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kitten4sannie · 8 months ago

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pairing: werewolf! mingi x hunter! reader (fem)

genre: fluff, romance, smut

summary: you seemingly end up biting off more than you can chew upon discovering that the beast you hunted down for dinner is not what it seems.

w.c: 4.5k (more plot than smut this time hehe)

warnings: needy soft dom! mingi, sub! reader, pet names + praise only (shocking ik), pheromones mentioned, possessiveness, kissing, groping, tit play, spit + drool bc wolf mingi is a messy boy <3, mingi eats out reader like she’s his last meal 🫶🏼, SIZE KINK,,, feral unprotected sex, knotting <333, bulge kink/cum inflation, breeding kink ofc

a/n: IT’S FICTOBER TIME BITCH LETS FUCKING GOOO 🗣️ i am fashionably late ~ but i have come here to humbly offer you lovestruck werewolf mingi 🐺 <3 this is the softest my fictober stories will get btw lol it’s gonna be depravity from here on out ^^ oh and i’m sorry if this fic seems disjointed in any way,, i have a lot on my mind these days but regardless i hope you enjoy ~~

pssst: thank you so, so much for 5.5k followers !! it’s honestly insane to me and i still can’t fathom it hehe but the support and love means so very much to me <333

song rec: say - keshi

fictober 2024

You knew better than to hunt at night, but your rumbling stomach begged to differ. The evening air was frigid, sitting heavily inside your lungs each time you regrettably breathed it in, your hefty pelt only doing so much to keep you safe from the powerful winds that continually blew through the vast forest around you. You pulled the hood of your pelt down for a moment, the familiar sounds of wildlife finally making their way to your now exposed ears, though a freezing breeze made its mark on the soft flesh of your rosy cheeks and nose. You bit into your chapped bottom lip, surveying your surroundings for something you’d be able to feast on once you were back inside the safety of your cabin, thanking the gods for the decent visibility you had from the full moon above.

The longer you sat there in silence, your body never growing acclimated to the fierce winter temperatures, you began to fall susceptible to exhaustion, the kind that had sunk its way deep into your bones in the same way your loneliness had for years at a time, feeling so heavy you retired from your once rigid stance and slumped down against the oak tree behind you. A few winks of sleep couldn’t possibly hurt you, not when you were quick to rise and fight if need be, your trusty bow and arrow at your side, as well as a pocket knife always sitting in its holster at your hip. You would be up as soon as you had the strength to open up your eyes and go on.

You eventually woke up to the sound of howling. It had been so distinctly powerful that it was most likely produced by a large wolf, perhaps the leader of a pack. It was then that the culprit of the noise stalked past a few nearby trees and bushes, its dark shaggy coat leaving it virtually impossible to see due to the way it blended in so seamlessly. Leaving abnormally big paw prints behind in the ground below, it slowly paced back and forth in front of you, still quite a distance away from you, but getting closer and closer with each step it made, its large brown eyes piercing right through yours and seemingly gazing upon your soul, deeply fixated on your presence.

It was much larger than any wolf you had seen in your entire lifetime, more akin to a dire wolf, which you had only seen in books, as it had been extinct for hundreds of years before, yet it was…so familiar. Still trapped inside the limbo of the dream you were initially having and your reality, you weren’t completely sure if what was happening before you was actually real. Not only that, but you had the sudden urge to be at the mercy of the wolf, even if it meant that you’d end up with your throat between the beautiful creature’s ragged teeth. However, you weren’t going to roll the dice with death, not when you’ve seen past loved ones get their lives snuffed out by a predator half the size of the one that was suddenly eagerly making its way towards you.

Just before the wolf could reach you, your bow was drawn, the feathered arrow slicing into the cold skin of your cheek as it sailed through the air and lodged itself into the creature’s shoulder, your eyes shut tight all the while. What you expected to hear were the familiar pained whines of a canine but you instead were exposed to the lower pitched groans of a man, causing you to freeze, your eyes opening back up, now widened like marbles. The last thing you were expecting to see was another human, not when you lived alone in the woods for so long, and especially not a man that was stark naked and cowering in pain, with tears in his glistening eyes, looking at you as though you had betrayed him.

You dropped your bow in favor of being at the strange man’s side, surveying his wound, realizing you were so exhausted and hungry, you must’ve simply imagined the wolf. “I-i thought…” you whispered, mostly to yourself, your voice trailing off, almost surprised to hear it after not using it for so long.

“Is that your way of saying hello?” The man hissed in pain when you touched the site of his wound, pushing your hand away from the broken shard of wood that was still lodged inside his bare shoulder.

“I thought you were…going to kill me…” You reached down and tore off a portion of your thick linen blouse, about to wrap it around the man’s wound when you blocked you with his forearm. “I saw a wolf…”

“Do I look like a wolf?” he pouted, reaching over to hold his shoulder in pain.

“I’m sorry, I–…Please, let me help you. I need to apply pressure,” you reasoned, your face contorted with growing regret and concern.

Studying your body language, the man cautiously let go of his arm and allowed you to wrap the torn linen around the wound site, biting into his lip all the while, letting out a few pained grunts. “Hurts…”

“I know, I’m almost done, I promise…” you whispered softly near him, taking a second to share a look with the man, apologizing once again with your softened gaze and upturned brows.

Once you were done, he leaned forward slightly into your personal space to study you, his eyes widened once again, this time with curiosity and admiration, already trusting you despite remnants of your arrow still left inside him.

You bit into your lip, letting out a small breath, which turned into condensation as soon as it left your mouth. “I didn’t think anyone else lived in this forest…Where did you come from?”

Afraid that you would find his true identity to be far too much for you to handle, he thought it would be better to hide it. “Some would call me a nomad…I’m here, there, everywhere, really.”

You nodded at his words, noticing once again that he lacked clothes when you were finally able to pull your attention away from his hypnotizing likeness, never having been drawn to someone like this before. It was then that you averted your eyes with diligence, your once cold cheeks growing warmer the more he stared at you. It took all your strength to return his gaze for just a moment. “Do nomads usually wander around the woods without proper clothing?”

“Well–” The werewolf’s vision went dark for a second, as your pelt was thrown onto him. He pulled it down just enough to continue admiring the human he had been watching from a distance for so long, blowing a few strands of dark shaggy hair out of his sight. “I’m Mingi, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N,” you answered sheepishly, not sure why the strange man was so keenly interested in you, especially after you just shot him with an arrow.

“Y/N,” he repeated lovingly, enjoying the way it sounded, slowly sitting up until little white dots began to dance around his vision. “I don’t feel so good.” When Mingi fell forward into your arms, he couldn’t help but smile. You smelled so pretty, just like he had imagined. Warm like cinnamon, smoky like the fire you always kept burning inside your cabin, sweet like flowers in a garden he would roll around in when no one was around. You smelled like home.

It took most of your strength helping the injured man back to your cabin, immediately laying him down in your bed and pulling your warm blankets up over him. To beat the freezing temperature inside your cabin, you quickly tossed a few pieces of wood in the fireplace and lit it up. You stayed crouched near the controlled flames for a little while to make sure the fire stayed alive, until your company let out a soft groan of pain. Now at his side, you pulled the pelt from his shoulders and frowned at the extent of the damage you caused, tears pricking at your eyes. “You’re still bleeding, Mingi…I’m so sorry…I need to stitch you up.”

Just as you stood up, Mingi reached up to hold onto the corner of your torn blouse, blinking hazily up at you, a few beads of sweat cascading along his straining neck. “Please, don’t worry about me, love. You’re the one who needs rest.”

“Nonsense.” You shook your head, pulling away to find your sewing kit, your cheeks hot to the touch. Once you found it inside one of your drawers, along with a sleep shirt that had belonged to a previous loved one, you returned to Mingi’s side. “Now, stay still, okay?”

“I’ll do whatever you need from me.” Mingi slowly sat up and rested his back against the headboard, watching with interest as you expertly sewed his wound closed, quite fond of the way you took care of him, and of how close you were to him, your hand resting on his chest for stability as you worked. Before you could pull your hand away from his body, he placed his over yours, unintentionally allowing you to feel his rapid heartbeat. “Thank you for this. Anyone else would’ve left me for the wolves.”

Biting into your lip, you couldn’t help but take into account the way his hand completely enveloped yours, truly forgetting just how important physical touch and connection with others was until this very moment, now that his warm skin was pressing into yours. “I-it’s nothing, really…”

“No, it’s not just nothing,” Mingi pouted, slowly bringing your hand up against his cheek to gently nuzzle into it. He couldn’t believe he had gotten this close to you, the special human he had been head over paws for ever since he had seen you for the first time. “It’s everything. You saved me.”

It was almost as if this stranger had escaped one of the novels you read over and over, seeming too good to be true. “It was the least I could do after I hurt you…”

It was when Mingi began to look at you for too long, with that unwavering longing in his eyes, that you cleared your throat and stood up, announcing, “I think I’ll make us some nice, warm soup. How does that sound?”

It took everything in Mingi not to let out a few celebratory howls, instead nodding his head eagerly, his shaggy brown hair bouncing. “I’ve always wanted to try your food. I can smell it from outside sometimes and it always makes my stomach rumble.”

You began to expertly chop up vegetables, stopping mid slice when you digested Mingi’s interesting choice of words. “So you know of me?”

“I-i do,” he nodded shyly, despite your back being turned away from him.

“Have you been watching me, Mingi?” you asked after a few more minutes of silence, your knife now slicing into the last few potatoes you had pulled from your garden before winter began.

“….Admiring you,” he gently corrected, knowing his big fluffy ears would be splayed out in embarrassment if they were there.

Just as you began to pour the cut up vegetables into the pot of boiling broth, you blushed and jolted suddenly from the implications of the handsome stranger’s words. Your elbow knocked into the side of your cleaver, causing it to slip off the edge of the wood counter. Before you could blink, Mingi had already caught the handle of the cleaver, slowly standing up by your side, officially displaying the sheer size difference between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, love…” Mingi set the cleaver back down onto the counter, reaching over to touch your hand with a gentleness you hadn’t experienced before.

The speed and quickness of Mingi’s reaction was incomprehensible; you were still reeling from it. Now he stood beside you, his size and stature more akin to a beast in human form than a simple man. Not only that, but the hand that was overlapping yours felt hot to the touch, like Mingi had a furnace burning away inside of him. You had heard stories of shapeshifters that lived in dense forests much like the one you called home. They had been around for centuries, living amongst themselves, never interacting with humans, able to take the form of beasts at will. You glanced out your window, peering up at the bright orb looming over you. It was a full moon, after all — but did myths like that really exist in the real world?

“Mingi…are you…?” Your words began to die inside your mouth as soon as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place inside your mind. You couldn’t deny the connection you felt with Mingi, knowing that your total isolation played a part in your desire to let him in. It clouded your mind. You were growing so tired, you almost didn’t seem to mind if he wasn’t strictly human.

Mingi smiled softly down at you, one of his canine teeth poking out past his plump lips, leaning himself down a bit to shorten the distance between you. He waited eagerly for you to finish your question, tilting his head to the side, having to blow his hair out of the way.

“Are you hungry?” you finally asked, lowering the flame on the stove so that the soup could settle now that it was ready to serve.

Mingi’s lips formed a silent ‘o’, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you might’ve been on the same page about your mutual attraction, but he was beginning to suspect that his obsession with you was one sided. It’s not like you had imprinted on him; it was the other way around. Silly wolf.

Before Mingi could cry about it, he tasted something so delicious, he couldn’t help but let out an enthusiastic ‘mmm!’. You had slipped a soup spoon into his open mouth, allowing him to try the first homemade meal he’s ever had in his life, one that you had made for the both of you to share together within the sanctity of your cabin, away from the bitter isolation of the forest. He was a silly wolf, after all, because this, this was love.

“Good?” you gauged softly, your eyebrows upturned with sheepish anticipation.

“Good! Ahhh~” Mingi licked his lips and opened up again, savoring the warm, comforting feeling inside his stomach once you fed him another bite. “I’ve never had something this delicious before.”

“Oh, stop,” you blushed, pouring some soup into a bowl and handing it to Mingi, shocked to see him bring it up to his mouth and gulp it down. “Oh, you weren’t lying…were you?”

Mingi’s brown eyes were round, shiny like marbles, filled with unwavering sincerity. “Everything tastes better when you’re with the one you love…”

You almost choked on your own soup, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “D-did I hear that right…?”

Mingi was a romantic at heart. He couldn’t help it, especially when the moon was so big and bright, glowing with everlasting light. She was reminding him to be brave. “Y/N, do you believe in love at first sight?”

Your heart thumped away inside your chest, a steady reminder that you were alive, and not alone for the first time in a long time. “I think I might…Is that crazy?”

Mingi brought his hand up to his face to hide the way it scrunched up with pure joy, his cheeks rosy and full of warmth. “If it is, then I must be too.”

“Where…have you been all this time? I’ve been waiting…for someone like you…” You slowly reached up to pull his hand down, bringing it to your own face, pressing your cold cheek into his large palm. “For someone to keep me warm.”

He had been there all this time; you just hadn’t seen him yet. But now, you would see all of him. Without thinking, Mingi brought his other hand to your face, gently cupping your cheeks and bringing himself down so that he could press his lips onto yours. It took everything in him to pull away just enough to whisper, “I’m here now. Is that…better?”

For the first time, you felt like you could let your guard down, not be the lonely, hardened hunter you had to be. Now that you were safe, you could take a rest. “Better,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around Mingi’s neck just in time to lay against his chest, losing the strength to stay awake.

You woke up to the sensation of something intensely warm wrapped around you from behind, someone’s lips idly pressed to the nape of your neck, what felt like fluffy ears twitching near your hair, the soft fur tickling your exposed skin. The air around you was hot and heavy like you were stuck inside an oven, an enticing aroma of spiced cinnamon and woody musk clouding your senses. Your eyelids fluttered open, first noticing two strong arms locked around your middle, realizing Mingi was holding you close to him, his heated chest pressing into your back.

Overcome by the memories of earlier, the forgotten intimacy of being touched and held by someone, the intense pheromones you were practically doused in, and the want, the need to be truly seen by Mingi, despite having just met a few hours ago, you attempted to turn around to face him, only to have him tighten his grip just enough to keep you still. “M-mingi, I want to look at you…I’m not mad, I just–”

“Do you know what you’re getting into, love?” he whispered in a gravelly voice into your ear, sounding like he had just woken up out of a deep sleep, sending a rush of goosebumps across your skin with just his words. “I’m not…what you think I am.”

You sheepishly pushed back against Mingi, hearing him let out a soft groan, knowing he was just as satisfied with the way your body felt against his. “I already know, Mingi…I trust you. I’m not scared.” You felt his grip loosen up around your waist, opting to cement his hands around your waist.

His lips were now pressing directly onto the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Do you know what I am, Y/N? Do you wish to see?”

“I do…”

It was then that Mingi climbed on top of you, his broad naked body keeping the glowing orange light of the fire from reaching you, the pelt you had offered him earlier falling into a pile on the side of the bed. Filled with a sense of lustful wonder, you studied Mingi, your half-closed eyes trailing along his tan skin, noticing how his wound had already healed completely, unable to ignore the arousing addition of his elongated canine teeth and the way his tongue ran across them. “You’re a…werewolf…”

Mingi’s fluffy wolf ears twitched slightly, listening closely to the way your breath hitched. “Most would be scared of me, but you…you like this.”

You swallowed harshly, still finding it very difficult to breathe in the air around you, Mingi’s dominating presence further encouraging you to submit. “Will you eat me?”

Mingi let out a small puff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth curling up into an amused smile, lowering himself further onto you, knowing his heavy cock was pressing into your heat through your linen trousers. His lips ghosted along your jaw, the bushy end of his tail gliding back and forth along one of your ankles, replicating the light strokes of a paintbrush. “Only in the way that would have you begging for more.” The small moan that escaped your throat didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He nosed at your neck, resisting the urge to lick and bite at it. “Though, i won’t do anything without your permission, love.”

You cupped your hands around his heated face, your insides feeling as if they had been set ablaze. “Do with me what you will, Mingi. I insist.”

When Mingi’s lips parted, you pressed yours onto them with a fervor you didn’t realize you possessed. The kiss grew more and more intense, the two of you holding onto one another as though you were afraid it all would end too soon, taking turns licking into each other’s willing mouths, breathing in each other’s air when you grew dizzy.

Growing frustrated with the lack of skin on skin contact, Mingi pushed his large hands up past the hem of your woolen top and slid it off of you, admiring the soft curves of your exposed breasts, before his desperation kicked in and he nuzzled his face against them, sighing onto your skin. “Beautiful…” He dragged his tongue up in between your tits, grabbing one while he sucked desperately on the other, a low growl erupting from his throat.

“Mingi,” you moaned out, your back arching, only encouraging him to see what other pretty noises he could get you to make, gasping when his sharp teeth teased your sensitive nipples.

He licked over them to ease the sudden bout of pain, unable to keep himself from sucking one of them into his mouth, apologizing with his upturned eyebrows and his big, round eyes.

You simply couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him to make a mess of your aching cunt, feeling your wetness stick to the thin linen material of your pants as you kicked them off. “Mingi, more, please, need more…”

The werewolf knew what you needed when your fingers slid into his soft hair, leaving kisses along your bare body as he moved down south, getting himself comfortable between your spread thighs. “You want me to eat you up, yeah?” He spread your pussy open with his thumbs, nosing at it to inhale your flowery scent, quite aware that it bumped into your clit when he gave your slit an experimental lick, just enough to collect your essence on his tongue. “My beloved needs me to ravage her?”

“Yes, plea–oh, my god,” you reacted whinily, your thighs involuntarily pressing into the sides of his head just as he dove in, which he grabbed onto, pushing them up and out of his way, his lips and tongue already working in tandem to drive you to a place of pleasure you’ve never been before.

Mingi devoured your cunt in true animalistic fashion, licking and slurping up your juices as soon as it spilled out of you, just to spit it it back onto your slit and drink it all down, eventually plugging you up with his large tongue to feel you throb, unable to keep himself from fucking you with it until you began to cry out his name in between unintelligible words, your fingers tugging on his hair.

So good, it’s so good, nnnghh, i’m–” You cut yourself off once your impending orgasm took over your body, barely able to register Mingi rubbing soft circles into your shaking thighs and leaving kisses across your inner thigh and on your sensitive clit. You were finally brought back to earth when Mingi’s arousal coated tongue slipped into your mouth, his heated body pressing heavily into yours, gasping into his mouth as soon as Mingi began to desperately rut against you, doing your best to swallow his drool. It was when he whimpered that you broke the desperate kiss, asking softly, “What is it, dear? Tell me what you need.”

“Need you, need to be inside you,” Mingi exhaled against your jaw, letting out a few shaky breaths, unable to keep himself from sinking his claws into your sheets, clearly at his limit. “Can I…? Please?”

“Have your way with me, Mingi,” you granted his wish, welcoming him with open arms, just as he folded you up into a mating press and began to pound himself into you.

Mingi knew that such an intimate position would almost guarantee that you would home his pups after the very first knot. It drove him crazy. He couldn’t help but fuck into you as hard and fast as he could, emitting a animalistic grunt or growl with each thrust he made into your dripping cunt, a few drops of drool escaping past his plump lips and landing on your flushed, sweat-ridden face. “You’re mine now, love. My mate. I’m going to breed you.”

“Y–ours…!” you could barely enunciate, not when he kept punching the air out of your petite body when his oversized one came in contact with yours, his heavy cock continually slipping back into your willing hole with so much ease, it was clear that you were made for him.

“Mine. My pretty little mate, all for me.” It was then that Mingi bit down into your neck, hard enough that he could leave his mark on you, a white hot streak of pleasure shooting through your spine as he did so.

It felt so good, you could’ve swore you were already cumming, dragging your nails down his broad back, your eyes disappearing underneath your fluttering eyelashes. The werewolf didn’t seem to get tired, no matter how many times you came undone, his large hands still tugging on your hips, forcefully guiding you back onto his cock as though you were a simple doll, at least until you felt a new sensation, something stretching you open even further. “Haaah, it’s so big…”

“That’s my knot, love. Will you take it, Y/N?” he panted into your ear, licking and nibbling at it as his husky voice finally penetrated your hazy mind.

“Yes, give it to me, please, Min…”

He hummed against your skin, running his hands along the soft edges of your heated body. “I’ll breed you full…so full of my cum, you’ll be carrying my pups by the next full moon.”

Something about what Mingi said altered the state of your mind on a primal level, your thighs automatically hooking around the werewolf’s waist, your arms around his neck to hold him impossibly close. You wouldn’t be alone anymore. You had a “mate,” like Mingi had lovingly coined the phrase. You would be his, and he was yours, and something so simple made you feel safe.

“Yes, please.”

It wasn’t the heavy knot that stretched you wide and locked you in that brought tears to your eyes, but the sudden, hot, seemingly endless rush of cum that flooded your womb that made you cry. Mingi rubbed gentle circles over the small pouch that joined the prominent bulge his cock made inside your abdomen. “You did so well, love, so good for me,” he cooed at you, giving your cheek a few loving licks. “You were made for me.”

“I was just thinking that,” you sighed softly, running your fingers through his matted, sweaty hair, loving how it felt to have him still stay inside you, keeping all his love from pouring out. It just felt right. Being here with Mingi felt right, like you had always been waiting for him to fall into your life.

“That’s because you’re my other half.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before resting his against yours. “It was destined.”

“For me to shoot you with an arrow?” you joked, reaching up to gently play with one of his furry ears.

Mingi nuzzled into your touch, wanting to stay with you in that moment, that warm bed, that cozy little cabin that kept you both safe for as long as he could. “I would get shot a million times over, if it meant that I could meet you again.”

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daughterwifed · 26 days ago

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ROUTE 69 !

ft. di!leon kennedy x woc!reader

tags. piv, smut, cop!leon, ignorance/racism but not on purpose 😭, leon woc fetishiser, blowjob, public sex, car sex, creampie

notes. im scared 2 post this all I have to say is im a fat brown woman and um my belly fat is going to shield me from any backlash.. this fic was much worse and then I changed it to di leon and made it more of him being ignorant without realising n having a fetish. readers race/ethnicity isn’t specified but since im south asian i did write it w myself in head .. reading this back it’s very south asian actually wow. some bits r taken from my old n deleted fics if they sound familiar 😴 i’ve been writers blocked 4 months so this is clunky n disjointed,, feedback n rbs always appreciated :3 UNEDITED!!!!!!!!

You get pulled over beside a cornfield—Where Leatherface met Sally.

Okay, sure, you were speeding, like, a little bit, but it’s not like there’s anyone to crash into, there’s no schools around here so no kid is going to wander into the road and splat against your windshield like a bug, and there’s no deers so you really don’t see the problem. This road is long and winding like an unfurled spool of silver ribbon, it’s scary, and the only source of light is the fucking moon, and while there’s probably only a 0.01% chance of something happening to you—This is Midwest America you’re talking about - land of the free, birthplace of literally every serial killer like ever.

They have it all here: killer clowns, rapists, somebody’s coworker, zodiac killers, night stalkers, mommy’s boys and cannibals.

An entire carousel of freaks.

He’s just a cop, you tell yourself, some overweight, gun-slinging, bible-thumping degenerate that has to pick on generally polite and law-abiding women like me to feel good about himself.

You press your face against the wheel and try not to think of Jason and Michael Myers and that terribly evil, big-nosed clown with his stupidly small top hat.

Tap, tap, tap.

You don’t even look when you roll down the window, not until he sighs deeply and gives a pointed, “Ahem.”

Don’t look at him wrong. Don’t smile at him wrong. Don’t even breathe wrong. Don’t give him a reason.

When you lift your head you're met with his crotch. It’s not exactly a sight for sore eyes, but it’s not exactly unwelcome—You can tell by those hands and those thighs and—well—that dick that you’ve got him all wrong. He’s not fat or ugly. He’s a hot gun-slinging, bible-thumping cop, and somehow that’s even worse.

“Do you know how fast you were going—“ He adjusts his belt, probably shifts his dick from one side to the other side of his obscenely tight uniform before he bends down to peer into your window. “—ma’am?”

Oh god.

He’s like hot hot.

Somewhere between retired underwear model and vintage pornstar hot. His eyes are the type of blue you'd like to dip your toes into, and his name badge says Kennedy.

“Fast enough to get your attention?” You smile at him hopefully, sitting up straighter and shifting your body towards the window to show him your perfectly planted cleavage.

Officer Kennedy seems to take that into consideration, nodding thoughtfully while he looks right down your work blouse and at the scalloped cups of your lucky lace bra. It’s always been there to get you out of a pinch—like that presentation today, if you hadn’t stood directly under that spotlight with that bra and that sheer blouse, you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be getting a promotion and such a glowing recommendation.

When he’s done checking you out, Officer Kennedy asks for your license and registration, you rifle around in the glove compartment and pretend not to notice a pack of condoms falling to the ground.

He leans forward, peering through the open window, yoi catch sight of the ID clipped to his shirt. “Think we might have a code M&M on our hands,” Officer Leon Kennedy says.

“A what?” You dig out your insurance papers and hand them over, fingers trembling when you go to get your license from your card wallet—You haven’t done anything bad, you went over the speed limit, it’s not like you’re lying about your papers, it’s not like you have a body in the trunk—It’s just the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s speaking to you.

“Y’know, Mexican or Muslim—Aw, don’t look at me like that, it’s just a joke, don’t make me feel bad about a joke.” He clicks his tongue like he’s embarrassed. “I’m not like that,” Leon continues as he squints at your license, “I don’t have a problem with anyone or anything, it’s just how we talk down at the station.”

You just blink at him. What are you even meant to say to that?

“Tough crowd.” He shrugs and hands everything back to you, for just a moment you think you might be able to get away with a slap on the wrist, but you don’t go to his church, you don’t sound like him, you don’t wave around little flags on the Fourth of July, you’ve never even had a casserole, and you most certainly don’t look like anyone he would call a friend. “Here ya go.” He sticks his hand through the window, waving around a fine.

“I can’t pay that,” you blurt out, and you want to be smart and tell him that you know speeding doesn’t cost that much, he could just give you a point on your license and it would all be fine and dandy, but you’re panicking.

“Didn’t think so.” Leon gives you a pointed look—Like, like he planned this, like he’s setting you up, and he is, he so is—You’re tired and upset and wary about the gun he’s wielding on that belt. “You know,” he sighs, glances at your strategically unbuttoned shirt, “there’s something else you could do for me.”

Okay, this is good, it sounds more like the start of a bad porno than a horror movie and you’re alright with that. You can do porn, you can take dicks, but you can’t take chainsaws or hooks or needles or anything of the sort.

To be coy, you blink at him slowly, tears beading your lashes like morning dew. “I have a boyfriend, Officer.”

“Ah…” Leon seems to take it seriously, like abusing authority is fine as long as a woman’s single—but the moment she’s taken? He’s got morals. “Arranged marriage, huh?”

You blink at him. Again. And again. And again.

“No…” You say slowly—Oh, what the hell. “Yeah, forced marriage, it’s a whole thing, if I don’t make it back tonight I'm in for a beating—That’s why I was speeding actually, officer, I just want to get home before it’s too late.”

“Damn shame.” Leon shakes his head, the gravel crunching under his boots as he shifts. “Treating a pretty girl like that…Nice skin, pretty hair, big eyes—That’s just not right.”

So he’s like that - the type to call you a princess in bed and a terrorist at the airport, the type to fuck you and let you know that his buddies can’t find out about this, he doesn’t change the radio station when a rap song comes on when he drops you two blocks away from your house.

“Listen, sweetheart, you seem like a good girl, girls like you, they're good in school, study hard, doctors, lawyers, all that stuff—“ He makes a vague hand gesture that is neither here nor there. “—So I don’t wanna give you a ticket or a court date, but, uh, that doesn’t come for free.”

“I understand, officer.” You bat your lashes at him, biting back a smile. This isn’t so bad, you got a promotion and now you’re getting laid. There’s no axe murderers or rapists in sight, just a cop with his dick in the right place.

“Good girl.” He nods, pleased, and then he switches off his radio. “So, you do that for that prick at home or me?” Leon’s eyes drift to your cleavage, to your thighs in that short skirt, it keeps riding up the more you squirm in your seat.

“I like uniforms,” you tell him innocently, “can’t help it.”

Leon laughs, slow and knowing. “I bet you do.” His fingers brush his belt, not to reach for his gun, but to unbutton them. You poke your head a little further out the window, his hand finds the back of your head, guiding you to his dick. His gun-slinging, bible-thumping dick that you fully intend to put in your mouth - you’ve made your bed and now you're kneeling in it. “I don’t have a breathalyser with me, so this’ll do.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as your warm mouth closes in on the tip, he’s big, but not in the way that makes your jaw ache—If he wanted to do that he’d find better luck shoving a gun in your mouth.

“Fuck, wait.” He lets out a soft grunt and pulls his cock from your mouth, smudges of red lipstick and strings of spit keeping his tip and your lips together.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him, heart thumping out of your chest—Did he change his mind? Did he have, like, an epiphany? Was it bad? Oh god, what if someone saw you? What if there really is a murderer out here and everybody knows they always go for you when you’re fucking—

Leon opens the back door—You were worried about murderers and hillbillies but your doors weren’t even locked. “Get in the back.”

“Oh.” You let out a breath of relief, climbing over the handbrake and losing a heel on the way over to meet him. He braces an arm against the roof of your car as you kiss the tip off his cock, letting dribbles of pre wet your lips.

“Fuck,” Leon groans, one hand rests atop your head, “you’re trouble, I should’ve cuffed you.”

“I would’ve liked it,” you mumble around a mouthful of fat cock, you should be ashamed of soaking through your poor thong, but you’re not. That ticket would feel a hundred times worse than a sore throat.

“Speak English.” He gives you this cheeky smile when you let out a noise of surprise, but you’re too concerned with taking him deep in your throat to start an argument—So he gets away with it like he has a million times before. If it were any other day you'd give him a piece of your mind. Really, you would. Honest. Once his tip knocks the back of your throat, you start speaking his language, gagging wetly as you swallow around him, one hand trailing down to grasp his heavy balls. You feel him pulse, and he curses under his breath. “That got you going, huh?” He snorts, amused and all sorts of turned on.

When you pull off with a pop, you go straight to licking up the seam of his balls. “You having fun down there, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” It’s muffled as you take one into your mouth and then the other, you like to play with your food, and sucking up (read: off) took you so far in school.

“C’mon, enough of that,” Leon hums, pushing you off gently like you’re a kitten clawing at the hem of his trousers. You go to whine and then wonder what your parents would think of this and zip your mouth shut. Your grandmother came to America for what? For this? For you to let any old pig put his dick in your guts? Whatever. Whatever. He’s a hot pig. He’s like the cutest guy you’ll find for miles, and you’ve already gone to college, you’ve got a good job, why can’t you indulge? “Scooch over.”

You shuffle back, skirt hiking up your thighs until it’s more of a belt, he wedges himself between your thighs—Your legs dangle out the door, and you're still worried something or someone is going to come out of the cornfield waving around a scythe and cut up both your bodies like a canvas, but you’re wet and he’s on top of you and there’s no going back now.

“Wait—Keep it on,” you gasp softly as he lifts the hem of his uniform shirt.

“Why? You like it?” He asks, blinking at you with those big blue eyes, they’re clear like a summer afternoon.

Obviously.

“I dunno…I kinda like it, feels wrong.” You take his hand in yours once he drops the bunched up fabric, bringing it to feel how wet you’ve gotten.

“What? The badge? The uniform?” He looks smug, like you're some kinky act of rebellion for him—Well, you don’t really have the right to speak on things like that.

“The gun,” you say softly, flashing him your sweetest smile.

“You're dirty,” he tells you with a groan, lining up his cock with your soft cunt, dragging the fat head up and down your folds, letting it brush over your throbbing clit just to see you writhe.

“Hurry,” you whine, digging your nails into his biceps, you want him to split you straight down the middle. “Wait—Are you married?”

“Does it matter?” Leon asks before he pushes in with one single glide, you're so wet there’s no resistance, just the slight stretch of a pleasantly big dick, tip nudging your cervix.

“Oh my god.” You drag your nails down his back, legs going rigid as pleasure prickles your spine. “I was just—just wondering.” You bet there’s someone. Blonde, short, small, the kind he can bring home with no judgement.

“Probably should’ve asked before you sucked my dick.” Leon huffs out a breath as he shifts his hips, angling deeper, making you sniffle as he drops his sweaty forehead to press against yours. He’s so deep you feel him everywhere, you can’t escape him and you don’t want to.

His cock drags in and out of your slick cunt, one of his hands is by your head and the other settles on your tummy, trailing down until he finds your swollen clit. The pad of his thumb rolls over the soft bud as he fucks into you, pussy clicking wetly with each sharp thrust.

If you had any dignity left, if you weren’t twenty seconds away from gushing all over him, you'd probably be embarrassed by the noise. The wet squelch each time he bottoms out, the smack of his balls on your ass, the way you’re whining like a fucking, boot-licking idiot.

“Wait—Wait, I can’t—“ You push at his abdomen, wanting him to ease up as you feel the pressure build deep in your gut, there’s no time to feel guilty when it feels so fucking good, when your cunt tightens and he presses down on your clit and your poor Honda Civic—She’s been subjected to a lot tonight.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon cups your cheek, his hand is softer and smaller than you expected, gentler than the one that’s pinching your clit and making you sob into your fist. “Go on, good girl.”

You think you black out when it happens, and you don’t know why. It was good, sure, but it wasn’t, like, deserving of a pornstar reaction, and you just gave that—Boosted his already huge ego, made a fool out of yourself, disappointed whoever in your line of ancestors decided the shift to America was a good idea.

“You do that for your husband?” His voice is strained, his thrusts are sloppy, his mouth is hanging open as he ruts into your messy cunt.

“I don’t actually have—It’s the uniform.” You think about the box of condoms on the floor and hook your legs around him, digging one kitten heel and one regular human heel into his ass to keep him from running away.

Leon’s eyes go wide, he opens his mouth to protest, and then you squeeze his dick so tight it empties his brain and his balls. He even looks good when he cums. Adam’s apple bobbing, lips parted, a perfectly timed rivulet of sweat drips down his temple as he fills you up.

The quiet after all of it is said and done kind of makes you wish you did hear a chainsaw revving somewhere in the distance. He buckles his belt as you pull your thong back into place, dried cum sticking to your thighs, dripping onto your poor old car. You have driven a million relatives back and forth in this little thing, you take your mom to the doctors and your grandma to the grocers and now she’s ruined.

His radio is switched back on, you find both your shoes and place them on the passenger seat. You can’t drive in this state, not when your legs are wobbling so bad you wouldn’t be able to step on the brakes. Maybe that’s what you need to do. Drive head first into a wall.

“I can drive you home,” Leon offers after he watches you stare at the windshield blankly, “Can get somebody to bring your car over in the morning.”

You accept and wonder who he voted for as he drives. His pinned radio stations are all some sort of rock, but there’s no country and that makes you feel a little better.

He grabs your wrist before you get out, all blue-eyed and earnest. “I hope…I hope I didn’t get you into trouble with your folks, I know how they get, your people, I don’t want, uh, anything to happen to you.”

You look at your house. All the lights are off. There’s not a single car parked in the drive. There’s nothing because you live with no one but yourself. You thought cops were meant to have deductive skills.

“And if your husband gives you any trouble, you can call me, for real this time—Not, not for that, but for help,” he finishes clumsily, like he didn’t raw you in the middle of an open road while he was on fucking duty.

“I don’t have…” You look at him, like really hard, remnants of red lipstick on the collar of his blue uniform, his seed staining your panties white. “I’ll tell you if he gives me any trouble,” you say, only because you know he needs a reason to come and see you, he couldn't be casual with somebody like you. He’s going to knock on your door with a warrant just so he can fuck you into your mattress.

“Okay.” He nods, lips twitching into a smile. “I’ll bring the handcuffs next time.”

I’ll bring a fucking veil next time so I can hang you or myself, maybe an anklet or two if you’re into that officer.

You fix a smile onto your face. “Goodnight, Officer.”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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goldenbrowns · 1 month ago

Text

somebody else || bucky barnes x reader || part two

proofread and cowritten with @d4nshyp3r ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

summary: on his 54th birthday, tony stark goes all out and chooses to take all of the avengers to one of his ridiculously many vacation houses, this one in hawaii. given that you're now seeing a guy, you choose to extend an invitation to him so you can spend these two weeks together, enjoying paradise. the only issue is how much bucky randomly despises this new guy, he considers him impossibly annoying, as well as your odd idea to take him on the vacation. after a few days, you notice buckys made it his mission to shoo the guy away...

authors note: really sorry for blue balling in part one :( this took so much longer than I expected, oh my god??

word count: 15k (wtf?)

warnings: 18 plus minors dni, alcohol consumption, swearing, implied sexual themes, dirty talking, smut, oral fem!receiving, oral male!receiving, throat fucking, hand job, fingering, sometimes sub soft bucky (??), bucky is soo desperate, mentions of cheating.

(PART ONE - PART TWO)

Bucky groaned as consciousness slowly crept in, dragging a pounding headache and a dry mouth with it. The morning sunlight was merciless, pouring through the half-open curtains and slicing across the bed. He shifted slightly, the heavy, unfamiliar warmth beside him anchoring him to the mattress. His heart stumbled in his chest as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Carefully, he cracked one eye open. His vision stung for a moment before settling on the face beside him — you, curled up under the sheets, your hair messy, and checking your phone. Panic lanced through him, overriding the ache in his skull. His mind scrambled for memories of last night, but everything after his third—maybe fourth—cup of mead was a hazy, disjointed blur.

"Morning, rockstar," you said, your voice rough from sleep but filled with unmistakable amusement.

Bucky winced, immediately sensing the teasing in your tone. He dragged a hand down his face, half-dreading the answer to the question clawing at his brain. "What... what did I do?"

Keep reading

You stretched languidly, propping your chin on your hand as you watched him with a spark in your eye. "You really don’t remember?"

He let out a miserable groan, throwing an arm over his face. "Depends. How bad was it?"

You grinned wider, absolutely savoring this. "You got up on a makeshift stage, grabbed a mic, and sang Jessie’s Girl to me. In front of the entire party. The entire song. Really loud. Really passionately. I can assure you you're on at least 10 different newspaper headlines, drunkenly singing Jessie's Girl. I can already see it, 'From Assassin to Rockstar: Barnes Belts Out Jessie's Girl'."

Bucky's entire body stiffened. He peeked at you through his fingers, horror dawning across his face. "No. No way."

"Oh, yes way," you said, your voice bubbling with laughter. "You even pointed dramatically at me every time you sang ‘Jessie's Girl.’ Like, dead serious. You looked heartbroken."

A strangled noise escaped him as he rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face into the pillow. "Oh my God."

"And you did a little spin," you added gleefully. "You almost fell off the edge of the stage"

Bucky let out another pathetic groan, burying himself deeper in the sheets as if they could swallow him whole. He wasn’t sure if the pounding in his head was from the hangover or the soul-crushing embarrassment blooming inside his chest. "I’m never drinking again. Never."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching over to poke his side. "You were adorable, though. Everyone loved it."

He turned his face just enough to glare at you, cheeks burning red. "I don’t do adorable. I do badass. I do- I do supersoldier. I do- ugh... " He placed the palms of his hands against his face as he sighed loudly. He looked so defeated.

You snorted. "Last night you definitely did adorable."

Bucky groaned again, rubbing his temples like he could erase the entire memory. But your voice grew softer then, a bit more hesitant.

"And... well... after your big concert, we kinda..." you trailed off, your cheeks heating.

He immediately sat up, the sheet falling to his lap, sudden dread gripping him. "Shit. Did we—? I really don't remember that. Are you okay? Did I—?"

You sat up too, placing a calming hand on his chest. "No, no, it’s okay. We didn’t really get to it... not really. We started kissing and all that, but... I was kind of off, with the whole Mark situation, so we just went to sleep"

Bucky stared at you, mortified beyond belief. “Oh"

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at the sheer misery on his face. "Out like a light. You were trying to tuck yourself in and you just... face planted into the mattress."

He groans again, this time with real frustration in his face, “Wait, what exactly is the situation with Mark?” Did he finally leave?”

Your heart softened at how genuinely confused he seemed. You scooted closer, tugging gently at his arm until he dropped his hands and looked at you, his blue eyes still clouded with shame.

You couldn't help but laugh. “Not exactly, yesterday at Tony's party, he ran off with some other chick.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, and when we were going up to my room, we heard them in there. But it’s fine, I’m over it. I don’t care,” You continued, not letting him answer. You could see the worry on his face slightly turn to anger, which he thought he was doing a good job at hiding. Probably for your sake, wanting to be supportive and all.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. He really doesn’t deserve you.” He tried, and ended it there, clearly not good at comforting people. “His loss, poor bastard doesn't know what he's missing anyway…” He chuckles, trying to lighten up the mood-

"It’s okay, Buck," you said, voice quiet. "He wasn't a great guy either, your performance last night outdid his whole boyfriend career, if I can even call him that." You added with a teasing grin, "And for what it's worth, you were very absolutely adorable and so very enthusiastic before you passed out."

He groaned again, dropping his body onto the mattress, completely defeated. "I am also not that guy. Just kill me now. Please," he says, looking blankly at the ceiling, looking like he's debating on whether to keep speaking. "Yeah, uh... when I drink too much, I enter this really pathetic mode," he said, cringing. "Not 'Winter Soldier'. More like 'someone please tuck me in and tell me I'm doing a good job' mode. It's disgusting. Don’t look at me. It should be fucking illegal"

You keep quiet, admiring his frustration. He's still wincing at the idea of yesterday, you really can't blame him. Suddenly, he stands up and goes to the bathroom, and you can hear him from afar washing his face and brushing his teeth. "Next time," you can hear him say as he dries his face off with a towel, his voice low and certain. "I’m making it perfect. No embarrassing concerts. No drunken disasters."

Next time?

You try to ignore this and not let it get into your head. You shift on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest. "Well," you call out hesitantly, "there’s just one tiny problem."

Bucky steps back into the room, towel slung over his shoulder, shirt nowhere to be seen, raising an eyebrow. "What now?"

"I, uh... I don’t have any clothes," you admit, feeling your face warm. "They're all in my room. You know... the one where Mark is currently living out his worst choices."

Bucky blinks, his mouth tightening for a second like he’s imagining marching down the hall and gutting Mark with his metal arm. But he reins it in quickly, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Awesome," he mutters, then rakes a hand through his hair. "Alright. You’re not going back there right now. That's a given." His tone brooks no argument. "Just... wear something of mine. Closet’s open. Grab a T-shirt and some shorts or something, you know I don't mind. You can grab your stuff later when... the coast is clear."

You smile warmly at him, basking in how domestic this all feels. Bucky's protectiveness sends heat to your stomach, he doesn't know how easy it is to like him.

He tosses you a teasing smirk as he pulls open one of the drawers. "Fair warning, though. My shirts might drown you."

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

You both step into the living room, and it's clear that the aftermath of the party still lingers. The living room is a bit of a disaster—empty cups on the coffee table, confetti in some corners, and the faint scent of spilled drinks in the air. The kitchen’s quiet, save for the clatter of silverware and the hum of the coffee machine. At the breakfast table, Steve and Thor are already there, with Peter sitting across from them, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Peter’s eyes are wide, his shoulders hunched, and he's clearly in full-on panic mode. Peter, for some reason, only has his boxers on and some sunglasses. He’s staring at his phone with a sense of dread, occasionally glancing up like he’s about to bolt. He's sitting there uncomfortably, his shoulders and face are red like a tomato. The sight makes Bucky raise an eyebrow, leaning casually against his chair with an amused smirk.

"Peter, buddy, what’s going on?" Bucky’s voice is smooth, and genuine concern for him is peeking through. He’s leaning against Peter's chair, trying to hide a grin as he watches Peter frantically swipe on his phone.

Peter doesn’t even look up, his voice shaky as he mutters, “I have a test in thirty minutes, okay?! I’ve been studying for weeks! Weeks! And I barely remember half of what I read. I've never been hungover before!" Ugh, poor guy, looks like yesterday was his first time being drunk.

"What do you mean, Pete? I didn't see you once at the party. I thought you were in your room studying." You ask with furrowed brows. You're right, Peter was nowhere to be seen yesterday, you hadn't questioned that up until now.

"Yeah, probably because I took two miserable shots and had the awesome idea of getting naked and throwing myself on the pool floatie. And for some unknown reason nobody thought it was a good idea to wake me up or tell me that the party was over, cause this morning I woke up floating on the goddamn pool with the shape of my sunglasses imprinted into my face" He rambles on without catching his breath, clearly very affected by this.

You stare at Peter, your brows furrowing further as his words sink in. “Wait, you what?” You blink in disbelief, not sure whether to laugh or be concerned.

Peter awkwardly face palms, running a hand through his messy hair, his face red, not just from the burns but also from embarrassment. “Yeah, so, I might have gotten a little carried away... but I swear it seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, I’m a first-time drinker, okay? I didn’t know what I was doing. The floatie was... comfortable.”

You and Bucky sit down at the breakfast table, the sunlight pouring through the large windows, casting a warm glow over everything. You sit on one side of the table, facing the serene view of the pool and the compound’s lush outdoor landscape, while Bucky takes his seat across from you, facing the inside of the compound. It’s peaceful, too peaceful for what you can sense brewing in the air.

As you start to pour some coffee into your mug, you glance up at Bucky, and that’s when you notice it. There’s something off in his expression; he's looking right behind you. Almost like he's zoned off into the distance. But his jaw is unusually tense, the muscles moving beneath his skin, and his eyes are narrowed just slightly—like he's focusing on something, sizing it up. You’ve seen that look before. You know it’s the one he gives Mark whenever the two of them lock eyes. It's a look that says, I'm watching you. And sure enough, just as you turn your head, Mark is stepping into the kitchen.

Mark’s hair is still a bit messy, his shirt rumpled, and he looks half-asleep as he makes his way toward the table. But Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off him. The muscles in his jaw flex again, harder this time. The air seems to thicken as he stares, a hard glint in his eyes. There’s no mistaking it: Bucky’s pissed.

Mark finally notices, glancing around the room before his eyes land on you. “Hey,” he says, offering a hesitant smile as he makes his way toward the breakfast table.

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off Mark. “What, you think you’re just going to walk around here like nothing happened?” he growls, voice low and venomous. “And you're... just here for the mess? Didn’t think you’d want to stick around for this.”

Mark’s face turns a deeper shade of red. "I—" He starts to speak but is cut off by Bucky's scornful laugh.

“You don’t get to talk, Mark,” Steve spits, eyes narrowing. “Not after what you did.”

Peter looks over at you, wide-eyed, and mutters, “This is definitely not how I imagined my first morning in Hawaii."

Mark was obviously taken aback by all of this. He starts conjuring up a comment, which, by the look on his face, is going to be shameless. "Look," he starts, his voice casual, as if he’s the one in control of the situation. "I get it, okay? You're upset. I was drunk, and I made a mistake. But honestly, it’s not like you were all that innocent either." He shrugs, clearly not understanding how wrong this whole situation is. "You were probably off doing your own thing last night, too. I didn’t see you glued to my side, did I?" He finishes off, looking at you.

"Let me make this clear to you, Mark," You start, your gaze fixed on the man like he's a piece of shit. "You didn’t just mess up once. You didn’t ‘get drunk and make a mistake.’ You intentionally decided to disrespect me. You’re not a victim here, so don’t even try to spin it like you are."

Bucky pushes himself off his chair and begins, “Don’t you dare stand there and act like we’re all supposed to feel sorry for you, Mark. You made a choice. You know what you did, and don’t you even think about trying to justify it? You were drunk? News flash, buddy, we all were."

The table stayed quiet, but somehow, even in that peacefulness, you knew everyone agreed with you two.

"No, Bucky, you’re right," you say, taking a deep breath. You turn to Mark, fury building in your chest. "I’ve had enough of this pathetic excuse for a man standing here, acting like he has some right to make this about anything else but him screwing up. I was trying to make things work, even when I knew deep down something felt off. I gave you trust."

Mark shakes his head rapidly and scoffs, like he still thinks this is all a game "Y/n, c’mon, you're exaggerating. You're blowing this out of proportion."

You roll your eyes at his comment."You’re not even good at being a scumbag. Sloppy and stupid? Sad combo." You snap, your voice dripping with venom. "And you know what? You’re right. You don’t owe me anything. And I sure as hell don’t owe you anything either. So take your pathetic excuses and get the hell out of here."

Steve chimes in from the other end of the table, trying to control his desire to punch the living daylight out of him.. "You don’t deserve to even say her name." Steve then stood up after saying this, his chair scraping sharply against the floor. He didn't raise his voice — he didn’t have to. The authority in his tone was enough. "That's enough. You’re not welcome here anymore."

Mark scoffed, attempting one last desperate smirk. "What, Cap? Gonna throw me out yourself?"

Thor, who had been quietly seething, stood as well, still chewing onto a piece of bread loudly. The temperature of the room seemed to shift when he moved.

"Nay, not just him," Thor said, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It will be our honor."

Mark squirmed and protested as they dragged him across the living room, probably screaming all types of curse words at me. His sneakers skidding awkwardly against the polished floors.

"You might wanna pick up some self-respect on the way out," Steve muttered under his breath.

Tony, seemingly out of nowhere, strolled in from the hallway, dressed in a rumpled AC/DC T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. "Oh, hi, Mark," he said casually, dropping the reference with a completely straight face.

Thor, ever dramatic, added, "And if you ever return, pray that I am not here to greet you." He punctuated the threat with a pat on Mark’s back — one that sent him stumbling toward the exit. You didn't really know what was gonna happen with him, where he was gonna go or what he was gonna do. To be honest, you didn't care, but knowing Tony, you knew he was already tapping away on his phone calling a car for the airport.

As Thor and Steve made their way back to the table, Bucky tapped Steve on his back with a grin and said "Well, looks like trash day came early"

Tony, looking up from his phone, analyzed the room once more — the furious faces, the empty spot where Mark had just been dragged out — and pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead.

"Alright," Tony drawled, "which one of you divas broke the compound before I had my coffee?"

Steve shook his head, taking a long break between each word as if looking for the proper phrasing. "Handled a situation."

"Yeah, I saw," Tony deadpanned, glancing at the door. "If you threw him any harder, we’d be getting a noise complaint from space."

Thor grunted, still adjusting his sleeves. "A cheating worm has been exiled."

"Guy must’ve had a death wish," Tony muttered, sipping his coffee. "Honestly, Thor dragging him out is the nicest thing that's ever happened to him. If it were up to me, I would’ve dropped him off of Rockefeller Center."

Peter, still looking groggy, chimed in quietly, "Mr. Stark, it was kinda awesome, actually."

Tony smirked, ruffling Peter's hair as he passed him. "Kid were gonna have to work on your definitions of 'awesome' and 'legally questionable.'"

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A couple of hours later and a few drinks in, everyone seemed to have found their entertainment for the day. Tony was telling off Natasha and Wanda after Peter let it slip that they were the ones who slipped him a bottle at the party. Natasha is defending herself, saying something along the lines of helping him build character. Scott, Bruce, and Sam were in the kitchen trying to perfect a mystery drink so they could have everyone try it at dinner.

Down at the beach, Pepper and Maria were having some drinks, while Steve and Bucky were running along the shore because they just couldn't afford to miss a couple days without exercising. They had been trying to dig the biggest hole possible in the sand with Tony before he decided to give a lecture to Natasha and Wanda. You stayed by the pool, rubbing some aloe vera on Peter. The poor kid would not stop complaining about how much it stinged, but it was necessary, if you didn’t want him walking around with his skin peeling off in chunks. Thor, who was next to you sunbathing, opened his eyes and took a bit of pity in Peter as well.

“You are now a man, young Parker. Stop wallowing and be proud!” He started, trying to distract Peter from the burning sensation. “Ah, I still remember my first drunken endeavour. I was at the blushing age of 14, and I couldn’t get out of bed for a week! Of course my brother Loki took every chance he could to try and stab me. Oh, how I miss those days…” He trailed off looking into the horizon.

“What?!” Peter tried turning around to see if Thor was joking or not. You turned him back around, still applying the refreshing aloe.

“Ignore him, Pete, he’s joking.” You reassure him, looking back at Thor, and give him a look as if to tell him not helping. “Oh! How did your test go?” You say in hopes of distracting him, now from Thor’s horrifying childhood stories.

“Oh please don’t remind me, I’m so sure I failed” He kept beating himself up and you weren’t really sure how to help him. Thankfully he broke the silence again, “Hey Y/n, are you feeling okay? Y’know with the whole Mark situation.” He slightly turned so he could look at you, genuinely concerned since he saw you as an older sister.

“I’m alright, Pete. I promise.” You assure him, not wanting to worry any longer or keep being reminded of the events that took over last night and at breakfast earlier. You could tell he didn’t want to drop it so you started talking again, “I just wish he didn’t have to be such an asshole, y’know? If he hated me that much, he could’ve dumped me before I even brought him here. But let’s not talk about him anymore. I just want to enjoy our time here.”

With that, Peter seemed satisfied and stood up, making his way to the buggies, promising he’d come back every two hours so you could reapply his sunscreen. He had planned to build a sandcastle with Tony, who was still disappointed in him for getting so drunk, threatening to tell his Aunt May.

You leaned back, watching Peter jog off into the distance, still moving a bit clumsily from his sunburns. You hoped Tony would go easy on him, but knowing him, that's a long shot. As you began to close your eyes to enjoy the sun, you heard Thor sigh dramatically next to you. You opened one eye and turned to meet his gaze, which was already set on you.

“So, what is this thing you and Sergeant Barnes have going on?” He asks with a shameless grin, he's such a gossip.

“Sorry?” You asked him, clearly caught off guard by this question. You'd definitely expect this kind of question from Tony or Nat, but surely not from Thor.

“Come on now, lady y/n. Even my brother, far away in some strange realm, planning some poor souls demise, can feel the tension between you two” He finishes with a booming belly laugh, he really enjoys hearing himself speak, doesn't he?

“God. Well, I don't know if there's any tension there, Thor.” You wander off, chewing on your lip for a second, just to continue your rambling, “I mean… Do you think there's tension there? I really need a second opinion here, Thor.” You're very much aware of what happened yesterday after the party, but something deep in your mind tells you Bucky was acting that way because of all the alcohol in his system. You really don't know what to think or what to assume. Was there really tension? Could this be something more than a one-night stand?

“Well, yes! I thought it was obvious to all, is it not?” he declared with a booming voice. “I could strike the tension with Mjolnir itself! I'm pretty sure even young Peter sensed it, and he's still just a hatchling.”

You groaned again, covering your face with your hands for a moment. “God. I’m doomed.”

Thor just laughed—a big, hearty, Thor laugh—and clapped you on the shoulder so hard your entire chair wobbled.

“Nonsense, Ms y/n! It's a tale as old as time: Man gazes upon woman. A woman gazes upon a man. A fable so foolish, only the fires of fornication could set it in motion!” He basically screams in your face as he keeps his hand on your shoulder, massaging it a bit.

You can't help but laugh with him at his wording of thoughts. “Alright, Thor, that's enough out of you.” I chuckle at him, sending him a friendly smile to let him know it's all in good fun.

You peeked at Bucky out of the corner of your eye — now grabbing a towel and running a hand through his damp hair — and you felt your stomach twist again in a way that was getting far too familiar.

Maybe, Thor wasn’t completely wrong.

Maybe.

“Subtlety is an art form, dear.” Thor side eyes you and smirks just before closing his eyes and lifting his face. “In Asgard, we call that sort of staring a battle challenge… do you plan on dueling him or bedding him?”

You chose to ignore his last question and close your eyes, trying to clear your mind. You lay there for God knows how long, probably falling asleep because next thing you know, your eyes are blinking open as you notice the loud music coming from somewhere and the lack of the previously unforgiving sun.

Finally locating where the disturbance emerged from, you look over to see Natasha, Steve, Wanda, and Bucky all making their way towards the pool while Sam was connecting to one of the huge speakers in the pool area.

Thor is nowhere to be seen, and you’re still becoming aware of your surroundings while Wanda is pulling you from the lounging chair and telling you to join them in the water. You notice Bucky and Steve were already inside, in the far end, looking towards the beach and sharing a drink.

You and Wanda get in, thankful that it wasn’t cold as you had expected it to be, soon getting splashed by Sam and Natasha who thought it would be a great idea to cannonball right in the middle of the pool.

As you both flinched trying to not get water in your eyes, the sudden commotion made the two supersoldiers turn around to see who was the culprit. As they did, Bucky’s eyes landed on you and he immediately, but slowly, started making his way over to you.

“Hey”, you tell him, realizing how you’ve barely seen each other all day, apart from breakfast.

“Hello Doll, finally stopped ignoring me? And here I thought you cared for me. I’m hurt, truly” He joked as soon as he reached you, putting a hand over his heart to show you how seriously devastated he was.

“Oh please, I was not ignoring you,” you wanted to add more in hopes of defending yourself, until you felt his hand snaking to your waist and settling there. Your thoughts died in your throat before you could even finish the sentence, so you opted to squint at him, trying to decipher what he was planning for tonight. If you knew him well enough, which you did, you could see the gears turning in his head, figuring out new ways to get under your skin.

He noticed the way your breath hitched — just barely, but enough for him to catch it — and his lips quirked into a cocky little smirk.

“What’s wrong, angel?” he teased, voice low enough that only you could hear. His hand gave a slow, deliberate squeeze at your waist, sending a shiver up your spine despite the warm water. “Cool breeze got you shivering already, or is it just me?” It’s comments like that — said so casually, so effortlessly — that remind you just how far gone he really is. And, honestly, how ridiculous he can really be.

“You can be really insufferable, you know that? It's a genuine talent you have” you mutter to him as you splash water on his chest. It didn't faze him – in fact, it only made him grin wider. Obviously, you weren't aware of the expression on your face when he smiled back at you because he went on to say, “You keep starin’ at me like that and I might get the wrong idea, Doll.”

Whether it was the consistent teasing, your conversation with Thor or the alcohol flowing in your blood stream, you decided to play along and see how much you could push him. You wanted to see the same feelings and reactions he was provoking in you, etched onto his own face. Give him a taste of his own medicine and reach his tipping point.

You got even closer, flashing a coy smile, voice just above a whisper “Why are you holding back? If you want me so badly then what’s stopping you from taking me right here, right now? Hm?” You watch as his smirk slightly falters and grin a bit wider knowing you got him right where you wanted him. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? The big, scary Winter Soldier can’t handle a simple question. Interesting.”

His answer wasn’t immediate, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as his eyes grew darker. “Careful what you wish for, Doll. Girls who play with fire get their little fingers burnt.” His voice had never been as slow and steady before, perhaps he was trying to keep his composure in front of his friends who kept belting out 80’s heart break lyrics.

The closeness of your body, the heat brewing between both of you was making him dizzy, just as much as you. Though neither of you wanted to acknowledge it, silently understanding this cat and mouse game, waiting for the other to break; trying as hard as it was not to be the first one. Pushing each other to the limit was not unknown between you, always training together and challenging the other was old news. But this was different; a personal milestone you both set for yourselves, seeing the other slowly give in seemed to be as sweet a victory as finding the Holy Grail itself.

“Good thing I’m not a little girl then.” and just as fast as it started, the trance you both found yourselves in was broken.

“Okay, that's enough. Towels. Clothes. Dignity. In that order.” The authoritative voice of the play boy himself caught everyone’s attention, reminding you that you were not alone in the pool, although no one else seemed to notice your interaction with Bucky; and if they did they made no mention of it thankfully.

You suddenly remembered you had a barbecue planned for tonight, Tony had invited a guest chef who was known worldwide but you couldn’t remember his name even if you tried. You felt a sudden cold where Bucky’s hand had left your side when you were rudely interrupted. You looked at each other and, without another word, exited the pool along with everyone else, who seemed drunker than they were five minutes ago. You made a mental note to continue the mind games between you and Bucky at dinner, or whenever the opportunity presented itself.

You enter your room and quickly get dressed, checking yourself in the mirror before heading out the door. You wonder who was already at the table, given half the group was drunk in the pool with you mere minutes ago. As you get there, you’re surprised to see most of them there, pretty sure they hadn’t washed the salt and chlorine out of their heads, all of you dangerously aware that if you were late, Tony would have your heads for embarrassing him in front of the prestigious chef.

Bucky’s eyes find you in an instant, silently demanding you to sit across from him, given both seats next to him were taken by Bruce and Scott; who, according to them, had perfected their mystery cocktail and still refused to tell anyone what it contained. In the middle of the table sat two glass jugs with a glowing orange liquid, which they brought to have everyone else taste and give their opinions on.

Sam saw you walking towards the seat next to him and got up to pull out your chair. You thanked him as you sat down and he pushed the chair in behind you. You noticed instantly the grin on his face, a perfect match to Bruce and Scott, wondering what they were planning, other than possibly poisoning all of you with their strange concoction. That’s when he joins the conversation he was previously in with the three men sitting in front of you. Steve, who was at the head of the table, briefly got up after complimenting your dress, going over to Tony and the chef to see what was being prepared.

You felt Bucky’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, as you got a hold of the conversation between them. While he hasn’t said anything since you got to the table, you discover the plan the three wannabe-bartenders had in mind.

“C’mon man, y’know if you try it everyone else will! I swear. It’s our best creation yet.” Sam kept insisting, but nothing could convince the man who had a different agenda in mind.

“Yeah, and the only one you’ve ever made.” You felt the need to help the poor man, struggling to hold out on his own with the drunk men surrounding him. He looked at you in a thankful manner, but was still aggravated by the request of the men.

Scott piped up from beside Bucky, already drunk, almost pouncing over him, “Exactly! If you drink it first, everyone else will follow. We need a brave leader. Like Moses. But drunk, man.”

Bucky eyed the glass and he swore he could've seen the damn thing bubbling. He held it to the light, trying to figure out what was it these three were mixed in the drink. “Right… What is this radioactive Caprisun supposed to have? I swear to god it was just orange a minute ago…”

Scott pauses for a second. He really doesn't remember. Bruce was probably the right person to ask, considering he wasn't tipsy all the way through the drink's making. Obviously, Scott insisted on trying every single ingredient to give it the 'Certified not-poison by yours truly!' He groggily turns to Bucky and says, “Uh… love?”

Scott seemed too drunk to even try anymore, so Bruce chimed in, “Bucky, do you really not trust me? A professional scientist?”

Your smile suddenly faded as you remembered you wanted to get under his skin; see how far he got before giving in. You decided to back the men up, completely blindsiding the helpless man. “Yeah tough guy, give it a shot.” And just to make it more difficult for him, you had removed one shoe under the table and trailed it up his leg; smirking as you saw him, and felt him, stiffen at your touch.

His eyes hardened and he sat up, grabbing a glass. “Is that a dare, Doll?” He didn’t wait for you to answer as he poured himself some of that worryingly colorful beverage. He didn’t break eye contact once as he downed it in one go, your ears filled with cheers from the victorious men who got up to tell everyone that the Winter Soldier himself had tried their drink, finally convincing them to try for themselves.

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Dinner was pretty much uneventful, with everyone trying the guy’s drink, and agreeing that it was actually pretty good, yet they still refused to tell anyone what it contained. You would now definitely consider the drink endorsed by 3 out of 4 semi-sober Avengers. You felt the buzz before you even finished your first glass, and the food was incredible. Bucky made it his personal mission to distract you from your conversations, as your game of footsie went on the entirety of the dinner.

You didn’t speak much to each other, but enough was being said with the glances you shared more than enough times. You couldnt help but notice how low-lidded and dark his eyes had become since his first drink. So when you found yourself in the pool once again with Natasha, Maria and Wanda, it was no wonder that Bucky followed you; opting to stay outside by the edge so he could still talk to you and rile you up even more, without having touched you yet.

You weren't sure which one of the girls' ideas was to jump in the pool fully clothed but you couldn’t seem to mind as you let the alcohol take over long ago, enjoying the way your dress flowed in the water with your movements. Steve was desperately telling Natasha to get out before you all caught a cold, lending her a hand. It turned out to be a terrible mistake, as she pulled him in in an instant, followed by Peter and Thor who raced to jump in the pool.

You took advantage of the commotion, and Tony’s awful singing next to the speakers, to get closer to the edge and talk to Bucky who still hadn’t taken his eyes away from you.

“No way, Doll. Don’t even think about getting me wet.” He acted like he was pulling away, although you know that’s the last thing on his mind right now.

Your smile only grew wider as you finally reached him.“See, now you’re paranoid. I wouldn’t ever think about doing such a thing. I’m just disappointed you're gonna leave me here all by myself.” You teased, batting your eyelashes before looking over at the God who was currently in a water fight with the spiderboy.

Bucky rested his forearms on his knees, looking down at you with that infuriatingly smug little smirk. “You? Disappointed? In me?” he mocked, pretending to be hurt. “Now that’s just cruel.”

You swam a bit closer, hands trailing along the edge of the pool, resting your chin on your arms so you could look up at him properly. “Cruel would be throwing you in this pool in front of all your friends. But don’t worry,” you tilted your head, tone syrupy sweet, “I’d never do that.”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” he said dryly, watching you like he already knew what you were about to do. “I mean, for the record... I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Loose. Happy. A little drunk. Wet.” His lips curved into that crooked smirk again, eyes gleaming.

You flashed him one last passive aggressive smile before kicking up with both legs and splashing a wave of water straight at him.

It soaked the front of his shirt and a good part of his pants. He blinked once, slow and unimpressed, as the girls behind you broke into laughter.

“Oops,” you said, doing your best to feign surprise.

Bucky stood, wiping water from his chest, shirt clinging to his abs in a way that made it very clear he hadn’t skipped any workouts. “You wanna play dirty?” he said, voice low, eyes darkening in that way that made you grow hotter.

Before you could react, he tossed his shirt aside and crouched down, grabbing you by the wrist. You squealed, trying to swim back, but it was useless. With a sudden yank, he pulled you half out of the water — and then jumped in after you, crashing the both of you beneath the surface.

When you surfaced, gasping and laughing, you found Bucky already brushing hair from your face, his hand lingering just a second too long on your cheek. His grin was wide and playful, but his eyes searched yours like he was trying to find something underneath it all.

“You happy now? Was that what you wanted? To see me with my shirt off? You could’ve just asked, Darling.” He smirks and slightly tilts his head to the side, resting his hands on the curve of your hips.

“How presumptuous of you. That abs-to-arrogance ratio is really something, huh?” You bite back with a proud expression on your face. To be real, you were really proud of that one. Somewhere, in the midst of looking into his eyes, you heard Thor’s roaring laugh from behind you get closer. As you turn around, you see the mighty God of Thunder make his way to you with a drink in hand, slowly but surely. Before you can go after Thor and eagerly greet him, Bucky's hands move swiftly to pull you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist in a firm grip. It's as if he's making sure you couldn't escape, like he's marking his territory. The move is intentional — calculated, even. He doesn't just hold you, he controls where you go. You feel your heart race as his chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body radiating through you, even through the cold water.

And just before Thor is close enough to hear you, Bucky pulls you in even closer and whispers "You're not getting away so easily this time," he says, voice low and hot against your neck. "You like to run, huh? I don't think so, Doll." His grip tightens slightly, and your breath hitches at the sudden intensity.

“Ah, I see the tension here!" Thor laughs, slapping Bucky's shoulder quickly as if the two of them were in some kind of camaraderie, which only makes the situation weirder. "But you know, the one thing you both should know is the real tension I’ve faced in my life…” He pauses dramatically, catching everyone's attention like he’s about to reveal some hidden truth.

Before Bucky, behind you, could protest “Thor-,” he launches into a full tale.

“Let me tell you of the time I fought the mighty Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent. This was no ordinary beast! Oh no, this creature was massive, huge, like a mountain with fangs! I had to climb its back as it thrashed through the ocean waves.” He gestures wildly, inadvertently bumping into Bucky, who looks less than impressed. Thor doesn’t notice, of course, continuing his story with all the flair of a man who’s had too much mead.

People start gathering around the group to listen, in the light of this being one of the first genuinely interesting tales Thor’s told in a while, and soon, he has a crowd. Even Tony, who was immersed in his 80’s hits karaoke, had stopped singing and brought a stool to the edge of the pool to listen to the story.

Bucky on the other hand, probably as an excuse to get comfortable, took a few steps back to settle in one of the inner corners of the pool, nestling there with you still in his arms. You could feel him shuffling behind you, now feeling closer than ever. For a moment, only your back was pressed to his chest, but after a second, when he noticed this, he grabbed you by your hipbones and forced you onto his lap.

He didn’t ask, didn’t give you a chance to wriggle away — just guided you down with firm hands until you were perched right where he wanted you, legs between his, your back against his broad chest, and his arms loosely draped around your waist like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Much better,” Bucky murmured in your ear, voice dripping with satisfaction as he shifted slightly beneath you, settling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting distracted, not when I’m trying so hard to keep you entertained.” You just looked back at him over his shoulder, wanting to bite back, but you just side-eyed him while shaking your head. There is no way in hell hes so cocky.

“You always get this quiet when you’re sitting on a lap, or is it just when you’re enjoying yourself?” Bucky was now making himself comfortable, resting his head against your shoulder.“I mean, if I knew this is what it took to get you to settle down and listen to a story, I would’ve offered my lap way sooner,” he added, smugness practically radiating off him.

You roll your eyes and sush him “Can you please? Im listening to a story here. Ever heard of common decency?”

“Go on, keep pretending you’re here for Thor’s epic saga,” he murmured. “But I’ve got a better story for you, sweetheart. One with a little less lightning and a lot more tension.”

He taps you dangerously low on your abdomen, his voice smooth, “And I’m a real fan of happy endings.”

You can’t even hide your grin anymore. Thor, completely oblivious to any awkwardness, is now fully engrossed in his own story, surrounded by a group that’s all-too-happy to let him entertain them.

“...and there I was, in the finest gown of Asgard, about to deliver the most epic punch to the giant you’ve ever seen. No one else would dare…” he trails off, completely unaware that Bucky had started palpably growing harder.

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It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when the last ripple in the pool finally began to settle, and the chaos of the night simmered down to something quieter, lazier. The music had been reduced to a mellow background hum, the once-bright string lights above now flickering faintly like they were tired too.

Tony had one arm around Peter, half-dragging, half-carrying him out of the water while muttering something about child labor laws and the next Avengers meeting being a pool-free event. Peter, clearly past the point of resistance, had his goggles askew on his forehead and was mumbling about how he definitely didn’t lose the underwater breath-holding contest to Thor.

Speaking of whom, the thunder god stumbled out of the pool, soaked and happy, with one arm slung over Vision’s shoulder and the other over Wanda’s, telling them he was fine and that he always walks sideways when he’s “this full of honor and mead.” Thor continued to walk lopsided, telling both of them how much he loves them, kissing Vision on the head. “Did you feel that? I'm well aware you're an android, but did you feel that?” Wanda looked ready to drop them both.

Sam, Bruce, and Scott had long disappeared. You suspected their mission to test the second batch of “extraterrestrial” cocktails had either knocked them out cold or led them to explore the stars themselves. Probably unconscious behind a bush somewhere, earning tomorrow’s hangover with scientific dedication. The mere thought of this made you shake your head. Those three were going to be the next ‘Parker catch-22 situation.’

Somewhere in the chaos, Steve and Natasha had vanished. Not an emergency-vanish, but a very telling, low-key one. Natasha had turned to you with her usual amused smirk just before she left and called, “You two planning to stay outside? You wanna catch a cold or something?” The wink she gave you at the end made it hard to tell if she meant a literal cold or something more... suspicious. Steve jumped at Nat's words as if he meant to say something similar but forgot amidst all the chaos. "Yeah, guys, please clean up and get ready for bed. And you two, come inside, it's getting cold. Don't want you sick on the boat tomorrow. No one here is willing to babysit." He punctuates the whole thing with a few claps to get everyone's attention, as if we were cadets.

Right, the boat. You had forgotten all about that. Tony dropped the bomb that he was taking the yacht out tomorrow, between rounds two or three of Scott's mystery drink. Of course, he was. Because why wouldn’t there be a yacht involved? Steve trailed behind Natasha not long after, visibly flustered when she whispered something in his ear. Were they flirting?

"Alright, yeah, old man," Bucky mutters from behind you in the water like they both aren't well over a hundred years old, rolling his eyes playfully at Steve's comment.

You sighed and finally peeled yourself away from the water, the soaked dress clinging to your skin with every step you took toward the towel rack. The hem of it slapped against your ankles with a sad little shhhk shhhk noise. It seemed a good idea at the time — jumping in fully clothed — and in your defense, it still kind of was. Until now.

Behind you, Bucky climbed out too, dripping from head to toe, his chest slick and shining under the soft garden lights. His pants were sticking to him in a way that made you momentarily forget how to walk in a straight line. He ran a hand through his hair, flipping the water from it in an almost rude display of hotness, and shot you a tired, lopsided grin.

“Not going inside like this,” you said, looking back at him, expecting an answer.

“Yeah, I’m not in the mood to hear Steve get into the ‘how pneumonia starts’ lecture,” Bucky replied, snatching a towel with one hand. With his metal arm, he started fidgeting with the pants belt buckle, trying to take it off. When he succeeded, he slung the towel over his shoulder to easily take his pants off, which were, from what you could tell, irksomely stuck to his skin by the moisture. Who would have thought Srg. James Buchanan Barnes wore boxer briefs? Huffing loudly, he swung the pants over the back of a lounge chair and wrapped the towel over his waist. The towel hugged his hips in a way that made it very hard not to look — especially when he looked so smug about you trying not to look.

“Not to sound like Steve or anything — and I swear this isn’t just an excuse to get you naked — but you really should ditch the wet clothes. That actually is how pneumonia starts”

You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you folded your soaked dress over the back of a chair. “Wow. That’s the line we’re going with, huh? ‘Medical precaution’? What’s next, Bucky? You gonna tell me your towel and ducky boxer briefs keep slipping because of gravity?”

His lips quirked up instantly with a scoff like he cant believe youre making fun of him for that, the cocky glint in his eyes sharpening as he turned toward you with that maddening, slow smile. “Hey, I’ll have you know these duckies are very aerodynamic,” he points both of his index fingers in the shape of finger guns to his crotch, still completely gobsmacked you would say that. “Also, if you excuse me, your highness," he starts, with a distinguishable glint of sarcasm to his words, "Gravity is a very real thing. You’re gonna fight science now?” He scoffs at you, turning his back to you to hang his jeans properly off the chair.

"Whatever…” you muttered with a sigh, grabbing your towel and tossing it onto one of the nearby chairs. With as much discretion as you could manage, you began shimmying out of your soaked dress—assuming Bucky had the decency to keep his back turned.

He did not.

Unbeknownst to you, the moment you turned around and started slipping out of your clothes, he glanced over his shoulder—completely shameless, pants still half-folded in the air. His eyes lingered, taking you in with a familiarity that made his chest ache. He’d seen you like this before—of course he had. He remembered every second of that night, every curve and breath and sound burned into his memory. How could he possibly forget?

But this—this felt different. There was something about seeing you again like this, in the quiet aftermath of laughter and water and heat, that made it all feel undeniably real. Not a memory. Not a fantasy. Just you. Something he was not used to. As he snapped out of his trail of thought, he gave you a once-over, admiring the shape of your every curve. Tilting his head so very slightly at the sight of your ass, the shape of your thighs and the smooth arch of your waist. He couldn't help but think how awfully hard your little hops were making the whole situation.

And with all the pride of a man caught in the act of watching a woman secretly undress, he really hoped you'd stop—because, well, the situation wasn’t the only thing getting harder.

And still, he said nothing. The weight of his silence pressed against the space between you, daring you to acknowledge the heat of his gaze. Almost like he was testing how long you could pretend you didn’t notice. You finally slipped off your dress and grabbed your towel from the chair, wrapping it around your body and securing it with a twist. He almost kissed his teeth with disappointment at watching you covered up again.

Once the dress was off, you folded it over your arm and tightened the towel around yourself.

“There,” you said with a shrug, voice dry. “Happy now? I’ve officially joined the nudist squad.”

Bucky didn’t answer right away, just ran his tongue over his bottom lip slowly, eyes dragging over you with no shame at all. Then he smirked.

“Oh, very,” he drawled, leaning back against the lounger with his arms folded, the towel dipping just a bit lower on his hips than necessary. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty about staring.”

"Oh, please! Right, like you were guilty before. Don't act so innocent." You snort and turn around, gesturing for him to follow you.

The soft feel of grass under bare feet was oddly soothing as you and Bucky made your way down the narrow garden path, towels wrapped around your still-damp bodies. The compound behind you was finally quiet. You could hear the faint hum of music Tony had forgotten to turn off.

Ahead, a wooden gazebo lounged at the edge of the garden, half-shadowed by trees and glowing softly under warm hanging lights. You made a small noise of approval when you saw it—cozy, empty, and, most importantly, far from everyone else.

“This looks nice,” you murmured, glancing sideways at Bucky.

He grunted in agreement, adjusting the towel around his waist with one hand. “Bet Tony spent ten grand just on those fairy lights.”

You snorted. “They’re probably from Wakanda. Imported and blessed by some high priestess or something.”

He chuckled, and the sound came easy. The kind of laugh that only seemed to escape him when it was just the two of you. He only ever snorted like that when he was around you, a sound so innocent, so free of burden that it made your heart churn.

You climbed the short steps and plopped onto one of the cushioned loungers, the towel around you slipping slightly, revealing the bare line of your shoulder. Bucky followed and took the spot beside you, leaving only a breath of space between your legs, but you were way past all of that already, so you let your thigh rest on top of his. His torso still gleamed faintly from the water, arms draped across the back of the chair like he had no idea what that did to your ability to speak in full sentences.

“Y’know,” you said after a beat, tilting your head back to look up at the strings of light above you, “this whole night- well, these two days to be fair, have been weird. Good-weird. Like… weird in the way I kinda needed?”

Bucky looked at you out of the corner of his eye, nodding softly. “Yeah. I get that.”

You let the silence stretch comfortably for a moment, watching a few bugs flicker around one of the lights before continuing. “It’s been chaos lately. Nonstop missions, briefings, all that. So, just being here… with everyone being human for a change, it’s nice.”

He nodded, like it finally dawned on him, “We don’t get many nights like this. Where it feels like we’re not soldiers or Avengers—just people.”

You hummed in agreement, then gave him a sidelong glance. “Especially you. You’ve been…” You trailed off, searching for the word.

“Less broody?” he offered, smirking.

“I was gonna say ‘actually fun,’ but sure, that works too,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

He chuckled again, the sound a little rougher this time. “Yeah, well.. You make it easier.” giving you an awkward, tight-lipped smile.

That made your stomach flip slightly—not just because of the compliment, but the way he said it. Quiet. Honest. You studied him for a second, the way the line of his jaw twitched under your gaze, the way the towel dipped slightly at his hip from where he leaned forward. Your fingers toyed with a loose thread on your towel before you cleared your throat.

“So… there’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

He raised a brow, head turning slightly toward you, almost sure he knew what you were about to say. “Yeah?” he said a bit hesitantly.

“That night,” you said, finally. “The… first one." You chuckle, noticing how strange that sounds. "The one-night stand that wasn’t really just a night.”

Bucky didn’t tense. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he sat a little straighter, like he’d been expecting it—maybe even waiting for it.

“What about it?”

You shrugged, looking ahead. “I guess I never asked how it felt for you. I mean… it wasn’t just sex. At least, it didn’t feel like that to me. But then we both just… pretended it didn’t happen. Which, looking back at it now, was probably the worst decision we ever made.” You sigh and your eyes flick over to his confused expression "Oh no, I meant the whole 'ignoring it ever happened' thing!"

"Oh, right," he nods with a forced smile. He was quiet for a beat. Then, “It didn’t feel like just sex to me either.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. He looked calm, but there was something in his eyes—something that made your chest ache.

“I didn’t know what to do after,” he admitted. “I woke up and thought, ‘Well, shit. This is gonna mess me up.’ Not because it was bad. But because it felt real. And real is... hard for me.”

You swallowed. “Yeah. Same.”

“I tried to act like it didn’t mean something. Thought maybe you’d be better off if I stayed distant. Didn’t want to screw it up by wanting more.” Bucky pressed his palm against his beard as if he were combing it, looking very pensive. "The worst part of all of it was having to see you over and over at the compound, day in and day out. I remember having talked about it to Sam and Steve, but they weren't much help. I remember them saying something about whatever is meant to be will be." You thought about the last sentence, noticing how Sam and Steve weren't technically wrong. And it looks like he had the same exact thought because suddenly he paused the hand motion on his beard.

You gave him a small, sad smile.

He nodded slowly. “And honestly? I’m tired of pretending I don’t want more. Tired of pretending that night didn’t change things.”

You leaned back again, heart hammering against your ribs—not from nerves, but from relief. Because finally, finally, you both weren’t dancing around it anymore.

You didn’t answer right away.

Mostly because your brain had short-circuited.

“Now I’m stuck. And I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

Those words echoed in your head, bounced off the soft wood of the gazebo. You could feel the warmth of him beside you — the steadiness of his breathing, the calm strength radiating off of him like a space heater.

You swallowed, eyes flicking away briefly before glancing back at him with a half-smirk. “Okay,” you whispered, more to test the word on your tongue than anything else. “That was good. I’ll give you that. Kind of hard to top ‘I’m stuck and I don’t wanna go anywhere.’”

Bucky’s lips tugged into a grin. “Damn. Should’ve saved it for a more dramatic moment. Like mid-battle. Or during a heist.”

“Or on a rooftop in the rain,” you offered.

He laughed again — that rare, low, real laugh that always made your chest tighten just a little. “I’ll keep it in my pocket for the next dramatic rooftop situation.”

You hummed, leaning back on your elbows and staring at the sky. The stars above were faint with the glow of the compound lights, but still there — quiet, unmoving.

It wasn’t loud between you.

Just… comfortable.

Safe.

You could hear the gears in Buckys head turning and shifting, you could tell he wanted to say something by the way his eyes flickered all over the garden. “You know…” Bucky broke the silence, his voice low, “I’ve been trying not to bring it up, that night. Figured I’d just mess things up if I did.”

You turned to glance at him, head tilted, “Why? Because of the whole ‘teammates with benefits’ taboo?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “More like… I didn’t want you to think it was just about the sex." He paused as if gaining the confidence to say this next thing. "But... you remember how I touched you that night, right?” Bucky’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. He had turned to look at you, you could tell out of the corner of your eye.

You froze, suddenly aware of how close he was, of how the way the space between you felt so much tighter than it did minutes ago. You swallowed, your voice coming out a little shaky "You've really got to ask?” you chuckle trying to relieve some of the tension.

Bucky chuckled softly, snaking a hand up your thigh, just high enough to curl a finger on the bottom of the towel. “I don't know, Doll. I think about it a lot, actually. How responsive you were to my touch, how soft you felt under my hands.” As he spoke, his gaze flicked between his hand fidgeting with the towel and your eyes. That damn smirk, he really knew how to get under your skin.

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice a little quieter. “I remember.”

He shuffled closer to you, and you could feel his breath against your neck, hot and shaky. “Yeah?” You felt his hand move to the back of your neck, steady, turning your head to make you look at him. “Tell me about it, Doll.”

Your brain turned to mush, thoughts scrambled and unable to form a coherent answer for him. You knew exactly what he wanted to hear, though, the memories of that night plagued your dreams every other night, making it impossible to forget how he sounded moaning your name, and the way the lightest of his touch made you come undone in ways you hadn’t experienced before or after him.

“I mean it's hard to forget, Barnes. Cumming 6 times in one night is kinda hard to compete with.” You answer truthfully, still relying on the drinks from earlier to loosen your tongue, although the effect had almost run its course.

Bucky looked at you in disbelief, either because of how crude you may have sounded or the confession that no one had ever been as good as him. “So you’re telling me that excuse of a man never left you craving more?” You couldn’t wipe the grin away from his face if you tried. “Geez, Doll, I mean I do feel bad for you. That’s probably the worst thing you’ve told me about him.” You couldn’t help but join him, laughing lightly at how bad it actually was.

“Well, he had enough trouble with making me come even once, if I didn’t fall asleep in the process; so asking him for more was the same as asking him to challenge Thor to a duel with nothing but a stick.” You felt at ease, so admitting this didn’t make you feel as miserable as it should’ve.

As the two of you laughed at your own banter, reveling in the ease of the moment, your eyes—traitorous as ever—flicked down to his lap. You’d really been trying not to look. Honestly. But the second he started talking like that, he made it ten times harder to keep your gaze in check.

The towel slung low over his hips wasn’t helping either. It clung to him in all the wrong ways—or right ways, depending on your self-control—and sat dangerously low on his pelvis, practically inviting your eyes to explore further. Even in the low light of the night, you could make out the sharp V of his hips, carved into his skin like some unfairly sculpted masterpiece.

And in the quiet stillness of it all, with him leaned back against the lounger, arms lazily draped along the top like he owned the whole damn night, looking at you through his lashes as if expecting your next move—his chest rising and falling in just a bit too much of a rhythm to pass for calm.

When you kept scanning him, you caught it—the unmistakable bulge under the towel, the fabric doing absolutely nothing to cover it. You didn't mean to look that long, but… Has he always been that big? Although when you think about it, it makes sense. You could see the bulge resting to the left of his thigh, following the very base of his V line. Thick and daunting. And just as if to make it all the harder for you, resting under the two layers of fabric, you saw his cock twitch. It wasn't subtle or indistinct; it jerked completely unembarrassed and shameless. Obviously done on purpose after noticing you staring.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer, Doll." He chuckles, tilting his head forward." You barely had time to recover before he leaned in a little closer, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Unless... you want me to take the towel off,” he added, voice dropping an octave, slow and deliberate. “In that case, you won’t need a picture at all.”

You wanted to come up with something witty and funny, but all that came out of you was a meek nod. He was so dangerous.

"Yeah? And here I thought you were holding it together so well. Took one question and all that snark flew right out the window, huh?” He tilted his head with mock sympathy just after caressing your chin in an act of compassion.

Rolling your eyes at him, you stand up, containing a laugh, "You know I can just stand up and go back to bed, right?" but before you can even stabilize yourself on the ground, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you to sit so impossibly close to him.

"No, come on! Why would you do that when we were just starting to have fun, baby?" He says, a breath away from your face, scanning it and flicking his eyes all over your features, "Come here, Doll. I'll even let you do the honors, how about that? Does that sound okay?" He takes your hand —the same exact one he had pulled you down by earlier— and places it ever so lightly on his uncovered thigh, just below the edge of the towel. As if guiding you, he makes you caress the inside of his thighs while looking into your eyes with some unreadable, unblushing expression. Still holding onto your hand, he starts leading it upwards, making you feel your way above into the fabric of the towel, stopping just at the very beginning of his anterior thigh.

"Do you still need guidance for this?" he begins and chuckles. "Should I keep holding your hand all the way through it?" he says with a condescending tone, tilting his head with a little pout.

“You— God, no. Bucky, I don’t need your assistance. Calm down before I get up and leave before we even start.” Almost as if he had taken that seriously, he jumped a bit and looked at you from the corner of his eye, as if shooting a threat. “But don't worry, I won't do that to you. I'm not that evil.” Relishing your newfound confidence, you decide to take his advice and 'do the honors' as he said.

You change position right beside him in the lounge chair, your knees meeting the cushion under you. You look at him with hooded eyes, and he takes his hand off of yours, now pressing both of his hands to his sides. You reach the twist on the towel on the very far end of his hip and untie it, slowly but surely, making sure to let yourself enjoy the moment. You unfold the fabric once and then twice, being met once again with Buckys ducky boxers. You snort, shaking your head.

“Still can’t believe you own those,” you mutter, amused and almost fond.

Bucky catches your reaction and smirks, clearly amused by your disbelief. “What? You don’t like my fashion sense, Doll?” he teases, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know these are a limited edition. Real collector’s item.”

You ignore his comment, already feeling a coil in your stomach. There it was, still hidden by the fabric of his boxers, but there nonetheless. Even immersed in the darkness of the garden, you could see the dark spot, already wet from precum, just over his cock's head. The thought of him being needy enough to leave such a spot on his boxers without even being touched sent electric shocks to your very core. He had to have been thinking outright disgusting things all throughout the conversation to have been this hard already. You snapped out of your thoughts and leaned in, pressing soft pecks all over the length of his concealed cock.

"Fuck-" He muttered from above you, starting to take shaky breaths, sounding more desperate every passing second. You could feel his cock twitching against your lips in response to your every move and kiss.

“Oh- you think you’re real slick, huh?” he murmurs, voice dropping. “Teasin’ me like that, then acting all innocent? Keep pokin' me, sweetheart — just remember, I bite back.” He says, eyebrows furrowed into high heaven.

"Sure..."

Kiss...

"I'd really like to see you try, old man."

Kiss...

"Alright, that's enough.” He says, voice worryingly stern, grabbing you by the hair at the back of your head, interrupting you mid-kiss. “Keep callin’ me that, doll. See where it gets you.” As he held your head still, forcing you to stay in place, he swiftly shoved his thumb under the hem of his boxers and pulled them down completely uninterrupted. Now inches away from your face was his cock, bouncing from the motion, tapping you for a brief second on the nose. It was some sort of shade of coral pink, completely flushed and desperate, a clear difference to the skin on the rest of his body. Your eyes snapped from his shit-eating grin to his tip, still indecently dripping precum.

“What’s the matter?” he teases, voice low and smug. The hand that was once holding his boxers down snakes its way to the base of his cock, guiding it to tap against your lips. "Stick it out," He adds, tone stern like an order. As you pull your tongue out, expectant, he begins drawing slow, unhurried circles against the flat of it, “Cat got your tongue? Or did I finally find the off switch?” You look deeply into his eyes for a second, feeling the almost imperceptible salty taste on your tongue.

You pull away for a second, “You didn’t shut me up — I was just being generous. Letting the elderly speak, and all that. Although if shutting me up is what you want, there are a few ways to achieve that." All the while you were speaking, you could see Bucky looking at you mindfully, albeit you were still somehow unsure if he was listening to a word you were saying. Somewhere mid-sentence, he started shamelessly stroking himself, spitting into his hand, and moaning into it as he did, mere inches away from your face. You were so close you could hear the squelch of his hand against his shaft, so close you could smell his musky scent.

"Is that- Is that so?" He asks, clearly struggling to keep composure as he keeps working himself. Up and down. Up and down. "Oh yes, Sergeant Barnes. There is one way," As you finish saying this, you replace his hand with yours, continuing his exact motions. You make sure to stroke him, keeping a specific pace. The second you placed your hands back on his cock you fet how utterly wet he had achieved to be after spitting on himself. Looking back again into his eyes, you start to give him small kitten licks, watching him react almost instantly with a whimper.

“C’mon… stop bein’ mean. I’ve been good. Haven’t I been good?” And just as if you were agreeing or taking pity on him, one of the two, you took him into your mouth, slowly inching him to the back of your throat. The second you did, he let out a groan, not just any groan, one brimming with pure want, absolutely primitive.

"Fuuck..." He rasped, letting his head fall back and rest on the cushions on the head of the backrest. That was the encouragement you needed. After hearing him, you began to work yourself upwards on his shaft, keeping his cock still engulfed on your mouth, making sure to shelter all of your front teeth with your lips —we don't want any accidents here...

You continued doing the same exact thing, working your mouth and lips up and down his cock, hearing him gasp and sucking in ragged breaths from above you. At some point, he held the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your hair, and forcing you to look up at him. He looked so genuinely fucked out, lips parted into the shape of an 'o', brows furred and pupils dilated. As he looked at you, you took your mouth off of him and spat all the pent-up spit right on his tip, letting it drip in all directions. As you did, he watched you attentively, somehow looking even more needy than before. Blinking back at him innocently, you start stroking him once again, this time faster, trying to keep up with the pace your mouth had before.

“This isn’t fair," He whines, letting out a high-pitched noise in his throat. "You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, baby. No one else has ever had me like this,” He whimpers at you, making his grip on your hair even tighter.

"Yeah? That's alright, cause either way I'm not willing to let anyone see you like this ever again." To make your point be heard, you sped up your pace, not stopping for a second to look at anything else but his eyes. He, on the other hand, was seemingly tearing up. You could see his glassy sky blue eyes shining under the garden fairy lights.

Then all of a sudden, Bucky's head jerked backwards, eyes wide open. "Can’t take much more of this, baby…" You knew exactly what he meant, but there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to hear him say it. So you stroke him even faster, knowing exactly what was gonna happen. "Much more of what, Buck?" You blink up at him, taking the opportunity to use your tongue and play with the slit of his tip.

"Doll- You know what I meant. I'm gonna-" He grabs onto the cushions next to him, throwing his head back forwards to face you, now with a completely different expression. His mouth had fallen even more agape and his eyes were screwed shut.

"Yeah? gonna what?" You tease back at him, taking him back into your mouth. Something which apparently turned out to be his last straw, cause his legs tensed up under your forearms and his hips began to jolt forward. "Fuck baby, gonna- Im gonna cum-" He made you take him all the way with the hand he was still holding your head with, pushing you all the way down and making your nose bump against his pubic bone. You felt his tip touch the very back of your throat as he kept jerking his hips forward. He kept you like this for what felt like ages. He manually made you suck him off, each time making you gag from the force he was applying on you. "Doing so good, Doll. Oh- Oh my god?" You gagged on him, involuntarily letting spit drip all over him. He loved seeing you like this, teary-eyed and red in the face. At this point he didn't need to throat fuck you, he just wanted to hear the little noises you made a little longer, and as cynic as this sounds, he wanted to hear you gag.

It wasn’t long before you tasted it, that salty and strong taste relentlessly hitting the back of your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow it. You gladly did, passing your tongue over his cock, not wanting to miss a drop. He was writhing away, the sensation too much at once yet you wouldn’t let go that easily.

He had to pull you back by your hair, not harsh but quickly enough that it almost gave you whiplash. “God, darlin’, you gonna suck me dry on the first night?” He managed to get out between pants, as his legs were still twitching unconsciously from the aftermath.

You only grinned in response, rising to his face and kissing him immediately, a primal hunger overcoming both of you once again. “Would that be so bad?” You giggle between kisses.

“You’re so mean, Doll,” He said softly as he pulled you into his lap, pressing you to him as much as physics allowed him to. “Gonna be the death of me.”

“Is that a complaint I hear, Sergeant?” Your words were muffled by his lips, still refusing to pull away just for a second. He didn’t answer, putting one arm around you, engulfing you completely while the other went under your thigh as he stood up.

That only lasted a couple seconds though, because soon enough he was laying you down on the other end of the lounge sofa, soft cushions supporting your upper half. “For you? Never,” He pulled away, hovering over you. “Just wanna make this last as long as possible.”

He positioned himself between your thighs, looking up at you with blown-out pupils, his left hand completely holding him up as his right hand traced the outline of your body. The kisses became hungry again, like the air out of each other's lungs was your only life source. The fire between you growing rapidly, wild and untamable.

His hand trailed down, leaving you hot and begging for more wherever he touched. He grabbed the back of your thigh, going up where skin meets fabric. He groaned, and you felt him getting hard again, clearly the work of his superserum. He moved his hand again, pressing down just above your clothed cunt. With a thumb, he began to tease you. He ran it all along your slit, stopping just a moment to draw achingly slow circles on your clit. The sudden pressure had you whimpering, begging him to stop teasing; yet he paid you no mind, moving as if he had all the time in the world to undo your towel and remove your panties.

He stopped and stared at you, taking you in, eyes glossy and wondering as if had seen the light at the end of the tunnel. He stayed there staring directly into your pussy for a second, you were sure you almost sawy his mouth watering. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” You teased him, knowingly smirking at the reactions you were pulling from him.

“No need,” He started as he leaned down and kissed your neck, getting closer to your ear. “I’ll have you like this every night for the rest of our lives.” The confession that he was planning to never let you go, and his hot breath combined with his open mouthed kisses at your neck had you moaning louder than intended.

“Is that a promise, Barnes?” You said breathless, all composure you thought you had left had been thrown out the window a long while ago.

“Get me a bible and I’ll swear on it, sweetheart.” He went back to kissing you, making his way down your chest as his fingers danced along your inner thigh, itching closer but still not close enough to where you needed him most.

“Fuck, Bucky, stop teasing,” You pleaded, getting annoyed by the growing anticipation.

“Patience, Doll, we have all night” He muttered, clearly forgetting that you, in fact did not, and that you had to be all packed and ready, cruising the ocean in about 5 hours. And before you could remind him yourself, ever so responsible, you felt his fingers slithering from your inner thigh, inevitably sliding along your slit, collecting all the wetness that had pooled there and spreading it around.

"So wet..." He says almost with disbelief, a tinge of surprise to his words "Did sucking my cock really get you this wet, angel?" You could only gasp, all thoughts interrupted and words caught in your throat. You felt him smirk against your skin, before sucking your nipple into his mouth. “Yeah? That feel good, Doll? Would’ve been so very mean of me to not repay you after the stunt you pulled back there”

He didn’t stay there for long, getting close to your face, purposefully making his lips hover right above yours. Before you could complain, two of his fingers entered you swiftly, making you gasp and arch your back involuntarily. Unlike you, his pace was fast and deliberate, as if watching you squirm was his one and only mission. All the while he hammered his fingers into you, palm of his hand slapping against your clit, he was glaring at you menacingly. “Fuck…” You whispered, all you managed to get out.

“Yeah? What’s that, Doll?” Getting closer to your face and pressing kisses all around the corner of your mouth, as if framing your face. His smirk only grew wider as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, slightly curling them before almost taking them out completely, and entering them again. “Did Mark ever do this for you? Hm? Fingering you until you were a sticky mess? Tell me, please, tell me-” He pulled away from your face, not once pulling out his fingers. He shimmied his way down your torso, stopping just above your pelvis, pressing soft kisses to the skin there. He licked and mouthed words of reassurance to the inside of your thighs, so irritatingly close to where you actually wanted him.

“No! He never did, never…” You managed to spit out. You wanted to beat him with a stick, the sly bastard knew the effect he had on you and you hated how cocky and insufferable it made him. The problem was that your thoughts were completely wiped from your brain and you couldn’t form a single coherent sentence other than the meek pleas and whimpers escaping your lips with every thrust of his hands. The moment you said that, as if to reward you for being so honest, he pressed his mouth to your clit, instantly feeling like he's air sealing it. He flicked his tongue notably quick, if you hadn't been completely overtaken by pleasure, you probably would've been surprised by his speed.

“You look gorgeous, darling, letting yourself go so easily.” He mouthed into your cunt, inaudible. You could hear the vulgar wet slapping of his tongue, and the filthy squelch of him licking you into his mouth.

That’s when he picked up the pace, holding on to the roots of his hair, steering his face closer into you, “Oh my God…” You really tried being as quiet as possible, knowing the compound was full of trained agents and spies who were always alert, even during their sleep. That proved to be impossible as he smirked and looked into your eyes, reveling in the way he made you feel and how tight you were.

You had to ground yourself somehow, so you gripped his forearm, guiding his hand as deep as he could. That familiar coil started to form in the pit of your stomach, making him grin even wider against you. “Thaaat’s it, Doll. God, you’re doin’ so well for me.” Bucky, looking for your pleasure, pulled out his tongue and began shaking his head from side to side.

That’s all it took for the coil to snap, strong, intense and completely blindsiding you. His movements gradually slowed down as he kissed his way up your neck, going up to your cheek and lastly on your forehead. “So pretty, y’know that? Did so well for me. Prettiest girl ever...” He laid with you for a minute there, basking in your presence and feeling the motion of your chest as you breathed. He pressed kisses to your nose, forehead and side of your jaw, making sure to not miss a single spot. You could only smile back at him when you noticed that all through pecking your face he was quietly chuckling against your skin. “I really do like you, you know that? This was unbelievable, don't get me wrong, but I really need you to know that you are so much more than just this”

Damn it. He really makes it so incredibly hard not to love him.

“I know… I know Bucky, you are so much more than just mind blowing sex to me too” You both can't help but giggle at your comment. “You were right, you know? You and me… were always gonna happen.” You continue. He looks at you almost in disbelief. You don't know how long he's been meaning to hear that from you. “Don't worry, angel. I'll make sure that we do. Always” Just as he finished his sentence, he collapsed his body onto yours, crashing both of your lips together. He was hungry, desperate, almost primitive with the ways he kissed you. You couldn't help but wonder the reason as to why Bucky was so pent up. Had he hooked up with any women after you? Had he been waiting for you this whole time? The thought must’ve been clearly eating at your brain, because at some point you weren't able to contain yourself and you let the question fly.

“Buck- Wait…” You tried to begin but he kept stealing kisses from you, just as starved as before “Buck, did you ever fuck anyone after me? Just pure curiosity” You pulled him away from your lips to look into his eyes, but he only stayed there for a second. He went back to biting and licking your lips the way only a famished man knew how to. “No..” He muttered into your lips, not pulling away for a fraction of a second. “How- How could i? The second I got a taste of you I couldn't erase it from my lips” He said, grabbing onto the back of your neck to pull you into his mouth even harder, his words coming out almost indistinguishable against the wetness of both of your mouths. “I tried for a while y’know? Tried to find other women attractive, even Sam helped for a while. But I just couldn't, Doll. You're the only one who knows how to work me” He finally finishes the sentence with a quiet groan. To some extent, you felt pity for him. He deserved to have been happy. But to be honest, you were more glad than anything, cause then it wouldn't have led you both to this.

As you kept kissing him you couldn't help but to look down towards his painfully hard cock. You had started feeling it a few moments back, rubbing against your belly, swinging and slapping against you with his every move. You reach down to grab it.

“Already?” you ask, commenting about his hard on. “What can I say? That super serum works wonders” He replies with snark. Holding himself up by his hands – which were laying to both of your sides– he began to look towards your hand as you worked it up and down. “Is that so? How about we test that out, soldier?” You shot your eyes open in faux surprise.

He laughed, finally looking back up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about we do?” His smile disappeared from his face instantly after he said this, making his expression one of concentration rather than anything else. He grabbed the base of his cock swiftly with one hand, keeping himself upright with his other arm, and with one languid motion he pressed the length of it to your cunt. He slapped it against you, looking at you with some sort of expression that whispered ‘and what are you gonna do about it?’

“Do you want this?” he whispers in your ear looking back down towards his hand, watching himself sliding his cock against the length of your slit. You can only moan back at him “Now’s really not the time to ask, Buck” He scoffs at your desperation and with one harsh motion he pounds his hips into you. You let out a guttural sound, forgetting completely that everyone else was asleep and if you were heard you could be both found here, laying naked. Bucky’s pace began to pick up, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from where you too were meeting, you couldn’t look away from such a sight.

Bucky leveled himself out and straightened his back, now grabbing you by your thighs instead of being propped up by his arms like he was earlier. You grabbed onto the cushions behind you as your eyes began to screw shut, feeling so completely overpowered by the feeling of him inside you. He hadn’t looked away from your cunt for one single second. He watched you swallow his cock easily with disbelief, shaking his head from side to side.

“Fuck, missed this pussy so much. Feels so good…” He grabbed you by the neck as he pushed you up to make you touch foreheads.

“God, i missed you too Buck” you close your eyes, trying to ignore the coil in your stomach. Bucky then tightens his grip on the back of your head and pulls you a few inches back, looking directly into your eyes crudely barefaced.

“Hm? I bet. That deadbeat couldn’t make my baby cum, could he?” He whispered into your face, his voice cracking and shaking after every thrust into you.

And as if to prove himself something, he let go of your neck gently, letting you fall into the cushions behind you. He grabbed you by the back of your knees and harshly pulled them to your shoulders, bending you in a way that only seemed vulgar. You —insecure and maybe a little ashamed of the position he had twisted you into—grab a pillow from beside your head and cover your face. As soon as he noticed you had done this, you felt the cushion being ripped from your face as he sent it flying into the darkness of the garden.

“Uh uh” he tuts at you, giving you a few taps on the cheek “I wanna see your face when you cum, baby. I want you to see me fucking into you. Can’t have your pretty face covered up, can we?” He taunts with a face of very obvious sarcastic disappointment. You couldn’t do anything but nod at him; all the snark you had in you before had left you along with your ability to speak words.

Bucky, still as desperate as ever, began to thrust his hips even faster. You were able to hear and feel the wetness between your legs, although very sure it wasn’t completely your doing. You looked down, trying to understand Bucky's fixation. As soon as you did you saw him ramming himself into you, his cock slick and shiny under the glow of the fairy lights.

“Y’like the view?”He smirked down at you, eyes dark with want. The room seemed to blur around you as your bodies moved in tandem, hips meeting in a desperate rhythm, each thrust pulling you both deeper into the frenzy. The air was thick with heat, every breath shared, every sound echoing in your ears.

Bucky was grunting now — raw, guttural — like a man undone, clinging to control by a thread. One of his hands cradled your face, holding you close, his gaze locked on yours as if he didn’t want to miss a single flicker of pleasure in your expression.

The pressure inside you coiled tighter with every movement, building to something you couldn’t outrun. You were burning up — flushed, breathless, slick with sweat. Every sensation hit at once, crashing into you like a wave: the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, the sounds falling from his lips.

It was too much — too good — and not nearly enough all at once.

“M’ gonna cum, Bucky” You barely managed to get the words out — a breathless whisper, trembling on your lips. Bucky didn’t respond right away. He just nodded, eyes heavy with heat, his jaw slack like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. The tension in him was palpable. You clung to his bicep with one hand, the other clawing at the muscles of his back, searching for something to ground you through the storm inside you.

Every nerve ending was on fire — like always, like only with him.

“You’re gonna drive me outta my damn mind,” he whimpered, his voice breaking as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His hips never faltered, moving with a determined rhythm that pushed you both closer to the edge.

“I’m so close, Doll. Just let go,” he panted against your skin. “I’m not askin’ for much — just that.”

And just like that, it hit you both — like lightning through the spine. A chorus of tangled moans filled the air as the wave crested, pulling you under together. Bucky wrapped his arms tight around you, chest pressed flush to yours as if afraid you'd slip away. You felt the frantic pounding of his heart, the sweat and heat clinging between you.

That blinding rush hadn’t even fully passed, but it still pulsed through your limbs, keeping you shivering beneath him. And Bucky — breathless, trembling — stayed there, arms locked around your body like you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

The world felt suspended for a moment — like time had bent to give you this small pocket of quiet, right here in each other’s arms.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath Bucky’s as he lay half-draped over you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, lips brushing your skin with each steadying breath. The sweat-slick warmth of his body was comforting rather than suffocating now, the burn of passion replaced by a slow, grounding calm.

Neither of you said anything at first. There was no need. He simply let out a soft sigh, the sound almost content, and then shifted slightly to cradle you better — his metal arm slipping under your back, warm from your shared heat, pulling you in. His other hand ran gently down your side, fingers tracing soft shapes on your hip as if to remind himself you were really there.

"You okay, Doll?" he finally murmured, voice rough around the edges, but tender. His nose nudged against your cheek as he looked down at you, eyes softer now. "Did I hurt you at all?"

You shook your head, offering him a lazy, hazy smile. “Not even close. That was... incredible.”

He chuckled quietly, that low, affectionate sound that made your chest flutter more than anything else. “Yeah,” he whispered, brushing some damp hair away from your face, “you just about killed me.”

You laughed, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead — slow, deliberate, like it meant something more than the ones before it. It did.

After a moment, he leaned back just enough to reach for a throw blanket at the end of the lounger, draping it over both of you with surprising care. You curled into his side instinctively, your leg tangling with his, hand resting against his chest — right over the heartbeat that hadn’t yet settled down.

“We gotta be up in, like… four hours,” he muttered, his forehead thunking lightly against your shoulder. “Stark’s stupid yacht leaves at sunrise. Something about ‘golden hour content’ and 'champagne breakfast'."

You groaned too, your voice muffled into his chest. “Ugh. If he plays that ‘I’m on a Boat’ song one more time, I’m throwing myself overboard.”

Bucky snorted. “I’ll jump with you. We'll go down together like Jack and Rose.”

“I get the door this time.”

“Deal.”

A sleepy silence settled again, his hand absentmindedly brushing up and down your back. Then, just as your eyes started to drift shut, he whispered, a quiet grin in his voice, “Y’know… if someone told me a year ago I’d end up half-naked, wrapped around you like this, under the stars, after a Tony Stark pool party... I’d say they were full of shit.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, nuzzling into his warmth. “Yeah,” you murmured, “but I think I always hoped you would.”

And in the stillness of the night, with only your shared heartbeat and the far-off sound of waves crashing in the distance, Bucky held you a little tighter — as if, finally, he understood what it meant to be home.

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