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shrenvents · 5 months

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Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

That I’m a mutant…

That was what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention sweets?” Logan questions softly. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again. “I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is further strained when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin, from that sentence alone.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coaxing his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You truly have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're really asking for it princess."

Part two

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heytheredelulu · 6 months

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Little Bookworm 18+

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink, dubcon kink (as long as Bucky can keep a straight face), tummy bulge, language, a good ole coochie slap (once), cum play, a little fluff, some aftercare

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Inspired by my IRL husband’s reaction to my smutty reads.

Note: I don’t own any characters or works referenced in this oneshot and shout out to H.D. Carlton for creating Zade Meadows and giving us the house of mirrors chapter that’s been living rent free in both me and @lilacka’s head for over a year.

Bucky absolutely loved to watch you read.

The subtle way your expressions changed as your eyes would glide across the pages made his heart swell with admiration.

He found himself entranced with your concentration, your eyebrows knitting together in thought, your lips quirking up into a smile and even the soft laughter that would sometimes escape you as you delved deep into the world you held in your hands.

He was always more than happy to accompany you to the bookstore, leaning against the shelves and observing you as you thumbed through new titles, stacking your choices in his strong arms before darting down the next aisle to browse further.

He looked forward to the evenings where he could lay his head comfortably in your lap, his arm draped across your thighs as you worked your fingers lazily through his hair while you read quietly above him.

Tonight he lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head, listening to the gentle sound of the shower from the bathroom as you bathed when his gaze fell on your most recent read on the nightstand. The cover was dark with a skull and roses, something about a ‘Haunting’ and an absurd amount of sticky notes jutted out from the pages. His curiosity overtook him and he sat up, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He thumbed through it carefully before letting it fall open to one of the tagged pages, his eyes scanning the text and widening slightly at the content.

He flipped to another tab, quickly reading through the passage, his breath quickening as he took in the words.

“If I catch you, I fuck you.”

Jesus Christ.

The bathroom door creaked open and he slowly lifted his gaze up to you.

Your damp body wrapped in a towel with your wet hair against your neck and shoulders did absolutely nothing to combat the heat that was already rising within him at what he’d just read.

Your eyes connect for a beat before you glance down to notice the book in his hand, opened to one of your tagged pages.

It was hard to discern if the flush across your cheeks was remnant of the heat of the shower or from the slight embarrassment of feeling caught by your boyfriend discovering the absolute filth you’d been reading.

He raises a brow at you, lifting the book and tapping on the open passage.

“If I catch you, I fuck you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “Really?”

You huff and roll your eyes, stepping forward and reaching to snatch the book from his hands but he’s quicker, snapping it shut and holding it just out of your reach.

“No, no. We’re gonna talk about this, doll.” He says, his lips curling into a smirk. “This is what you’ve been reading?”

You shift from foot to foot.

“Sometimes.” You reply with a weak shrug.

He turns the book over in his hands again and idly runs his palm back and forth against all the flags poking out from between the pages. “And do you.. like this stuff?” He asks, not looking up. “Does it turn you on?”

You swallow hard and nod despite the fact he’s not looking at you.

“Sometimes.” You repeat quietly.

“Huh.”

He purses his lips and nods thoughtfully, standing up and tossing the book onto the bed. “I guess you oughta run then.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hair line.

Did he just?

Is he going to?

“W-what?” You stutter out, taking a small step back as he closes in on you.

He tsks and reaches out, brushing your wet hair back off your shoulder with two fingers. “You heard me, baby.”

You open your mouth to reply but the words are lost the moment he seizes the edge of your towel in his large hand.

Your eyes connect for a brief moment before he yanks the towel free of your body and discards it on the ground, leaving you exposed, confused and incredibly aroused.

His hand settles on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple and sending a rush of desire straight to your core. He dips his head to nuzzle his forehead against your temple, his tongue flicking against your earlobe.

“You should probably run now.” He warns in a whisper, taking a step back to give you space for a head start.

You stare wide eyed in disbelief, your head barely able to wrap around what was happening.

“Five.” He says in a threatening tone, bringing his hand down to palm his growing erection under his sweatpants.

You’re frozen to the spot.

There’s no fucking way he’s about to do this.

“Four.”

Okay, maybe he is.

You take off at a run, reaching the bedroom door and flinging it open with him hot on your tail.

Your bare feet pound against the hardwood floor and you rush down the hall towards the staircase, making it only two steps down before his strong arm catches you around the waist and picks you up effortlessly.

You wiggle against his hold, kicking your feet and thrashing.

“You’re not very fast, you know.” He teases, tightening his grip on you, his cock straining against his sweatpants and pressing into your backside.

He carries you back into the bedroom, his arm locked around you in a vice grip and tosses you onto the bed as if you were weightless. He tugs his sweatpants down and kicks them off, his cock bobbing with every step as he stalks towards you.

He braces his palms on the bed, preparing to climb up and pin you but you scramble backwards off the bed and take off again. He pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what-?” he straightens up and turns, watching as you sprint across the room and he frowns, realizing you weren’t going to let him catch you that easily.

“Damnit.” He grumbles, launching himself up over the bed.

He chases you with heavy footsteps towards the bathroom and you rush to shut the door but his hand catches it and forces it open, leaving you completely cornered with nowhere else to turn. “Shit.” You breathe out, looking around for a possible way out. He laughs, a cute and genuine laugh that is just so Bucky, completely betraying the role he was attempting to play.

You cross your arms over your bare breasts and frown. “I’m sorry.” He says, shaking his head. “I- just.. why did you run into the bathroom?” He asks, gesturing around the small room with amusement. “I don’t know!” You huff, your lips pressing into a pout. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you definitely weren’t.” He agrees, swinging his foot back to kick the door shut behind him. “Guess you’re trapped, huh?”

You nod, letting your arms fall away from your breasts. “I guess I am.” You breathe out, your body thrumming with a mix of excitement and desire as your eyes trail down his toned body to land on his fully erect cock. He’s on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and tossing you to the ground.

You fall hard on your hands and knees onto the plush bath mat, barely able to steady yourself on all fours before he’s on your back, arm hooked around your waist and sinking his cock into your wet, throbbing cunt. You arch back into him, fingers digging into the bath mat and a choked gasp catches in your throat as he pulls you flush to his pelvis, burying himself to the hilt. He snakes his free hand up your abdomen towards your chest, a trail of goosebumps following in his wake, dipping his forehead down to rest against the back of your shoulder. He palms your breast roughly, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Bucky..” You whisper, your head falling back.

His forearm tightens around your waist and he releases your nipple with a gentle tug, sliding his hand up to curl around your throat. You moan and wiggle your hips, desperate for him to move, but he holds you still, lifting you up with him as he leans back on his heels.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” He whispers, unhooking his arm from your waist and resting his large hand over the slight bulge in your abdomen. “That’s my cock.” He murmurs, squeezing your throat gently before grasping your jaw and tilting your chin down to look at how he’s stretching you. You whimper and he moves your hand to press down on the bulge of his cock in your belly. “And this is my pussy.” He growls, delivering a slap to your aching clit before he draws his hips back and begins to thrust himself up into you at a steady pace.

A string of soft curses falls from your lips and your head drops back against the crook of his neck, your hand leaving your abdomen and reaching backwards to fist in his hair. “I didn’t realize you were such a freak, baby.” He whispers, his hand tightening around your throat. “I shoulda thumbed through one of your little books sooner.”

His free hand kneads at the flesh of your thigh and he groans, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks up into you. “I- I-“ You stutter, unable to think straight as your head grows dizzy with pleasure. “Oh no, am I fuckin’ my baby stupid?” He asks with a grin, bringing two fingers to tease at your bottom lip. You open on instinct and he slips them into your mouth, letting out a shaky breath as you suck and swirl your tongue around the digits.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pressing his slick fingers to your clit. You gasp, your fingers curling around his wrist as he strokes your sensitive bud, pulling you closer towards your impending orgasm.

“You gonna come, little bird?” He whispers, trying to reference your book and quickening his fingers against your clit. “It’s ‘little mouse’.” You correct, your lips quirking up into a smirk at his admirable attempt. “Whatever.” He hisses, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure through your body. You choke out a strangled cry as you come, your legs trembling and back arching against him as your cunt clenches around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grunts, shoving you forward to the floor and falling to his knees. You scramble forward, his cock slipping from your dripping hole as you try to steady yourself in the dizzying wake of your orgasm.

“Oh no, no you don’t.” He growls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back towards him. You lose your balance and fall flat, your breasts smashed against the cold tile as he presses his weight down on you, running his cock back and forth along your folds before thrusting back into you. “T-too much!” You whine, squirming underneath him.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunts, knowing damn well you never would. He hooks his forearm under your waist again and angles your hips upward, taking you deeper than you even thought possible.

Choked sobs of euphoria escape your throat as your cheek rests against the floor, dragging back and forth across the tile from the force at which he’s fucking into you. Your limp body shakes uncontrollably as your pussy spasms and waves of ecstacy crash over you faster than you can count them. Your orgasms explode through you like a string of firecrackers as you curse and mumble incoherently.

He pulls out abruptly, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back, moving to straddle your chest while he frantically fucks his fist. He comes with a shout, gasping as he paints your face with ropes of hot, sticky cum. “Fuck.” He pants, looking down at you in admiration as he brushes his thumb along your cheek, gathering up his seed.

He pinches your flushed, sticky cheeks together with his free hand. “Open.” He says softly, slipping his thumb into your mouth when you do. You suckle his thumb, greedily cleaning it with a swirl of your tongue, looking up at him through half lidded eyes. He sighs contentedly before moving off you and rising to stand, reaching into the shower to turn on the water.

“And I had just showered.” You mumble as you take the hand he offers you and pull yourself up on wobbly knees. “Don’t you dare bitch about the water bill when it comes.” You tease.

He chuckles softly and pulls you into him, holding you against his chest with one strong arm while the other reaches out to test the temperature of the water. “I won’t.” He says, stepping in first and gently helping you in after him. He wraps his arms lovingly around you and rests his chin atop your head as the warm water cascades over you both.

“Let’s clean you up, doll. It’s late and we have plans in the morning.” He says quietly, his eyes slipping closed as his hand runs idly up and down your back. You lean back and look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have plans tomorrow.”

His eyes flutter open and he grins. “The hell we don’t.” He replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle and squeezing the contents into the palm of his hand. You open your mouth to protest when he doesn’t answer your question but he simply twirls a finger, gesturing for you to turn around.

You sigh, turning your back to him and he begins to lather the shampoo in your hair, gently massaging your scalp with his fingers. “So what’re these plans?” You ask quietly after a long moment of silently enjoying his hands tenderly working through your locks. He leans forward, his broad, wet chest pressing against your back and brings his mouth to hover beside your ear.

His breath sends a shiver down your spine as he lets out a low, breathy laugh and whispers, “I’m taking you to buy more books.”

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #avengers smut #marvel smut #smutty one shot #smutty fanfiction

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buckyalpine · 6 months

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Bucky's baby girl who loves his metal arm.

She runs hot just like her daddy, the serum also coursing through her keeping her extra warm. She's all fussy until Bucky cradles her in his left arm and the content sigh she lets out feeling his cool metal against her warm, chubby cheek is unmatched.

It's also perfect when she starts teething. No other toys do it like daddy's thumb. She's happily tucked in the crook of his arm, two tiny hands holding onto his much larger one so she can get a proper grip and chew on his fingers. The coldness soothes her gums.

Bucky's babygirl who only falls asleep when he holds her. It's not that she doesn't fall asleep with her mommy, but she's clearly picked up this habit directly from you. Her daddy's chest is her favourite place to be and you can't complain because you feel the exact same way. There's nothing cuter than her little gummy smile while sleeping contently on daddy's chest, his metal fingers rubbing her back in soothing circles. She practically gets lost in him when he holds her, such a tiny bundle wrapped up around metal and muscle. Of course he gives you the exact same treatment after she's around asleep in her crib and you're also softly snoring moments later.

(Just a rogue thought but imagine Bucky doesn't get the playful pout you make whenever his daughter whines to cuddle up with him, taking away from his snuggle time from you. He so very clearly has time for you both. Then you have a son. The places have been switched as he watches his babyboy coo and giggle in your arms between nursing and Bucky isn't jealous of his own son but he 100% ready for his turn to be in your lap with your boobs in his face. When his son only sleeps on mommy's warm chest with all the skin to skin contact, he's side eyeing you with his shirt off, ready for cuddles immediately after. He's a menace and it's the cutest thing)

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sl-newsie · 8 months

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Normal people: look up an actor to see what other shows they've been in

Me: sees a hot character and immediately researches for fanfiction about them

It's an instinct now.

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tuiccim · 16 days

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We're Gonna Burn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

“What the hell was that, Barnes?” You practically yell as you push open the front door of the safe house you’d been directed to.

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like it. God, the smell!” He shakes his head.

“It’s burned into my nostrils. All I can smell is that sweet flower smell. You’ve never seen that pink powder?” You throw your things to the floor, looking around the small, remote house.

“No, I’d tell you if I did, damnit! Why do you keep asking?” Bucky growls.

“You’re not the most forthcoming person! Shit, I think you’ve spoken more in the last two minutes than in the three months I’ve known you! Jesus, fuck, I’ve gotta get rid of this smell. I’m so fucking hot,” your voice gets smaller as you speak. You can’t think straight but head towards the bathroom, unzipping your tac suit and pulling it from your arms as you go. You slam the door and lock it. You turn the cold water on full blast and nearly fall over in your haste to get your suit off. The frigid spray helps for a few moments and you revel in it, but soon another type of heat begins to take over. Your clit throbs and when you place your hand between your legs, your wetness coats your fingers. The shower stops bringing relief and instead, the water coursing down your body seems to only make you hornier. You give in to the need that takes hold and circle your clit. It feels amazing and it takes only a couple of minutes for your orgasm to break over you. You bite your lip to hold in the moans, not wanting the asshat on the other side of the door to hear you.

Your body has a moment of relief but then the heat builds again, even quicker this time. You dip your fingers inside of you in a desperate attempt to stop it. The second orgasm you managed to pull did little to help your body and your fingers keep working furiously to bring another in hope of relief. Your moans are spilling from your lips without a care now. You just need to get this to stop. You’re disturbed when the door rattles and a fist bangs loudly.

“Open the door! I need to get in there,” Bucky bellows.

You wanted to scream at him to go away but you could barely form words. You hated the stupid supersoldier from the moment you met him. He questioned your every turn. Whether it was about your skill, experience, or motives. He never lets you get through a single conversation without making you feel like a lesser part of the team.

“Goddamnit, let me in!” He yells more loudly.

Nothing your hand was doing was helping any longer. You couldn’t think straight and, before you can make a move or form a thought, the door splinters open from a kick. A very naked Bucky comes through the door and your eyes widen as you see his cock standing at attention. He steps into the spray of the cold shower and growls. His hand works his cock furiously while his other rests on the tiles. His head falls forward as he lets the cold water fall down his back. You stand behind him, your hand still between your legs.

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” you whimper as you lean your feverish forehead onto his back. The cool water does nothing to help but where your skin touches his tingles with relief. Abandoning all pride, you press your entire body to his and the fever seems to cool wherever you touch but your clit throbs even harder. Your cunt weeps, begging for attention.You rub yourself against him, your nipples pebbling at the contact with his back.

With a growl, Bucky turns around and you quickly back up to press your back against the wall of the shower. He stares at you, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in your haze, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hot and-”

You gasp as Bucky bends down, grabs your legs, and drags you up the tiles. You squeal and reach for any handhold as he puts your legs over his shoulders and attacks your clit with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” You scream as one hand lands on the ceiling to help you balance and the other buries in his hair. His tongue swirls over your clit expertly. His hands squeeze your ass as he gorges himself on you. It doesn’t take long for you to buck your hips as you come all over his face. As he sets you down, you squeeze your thighs together but your body simply screams that it wants more. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. “It’s not working. Nothing helps,” you whimper, tears forming. It’s obvious by watching him that this is affecting him almost as much as you. His supersoldier serum must be helping him but he was burning just the same.

Bucky sighs as he steps closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours with his eyes closed and whispers, “I think there’s only one thing that’s going to help.”

You put your arms around his neck, “Just do it!” You wrap a leg around his to encourage him and he lifts you up. He presses your back into the wall as he lines himself up with your entrance. He paused there for a second as if he was fighting himself. “Please, Barnes, please! I need it!” You can’t believe you’re begging the man you hate to fuck you but your body was demanding it and if he didn’t you were sure you would burn to death. If you had been thinking straight, you would probably prefer to burn but, at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers as he presses in. Your body bows with pleasure.

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice reverberates off the tile walls as you shout with relief. He begins to pump and your body trembles with each motion of his cock. He grabs your ass as he pounds into you and you know he’s as lost in the meeting of your bodies as you are. Your cunt flutters around him, pulling him in, begging for him to come inside of you. Your rational mind has gone completely silent and you are filled with only carnal lust. Every motion of his hips takes you higher and it’s all you want. “Don’t stop,” you grip his shoulders harder.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunts. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to and, truth was, this was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, God, oh, God, I’m- yes!” You release a long, high-pitched moan as you come. Your pussy grips his cock as his hips stutter. He comes with a long moan that makes you clench around him more firmly. You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath, and blessedly your body finally starts to cool. You release your legs from around his waist and he gently sets you down. You can’t look at him and instead maneuver yourself back under the cold spray. You rinse off quickly and step out of the shower. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you exit the bathroom to find your pack and some clothes. While you rifle through your pack, you feel your temperature creeping up again and then you double over from the intense wave that rolls over you. “No, no, not again,” you whisper to yourself. You look over to the broken bathroom door where Bucky still is and consider your options. Sex had given you the relief you needed but it was short lived. Your mind runs amuck with questions. What the hell was that powder? What was it doing to you? How long would this last? How many times would it take to stop this heat from trying to burn you alive? Was sex really the only relief you would find? Another pang hit and knocked the breath from your body. You were gasping in pain when an arm picked you up around your middle.

He was still wet from the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry off. The pains had hit him and he went to the only place he knew he could find relief. He carried you to the small bed in the house and set you down on your hands and knees. He grips your hips tightly and pauses for a moment as another rush of heat spreads over him, “I need-”

“Just do it,” your words come out in a rush, pressing back into him.

He enters you without preamble. Pulling you back to meet each motion of his hips, his moans give evidence of the pleasure and relief that the connection brings. You reach under you to play with your clit, trying to bring your orgasm on more quickly. Each of Bucky’s swift thrusts has you crying out with pleasure and he moves your hand away to bring you to orgasm himself. He wanted to feel you clench around him as you had before.

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” you whine, “Just like that, don’t- don’t stop, oh, fuck.”

Bucky moans as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock with your orgasm. The sounds you release are a hit straight to his cock and he comes hard, thrusting with each spurt into you. Breathing heavily, you both collapse on the bed. You lay on your side facing away from him while taking stock of your body. The relief you felt with your orgasm was short lived as heat began to build again after only a few minutes.

You feel like crying as your body radiates waves of heat. You turn over to face Bucky. He is lying on his back, his metal arm slung over his eyes, and his right hand fisting his hard cock. You make your decision quickly. Pulling his hand away, you straddle him and guide his cock inside of you. You move your hips slowly, hoping that perhaps if you stretched out the sex, it would keep the pain at bay longer. His hands grip your thighs as you rock slowly, his head is thrown back with eyes tightly closed. You looked at him for a moment and still couldn't believe that of all the teammates this could happen with, it had to be this asshole. When you first met him, you thought he was hot as fuck but as his personality (or lack there of) reared it’s ugly head you found him less and less attractive. Your anger at the situation grew as you rode him and you found yourself leaning forward, chasing your orgasm to just get this over with.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky bucks up into you, causing you to cry out. He repeats the motion over and over again until your body spasms around him. He comes with a grunt as he watches your face contort with pleasure. You collapse on his chest without looking at him. You wondered if keeping your bodies connected would keep the heat from returning.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly.

You sigh weakly as you felt the now familiar warmth beginning to spread, “I was hoping…” You let out a frustrated grunt, “I was hoping if we stayed touching it would be enough. But it’s starting again.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bucky acknowledges his own heat building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” you grouse.

“I think… I think this might be a pheromone or something Hydra created to force procreation. I heard of the experiments but they abandoned it when it didn’t produce the results they wanted.”

“Which was?” You ask as your hips make slow circles. You can feel his cock quickly hardening inside of you.

“Naturally born supersoldiers,” Bucky strains out the words.

“So, we’re gonna have sex until we die or what?”

“Usually wore off in a few hours but until then…” he trails off as he gots lost in the sensations.

“Fuck,” you groan, partially out of frustration, partially from the pleasure his thick cock was producing.

“Basically,” Bucky says and you surprise yourself by laughing at the droll comment. You are even more surprised a second later when Bucky rolls you under him. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls your leg up higher and thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to build again.

“Harder,” you whimper.

Bucky complies immediately and you whimper with each stroke. Grabbing onto him, you get lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you sharply. You were glad that he at least was decent at this. Or was it that whatever the damn contaminant was made everything feel amazing? You were getting close with the steady way he fucked you and words started to pour out of your mouth. You were usually quite vocal in bed but hadn’t wanted to give Bucky the satisfaction. Now, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Oh, god, it’s so good. Don’t stop, right there. It’s so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” You let out a loud moan as you come hard and Bucky’s hips work even faster as he nears his own end. When he comes on a broken cry, your body revels in the feeling of him emptying himself in you.

The rational side of your brain sounded far away but was still screaming at the situation. In a moment of it managing to take hold, you push Bucky off of you and roll away from him. Breathing heavily, you pray that this is over. Surely, this was enough to satisfy anything. You will yourself to stay cool, to not allow the heat to return, to hold onto any shred of sanity you can find, but despite it all, the heat built again. You felt like screaming but you knew that nothing you did would help. You turn back to Bucky and say frustratedly, “Ready for another round?” You can’t meet his eyes but you knew neither of you could handle the pain and heat. You needed each other.

Bucky turns to you, “Hey.” He waits, wanting you to look him in the eyes but you just stare at his chest. “Hey.”

“What?” You say waspishly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Never mind,” he says as he grabs you and pulls your back against his chest. His cock nudges you from behind and you maneuver your hips to allow him entry. His thrusts are quick and sharp but his fingers on your clit are pure magic. He’s learned your body quickly but instead of leading you straight to orgasm this time, he works you to the precipice and then backs off repeatedly. You understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to prolong the sex in hopes of not having to come inside you any more than he already had but it was as if your body only got angrier with each denial.

“It’s not working! Just let me come!” You finally cry out, your frustration having reached its breaking point.

“Say it,” Bucky growls.

You wrack your muddled brain trying to grasp what he wants and latch on to the only word you can find, “Please!”

“No, say my name.”

You would normally reel angrily at a command from him but the effects this powder had on you makes you compliant from need. You stutter as your tongue tries to cooperate, “B- Barnes.”

“No,” he says darkly, “Say it.”

“Bucky,” you grind the word out through your teeth. You had never once called him that. It had always been some variant of his last name. You felt even more vulnerable now.

Bucky doesn’t utter a word but he moves his hips faster and his fingers do their job. When you finally come, your whole body spasms and you scream. The sound was foreign to your ears but the orgasm just kept going. You fluttered around Bucky’s cock, milking him of cum. You stay in that position for the next two rounds of sex. Then you got on top again to give Bucky a break but this time you faced away from him. You couldn’t look at him. When you had rode him to two orgasms and yourself to utter exhaustion, he turned you on your stomach to fuck you again. You lost count of the number of times you had sex. More orgasms than you’d ever had in your life were accomplished and you didn’t have any clue how many times he came. You fucked until you both passed out.

Waking up fourteen hours later, you felt as if you had the worst hangover you’d ever experienced. You glance at the spot Bucky had been in but he was gone. On the table by the bed was a couple of bottles of water, a protein bar, and a bottle of pain reliever. You raised your eyebrow at the items but just shrugged as you tore into all of them. You notice your pack is by the bed and you get up to put clothes on. The first thing you notice is the soreness between your legs but really your whole body hurts. You listen for a moment but don’t hear anything in the house. Peeking out the door, you see the empty living room and slip into the bathroom. You shower quickly, trying not to remember what happened in the small space just yesterday.

You jump when a knock sounds while you are dressing. You call out, “Yes?”

“Exfil will be here in five minutes,” Bucky says through the broken door.

“I’ll be right out,” you say. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t imagine facing him after everything. Would he act like nothing happened or gloat like the asshole he is? You wonder if you will ever be able to look him in the face again. You look at yourself, surprised that you still look the same as you did yesterday because you know you’ll never be the same again. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. Now, you had a jet to catch.

Part 2

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 months

Text

Come Find Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I am back back back again! I have missed writing so much, I just don't have nearly the amount of time that I used to. But I'm in my last semester of school! So hopefully I'll be back on a consistent fanfic grind once I'm done :) PS: If you know what the title is referencing, you get a big hug from me.

Word Count: 13,439

Warnings: blood, talk of violence, reader injury

Bucky checked his texts every few minutes. Initially, he lied to himself about the reason behind it. He told himself he must’ve opened his conversation with you accidentally, or that he mistook an email notification for a text from you. Simple, innocent mistakes.

Either way, he always ended up staring at your side of the conversation, hoping for a gray ellipsis to appear.

But after a while, he could no longer deny the truth- and why would he want to? You were coming home.

You hadn’t been gone long, and your mission was projected to be a cake walk. But he couldn’t help it; he missed you. He missed you when you went on missions, when you visited your parents out of state, when you slept in your room down the hall. Missing you was part of him now, woven into the fabric of his being. It matched the material of his soul perfectly, like he was always meant to feel this way.

He fired off a quick “let me know when you land” message and waited, hoping you’d write back soon.

Usually, you texted him when you were headed back to the compound. It gave him a countdown to your return and something to look forward to. It also signaled to him that you were, in fact, coming home alive. Even if a bit banged up, you were well enough to shoot him a message. And that always eased his worries.

Today, however, was different. No text, no call.

It struck him as bizarre and sounded Bucky’s internal alarms. But he silenced them as best he could. He wasn’t going to let himself get worked up, not when you had a perfectly good reason for not messaging him.

This was your first time leading a mission with a new recruit under your wing. Bucky knew you devoted your full attention to your trainee, giving him absolutely everything you had. You took this position- as well as your pupil’s safety and success- very seriously. He knew you were probably busy helping your recruit learn a swath of new things, and who was he to interrupt?

Bucky opened the log and saw your jet had been marked as ‘incoming’ only minutes ago. A sigh of relief left his chest and eased his muscles. Sure, he would’ve rather heard that information from you, but it didn’t matter. Your jet would be here soon; he had no reason to worry.

The moment he saw that your jet was homeward bound, he lost the ability to think about anything else. He counted the minutes, the seconds. You had to be close, right? The log wouldn’t have said ‘Incoming’ if you were still hours away.

To pass the time, he folded laundry, answered emails, reread a few chapters of The Hobbit- but he couldn’t focus. He thought of you, only you. And no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t hang around his room any longer. He couldn’t stand it. He needed to be there when the jet landed. He needed to meet you on the steps of the aircraft and wrap you in a bear hug.

And there was no real harm in waiting near the hangar, was there? ‘If anything,’ he told himself, ‘It’s actually more convenient for her if I meet her there. That way, I can carry her bag- she’s probably tired.’

Anything to rationalize his desperate need to be near you.

He knew in his heart of hearts that you didn’t need him to carry your bag or help you off the jet. But this lie was all the convincing he needed. Without hesitation, he ditched his room and set off down the hall, your impending homecoming pulling him forward.

It was in that moment he noticed just how far the elevator was from his room. The walk seemed to stretch on and on, the hallway growing longer with each step. And how had he never noticed how slowly the elevator moved? It slid downward at a glacial pace, toying with his patience. For such an expensive, state of the art building, the elevator moved like an ancient piece of turn of the century machinery. Bucky cursed Tony’s engineering.

Everything seemed to add time, multiplying his moments without you. The universe liked toying with him, teasing him. And this was just another cruel joke.

The moment the doors opened, Bucky sprang free out into the hallway. He knocked into Clint and his group of trainees and called an apology over his shoulder without stopping. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t waste time- not when you could arrive at any moment.

His field of view narrowed into tunnel vision, only allowing for visualization of the path toward the hangar. He didn’t greet his fellow team members or allow for distraction. You were his one-track mind. That is, until something stopped him.

“Shit, sorry, man,” your trainee, Jake, laughed as he bumped into Bucky. He took a step to the side and attempted to continue down the hall, but Bucky blocked his path.

“Jake?” Bucky eyed a bloody gash on Jake’s eyebrow, “when did you guys get back?”

Jake gave a casual shrug and checked his phone, “I don’t know, five minutes ago?”

“Oh, okay…” Bucky reached for his phone, but found his screen void of notifications. If you landed five minutes ago with your trainee safe and sound, why didn’t you send him a message? It was out of character for you.

“Well, where’s your partner in crime? Or crime fighting, I guess,” Bucky tried to joke, but his tone was strained. He eyed each person who came around the corner, hoping to find your face. “Did you see which way she went?”

“Nah, she’s not here,” Jake was scrolling through Instagram, only half paying attention.

Bucky’s disappointed sigh left his chest deflated, empty. “Oh, did she say where she was going? Or when she’d be back?”

Jake pulled his focus from his phone and stared at Bucky with confusion on his face. His brows pulled together, his mouth hung slightly ajar. But finally, he made sense of Bucky’s words. “OHHH, okay, my bad- I think there was a miscommunication just now.”

Bucky sighed again- this time, with relief.

“Yeah, no, she’s not here,” Jake continued, “because she didn’t make it back.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing.

The sharp, piercing sound blocked out voices. Footsteps on the tile. Maybe Jake was trying to speak to him, but Bucky heard only the shrill sound of shock. Seconds later, his nerves fell numb. The utter absence of sensation disconnected him from his body. He was lost in a liminal atmosphere with no stability, no purchase. His entire being was shutting down, one sense at a time.

Bucky told himself to focus, to compute what he’d heard. He did his best to make sense of Jake’s words, but to no avail. His mind simply couldn’t understand the phrase “she didn’t make it back”. The words had shed their meaning entirely and sounded foreign to Bucky as they rattled around his skull. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin, and a cold sweat created a sheen across his face. He feared he might get sick.

“I- I’m sorry,” he forced himself back into his body, back to the present. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Things got pretty hairy- this was not the easy mission they said it would be,” Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not fair, I definitely got a way harder assignment for my first mission than all the other new agents, and I think it’s-”

Bucky’s glare could’ve sliced Jake in half, “get to the point.”

“Right, um,” Jake continued, “I told her over comms that I was leaving. I gave her plenty of time to meet me at the jet, but she didn’t answer. And she never came outside.” He shrugged, “I had to leave for my own safety.”

“So, you just-” Bucky felt himself losing his grip. “You left her there? Alone?” He didn’t realize he was shouting, didn’t realize he’d drawn attention to himself- until Agent Hill showed up.

She placed a light hand on Bucky’s tense shoulder, but instantly withdrew. He was shaking, practically vibrating under her palm. “Is there a problem here, guys? I don’t want-”

“He left her behind,” was all Bucky could manage.

Maria stared at Jake in disbelief, “you did what?”

A strange mixture of rage and heartbreak seethed behind Bucky’s eyes, “You don’t just abandon your partner-”

Jake’s attitude disgusted Bucky. He was detached, irritated. He rolled his eyes like an insolent child. “Relax, man. Jesus Christ, this isn’t the army. I didn’t promise to ‘leave no man behind’ or whatever-”

Bucky had heard enough. He lifted jake by the collar of his shirt, twisting the material in his metal fist. Jake’s head sent a sickening thud resounding through the space as Bucky forced him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck?” Jake squirmed in Bucky’s grasp, “There are casualties in the field all the time, why am I being punished for-”

Bucky released Jake at once, sending him crashing to the floor.

His voice was quiet, hollow. “Casualties?” He swallowed hard, “Is she-”

Jake shrugged at he rubbed at the bruise forming on his neck. “I don’t know, I assume so. I didn’t stick around to find out.”

And just like that, Bucky was gone.

He took off down the hall, forcing himself forward as a soul-crushing panic swallowed him whole. No matter how many times he blinked, no matter how fervently he shook his head, he couldn’t rid his mind of the picture Jake painted for him. Each time he shut his eyes he saw you- alone. Your bloodied, broken body laying collapsed against a wall of a Hydra base. Your skin slick with blood. Your skin cold. Void of life.

He moved quickly, but not quick enough. He simply couldn’t outrun the familiar feeling closing in on him. His heavy, well-worn cloak of grief wound its way across his shoulders and twisted itself around his neck. He knew the suffocating sensation all too well. It weighed him down but couldn’t dampen his pace, nothing could; not when your life hung in the balance.

He was too well acquainted with loss by now, too familiar with mourning. There’d been a time when he wondered if he’d ever grieve again. He’d lost his family, his friends, himself- what else was there? What more could he possibly lose? But the moment he met you, he knew he’d one day mourn again. He just didn’t realize that time would come so soon.

A startling cold prickled at his skin, his lungs refused to inflate. How much time did you have left? How long would it take him to get to you? Were you even-

Hill’s voice yanked him out of his spiral, “Barnes, hey-” She made a grab at his shoulder, but her feeble attempt was no match for Bucky’s pace. “Where are you going?”

“To get her back.” Bucky’s tone was firm, resolute. He was going to bring you home or die trying.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hill nearly tripped over her own feet as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides. “You heard what Jake said, it’s a dangerous location- more dangerous than we thought. I think it might be best to wait it out for a few days, let things calm down and then-”

Bucky turned suddenly, stopping Maria in her tracks. “I’m not just going to leave her there.”

Maria shrunk away from the fierceness in his eyes, “I know you’re upset, but she might not be-”

“I don’t care.” His gruff tone dissolved, making way for the fear he’d so desperately tried to hide. “Whether she’s alive or-” he couldn’t bring himself to voice the alternative.

Bucky knew what it was like to be assumed dead. He knew what it was like to be left in the field.

“She deserves to come home,” he said.

Maria couldn’t argue with him.

“Round up as many members of the med team as you can and have them meet me in the hangar. We’re leaving in ten minutes- sooner if we can.” Bucky turned and resumed his previous path, “I’ll be in the armory.”

Bucky grabbed as much weaponry as his duffel would carry without splitting at the seams and made his way to the hangar. He hoped to find ten, maybe fifteen members of the medical team waiting for him on the jet. He wasn’t sure of your condition, didn’t know how many breaths you had left. He wanted to give you the best possible chance at surviving the onslaught you endured.

But when he turned the corner into the hangar, he found only three scrub-clad bodies.

“Is this it?” Bucky boarded the jet and dropped his bag to the floor. He eyed the scant amount of medical support, their uncertain expressions. His hopes of bringing you home alive dwindled.

A nurse who’d stitched Bucky up more times than he could count gave him a nervous smile. “The med bay is swamped, the team could barely afford to let us come with you.”

Bucky didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want excuses or rationalizations. All he wanted was to bring you home with your heart still beating. And three medical professionals, he decided, was better than none.

The flight to your location only gave Bucky more time to worry. He obsessively checked his weaponry, hovered over the med team’s supplies. But no amount of double and triple checking could save him from the spiral. He traveled down the path of every possible “what if?”, leading him only to heartache. No matter where he searched, he couldn’t find a positive outcome. And though he didn’t want to acknowledge the odds, he knew yours were slim- impossible, even.

And as the jet grew closer to your location, Bucky steeled himself for what he knew he’d find: you, his best friend, his reason for living, his everything- dead. Cold. Lifeless. None of the horrors he faced in the past could compare; no pain could ever be greater. Bucky knew he’d hurt for the rest of his life.

The clouds parted as the jet began its descent. Slowly, a large stone building appeared out of the fog like a monster in the horror movies you loved so much. It stood in an otherwise empty clearing, its shadow looming over the dying grass. Smoke billowed from holes in the roof, the walls. Whatever happened here was catastrophic. Disastrous.

Bucky’s heart sat lodged in his throat as he imagined you trapped in there. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin as he stared at the looming structure. He had to get you out, even if he died trying.

Just before the jet touched down, an idea popped into Bucky’s head. It scaled the high walls he’d tried to erect to protect himself from thoughts of your demise and grabbed him by the throat. It was smart- brilliant, actually. He was shocked he could even think straight given the circumstances.

“FRIDAY,” Bucky called out, “is comm 1209 working?” He shoved his own comm in his ear and waited for a response.

“Comm 1209 is on and in range,” Friday said. “Would you like me to connect you?”

He couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A few staticky clicks and pops vibrated against Bucky’s eardrum as his comm connected to yours. But he was too scared to speak. What if you didn’t answer? What if he heard you take your dying breaths? Just the thought was enough to make him sick.

He owed it to you, though, to at least try. He’d always said he’d do anything for you, that he’d risk it all for you- and he meant it every time. If reaching out to you over comms exposed him to something horrible, something traumatic and unforgettable, at least he tried. At least he attempted to keep his promise. And after everything he’d been through, what was one more life-shattering, soul-crushing nightmare?

“H- um…” Bucky swallowed the large lump obstructing his throat. “Hello?” He waited a moment, holding his breath the entire time, and tried again. “Hello?”

He waited.

No response.

“Doll? It’s me. It’s Bucky…”

The dead silence on the other end of the line dragged on. It seemed like his words disappeared into the air, unacknowledged. Unheard. Maybe the sound of his voice was reverberating inside your ear as you lay dying. Or maybe he was talking to your corpse.

The thought made him nauseous.

“Please, sweetheart. If you’re there- if you’re able- just say one word. Say anything,” he pled. A long bout of silence followed.

He clenched and released his metal fist again and again, desperate to rid himself of the panic settling into his bones. He was stupid to think you survived, stupid to let himself be optimistic. He made it here as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t save you. He was too late.

He wanted to take one of his many weapons and turn it on himself.

But a small sound stopped him.

“Buck…”

He almost fell to his knees. At the sound of your voice, an overwhelming warmth banished the cold that infiltrated his bones. Against all odds, you were alive.

A deep sigh of relief seeped from Bucky’s lungs, “Sweetheart…”

A hurricane of emotion rattled against the storm doors inside Bucky’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘almosts’. How he almost lost you, how you almost died alone in a Hydra base. But he couldn’t allow it to swallow him- not yet. There was no time for a breakdown. He needed to move, he needed to get to you.

He shrugged off the grief that rested heavy on his shoulders and swallowed the impending sob that vibrated inside his throat. “I’m here- I’m gonna come get you. Just tell me where-”

A staunch refusal came from your end of the comm, “No- no…” You took a sharp, rattling breath, “no way.”

Bucky didn’t like the way you had to fight to get your words out. You were clearly struggling, doing everything in your power to stay on this side of consciousness. He wondered how much time you had left.

But still, there was a familiar strength to your voice. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the renewed hope of rescue; something was keeping you alive.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just tell me where you are. The jet just landed. I’m gonna get you out and-”

“I said- I said no,” you breathed. “You can’t c-come in here, it’s too dangerous… we were a-ambushed.”

Even in your condition, even when Bucky was your only hope of rescue, his safety was your first thought. You’d rather die alone than put Bucky’s life at risk; the thought made his cheeks pink and filled his chest with a fuzzy warmth. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling.

“If you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll just sweep the whole building,” Bucky said, using your worry against you. “That means more opportunities for me to run into Hydra operatives. More time inside the base- it’ll be way more dangerous.” He could practically see you rolling your eyes, “so it’s probably better if you just give me a direct route, don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he envisioned you on the other end. He was certain you were arguing with yourself, cursing his rationale.

He waited for you to come at him with a sharp retort or a sarcastic quip but heard nothing. The silence on your end of the line dragged on. And on. It lasted far too long for Bucky’s comfort. Surely, you couldn’t still be thinking about his proposition? He’d given you more than enough time to make up your mind, more than enough time to come up with a response. It was time you didn’t have.

What if you’d fallen unconscious? What if, in those quiet moments, your soul vacated this earth?

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He disembarked the jet, resolving to search every inch of the base. But just as he reached the dark, unsettling building, you spoke.

“F-fifteenth floor. Northeast… northeast quadrant,” you sighed, defeated. “There’s a- a room at the end of this hall, I think it’s maybe an office?” Again, you took a long pause. The energy required to think, to speak, was energy you didn’t have. “Just f-follow the trail of blood.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He shuddered at the thought of your blood leaving a path down the stark white, sterile hallways of the base. But he didn’t have time to focus on anything other than getting you out; this was a rescue. He owed it to you to keep his head level. To focus on getting you out as quickly as he could.

“The power is… it’s out”, you said. “You’re gonna h-have to take-”

Bucky wanted to save you from wasting any extra energy, “The stairs. Got it.”

And while he normally didn’t mind getting a few extra steps in, he knew the time required to climb fifteen flights of stairs would push the limits of your survival.

But he pushed the ever-encroaching sense of doom to the side and put on a brave face for you. For himself. “Okay, I’m coming to get you,” he promised. “Stay awake, and don’t move.”

“As if I h-have a choice,” you laughed a breathy, hollow laugh. A long groan followed.

Your pain radiated through Bucky’s chest. He didn’t want to climb stairs or scour hallways- he just wanted to be there. To instantly materialize at your side. To bring you instantaneous comfort. He lamented the super soldier serum’s lack of teleportation abilities.

“You know what I mean, doll. Just stay awake, okay?” Bucky drew his gun and stepped inside the building. “Don’t fall asleep. Do anything you have to do- just stay awake. Can you keep talking until I get there?”

“W-what am I…” You let out a raspy exhale, “supposed to talk about?”

Bucky cleared a long hallway and found the stairwell, “Anything, just keep talking.”

Another extended silence filled the air; it nearly drove Bucky crazy. Your silences held limitless possibilities, horrifying ‘what ifs’.

“It w-wasn’t supposed to be… to be like this,” you finally said. “It wasn’t supposed to be this dangerous. This was Jake’s first mission- it wasn’t f-fair to him.” Heartache coated your every word. Even after your partner abandoned you, even after Jake forced you to suffer and bleed all alone- you still sympathized with him. Still felt sorry for him.

Bucky felt no such thing.

“I know, doll. Keep talking, okay?”

You sighed. “We s-split up for recon… that’s when they- when they came at me.” Your next few breaths were so shallow, your lungs barely inflated; the lack of oxygen left you dizzy. A thin veil of glittering spots sparkled and danced on the edges of your periphery. “It all h-happened so fast… there were so many of them. I just- I remember pain. And I hoped Jake was okay, w-wherever he was.”

Your heart was too good for this job. For people like Jake. Bucky admired your kindness, your empathy, your selfless nature. Even in the face of pain, of death- you thought about others. You often told Bucky how unfair life had been to him, lamenting his treatment at the hands of fate. Bucky found himself doing the same for you and your kind heart.

“I called out for h-him, I needed backup… I kept asking him to come help me-” A sharp cough rattled out of your throat.

Bucky cringed at the sound. It was the only sound in the building. He hadn’t heard anyone else. Hadn’t seen one Hydra operative- at least, not a live one. He came across their bodies every now and again but didn’t see a single living soul. He was sure they deserted after the explosion. Just like Jake.

The destruction, however, was everywhere. Bullet casings littered the floor. Blood stained the tile floors. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. He had to get you out of here.

“But he n-never answered. And then he told me he was leaving. He said he was- he was outside already. He gave me n-ninety seconds to meet him at the jet…” Your words were tinged with devastation, with hopelessness, with betrayal. “I tried- I did my best to make it down the stairs. But I was- I was dizzy… I was b-bleeding.” The memory stung like your fresh wounds. “I kept slipping on- on my own blood. I just c-couldn’t move fast enough. It hurt too much.”

Wrath burned inside Bucky like a raging forest fire. But his utter heartbreak doused it completely, extinguishing the rageful flames. He found himself unable to think, to breathe. It took everything in him to keep moving forward. Who could ever leave you behind like that? Who could ignore your suffering and sentence you to death without a second thought? The image of you stumbling, struggling to run for your life gutted him.

“And then- and then I heard the jet t-take off,” you sighed. “And I listened as it got farther and farther away… until it was g-gone. And I was- I was alone.”

He thought of you sitting alone in cold silence as the noise from the jet quieted. As your hope dwindled. The entire base must’ve felt like a tomb, like a massive, lonely grave meant just for you.

Bucky almost fell to his knees. Sobs throttled the inside of his chest, begging for release. Tears burned inside his lash line. Jake didn’t just leave you behind, he marooned you without care. And in his departure, he sealed your fate.

“I d-didn’t have a way to call for… for help. My phone was on the j-jet with jake.”

The sorrow that stained your words was all too familiar to Bucky. It was the same hopelessness that accompanied him every day that he was at Hydra. When he laid in the snow for hours upon hours after falling from the train. He never wished that kind of despondency, that kind of misery on anyone. And knowing that you, the person who deserved it the least, experienced it for even a moment shattered him.

“I realized I… I didn’t h-have any options,” you breathed.

A collapsed column blocked Bucky’s path as he tried to make his way from the sixth floor to the seventh. The concrete was too high, too precarious to scale. If he tried to climb it and got hurt, it would only serve to diminish your chances of survival. And he wasn’t willing to risk that. With a huff, Bucky exited the northwest stairwell in search of another route. This was a waste of time- time you didn’t have.

He painstakingly checked every hall until he finally found another stairwell. His breathing came a little easier as he rocketed his way up the stairs, growing ever closer to you.

“So, I found this- this room. It’s quiet. It’s out of the w-way. I needed somewhere to hide. S-somewhere to…” A small crack of emotion cut through your voice, “somewhere to die.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Jake got to return home safe and sound while you struggled to stay alive. It wasn’t fair that you had to seek out your own deathbed. Bucky wanted to scream, to break things, to spill every last drop of Jake’s blood. But he was a soldier, and this was a rescue mission.

“This seemed like as g-good a place as any,” you choked on a weak laugh. “Beats dying in the middle of a h-hallway, I guess.”

Bucky’s automatic response was to swear that you’d make it out. To promise that you weren’t going to die. But he bit his tongue. He couldn’t make those kinds of assurances. He’d do anything to bring you comfort but swearing that you’d return home alive seemed almost cruel.

He pushed himself to move faster. He couldn’t let you die alone, especially not in this godforsaken place. As he sprinted up the last flight of stairs and ripped open the door to the fifteenth floor, he struggled to orient himself. You were in the northeast quadrant, but where was he? He searched for anything to indicate his location- but found no signage. No directory.

Everything inside of him rattled with dread, with anxiety. Any moment now, you were going to die. You were going to take your last breath. All alone. A thick, suffocating wave of panic crashed over Bucky as he realized- you were going to die disappointed. You were going to leave this world knowing that he hadn’t gotten to you in time.

It was then that he noticed a faded arrow painted on the wall, with “NEQ” painted below it in block letters. Northeast quadrant. He was closer than he thought.

“I’m gonna be there in just a second, doll,” he said as he followed the arrows. “I think I’m right around the corner.”

This was just his way of making you feel better, you were sure of it. The hallways were long and winding. Each floor was a maze of its own. Even with your vague instructions, it could take him a while to find you. Still, Bucky’s words brought you comfort in the way that only he could.

“I know, I t-trust…” A metallic taste filled your mouth. A warm ooze trickled down your chin and dripped onto your chest. The warm, fuzzy feeling brought on by Bucky’s assurances faded. Of course, you knew you were in bad shape. But as blood leaked from your mouth, you wondered if these were your last moments.

Instantly, you searched for the words to say goodbye to Bucky. Time was slipping through your fingers, life draining from your body with each passing second. But before you drifted off into a never-ending sleep, you had to tell Bucky what he meant to you. You’d use all your strength, your last few breaths- whatever it took. He just had to know.

But how does one say goodbye to a soulmate? You didn’t have the energy or capacity to make a grandiose speech. And the blood filling your mouth impeded your ability to speak. You wanted to tell bucky everything- how he comforted you, cared for you, made your life worth living. How your life revolved around him as though he were your personal sun. But nothing quite encapsulated the things you felt for him. Every word in the English language, every sonnet fell short. And the lack of oxygen getting to your brain sabotaged your phrasing.

“Buck, I think it’s… I think it’s almost t-time,” you rasped.

But just as you opened your blood-stained mouth to proclaim every feeling you ever had for him, the door flew open. Alarm coursed through your veins at the threat. Surely, a Hydra agent had stumbled upon your hiding place and was here to finish you off. The severe blood loss was no match for your training, thought. And, on instinct, you pulled your gun on the tall, dark silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Woah, hey!” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “It’s me, it’s just me.”

At the sound of his voice, your arm fell limp. Your gun clattered to the floor. Your head lolled back against the wall. It had taken everything in you to try and protect yourself one last time. And now that your energy reserves were nearly depleted, you allowed your eyes to close.

“S-sorry…” A barely-there smile pulled at your lips. “My… my bad, Buck.”

“No, don’t be sorry, doll.”

Bucky knelt in front of you, taking in your broken, bloodied body. He’d seen carnage before, witnessed more death than anyone should. But this, you- it was different. It hurt in places he didn’t know he had. But he didn’t let it show. Knowing you, you’d spend your last few moments comforting him, trying to make him feel better. And so, he forced a warm smile and tabled his breakdown for the moment.

“I’m actually impressed. I mean, you might be hurt, but you were ready to take me out just now,” he forced a chuckle. “That’s my girl.” His cool metallic hand brushed against your blood-stained cheek.

And in that moment, something within you changed. Your eyes shot open. You blinked a few times before forcing your eyes shut once again. You gave your head a few good shakes. Surely, this wasn’t real- it couldn’t be.

You opened your eyes wide once again, taking him in. “Bucky?”

With one shaking hand, you reached for him in the most pathetic attempt he’d ever seen. You were weak, dangerously so; it scared him to his core. But you were alive.

He leaned in, meeting you in the middle, and let you stroke at his stubble for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he kissed your palm. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“You’re…” you other hand reached for him, but made it only a centimeter or two before falling into your lap. Bucky opted to take it in his. “You’re here?”

He nodded, “I could never leave you behind, sweetheart.”

He may have continued speaking after that, but you didn’t quite hear him. The emotion you’d tried so hard to swallow came bursting forward, crushing your every attempt at remaining levelheaded. Your fingers smoothed over Bucky’s cheek again and again. His name fell from your lips in what resembled a prayer. Tears rolled down your cheeks and mixed with the blood crusting over your skin.

A soft, warm wave of peace rolled in, covering you like a well-loved quilt. The pain disappeared; the sorrow evaporated. All that remained was Bucky. This was the warm spring that followed a dark, bitter winter. The first rays of sun after a vicious storm. The first taste of home after a long time away. You let the familiar warmth of Bucky’s presence drown out the rest of the world until only you two remained.

“Sweetheart, did you hear me?” With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Bucky called you back to the present. “I need to look at your wound, okay?”

A sharp rush of pain nearly blinded you as you lifted your shirt, exposing the bloody mess. But even as Bucky appraised the gunshot wound that turned your abdomen into horror scene, you couldn’t find it in you to worry. Your hands lazily found his shoulder, his chest, his face; you just wanted to touch him. To know, without a doubt, that he was there. That he was real.

“Hey, we… we need to t-talk,” you whispered as Bucky did his best to quickly bandage your wound for transport. “I n-need to talk- to talk to you…”

Bucky nodded, “sure thing, doll. Absolutely. We can talk about whatever you want. But right now…” he returned your shirt to its rightful position and met your gaze. “Right now, I need to get you out to the jet, okay? We can talk later.”

He guided your arms around his neck, lifted you into his arms, and moved as fast as he could through the winding hallways. His quick gait set your nerves alight with pain. Every bump, every jostle had you gasping for breath. And though it was a necessary evil, the guilt still sat in Bucky’s stomach like a rock. His repeated ‘I’m sorrys’ were nearly constant, doubling with your every grimace and groan. But he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t let the time slip away; you didn’t have much left.

Between pained sounds and twisted expressions of discomfort, you said the same thing on a loop. Again and again and again, you pled with him, using energy you didn’t have.

“We need to… to t-talk.”

“I h-have to tell you.”

“Can I talk to y-you about- about something?”

And though Bucky would’ve loved nothing more than to have a long heart to heart with you as you two often did, you weren’t strong enough. He couldn’t let you waste your finite energy on a conversation with him. And so, he responded to each of your requests with an ask of his own, begging you to save your strength. He promised that the two of you could talk tomorrow, that there was plenty of time for a conversation later.

But ‘plenty of time’ almost seemed like an empty promise. And ‘tomorrow’ felt like a lie. Would you have a ‘later’? He didn’t know. But he didn’t want you wasting your oxygen, not when he feared it might be your last breath.

Boarding the jet with you alive in his arms almost felt like a win to Bucky. Almost. Sure, he’d gotten you out with your heart still beating, but your condition worsened by the second. And the grave looks the med team wore as Bucky gently rested you on the treatment table dug a deep pit in his stomach.

They sprang into action, placing IVs and delivering medications. Scissors glided through your shirt and exposed your broken body to the med team. Bucky knew they’d seen their share of gnarly injuries over the years, but he swore that they recoiled at the sight of your wounds.

With a shake of his head, Bucky refocused. He had to get you out of there- to get you home. He headed for the controls and planned to set the jet in motion. But he made it only a step toward the cockpit before a hand caught his.

“S-stay…” you whispered. “Please.”

His heart shattered. “I’m not leaving you, doll, I promise. I just have to get us in the air, okay?” With great care, he placed a kiss to your hand and set it at your side. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Bucky’s body operated on muscle memory alone as he initiated take off. His mind was occupied, completely and totally, by the sound of your weak voice begging him not to leave. The sound played on a loop inside his brain, cutting him deeper each time. You’d already been abandoned once today; he was certain you feared it would happen again.

With a deep breath and a quick reset, Bucky did what he had to do. He needed to be on his A-game for you, needed to be his very best. Only a few hours ago, you’d trusted someone with your life, and they failed you. Bucky wasn’t about to do the same. He worked carefully to chart the fastest route back to the compound, opting to forego FRIDAY’s proposed path. It kept him from your side longer than he would’ve liked, but less time in the air seemed like the best option. The sooner he could get you to the med bay, with its massive, brilliant medical staff and unlimited resources, the better.

Just as he finalized the flight plan and asked FRIDAY to notify the med bay of your impending arrival, an unsettling sound pulled his focus. It was an ominous beeping, alarming your care team of a sudden, life-threatening change.

Gloved hands moved at lightning speed; voices yelled medical jargon back and forth. And you laid there on the table. No heartbeat. No respirations. Deathly still.

Bucky stood on the periphery, too horrified to get any closer.

He thought it best, of course, to stay out the med team’s way. But knew deep down it was an excuse. He was simply too terrified to lose you. If he got closer, if he saw you struggling to stay alive, all of this would suddenly become real. And he couldn’t handle that.

“Barnes!” A nurse screamed at him, “did you hear me?”

Bucky forced himself back to the present. “No… I, um-”

“She has no pulse- get over here, we need you to do compressions!”

Bucky’s desperate need to help you, to save you, overpowered his fear. And in an instant, he was at your side. He loomed over you, his hands locked together, preparing to help resuscitate you. But once again, his fear reared its ugly head. You were already so badly injured, so weak. And he was far too strong. What if he made your condition worse? What if he-

“Come on!” The nurse yelled at him, “start compressions- now!”

He did as he was told. He pressed into your body with a measured pressure, careful not to crush your chest. But his cautious compressions didn’t cut it. The nurses instructed him to push harder. To “actually compress” your chest- and Bucky followed instructions.

But as he did so, a sickly snapping sound exploded from your body. Bucky recoiled instantly; his face contorted in horror.

“What are you doing? Keep going!”

“I can’t- I think I broke her ribs,” Bucky shouted at the doctor. “What do I do?”

“Keep going!” The nurse yelled, “It happens- just keep going.”

Bucky broke out into a cold sweat. His stomach turned at the thought of hurting you, of causing you even more pain; you’d been through enough as it was. But he did as he was told. With each round of compressions, he swore he created new fractures. He felt every splinter, every crack as he put pressure on your chest.

He wanted to sever every last nerve-ending in his hand; anything to rid him of the sickening sensation creeping through his palm. But if doing this saved you, it was worth the nightmares.

He watched as the two nurses provided your supplemental breaths and tended to your endlessly bleeding wound. The doctor called ‘clear’ every so often, shocking you with a defibrillator in an attempt to restore your heartbeat.

Round after round of compressions, breathing, and shocks passed by without signs of improvement. You remained lifeless, unresponsive. A syringe of epinephrine delivered straight to your chest did nothing. And Bucky felt what little hope he had slipping through the cracks in your ribs. He couldn’t believe he was about to lose you; couldn’t believe he’d have to watch you die. Hot tears blurred his vision and streaked down his cheeks. His legs went numb. At any second, he knew his knees would give out, knew he’d crumble to the floor under the crushing weight of grief.

The doctor deemed the next shock your last, and Bucky almost doubled over.

“Come on, doll, just-” He swallowed a sob, “just stay. Stay. Do it for me, I’m begging you. Please?”

The doctor called one last “clear” and delivered your final shock, only to be met with the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor.

“Sinus rhythm restored,” announced the nurse to Bucky’s left. She appraised the waves on your EKG and gave a nod. “She’s stable.”

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky took a breath. He stretched his tense fingers and did his best to relax the rock-hard knots forming in his shoulders. A new crop of hope bloomed cautiously inside his chest, but he couldn’t allow it to blossom and flourish just yet. You weren’t out of the woods; there was a very real possibility that your heart might stop again. And he wasn’t sure how many times the doctor could revive you before throwing in the towel.

Less than a minute after Bucky’s cautious optimism sprouted anew, a soul crushing sight dashed it completely. A sharp gasp filled his lungs, a shudder rocked his frame. Shades of deep, dark blue bloomed under the skin of your chest. Black and purple splotches stained your sternum. Some spots were already starting to swell. He extended a hand in your direction but recoiled in an instant, fearing he’d hurt you yet again.

“Happens all the time,” one of the nurses said with a shrug. “Believe me, broken ribs are the least of her worries.”

Somehow, her words didn’t make him feel any better. He ached to hold your hand, to sweep a gentle caress across your cheek. But he didn’t dare touch you after what he did. Every glimpse of your bruised, swollen chest sent bile rushing into his throat.

The three dedicated members of the med team worked tirelessly for the rest of the flight. They did everything in their power to keep your condition steady, to maintain the life they worked so hard to save. It brought Bucky comfort to see them staying so close, ready to jump into action if need be.

Bucky, like the med team, hovered. He couldn’t bring himself to leave your side. You seemed too fragile, your condition too tenuous. He counted your every breath, took stock of every beat of your heart on the monitor. Stepping away for even a second felt wrong. He needed to be there if you crashed again, if the doctor needed extra hands. He needed to be there to help.

And if you woke up, he wanted to be the first face you saw.

But you didn’t wake. A groan here, a muscle twitch there- that was all you could spare. And though Bucky wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, he thanked the universe for keeping you unconscious. He knew tsunamis of pain rippled in the wings, waiting to overtake you the second you woke.

Bucky held his breath as the jet landed. Every jarring bump, every vibration, forced his heart into his throat. He feared that even the slightest impact would send you into cardiac arrest. He flicked his eyes from the rising and falling of your chest to the rhythmic flashing of your heart monitor and back again. Nothing changed, no alarms sounded. And when the jet finally stilled, Bucky breathed a deep sigh of relief. He just needed to get you to the med bay for treatment, and this whole nightmare would be over.

He didn’t like being optimistic. It felt like a set-up, like false hope. If he told himself you’d survive and you didn’t, the fall would be that much harder, that much more devastating.

But being realistic wasn’t any better. Telling himself that you were too far gone, that you weren’t going to make it, felt wrong. To him, it seemed like he was cursing you. Like willing your death into existence. Like begging the universe to end your life.

And so, he opted for a neutral mantra. “She’s home,” he told himself. “She’s home. She’s home. She’s home.”

The distance to the medbay felt longer than usual. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever, the double doors to the triage center seemed to grow farther and farther away. Bucky followed your gurney closely, only allowing a few inches of space between the two of you. He couldn’t be separated from you again. He wouldn’t. He needed to be with you every second, watching over you.

A dark cloud of impending doom loomed over his psyche. It whispered to him, telling him that if he left your side, if he let you out of his sight, you’d die. You’d be gone forever. And it would be his fault. He knew it was nonsense, that this was just his anxiety operating on overdrive. But he couldn’t shake the fear. And risking it wasn’t an option.

“No visitors past this point,” a security guard placed an arm in front of Bucky as he tried to enter the triage unit.

Bucky tried to go around the man, watching as the medical staff carried you farther out of reach. “I’m not a visitor, I’m an agent-”

“No agents past this point, then,” the guard rolled his eyes. “Only patients and medical staff. You can have a seat over there.”

A small table sat against the wall, flanked by two chairs. It was a sad, makeshift excuse for a waiting room that operated as a device to keep people from hanging around. But bucky couldn’t be discouraged. He took a seat in one of the chairs, determined to wait there as long as he had to. He knew he’d missed a number of important phone calls by now, and probably several meetings. But he didn’t care; all that mattered was you.

Dread circled Bucky like a buzzard as he waited. It was taking too long- why was it taking so long? How much time did the medical staff need? You were stable when the jet landed, the nurse said so. Why were there no updates? All Bucky needed was a nod, a bit of information. But he remained in the dark, wondering if you died on the operating table.

Maria found Bucky slumped in a chair with a zombie-like air about him. He was expressionless, his gaze hollow. His palms traced the same track up and down his thighs in a never-ending cycle. One look and she knew: something was very wrong.

“Hey,” she called softly, hoping not to startle him.

But Bucky didn’t respond- he didn’t even react. He just sat there, his unblinking stare burning a hole in the tile. An uneasiness enveloped Maria. She’d never seen Bucky so empty, so despondent. As she stared at him, she found herself fearing the worst. ‘Maybe he just received terrible news’ she thought. ‘Maybe he’s grieving’.

“Hey,” she tried again, nudging her foot against his.

He came back to life with a start. A sharp inhale filled his chest, his eyes blinked wildly. But his palms never stopped moving in their endless cycle against his tactical pants. And he never actually looked at her.

“Hi…” he breathed.

Hill took the seat opposite him. She conjured the gentlest, warmest tone she could find, “is everything okay?”

Bucky balled his hands into tight fists and stretched them out again. Maria noticed blood- your blood- crusting under his fingernails and staining his skin. But before she could get a good look, he grabbed the arms of the chair. His palms rubbed fervently against the plastic handles for a moment until they moved to his face. He ran his hands along his jaw, his spiky stubble poking into his skin.

“Barnes, what happened? Are you-”

Finally, his head snapped in her direction, “I can still feel it…”

“Feel what?”

Bucky’s head fell into his hands. He pressed his palms against his eyes and dragged them down his face. Maria watched him fall apart in slow motion. He seemed to be unraveling, one cell at a time. And when he finally spoke, shame made his words almost unintelligible.

“She crashed on the jet…”

“Oh...” Maria did her best to keep a calm, even tone. Her concern for you vibrated in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it free- not when Bucky was moments away from a meltdown. “Is she-”

“The med team needed help. There weren’t enough of them- they needed me to do chest compressions,” Bucky said, his voice low. “And I broke- I crushed her ribs.”

A sharp shudder rocked his entire body. Just thinking of that moment, when his too-strong hands destroyed your chest, was enough to make him sick. To scar him for life. To haunt him. Of all the horrible things he’d done in over the years, this was the worst. He gave his hands a quick shake, hoping to rid his nerve endings of the sensation.

“I felt her bones snapping under my hands,” Bucky’s words dripped with shame. “And I can still… I still feel it.”

“Okay,” Maria said gently. “Well, if she-”

“She was already in such bad shape,” Bucky swiped a tear from his cheek. “And I… I hurt her. I made it so much worse.”

His head fell into his hands once again and did not reemerge.

“Hey, look at me,” Maria gave his arm a gentle touch.

Bucky only shook his head.

“Come on, Barnes, just look at me for a second.”

Again, he refused.

Maria abandoned her chair and sat instead on the small table. She never got this close to Bucky. Usually, she preferred to give him his space. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type- unless you were around. But he was lost in a shame spiral, adrift with no hope of return. And he needed rescuing. She placed her hands on his and gently removed them from his face.

“You saved her life,” Maria said. “Twice. You rescued her from the base, and when the med team needed help, you came through.”

“But I-”

“Did it work?” Maria asked, her tine almost stern. “Did the chest compressions work?”

Bucky nodded.

Maria gave him a shrug, “That’s all that matters. She can recover from a few broken ribs, but if you hadn’t been there-”

Bucky averted his gaze as his eyes filled with tears.

“Hey,” Maria grabbed his face, bringing his focus back to her. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead.”

Maria’s words fought hard against the demeaning voice that lived inside Bucky’s head. It screamed at him, telling him that he shouldn’t believe her, that he was a monster, that he almost killed you. Usually, Bucky allowed his inner demons to run free. He listened to them without pause, believing anything and everything they told him, no matter how vile. But Maria was steadfast and unshakable in her sentiments; she truly believed what she was saying. And by some miracle, Bucky did, too.

“Thanks…” He granted her a hollow smile and a small nod.

Hill sat in silence with him for a few hours. She didn’t try to make small talk or ask what was going on inside his head. She simply existed near him, sharing the space so that he didn’t have to be alone. She ignored important texts and sent every call to voicemail. She knew it was exactly what you’d do for him, if you were able. And she did her best to fill your shoes.

Abruptly, Bucky’s head snapped in her direction. His pulse thrummed against his skin as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. “She kept saying…” he sighed. “She kept saying we needed to talk. She wanted to talk to me about something.”

Maria cocked her head to the side, “About what?”

He shrugged. “I told her we could talk later because there would be plenty of time,” Bucky’s words grew shaky. He found himself near tears for what felt like the millionth time that day. Guilt sucker punched him. “What if… what if there isn’t more time for us? What if that was all we were ever going to get? What if-”

“You’ll get more time,” Maria said with certainty. “The universe has a way of evening things out. You were robbed of time once; it won’t happen again. Plus, you’re deserved some fucking karmic retribution- you’re owed this.”

Bucky wondered how she could be that sure of something so ethereal. But she was steady, solid as a rock. She didn’t waver in her words or add caveats at the end. She, somehow, knew it to be true. And Bucky couldn’t help but believe her.

But when Fury called her for the eighth time, she knew quiet time was over.

“I have to go, okay? Fury can’t do anything without me, he’s hopeless.” She stood from her seat and rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”

Bucky thanked her a million times over and, for the first time, gave Maria a hug. She would never know how much her reassurances helped him. She’d pulled him from the ledge and gave him what he desperately needed: perspective.

In the hours that followed, he let her words play on a constant loop inside his mind. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead,” he heard her say. “You’ll get more time.” The sickening feeling of your bones snapping under his strength never faded, and the fear of losing you still had him in a chokehold, but Maria’s words quieted his mind.

In the sad, empty waiting room, time seemed to mutate. Some of the hours dragged, others whizzed by. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Was it ten hours? Or twenty? He didn’t really care. He’d wait lifetimes for you.

He saw the security guards change shifts once, twice. It was the only thing alerting him to the passage of time, as part of him believed it was standing still. On the third shift change, they told him to go home.

“They’ll call you if there’s an update”, said one of the guards. “It’d probably be a good idea for you to go get some sleep, or something.”

Bucky knew he looked like hell. Your blood left crimson streaks across his face and neck. And the dark circles he usually wore under his eyes were a deep shade of plum. But he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t sleep. Not when your life hung in the balance. Not when you needed him.

A few more hours passed with no news, and Bucky found himself teetering on the edge of insanity. An angry, desperate voice bellowed inside his head. It told him to bust through the doors and find you, no matter what it took- even if it meant hurting people in the process. The gun secured to his hip and the knife strapped to his ankle became eerily attractive. His hands itched to reach for the weapons, to hold someone at gun point until they allowed him to see you. But he couldn’t to give in to the fear, to the violence. It took him years of therapy and long talks with you to stop seeing himself as a monster- and he refused to destroy the progress you helped him make.

A doctor stepped out of the double doors and looked in Bucky’s direction, “Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky was on his feet before he knew what hit him. This was it. After what felt like an eternity of not knowing whether you lived or died, he was about to have an answer. Sweat dampened his palm, his brow as he stood in front of your doctor.

He didn’t know he was even capable of this kind of fear, this kind of agony. And though he was an impossibly strong physical specimen, Bucky knew he’d never be able to lift the weight of the grief that followed your loss. He knew that, if you died, he’d spend the rest of his life dragging himself from place to place, unable to stand, unable to push back against the overwhelming, oppressive force of losing you.

Your doctor spoke quickly and professionally about your condition, but the words turned to mush the second they reached Bucky’s brain. The combination of medical jargon and pure panic made their meanings imperceptible. But one phrase managed to cut through the fog of Bucky’s anxiety and exhaustion: “you can see her now.”

And just like that, Bucky took off. His fatigued body did its best to carry him through the halls, stumbling every now and then on the smooth tile of the hospital floors. But he didn’t dare slow down. He had to get to you.

By the time he reached the door to your room, he found himself shaking- almost shivering- with anxiety. He knew you were alive, of course. Knew that the doctors had been successful in saving your life. But something in him doubted their handiwork. Something in him swore that if he didn’t get to you in the next half second, you’d flatline. Again.

He could practically feel his brain rattling around inside his skull, his teeth chattered against one another. And the sharp tremors in his hands made it nearly impossible to get a grip on the door handle. Panic and frustration coursed through him as the he tried again and again to gain entry to your room with no luck. A strangled sob forced its way out of his chest and caught the attention of a nurse- one of the nurses who helped keep you alive on the jet.

“Hey…” Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s shaking hands. “Need some help?” Before Bucky could answer, she’d abandoned the medication she was prepping, discarded her gloves, and made her way to his side.

“Here, let me.” Her soft, sympathetic tone was almost too kind; Bucky’s eyes blurred with tears. She turned the door handle and gestured for Bucky to go inside.

His “thank you” was for more than just the door.

Bucky took a few steps inside and drew in a sharp breath; he’d never seen you in such severe condition. Over the many hours that Bucky waited for you outside, all of your bruises grew darker, more menacing. They stained your throat, your face, your arms. He didn’t even want to think about the ones on your chest- the ones he caused. Dried blood crusted in your hair and formed a path down the side of your face. It sat caked under your fingernails and rested in the creases of your palms. Thankfully, your gunshot wound was covered by gauze and concealed by your gown. But knowing it was there was enough to make Bucky sick. He, of course, witnessed and inflicted, his fair share of carnage over the years. But he knew your wound would haunt him for years to come- simply because it was yours.

All he wanted was to be near you. To sit at your bedside and hold your hand. But he didn’t dare to get any closer. Electrodes attached a dozen wires to your chest. IVs sat lodged in the crooks of your elbows, in the backs of your hands. Machines and monitors kept track of your vitals. And who was he to disturb this fragile, vital ecosystem? What if he accidentally pulled out one of your IVs? What if he detached a wire by mistake? He’d already hurt you once today, he wasn’t about to do it again.

He, instead, opted to stand at attention. A few feet away. For your safety. He didn’t touch you, didn’t even say your name. He simply stared at you, counting your every breath.

An hour- or maybe two- passed by with him like this. Nurses checked on you, doctors poked their heads in. And every time, they told him he was permitted to sit by your bedside. But he just shook his head. Sure, slipping his hand into yours, being close to you- it would provide him with incomprehensible comfort. But he couldn’t, not when you were so severely injured.

After the third hour, Bucky feared his sanity was slipping. A wicked voice lodged deep in his psyche suddenly awakened. It whispered to him, taunted him. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he was asleep in the waiting room. Maybe you didn’t survive. Maybe…

And he would’ve believed it, had you not snapped him out of the vicious spiral.

“Buck?” He feared he’d never hear you voice again, but there it was. Hoarse and weak- but yours.

Bucky flew to your side. He cradled your face gingerly in his hands, completely consumed by the need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were real. His palms laid flush against your cheeks, his thumbs sweeping over your skin. And in an instant, the sickly sensation of your snapping bones vanished.

A hurricane of tangled thoughts and emotions crashed over him. He had so much to he wanted to say, so much he wanted to confess to you. But the words refused to arrange themselves properly. Suddenly, Bucky wished he’d used his ample time in the waiting room to better organize his thoughts. He wished he’d sought out a pen and a scrap of paper and used them to plan and articulate his sentiment. But even if he’d found the supplies he needed, he wouldn’t have been able to jot a single thing down. Not with his shaking, unsteady hands.

Anxious words and broken sobs got stuck in his throat and formed a garbled, unintelligible mess as they left his mouth. But it was the best he could do. He stared at you, waiting for your response.

“I, um…” you looked at him for a long moment. The haze of head trauma, blood loss, and pain killers made you foggy. You did your best to trace your steps back through Bucky’s words, certain that your condition was the cause of your confusion. But after a significant pause, you came up empty. “Sorry, I- what?”

Bucky slid one of his hands into yours and gave a soft laugh. “Sorry. I tried to say-” He sat quiet for a moment. What had he tried to say, exactly? He wasn’t sure. With a small shake of his head, he re-rerouted. “Um, it doesn’t matter. Here, how’s this:” He cleared his throat and spoke with the sharpest pronunciation possible. “How are you feeling?”

Your laugh- Bucky’s favorite laugh- bubbled up to the surface. But regret swallowed you whole as pain shot through your head, your chest, your side. The hurt radiated through your entire being. It rendered you breathless, and left your face twisted in an agonized grimace.

Bucky didn’t like how long it took you to recover from the small chuckle you shot his way. A pang of worry shot through him. “Don’t exert yourself, okay?” He swept a thumb across your cheek, “you don’t wanna tear your stitches or...” He cleared his throat, “aggravate any, um, broken bones.” Bones that he broke.

“No, I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut for a long moment before opening them again. The pain slowly receded. “I’m good, I’m okay. I just- breathing is hard. I forgot how shitty it feels to have broken ribs.”

Bucky nodded. His teeth sunk into the smooth flesh of his cheek. A metallic taste coated his mouth. He didn’t want to tell you the truth. Didn’t want you to know that he was the cause of your severe pain. But you deserved to know, didn’t you? With a deep sigh, he opened his mouth, intent on telling you what really happened. But you cut him off.

“Thank you, Buck. For coming to get me. I really thought I was…” Hot tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision. “I thought that was it for me, you know? And I just want you to know how-” you sniffed, “how grateful I am.”

Bucky left your side for only a second, retrieving a box of tissues from the counter across the room. He was back in no time and swept a tissue across your cheek to catch your tears.

“I know we always say that we have each other’s backs but you… you meant it,” you said. A small smile pulled at your lips, “thank you for meaning it.”

Bucky nodded. He did his best to keep his breathing steady, to stop himself from falling apart at the seams. He knew exactly what it felt like to be left behind, to wait for your last moments- alone.

“I wasn’t gonna leave you there, doll. I couldn’t.”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah, I- I wish my partner had felt the same way…” The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. It sliced though Bucky’s chest. “I didn’t think he would ever do something like that. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

The mere thought of Jake brought a familiar rage to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He didn’t understand how anyone could be so callous, so uncaring- so indifferent to the well-being of others. The part of him that swore off unnecessary violence remained quiet as the rest of him imagined Jake’s demise. He wanted your disloyal partner to suffer. To squirm and squeal and regret that he ever left you behind. But that could wait- you were the priority.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect him to be that kind of person,” Bucky sighed, “he seemed like a stand-up guy.”

Silence filled the room as you thought over Jake’s desertion. His abandonment hurt. It stung in places you didn’t expect. You’d taken Jake under your wing and did everything in your power to be the best leader possible. All you wanted was to help him. To set him up for success.

And after working alongside Bucky for so long, you’d forgotten that disloyalty to one’s partner was even an option.

“He probably panicked,” you tried to rationalize. “And then once he realized what he’d done, maybe he…”

There was no rationalizing this.

An ugly realization slithered into your mind. “After he left, I think he probably hoped I’d just die… that way I wouldn’t be able to give my side of the story.” The weight of Jake’s actions hit you like a train. Rivulets of warm tears rolled down your cheeks, only to be swept away by Bucky’s gentle hand. With a small shake of your head, you did your best to banish the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Wallowing would only make you more miserable. And you didn’t need emotional pain on top of the physical agony that already plagued you.

“Well, joke’s on him,” you shrugged, “cause I’m still alive.” Pain radiated through your chest, bringing a grimace to your face. “Kind of.”

Bucky didn’t understand how you could just dismiss the bad feelings. Couldn’t understand your propensity for levity. Your partner left you for dead without a second thought- and yet, you found a way to joke about it. It was something he’d always admired about you, something he wished he was capable of.

You gave a strained laugh, “I can’t wait to see the look on Jake’s face when he finds out that I didn’t die.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it. It left his mouth without his brain’s authorization.

“But you did.”

He wished to take the words back, but it was too late. They hung in the air, just out of his reach.

“I…” you struggled to grasp Bucky’s words. “I what?”

This was not the time- or the place, or the way- to tell you the truth. But he didn’t have a choice. His clumsy words made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

“You, um…” Bucky didn’t want to think about what happened, let alone say it out loud. But he owed it to you to be honest. Especially after Jake had lied to you about being a trustworthy partner. Bucky scratched at the stubble on his face, ran a hand through his hair. Anything to delay the inevitable. But he couldn’t put it off for long. “Your heart stopped- you died. On the jet.”

Only one word fell from your lips, “Oh…”

“And while I’m at it, I might as well tell you that…” Bucky took a deep inhale. He was in too deep now. And keeping this from you any longer felt like lying. “That your ribs are broken because of me.”

A quizzical look crossed your face, “what do you mean?”

“I mean… the med team was short staffed on the jet. There were only three of them. And when you crashed, it was- it was an all hands on deck situation.” He flashed back to the moment when the alarms sounded. When your EKG flatlined. A shudder ran through him. “They needed me to do chest compressions. And I- I didn’t want to hurt you, but the nurse said I wasn’t pushing hard enough to actually help you. And when I pushed harder- I broke your ribs.”

Bucky searched your face for something- anything. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. But he found nothing. Your expression was as neutral as they come. He feared that something lingered just below the surface. That once you fully processed his words, you’d erupt into a perfect storm of disgust and disappointment.

He told himself to wait silently until you made up your mind. But the outburst exploded from his lips before he could stop it. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know I’d never want to hurt you, I would never do anything to hurt you. But I… they told me I had to push harder. Or it wasn’t going to work. And I just wanted it to work, I wanted you to be okay, and-”

It took almost all of your strength to raise your hand and place a finger to Bucky’s lips. He fell silent.

“Buck, it’s okay.”

He tried to form a rebuttal, but you cut him off.

“You didn’t have to rescue me, but you did. No questions asked, no hesitation. You saved my life by getting me out of there. And you saved me again by helping the med team.” Your hand drifted from Bucky’s face and landed in his palm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your palm. His eyes fell downward. You could almost see the shame eating him alive from the inside.

“Hey,” you intertwined your fingers with his. “I can handle a few broken ribs.”

“No, I- I know you can. I just…” A sad smiled flickered across his lips. “I feel terrible. You went through a lot. And I just don’t like knowing I made it worse.”

A long silence filled the room. You’d seen this side of Bucky more times than you could count. And you knew him well enough to know what followed. He was going to feel bad- terrible, actually- about this for a while. There was no accelerating the process or absolving him of his guilt. No amount of reassurances could save him from it. He just had to sit with it. One day, the weight would diminish. But it was going to take time. And that was okay.

You gave his hand a squeeze. “I thought your voice was a hallucination, you know.”

Bucky lifted his head.

“And when you came into the room, I actually thought that was a hallucination, too.” A smile stretched across your face, “I mean, I thought I was losing my mind.”

Bucky gave a half-hearted chuckle. He didn’t want to think about you in that room by yourself. About you struggling to tell what was real.

“But then you touched me…” You raised your hand and brushed it across your cheek, mimicking him. “And that’s when I realized that you were real- that you were there.” You fell quiet for a moment, lost in the memory of Bucky’s rescue. “It was like, in that moment, I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t scared of the pain. I wasn’t scared of dying. I was just scared that…”

“What?”

“You have to promise not to laugh,” you told him with an authoritative tone. “Cause I know it’s corny, or cheesy, or whatever.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky drew an X over his heart. “I’m not gonna laugh at you.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, sizing up his promise. But, of course, you knew Bucky would never tease or ridicule you about something like this.

“Okay, fine, I um… I was scared that I’d never see you again. If I died, I mean.”

Bucky’s lungs emptied. He couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to speak. A sudden ache ripped through his heart as it splintered and shattered into a million pieces. To know that you thought of him in what you believed were your last moments somehow ripped him apart and put him back together all at once.

Your voice cracked. Tears filled your eyes. “I was afraid that we’d already run out of time. I was afraid that we weren’t going to get any more.” A few soft sobs escaped from your throat, followed by a pained groan. But you pushed passed the throbbing in your chest. “But I was so relieved. Because I got to see you one last time. It was the most intense sense of peace I’ve ever experienced.”

Bucky struggled to hold on to his composure. He felt himself crumbling, weakening under the weight of your words.

“But then I realized- I realized I’d never get to tell you. And you kept saying we could talk later, but I didn’t know if there would be a ‘later’. And when I blacked out, I was so full of…” You shook your head ever so slightly, sending a few tears dripping onto your cheeks. “I had so much regret. Because I needed you to know.”

“To know what?” Bucky leaned in close, searching your face for any inkling, any clue. “Doll, it’s ‘later’. Tell me- whatever it is. You can tell me now, it’s-”

Your lips met his in a soft kiss. In it, everything you’d ever felt for him came rushing forward. Admiration. Longing. Lust. Obsession. Adoration. Love.

A sting of pain jolted through you as your split lip brushed his, but you didn’t care. His hands found your face, your fingers curled into the collar of his shirt. It was always supposed to be this way.

When the two of you finally separated, Bucky simply stared at you. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he knew how.

“I love you, Buck. I’ve loved you- for so long.” A huff left your chest, “So. Long.”

Still, Bucky remained silent. Nerves began crawling through you like vines, twisting their way through every fiber of your being. But you owed it to yourself, and to Bucky, to tell him the truth.

“And I just… I know how you see yourself. And I know you don’t think you’re even worthy of my friendship, let alone love. But I was so anxious, cause I thought you’d never know the truth. I thought I’d die without getting to tell you. And you’d live the rest of your life thinking that you’re not worthy, that no one could ever love you. But I- I love you. I just needed you to know.”

The silence made your ears ring. Bucky’s face still wore a mask of bewilderment. And you feared you’d ruined everything.

“You don’t have to say it back, though,” you said. “I’m not gonna stop being your friend if this is an unrequited thing.”

Finally, Bucky came back to life. He rolled his eyes and let a scoff escape his lips. He leaned in close, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours. “Unrequited? I broke every SWORD rule and policy. Abducted medical staff. Stole a jet. And went on an unauthorized mission. All to get you back. I didn’t even know if you were alive, I just- I had to bring you home.”

He closed the small gap that remained between your face and his and granted you warm, gentle kiss that tasted like home. “I did all that- and you thought there was even a chance that I didn’t love you back?” Bucky gave a playful roll of his eyes, “you don’t know me at all, sweetheart.”

You returned his eye roll. "Well, you're a really great friend to me. And you always have been. So, I didn’t take a rescue as a proclamation of love,” you gave a strained chuckle. “I just thought-”

“I’ve loved you for…” Bucky thought back over the course of your friendship. The day you first met, the first time you helped him through a panic attack, the time he made you the ugliest cake in the world for your birthday. He saw his life in two parts: before he met you and after he met you. And he so preferred the after.

“I don’t even know how long,” he shrugged. It was almost automatic. His feelings for you didn’t need a slow, gradual build up. They descended upon him all at once, like the world’s most beautiful avalanche. “It’s been a long time- an embarrassing amount of time, probably,” he laughed.

“Oh, so we’re both cowards then,” you shot him a wink. “Too afraid to tell the other how we feel.”

Bucky nodded, “It seems that way…”

“But you weren’t too scared to steal a jet and run into possible gun fire?” you quipped.

“Nope. Didn’t even think about it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to find you.”

You’d never experienced a love- a commitment- like that. It sent a rush of warmth into your cheeks and somehow eased the pain plaguing your body. You knew in your heart you would’ve done the same for Bucky without a second thought. But knowing that he was so fiercely determined to bring you home felt almost unbelievable. You had the proof, though, right there in front of you. This man, who you loved, loved you too. And loved you enough to risk his life for you. It wasn’t something you’d ever ask him to do, and you knew you’d never have to. He’d do it without hesitation. Without reservation. He’d walk through fire for you if it meant bringing you home.

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idkwhatever580 · 22 days

Text

Holy Shit!

Pairings: G!P Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: During the ceremony for Y/n and Natasha’s wedding, all of Y/n’s and Natahsa's bridesmaids/men slip Polaroids of Y/n's boudoir shoots throughout the night which leads to a hard time for Natasha.

Warnings: slight mentions of family trauma I guess (not having a dad), SMUT, P in V (Natasha has a penis), rough sex, boudoir pictures, unusually dominant reader (it mentions that nat is usually top), toys, teasing, swearing, praise, orgasm denial, degradation, wife kink sort of?, mommy kink, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I hope y'all like this one! I've been thinking about how to approach it for a while now and I think I'm ready. Also, this is going to be my first time using my laptop to write so if it is a little weird, I apologize, I'm still figuring out everything from the switch. I'm sorry for the random pov switch. I was all mixed up, but I'm too lazy to fix it. :)

Sidenote: -Y/f/i = your first initial -Y/n/n = your nickname -Detka= baby - Dorogoy= darling

Natasha and I just had the most amazing night of our lives, we got married! but the fun is not over yet.

I have devised a plan that has been in the works for a few months. Honestly, I knew I wanted to do this for Nat even before we proposed to each other. Although I only started truly planning it out after we got engaged.

I went to a boudoir photoshoot. Naturally I needed someone to take pictures. I didn't want Nat to be mad that someone else saw my body, so I asked Wanda, my best friend who has seen my literal everything (one time she literally had to pull my tampon out because I broke both my arms and Nat wasn't home to help), and she helped me get the best pictures ever. Then, I moved onto the second phase of my plan, recruiting.

Natasha and I already had our list of bridesmaids/men in place, so I made sure to use all of them. Natasha had four and I had five.

Natasha's bridesmaids/men are Clint as her Man of Honor, and Yelena, Tony, and Steve.

My bridesmaids/men are Wanda as my Maid of Honor, Kate, Bucky, Carol, and Thor (even though he doesn't quite understand "earthling" weddings yet.)

They all thankfully agreed, even Yelena which was surprising, and I picked out the best photos and put them in order. So, my plan was set and now all I need to do is trust our friends to get the pictures to her. Which I don't even have to worry about that, Wanda has the list and all of the pictures, so she is going to hand them to the set brides' person at the set time and they will deliver it secretly to Nat.

She's gonna be so hard by the end of the night, which is technically my plan. Of course, we've had sex before, and we already plan on fucking later, but she definitely is going to fuck hard tonight.

We are getting to our venue for the celebration after the wedding now and Nat and I have been together the whole car ride, which wasn't that long, but we went for a ride together in the limo so that everyone could get there before our grand entrance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step out of the limo carefully and walk hand in hand to the building. Even though you have already seen the inside and all the decorations, you are still blown away by the beauty of it all.

You and Nat have a planned entrance where she walks in first and then you walk in and "fall" into her to the song Fallin' for Ya.

Everyone cheers for you all, and you both stand together to talk to people. You lean over to speak in Nat's ear so she can hear over the noise the second you see Wanda slip the first photo to Thor, who remembers exactly what to do, thankfully. "Nat, I'm going to talk to Wands real quick are you okay to stay here for a sec?"

She nods her head and says back, "Of course detka, don't keep me waiting too long now"

You smile and nod your head and leave to Wanda, but not without giving Nat a soft peck on the cheek. Thank God for Lip stain, you think, or else both yours and Nat's lip color would be all over your faces by now, especially from that limo ride.

You walk up to Wanda and say "oh my gosh, I'm so scared! What if something goes wrong?"

She giggles at your stressed face knowing there is nothing to worry about, and says, "Hey! Deep breath. Don't be scared, Thor has practiced many times, he is going to get it right."

You nod and keep talking beside Wanda as you subtly watch your wife engage with her friends.

Thor finally walks up to Natasha and casually slips her the first polaroid, and you can't wait to see the look on her face. All of the people Nat is talking to are part of the plan so they know what is happening.

She furrows her eyebrows when she looks at her hand to see that Thor has given her a polaroid upside down so she can't see it. She looks up to ask him what it was, but he was already long gone, so she flips it over not suspecting a thing. She takes one look at the picture and her eyes go wide. She immediately presses the picture to her chest and looks up to find you smiling at her innocently as if she didn't just get handed this.

You send her a soft wave and go back to "talking" with Wanda, and Natasha checks to make sure nobody is behind her and looks again. She smirks at the picture and slides it into the hidden pocket in her dress that was made for a gun in case she needs to protect you, but now it holds something even more valuable to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has been about fifteen minutes since Nat received her first "gift" and even though she asked about it, you acted stupid and didn't tell her anything saying, "What picture? I didn't take any pictures other than the ones after the ceremony with all our brides' people."

You are now about to cut the cake which is when the next picture is going to be given to her. You decided that every time she gets a pic, the next one is going to be even better than the first. It will really rile her up you think. So as you two walk over there, hand in hand, you walk by Tony who hands her the next polaroid as she passes by him. This time she knows not to look until she is at the cake table where nobody is behind her.

She has an arm around your waist and she sneaks a peak at the next photo.

This one makes her huff out a breath, and she looks over at you who is "oblivious" to the thing she just saw. She squeezes your side as she slips the photo, once again, into her pocket, and you smile slyly at her. She leans over to whisper, "You know what you're doing Y/n."

You both pick up the knife and you say, "Doing what? Cutting the cake?"

She rolls her eyes at you and you both cut the cake and feed each other a slice. Then you both go back to the table that only you and her sit at, and you add, "Of course I know what I'm doing, why else would I do it?" Then you go back to eating your slice of cake acting just as innocent as before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You just had your first dance, and it was beautiful, the song you both picked together was a testament of your love and it brought tears to everyone's eyes.

Then, you decided instead of a father daughter dance, to have a Maid/Man of Honor dance. You danced with Wanda and talked and laughed, while Natasha and Clint did the same.

It was beautiful really. You had decided to do this because, even though Natasha has Alexie, you wouldn't have been able to participate since your dad is no longer in your life. The dance with your best friends meant infinitely more than a dance with your fathers would have anyways, and thankfully Alexie wasn't hurt by this. He realized he wasn't a good "dad" in the beginning of her life, and it wasn't his position.

As the dances concluded, Clint smirked at Natasha, and he reached into his suit pocket to pull something into his hand and slipped another polaroid into her hand.

People start joining on the dance floor to have some fun and Nat looks down at the photo and says, "Holy Shit!" maybe just a little too loud making her blush. She shakes her head as Clint laughs and walks off to his wife and kids, but not before Nat punches his shoulder softly, and then she glares at you.

You smile cheekily at her as you walk to her for another dance. You start slow dancing together and say, "Hey baby, whatcha doin?"

She smiles softly at you and says, "Thinking about my beautiful wife and what she and I are doing later tonight."

You make a fake surprise face in the shape of a soft 'o' and say, "Is that right?"

She giggles into your neck, and it is the most beautiful sound you could hear and hums, "mhm"

You smile as you spin her around the dance floor and say, "Well thank you for the compliment baby, but whatever you're thinking is going to have to wait. We promised each other we wouldn't leave earlier than we planned, remember?"

She groans and nods her head in slight defeat mumbling, "I know we did."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are now both talking to Natasha's family about what is next for you both. Melina starts out with, "So, when am I getting some grandbabies?"

You and Nat both exchange glances and look back at them and you say, "Well... I uh-" You freeze not knowing what to say.

Thankfully though, Natasha is there for you and says, "Y/n has decided she does not want to give birth. I obviously can't give birth given my situation, and I won't be disrespecting my wife's wishes, so we are going to take it slow as we weigh our other options."

You smile softly knowing that you picked the right girl to be your wife. She literally always has your back. Finally, having composed yourself you cut in as well and say, "We also have decided that we want to live our lives together before we settle down. We want to have the right parenting mindset you know."

Melina and Alexie nod their heads and smile Melina replies, "Well I don't care how or when it happens, I just want a grandbaby." As she is speaking, Yelena inches closer to Nat and then she 'holds' her hand briefly, but in reality, she is slipping the next picture into her hand. Nat's smile widens at the thought of another picture and Yelena walks off to go find Peter and bother him.

Natasha feels like she needs to look at this picture, but she can't if her parents are standing right in front of you, so she smiles when a song she knows comes on and says, "Mama, Papa listen, it's your song! Go dance!" She ushers them off and then turns to you to look at the photo.

This one makes her giggle, so you quirk an eyebrow and say, "What's the problem? Don't like it?"

She widens her eyes a tiny bit and shakes her head so much that you laugh and say, "Alright calm down, you'll mess up your hair"

She smiles and says, "I love it so much, I was just laughing because you could totally be wearing this under your dress since it's white."

All you do is smirk at her and it takes a second for her to process, but she gets it and her mouth falls agape just a bit. You simply walk off and Wanda comes over to say, "Come on! It's time for the flower toss!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Both you and Natasha agreed on doing a flower toss, only one is for the guys, and one is for the girls. Your reasoning being that the girls can get a little rough and you wouldn't want any of the boys to get hurt or anything like that. The boys can be very sensitive. ;)

So Natasha does the first toss to the boys, which includes Valkyrie as well since they are feeling more masculine today. (Like a king should). Thankfully nobody got into any fights since they're respectable people. After a bit of laughter, Clint comes out victorious and says he and Laura are simply going to renew their vows. Then he hands Laura the bouquet, and she smiles kissing him softly earning an aww from everyone.

Your toss is next and Loki decided to join in on the girls side since they are feeling more feminine. (Queen shit). The girls didn't get in any fights but they were definitely more aggressive than the boys. Scary, but the one who comes out with the bouquet is surprisingly Carol, who looks over at Val and smirks.

While your toss is happening though, Bucky walks up to an unsuspecting Natasha as she watches the girls' chaos enfold and he gives her a sly smile. By now she has caught onto him and says, "You too?"

He nods his head and says, "You never know which one will be the last." and then he slides the polaroid into her hand like a drug dealer and walks off like nothing happened.

The toss ends right around the same time that her exchange with Buck ends, so you're already making a b-line for her to see her reaction to this photo. She shields herself with your body to look and she swiftly turns the photo.

She groans as she slips yet another keepsake in her hidden pocket. You smile as she leans her head on your shoulder, which to anyone else would look like she's just cuddling up to you, but you know better. So you lean really close to her ear and whisper, "Are you hard baby?"

She simply nods her head. Thank God she fell in love with a decently poofy dress that doesn't show the contours of her dick. Especially since most people don't know about her little friend down there, not that it's any of their business, but they don't know because she always tucks it for events and missions. However, most of the main Avengers know, having all walked in on you two at least once. So, you walk to your table and sit down so she can have a break. You giggle at her when she's taking a few breaths and say, "What? You act like you haven't seen me naked before."

She glares at you and says, "No, it's not that. It's the fact that my lovely beautiful wife keeps catching me off guard, and might I also add the fact that she is so incredibly hot that I can barely handle myself?"

This makes you blush softly, and she smiles at you. You two share a sweet moment even through the dirty part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully Nat has had a few minutes for her... stuff to calm down, because Wanda picks up the mic and starts speaking, "I'd like to make some toast please."

You both giggle at the joke she stole from Agnes in Despicable Me 2, one of the movies that brought both you and Wanda childlike comfort during hard nights, while everyone else quiets down for the speeches. Wanda continues, "We are going to start our speeches now, so could Melina and Alexie please come up?"

Both of Natasha's parents stand by you and Melina starts, "I was not in Natasha's life for a very long time, so I don't feel like I am in a position to give a grand speech about yada yada this and that, but I do want to say, from the moment I saw you Natasha, I knew you were good. I knew you would become successful, and I knew you would excel in life. I am so happy that you have found love with Y/n, because you two are the perfect match, and I could not be more honored to be your mother-in-law Y/n."

She passes the mic to Alexie who, up until now, has had a stern face on. "Natasha, Melina already said all of the words I had for you, but she did not speak on this. Y/n, when I first met you I thought that you were never going to marry my daughter. I didn't think you were worthy of such a woman as Natasha, but as you got to know me more, my view on you changed. You kept pushing with her family even when you could have lost hope on us. You proved that you are willing to do anything it takes to get her, and I now see that you are more than worthy of Natasha's love."

He turns into a sobbing mess before he can finish anything else, and their words make you cry, but you try to keep from sobbing since you spent so much on your makeup. Then the speakers continue to go up and give their speech, make you cry, and then move on.

Clint gets the mic eventually and he takes a big breath and then starts, "When I met Natasha, I was on a mission to eliminate her. I was about to take the shot when we made eye contact, and something in me said no. I just could not pull the trigger, because what I was told I was going to be killing was an assassin, a robot, a tool. What I saw that day was anything but those things. I saw a girl who needed out, who was hurting, and that day turned into one of the best days of my life. We hid in vents for so long making sure that she was safe from the people who had her. We did nothing but play tic-tac-toe, rock paper scissors, and plan. We planned on how I was going to tell Fury that I did the exact opposite of what he told me to do. In reality I was actually more scared of Agent Hill, she's very scary, but I digress... All I really need to say is, as an archer, whenever people ask what the best shot I ever took was, I am honored to say it was the one I didn't take."

When Clint hands the mic over, there is not a single dry eye in the whole venue. Clint goes to Nat, and she hugs him so tight you think that he might die from lack of air. When they pull away, she kisses his cheek and whispers something in his ear, while he wipes her tear away and nods his head. He goes back to his seat and Wanda steps up to start her yap session.

"Y/n/n, when we met at the compound, there was something about you that was different than everyone else, you seemed so familiar, and I just could not pin it. We became great friends, but it took me about four months to realize why you seemed so familiar to me. One day when I was hanging out in your room, you opened your jewelry box in front of me and showed me a bracelet. It had little beads on it that said W+(Y/f/i). I burst into tears when it hit me. This girl,"

She points to you before she continues, "Was the girl that saved my life. We were friends from way back when we still lived in Sokovia. We had made these matching bracelets the day that we lost our families. It was also the day I lost her. Or so I thought. We were all hanging out in the living room together when it happened. Y/n felt shaking from the first few bombs and she told me and Piet to hide under the bed while she went to find her parents and make sure they were safe. Then the bombs went off. I thought we lost her. So we mourned both our parents and my best friend that day. It wasn't until I found out it was her all these years later that I knew she was also safe from the bombings but was taken. HYDRA took her from our lives, but the universe brought her back to us, and I could not be more grateful for her. I owe my life to her, and I have made sure she knows how deserving she is of happiness as her best friend, and now it is Natasha's turn, as her wife, to take what I have done and take it a step further."

This time it was you who is bawling; Wanda goes to hug you, and she whispers into your ear, "I'm so, so proud of you." Which only makes you want to cry more, but you pull away and take a labored breath as Wanda cleaned up your face.

All of the main avengers and people in your lives have gone except for Steve, who is finishing up.

Steve hands the mic to Wanda and walks to you and Natasha to "hug" y'all, but in reality he is actually slipping yet another polaroid into Nat's hand.

She rolls her teary eyes at him and you both, and takes a glance at it before having to look away knowing her erection will just come back.

You smirk at her and say, "Ooh that one was fun, but you'll like the next one even more."

She groans and says, "There's more?"

You giggle softly and say, "Why of course there is more my love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda decided to add a little fun into the night and do the who knows them better game. What you do is you sit on a chair and Natasha sits with her back to you and you both have a shoe that represents one or the other, and whoever did the thing first you raise that shoe to see if you know each other.

So, Wanda starts with the first question on the list she made, "Who said 'I love you' first?" Both of you raise your shoe and they all 'aww'

Wanda passes the mic to Tony who asks, "Who is the clingiest."

The crowd is surprised when both of you raise Natasha's shoe. The mic is passed to Yelena who says, "Which of you is the most romantic."

This time, Natasha raises your shoe, and you raise hers, which makes everyone giggle a bit. The game continues to entertain the crowd, and Kate has the last question, "Who loves Halloween more?"

This one is tough since you both love Halloween so much, but you ultimately decide on Natasha, and Natasha puts up both shoes to signify it being a tie.

The game is finished now, and you both tell Kate, that the Halloween one was probably the hardest to choose. Though, you know it is about to be Natasha.

Kate laughs and hugs Nat and pats the next picture into Natasha's chest before walking away casually. Natasha's face heats up at the mere thought of your next image and she secretly takes a look at this one.

This Picture has her jaw on the floor. She loves the scream movies entirely too much, and the image of you in a sexy cosplay is seemingly never going to leave her mind. She can feel her cock spring back to life, and it almost hurts at how hard she is.

Natasha seems to snap and can't take it anymore, so she grabs your hand and starts taking you to the bathroom without trying to raise too much suspicion which is exactly what you knew would happen, so you look over at Carol and nod your head to begin her mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nat pulls you into the hallway and can't even make it to the bathroom before she has her lips on yours. You kiss her back softly but push her away before she can go too far. "Natty baby, what do you think you're doing?"

She tries to kiss you again, but you push her off of you again, "Detka, I don't think I can make it much longer."

You fake pout and say, "But you promised! You pinky promised me we wouldn't leave early."

She stomps her foot throwing a bit of a tantrum and says, "I promised before I knew you were pulling this shit!"

You smirk and say, "Come on baby, only thirty more minutes, you can make it. Just think, if you wait, the reward is going to be so much better, yes?"

She grumbles under her breath and Carol comes in right on queue saying, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything ladies."

Both of you shake your heads and Carol comes by to say, "Y/n, Wanda is looking for you."

You smile at her and thank her before kissing Nat on the cheek and leaving swiftly. Natasha and Carol stay behind and chat a bit. "You knew about this bullshit?"

Carol smirks and says, "What bullshit?"

Natasha groans and then Carol says, "Of course I am in on the bullshit, I hope you like this one." She pats Natasha's shoulder and then says, "Oh, lighten up, at least you have something to look forward to when you leave tonight.

Natasha already has her hand out ready for the next picture of you and Carol carefully puts it into her hand before swiftly exiting the hallway.

After Natasha sees this one, she thinks she might burst. She can't help but stare right into the eyes of the most beautiful person in all the multiverses. But she also stares at your body as well.

A thought pops into her mind and she thinks, the bathroom is right there and I still have a few minutes...

but ultimately she shakes her head knowing that if you found out she jerked off before your honeymoon, you'd surely not let her cum the rest of the time, so she walks back into the reception.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the people have left by now, only a few stragglers, the avengers, and close family are left. You both decided to keep the drinking on the low for this night, not wanting any unplanned things to happen.

Both of you are very big on consent, and the fact that you can't consent when under the influence. You also both know that you want to remember tonight in a good way.

You're having a few slow dances with some of your friends and Wanda is the last one before the last dance with you and Natasha. Wanda spins you around one last time as the song closes out, and Nat is waiting for you to be handed over to her.

Wanda smiles at Natasha and goes to hug her, while they are having a sweet moment together, she smirks and says, "I hope you're ready for this one, I had so much fun taking these pictures."

Nat rolls her eyes and lets Wanda slide the last photo into her hand, but not before saying , "So you're the side hoe?"

Wanda giggles and nods her head, "Did you expect any less?"

Natasha sighs and shakes her head, "I'm glad it was you and not some random person."

Wanda smiles and nods her head saying, "She definitely saved the best for last."

Raising her eyebrows suggestively at Nat while she walks off, you walk up to Nat and hold out your hand saying, "You ready for our last dance?"

"Oh, I'm more than ready, just let me see this last one."

Natasha almost can't tear her eyes away from this one, she is immediately painfully hard, and you have to take the polaroid and put it into her pocket yourself saying, "Natty, people are watching, we have to dance one last song so we can leave."

Nat nods her head and stars slow dancing with you, but you know exactly what to do. You rest your head on her shoulder and make your bodies slightly uneven so that your thigh/hip area is slightly pressing into Natasha's hard on, making her whimper into your ear.

You can't deny it, you're incredibly wet right now, but Natasha has had a much longer night than you, and you're only going to make it seem longer. You lean close to her ear and whisper softly. To everyone left, it looks like you're just saying something cute to her, but you know better. "Baby, when we leave, we are not having sex in the limo. It is our wedding night, and I don't care how hard you are, we are waiting the ten-minute car drive, got it?"

The way you speak is so soft and tender, yet it is firm and leaves no room for complaints. So Nat lets out a soft whine, but she ultimately nods her head and says, "Okay."

You smile and continue to feed words into her mind, "You're so hot, it's hard to not just jerk you off right here baby. I swear when we get home, I'm letting you do whatever you want to me."

Natasha's knees almost give out, but she somehow manages to keep dancing with you, and you both spin each other around. You two have a sweet moment again, temporarily ignoring your hunger for each other, dancing around the floor until the end of the song where you start waving goodbye to everyone and you head off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to the villa you're both staying at before your flight tomorrow to your honeymoon destination is full of teasing and groping. You start massaging Nat's cock through her dress, and she moans softly and whispers at you with pleading eyes, "Detka, I- I thought you said no sex in the limo?"

You smirk and say, "I said no sex. I didn't say I wouldn't touch you, but I guess if that's what you want."

You take your hand off of her with a knowing smirk. She widens her eyes and huffs at you, "I don't know which is worse, you touching me, or not touching me."

You chuckle at her and shrug your shoulders, "You wanted to play by the rules. I don't make them, but I do listen to you... sometimes."

Nat snorts at your quip and you guys laugh a little, being a cute couple. Then, the limo pulls into the beautiful villa where all your things were previously put for your weeklong honeymoon, and you nod your head at Happy, who in turn, smiles and says, "Have fun! Wear protection!!"

Both of you laughing at him, and Nat starts puling you toward the door. You open the door and go to walk in, but Nat's hand pulling you backward makes you fall into her. "Nat what are you doing?"

She smiles and picks you up bridal style, and carries you carefully inside, closing the door softly before setting you down and she abruptly shoves you against the door, her lips immediately on yours. "You don't know how bad I need you right now dorogoy."

You smile into the kiss letting her have a moment of dominance before you take it back. "Come on dear, let's go upstairs and get these damn dresses off."

You both carefully undress with each other's help, soft touches here and there, before hanging up your dresses knowing you'll be too tired to do so later.

All Natasha can do is stare at your body, the white lingerie making the experience even better. You grab her face to make her give you her attention, and you give her a dominating stare and a contrasting soft toned voice, "Be a good girl and lie down on the bed please baby."

She quickly leaves your hold as you go to the closet and grab the things you set out for her. She usually takes charge, but sometimes you like to have your fun. This special occasion has you feeling dominant.

You saunter over to her with a set of ropes and a new toy she has never seen before. She furrows her eyebrows before you shush her, reminding her not to worry, your tone taking a temporary softness. "Alright dear, you know we have safe words. I know they were originally set up for me, but you know that you can use them too right?"

She softly nods her head at you with excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of what you could do to her.

You smile softly, running your fingers softly along her torso. "Can you remind me what they are, so I know you remember?"

She nods her head and recalls your safe word system. "Red is stop completely, yellow is slow down or need a break, and green is go."

You nod at her softly and say, "Good job dear, now can you tell me a color?"

She smiles softly and says, "Green. So, very green."

You chuckle softly tilting your head back and say, "Okay, I'm gonna tie you up now, is that alright?"

She nods her head with quick, "yes" to follow.

You sit just below her hard cock while tying her arms to the bed, knowing she is staring at how close you are. You lean forward a bit and bump it softly on accident, but ignore it otherwise.

Once you're done tying her arms up you move to her legs and start explaining what you're going to do. "I got a new toy just for you tonight, I know you've already seen it, aren't you excited?"

She nods but softly says, "What is it?"

You finish tying her leg and look up at her with a devious look in your eyes. "You're going to find out soon, but first..." You crawl up to her member sticking up so high, and you smirk with your lips so close to it, "I have to get you ready."

You lean down and softly lick her tip, knowing she likes that, and then you slowly take her whole length in your mouth. Gagging at how far back she reaches, which in turn, makes her twitch in your mouth. You bob your head on her for a bit longer before pulling away. A string of saliva and precum goes from your lips to her tip and she whines. You slap her thigh and harshly say, "Quit your bitching, I've barely started and you're all needy for me."

She goes to defend herself, "But you were teasing me all night.'"

You glare at her and say, "oh yeah? If you want me to stop teasing you, then i suggest you listen and stop whining."

She nods her head almost letting a whimper out, but she composes herself while you reach behind you to grab the new toy you mentioned. "Natty, I got you this, it's gonna make you feel so good."

You hold up a fleshlight and she widens her eyes knowing it will feel good. You start to rub her prepared cock onto the opening and say, "Are you okay with this darling? Do you want me to make you feel good?"

She nods her head but quickly corrects herself with a "yes ma'am" when she sees your eyes.

You slide the fake pussy over her shaft and she tightens her fists as she feels the tightness overwhelm her. Moans start pouring out of her when you start sliding it up and down with a slow pace that picks up quickly.

After only three minutes of silent torture, she feels the knot in her about to explode and she says, "Y/n please, can I cum?"

You look at her with an evil smile knowing this is exactly where you wanted her. "Oh baby, is this making you feel good? You need to cum so fast?"

She nods her head aggressively and you almost groan at how submissive she looks right now. "Oh, does this make you feel so good? Better than me?"

She widens her eyes knowing she is in a trap now. Your hand still moving the toy up and down her dick. "N-no! Y-you."

You cut her off mocking her, "y- y- you what? You want to cum so badly because the toy is making you feel better than your wife ever could?"

Her hips jerk when she hears you say 'wife' and she moans out a no, but you're relentless, slowing down the toy to make the pleasure unbearable, knowing this slow pace won't make her cum.

You lean close her her and say, "If you want to cum so bad then do it, but remember, if you cum now, you won't get to cum in my pretty little pussy for the rest of the week."

Tears prick in her eyes at the thought of going a whole week without being able to feel you around her and she says, "No! Please no! I need you!"

You smirk and say, "Then don't cum until I say you can slut."

You pick up the pace again making her moan and jerk her hips, you know she can only last so long without exploding, but you're testing her limits tonight. She suddenly gets another overwhelming urge to cum again so she is trying to do anything to get you to let her or stop. Words start flowing out of her mouth desperate for either a release or a break, "Please! I need to cum so bad! I'm begging you. Please mommy! I've been so good, I just want to cum!"

You frown and slow down a bit while tucking some of her sweaty hair behind her ear, knowing that Natasha only calls you mommy when she is feeling really submissive, so you check on her a bit, her whining at the pace decreasing, "I know darling, I just need you to honestly give me a color."

She quickly blurts out, "Green! Please mommy!"

You smile at her confirmation, and pick up the pace once again, "Oh baby, mommy is just making you feel so good right now, isn't she?"

Natasha nods her head but lets out a yelp when you slap her thigh, "Wring answer. It's this toy making you feel good. You love the thought of fucking this thing. You're just such a dumb little slut because you want to cum so bad into it. It's like you have your big cock in another girl's pussy. You want that? You want your dick in another girl and not your wife?"

She shakes her head again, words spewing out of her at a thousand words per minute "No mommy! please I need you! I need your pussy so bad! I'm so close!"

You glare at her and pump harder slightly squeezing the fleshy toy when you see some precum leak out the hole in the top so that she feels it tighter. "Then you're going to hold it like a good girl. I know you can make it a little longer baby."

She finally lets tears fall from her eyes at the pain of having to hold back to listen to you, but after a little bit you soften up and decide to swiftly pull the toy off of her, which in turn makes her raise her voice at you crying for stimulation, "No mommy! Please not again! I can't take it! I can't!"

You hush her getting into position slightly hovering over her red-hot dick. "Shh shh honey, I know I know, Mommy's right here baby, she just needs to adjust to you really quickly and then we'll keep going alright?"

You sigh as you take her whole length into your pussy, Nat whines and her hips jerk involuntarily, making you moan softly. You lean down to kiss her softly and then start bouncing up and down making a lewd noise come from Natashas throat. You chuckle and say, "You like that baby? Is it better than the toy? Come on don't be shy now, tell me baby."

She nods her head, trying to find the words in her mushy brain, "Yes mommy," she huffs out with an exasperated breath, "I love you so much detka, you're so much better than the toy, I only want to make you happy."

You pout at the fact that even though she's so terribly desperate for you, she still wants the best for you. You also notice the lack of the word 'mommy' and it instead being replaced with 'detka' indicating that she is slightly more in control and less submissive now.

You continue to bounce and thrust you hips into hers which makes moans rip out of the both of you. You can feel Nat twitching inside of you a clear indicator that she wants to come so quickly, her last orgasm having been torn from her grasp. You tilt her head down from it's thrown back position to have her look at you. The look of pure love and need in her eyes making you swoon. "Hey darling, you're doing so good for me, I'm gonna keep going, okay? You can cum inside me at any time."

She pouts at your tone, and says, "Can you please be rough with me? I liked it."

You smirk at her confession, you became tender when you thought she was done with it, but apparently, she still has some in her. So, you nod your head and whisper seductively, "Okay, if you want rough then you're gonna have to beg me to cum."

Excitement reinstalls in her features as you start to almost jump up and down on her cock, and she groans saying, "i can't hold it much longer, please let me cum!"

You moan when she hits a spot in you, honestly, you're quite impressed with how long she's made it. You're already close which means she made it at least double if not triple the time you thought she would. So you smirk down at her and shake your head. "Not good enough baby, you've got to do better than that

Your words being broken up since you've started moaning so much. She goes to beg again but you untie her quickly and keep talking, "Touch my clit baby, be a good girl and help me out please."

She immediately starts rubbing circles on your clit, ignoring her sore wrists, bringing you to the brink, which makes you clench down on Nat. This sensation makes her stutter, but she persists, determined to make you proud. "Please, I- you- ugh... You feel so good squeezing me; I feel like I'm gonna explode."

You nod your head to let her continue, "You're so fucking tight and warm, nothing could compare to you. Nothing, nobody could make me feel as good as my wife can."

This makes you clench extra hard and a guttural moan slips past your lips which sets Natasha off. She empties her seed into you, and this triggers your orgasm. All you hear is a weak, "I'm coming" fall past her lips and you feel her ejaculate into your pussy.

The feeling of euphoria surrounds the both of you as you both ride out your highs. Eventually you slip off of her, falling beside her trying to catch your breath.

Natasha, however, is so blissed out that you come back to earth and untie her before she can even see or think again. The first thing she says is, "Wow, just wow."

You giggle and cuddle up next to her saying, "You did so good for me baby, I'm so proud of you."

She smiles and turns on her side saying, "Thank you baby."

You smile as she leans in to kiss you. After sharing a soft kiss, she tries to deepen it, and moves to get on top of you, but you softly push her away saying, "You don't have to do another round baby, I pushed a lot of your limits today."

She sits up and glares at you saying, "It's our wedding night, not just mine. So, of course I'm going to take care of you baby. You must be crazy to think otherwise. I'm not just going to let you sleep without coming."

You giggle at her and she quirks a brow at you saying, "What's so funny huh?"

You smile and say, "I guess you were so out of it that you didn't even notice."

She frowns and says, "Notice what?"

You smile giving her a soft peck on the cheek, "Natty, I already did cum. In fact, I came so hard that I even squirted a bit onto you."

You point down at her abdomen which does, in fact, have your essence all over it. This realization making her blush, "Oh... I guess I was really out of it huh?"

You laugh at her timidness and say, "I don't know about you, but I can't walk..."

She smiles and gets up to go clean herself before coming back with a washcloth to clean you as well. Her tender hand making sure to not hurt you or make you uncomfortable from being so sensitive. Then she comes back to cuddle with you on her chest, and you whisper into her ear, "You did really impress me tonight, you know?"

She smiles and sighs, "Really? How so?"

You look into her eyes and say, "You lasted way longer than I expected you to, especially after the whole night of teasing."

She smirks and says, "Maybe I've leveled up since I have a wife now..."

This time it is your turn to blush, and say, "I guess that could be true."

She smiles as she settles into an almost sleep state, "Yeah, definitely true. My wife makes me a better person, in every way. I love you."

You smile and whisper an 'I love you too' back to her only to find that she is already asleep. Before you drift off to dream land you smile softly, thinking about her words.

"My wife."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Holy shit indeed. this thing took forever. I actually have no idea how long it is or how many words but I do know that I am done with this finally T-T... College is kicking my butt already, so I'm sorry if I post less. Please tell me what you thought of this! it makes my day to see people liked my work.

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@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist!!! I hope you had a good time reading :3

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha x reader #black widow #mcu #avengers #fanfiction #fanfic #wedding fic #natasha romanoff x reader smut #smut #wlw smut #x reader #one shot #fluff #female reader #fem reader

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veltana · 6 months

Text

Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #possessive!bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #posessive!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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whitexwolfxx310 · 4 months

Text

|| Baby Mine ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader || Bucky x y/n

Summary: Bucky comes home from from a mission and finds you sick. You make an appointment at the medical bay expecting a routine visit only to find out some pretty surprising news.

Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, minor talk of options pertaining to, morning sickness, a disgusting amount of fluff, and a small sprinkle of spice at the end just because I felt like it.

Word Count: 3323

A/Ns: First and foremost, I would like to apologize for my hiatus. It was not intended and I hit a writers block. With that being said, I do have a decent amount in my drafts and have been working on getting some new things out there!

I would like to say a special thank you to @lil-darhk who gave me some encouraging words that I really needed to hear & helped get me back on here. ♥️

This is a ONE SHOT. This is not part of my BBWWS. I am still working on that but this is something I have been thinking of for a while and just felt like writing about. I know that a pregnancy troupe is not for everyone. (Personally, I love it and I'm not sure if I will write it into my other storyline.) SO because of that....I give you this. I hope you all enjoy it because the idea of Daddy Bucky to me is just 🤌🏻💋

Waking up to the smell of fresh ground coffee was always a tall tale sign of Bucky being home. Missions can be unpredictable. He can be gone for a few days, to a few weeks, and sometimes even months at a time. Luckily, this time he had only been gone about a month and a half.

Excitement took over as you forego your usual procrastinating in bed stretch to run out of the bedroom. Opening the door, the aroma was heavenly- as if a coffee shop had replaced your kitchen overnight. But your eyes immediately fixed on Bucky who was wearing a smirk while plating two separate stacks of pancakes.

“Breakfast, doll?” His voice as smooth as the warm syrup flowing down from those pancake stacks.

Running and jumping to wrap your arms around his neck was your response. Bucky chuckled, holding both arms out wider so he didn’t drop the plates. He put them down gently onto the counter so that his arms would now be only consumed with you.

“I missed you too.” You don’t have to look up from being buried in his chest to know that he’s smiling, it’s in the lighthearted tone of his voice.

Leaning back slightly with his arms still holding you, he looks into your eyes and plants a petal soft kiss on your lips.

“How come you didn’t wake me up when you got in?” You frown slightly looking up at him.

He shakes his head slightly and shrugs, “You just looked so… peaceful. I couldn’t bare to wake you up. At least, not without sustenance,” Bucky laughs.

Shifting your eyes from Bucky to the pancakes and back, your lips tug in each corner. “Smart man.”

His cooking always felt like home. It was filling, delicious, and you could almost taste the love it was made it with. “Mm,” the small noise escapes low in your throat as you take the last bite. Looking across the kitchen table, Bucky is slumped in his chair, arms folded with a warm smile as he watches you. “What?” The question comes out as a half joke and half concern.

Shaking his head slightly the smile grew. “Nothing, doll. Just missed you is all.” Leaning forward, Bucky rests his elbows on the table continuing to stare a tad bit more than normal.

“You’re acting weird.” You say, adjusting in your seat feeling slightly awkward.

“So what have you been up to while I was away?” He completely ignored your statement, asking an easy and lighthearted question.

“Um..” you start, breakfast starting to feel suddenly heavy in your stomach. “I uh-“ your teeth start to clench down as you swallow hard at the pooling saliva in your mouth. “I went out with Nat-“ your brows furrowed, starting to have difficulty with getting the words out. Bucky’s face quickly contorts to concern as you continue to fight the inevitable. “and her sister for some…s-some drinks-“ the word makes you gag.

Almost as if you channeled some super soldier serum, you pushed back from the table and ran- praying that the pressure of your hand over your mouth will be enough insurance to get to the toilet. It barely was. Breakfast came back up violently, loudly as you kneeled in front of the porcelain king. Even when you thought there couldn’t possibly be anything else to throw up, your stomach wrung on itself, forcing up every last drop of bile.

Breathing heavily into the bowl, skin now glistening with cooling sweat, you realize that your hair has been pulled out of your face. Your eyesight, now no longer blurry, sees Bucky sitting next to you; his right hand holding your hair back in a make shift ponytail and his left hand on the nape of your neck, the coolness of his metal hand being your favorite thing in the world at the moment.

“I’m sorry…” your sob echoed lightly in the toilet. “I’ve never been hung over like this before,” you sit back on your knees, grabbing some tissues to wipe your mouth. You bring yourself to look up at him through hooded and puffy red eyes, feeling instantly embarrassed. Bucky gives you a small reassuring smile as his hand gently rubs up and down your back.

“I’ve had the Russians drink me under the table a few times too. C’mon…” He helps you off of the floor, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

A warm bath, some fresh comfy clothes and a plain cup of tea seemed to make the nausea subside.

“I knew I shouldn’t have drank last night,” you say, looking into the lightly steaming mug. “My stomach hasn’t felt right in a few weeks. I actually have an appointment this afternoon in the medical bay, but I didn’t know you would be home. I can cancel it-”

“What time is your appointment?” He cuts you off,

“Um,” you look towards the wall and squint at the clock. “Actually in 45 minutes,” you laugh softly at the realization.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He offers.

“And miss your debriefing? Why, Sargent Barnes, that’s highly unlike you.” Even with not feeling great you can’t help but give him shit. This is the normal

Shaking his head softly he lets out a small laugh. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture, “but call me if anything comes up, okay? I’m worried about you.” Bucky’s voice is soft and sincere as he leans in and plants a small kiss on your forehead. His eyes hesitate, locking on yours for a moment. Leaning back in, he presses his lips to yours. “I love you. So much,”

“Love you more, Bucky.” You smile back up at him.

Sitting on the exam table in nothing but a medical gown, you swing your legs gently back and forth while gently nibbling the tip of your thumb as you wait for the provider.

You jump at the sudden knock at the door. In walks the new physicians assistant for The Compound, a young and beautiful woman who looked like she was straight out of school.

“Hi! My names Bree and I’ll be working with you today. According to the nurse who did your intake, you’re here for-“ she scrolls through your electronic chart on a tablet, “some abdominal issues. Tell me about that,” she sits down on a stool, listening intently.

“It’s.. really not a big deal,” you start, she keeps quiet waiting for you to explain in more detail. “I don’t know,” you start to fumble with a few loose strands of hair. “I’ve just felt this sort of… heaviness? It hasn’t gone away and is just always sort of there?” Your voice is unsure, feeling self conscious as you describe this silly little symptom that you felt the need to make an appointment for. “This morning I got sick. Well, I went out drinking last night, so I’m assuming I’m a little hung over.” Your words start to sound like your rambling.

“Hmm,” Bree says in response. “When was your last period?”

“Um,” the gears start turning in your head as you try to backdate events, plans that had been interrupted because of aunt flow. “About 4 months ago?” It probably wasn’t on purpose, but you could see the clinicians eyebrow raise a centimeter in question. “It’s not what you think!” You quickly try to defend, “I’m on the pill! My periods have always been irregular which is part of the reason I’m on birth control in the first place.”

“Okay,” she responds, skeptical. “And you take the pill religiously?”

“Yes,”

“Everyday?”

“Yeah…”

“At the same time?” Bree’s eyebrow inclines just a little more.

“Well,” now she has you questioning everything that you’ve said. “I always have an alarm on my phone and try to take it the same time everyday.” That makes you feel better, justified.

“Have you been sick recently? Aside from this morning, any need for any prescriptions, antibiotics?”

“I had bronchitis, but that was… god months ago?”

“Okay,” she says flatly, “so we’ll just go ahead and do a minor work up to see if we can figure out what’s going on. The first thing I want to do though, is a pregnancy test.” Even though you could feel your face change, Bree quickly added, “Routine stuff. It’s one of the bases that we always cover early on.”

You suddenly become hyper focused on the urine sample you left on the counter top, as asked by the nurse. Bree takes out a small, flat test from a nearby drawer and uses a pipette to transfer the fluid.

It could have been 30 seconds or 20 minutes, but the idea that pregnancy was even a remote possibility has your insides feeling like they’re folding in on themselves.

“Okay so,” Bree starts, getting your attention. “The test did in fact, come out positive. Since your cycles have been irregular, I’d like to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are and then we can talk about options. Just go ahead and lay back on the table, feet in the stirrups.”

"Positive?" You repeat. "But... What? How?" It comes out breathless.

"Well, sometimes antibiotics can actually cancel out the effects of birth control. We try to advise women to not be sexually active as the body might seize the opportunity to ovulate and result in an unplanned pregnancy. How about we just take a look and go from there, okay?" Bree says just a little too cheerfully as she pats the stirrups.

Following her directions is the only thing you’re able to focus on. Going through the motions of laying down, putting your feet up and opening your legs. Bree’s voice is a murmur mixed with a high pitch ringing as you look up at the ceiling tiles, counting each spect while she sets up the portable sono machine.

“Just a little pressure,” she says, guiding the wand like probe, looking at the screen. “Okay. So, judging from the size… I’d say you’re close to about 9 weeks, give or take a bit. Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” She asks, sweetly. And it’s the first time you’re able to look at her since lying down. Bree patiently waits for your answer with a warm smile. You reluctantly nod your head.

The room fills with soft, muffled whooshing. “It’s so fast. I-is that okay? Is everything okay?” You’re searching her face for any hint of something being wrong. In return, Bree just nods gently as she keeps her smile, still examining the screen.

“A fetus’ heartbeat is a lot quicker than ours. Everything looks perfect actually. Would you… like to see?”

“Yes, please.” You didn't hesitate with your answer this time.

The screen gets tilted towards you and your eyes start darting all around looking for the baby. Your baby. At first you don't see anything. It doesn't look like photos you've seen on Instagram of pregnancy announcements. But then, in the middle of what looks like a black balloon, is a bean with limbs. In the center of this bean is a lively flicker. Bree uses her index finger to point to the screen.

"There's the fetus' arms and legs," she points to the extremities, "and here," her finger gently taps on the pulsing center, "is the heart."

The whooshing matches the pace of the flicker; lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. Hearing the heartbeat in synch with the pulsing on the screen causes your own heartbeat to match for a moment.

So this is love.

After a moment, Bree removes the probe and rips a paper from the ultrasound machine. "Here's some pictures for you," she hands them to you as you sit up on the bed. "I want to see you back here in three weeks for another check up... unless you want to discuss other options?" You shake your head. "Do you have any questions for me?"

“No, not right now.” You’re solely focused on the pictures now in your hand. Even though the image is burned into your brain, holding a physical copy has some how made it more real.

The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind. There was no possible way that you’re actually pregnant. Even with the new noticeable symptoms and bathroom counter littered in double pink lined tests, it still seemed so unbelievable. That’s not even the hardest part. How am I going to tell Bucky?

Just as the reality starts to set in of having to tell the other adult who is directly involved, the front door to the apartment opens.

"Hey, doll!" Bucky calls loudly from the hallway, the thumping of his boots following his voice. "Sorry that the meeting ran late. I figured we could order in tonight. What about that Thai place you like?" He waits for a response while buzzing around the kitchen, no doubt making himself coffee for the dozenth time today. "Doll?" The question echoes through the quiet apartment.

"I'm in here," you acknowledge softly from the living room couch. Bucky pokes his head out from the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief.

"There you are," he starts walking towards you. "If you tell me what you would like for dinner, I'll call it in and then-" his voice and steps stop abruptly. "Hey... you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." You answer, obviously distracted.

"That doesn't sound too convincing," Bucky hesitated, looking you over and taking a few steps closer.

"I-I have to tell you something." Your tone is soft, scared. You’re fidgeting with the edges of your sweater sleeves.

“Is it something the doctor said?” His voice is softer now, reluctant and afraid. While his piercing, cerulean blue eyes continue to search yours for the answer, wide and terrified.

“I-“

Should I have gotten balloons? Made him open a box with one of the pregnancy tests or a cute onesie inside? Bake a damn cake?

“Y/n?!” Bucky didn’t yell but definitely had to get your attention. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?!” He pleaded. Why were the words so difficult to say? Maybe because it hasn’t been said out loud yet. Or that it’s still so shocking. Or maybe that verbalizing it will just make it that more real. You turn on your heels and run to the bathroom.

“Y/n!!” He calls after you, but you know he’ll be just a few steps behind.

Picking up a handful of the positive tests off of the vanity counter with your heartbeat pounding in your ears in combination with his heavy footsteps getting closer.

“Seriously! What is going on-“ Bucky is flustered as he steps into the entryway and stops abruptly at the sight of you facing him, holding the tests fanned out.

“I’m pregnant.” There it is. You’re holding your breath, waiting to see what he’ll say. Aside from contraceptives, you’ve never had any kind of discussions pertaining to a family.

His face softens as he takes a step forward, his eyes hyper fixated on all the double pink lines. Bucky’s chest rises and falls deeply now. “You’re… pregnant? Not sick?” He asks to clarify, being cautious.

“Morning sickness, apparently”, a small laugh escapes and it surprises you. “But other than that, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

The ‘we’re’ part catches his attention. He’s looking into your eyes once again, searching. But, for what?

“Is this… something you want? With… me?” He suddenly sounds so adolescent and anxious. Who can blame him? This took you both completely by surprise. Knowing Bucky, he would support you in whatever you wanted. Whatever decision you thought was best for you, your body, your health in every aspect, he would respect and advocate for. He is being cautious with his response to the news until he knows what your decision is.

Putting the tests down, you take both of his hands into yours and take a deep breath.

“Bucky, if you had asked me this morning, I wouldn’t have known what our future would hold. But knowing what I know now… I want this baby. I want to be a mom and for us to be a family. That being said, I know that this is something that we never talked about. If this isn’t something you want, I underst-“

You’re suddenly cut off by his lips pressing into yours. It feels like a weight has been lifted as Bucky’s arms gently wrap around you to bring you closer. Kissing becomes increasingly difficult around giggles and the obnoxiously big smiles you’re both wearing.

When your lips finally part, Bucky’s eyebrows are raised in excitement. His eyes are darting around your torso as if the news would suddenly show physical changes on your body.

“I can’t believe it…” he breathes, “I actually get the chance to be a Dad-” The word comes out almost as a choked sob. My heart.

Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out the ultrasound Bree had given to you earlier, holding it up for him to see.

"Look, our baby's first photo!"

Bucky takes the picture as gently as if someone were handing him an actual newborn baby. He just stares, probably confused as to what he was looking at similarly to you just a few hours ago.

"I know it doesn't really look like anything right now- but I go back in a few weeks and-"

"Are you kidding?" He looks up from the black and white photo to meet your eyes, a watery sheen coating his own. "This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life." Bucky says softly, as if to himself, looking back down at the picture. And he's smiling. A genuine, heartfelt smile.

That night was the closest he had ever held you in his arms. The two of you made up for lost conversations and started planning for your future and what it held as you laid in bed. Bucky talked about how he wanted to build a crib instead of buying one and was curious what the appropriate amount of time was to wait until you could both start telling everyone. Excitement was an understatement for this man.

"Can I go with you to your next appointment?" He asked, in a hopeful tone as his fingers traced along smooth, soft circles around your belly button. You giggle, wincing at one specific caress.

"Hey! That tickles! But, of course you can. You can come to all of them. I was... kinda hoping you would?" In return, your tone holds the same anticipation.

"I wouldn't miss it." Bucky's palm flattens against your belly as he places a kiss against your temple.

"Don't get used to that," You say looking down. "We're going to start growing and getting bigger any day now." You fake a frown, although there is a small part of you that isn't necessarily faking.

"Hmm." A low hum vibrates from the back of Bucky's throat as he shifts his body down along yours.

His fingertips skim the hem of your sleep shirt before pulling it up and exposing your stomach. The coolness of the air makes your abdomen tighten, but is soon replaced with petal soft kisses. "When you say 'grow', I hope you mean grow more beautiful by the day." Each firm press of his lips feels like its igniting your skin on fire with the newfound sensitivity. Your toes start to dig down into the mattress.

"Because, y/n..." Bucky repositions himself onto his knees, one now conveniently pressed in-between your legs. The pressure alone makes your heart rate spike and has you borderline panting. He hovers over you, "There isn't anything in this world I find more beautiful or more attractive than my girl carrying my child." He holds your gaze, intense and primal- more than you've ever seen.

"Do you understand?" Bucky asks with a raised brow. You nod hastily and he grins in response. "Good girl. Now, let's see if those rumors about hyper sensitivity are true. Judging by how you're writhing under me and the wet spot on my knee... I'm really going to enjoy the next few months."

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist! Requests are open!

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @skyf-7

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moonyflesh · 4 months

Text

🐾 Cat Scratches - [James “Logan” Howlett x Reader]

WARNINGS: lots of fluff, brief mention of neck kisses, some suggestive comments but nothing past PG

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (Wolverine, MARVEL/X-MEN)

🐾 .*.. 🕯️

Logan laid comfortably on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your lower back and hips as he buried his face into your abdomen, the bare skin of your tummy visible just slightly underneath your sweater.

Lazily scrolling through your phone, splayed out across his bed with him on top of you, your fingers trailed over his upper shoulders, scratching the fabric of his white compression shirt, rubbing his sore muscles from a long day of training and battle practice.

As your fingers trailed upwards mindlessly on his back, your manicured nails finally reached the nape of his neck, teasing the edge of his hairline.

Scrolling down further through your instagram, you let out a soft sigh of content as your fingers finally buried into the hair on the back of his head, eliciting a low rumble from the back of his throat.

You perked up at this, glancing past the dimmed screen of your device, an eyebrow quirked upwards at his reaction.

“You alright, Lo?”

You muttered out, a small, curious smile tugging at your glossy lips, damp from your teeth gently biting at them out of unconscious habit.

“Mmmh,”

He responded in a low hum, leaning into your fingers as you smiled, a small, amused chuckle leaving your lips at his fingers that slid lower on your back, cupping the backs of your thighs with a slightly possessive grip.

You felt a soft, warm press of his chapped lips against your stomach, just above your panty line, and a small laugh left your lips as he buried his nose further into you, inhaling without hesitation. In response, your legs opened slightly underneath him, wrapping them around his broad midsection with a light squeeze.

Preferring the man in front of you opposed to the celebrities on your phone, you dropped it at your side, letting it become lost in the fluffy, unkept sheets next to your form as both your hands wrapped around his head, burying your fingers into his scalp.

A low, animalistic-like growl left his lips as you scratched through his hair, meeting the place behind his ears, where you knew he was most sensitive.

Tracing over the area where his jaw connected to his ear and neck, you let out a low hum in response, tilting your head propped up on one of his pillows to the side, your eyebrows knitting together lightly in curiosity at his pleasant reactions.

“Feels good, bub. Right- mmh. There.”

Your eyes narrowed at his borderline inappropriate hum, and you nodded, wordlessly continuing to scrape through his fluffy, unkept hair.

“I didn’t take you for a cat, Logan,” You teased quietly, a small vibration leaving your own form, similar to that of the buzz of an old stereo.

“Don’t mock me, sweetheart. Can’t help it,”

He shot back, his furry eyebrows knitting together as he finally shifted, pulling himself up further, allowing his face to move from your stomach to your collarbone, trying desperately not to go full deadweight on you, knowing he’d crush your frail form.

“Plus, ever since you got yer nails done-”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you raked through his head of hair once more, pushing his face into the warm skin of your exposed neck, muffling any protest from him.

“Stop talking, James. Sleep.”

You effectively hushed him, a small smile pulling at your face as he grumbled out something along the lines of ‘mm. Whatever,’ and ‘fine.’

You felt him pepper a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth teasingly biting down on your exposed shoulder, before lapping at the new mark with his tongue, admiring his work with your taste.

“G’night, bub.”

You smiled at his subtle acceptance to your demand, your fingers frozen in his fluffy hair and partially in his long side shaves, nodding.

“Goodnight, kitty.”

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hazza-bear-care · 1 month

Text

Finish

You reveal a secret to Bucky that he's adamant on fixing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, nipple play, squirting

~~~~~~

You snorted a laugh at the antics of the Impractical Jokers, soda just about to flow through your nostrils as Joe flung scoops of mashed potatoes on the plates of strangers in a fancy restaurant. Bucky chuckled as well, popping a chip in his mouth, trailing his hand over your thigh.

You shot him a look out of the corner of your eye as you took another swig of your Coke, trying to ignore how Bucky's fingers felt rubbing over the thin materials of your leggings. You readjusted, leaning into Bucky's touch and laying your head on his shoulder, laughing hard as Sal ended up falling to the floor during a challenge.

"Are you alright?" Bucky murmured, his metal fingers still trailing over your skin.

"I'm alright, just enjoying your company." You responded, ignoring the goosebumps that popped up in the wake of his touch.

"I'm enjoying yours too, sweetheart. It's rare that we get the entire compound to ourselves." Bucky's fingers dipped past the elastic waist of your leggings, sliding them over the expanse of your hip. He paused there for a moment, petting your soft skin with his long Vibranium fingers as you laughed again at the Jokers on the screen. As he flexed his fingers again, you couldn't help but look up at your boyfriend; his beard had grown past the scruffy stage, his long brown hair curling at the tips as it dried from the shower he had taken about thirty minutes prior. His gorgeous blue eyes were glued to the television, and his pink lips were curved into a smile as the Jokers argued over who won versus who lost in order to receive the punishment.

"You're staring, honey." Bucky commented, rubbing your hip bone once again.

"Sorry, Buck. You're just so pretty and you smell so good." You whispered, burying your nose into his red Henley and inhaling his manly smell of teakwood and bourbon. As he chuckled, you crawled into Bucky's lap, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and running your fingers through his hair.

"Honey, if you wanted to fool around, all you had to do was ask." Bucky joked, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist, pinning you to his lap. You ground down onto his lap with a smirk, peppering his face with kisses.

"Can we fool around?" You mutter, biting your lip in anticipation.

Bucky laughed, a deep rumble in his throat as he swept you into his arm and upstairs to his room, capturing your lips with his as he walked. He placed you gently on the bed, kneeling over you and holding your face so carefully as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. A moan escaped your lips as his tongue danced with yours, your small fingers tangling in his damp hair.

Bucky pulled away from you, stripping off your shirt and snapping off your bra in one swift movement. He settled in between your legs and pulled your leggings and panties off, kissing up your thighs and torso before smashing his lips against yours once again. Another moan slipped past your lips, laying back onto the mattress as Bucky crawled over you and pinned you to your spot on the bed.

Once he had you positioned the way he wanted, Bucky stripped bare, his hard cock smacking against his stomach once freed from the restricting confines of his briefs. He tackled you, lips once again pressed to yours as a heated make out session began. Your fingers tangled in his hair as your teeth and tongues clashed, strings of saliva connecting the two of you. He once more pulled away from your intoxicating lips, trailing his mouth down your neck and leaving bruises in his wake. He wrapped his lips around your left nipple while his flesh hand pinched your right, causing your jaw to drop as another whine fell from your mouth. In a blink, he switched his assault on your tits, releasing your nipples with a pop as he slithered further down the bed and planted himself between your legs.

Sex with Bucky was better than anything you could have imagined, better than the smut you had read in books, yet something blocked you from actually achieving an orgasm.

"Buck, wait." You called, snapping your legs closed before he had a chance to touch you. As soon as you closed your legs, Bucky pulled himself away from you, kneeling at the foot of the bed with a look of confusion on his face.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Bucky asked, worry buried deep in his icy blue eyes.

Your chin quivered as anxiety pooled in your belly, covering your watery eyes with your hands as you muffled a sniffle.

"Baby, talk to me, please." Bucky crawled up to the head of the bed and wrapped you in his arms, allowing your tears to soak into his skin as you cried.

"It's nothing. It's stupid." You whined, hiccupping between sobs.

"Honey, it has to be something. Are you hurt? Did I do something?" Bucky asked, running his fingers through your hair as you continued to cry.

"No, Bucky, you didn't do anything wrong. This is a me problem."

"Please, let me help. Talk to me, baby."

You took a deep breath, pulling your face out of Bucky's neck and wiping your face. His thumbs followed, swiping some rogue tears that you missed. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he patiently waited for you to find your voice and tell him what's wrong.

"I love you. You know that, right?" You asked, glassy eyes finally meeting his.

"Of course I know that. I love you too, honey." Bucky answered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I love you. I love how you treat me, how you look at me, how you fuck me. But...." You trailed off, biting your bottom lip anxiously.

"But?" Bucky pressed, heart hammering in his chest. Were you breaking up with him? Were you in love with someone else?

"I don't think I've had an orgasm. Don't get me wrong, Buck, you're amazing in bed and you do everything I love, that turns me on, and I've been close before, but I just..." You couldn't finish your sentence as the tears started again. You felt worthless, broken. Here was this gorgeous man who loved you, cherished you, worshipped you, and you couldn't even give him an orgasm in return.

"You just can't get over the edge?" Bucky finished for you, wiping your tears again as you nodded.

"I can't get out of my head. I can't relax enough to just, let it happen. I can't do it by myself when you're gone on missions, I clearly can't do it with your help. I think I'm broken." You clarified with a loud sob, burying your face in your hands again as Bucky ran his hands over your back, pulling you back into his arms for a bone crushing hug. He let you cry for as long as you needed, shushing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your cries eventually slowed.

"Look at me." Bucky ordered, gripping your shoulders to pull you away from him, looking at your tear-soaked face. "You are not broken, honey. You are perfect, beautiful, strong, and smart and I love you with all my heart and soul. This is something that I'm positive I can help with, but only if you'll let me. We don't have to do anything right now, okay? We can get dressed, go back to watching TV, and we can pig out for the rest of the day if you'd like."

"No, I want to do this. You at least deserve an attempt." You smiled softly as Bucky laughed, his face splitting in two as his smile grew wide.

"Alright then, baby. This is all about you, okay? I don't want you to worry about me, you know I'll finish." Bucky joked, burying his face in your neck, nibbling lightly against your soft skin. You also laugh, giggling softly at the feeling of his beard scratching against your neck. You buried your fingers in his hair once again, pulling him from your neck and kissing him hard.

He flipped you onto your back in a flash, a small squeal leaving you as Bucky pinned you to the bed again, lips still pressed against yours. He slowly moved down your body, kissing every expanse of skin he could find before wrapping his lips around your nipple again and sucking hard, grazing his teeth along it softly. As you moaned above him, running your fingers through his hair, he switched to your other nipple and bit that one a little harder which caused you to gasp and arch your back. With a smirk, Bucky trailed his lips further down until he was eye level with your swollen pussy, his big hands holding your thighs open wide as he settled between them. He leaned forward, burying his face into you and inhaling deeply, moaning at the smell before quickly dipping his tongue past your folds. You threw your head back and moaned softly at the intrusion, your hands tugging on his wavy brown locks as you pulled him closer to your core.

"Patience is a virtue, sweetheart." Bucky mumbled against you, the vibrations of his gravelly voice shaking you to the core. You whined and bucked your hips against his face, feeling one hand grip your wrist hard, pinning you to the bed. Without hesitation, Bucky wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard. You moaned loudly, your eyes instantly rolling back in your head as he alternated between licking and sucking at your sensitive nub, his fingers hovering at the edge of your entrance.

"Oh, my fucking God, Bucky!" You cried, trying to pull your wrist free from his hand. He tightened his grip, tugging you forward slightly and dipping his metal fingers into you. He moaned against your clit as you greedily absorbed his fingers, instantly curling them upwards to brush against your spongy g-spot. Your legs tensed and a chill rolled down your spine as Bucky continued his assault on your pussy, your moans growing louder as you got closer to your tipping point. As you clenched around his fingers, he knew you were getting close. He pulled his mouth away from your soaked folds, his metal thumb swiping against it furiously as he leaned over you, your hands immediately wrapping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"You're doing so good for me, baby. Feel so good wrapped around my fingers." Bucky praised as a moan pulled you away from his lips, your eyebrows knitting together as you concentrated on how he was making you feel. "Don't think about it, honey. Let it happen. Just feel it for me, baby."

You nodded furiously, relaxing further into the bed as Bucky's fingers pumped in and out, hitting all the right spots with every thrust. Bucky kissed your mouth one last time before slithering back down between your thighs and wrapping his lips around your clit once more. Your fingers tangled in his hair again as a loud moan ripped out of you, the warmth in your belly growing, spreading through you as you danced on the edge of your orgasm.

"Fuck, I'm so close." You whispered softly, not wanting to distract yourself from the orgasm you were so close to finally achieving. Bucky's enhanced hearing caught what you said, prompting him to thrust his fingers into you at a rapid pace, his mouth still working on your clit. He moaned against the bundle of nerves, relishing in how tightly you began to clench around the three thick fingers plunged deep inside you. Your body seemed to move on its own as you began thrusting your hips, coaxing yourself closer and closer to the edge as you moaned loudly and repeatedly, steadily growing in volume until you were screaming. With an almost audible snap, your vision grew white, your jaw dropped all the way to your chest as fire enveloped you. The tips of your toes and fingers tingled and your limbs felt like jelly as you forced yourself to breathe, the sudden burst of air a welcome relief.

"There we go. Good girl, honey. My good girl. You did so well, you look so pretty when you cum for me." Bucky cooed, kissing your neck as he waited for you to come down from your high. His fingers were still deep inside you, the feeling of your fluttering walls making his cock twitch, but he didn't care. He wanted to make sure you were okay. You are all that matters to him, now and always.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Bucky staring at you expectantly. Taking a deep breath and nodding slowly, you blinked a few times to stem the tears that were rapidly building up.

"I'm okay." You mumbled, choking on your words as you cried once more.

"I know you are, my love. You're okay. You're perfect. I'm so proud of you." Bucky responded, wrapping you into a comforting hug, the throbbing of his cock going ignored as he comforted you. Your cries died down after a few more minutes, and only then did you realize that his fingers were still buried in you. You purposefully clenched around them, bringing his attention back to you.

"Did I finish?" You meekly asked, a bright red blush spreading over your face and chest.

"You didn't just finish. You squirted." Bucky answered, voice strained like he was holding something back. Your eyes grew wide as you went to sit up, looking between your legs to see a dark spot on the sheets below you.

"I didn't know I could do that. I'm sorry." You apologized, bringing your hands up to cover your face in shame.

"Don't apologize for that, we have a washing machine for a reason, honey. That was so fucking hot. Are you up for seeing if you can do it again?" Bucky asked, slowly thrusting his fingers in you once more. You pulled your hands away from your face, smashing your lips against his in a clash of teeth and tongues.

"Absolutely." You answered, kissing him again as he rolled over you to lay you back against the pillows once more. You went to reach for his weeping cock, but Bucky quickly locked both of your hands in one of his again.

"I told you, don't worry about me, baby. Just let yourself feel good. Let me help you." Bucky pleaded, his dark eyes boring into yours as you nodded. He pinned your hands above your head as he kissed you ferociously, pulling his fingers out of you and positioning himself at your entrance, soaking his cock with your slick. You hissed at the feeling of being empty as Bucky pumped himself, pushing the head of his cock inside you and stealing the breath from your lungs. He stilled inside you, allowing you to catch your breath and adjust to the intrusion, mentally praying to himself to keep his cool. You were clenching around his cock like you were sending Morse code and it was the most wonderful feeling Bucky had ever experienced in his life.

You signaled for him to continue, attempting to tug your hands free from his grip as he thrusted deeply inside of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his cock rubbed against your g-spot with every thrust.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. You were made for me, baby. God, I love you so much." Bucky murmured, crashing his lips to yours as he swallowed your moans.

"I love you too, Bucky. Fuck, don't stop, please!" You whined as Bucky pulled away from the kiss, moaning loudly as his hips ground against your clit in time with the speed of his thrusts.

"I won't, baby. I'm not stopping until you squirt around my dick." His vulgar words made your pussy clench, leading Bucky to groan deeply in the back of his throat. He released your wrists and wrapped his cold metal hand around your throat, squeezing the sides lightly as his pace sped up impossibly faster.

Your jaw dropped as you adjusted to the new, brutal pace Bucky set, dragging your nails down his arms, scratching marks into his sweaty skin. You reached around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss; sloppy and desperate, a flurry of teeth and tongues until he pulled away. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, releasing his hand from your throat and trailing it between your legs, pressing against your clit.

"Fuck! More, Bucky, oh fuck!" You cried, throwing your head back against the pillows as Bucky's fingers played with your clit, rolling and pinching it as he accommodated your demands for more. You clenched tighter around his rock-hard dick as you scratched down his back with one hand, the other resting on his hip as he continued to thrust deeply inside you.

"You're close, aren't you, honey? I can feel it, oh fuck! Come on, baby. Let me feel it. Cum for me, sweetheart, I've got you." Bucky moaned, his eyes never once leaving your face as it contorted into a look of bliss. After three more hard thrusts and a particularly rough pinch to your clit, you exploded.

With a scream of his name, you thrashed under Bucky as your orgasm ripped through you aggressively. You felt a gush of fluid as Bucky continued his assault on your battered pussy, letting you ride out your high. As you came down from cloud nine, Bucky's thrusts slowed, pulling out of your bruised hole and hovering over you as you attempted to catch your breath.

"How are you feeling?" Bucky whispered, peppering your face with kisses before planting one final one to your mouth, plunging his tongue down your throat, chuckling against your lips as you moaned once more.

"Mmmm, I'm feeling amazing. How are you feeling? Did you finish too?" Bucky smiled softly as you fussed over him, attempting to sit up. With another kiss to your lips, Bucky pushed you back down against the pillows.

"I'm fine, Princess, I promise. I told you not to worry about me." Bucky cooed, pressing another kiss to your lips as he stood from the bed, silently ordering you to stay put as he walked to the connecting bathroom. You laid in bed, boneless and thoroughly fucked... and suddenly feeling very guilty. Bucky returned with a wet rag in his hands, running the cool cloth between your legs to clean the sticky mess you left. Silently, Bucky picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, turning on the shower and plopping you down under the warm stream of water.

With a bid to return shortly, Bucky left you to sit on the floor of the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your sore muscles. Left to your own thoughts, you let out a sniffle as a few tears flowed down your cheeks. When Bucky came back, he scooped you off the shower floor and held you close to his chest, running his fingers through your wet hair.

"What's wrong, baby?" Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to your hairline. Your chin wobbled against his chest, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut as you let out a shuddering breath, a sob not following too far behind.

"I don't know, Buck! I'm overwhelmed, and feeling guilty, and I don't know why!" You whined, burying your face further into Bucky's wet chest. You felt him chuckle softly as you grip him tighter.

"Oh, honey. It's alright, I promise. You don't owe me anything, okay? I did this because I love you with my entire being, and we're definitely doing it again. For now, I've got you. I've got you." Bucky cooed softly against your hair. You continued to cry softly as Bucky cleaned and washed you, kissing your tears away whenever he caught one rolling down your cheek.

Once you were dressed in warm pajamas, Bucky wrapped you in his arms, reassuring you as many times as you needed to hear it that he was okay. You fell asleep before you could believe him, but he meant it when he said you'd be doing it again.

He got you to squirt twice in one night, and he's going to spend the rest of his life getting you to do it over and over again. He couldn't wait.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #avengers imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic

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sohotthateveryonedied · 2 months

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#please i have to know if i'm just a bitch or not #you can probably guess what my opinion is on the matter lmao #just orphan the fic if you don't like it anymore/don't want to be associated with it!!!!#that's what the orphaning option is for!!!! why are you taking away MY beloved reading material!!!!!! it makes me so mad #i've started downloading and keeping a collection of my favorite fics because i can't trust them not to disappear on me #if you've written a fic i love and deleted it you'd better count your days #ao3 #archive of our own #orphaned works #deleted fics #fanfic #fanfiction #fics #batfamily #batfam #batman #fandom #i'm just gonna tag all the fandoms i've read fic for lmao #voltron #voltron legendary defender #the raven cycle #trc #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #yuri on ice #marvel #mcu #the avengers #young justice

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bellaveux · 16 days

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AND I LOVE HER | n. romanoff x fem!reader

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader | navigation

summary: natasha’s heart has always been yours, but after your relationship deepens with a one-night stand, she struggles to find the right words and the perfect moment to confess her true feelings.

content warnings: 18+ MDNI. natasha romanoff x fem!reader, fluff, soft!natasha, medic!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn ish (?), pining, natasha being absolutely in love, mentions of drinking/alcohol, injuries, starts off with smut; top!natasha, bottom!reader, oral (r! receiving)

word count: 12.7K+

Natasha could barely think.

The hallways of the compound are quiet, the distant hum of Tony’s party barely reaching this far. The dim light casts long shadows against the sleek walls, flickering slightly as if they’re unsure of its own presence. Footsteps stumble softly over the polished floor, the sound swallowed by the thick air of anticipation that clings to the both of you. Your breaths are uneven, soft laughs and giggles falling from your lips, heavy with the weight of unsaid things and the burn of too much alcohol. Fingers, eager and trembling, trace the curves of bodies, sliding beneath fabric and finding warmth. Her lips meet yours again, desperate and searching, leaving a trail of stolen kisses as the two of you move—half blind, half guided by something stronger than sight. You didn’t need words; the world outside the glow of this narrow hallway is distant, unimportant. All you cared about now is her, how she pulls you closer, leading you closer to her room just ahead.

Natasha could barely think at all. Everything in her mind blurred, thoughts slipping through her fingers like water as soon as they tried to form. The only thing she could focus on was you. The taste of your lips. Sweet and intoxicating. The way they fit perfectly against hers, they’d been made for her to kiss. It sent a shockwave through her body each time your mouths collided, obliterating any coherent thoughts. Her hands, strong and firm, moved on their own, gripping your waist, sliding up your back, over the silk of your dress, desperate to feel more of you, to pull you closer until there was no space left.

She couldn’t think, didn’t want to think.

All that mattered was this—your body pressed against hers, trapping you between her and the door of her room, the soft moans that escaped between kisses, the way her heart pounded in her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her lips. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and she never wanted it to stop.

The warmth of the alcohol buzzed through Natasha’s veins, making everything feel hazy and wonderfully unreal. Having you in front of her like this, in her arms, underneath her hands, felt unreal. Her head was light, the edges of the world around her blurred as she kissed you, deepening the pleasant fog in her mind. The room tilted slightly every time she pulled you closer, but she didn’t care—if anything, it made the moment feel even more like a dream she didn’t want to wake from. The sharp edges of her usual control were dulled by the alcohol, making her bolder, less cautious. She found herself giggling against your pretty mouth, a sound she barely recognized as her own, drunk on both the wine and the feel of your beautiful body.

With shaky hands, Natasha reached behind you, her lips trailing your neck in sweet, wet kisses as her fingers fumbled for the zipper of your dress. She found the zipper a second later and slowly, deliberately, began to tug it down, feeling the tension in the material as it loosened around your body. The sound of the zipper sliding down was almost lost in the charged silence, but Natasha heard it, like a release of everything she’d been holding back. When the zipper finally reached the end of its line, Natasha let out a deep, shuddering sigh against your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

“Fuck, detka…” Natasha closes her eyes, letting her hands draw away from your back to trail them down to your thighs, her palms flat against your skin as they push the fabric of your dress upwards.

You can feel the pads of her fingers finding their way up, playing with the soft lace of your panties. Natasha moved slowly, savoring the moment for as long as she could. Her mouth paints your skin in light hickeys, trailing downwards to the valley of your breasts while you bring your hands up to run them through her red hair, pulling on it slightly to kiss her deeply once again.

“N-Natasha, please…” You muttered against her lips.

You could feel it—the way Natasha’s lips curved into that maddeningly smug smirk against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. It was as if Natasha knew exactly what she was doing to you, and of course, she did. Your skin burned where Natasha touched you, her fingers trailing with deliberate slowness, as if savoring every reaction, every trembling gasp.

“Please, what, krasivaya?” She asked, her voice low and seductive.

You whimpered, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, trying to tug her jacket off of her. “I need you... Please… Hurry…”

“You are so impatient,” Natasha smiles and kisses you softly. “I’m getting there, darling. Don’t worry.”

Your fingers fumbled with the edge of Natasha’s suit jacket once again, and your movements hurried, almost desperate, as you tried to push it off her shoulders. A soft whine escaped your lips, frustration mingling with the need that pulsed through you, but Natasha just smiled against your mouth, pausing the frenzied kisses for a brief moment. She pressed a softer, lingering kiss to your lips, calming the storm with her gentleness, before reaching up to shrug the jacket off herself. It slipped down her arms and hit the floor in a whisper of fabric, and then she was back, her hands finding your face, her lips capturing hers again.

Natasha guided you backwards with a practiced ease, never breaking apart from your lips. Her hands found their way to your thighs once more, fingers gripping the soft skin through the fabric of your dress. With a fluid motion, she lifted you off the ground, pulling you close as your lips collided again, more urgent this time, more desperate. Your legs instinctively wrapped around Natasha’s waist, your bodies fitting together as though they’d done this a hundred times before. Natasha’s grip tightened, the strength in her arms steadying them as she carried you across her room, never once faltering. The bed was just a few steps away, and the world outside your heated breaths felt impossibly distant. When she reached the edge of the mattress, Natasha lowered you down gently, her hands still firm on your thighs.

God, she’s always wanted to see you like this. Natasha had often imagined what it would be like to see you in this exact moment, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it. You were sprawled across the bed, her bed, your dress now a loosely draped, tangled mess that did little to cover your body. Your hair, once neatly styled, now fell wild and disheveled around your flushed face.

With a sense of urgency, Natasha’s fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress. The fabric slipped slowly away from your shoulders, revealing the expanse of your skin beneath, and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. As the dress fell away, pooling around your waist, Natasha’s eyes roamed over your curves, your breasts, with a kind of awe that was both intense and profound. The sight of you, bare and vulnerable before her, ignited something deep within Natasha—sending a wave straight to her core. Every inch of your skin seemed to glow under the dim light. You were so beautiful.

Natasha pulled on your dress until it was completely off of you, mindlessly throwing it behind her, her eyes never leaving your body. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, each one more stubborn than the last as she tried to hurry through them, her impatience palpable. Her gaze never left you, a vision she could scarcely believe was real. The way you looked at her—eyes heavy with desire, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath—only made Natasha’s hands more unsteady. Her shirt slipped open, one button finally giving way, then another, watching how your lips were slightly parted, breathless. There was a hunger in Natasha’s stare, an urgency she couldn’t suppress, as if unbuttoning her shirt fast enough might bring her closer to the moment she’d been silently craving for longer than she cared to admit. She could feel the warmth of your gaze on her, too, as each button gave way, the fabric parting to reveal the skin beneath.

“You’re so beautiful, Natasha,” you said breathlessly.

She smiled again, leaning down to kiss you between the valley of your breasts, “I’ve got nothing on you, detka.”

Natasha leaned down, hovering over you, her lips pressing softly against your neck, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. She lingered there for a moment, savoring the way your pulse quickened beneath her kisses as soft gasps escaped your mouth. Each touch was careful, brushing against the delicate skin just below your jaw, then down the hollow of your throat. Natasha’s kisses grew bolder with each passing second as they moved further south, grazing the curve of your collarbone to the swell of your breasts.

You laid back, closing your eyes as her lips explored your skin and the pads of her fingers softly rolled over your hardened nipples. A sigh falls from your mouth as Natasha’s breath glides closely over your chest, her lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking softly. Her tongue darts out, swirling around it, and your hands find themselves resting against Natasha’s shoulders, pulling her even closer.

“Spread your legs, for me, baby,” Natasha whispered against your stomach, her hands gently guiding your thighs apart as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You parted your legs without a second thought. But the reality of it—the softness of your skin beneath her fingers, the way your breath hitched and your body responded with such raw, trusting openness—made Natasha’s heart pound in a way that left her almost dizzy. She could feel the heat radiating between them, the anticipation thickening the air as she pressed closer, savoring every trembling moment. Natasha felt that she could die happy right here, with you beneath her, so vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.

God, you were so pretty.

Her fingers traced the delicate edge of your lace panties, her touch light and almost absentminded as she toyed with the fabric. She could feel the softness of the lace under her fingertips—the way it barely clung to your skin. Natasha didn’t rush—she liked the slow burn, to see you squirm, itching to get her to touch you, the way your breath hitched each time her fingers lingered a little too long or dipped a little too close to where she knew you wanted her the most. Natasha’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, catching the mixture of frustration and desire there, and she couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged on her lips as she continued to play with your panties.

“Natasha, please… Touch me, already…”

She licked her lips, parting them slightly as she listened to your pretty voice begging for her. Fuck, it was making her feel dizzy. “Gonna make you feel so good, angel. Trust me.”

Then, your hand found Natasha’s with an urgency that spoke of all the words she couldn’t say, fingers wrapping around hers and guiding underneath her panties. The fabric felt impossibly thin over her hand, and the wetness, the heat radiating from your skin sent a wave of electricity through Natasha that left her breathless. You were so wet, oh, fuck, and for a moment, Natasha forgot how to breathe, how to think—everything narrowed down to this simple, maddening desire.

“Can you feel how wet I am for you?” You whispered.

The sigh that escaped Natasha’s lips was involuntary, a soft sound of surrender, as she let herself be led by your need, her own mind dissolving into the heady rush of desire that clouded everything else.

The teasing only lasted so long before something snapped inside Natasha, a sharp, undeniable urge taking over, using her other hand to grab your wrist and pin it down against the mattress. She wanted to be the one to do it—to touch you, to make you come. Her finger hooked around the delicate waistband of your lace panties. There was no hesitation as she tugged them down, the lace slipping effortlessly over your hips. Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest as she discarded the fabric, her breaths coming quicker now, driven by the sheer intensity of her need.

Natasha nodded her head absentmindedly, her mind drowning in thoughts of you and your pussy. She said quietly, to herself almost, “Wanna fuck you…”

Her hands found their way under your thighs once more, lifting them up slightly, spreading them even wider as she leaned down to face your glistening pussy. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t give you a single warning, before she dove right in, licking a stripe through your folds, collecting your sweet wetness on her tongue.

Your moan was deep, guttural, a sound that reverberated through the quiet room as Natasha’s tongue ravaged you. It was as if every nerve in your body lit up at once—a shockwave of pleasure that left you gasping for breath. Instinctively, your legs tightened around Natasha’s head, your thighs trembling as they pressed against Natasha’s cheeks, holding her there. Each flick of Natasha’s tongue against your pussy sent you spiraling further, your moans growing louder and needier, echoing in the space around them. Your fingers tangled in Natasha’s hair as she fucked you, gripping tightly as your hips began to move on their own, seeking out every bit of friction you could find. Your whole world narrowed down to this one moment—Natasha’s mouth on you, the unbearable pleasure building inside you, and the primal need to keep her right where she was, between your legs.

Natasha felt like she’d stumbled into heaven itself. It was intoxicating—every taste, every subtle movement. Your body trembled under her touch, and Natasha reveled in it, savoring the way your flavor spread across her tongue, sweet and delicate. She moved slowly, deliberately, wanting to make this moment last forever, her hands gripping your thighs as if she were anchoring herself. Natasha closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the taste of you, thinking that she could stay here forever—right here, where nothing else existed but your taste, your scent, and the soft, breathless sounds that escaped her lips. You tasted better than Natasha had ever imagined—sweet, salty, intoxicating, like some forbidden nectar she had been craving for far too long. It felt like drinking water after wandering in a desert. Every lick, every pressure of her tongue, flicking against your clit, delving into your pussy, made Natasha feel like she was floating. She devoured you.

“Fuck, Natasha—“

Natasha could feel the shift in your body before you even registered it yourself—the way your muscles tensed, your breath catching in your throat as Natasha’s tongue became rougher, sucking on your clit harshly without mercy. It was a subtle change at first, just the slightest arch of your back. She could sense the way your body was coiling tight, your hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white, as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control. But the more Natasha pressed into her, the more she felt you surrender, hips lifting off the bed, with each swirl of Natasha’s tongue. The low, broken sounds spilling from your lips were growing desperate, and Natasha knew you were close; she could feel it in the way your thighs trembled, in the way her head tilted back, and in the way you tried to pull away slightly, as if you were scared of your own climax.

“N-Natasha… ‘Tasha, I-I’m cumming… I–“

Then, it snapped. Your body arched and trembled, reaching the peak of your pleasure, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm as you moaned her name aloud. Natasha’s hands were steady and guiding on your thighs as she licked you softly, helping you ride through the waves, making sure you could feel her—and only her.

“That’s it, baby…” She murmured against you.

When you began to calm down, Natasha pulled back slightly, giving you space but keeping her gaze fixed strictly on you. The sight of you, your body still quivering and your eyes fluttering open to reveal those pretty eyes of yours, struck Natasha as the most beautiful thing she has ever witnessed. You were trembling so much, and Natasha couldn’t help the smug smile that appeared on her face.

You were still trembling, your body humming with the aftershocks of release, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. But even in your dazed state, you reached out instinctively, your hands searching for Natasha, needing to feel her, to ground yourself in the warmth and presence of the woman who had just unraveled you completely. Natasha didn’t hesitate. The moment your fingers brushed against her, Natasha leaned in, wrapping her arms around your trembling body. Natasha found your lips again, kissing you deeply, the kiss not hurried or frantic like before, but slow and full of something deeper—something that tasted like promise, like... devotion. You could taste yourself on her lips, and Natasha couldn’t help but melt as you moaned softly into her mouth.

Natasha hovered above you, leaving just the barest sliver of space between the two of you. She pulled back, barely a centimeter, her breath mingling with yours, warm and uneven. For a moment, Natasha did nothing but stare, her gaze locked on your half-lidded eyes, the way they fluttered with each rapid breath. Your chest rose and fell beneath her, still struggling to catch your breath, to stop your body from trembling, your lips slightly parted and glistening. Natasha couldn’t help but smile softly, taking in the sight of you like this—disarmed, vulnerable, beautiful in a way that made Natasha’s heart ache with affection. Fuck, she wanted to stay here forever.

“Hi,” you whispered breathlessly, almost with a shy smile.

“Hi,” she murmured, her smile growing. Then Natasha brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers lingering there as she asked, “You okay?”

You nodded, still catching your breath, but your smile grew a little wider, a little surer. “More than okay,” you replied softly, your hand finding Natasha’s hand and squeezing it gently. “You?”

Natasha’s smile deepened, a rare, genuine expression that felt as natural as breathing in this moment. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m good.”

She found herself lost in the quiet afterglow, her gaze lingering on you with a kind of reverence she rarely allowed herself to feel. You looked so peaceful now, your face still flushed, and your hair fanned out against the pillow. There was something so effortlessly captivating about you—something that made Natasha’s heart stumble in her chest every time she looked at you like this. The way your lips curved into a soft, contented smile, your eyes half-closed and still dazed with pleasure, made Natasha’s breath hitch.

She could almost feel the words forming on her tongue before she even realized it.

I love you.

Natasha blinked. She almost said it. The words pressed against her tongue, desperate to be spoken, to be released. But just as quickly, she swallowed them back. It was a truth that had settled deep inside her, so much so that every time she looked at you, really looked at you, it almost felt impossible not to say it. You looked so peaceful, so breathtakingly beautiful in the dim light of her room, your lips still slightly parted as if caught in a dream. Natasha’s fingers brushed gently against your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw as she stared, mesmerized. In this moment, you were everything to her—so pretty, so real, and so entirely hers.

God, she wanted to say it.

But, for the first time in as long as she could remember, fear gripped her. Not the kind of fear she was used to—the physical, tangible kind that came with a mission or a fight—but something deeper, something far more terrifying. Would it be too fast? Would you feel the same way? Would you say it back? The thought twisted in her chest, making her hesitate. Natasha wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, this unsure. She wasn’t scared of much in life, but the possibility of rejection—of putting her heart on the line and finding out it wasn’t enough—was enough to keep the words trapped inside.

She stayed silent, her gaze lingering on you with a tenderness she couldn’t fully express, her heart aching with the love she didn’t dare speak.

Instead, she kissed you again—slowly at first, as if savoring the taste of your lips might somehow drown out the urge to confess. The kiss deepened quickly, turning desperate and consuming, a way to silence the fears that clawed at her insides. Natasha’s hands roamed over your body once more, fingers tracing familiar paths, as if she were trying to memorize every inch of you, to carve this moment into her memory so it would never fade. The world outside this room ceased to exist; all that mattered was the way you responded to her touch, the soft gasps and whispered sighs that filled the air between them.

Natasha didn’t stop, couldn’t stop—each kiss, each touch, every moan, became a plea for more time, more of you, as if by making love to you again and again, she could delay the inevitable, could keep the fragile bubble of this night from bursting. The hours slipped by in a blur of passion and quiet intensity, the darkness outside deepening as Natasha pressed closer, held you tighter, and chased the fleeting moments that seemed to slip through her fingers like sand. It wasn’t enough—it would never be enough—but for now, it was all she had.

And so she loved you through the night, as if time itself could be bent to her will, as if each kiss, each whispered name, could stave off the dawn just a little longer.

In the morning, you were gone.

Natasha woke slowly, the warmth of sleep still clinging to her as she blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she reached out instinctively, her hand searching the space beside her, expecting to find you. But all she felt was the cool, empty sheets where you had been. She let out a quiet sigh, already knowing why. Your work started early—too early—and you were always gone before the sun fully rose, slipping out of bed with a quiet grace that Natasha admired but, at times like this, resented.

She stayed there, her hand resting on the vacant spot beside her, feeling the absence like a weight on her chest. The room was too quiet without your soft breathing; the lingering scent of your hair was still faintly on the pillow. Natasha turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind a haze of thoughts she couldn’t quite pin down. She knew you had to go—it was just how things were—but that didn’t stop the hollow ache that settled in her stomach, the longing for just a few more minutes of your presence.

After a while, Natasha sat up slowly, her movements sluggish and heavy as the quiet of the morning settled around her. The moment she lifted her head from the pillow, a dull, throbbing ache bloomed at her temples, spreading like a slow wave of discomfort. She groaned softly, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes as if that might somehow lessen the pounding in her skull. The aftermath of last night’s drinks had finally caught up with her, and it wasn’t letting her forget it.

Natasha let out a breath, trying to shake off the haze of exhaustion that clung to her, but the effort only seemed to make her head spin. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from her mind, but it was no use. The room felt too bright, the air too still, and the emptiness beside her in the bed only added to the strange sense of disorientation. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as the movement sent another jolt of pain through her head. It wasn’t the worst hangover she’d ever had, but it was enough to make her wish she could just lie back down and sleep it off—except, of course, that spot next to her was still cold and empty, and there was no comfort in the silence.

She turned her head toward the nightstand, squinting against the light as her eyes landed on a small note propped up beside a familiar pill bottle. She blinked, then reached for the note, the crinkling sound of paper somehow comforting in the quiet room. The words were written in your neat, slightly slanted handwriting: “Thank you for last night. And don’t forget to take these! :)” The smiley face was unmistakably you—a touch of warmth that made Natasha’s chest tighten in the best way.

A slow smile crept across her lips as she read the note again, and again... and again. The headache still pulsed faintly behind her eyes, but it suddenly didn’t feel as bad. The simple gesture, the thoughtfulness of it—you thinking of her in the early morning hours, leaving behind something to make sure Natasha would be okay—it was enough to make everything else fade into the background. Natasha picked up the pill bottle, shaking it gently, then set it back down with a soft chuckle.

Without thinking, she lay back down, the note still clutched between her fingers. She held it up, her gaze tracing over your handwriting, memorizing the curves and loops of each letter. It was such a small thing, but it felt monumental, a tangible reminder that you had been here, in her room, in her bed, that you’d thought of Natasha even after leaving.

But as the days passed, you and Natasha slipped effortlessly back into your familiar routine, all filled with work. The compound buzzed with its usual activities, and you moved through your tasks with the same blend of efficiency and warmth that Natasha had come to rely on. Your conversations flowed as seamlessly as they always had, punctuated by laughter, talks of work and her health, and shared moments of quiet understanding.

Yet, for Natasha, everything had shifted subtly, profoundly.

Every glance, every casual touch between the two of you now felt charged with an intensity she couldn’t ignore. The way your eyes lit up when you spoke, the way you brushed against Natasha in passing—it all sent jolts through her, leaving her with a physical ache that was almost unbearable. Natasha found herself hanging on to every word you said, her heart racing whenever you came near, her fingers almost itching to reach out and close the space between the two of you.

When you brushed her hand against Natasha’s, it was no longer just a simple touch; it was a spark that set Natasha’s entire being on fire. The way your laughter filled the room, how you tilted your head just so when you were focused on your work—it was all consuming. Natasha wanted to pull you close, to kiss you with a hunger that had been simmering just beneath the surface, to feel the softness of your lips against hers and lose herself in you. Natasha wanted more than just the stolen moments and the shared smiles; she wanted everything with you. The thought of a future, of waking up to you beside her every morning.

“What’s going on with you?”

Natasha blinked, momentarily disoriented, as Steve’s voice pulled her out her thoughts. They were in the midst of their mission, moving through the dimly lit corridors of an abandoned warehouse. The mission was progressing smoothly, as always, but Natasha’s mind had been elsewhere, lost in a whirl of thoughts and emotions that had nothing to do with the task at hand.

Steve’s brow was furrowed with concern as he looked at her, his sharp eyes catching every nuance of her distraction. It was clear that her usual focus and sharpness were missing, and that was something Steve didn’t overlook, especially in the midst of a high-stakes operation.

Natasha hesitated, her mind racing to regroup, to push aside the tumult of feelings that had been gnawing at her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“Just a lot on my mind,” she said, forcing a casual tone that didn’t quite match the tension in her voice. She adjusted her stance, trying to redirect her focus back to the mission. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Steve studied her for a moment, clearly not convinced. “Natasha,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “We’ve been through this before. If something’s bothering you, you need to talk about it. We’re a team.”

The sincerity in his voice made Natasha’s chest tighten. She appreciated Steve’s concern, but the truth was, she even didn’t know how to articulate the whirlwind of emotions she was experiencing.

Natasha sighed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. She knew Steve was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to share what was really troubling her. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, her voice firmer this time. “I’m fine... I’ll get it together.”

Steve gave her a scrutinizing look, clearly still concerned, but he nodded. “Alright. But if you need to talk, I’m here.”

“I know, Steve.”

The mission was successful. As usual.

On a calm Sunday morning, Natasha sat at the counter, methodically biting into her peanut butter sandwich as she half-listened to Steve’s low murmur about the latest Avengers briefing. The kitchen was bathed in the soft morning light that filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the polished surfaces. Steve was nursing a steaming cup of coffee, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newspaper spread out before him.

The soft sound of footsteps nearing drew Natasha’s attention as you walked in, your presence immediately changing the room’s dynamic.

You greeted them with a quick, cheerful “Morning, guys,” before heading straight for the coffee machine, your voice carrying the easy warmth that Natasha had come to crave.

“Hey, (y/n). Just brewed a pot,” Steve said.

You thanked him with a kind smile and moved quickly, grabbing a cup of coffee from the counter and casting a fleeting, soft, lingering smile in Natasha’s direction as you filled her cup. The smile was fleeting but full of unspoken warmth, a subtle connection that spoke volumes in its brevity.

Natasha’s reaction was immediate. She paused mid-bite, the sandwich almost forgotten as she watched you with an intensity that didn’t go unnoticed. Her fingers faltered, the sandwich slipping back onto her plate with a soft thud. She nodded at you, a nervous, shy smile tugging at her lips as if she were trying to hold on to that fleeting moment.

Steve, who had been watching this exchange with an increasingly amused expression, couldn’t help but chuckle softly. The realization hit him with a sudden clarity. Natasha’s distraction, the lingering thoughts that had clouded her focus during the mission—it all made sense now. The way she looked at you, the way her entire demeanor changed in your presence—it was a classic case of being head over heels.

“Well, well,” Steve said, his voice low and teasing as he took another sip of his coffee. “I think I just figured out what’s been on your mind.”

He shot Natasha a knowing grin, his eyes sparkling with understanding. Natasha looked up, caught off guard but with a soft flush creeping up her neck.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, though her tone was already betraying her discomfort.

Steve’s smile widened. “Nothing, just an observation.” He took another sip, enjoying the moment of revelation. “Seems like someone’s made quite the impression.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, trying to mask her embarrassment with a playful scowl. “I suppose I can’t keep anything from you,” she said, shaking her head but unable to suppress the fond smile that tugged at her lips.

“Looks like it,” he said.

Natasha sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as she rested her head on the cool surface of the kitchen counter. “What do I do?” she muttered, her voice muffled by the countertop.

Sam strolled into the kitchen just as she had asked this, his expression a mix of curiosity and mischief. He took in the scene with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Confess immediately,” he said, his tone light but resolute. “Don’t overthink it. Just go for it.”

Natasha looked at him in disbelief, an eyebrow raised as if she were silently asking how he could possibly know about all of this. Steve, who was leaning casually against the counter, gave Sam a sidelong glance.

“Hey, maybe ease into it a bit,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “What about asking her on a date? A nice, romantic dinner—something where you can talk, you know.

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, no,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “A dinner date sounds nice and all, but if you’ve got feelings, you might as well just lay it all out there.”

Natasha lifted her head slightly, her gaze shifting between Steve and Sam; her expression caught between exasperation and hope. “So, you both think I should just... tell her?”

Steve nodded, his expression encouraging. “Yeah, but maybe take the chance to make it special. It’s not just about confessing—it’s about showing her how much you care.”

Sam shook his head with a smirk. “Or you could just cut to the chase. No need for all the pomp.”

Natasha sat in the quiet of the kitchen, the hum of the morning routine a distant backdrop as she contemplated the contrasting pieces of advice she had just received. She already knew she had to tell you. The doing is what’s got her in a slump. Steve’s suggestion of a romantic dinner held a particular allure, painting vivid pictures in her mind of you dressing up all pretty just for her, a soft glow of anticipation in her eyes. She imagined the two of you sitting across from each other at a candlelit table, the air filled with the intimate murmur of conversation and the soft clink of glasses. Yet, Sam’s more direct approach was equally compelling. The simplicity of confessing her feelings outright, of stripping away pretense and diving straight into the heart of the matter, had its own raw appeal. The idea of bypassing all the elaborate gestures, cutting straight through to the essence of her emotions, felt refreshingly honest, more her style.

She tried Steve’s idea first. She had it all planned out, chose a restaurant she thought you’d like, take you out for a walk under the moonlight, and then she’d tell you everything.

But her attempts to ask you out on a date seemed to be thwarted by an endless stream of interruptions. Each time she mustered the courage to approach you, the timing was never right. One time, as Natasha approached the med bay with a hopeful resolve, she was met with the sight of your hands deftly tending to a newly injured agent. The room was filled with the hum of medical equipment and the urgent tones of your focused attention, making it impossible to find a moment of privacy.

Another time, Natasha had managed to catch you alone, only for a sudden emergency to arise.

“I’m so sorry, Nat,” you had said.

Natasha shook her head and urged you to go with a pained smile, telling you that she’ll just find you again later. The sound of the alert echoed through the compound, pulling you away with swift urgency as you dashed off to respond to the call. Natasha watched with a sigh, frustration and longing mingling in her chest as you disappeared down the hallway.

Even when she did manage to find you alone, the med bay door would swing open with startling regularity, admitting a new batch of agents or staff members needing your expertise. Each interruption was a jarring reminder of the busy, unpredictable world they inhabited, leaving Natasha grasping at fleeting opportunities that never quite materialized.

With every failed attempt, Natasha’s patience was tested. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, the universe was determined to keep her moments with you brief and fragmented. But, even then, Natasha’s resolve only deepened, determined to find the right time with you.

The next day, Natasha found herself lingering outside the med bay, her shoulder resting against the doorframe as she watched you from afar. You were sitting at your desk, completely absorbed in a thick, worn book. Your brow furrowed slightly in concentration, a stray strand of hair falling across your forehead as you absentmindedly brushed it away. The soft glow of the med bay’s overhead light bathed you in a warm, gentle hue, casting delicate shadows on your face. Natasha stood there, quietly captivated by the sight, her heart swelling with an almost unbearable tenderness.

There was something so achingly beautiful about the way your eyes flicked across the page, your lips occasionally curving into the faintest hint of a smile at whatever she was reading. The world outside the med bay seemed to fade away, and for a moment, Natasha felt like she could stand there forever, simply watching you.

“You can come in, Natasha,” she heard you say, your eyes never leaving the pages of your book.

Natasha blinked, startled by your words. She hadn’t realized she’d been standing there long enough to be noticed. Clearing her throat, she pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the med bay, the familiar scent of antiseptic and coffee mingling in the air. You still hadn’t looked up from your book, your eyes tracing the lines of text with an almost lazy ease, but there was a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“You always seem to know when I’m around,” Natasha said, trying to keep her voice steady as she moved closer to your desk. She felt a strange mix of relief and nervousness—the comfort of being near you and the anxiety of what she wanted to say, what she’d been trying to say for days now.

You finally looked up, your eyes meeting Natasha’s with that familiar warmth that always made her heart skip a beat. “You’re not exactly subtle,” you teased lightly, setting the book down. “And I like it when you drop by.”

Natasha smiled, but it felt more like a grimace, her nerves getting the better of her. She shifted on her feet, hands fidgeting at her sides. “I just... wanted to see how you were doing. You’ve been busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

You tilted your head, studying Natasha in that way that made her feel like you could see right through her. “I’m fine, and you’re not interrupting,” you said softly, your smile fading into something more serious.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. This was the opening she needed—the perfect moment to say what she’d been practicing in her head over and over again. But the words seemed stuck, tangled up in her chest. She could only nod, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to summon the courage to speak.

“Natasha…” Your voice was gentle, coaxing, and when Natasha finally looked up, she found you watching her with that same patient expression, as if she already knew what Natasha was struggling to say.

“I—” Natasha started, then stopped. She bit her lip, trying to find the right words. “I… just wanted to see you,” Natasha finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t exactly what she had planned to say, but it was the truth, raw and unfiltered.

Your expression softened even more, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You closed the book; your full attention now on Natasha.

“Well, you’ve found me,” you said, your tone playful but laced with something deeper, something that made Natasha’s pulse quicken. “What’s on your mind?”

“Uh, I’ve been... meaning to ask...” Natasha began, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability that made you pause, your full attention on her.

Your gaze softened as you waited patiently, sensing that whatever Natasha was about to say was important. The air between the two of you felt charged, thick with anticipation, as if this moment could be the beginning of something they both had been skirting around for too long.

But just as Natasha opened her mouth to continue, the sharp ring of her phone cut through the tension like a knife. The sound startled you both, and Natasha’s expression immediately shifted from hesitant to frustrated as she pulled the phone from her pocket. A quick glance at the screen told her all she needed to know: Fury.

Fuck. She sighed, feeling the weight of the moment slip away from her. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to you. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen as if delaying the inevitable.

You gave her a small, understanding smile. “You should take it. It’s probably important,” you said softly, though Natasha could see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes.

Natasha sighed and nodded, the frustration still gnawing at her as she swiped to answer the call.

“Yeah?” She said into the phone, her tone clipped, already mourning the lost opportunity.

As Fury’s voice filled her ear, Natasha couldn’t help but glance back at you, who had returned to your book but seemed distracted, your eyes not really seeing the words on the page. She wanted to be here with you and wanted to finish what she’d started to say. But duty called, and as much as she resented the timing, Natasha knew there was no escaping it. Still, as she listened to Fury’s instructions, her mind lingered on the words she hadn’t yet spoken.

Natasha left the med bay with a heavy heart, her footsteps echoing down the sterile, polished floors of the compound as she moved with practiced efficiency. The cool air felt harsh against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that had lingered in your presence just moments before. She didn’t want to leave, not when she had been so close to finally asking you out, but Fury’s voice in her ear had been all business, pulling her back into the world of missions and danger. The life she had known so well before you had started to change everything. Now, as she moved toward the hangar, readying herself for a quick mission, Natasha couldn’t shake the image of you sitting at your desk, so patient, so understanding, yet so distant now as the demands of her duty called her away from you once again. The familiar rush of adrenaline from the impending mission did little to dull the ache of leaving you behind, and as Natasha climbed into the Quinjet, she realized that no matter how many missions she completed, this—the moments with you—was the one thing she couldn’t afford to lose.

Natasha arrived back at the compound two nights later.

It was the kind of hour where everything felt suspended in a heavy, muffled silence. The Quinjet landed with a low hum, its lights cutting through the darkness, but Natasha was too tired to appreciate the quietness of her arrival. Her body ached with every movement, bruises blooming across her skin in angry shades of purple and blue. Her nose was still bleeding, a thin trickle of crimson slipping down her lip that she wiped away with the back of her hand. And then there was the stabbing pain in her side—a broken rib, she was sure of it. Exhausted, she stumbled down the ramp, each step sending a sharp jolt of pain through her chest. When she finally reached the dimly lit corridor, she paused, leaning against the cool metal wall for support.

She tapped into her comm, her voice rough and weary as she asked, “FRIDAY, is anyone in the med bay right now?”

The calm voice filled the space around her, gentle but clear. “Doctor (L/n) is in, Agent Romanoff. Would like me to alert her?”

A wave of relief washed over her, mingled with a touch of dread. You. Of course, you’d still be there.

“N-No, I’ll just… I’m heading there right now.”

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment, pushing past the pain as she straightened up. She had barely been able to ask you out before she left, and now she was coming back bruised and broken, needing you in a different way. With a heavy sigh, Natasha started down the hallway. She trudged through the corridors of the compound, her footsteps uneven. The sterile white walls of the hallway seemed to blur as she moved, the intensity of her injuries casting a dull haze over her vision. Her breath came in shallow, labored gasps, each inhale sharp and punctuated by the searing pain in her ribcage. The normally comforting hum of the compound’s ventilation system felt intrusive.

As she approached the med bay, the dim light spilling from under the door painted a faint golden streak across the floor, guiding her weary steps. Natasha’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the button on the wall, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of her flushed skin. The door opens automatically, and the slide is loud in the quiet space. The med bay was bathed in a soft, muted glow, its organized chaos of medical supplies and equipment casting long, flickering shadows. Her eyes scanned the room, searching through until they settled on the figure she had hoped to find. You stood at a workbench, your focus intent on preparing some medical supplies. The sight of you, so absorbed in your work, made Natasha’s heart ache. The exhaustion and pain seemed to fade a little in your presence even as Natasha forced herself to step inside.

You continued your meticulous arrangement of medical supplies, your back turned to the door as you muttered, “If you’re here for a minor issue, just fill out the form and I’ll get to you when I can.”

Your voice carried the practiced tone of someone who had dealt with countless interruptions, your focus unwavering.

Natasha let out a pained scoff, the sound escaping more sharply than she intended. The noise drew your attention, and you froze mid-motion, your hand hovering over a box of bandages. You turned slowly, your eyes widening as you took in Natasha’s battered appearance. The sight of Natasha, bruised and bloodied, caused your heart to skip a beat, her professional mask slipping away to reveal a raw edge of concern.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, as you took an instant step forward, your gaze fixed on the blood trickling from Natasha’s nose and the pained grimace on her face. “What happened?”

The words came out in a rush, your earlier dismissal forgotten as you rushed to Natasha’s side, your hands already reaching out to help, your eyes filled with a mixture of shock and worry.

Your hands moved with practiced urgency as you guided Natasha to one of the beds, the action firm but gentle. You eased Natasha down onto the cushioned surface, your eyes darting across the extent of Natasha’s injuries with a rapid, assessing glance. Your breath hitched slightly as you took in the sight of Natasha’s battered body—the bruises spreading across her skin, the telltale signs of pain in her face, and the blood that marred her otherwise stoic appearance.

With a quick, deft motion, you reached for a nearby first aid kit, your movements efficient despite the visible tremor in your hands. You worked with a calm resolve, your mind focusing solely on the task at hand.

“Okay, let me take a look,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with concern.

Your fingers were careful as they moved to inspect Natasha’s broken rib, pressing gently to assess the injury while avoiding exacerbating the pain. Your gaze remained focused on Natasha, your eyes reflecting a deep well of worry and care.

You reached up slowly, cradling her face with your gentle hands, a move that made Natasha close her eyes in relief, feeling your palm rest softly against her face. As you cleaned the blood from her face and applied a fresh bandage, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Natasha’s eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort.

Later, as the night wore on, you kept working and carefully prepared an elastic bandage, your fingers moving with practiced precision. You already administered the painkillers, watching as Natasha swallowed them down with a grimace, and handed her anti-inflammatory pills with a soft reminder to take them regularly. Now, as Natasha sat upright on the edge of the medical bed, her shirt discarded, you gently guided her to lift her arms.

The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of the bandage as you began wrapping it around Natasha's torso. You always loved Natasha’s body, beautiful and athletically toned, but seeing her buried up like this was a sight you weren’t too fond of.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, the pressure firm but not too tight, offering support without constricting Natasha's breathing. Each pass of the bandage was done with utmost care, your fingertips brushing lightly against Natasha’s skin. Your eyes flickered between your work and Natasha’s face, making sure you weren’t causing any unnecessary discomfort. The bandage gradually wound around Natasha’s ribcage, securing the fractured bone in place, and you took your time, ensuring it was both comfortable and effective. As you finished, your hands lingered for a moment, her touch lingering in a quiet, intimate gesture of care before she finally stepped back, her eyes meeting Natasha’s in a silent exchange of concern and unspoken words.

“You should lay down,” you said sternly, and she obeyed with your help.

You stepped back from Natasha, your eyes scanning over the finished bandage job with concern, then made your way to the cabinets behind you.

As you turned and walked away, Natasha couldn’t help but let her gaze linger, her eyes tracing the subtle sway of your hips as you walked. Despite the dull ache in her ribs and the sting of her cuts, Natasha found herself distracted by the sight of you, the way your hair fell prettily around your face, and the confident yet graceful way you carried herself. It was ridiculous, really—how someone could look so effortlessly beautiful at this time of night. But that was you, distracting and disarming, making it nearly impossible for Natasha to focus on anything else. You were always beautiful. She would never stop thinking it. The pain in her body dulled just by watching you, and Natasha couldn’t suppress a wry smile at the thought.

A part of her, the part she tried to keep buried beneath layers of stoicism and professionalism, kind of liked being in this position. Being injured wasn’t ideal, of course, but if it meant that you were the one taking care of her—if it meant those gentle hands tending to her wounds, those soft eyes watching her with concern—well, it wasn’t all that bad. Natasha leaned back on the medical bed, trying not to wince as she adjusted herself, her mind already anticipating the feeling of your cool hands against her skin again.

Your eyes scanned the cabinet, your mind racing, already mentally cataloging what she needed—an ice pack for Natasha’s ribs and creams and ointments to treat the cuts on her and the bruises on her body. You moved quickly, your hands working automatically as you gathered the items—a tube of antibiotic ointment, a small jar of healing cream, and the ice pack she swiftly prepared, cracking it to activate the cold. You worked quickly and efficiently, but the image of Natasha’s bruised and bloodied face lingered in your thoughts, pushing you to hurry back. With everything in hand, you returned to the bed.

Swiftly, you pulled a chair over, your movements deliberate as you positioned yourself close to Natasha, almost too close, yet Natasha found herself craving the proximity. Your expression was a mix of concern and something else—something sharper, like a restrained anger simmering just beneath the surface. You dipped your fingers into the ointment, your touch cool and soothing as you began to apply it gently to the cuts on Natasha’s face. Your gaze never left Natasha’s, your eyes searching for answers even before you spoke.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Your voice was low and stern, the tone almost scolding.

It carried an edge that made Natasha’s chest tighten, but not with fear—with something warmer, something that made her want to smile despite the situation. And she did, her lips curving upward, unable to hide her amusement at how your concern manifested in this sharp, almost angry way. She knew it wasn’t anger, not really. It was worry and frustration that you couldn’t have prevented this, that Natasha had come back to you bruised and broken.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Natasha replied softly, her voice tinged with that smile she couldn’t quite suppress.

But she didn’t give you the full story just yet, savoring this moment where your hands moved so carefully over her skin, applying the ointment with such focused tenderness. Natasha liked this—liked seeing you flustered, your emotions so close to the surface. It made her feel important, seen.

Your fingers paused for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied Natasha’s face. You didn’t seem convinced by the lightness in Natasha’s tone, but you didn’t push—at least, not yet. Instead, you took a deep breath and resumed your work, the soft pad of your thumb smoothing ointment over a particularly nasty cut on Natasha’s cheek. Natasha winced slightly. She could sense the underlying tension in you—the way your jaw clenched ever so slightly, the way you focused a little too intently on the task at hand.

“You know that’s not what I asked,” you said quietly, your voice still holding that stern edge, though there was a softness there too, a plea for honesty.

You didn’t look up as you spoke, your attention fixed on her injuries, but Natasha could feel the weight of your words. It wasn’t just concern—it was something deeper, a fear that gnawed at you every time Natasha walked out of the compound on a mission. And now, seeing Natasha like this, bruised and battered, only made that fear surface all the more.

The redhead sighed, her smile fading as she let her gaze drift away from your face, staring at some indeterminate spot on the wall.

“It was a solo recon mission,” she finally said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Things went south, and I had to engage. Took a few hits, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Your hands stilled again, this time longer, and Natasha could feel the frustration radiating from you, though you still kept your touch gentle. You finally looked up, your eyes locking with her green ones.

“You always say that,” you muttered, your voice stern and laced with exasperation. “You always downplay it, like it’s nothing. But look at you.”

Natasha met your gaze, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. She wanted to reassure you, to say something that would ease that worry etched into your face, but the words caught in her throat. So instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your wrist.

“I’m okay, milaya,” Natasha said softly, and this time, the smile that curled her lips was tender and genuine. “I promise.”

You didn’t reply right away, but you didn’t pull away either. Your fingers lingered on Natasha’s skin, and for a moment, you simply stayed like that, the air between you thick with tension. Finally, you exhaled a soft, resigned sigh as you resumed your work, the sternness in your expression giving way to something more vulnerable, more caring.

“Just... try to be careful. It’s not like you to be making mistakes,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, and Natasha felt her heart clench at the raw emotion behind the words. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded eagerly, her words catching in her throat.

You shook your head, a soft, almost exasperated sigh escaping your lips as you reached out, gently cupping Natasha’s chin to turn her face towards you. She allowed it, letting you guide her, the warmth of your hand against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. You leaned in closer, your brow furrowing as you examined the other side of Natasha’s face, your eyes darkening when you saw the bigger bruise that had bloomed there.

“Natasha...” you whispered, your voice laced with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.

Your touch was featherlight as you carefully dabbed ointment over the bruise, your movements slow and deliberate, as if you were afraid of causing more pain.

But Natasha barely felt the sting. No, her mind was somewhere else entirely.

You were so close now, closer than you had been all night, and all Natasha could think about was how your breath ghosted over her skin, how your lips hovered just inches away. The scent of your shampoo filled her senses, clean and familiar, and Natasha’s gaze drifted to those lips—soft, plump, the same lips she remembered so vividly from that night, the lips that had been moaning her name all night. Her heart thudded in her chest, drowning out everything else. The pain, the bruises, the mission—they all faded into the background. All that remained was the memory of those lips, how they’d felt against hers, the way they’d made her forget everything but you.

Natasha swallowed hard, fighting to stay present, but it was useless. Her green eyes lingered on your mouth, tracing the curve of your lips and the way they moved as you murmured soft reassurances. Every part of Natasha ached to close the distance, to taste those lips again, to lose herself in that same rush that had consumed her that night. It was maddening how badly she wanted it—how badly she wanted you.

And for a moment, just a fleeting second, Natasha wondered if you felt it too—if you could feel the tension crackling in the air between you, the way Natasha’s pulse quickened under your touch. But she couldn’t think of anything else. She couldn’t think of anything but how close you were and how desperately she wanted to close that gap.

Your hand lingered for a moment longer, your fingers brushing over Natasha’s skin gently. And you were just about to pull away, to turn your attention back to the supplies on the tray beside you, when she felt it—a sudden rush deep in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. The words she’d been holding back for so long, the ones that had burned at the tip of her tongue for what felt like forever, finally pushed their way out, unbidden and unstoppable.

“I love you.”

It was barely a whisper, but in the quiet of the med bay, it sounded deafening. Natasha hadn’t meant to say it, not like this, not when she was bruised and battered, vulnerable in a way she hated to be. But the moment had slipped through her fingers, and now the words were out there, hanging in the air between you.

You froze, your fingers still resting against Natasha’s face, your eyes widening slightly as the words registered. For a split second, there was nothing but silence, a silence so thick and heavy that Natasha almost couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t planned this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that she might lose control, that she might let her guard down so completely. But it’s so hard not to when she was with you.

But then your eyes softened, your expression shifting from shock to something Natasha couldn’t quite read—something gentle, something that made Natasha’s heart pound even harder. Your hand moved again, this time not to turn away but to cradle Natasha’s face more firmly, your thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

“Natasha…” You whispered, your voice barely audible, and there was a tenderness in your tone that made Natasha’s breath hitch. Your eyes searched hers, as if trying to find the truth behind the words, to make sure you hadn’t imagined them.

But Natasha couldn’t take them back now. She didn’t want to. The weight of them had already lifted, and even though her heart was racing, even though her chest ached with the fear of what might come next, what you might say, she didn’t regret it. All she could do was hold your gaze, waiting, hoping that somehow this wouldn’t be the moment everything shattered.

The redhead leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she let the warmth of your palm soothe the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. The confession had slipped out too quickly, too easily, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t stop herself. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the feelings she’d kept buried for so long were rushing out.

“I’ve always loved you,” Natasha murmured again, her voice steadier this time, though still soft, vulnerable in a way that felt foreign to her. She opened her eyes again, finding your gentle gaze still locked on hers, wide and searching. Natasha’s heart pounded as she watched the emotions flicker across your face—surprise, confusion, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

You didn’t pull away. If anything, your grip on Natasha’s face tightened, your thumb gently brushing against the curve of her cheek. The silence that followed wasn’t as suffocating as before, but it still held weight, heavy with what Natasha had just said. She could see you processing it, trying to make sense of the sudden shift of the words that had come so unexpectedly. But Natasha didn’t waver. She let herself sink into the moment, letting herself be held by your gaze and by the feel of your hand on her skin. She’d always known that her feelings for you ran deep—deeper than she’d ever allowed herself to admit.

“(Y/n)…” Natasha murmured, her voice soft but more certain. She tilted her head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, her lips lingering there for a moment as you let her words sink in. She wasn’t asking for anything, not really. She just needed you to know. To understand.

Your eyes flickered with uncertainty, a shadow of doubt crossing your expression. It wasn’t like Natasha to confess anything so personal, so vulnerable, especially when it came to her feelings. It left you reeling. You searched Natasha’s face, looking for any hint of insincerity, any sign that this might be some sort of joke. But all you found was the steady, unwavering gaze of someone who had just bared their soul.

“You’re not joking?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with disbelief. There was a softness in your tone, a hint of hope that you almost didn’t want to acknowledge.

Natasha’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. She shook her head, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Why would I be joking?” she replied, her voice firm, carrying a quiet confidence that left no room for doubt.

There was no teasing in her expression, no hint of the usual playfulness that often accompanied her words.

This was different. This was real.

“You’ve just... never said anything... Before, I mean,” you tell her, drawing your hand back slightly only for Natasha to hold your wrist still. You took a deep breath. “You’ve always said that you don’t like getting too attached to anyone.”

Natasha’s gaze softened as your words hung in the air. It was true—she had always been the one to keep her distance, to draw a line between herself and everyone else. Attachment was dangerous. It made you vulnerable; it made you weak. And in her line of work, weakness could get you killed. She’d lived by that rule for so long that it had become second nature, a part of who she was.

But looking at you now, with the worry and confusion etched across your beautiful face, Natasha felt all of that unraveling. The walls she’d built so carefully over the years crumbled piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the raw, undeniable truth of what she felt.

“I know,” Natasha said quietly, her voice carrying a weight that matched the heaviness in her chest. She hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain something she’d never really let herself admit. “I said that because I thought it would make me lose focus. But with you…”

She trailed off, her eyes searching yours, hoping that somehow you could understand what she was struggling to say. “With you, it’s different. It always has been. I didn’t want to admit it, maybe because I was scared… scared of what it would mean. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this... like I don’t want this.”

“I’ve actually been trying to ask you out on a date these past couple weeks.” Natasha took a breath, her hand moving to cover yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Had it all planned out... But I never found the right time to ask you.”

You smiled softly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied, shaking her head.

Your smile grew, the tension in your shoulders easing as you absorbed Natasha’s confession.

Her hand remained on yours, her thumb still brushing lightly against your skin. “But if, for whatever reason, you don’t want to or... don’t feel the same way... that’d be okay. It’ll take me a while to get over, but I don’t want to force you.”

Your heart ached at the thought of Natasha being hurt and her struggling through rejection. The sincerity in Natasha’s voice, the way she laid her feelings bare with such honesty, made your decision clear. You reached out and shook your head, your thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Natasha,” you said softly, your eyes meeting hers.

The words seemed to hang in the air, a delicate promise of something new, something hopeful. Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she processed your words.

“And... I’d really love to go on that date with you.”

Natasha’s heart leaped at your response, relief and joy flooding through her. The uncertainty that had clouded her mind for weeks, the fear of rejection, seemed to dissipate in an instant. Your smile, soft and warm, was like a beacon of hope that cut through the fog of Natasha’s doubts. The way your eyes sparkled with affection made Natasha’s chest tighten with a happiness she hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel before.

“Yeah?” Natasha’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if she couldn’t quite believe the words that fell from your mouth. She imagined every negative scenario and had been bracing herself for disappointment, for the possibility that her feelings might not be reciprocated, and to hear your affirmation was everything to her.

Your smile grew even wider, your eyes meeting her green ones with a tenderness that made Natasha’s breath catch.

“Yeah,” you said softly, her voice steady and sincere.

Natasha’s thumb gently caressed your hand, her gaze lingering on your face. “I’m really glad to hear that,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “Just... let me know when you’re free, and we’ll make it happen.”

You give her a look. “How about when you’re fully healed, hm?”

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the warmth in her eyes as she met your playful gaze.

“Deal,” she said with a grin, her voice carrying a note of playful defiance. She shifted slightly on the bed, trying to ease her discomfort, but her smile remained. “I guess, to make sure I heal properly, I’d have to let you take care of me a little longer. Not that I’m complaining about that.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’re not,” she said, her tone teasing yet affectionate.

Natasha’s heart swelled at your words, the playfulness in your voice making her feel cherished in a way she hadn’t expected.

You rolled your eyes and smiled at her, “Now, let me finish. You’re distracting me.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and she sighed, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Okay, baby. I’ll be good,” she replied, her voice low and tender, the endearment slipping out naturally, almost as if it were second nature.

Your cheeks flushed deeper, your eyes flickering up to meet Natasha’s for a moment before you quickly looked away, trying to maintain her professional composure. Both the embarrassment and focus in your expression were endearing, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel like she was over the moon.

As you continued your work, gently dabbing the last of the ointments and soothing creams on her, Natasha stayed quiet, simply enjoying the sight of you and the way you moved with purpose and care. There was something comforting about being cared for by someone she loved, and in these moments, Natasha felt grateful and at peace.

When you finished, you pulled away to clean your hands as Natasha laid her head back against the adjustable bed, the head of it raised up comfortably for her to lean against. She let out a quiet breath as her head sank into the pillow. The tension that had coiled through her muscles slowly unwound, leaving her feeling weightless, almost serene. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft smile played on her lips. The cool air of the med bay, the distant hum of machines, all faded into the background as she focused on the lingering warmth of your touch, the way your fingers had brushed against Natasha's skin so gently.

The pain that had been gnawing at her ribs was a dull, distant ache now, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. She let herself sink deeper into that feeling, savoring it, her thoughts blissfully quiet for once.

She was content—more content than she could remember being in a long time. This was enough—your presence, the gentle care you had shown, the soft, lingering scent of antiseptic, and something sweeter, something uniquely you. Natasha's smile deepened, and she sighed softly, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection. She could stay here forever, knowing you were right next to her.

And then, just as Natasha felt herself drifting on the edge of sleep, she heard your voice—soft, tentative, pulling her back from the brink.

“Natasha.”

“Hm?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t think I’ve said it yet,” she heard you say, your voice shy but sure. “But, I love you, too.”

Natasha's eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice, her heart skipping a beat as she registered the words. She lifted her head, her gaze locking onto your face, which was now tinged with a soft blush. For a moment, Natasha just stared at you, caught off guard by the sudden rush of warmth spreading through her chest as she looked at you. You stood there, absentmindedly wiping your hands clean. But your usual composed demeanor was now softened, your shyness making you seem even more beautiful in Natasha’s eyes. The way you flushed, the way your lips curled into that shy smile—it all felt like a dream.

Without thinking, driven purely by instinct, Natasha tried to sit up, ignoring the sharp protest from her broken rib. Her only focus was you—your face, your lips—drawing nearer, as if she were being pulled by an invisible force. She needed to close the distance; she needed to feel those soft lips of yours against hers.

But before she could move any closer, your hand was there—firm yet gentle—against her chest, guiding her back down with a tender but insistent pressure.

“Whoa, hey,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern as you kept Natasha in place, your touch more soothing than restraining. “Don’t move. You need to minimize all movement.”

Natasha let out a frustrated exhale, her pout unmistakable as she stared up at you, caught between longing and the dull ache in her side.

“You seriously expect me not to kiss you after you just told me you love me?” She murmured, her voice tinged with a playful defiance, though her body reluctantly surrendered to your care.

“Yes, I do.”

But your lips curled into a knowing smile as you saw the frustration in Natasha’s eyes. With a gentle, playful smile, you leaned down, your lips barely brushing Natasha’s in a tender kiss. The contact was fleeting, but it held a promise of more. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips instinctively moving toward yours in a desperate attempt to deepen the kiss. She sighed against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your lips finally pressing against hers. She felt a surge of warmth as she reached for you, her hand finding its way to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, trying to pull you closer.

But your hand remained steady on Natasha’s chest, a gentle reminder to keep still. You pulled back just enough to keep the kiss from deepening, her breath mingling with Natasha’s as you looked down with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Agent Romanoff,” you said softly, her tone both affectionate and teasing. “I do believe I told you to rest.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a playful pout, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gazed up at you, her thumb caressing the skin behind your ear as her hand rested against the side of your neck.

“You know,” Natasha said, her voice a sultry whisper, “I’m starting to think you enjoy having this kind of power over me.”

You chuckled, narrowing your eyes as you gave her a sexy glance. “Maybe,” she admitted, her smile widening.

Natasha grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she relaxed back against the pillow. “Well, if this is what it takes to get more of those kisses,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “then I might just have to let you boss me around a bit longer.”

Your cheeks flushed with a soft pink, your eyes shining amusement. You leaned down again, giving Natasha one last gentle peck before pulling back, your hand still resting lightly on Natasha’s chest. You pulled back slightly, your expression softening as you met her eyes.

“Rest,” you said sternly, though your voice held a trace of affection. The authority in your tone was undeniable, but it was softened by the warmth of her gaze.

Natasha’s smile lingered, a hint of playful defiance still dancing in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied softly, her voice carrying a teasing edge despite her agreement.

She sank back into the bed, the pain in her ribs momentarily forgotten as she focused the thought of your presence, your gentle hands, and your soft, delicious lips. As Natasha lay back against the pillow, her body finally succumbing to the soothing embrace of rest, contentment washing over her. The pain in her ribs seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the warmth of your presence.

Later, opening her eyes for a moment, she could see you sitting beside her, comfortably nestled into that same chair, now with a book in your hand. The sight of you getting ready to be absorbed in your reading, keeping Natasha company as she rested, filled her peace.

She reached out to you with a quiet, unspoken need, finding your hand resting gently on the bed. Noticing the gesture, you let Natasha’s fingers settle softly into your own, allowing your hands to rest together against the cool sheets. With a soft smile, you held the book in your other hand, the pages casually open, resting comfortably on your lap. As Natasha’s fingers intertwined with yours, your touch remained light and soothing, squeezing softly as you held her hand. As her eyelids grew heavy and the soothing pull of sleep began to claim her, she relished the comfort of your hand in hers. The warmth of your fingers, soft and steady, felt perfect in hers. The subtle pressure of your grip was calming, intimate, and gentle, wrapping Natasha in a warmth she’d like to keep forever. Knowing you were there eased Natasha into that peacefulness she aimed to never lose.

And with a soft sigh, Natasha closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic sound of your gentle breathing lull her into a serene sleep. Her thoughts drifted, focused on dreaming of you, excited for what the future had in store for the two of you. The gentle light of the bedside lamp cast a warm glow—with Natasha’s face peaceful in sleep, and you occasionally glanced down at your joined hands before returning to your book.

note: i think i may have gotten carried away womp womp (also there’s no masterlist yet for natasha since this is my first one)

#bellaveux writes!#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #fanfiction #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff fanfic #avengers x reader

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