sweater soaked in a mixture of your blood, his blood, and the water from the puddles that lined the alleyway.

“Один.” One. His fingers curled into the concrete, veins rising beneath his skin. His back arched, muscles pulled so tight they looked like they might snap from the tension. The scream he let out was strangled and wet, ripped through clenched teeth, his jaw trembling with the effort not to break. The coagulated blood continued to spill from his mouth, thick and hot, splattering the ground beneath him in rhythmic droplets. He didn’t sound human anymore.

“Грузовой вагон.” Freight car. Suddenly he collapsed forward, panting, his body twitching once, then twice, before freezing completely, his hair shielding his face, so it was out of your sight completely. Silence overtook the alleyway, and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears, banging through your chest like a drum. You were breathing fast, on the brink of hyperventilating, as he lifted his his slowly, and looked at you.

His irises were blown, wild and distant. You could’ve sworn they were black, because you couldn’t see the signature storm blue, not even a hint of it. It was just darkness.

Then he moved with such ease, like he wasn’t just fighting for his life seconds ago. It was smooth, fluid, and silent, the perfect mix for a highly trained assassin. He crawled towards you on his hands and knees, the puddles ripping with every movement staining his sweatpants, his mouth still dripping blood.

You scrambled backward, your palms slipping against the wet concrete, your wound on your ribs screaming for your attention. You tried to speak, tried to say his name, to plead, but your breathing was so fast it just came out in choked noises. The puddles rippled beneath his hands, spreading red with each movement, his palms dragging through his own blood, staining them even further. Your spine hit the cold wall behind you, the rough texture biting through your sweater, every nerve in your body immediately lighting ablaze as the raw panic settled in.

“Bucky…” You rasped, finally managing to say something. He didn’t answer, not that you were expecting him to anyways. His head hung low as he moved, his long strands of sweat drenched hair clinging to his cheeks and jaw, finally close enough in proximity that you could smell the metallic, coppery scent of his blood, like you were breathing in pure rust.

Your lips parted, a tremor shaking through your body, his body shifting in front of you, mirroring how he shielded your body when you had arrived in the alley. His head tilted just enough for you to see the way the blood glistened along his teeth, watching your sweater garner more and more stains from where the crimson strings dripped from his chin. His breath hit your face, warm, humid and metallic. Your nose crinkled at the smell, his shadow draping over you completely. You pressed yourself tighter against the wall, still holding your wound, wincing while trying to build distance between you and him.

His gaze dropped, and you followed it, seeing it lingering on the spot where you were bleeding, your fingers trembling with every shallow breath you tried to take. His hand came up, his movements precise and calculating as he reached towards where your hand was.

“D-Don’t…Please don’t.” You whispered, your voice barely audible through the trembling in your chest. But he didn’t stop. His eyes, black and bottomless, remained fixed on the bloodied press of your hand over your ribs. With a single, rough jerk, he shoved your palm aside, and suddenly the dam broke and you screamed, only for it to be cut off by his hand clamping over your mouth.

The blood on his skin was warm, slick and metallic as it smeared across your lips and chin, his grip tightening just enough to muffle you. In that moment you thought this was it, this was where he was going to kill you, and you couldn’t even care less, because you weren’t bringing yourself to shoot him, no matter what you had promised Bucky. Something in The Winter Soldier’s eyes told you he knew exactly what you were thinking, as he watched another fresh set of tears streaming down your cheeks, soaking into the side of his hand.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the pain, for the end, for the inevitable…But then his vibranium hand began to move, pushing apart the torn fabric of your sweater to expose the wound, his fingers curling around something jagged that shifted in you, something that didn’t belong, the shard of glass. In one quick motion he yanked, and a scream tore from your lungs, muffling and vibrating against your face, his hand loosening just a little bit from your mouth so you could breathe easier, even though the taste of his blood was making you lightheaded. There was temporary relief from the burning sensation, and now when you inhaled it didn’t feel like your entire right side was going to explode…

The sound of glass shattering rang out through your ears, causing you to flinch. For a single, petrified second, you were certain he was going to drive that shard into your gut—twist it until your lungs collapsed or until you bled out. You had braced for it, felt your heart seize in anticipation of the pain that never came but the wave of relief when he had thrown it almost made your sobbing worse.

He slid his hand off your mouth, smearing the blood along your skin in the process, his touch lingering for just a few seconds before leaving you completely, his shadow still looming over you, while his breath fanned over your skin.

You opened your eyes, though your vision was occluded due to the tears that just kept coming. You blinked gently, allowing them to fall down your cheeks, letting them intermingle with the blood stains he left on you, until you finally dared to look up at him.

His face was still, frozen and devoid of emotion. His mouth was open, and his cheeks were swollen from where he had torn through the wet flesh with his teeth. He was still bleeding but it had tapered off a bit, his body already working overtime to heal itself as fast as it could. His pupils remained dilated, but something—something in those dark, hollow eyes flickered. Just barely.

Recognition.

It was fractured, uncertain, and buried deep beneath layers of programming, but it was there. A single thread in a web of chaos. His brows twitched, and the muscles in his jaw tightened beneath your observant eyes. You didn’t know if it was your face or your voice echoing in his ears, but something rooted him to the spot and stopped all additional movements from him.

“…Do you know me?” You asked, the question spilling out of your lips like you were a madwoman that completely forgot who she was sitting in front of.

He didn’t answer.

But his body shifted subtly. Slowly. Mechanically. His bloodstained palm coming up to hover over your face.

His eyes, black and void of all emotion, didn’t blink. They pinned you in place, and for the first time since he changed, there was something behind them. Something that watched you not like a target, but like a truth.

A memory.

His gaze dropped, not in fear or hesitation, but with razor-sharp purpose, tracing the line from your face to the center of your chest.

And then his hand moved down.

Not fast.

Not like he was going to go in for a strike. It was like he was landmarking, the shadow of his hand ghosting over your collarbone, before stopping right where the zipper of your sweater started.

Then with the greatest hesitation, he pressed his palm flat against your chest.

Right over the scar.

Over the thick, blood-matted fabric of your ruined sweater. Over the place his knife had sunk in–when you were screaming, when you had fought him, when your blood had spilled across his hands and he didn’t stop.

Your breath caught in your throat, shallow and fast. You could feel your pulse hammering right beneath where his palm lay, and somehow, that felt more terrifying than if he had tried to kill you again. Because this wasn’t the Soldier attacking.

This was him having a conscience of some sort, which was certainly not in his programming.

A beat passed.

Then another.

His hand didn’t move for a long time, it just rested there, he wasn’t pressing hard enough to hurt you, but it wasn’t a ghost of a touch, either. It was firm. Present. A silent claim. A memory anchoring itself to flesh.

You could feel his fingers tremble slightly, just the smallest quiver against the slope of your chest. Whether it was from restraint or something else, you didn’t know. But he didn’t pull away.

Your hand moved before your mind caught up–slowly, trembling, stained with dried blood. You reached across the space between you, watching him the whole time, watching the unreadable storm behind those bottomless black eyes.

And then you touched him.

Your palm met his chest, just over his heart. You were surprised that you felt its faint beat through your hand, steady and strong. The fabric of his shirt was soaked through, sticky with blood and sweat, but through it you could feel the coldness that radiated from him.

He flinched at first contact. It was a subtle recoil, a twitch in the muscles beneath your hand. But he didn’t stop you. Didn’t push you away. And somehow that meant everything.

You kept your hand there, splayed open over him like you were trying to absorb some part of him back into yourself, a soft sigh escaping your throat, as your pulse pounded in your ears. Even though he wasn’t Bucky, there was still something in there that held The Winter Soldier back from doing what he does best, you just couldn’t understand what, or how it was happening. He continued to stare at you as you carefully brought your other hand up into his line of sight, reaching towards his face, wanting to see how far he’d let you go until he showed his true colours and snapped.

His eyes flickered over to your fingers, watching them hover above the dark red swelling on his cheek–where his teeth had torn into his own flesh in a desperate attempt to resist the programming that was built into him. He didn’t stop you–but he didn’t invite you to continue either, he simply waited with the same unreadable expression carved into his blood-slicked features like stone.

With the utmost caution, you closed the space, allowing your palm to press against his cheek. His skin was ice cold, like winter steel. Like something that was forged from the snow that never dethawed. The bite of it stung your fingertips, and it made you flinch, yet you kept your hand there, cupping the wounded part of him as if it could ease the agony he had inflicted on himself.

Your thumb brushed faintly over his cheek, across the dried, sticky blood that coated his skin, trying to be gentle with him even though his eyes were still dilated and blank, like he was on the brink of switching at any time.

For these suspended moments he let you touch him like he was who you desperately wanted him to be, absorbing every caress like it was meant for him, even though it wasn’t. You watched as he closed his eyes, his lips parting for a brief moment, before he spoke.

“Ты моя слабость.” You are my weakness. The words slipped from his lips like a sin–low, hoarse, and raw. It was a confession, a surrender, dragged from the deep, ruined part of him that no amount of programming could erase. You could feel your pulse throbbing beneath your skin, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

The Winter Soldier–this cold, broken weapon that had been forged in blood and silence–had just admitted something no handler could have beaten out of him. No conditioning could have rewritten that. And as his breath ghosted over your skin–thick with the coppery scent of his blood–you felt something inside you shift, fracturing, breaking.

Your fingers trailed from his cheek to his jawline, following the sharp curve that was slick with drying blood. Your hand settled gently at the side of his cold damp neck, where his pulse bounded against the pads of your fingers at an irregular rhythm, he was nervous, but it didn’t show on his face. His eyes still weren’t open, but you could see his bottom lip trembling, like he was trying to resist whatever was going on inside his head.

Then slowly, you pulled him towards you, until his ear hovered beside your lips, and his blood-matted hair brushed against your cheek, the scent of iron truly invading your senses this time. You swallowed thickly, tilting your head so your breath tickled the shell of his ear.

“Я твоя слабость, потому что он все еще дышит внутри тебя… Обещай мне, что ты позволишь ему вернуться, Солдат.” I am your weakness because he’s still breathing inside you…Promise me you’ll let him come back, Soldat. It was as if you could feel his body stall as the words slipped from your lips, like the act of breathing for him suddenly became foreign. You assumed it was because he didn’t think you knew Russian, or maybe it was because you were pleading with him to give up his residency in Bucky’s body, either way, the tension between the both of you was palpable.

There was a moment where nothing happened, where he was still, where you couldn’t even tell if he was breathing–if it wasn’t for his pulse slamming against your fingertips you would’ve thought he died because of how statuesque he was.

Then he began to turn his head to the side, just enough for his eyes to meet yours. They were still black, twin voids with a slight ring of blue surrounding them if you looked closely–which due to the proximity, you could basically see every detail in them. His forehead hovered an inch from yours, and now you were sharing air, invading each other's lungs with every exhale and inhale.

The two of you were locked in place, blood-stained and tethered by something unspoken, though neither of you looked away from one another. It was as if you were communicating without words, until he gave you a small nod. It was so faint you thought you imagined it, but you took it as an answer, a promise, regardless of how tiny the gesture was.

Before you could say anything to him, a distinct sound pierced the quiet.

It was distant at first, the sound of tires rolling against concrete, the faint squeaking of the truck's suspension heaving from its occupants, the rumbling of the engine. Then it grew closer, stopping short behind the mouth of the alley.

The Winter Soldier pulled away for a moment, his body immediately growing rigid, slipping back into its calculated, mechanical, inhuman form. He glanced over the dumpster, scanning the area with professional accuracy, his ears tuning into every sound the new arrivals made, trying to figure out how many there were just by the different types of step patterns he heard. He counted out five, but for all he knew it could’ve been more.

You felt his vibranium hand slip down to the gun holster on your thigh, unclipping the bloodied leather to slide the sidearm free. He looked down at you, then to the gun, examining it for a moment, getting comfortable with the grip before removing his bloodied palm from your chest, reaching for the other gun he had placed beside you prior to his transformation. You watched him closely, seeing the way his thumbs traced over the grips, adjusting his hands to suit the weapons, before putting them both down briefly.

Wordlessly, and with a steady touch, slipped his hands under your knees, guiding your legs inward, up towards your chest so you were practically curled into a ball behind the dumpster. He was careful, precise, and made sure he didn’t cause you any additional pain, nudging you behind the rusted metal just a bit more to ensure you were completely covered. You both shared one last look at each other, him giving you one more nod to solidify what he had agreed to just moments prior. I’ll let him come back.

Then without another thought, he picked up both guns–yours and his–rose in one quick motion, and slipped out the opposite end of the alley, his footsteps careful enough not to echo and give off his location prematurely, before firing off a warning shot that rang through your ears. The shadows swallowed him whole, leaving you alone, listening to the chaotic array of comms going off, and an array of arguing that came in short bursts, followed by footsteps going further away from where you sat behind the dumpster.

You stayed frozen for a long while after he left. You couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think. All you could do was curl tighter into yourself behind the dumpster, your hand pressed to the wound on your ribs, the other slick with drying blood that didn’t even feel like yours anymore. Your ears rang with the phantom echo of his words. With the memory of his hand over your mouth, smearing blood across your lips like a brand, then the way he put the same one against your chest.

You didn’t know how long you sat there trembling. It could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours. Then you heard running coming from the same direction he vanished from. You lifted your head weakly, bracing for the possibility that the super soldiers found you before they could get taken out, accepting your fate without a fraction of fear.

From the shadows, Natasha stepped into the light, sweeping the alley with her weapon drawn, her eyes sharp and ready to shoot anything that moved, but it was Steve who saw you first. The look of horror that draped on his face was indescribable, it was as if he was having flashbacks to when he found you after The Winter Soldier had attacked you.

”Y/N/.” He said, filled with panic, his shield clattering to the ground as he rushed towards you, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands hovering over you, not knowing where to start, his eyes frantically going over the bloodstains on your sweater, seeing the wound you were holding with your hand, then looking up to your face, seeing the blood smears that had dried a deep maroon on your skin, resembling bruises.

”Jesus…What happened to you?!” His voice cracking around the question, hesitant to touch you, afraid it might make things worse, Natasha crouching beside you as well now, her brows knitting together with concern. She scanned you–trained, methodical, emotion carefully restrained behind her steel-colored eyes.

“Did he…Did he do this to you?” She asked, pushing your hand off the wound that she was already aware of, applying pressure herself instead, pressing down significantly harder than you had, a hiss escaping your mouth.

”No. I’m not injured apart from my leg and the wound I got from the accident.” You sputtered out through clenched teeth, your fingers curling into the sticky fabric of your sweater.

”You don’t have to cover for him. We heard the trigger words Y/N…He turned into The Winter Soldier, there’s no way he didn’t do anything to you. We heard you scream.” Steve shot back, watching you close your eyes tightly.

”I’m telling you the truth. He didn’t hurt me…He pulled the glass out of the wound…He covered my mouth so I wouldn’t give away our location.” You explained, cringing as Natasha pressed a bit harder into the wound, the pain turning into a slow pulsing throb.

”How do you explain all this blood then?” Steve quipped, motioning to all over you.

”He was bleeding from his mouth…He bit through the inside of his cheek when he was turning…He was trying to resist it.” You said between laboured breaths, feeling your skin beginning to mend together slowly beneath Natasha’s palm, the serum finally kicking up into your bloodstream. “He didn’t lay a hand on me, at least not with the intention of hurting me…You know I’d be dead if he did.” Steve froze in his spot, his eyes glancing over at Natasha, uncertainty flickering behind his blue irises.

”I’ve never seen him do that before…Sure, maybe he’s overridden orders but that was after I took a beating and a half from him…He’s never fought back against the trigger words itself though.” Natasha’s hand slowly began to ease from your side, loosening the pressure, her eyes burning a hole into your cheek, almost like she already knew the reason why, her brain idly connecting the dots, then suddenly an array of gunshots and screaming echoed down the street.

”Listen, how about we discuss this when we get to the extraction point. We only have ten minutes to get there and we are wasting them talking about why he spared her.” She cut in. You immediately tense up, looking between both her and Steve.

”Wait…What about Bucky? We can’t just leave him.” You said, desperately. Steve clenched his jaw, and you could see how the veins in his neck stood out slightly under his skin. You saw the guilt feathering over his features, the conflict playing out on his face, the ache that always lingered behind his eyes when it came to Bucky, and the fear that loomed in the background, knowing that there was a possibility The Winter Soldier wasn’t going to take kindly to him or Natasha if they decided to wait for him.

Steve let out a steady breath through his nose, steadying himself slightly like he was trying to hold back the emotions that were beginning to build within his chest.

”I don’t want to leave him…” He said quietly, “But we can’t risk it Y/N, not like this. We don’t know how he will react to us, and we don’t know if what he did with you was a one off. He could kill us.” He added, seeing the way your eyes began brimming with tears while you shook your head at him.

”You know damn well he would do anything in his power to get to you if you were in his position Steve…You can’t do that to him…Please, don’t do that to him.” Steve dropped his gaze from yours, feeling the anger behind what you were saying.

“We will call for a separate extraction. We just can’t take him with us now. We don’t have time, and we can’t risk it.” Natasha cut in, coming to Steve’s defence. You swallowed hard.

”I’m not leaving him.” You stated, meaning it with every inch of your body. You took in laboured breaths, feeling your side ache for a brief moment, stinging as the flesh began to tether together, but you still refused the idea of leaving Bucky here alone.

”Then we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Steve said, shifting forward quickly. You didn’t even have time to recoil before his arms were under you, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. Immediately you protested.

”No! Get the fuck off me! Let me go!” You screamed, your voice cracking, as you squirmed and kicked against him, the sides of your fists hitting his broad back, seeing Natasha picking up his shield, following closely as he began to move down the alley, opposite to where the screams and gunfire were ringing out.

“Put me down! Don’t do this!” You begged with tears streaming down your face in hot streaks, feeling your chest tighten with every short inhale you took between sobs.

”I’m sorry, Y/N…But I’m not leaving you here to die. I’m doing this for your own safety.” Steve retorted, moving quickly through the streets.

”Fuck my own safety!” You shot back, another fist slamming into his back, continuing to squirm against him to try to make it harder for him to move, even though it had little impact, “You’re abandoning your own fucking friend!” You yelled. Every word that fell from your mouth was like a blade and every thrash of your body against his back was a reminder of the weight of what he was doing. Yet, his arms stayed firm around your legs as he pushed forward, past the burnt-out cars, and closed stores, toward the extraction point that felt like it was lightyears away.

Your sobs grew louder, harsher. Each gasp was ragged, caught between broken cries and short, shallow breaths that made your chest rise and fall like a ticking time bomb. You were falling apart with every second that passed, and it was beginning to worry Steve and Natasha, they had never seen you in such distress before, especially for someone you couldn’t stand three days ago.

Your vision began to blur, shifting into shapes and shadows. You couldn’t get a full breath in. Your lungs clawed at the air, trying to fill, but each inhale came shorter than the last. Your throat burned. Your chest ached. Every sob stuttered in your body, and then, everything went black.

——————

A violent gasp tore out of your throat when you regained consciousness hours later. You jolted upright, eyes wild, searching around the bunk that you were in, hands scrambling around the sheets in a panic, like you were looking for a weapon.

“Woah, woah…Hey, take it easy.” Steve said, breaking through the fog that clouded your mind, his hands coming up to hold onto your shoulders, steadying you as much as possible. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the low lighting, to the cool press of metal walls and the familiar hum of the Quinjet that surrounded you. The bunk you were in was small, cramped, tucked along the edge of the jet’s interior. You were wrapped in a grey military-issued blanket that had slipped halfway down your frame. Beneath it, your clothes were still torn and bloodstained, but the wound on your side had healed, which was a minor relief.

“W-What happened?” You asked, looking up at Steve, who now took a seat on the bed, his expression soft, and exhausted.

”You couldn’t catch your breath, and you passed out,” He said gently, “You’ve been unconscious for a few hours.” Hours. You blinked hard, trying to process his words, feeling the dread coming up and settling in your throat.

”…Where is Bucky?” You whispered, watching the way Steve took his eyes off of you, avoiding your gaze, his hands leaving your shoulders slowly. You could feel your pulse beginning to rise again with each minute of silence that passed through the room.

”Steve. Where is he?” You pushed, your voice stern now, fighting through the panic that pressed into your lungs. He let out a sigh, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.

”We called for a second extraction for him…But they told us we needed to wait until they could get one of the secured units out to him, the ones with a cell. They didn’t want to risk bringing him back without one.” He explained, his eyes scanning over you with concern when he saw your face drop. Your stomach twisted at his words, your shaky hand coming up to cover your mouth, feeling bile rising in your throat.

”I need a bag…I think I’m gonna vomit.” You warned quietly, your bottom lip trembling, watching as Steve stood up from the bed to grab the trash bin near one of the storage containers, handing it over to you quickly. You barely managed to get the bin in your lap before your stomach turned violently. There wasn’t much to throw up since you hadn’t eaten that morning, but the dry heaving still tore through you with brutal force, leaving your throat raw and your muscles shaking, as your body ejected whatever liquid it could.

Steve crouched beside the bunk, one hand steadying the bin, the other rubbing circles along your back, trying to provide you some sort of comfort. Trailing near the end of your vomiting episode you let out a gut wrenching cry, the kind that came straight from your chest, as you raised your head, tears already streaming from your eyes. Steve didn’t say anything at first. He just reached for the trash bin, set it aside gently, and then–without hesitation– he wrapped his arms around you. His touch was careful, firm but not constricting, like he was afraid you might shatter if he held on too tightly. You stiffened at first from the contact, but the moment you felt his steady heartbeat against your temple and his breath settling into your hair, you gave in, sobbing uncontrollably, his shirt soaking up the tears that fell from your eyes.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t tell you to calm down. He just held you like a brother would, his fingers drawing slow, grounding circles into your back while your body shook with the weight of guilt that overtook every inch of your mind. He waited until the storm inside you ebbed, to pull back enough to see your tear stained face, his expression full of concern and confusion, his thumbs coming up to wipe the wetness off your cheeks.

“Y/N…Will you be honest with me and tell me what’s really going on…You’re never like this, I haven’t seen you this emotionally beat up since you were hospitalized, and I’m struggling to understand what’s happening inside your head right now.” Your eyes closed for a moment, feeling the truth sitting heavy in your throat, burning to be said, to be put out there, to be known. You had no clue where to begin with the confession. How could you possibly explain that you formed this connection with one of your sworn enemies that you despised, that did an unthinkable act to you? How could you somehow convince someone that within two days of being saturated within one another you managed to put all your differences aside and bond? It was impossible to do it without sounding like a crazy person, and you knew that, but you took the leap of faith hoping that the scramble of words that poured out of your mouth would convey everything you wanted to say.

”I didn’t mean for it to happen,” You murmured, your eyes darting away from Steve’s, swallowing the lump in your throat, a small laugh coming out of you, almost in disbelief, “God, I didn’t even think it would happen in general. I hated him. You know I did. But…It was like when we got on the plane, and we were alone, things just changed.” You could still feel Steve’s eyes on you, listening with such intent that it looked like he was hanging off every word you said. You looked back at him, your lips pulling up into a bittersweet smile, “I was ready to kill him on that fucking plane…But he didn’t even put up a fight, he showed up with guilt, apologies, he felt remorse for what he did and he was so caring… I just couldn’t help but see him in a different light.” You paused, sniffling, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, noticing your skin was still stained with the blood from the alley.

”He’s everything you used to rant and rave about when you were trying to convince me to give him a chance to apologize.” Steve didn’t speak for a long moment, he just let everything you said settle between the two of you, letting out a long sigh.

”I knew it…” He said quietly, his hands leaving your cheeks, wiping the tears off on his pants. Your eyebrows knitted together.

”What?” He smirked at your reaction.

”Y/N…I’ve known Bucky my whole life basically, I know his tells, and it was pretty easy to piece things together when he kept staring at you from the kitchenette…Also I saw two sets of handprints on the bedroom mirror that the both of you forgot to clean off.” Your mouth dropped open, heat immediately creeping up your skin, rising up your neck and flaring out over your face.

”Could’ve been from the last guests.” You breathed, watching a grin draw up on Steve’s lips.

“Yeah…Not when I could see the little scratches Bucky’s vibranium hand made on the glass.” You couldn’t help but reach up to hide your face in your hands in embarrassment. Steve let out a soft laugh, gently tugging your makeshift shield away from your cheeks, “C’mon, we’re all adults here…Kind of. It’s not that big of a deal.” He explained, letting your wrists, leaning back on the edge of the bunk, bringing his elbows to rest on his knees. The silence that followed was heavier now, stretched and thoughtful, like the weight of what you’d just shared was finally settled into the space between you.

”You must’ve really got through to The Winter Soldier though…” Steve commented, breaking the silence. You tilted your head a bit, glancing down at the blood under your fingernails.

”What do you mean?” You asked, looking back up at him briefly.

”Well…The other reason why they said they needed a secured unit for him was because they found Orkolov and the other super soldiers completely unrecognizable. Executed.” You paused for a moment, your eyebrows raising.

”And you think that’s because of me?” He took a deep breath.

”He knew you were in danger, both The Winter Soldier and Bucky I mean…And judging by the way he tried to hide you behind the dumpster, I’m pretty sure all of that was to keep you safe. I don’t think he would’ve lived if it wasn’t for you…He took down seven super soldiers and Orkolov by himself…Think about that for a second.” You bit your bottom lip.

”I think you’re giving me too much credit here…” Steve gave you a look, one of those classic, weary, no-bullshit Captain America stares that cut through every deflection like a blade.

“I think I’m giving you exactly the credit you deserve,” he said, gently but firmly. “You’re the only one he didn’t hurt. Not a scratch. And I’ve seen him in that state before, he doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t flinch. He neutralizes. Hell he almost fucking killed me when I encountered him, beat the crap out of me until I was black and blue…” You glanced away from him again, picking the skin around one of your nail beds, watching the dried blood flake off onto your sweater.

”…We should’ve waited for him…” You murmured, as Steve watched the way your eyes glossed over, like you were being transported somewhere else. Back to the alley. Where The Winter Soldier stared at you with those black eyes, drinking you in before he left you behind.

”We’ll get him back,” Steve said, his voice completely solid, leaving no room for doubt to peek in, “It’s just going to take a little longer…That’s all…”

——————

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into two months.

Two months of complete silence.

There was no word on Bucky. The extraction team had gone to Vienna three times and searched for him, but found nothing. The higher-ups refused to share any additional information with you and Steve, except for the same repeated line: “Be patient with us, we are doing what we can.”

It was hell.

Every night felt like a loop of that alley, his blood on your hands, the way he pressed his palm over your mouth, the wild look in his eyes that flickered with something more human than anyone expected. You couldn’t stop hearing your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as he disappeared into the shadows. You couldn’t stop thinking about whether he thought you left him on purpose.

You barely slept, and when you did you’d wake up the entire compound with your screaming. You didn’t eat much, just picked at whatever was made, nibbling until a wave of nausea took over and you were forced to stop. The others noticed, of course, they weren’t blind, so they kept their distance, tiptoeing around you while also trying to be supportive.

Natasha tried to keep you moving, dragging you to the training floor under the pretense of sharpening your form, but really, she was just trying to get you to feel something again. Bruce ran blood work on you twice, trying to figure out if the lack of appetite was caused by something physiological or if it was all in your head, but you could’ve saved him the trouble by telling him the truth.

You were heartbroken. That’s where your hunger strike and nightmares were coming from. It was plain and simple. This was the kind of heartbreak that sank deep into your marrow, made your body feel foreign, like your own skin was too heavy to carry. The kind that turned silence into something sharp that pressed against your chest until you had no choice but to gasp for air that never felt like enough.

Tony offered distractions in his own awkward way; projects, new tech for your suit, extra hands-on work in the lab. You tried once and ended up staring at a half-wired circuit board for an hour before leaving the screwdriver behind and going straight back to your room.

Steve stopped trying to push you after the third time he found you curled on the floor of the gym locker room, soaked in sweat and tears, fists raw from pounding the same bag until your knuckles split. After that, he didn’t try to give you pep talks anymore. Didn’t feed you false hope or ask you to stay strong. He just started sitting with you, whether it was on the balcony, or on the roof, rain or shine, it didn’t matter, he just wanted to make sure you had someone with you, and deep down inside, you appreciated his presence.

Then Sunday came.

You only remembered the day because Steve brought you coffee and sat on the balcony beside you, watching as you huddled into the blanket that was draped over your shoulders, the steam from the mug curling upward and kissing the morning air and your face. The sun was barely cresting over the skyline, serenading the clouds with its light, when your comm crackled to life beside you. You flinched at the noise, immediately putting your mug down on the coffee table, and picking up the device, bringing it to your ear.

”Go for Y/N,” You rasped, glancing over at Steve who was shifting in his spot, leaning forward a bit to tune into the call.

”We found him.” It was Hill. Her voice was curt, but quieter than her usual volume, soft and gentle, knowing that the information was going to hit you like a ton of bricks, “We got a ping from a remote safehouse on the outskirts of Hietzing. We got him. He’s alive.” Your eyes went wide, as your throat began to tighten.

“I-Is he okay?” You asked, your voice shaking, while a cool breeze brushed over your skin.

“Yes, but he’s sedated. We’re bringing him back to the compound now.” She replied, and it was like the world had shifted beneath your feet. You reached out to hold onto Steve’s arm, steadying yourself.

”ETA?”

“Four hours. I’ll keep you updated if there’s more information.” Then she hung up. You pulled the comm away from your ear, your hand shaking from the nerves that began to creep through your body, placing it beside your untouched coffee. Your eyes remained locked on some distant point beyond the skyline, body frozen, lungs tight, the word alive echoing over and over in your skull like a prayer you weren’t sure you deserved answered.

Steve’s hand wrapped gently around your wrist.

”Hey,” He said, drawing you out of your trance, “He’s coming back, that’s good news.” You blinked a few times, like you were trying to wake yourself from a fever dream, then you took in a deep breath, letting the ice cold air invade your lungs.

“He’s coming back…” You repeated. The knot that had been sitting in your chest for months, pulsing with guilt and fear, finally snapped loose. The tears came fast and silent, carving hot trails down your cheeks before you even noticed them. You didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound. It was like your body was too stunned to react the right way because of the relief that struck you.

Steve didn’t say anything. He just sat there with you, letting the silence carry the weight of it all. You wiped at your cheeks, sniffled softly, but the tears wouldn’t stop, but for once they weren’t due to sadness. He was alive, and that was all that mattered to you in those moments.

——————

The four hours dragged by like molasses.

You and Steve moved to the landing deck, wanting to be sure the both of you were the first ones that Bucky saw when he came off the jet.

Neither of you said much during the wait. Steve stood tall beside you, arms crossed over his chest, his face unreadable while he watched you pace along the marked up concrete. You were unable to keep still as your nerves twisted tighter and tighter with every passing minute. You were so anxious that it felt like your skin didn’t fit you properly.

The low roar of the jet’s engines thundered overhead, vibrating through your ribcage as it came into view. You stopped pacing. Steve straightened beside you, his arms slowly uncrossing as the both of you watched the aircraft descend onto the landing deck with a mechanical and gentle grace. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, and every second that passed made your chest burn. Your hands trembled as the hydraulics hissed, the screech of metal settling into position echoing through the air. The engine cut out soon after, leaving everyone in total silence.

The ramp lowered with a deep groan, the steel creaking under the weight of anticipation. You didn’t breathe or move a single muscle. You were frozen in your spot, then your eyes caught the silhouette that made its way down, the sun casting down on him in the most glorious reveal.

It was him…It was Bucky.

His hair was longer than before, hanging just above his shoulders, but his face was the same. A little worn, maybe, but not broken. No bruises. No fresh scars. His bright eyes scanned the landing deck, alert and burning with something sharp and searching. His jaw clenched tight, his chest rose and fell heavy beneath a black tactical shirt stretched over a body that looked… Bigger. Somehow. Broader, thicker, even stronger than before. You blinked hard, almost in disbelief. He’d survived two months of god-knows-what, and somehow came back looking like an adonis.

“Bucky.” You breathed, then your legs began to move, and you took off. Your boots barely touched the ground as you sprinted towards him, your heart thundering against your chest like it wanted to break through your ribcage. His head snapped toward the heavy sound of your footsteps, and in those moments your name tumbled from his mouth with such softness that you could barely make out what he was saying.

He quickly moved down the ramp, opening up his arms to meet you halfway, bracing for impact as you collided in a soundless explosion. Your body launched into his, your arms immediately flying around his neck, legs wrapping and connecting behind his waist, catching you effortlessly, stumbling back a few paces before his arms slid around you, tightening like a vice grip.

You buried your face into his neck, and he exhaled like he had been holding his breath for two months. He squeezed you so tightly that it bordered on painful, but at that point you couldn’t care less. You inhaled shakily, drinking in his scent, one of many things you missed from him. He smelled like gunpowder, cedar smoke, and leather, with a hint of mint, you assumed he had a shower on the jet on the way over after he woke up from sedation, because there was no way he was pampering himself during the two months he was missing.

Bucky’s arms cinched tighter around your back, one hand fisting the fabric of your jacket like he didn’t trust the moment to be real unless he physically held something. His metal arm pressed into the curve of your spine, anchoring you to him while his flesh hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, fingers coming gripping your hair gently. His breath stuttered as he inhaled deeply, like the air in his lungs had been stale until now, like you were the only thing he trusted to fill his chest again.

”Jesus Christ, it really is you.” He whispered, disbelief cracking under his words. You pulled back just far enough to see him, bringing your hands up to cup the sides of his face, and it hit you all at once just how much you missed him. He looked up at you, his bright blue irises cascading over your face, taking in every detail, flickering with a raw tenderness that reached into the hollow of your ribs, a smile coming up on his lips.

”I’ve missed you so fucking much,” You said, voice cracking right down the middle of the sentence, “You have no idea what it’s been like without you…I didn’t know if you were dead. I didn’t know if you were alone or cold. God I didn’t even know if you were ever going to come back.” Bucky let out a soft, shuddering sound from his chest, sounding somewhere between a laugh and a breathless ache. While still clutching you tightly, he sank to the ground, sitting on the concrete with you still wrapped up in him.

”I was always going to find my way back to you,” He admitted, a smile drawing up on his lips, “Even if they never came for me…Even if it took fucking years…I would’ve crawled to the ends of the Earth, just to find you.” Your hands ran over his cheeks, the stubble grazing across your fingers with each stroke, your eyes scanning over his.

”I thought about you every day.” He murmured, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closing to breathe you in, “You were in everything. I’d close my eyes just to see you.” His voice was so soft and tender in those moments that you felt your heart squeeze in your chest. Your hands slid from his jaw to the back of his neck, fingers threading into the longer strands of his hair, and your nose brushed his, your heavy breaths hitting his face, your lips hovering over his.

“You don’t have to do that anymore…Never again.” You whispered, seeing the way he smiled up at you in the softest way possible. His eyes tilted down to your lips, like he’d been starving and suddenly found the one thing that could sustain his hunger.

”I��ve been dying to kiss you…Can I-.” You didn’t let him finish his sentence, and not once did you consider the people around you at this point, you were so blinded by happiness that you let yourself do what needed to be done. You just crushed your mouth to his. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t tender. It was the kind of kiss that unmade you, devoured you, dragged you under and remade you from the ashes. Your lips clashed together in a frenzy, months of silence, longing, and suffering crashing into one impossibly desperate moment. His hands were everywhere, your waist, your back, your jaw, pulling you in like he could fuse you to his skin. Your hands clawed into his hair, anchoring yourself to him, needing to feel every inch, needing to know he was really there.

Bucky groaned into your mouth, the sound guttural and raw. You gasped, and he took it as an invitation, deepening the kiss with bruising hunger. His teeth grazed your lower lip and you moaned, chasing him like you’d die if you stopped. It was messy, breathless, too hard and too soft all at once, but it was everything. It was home.

You didn’t even realize the way he was holding you until your lungs screamed for air and you finally broke apart. Your chest heaved, mouth open against his, breathing each other in like you were one another’s oxygen, noses brushing, foreheads resting together as his hands cradled your face like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

A soft clearing of a throat cut through the haze like a needle popping a balloon.

You both turned your heads in unison to see Steve standing a respectful distance away, arms still crossed, with a smirk draped on his lips. He wasn’t hiding the amused glint in his eye, though, or the quiet warmth he had for the both of you.

“I hate to be that guy,” Steve said, eyes flicking between the two of you with that Captain America patience, “But you’re technically sitting in the middle of the landing pad.” Bucky groaned, leaning his forehead back against yours with a sigh that almost sounded like a laugh.

”Thanks for the heads-up, Steve.” He responded, before turning his attention back to you, your gaze locking back onto his, your heart still hammering in your chest as you reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear.

”We should probably get you inside…Let you get your bearings and everything, maybe get you something to eat.” Bucky hummed, but didn’t make a move to unravel himself from you just yet, he just kept you against him for a second longer, before you leaned in one more time.

”We’ll pick up where we left off later tonight.” You whispered, watching as his eyes lit up at your words.

“Really?” He asked, voice low and hopeful. You kissed him once more, leaving it at a peck instead of letting it grow with intensity this time.

“You still have that private exhibit tour booked…With full access, remember?” You murmured, a smirk drawing up on your lips, winking at him a bit. He let out a soft laugh.

”God, you remembered that?” He questioned quietly, his cheeks heating up slightly as his arms unraveled from your waist so you could get up.

”I remember everything, ” You responded, holding your hand out to him, pulling him up to his feet, “And I’m looking forward to the cash in.” He smirked, giving you one last kiss before making your way off the landing pad wrapped up in each other’s warm embrace.

——————-

The team insisted on celebrating.

The moment Bucky was cleared by the med bay and had scarfed down a sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in days, Tony declared it a “welcome-the-hell-back party” and ordered enough food to feed an army. No one wanted to make him sit through anything formal or flashy, so it was takeout boxes, mismatched wine glasses, and laughter echoing through the Tower’s common room like nothing had changed.

You sat beside Bucky on the couch, thigh-to-thigh, the air thick with heat between the both of you. Everyone around you was relaxed, smiling, tossing jokes around like old times–it had been a while since everybody got together like this so the dynamic wasn’t anything short of unnatural.

Even throughout all of this, you were only able to focus on the quiet rhythm of Bucky’s breathing beside you, or the way his arms flexed against yours while he was eating his rice dish from the takeout container, or the way your body shifted every time his gaze lingered on you when you decided to chime in and make a comment of your own during a conversation.

You were trying to play it cool, but it was almost impossible when Bucky was in this state of admiration. You weren’t sure if people were noticing or choosing to ignore the very obvious signs, but they respected the idea of not acknowledging it just for tonight, especially with the context of the situation in general.

There was a low simmering ache of anticipation curling beneath your ribs, it wasn’t urgent, not yet at least. Not when the both of you knew how the night was going to end. The urgency would kick in behind closed doors, and that’s what you couldn’t wait for.

The night stretched on, and the conversations began to wind down. Sam was the first to call it a night, yawning exaggeratedly, and making a quick comment welcoming Bucky back, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving the common room.

Bruce left soon after, offering a small smile and a kind nod, taking a bottle of wine with him ‘for later.’ Natasha followed suit, shooting a lingering look to you, arching a brow at you with a quiet approval, cause she had been paying attention to both you and Bucky the entire night. She didn’t say anything, but the message was clear. Have fun, go make up for the lost time.

Tony and Clint wandered off to the roof together, talking about testing out some of his new glow in the dark arrows before heading to sleep. Then it was just Steve left, lingering near the kitchen island, nursing a drink. He let out a soft sigh.

”Well, I think I’m going to finish this off in my room.” He said, motioning to the glass, the ice clinking in the glass. The both of you glanced at him.

”Oh, okay, goodnight Steve.” You replied, a smile drawing up on your lips. He looked between the two of you one last time, a faint smile coming up on his face.

”Try not to break anything.” He joked, taking another sip of his drink before walking down the hallway, leaving your sight, the door to his quarters clicking shut moments later.

And just like that, it was only the two of you.

Instantly the room felt different, like the walls had closed in around you both, pressing you two together, drawing you closer. You turned to look at Bucky, not surprised he was already watching you, eyes soft but lust filled, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek like he was trying to keep himself in control. The dim lighting of the common room casted small yellowed shadows over the both of you, the silence settling within the space. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you stood up slowly, holding out a hand to him.

His fingers curled around yours with a quiet desire that you’d felt simmering beneath the surface all night. His grip was gentle as he stood up from the couch, letting you lead him out of the common room. You guided him down the hallway, you were the first door on the right, and you wasted no time pushing it open, dragging him in with you.

Before you could close the door yourself, Bucky’s hand shot out, slamming it shut with a force that rattled the frame, your back meeting it soon after. You gasped at how fast he moved, only to have your breath stolen when his mouth crashed against yours with the kind of hunger that only two months of separation could build. He wanted to taste every inch of you, as if he would disappear if he didn’t consume you whole right then and there.

You moaned into the kiss, fingers scrambling to find purchase, one going to his broad, thick shoulder, while the other sank into his hair tugging just enough to earn a guttural growl from him, his chest vibrating against yours. He caged you in against the door with his body, his hips pressing against yours, wanting to feel every part of you.

His vibranium hand slid along your waist, slipping beneath the sweater you were wearing, the coolness of it shocking the heat that saturated your skin. His touch made your knees weaken, a breathy sound escaping you as his mouth pulled off yours, carving out their own path down your jaw, straight to the tender spot just beneath your ear, sucking and biting along the sensitive skin, making his first mark on you, pulling back to watch it bloom a dark red, returning quickly to continue his descent down your throat. The scraping of his stubble along your flesh sent goosebumps along your body, a small gasp escaping you.

”God I missed you so much.” He whispered, his hot breath sticking to your skin, peppering a kiss along the column of your throat, his tongue slipping out to lick your pulse point, before sucking gently.

“Bucky,” You moaned, arching into him, your thighs already trembling, as he slid his knee between your legs, guiding them apart just enough for his body to nestle even closer to you, the friction causing your lashes to flutter. Your fingers curled in his hair as his mouth pressed hot, wet kisses on your neck until he reached the collar of your sweater, feeling the thick bulge in his pants pressing against your hip.

”Let’s move to the bed…” He murmured, lifting you up effortlessly, “You deserve more than the door.” He joked, earning a giggle from you, as he dropped you down onto the duvet that covered your mattress, immediately covering your body with his, settling between your thighs.

”Tell me what you want,” He said, pushing your hair away from your face with his vibranium hand, “Anything. I’ll give it to you.” You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb stroking the stubble there.

”I just want you. I want you so fucking bad.” He nodded, leaning down to kiss you again, his tongue sweeping over yours, before sitting back on his knees to look at you, peeling his shirt off and throwing it to the side in one quick motion. You felt your jaw clench, your eyes roaming over the new scars that muddled his skin, your hands coming up instantly to touch them, the muscles beneath your fingers tensing up. You explored slowly, lovingly, like you were relearning the man you’d ached for every night he was gone. Your palms flattened over his chest, his heart hammering beneath your hands, and when you looked up at him again, Bucky’s expression had softened, his hands reaching to hold your wrists gently.

”Your turn.” He whispered, slowly pushing your hands off his stomach, and reaching for the hem of your sweater. You sat up to help him, pressing a soft kiss to his sternum, before raising your arms above your head, allowing him to pull the fabric off of you, throwing it to the side. You laid back down against the bed, looking up at him, watching as his eyes roamed over you like he hadn’t seen your body in years. His vibranium hand pressed to the curve of your waist, the cool temperature sending a shiver through your spine, while the other reached up to cup the underside of your breast through the soft, thin material of your bra.

”Cream…” He breathed, dragging his thumb over the trim that lined the cup “Of course you’d wear something soft and pretty like this.” He commented, feeling your nipple harden beneath his palm. You smirked at his comment, biting your lip as your cheeks heated up even more.

”Take it off for me.” He instructed softly, tracing small patterns along your waist with the tips of his cool vibranium fingers, watching you lean up and reach behind yourself, unclasping the bra slowly. You let the straps slip from your shoulders, before gently letting the cups fall away, revealing your breasts to him.

The second your bra hit the floor, Bucky’s hands were all over you, tracing over the scar that went between your chest, like it was his version of the sign of the cross, it was his way of showing you he wanted to let you in. His warm hand slipped to the side to cup one breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak of your nipple, as his vibranium hand mapped over the other one, spanning over the curve of it, squeezing gently.

”Jesus Christ…You’re so fucking perfect.” He whispered, your back arching into his hands instinctively, your eyes staying on his as he dipped his head down, closing his mouth around your nipple, sucking slow and deep, his tongue swirling and pressing against it with just enough pressure that it made your toes curl. Your fingers tangled into his hair instantly, pulling him closer to you, feeling the bulge in his pants grinding against your already soaking core.

“Bucky…” Was all that fell from your mouth, as he groaned against your skin, switching to the other breast, licking a long, warm stripe over the soft flesh, flicking his tongue across your nipple, then drawing it between his lips, giving it a gentle bite.

“You make the sweetest sounds.” He mumbled, his voice muffled by your breast. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to alternate between breasts, blowing against the saliva that coated the skin so that he could overwhelm the sensations that crashed over you.

“You like when I touch you like this, huh?” You nodded quickly, breath stuttering with each little flick of his tongue.

”Yes…God yes, please d-don’t stop.” His mouth curled into a grin against your chest, as he began his descent down your body, licking down the scar, trailing over to your ribs, trying his best not to miss any skin that was exposed to him, wanting to paint the most worshipful path down your body.

”I won’t stop until you tell me to.” He whispered, kissing the soft swell of your stomach, his tongue dragging down past your navel, his stubble scratching against your skin as he stopped right above the waistband of your pants. You were already panting, your hips raising off the mattress ever so slightly, squirming beneath him, silently pleading for him to continue. Bucky looked up at you through his dark lashes.

”Can I take these off?” He asked, his fingers already curling under the waistband. You nodded instantly.

”Yes…Please.” You said breathlessly. He smiled up at you, tugging the fabric down slowly, dragging your panties along with them in one fluid motion, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He threw everything to the side, watching as your legs parted for him, his breath catching in his throat at the sight.

”Fuck…Y/N.” Was all he could manage to get out, as his gaze locked onto your soaked, glistening folds, “You’re already so fucking wet, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.” He said, his hands sliding up your thighs, your body reacting to the lovely contrast they both provided, while he leaned down to press an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your knee, moving higher with each one. He kissed all the way up until his mouth was just hovering over where you needed him the most, his hot breath causing your core to flutter around nothing.

Then he stepped back. You leaned up onto your elbows, confused at what he was doing, until he curled his arms under your knees and pulled you down the bed. You gasped loudly at the quick movement, feeling your thighs hanging off the mattress, while your ass was just teetering on the very edge. A small smile came up on his lips as he dropped to his knees in front of you, kneeling between your legs, his hands spreading you open gently.

”Look at you,” He whispered, his eyes drinking you in, “You’re dripping for me.” He kissed the inside of your thigh, biting down on the soft flesh to elicit a gasp from you, before leaning forward, licking you in one long, slow, indulgent stroke, lapping up the juices that already coated your folds. You let out a sharp gasp, your hips jerking slightly, as Bucky’s strong, muscular arms wrapped around your thighs, locking you in place as he devoured you.

His tongue circled your clit slowly, then flicked it with just enough pressure to make your thighs clench around his neck. He moaned into you, the vibration causing you to tremble beneath him.

“Fuck.” He murmured, “You taste so fucking good…” He added, moving back in to take your clit between his lips, sucking gently as his tongue began to trace lazy circles against it, his arms holding you open to him, rendering you completely helpless under his mouth. Your hips jerked against his face, but that only made him hold you tighter.

“You’re so fucking soft.” He praised, as your fingers reached down, threading into his thick hair, gripping tightly when he flattened his tongue against you, licking slow, unrelenting strokes over your clit, moaning into you, the vibration making your thighs close around his head.

You were panting now, completely exposed and at his mercy, and the way he looked up at you through his lashes while his tongue moved in the slow rhythm he found nearly broke you.

”I missed this so fucking much,” He whispered, kissing your clit softly “Missed the way you taste, the way you fall apart for me…God, I fucking just missed you.” He added, licking you again–deeper now, tongue sliding between your folds, pushing into your entrance briefly before he slipped a finger into you. Your breath hitched, as one of your hands slid out from his mane of hair, grabbing onto his vibranium arm.

”So fucking warm.” He groaned, adding a second finger, curling them inside you slowly, pressing against that little spot that made your legs buckle.

”Fuck Bucky, right there.” You moaned.

“I know sweetheart…Let me feel you hmm?” He rasped, his tongue returning to your clit, flicking in soft wet stroke, perfectly in rhythm with the way he fucked his fingers into you. You closed your eyes tightly, pushing his face into you even more, grinding up into his mouth as you started to lose control.

”Don’t stop, oh my god…Please don’t stop.” You begged, feeling him shake his head, not breaking his rhythm.

”I won’t.” He replied, voice thick with lust, as he shifted slightly, grabbing onto your hand, intertwining your fingers, your hips continuing to grind desperately against his face, seeking more.

”Bucky.” You sobbed, your voice totally wrecked between gasps.

“I know baby…I know.” His tongue returned to that devastating rhythm–press, flick, suck– perfectly in time with his fingers, which began to pick up speed, curling in just the right spot.

Everything inside you tightened, winding and coiling until everything snapped, as the pleasure bloomed so deep it hurt. Your thighs pressed around his head, your back arching off the bed, feeling your breath catching in your throat.

You came with a sharp, desperate cry, your body convulsing, clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave. Your hand squeezed his, the other fisting into his hair, overwhelmed by the sheer force of it.

Bucky didn’t stop though, he moaned into you like your climax was his own, lapping up every single drop you gave him, dragging his tongue softly over your clit while you whimpered through the aftershocks.

“You’re so fuckinng beautiful when you come.” He whispered, finally lifting his head just enough to breathe. You glanced down at him, seeing how utterly wrecked he looked, his chin slick, lips glistening with your arousal, and his eyes heavy with need. He kissed the inside of your thigh, grounding you as you slowly came down from your high, his hand still holding onto yours tightly.

“Incredible.” He breathed, nipping at the sensitive flesh on the side of your knee, kissing the little mark gently, still looking up at you, his pupils blown wide, and shimmering. You let out a soft, shaky sigh, as your fingers drifted through his hair, combing the strands back away from his face, a small content hum escaping his throat, his lips pulling off your skin, another mark blooming along the flesh.

”Need me to get you some water before we continue?” He asked, slowly removing his fingers from you, shyly licking your arousal off of them, taking time with each one. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the sight, unraveling your hand from his hair.

”I think that would be a good idea.” Bucky smiled, placing one more kiss on the inside of your thigh, before standing up from his kneeling position, adjusting himself slightly to hide his erection, and wiping off his chin, attempting to conceal the evidence of what was happening inside the room.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move.” He joked, leaning over to give you a quick peck, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

”Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” He smirked at your comment, pulling away quickly, sneaking out of the bedroom, leaving you completely alone. Your skin was humming where he kissed you, every inch of your body vibrating with the aftershocks that traveled through you. Slowly, you raised from the bed, shifting yourself up the mattress to slip under the covers, a low ache blooming between your thighs where he had worked you open so perfectly, where he had devoured your soul, still feeling the wet imprints of his mouth where he had kissed along your skin. You exhale shakily, settling against the pillow, waiting quietly in anticipation for the next moment you had him next to you.

The door creaked open softly, as Bucky slipped into the room again with two glasses of water in his hands. His hair stood up in all directions, cheeks still flushed a deep red, with a grin plastered on his lips noticing how plump they were from overworking you. He shuffled towards the bed, holding out the glass of water to you.

”Thanks,” You said, taking it from him, your heart flipping at the gesture, his fingers brushing against yours, giving you a nod, before stepping around to his side of the bed, avoiding the pile of clothes on the floor. He set his own glass down on the nightstand, turning to the side so the thick planes of his back were exposed to you, watching as he looked around your room, taking in all the little details that were plastered along the walls and the tops of your dressers. You took a sip of your water, feeling the coolness invade your chest, bringing you a temporary relief from the heat that burned through your flesh.

He continued to look around your room, staring at a small framed photo of you and Nat.

“That was my first mission back after I was released from the hospital.” You explained, putting the glass down on the bedside table.

”You look so different.” He responded, turning back to you, seeing you smirking.

”Well…People do change.” He let out a soft laugh, moving towards the top of the bed, slipping the duvet down the mattress, the cool air kissing up your legs, before slowly pushing the fabric of his pants down his thick, muscular thighs, stepping out of them one leg at a time. You felt your jaw tense, your eyes roaming over him with nothing but hunger. He stood in nothing but his black boxer briefs, the smooth fabric pulled tight across his hips, and there was no hiding the thick outline of his erection pressing against it, begging to be released from its confines. You felt your thighs clench together, just drinking him in like he was your choice of alcohol. His body looked like it had been carved from marble, and it was evident that he really was working out during the time he was away from you just by the difference in the way his skin stretched along the expanse of muscle.

Bucky blushed beneath your gaze as he slipped under the covers, the mattress creaking with the weight of him pressing down on it, as he turned onto his side to face you. For a moment, neither of you moved, you just absorbed each other's heat, eyes trailing over each other.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, reaching up to brush his fingers down your cheek, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip. You bit the tip gently, before taking his wrist into your hand, guiding down to rest on your bare hip, as you shifted closer to him, your leg instinctively lifting to curl over his waist, drawing your slick heat against the hard outline of his erection, wetting the fabric of his briefs.

“Jesus…You’re going to ruin me.” He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. You smiled softly, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, letting your fingertips roam over a scar that bisected his collarbone.

”Good, then we’ll be even.” He laughed under his breath, closing the space between you, kissing you with all the control he had left in his body. His lips moved against yours like he wanted to savor all of it, even though he knew he was going to have all the time in the world to do this a thousand times over.

His hand slid up from your hip, gliding along your ribs, feeling the indents of your scars, tracing them until he reached your throat, curling his hand around it. He didn’t squeeze, but the possessiveness of the gesture alone made your breath stutter, his palm resting flat against the skin as his thumb brushed over your pulse point, feeling it accelerating beneath his touch with each gentle stroke. He pulled away from the kiss, his shaky breath sticking against your wet lips, as his eyes locked onto yours with a heat so tender it made your chest ache.

”You’re mine…” He whispered, like a promise and prayer wrapped up into one statement, “I’m never going to leave you again��Not like I did in the alley.” You swallowed, your throat bobbing beneath his hand, as you reached up to hold his wrist.

”Even if you do…You’ll always find your way back…” You responded, breathless, feeling him gently squeeze your neck, surging forward to kiss you again, rolling his hips against you, the friction of the movements driving you mad in an instant, your arousal soaking into his briefs. You could feel his lips turning up against yours, satisfied with how wet you were still, so prepared. He pulled back, peppering kisses along your jaw.

”Bucky, please…Please I need you.” You whimpered, your hips arching up to meet the slow grind of his, writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulder.

”I’ll give you everything you need.” He replied, feeling the sharp sting kissing his skin as you scratched down his back, hissing at the burn.

”Fuck,” He breathed, his hips stalling for a moment, looking down at you, “You’re gonna leave so many marks on me.” You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

”That’s the idea.” He let out a small laugh.

”Want me to carry around the evidence of our night? You think that’s hot?” You nodded.

”Just marking my territory.” Another laugh came out of him, his chest vibrating against yours.

“Touché I guess.” He responded, his lips brushing over yours again, before shifting slightly, creating a little space between the both of you so he could reach down with his free hand to push his briefs off himself, just enough to let his cock out from the dampened fabric, letting the weight of it settle against your soaked folds.

He didn’t move at first, staying still with his forehead pressed to yours, breathing heavily, the both of you exchanging air, like he knew the moment he started moving he would begin to unravel. His lips ghosted over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring every crevice as you reached down, your fingers curling around the base of him, eliciting a groan that vibrated through your chest.

”Jesus Christ.” He rapsed, pulling away from your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as you guided him through your arousal, teasing the tip along your entrance, “I can tell I’m not going to last.” He commented, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of your warmth pressing against the head of his erection, his thumb brushing over your pulse point again.

“I don’t even care…I just want to feel you inside me.” Those words alone almost made him cum right then and there, the desperation growing between the both of you, the craving of just wanting to be connected again. He didn’t need to waste anymore time.

His body trembled against yours as he angled his hips, nudging at your entrance, before slowly pushing in, feeling you stretching around him, your walls welcoming him back with the warmth that he missed. Your mouth fell open, gasping, your back arching off the mattress as he bottomed out in you, his hips meeting yours with a shuddering breath, stilling inside you.

”Fuck Y/N…You feel like home.” He moaned, kissing along your face, your eyes brimming with tears from the sheer closeness, from how right everything felt in those moments. You reached up blindly, needing to touch him, desperately attempting to anchor yourself. He caught your wrist with his vibranium hand, knowing exactly what you needed, as he threaded his fingers through yours, pinning the intertwined hands beside your head, using this as an opportunity to begin to move.

Each thrust was deliberate, angled perfectly within you so he could get as deep as possible, so he wouldn’t miss feeling a single spot. You could feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, his body molding to yours like there had never been space between you at all. His mouth stayed near yours, breathing you in, kissing you between moans, between whimpers, between the breathless begging. You were completely surrounded by him; his scent, his warmth, his breath panting against your lips. His hand stayed firm around your throat, never squeezing, just holding, just claiming.

“Look at me,” Bucky whispered, his hair tickling your face, voice cracking on the edge of a moan, “Need…Need to see you.” You opened your eyes slowly meeting the desperate irises that you had grown to love, seeing the completely wrecked look painted across all his features. His brows were furrowed, lips parted and swollen from crashing them against yours, and his skin was flushed red, with a sheen film of sweat. There was no disguising the desperation in his expression, as it mirrored your own, his hips bucking against you a little harder, still keeping his pace, dragging himself so deep that you whimpered his name like a prayer.

”Bucky…” You gasped, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes, “I missed you so fucking much.” You said, unable to stop yourself from reminding him how much you wanted him there with you for the past two months, your nails dragging along the muscles of his back with your free hand.

”I know Y/N…I dreamed of you every night…I’m…Fuck I’m so happy I’m back with you,” He breathed, his voice thick with emotion, his forehead pressing to yours again, lips trembling as he kissed the corner of your mouth, moaning when your walls clenched around him. He closed his eyes tightly, before leaning forward again to claim your lips with his.

The kiss wasn’t pretty, it was messy, soaking in need, with teeth clacking, and mouths parted wide, breaths intermingling together. You gasped into him as he rolled his hips again, and his own moan spilled into your mouth, long and low and unraveling. You could feel him shaking above you, his whole body trembling from the effort of keeping himself at the slow pace he was going, wanting to last, to savor you, to make up for every second he lost.

Your nails dragged hard along his back again, leaving a fresh trail of angry red lines across his skin, eliciting a groan as he pulled away from your lips.

”Fuck…” He choked, hips stuttering just slightly, chest heaving against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him in even closer, impossibly close, clinging to him, his vibranium hand squeezing yours.

”I need all of you.” He nibbled softly on your jaw before kissing it, moving faster now, thrusting deep with each snap of his hip with a pace that nearly made you cry, his thumb pressing into your pulse with just a little bit of pressure, drawing out a soft gasp from you, watching your face, the way it contorted, your mouth dropping open to take in short breaths of air, nails still marking his back.

“Jesus…You’re my weakness.” The words fell out of his mouth, and you could feel your eyes shoot open, tears pooling in the corners, already blurring your vision, his pace slowing so he didn’t overwhelm you.

”Y-You really were in there?” He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss you gently, his hand leaving your throat to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye, wiping away a stray tear.

“You tethered me to him…Even when he had taken over, and I was pushed into the dark…I could still hear your voice and feel you when you touched his chest.” He explained, his confession spilling into the space between your bodies while he rolled his hips against yours again, kissing away the salty tears that came down your cheeks, “Are you okay?” You nodded immediately.

”I’m just…I’m just relieved I wasn’t wrong.” He laughed a bit.

”Of course that’s what you are concerned about.” He murmured, kissing the side of your neck, as his hand gave yours a light squeeze before letting go, his other arm curling around your waist to angle you better against him, so the head of his erection grazed over the spot that made you writhe beneath him.

“Oh my fucking god Bucky.” You gasped, melting into another moan, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, your hips now rocking into his, rolling against his thrusts, meeting his hips, chasing your release with reckless abandon.

”I’ve got you…Always going to have you.” He whispered. Your walls clenching around him, a moan falling from his lips, losing himself to the feeling of you pulling him in. Then suddenly, his arms locked around your back, lifting you as he sat up, bringing you chest to chest with him, his cock still buried deep inside of you. You gasped at the new position, your thighs tightening around him, your bodies pressed so close it felt like your hearts were beating in tandem with one another. His mouth instantly peppering wet kisses along the tops of your breasts, your nails digging into his shoulders again at the sensation of his cock pressing against your cervix.

“Holy fuck,” You whimpered, clinging to him, as he thrusted up into you, hitting so deep that you nearly sobbed in ecstasy. The wet sound of your bodies moving together filled the air between the moans, the slick, obscene slap of skin against skin only adding to the fire burning behind your ribs. Your arms tightened around his neck, rocked against him, your hips meeting the frantic thrusts of his, your bodies colliding in that perfect mess of desperation and worship, your walls pulsing around him.

“I’m not gonna last.” He groaned, his voice totally wrecked, tracing up to your collarbone with his lips.

”Please don’t stop…” You gasped, grinding down against him harder, chasing every ounce of friction, “I need you to cum in me…I need all of it.” The begging was the thing that got him instantly. His head fell back with a strangled moan, hips bucking up wildly as he lost himself to the way your walls gripped him, the heat and slickness of you dragging him straight over the edge. You felt him twitch deep inside just a heartbeat before he cried out your name, and spilled into you with a moan that shook through every inch of his body.

The warmth of it hit you fast, thick and hot, coating your insides with every desperate pulse of his release. You gasped, your walls fluttering around him, still clenching as your own orgasm chased his, sending tremors through your limbs. The pressure built so sharp and blinding that you buried your face into his neck, crying out, and biting down, your body locking against his as the world tilted on its axis.

Bucky held you through it, his arms wrapped completely around you, one hand splaying on the small of your back while the other cradled your head. He didn’t stop pressing kisses to your skin even as both of you slumped forward, his cock still seated inside you, twitching with aftershocks, his spend already beginning to leak from your folds and drip down his length.

You both stayed still for a long time, panting, tangled up, sweat-slicked and trembling in each other’s arms.

“Wow.” You whispered into his neck, kissing against the bite mark you left on the tender flesh, your heartbeat finally steadying.

“That was…Amazing.” He murmured, his voice still rough from the aftermath of everything you just did. You smiled lazily at his words, your fingers tracing over the raised scratch marks that you had left on his back.

“We’re gonna be so sore tomorrow.” He let out a soft laugh at your comment, pulling back so he could press his forehead to yours.

”Definitely worth the soreness I think.” He replied, earning a nod of agreement from you. The both of you stayed wrapped around each other, too content to move, his hand tracing slow circles against your lower back.

Eventually, he shifted, pulling out slowly, a gasp escaping your throat from the unexpected emptiness you felt, as he laid you down on the mattress. Bucky’s hand lingered on your thigh for a moment, his thumb stroking the soft skin as he stared down at the mess between your legs–his release trickling from your pulsing core.

”I’ll be right back.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. You gave him a small hum in response, too blissed out to form words, your body still tingling from your orgasm, the cool air brushing over your sweat-slicked skin. The mattress shifted as Bucky padded over to the en suite bathroom, turning the sink on. You listened closely, hearing the cabinet door creaking open, before closing soon after, then the water closed, hearing him return to you, crawling onto the bed beside you with a small wet towel.

”Let’s get you cleaned up hm?” You nodded gently, shifting just enough to let him ease your legs apart again, his large hand cradling the outside of your thigh with a tenderness that made your throat tighten. The towel was warm, damp and soft, and he moved so slowly–wiping the insides of your thighs, cleaning the sticky mess that had begun to cool against your skin. You watched him as he worked, his brows slightly furrowed, lips parted in quiet concentration. There was something utterly domestic about the moment, Bucky, post-orgasm, still flushed and damp, eyes gentle and full of something you could only describe as tenderness, carefully cleaning the mess he left behind.

“You okay?” He asked, glancing up at you with a little wrinkle in his brow, his hair falling in front of his face. You reached for him, brushing the damp strands off of his forehead with trembling fingers, your touch lingering on his temple before sliding down to cup his stubbly cheek.

”I’m more than okay.” You replied, a smile appearing on your lips, as he brought his free hand up to hold onto your wrist, turning his head to kiss your palm.

”Just making sure.” He breathed, giving you one last gentle swipe with the towel before double-checking for anything he might’ve missed.

Satisfied with his work, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hip, before shifting off the bed to put the towel into the appropriate basket. You let out a small sigh, turning onto your side, pulling the covers up to your neck. Bucky returned quietly, the soft padding of his bare feet barely audible against the floor. The room had settled into that perfect kind of silence, heavy with the warm afterglow and the calm that only came after something deeply intimate. You felt the mattress dip behind you as he climbed back into bed, his arm sliding around your waist instantly, pulling your back against his chest.

You let out a small, content sigh, your hand finding his forearm beneath the covers, bringing it up so you could hold it in front of you. His nose nudged against your ear, his hot breath sticking to your neck.

”I’m so grateful for you.” He whispered, kissing your shoulder gently, as his vibranium arm slid under your pillow, wrapping across your chest to pull you into him even more, so he could slot himself in the crook of your neck. Your body melted into his, your eyes fluttering shut as you traced your hand up his forearm.

”I’m grateful for you too, Bucky.” You replied, feeling his chest vibrate against your back as he hummed softly.

“Still can’t believe I’m here.” He said quietly, nuzzling his chin into your neck.

”You’re here, and you’re not going anywhere.” You responded sleepily.

”Not a fucking chance.” He shot back, laughing lightly against your skin. There was a pause between the both of you, one of those long cozy silences where nothing else had to be said. You felt safe for the first time since you two were separated, and your body was exhausted yet full of warmth, giving into the sleepiness that began to catch up to you from the countless nights you laid awake waiting for good news.

“Do you need to sleep on the floor?” You asked out of nowhere, your voice light and curious, as your fingers ran over the vibranium of his arm, right where it rested over your chest. Bucky snorted behind you.

”I think I’ll be okay as long as I’m beside you.” He grumbled, pressing into you more.

”You sure? I might snore…You might regret this decision really quickly.” You joked, feeling him shift behind you, leaning forward so he could see the smile that was already plastered on your face.

”First off…You never snore, and second…If you did, I’d take every snore, every blanket tug, and every toss and turn with pride…Just to fall asleep next to you like this.” You felt your cheeks heat up.

”You’re getting all poetic on me, Bucky.” He placed a gentle kiss on your warm cheek.

”Well, I guess you bring that out of me.” He commented, his fingers drawing absent circles over your skin, “Do you want me to turn the TV on for you, since we’re talking about our sleep traumas.” You shook your head.

”No, I think I’ll be okay…I’ve got a super soldier with a vibranium arm protecting me.” Bucky couldn’t help but let out a laugh at your response, the warmth of his breath sticking to your neck.

“Yeah, you’re right about that…Nobody would be getting through me.” He responded, pressing another kiss to your shoulder before letting the room slip into a quiet hush. Your breath evened out in time with his, tangled under the blankets, skin pressed to skin, surrounded by warmth and the soft scent of each other.

And as the last flickers of consciousness slipped away, you felt him kiss your hair one last time, a barely-there brush of his lips, promising you tomorrow, and the rest of his days.

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