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tripletstephaniescp · 2 days ago

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Awesome story!

eighteen hours.

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Weeks apart on separate missions leave you and Bucky Barnes aching, desperate, and one heartbeat away from unraveling. The reunion? Eighteen hours of pure, breathless release.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, p in v, multiple rounds, overstimulation, edging, mutual desperation, shower sex, window sex, kitchen counter sex, use of restraints (soft), masturbation mention, lingerie tease, squirting (f), super soldier stamina, mild teasing from tb* members

It started like any other assignment.

A sharp morning. Polished boots. Steel chairs arranged around the Watchtower’s mission table. The kind of day where even the light felt clinical—too white, too bright, too final.

Valentina entered with a clipboard in hand and that usual glint in her eye, the one that said she already knew something you didn’t want to hear.

“Barnes, Yelena, Alexei, Bob—Bucharest first. Bogotá by week three. Rotating safehouses. No crossovers.”

You stiffened.

“Walker, Ava, and…”

She looked straight at you.

“You—Algeria. Then east through Istanbul. Targets on the move. You’re expected to stay mobile and out of range.”

The silence afterward said everything.

That pause before your name wasn’t a slip.

It was surgical.

Across the table, Bucky’s jaw tensed. He didn’t look at you, but his shoulders rolled tight. His metal hand flexed once, resting flat on the table like he was physically grounding himself.

This wasn’t routine.

This was designed.

The room shifted. Teams gathered their gear. Orders confirmed.

But neither of you moved.

Bucky brushed your fingers beneath the table—the kind of small, hidden touch that wasn’t meant to say goodbye. It was a promise.

We’ll find each other.

However we can.

—

Packing was mechanical.

Weapons, suits, coordinates, clearances.

Everyone was buzzing around the hangar level, focused on countdowns and jet fuel. But Bucky caught your wrist with a glance that made your breath hitch—then gently steered you down a side corridor.

He didn’t stop until you ducked into a quiet auxiliary room—once used for archive storage, now mostly forgotten. The lights were dim. A narrow bench ran along the wall. A few old mission files sat boxed in the corner.

He shut the door behind you.

“Just for a minute,” he said, voice low. “Just wanna be where you are.”

You barely nodded before he pulled you into his chest. He held you like he needed it—not tight or desperate, but complete. His warmth poured into you as you buried your face into the space between his neck and shoulder.

You ended up straddling his lap on the bench, both of you half-armored, half-undressed—hands roaming like you were trying to memorize every line, every scar, every breath.

“I hate this,” you muttered into his neck.

“I know.” His voice was steady. Anchoring. “But we’ll be okay.”

His mouth found the slope of your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower—teeth grazing before lips closed around your skin and sucked.

You gasped—part surprise, part pure heat.

“Bucky—”

“Gonna leave a few. Let ‘em wonder how many more are where they can’t see.”

He left another. And another. The bruises bloomed warm beneath your skin—high enough that your tactical suit wouldn’t cover all of them.

When he pulled back to look at you, his pupils were blown wide, lips kiss-bitten and breath ragged.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “Even if they split us across the damn planet.”

You ran your hands up under his shirt, nails scratching lightly across his ribs—grounding yourself in the solidity of him.

“You’ll text me when you can?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Even if it’s just one word?”

“Even if it’s just a photo.”

You smirked. “Of what?”

He grinned, leaning back like he had all the time in the world—even though you both knew better.

“I’m waiting for boob pics, love. Minimum one per timezone.”

You laughed into his neck and kissed his jaw, soft and smiling.

“You’re such a menace.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

When the comm finally buzzed for final departure prep, you lingered another moment, forehead pressed to his.

“We’re good?”

“Always.”

And then you slipped out—his warmth still clinging to your skin, and his hickeys hidden beneath your collar like the loudest secret in the world.

—

The first few days weren’t unbearable.

Busy hours blurred the worst of it—briefings, drone recon, field scans. The kind of missions that demanded your hands stay full and your focus sharp. You told yourself it helped. That staying in motion kept the ache at bay.

But the nights were something else entirely.

By the third night, sleep wouldn’t come. The cot beneath you was too narrow, too cold. You rolled over instinctively and reached for the other side—empty. Your palm flattened against the mattress like it could summon him there.

It didn’t.

You’d already stripped out of your tactical suit, skin flushed from a lukewarm shower and a restlessness that refused to settle. The mirror over the sink caught your reflection just as the last of the sun dipped beneath the window—warm dusk light casting gold across your damp collarbone, your bare shoulder.

You grabbed your comm. Lifted your phone.

Pulled down your undershirt just enough to let the neckline dip low—sweat clinging to the curve of your breasts, a faint bruise from his mouth peeking out beneath the edge of the fabric.

The angle was deliberate.

Head tilted back. Lips parted. Not a full reveal. But it said everything.

Still thinking about the way your hands fit around my waist.

Bet you’d wreck me if you were here.

You hit send before you could talk yourself out of it.

—

His reply came six hours later. No text. Just an image.

The lighting was shit—whatever rooftop he was on barely lit by the glow of city spill—but it didn’t matter.

He was shirtless.

Dog tags heavy and low over his chest.

Hair a little messier than usual, as if he’d just run a hand through it before taking the shot.

But the part that made your thighs press together?

His sweatpants.

Slung low. Way too low. Obscene, really—the waistband clinging just above the vee of his hips, and beneath it? A thick, unmistakable bulge pressing upward. Not subtle. Not suggestive.

Hard. Veined. Heavy. Angry.

Like he’d taken the photo mid-thought, right before palming himself. Like maybe he had.

Your name was probably still on his tongue when he snapped it.

You sucked in a breath, cheeks hot, and held the screen to your chest like it could warm the parts of you he was supposed to be touching.

This was manageable, you told yourself.

Just teasing. Just playing.

It would pass.

—

It got worse.

What started as playful—just a little edge, a little fun—turned into something raw. Unbearable. Every picture, every breathy message only twisted the knife deeper.

Bucky cracked first.

The signal finally held long enough for him to send a voice note.

You were mid-gear check when it came through, tucked into a corner of the safehouse with your earbuds in.

“Woke up with my hand around my cock,” he rasped, voice low, wrecked. “Thought it was you at first. Swear to God, I could feel you there. Your breath on my neck, your legs wrapped around me. Then I realized I was alone again.”

A pause. A harsh exhale.

“And fuck, baby… I nearly lost it.”

You played it three times.

Nearly dropped your comm on the third.

—

You didn’t just tease back. You retaliated.

The next photo was a mirror shot—deliberately filthy. You stood in the dim light of your bunk, chest bare, your breasts fully visible this time, no shame. One hand was sunk into your panties, fingers clearly pressing against the soaked fabric. The other held your phone steady, angled to catch the full view: your messy hair, parted lips, heavy-lidded eyes, and the slick glint of sweat on your chest. No caption. Just raw hunger in pixels.

This help you sleep tonight? Or should I take more?

He didn’t respond immediately. But when he did, it was short.

You’re not playing fair.

My cock’s been hard since sunrise. Haven’t touched it. Saving every second of this for you.

You sent a quick clip later—just a few seconds long. You didn’t even speak in it.

Just six seconds. The camera angled low—your hand slipping beneath the blanket between your thighs. No real view, just the movement. The blanket shifted slightly with every circle you traced over your clit. Soft moans escaped—broken, breathy, like you were trying to stay quiet. Then a whimper—his name, trembling from your lips. No skin shown. No climax caught. Just the sound and the hint and the promise of you falling apart.

Bucky watched it on repeat like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

—

Then came Ava.

You’d crashed hard that night—exhausted, sweaty, and stripped down to just your lingerie. The maroon lace set he liked. The same one he’d picked out. It had become a habit—wearing it when you missed him. A reminder. A tether.

Ava had been reviewing footage by the window for perimeter movement when she caught it.

The camera was focused outward. But the mic had picked up your sleep sounds in the background.

She wasn’t trying to be cruel when she played it back.

She just raised an eyebrow and pressed play—a grin tugging at her lips as the soft moans filled the air. You were murmuring his name. Restless. Breathless. Like you were dreaming of him—no, feeling him.

“Mmh… Bucky—please… inside me… deeper—oh god… please—”

Your voice cracked on the last word, a sharp gasp like you were right on the edge.

You could’ve died.

“Jesus,” Ava had laughed, not unkind. “Want me to send it to him? Y’know, for motivation?”

You didn’t answer fast enough. She already hit send.

—

He didn’t laugh.

He didn’t even text back. Just disappeared for a few hours.

Locked himself in the bathroom of the Bogotá safehouse, palms braced on the sink, sweat dripping from his temple to his jaw. The floor was cold. His cock throbbed painfully in the tight grip of his tactical jeans, already slick with precum from the sound of your voice in his ear—played over and over again like a goddamn drug.

He groaned low, forehead resting against the mirror as he finally undid his fly—reached in and freed himself with a hissed curse.

Hard. Angry. Red at the tip and twitching. His hand flexed uselessly beside him, trembling from restraint.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “Fuck, baby… what are you doing to me…”

But he didn’t stroke.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

Not without your hands.

Not without your thighs tight around his hips.

Not without your voice whispering that he could let go.

So he tucked himself away again—biting down hard on the side of his fist until it bruised, his pulse roaring like a storm.

Later, when the signal held again, he finally texted:

This was supposed to help.

All these videos. These fucking pictures.

It’s making everything worse, doll.

I need you so bad, I swear I’m gonna lose my mind.

—

He stopped sleeping properly.

The circles under his eyes were darker now, sharp enough to draw questions if anyone had the nerve. His mouth was constantly pressed into a tight, agitated line. The usual post-mission calm he carried—that calculated, steady presence of command—was cracking.

Every time he sat down to write up route plans, his hands twitched. His left hand—the metal one—wouldn’t stop flexing. Clenching. Releasing. Like he was trying to ground himself in anything that wasn’t your voice moaning his name.

The last time he tried to issue orders midbriefing, he nearly snapped a comm tablet in half.

“Safehouse Delta’s too close to the highway,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll reroute south. Four klicks. We’ll—”

He trailed off.

Everyone stared at the map table, then at Bucky—who was clearly no longer looking at anything but the wall. Or rather, through it.

His jaw clenched again. He tried to redirect.

“We’ll send Bob first to—”

But Bob was already looking sideways at him.

“You gonna pass out?”

“No.”

“You look like your brain’s buffering.”

“I said I’m fine.”

But his voice had cracked. Just slightly.

Yelena leaned back in her seat with a dramatic sigh, chewing on the end of a protein bar like this was better than Netflix.

“Alright,” she announced loudly, “I’m just gonna say what everyone else is thinking.”

Bucky didn’t even turn his head.

She kept going.

“You’re clearly about three days from spontaneously combusting from blue balls. You’ve been staring at walls, misreading maps, and grinding your teeth like it’s a fetish. Which—respectfully—gross.”

Alexei smothered a laugh. Bob coughed loudly into his fist.

“You need to jerk off or jump off a building,” Yelena finished, deadpan. “Pick one.”

Bucky finally looked up.

His eyes were bloodshot. His voice was tight when he replied.

“I’m not jerking off.”

That shut them up.

Yelena blinked. “…Okay. That’s not where I thought that was going.”

“I’m saving it. All of it.” His hand twitched again. “She deserves every goddamn second of it.”

A pause. The silence stretched—not awkward, just charged.

Even Alexei nodded solemnly, as if that was the only acceptable answer.

Yelena rolled her eyes but muttered, “Romantic. Disgusting. Continue suffering, I guess.”

—

Later that night, Bucky paced the rooftop alone. Fingers twitching. Breath uneven.

He pulled up your last photo again.

Your hand between your thighs. Lips parted. That little text below it:

I’d spread for you right here on this cot if you were with me.

He groaned into his palm.

Pressed the heel of his hand against the painful bulge in his pants.

Didn’t move. Didn’t stroke. Just gritted his teeth and endured.

“You better be ready for what I’m gonna do to you,” he muttered into the dark.

—

It was just after 7:00PM when the jet touched down.

The sky above the Watchtower was bruised in golds and fading gray, clouds curling low like dusk had rolled in too early. Your shoulders ached. Muscles stiff from too many hours strapped in gear, too many days sleeping with one eye open.

Your boots hit the floor with more weight than usual—the kind that didn’t come from exhaustion alone. It was something else. Something thick in your chest, pressing behind your ribs.

Inside the compound, it was unusually quiet.

Operatives passed by in pairs. Brief nods. No chatter.

Ava veered off toward medical, threw a wink over her shoulder, and mouthed, “Go get your man.”

You didn’t smile. Not yet.

Not until your fingers brushed the key panel of your shared room, and the door clicked open beneath your touch.

Something shifted the moment you stepped inside.

The air smelled like candle wax, clean linens, and something warmer underneath—musk and sandalwood, with a trace of vanilla. The room glowed gold in low light. Flickering candles burned on the desk, by the bed, and one small one beside the bathroom mirror.

It was quiet. But not empty.

He was there.

And the second he saw you, his face lit up.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed, already halfway to his feet. His voice was low but clear, as if speaking pulled breath right back into his lungs. “You’re home.”

That ache—the one locked in your chest—snapped clean open.

You dropped your duffel just as he reached you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, your cheek pressed against his collarbone. He smelled like soap and steel and something distinctly him—warm skin, freshly showered, a hint of cologne that clung to his shirt.

He didn’t devour you. Didn’t grope, didn’t rush.

He just held you.

One arm around your back, the other cradling the back of your head. His lips brushed the top of your hair.

You clung back like it might hold you together.

His hand ran slowly down your spine. You could feel the control in it—the way his chest rose hard against yours, like he was barely keeping the rest of him contained.

“I changed the sheets,” he murmured softly. “Lit a few candles. Put your shampoo out. Thought maybe you’d want a hot shower first.”

Your heart cracked, melted, rebuilt itself.

You nodded against him, cheek brushing the curve of his neck.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” His smile touched his voice, even as his hand lingered low on your back. “You always say you wanna feel clean before we get dirty.”

That earned a small laugh from you—quiet, but real.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cupping your cheek in one hand. His thumb brushed gently beneath your eye, like he was checking you for damage.

“I missed you,” he said. “Like breathing stopped.”

You kissed him, soft and slow—lips barely parting, just enough to feel the warmth of him beneath the quiet.

“Missed you more.”

He didn’t rush you when you stepped out of your gear. Just watched with quiet reverence, helping peel the layers off your shoulders and arms. He kissed your shoulder once—right over the old bruise he left weeks ago—and whispered:

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for 36 days. But I’m not rushing it. Not until you’re ready.”

Then he took your hand, kissed the inside of your wrist, and nodded toward the bathroom.

“Go on. I’ll be right here.”

—

You hadn’t even closed the door behind you.

The steam was already thick, curling from the shower where hot water slammed against tile. You peeled your clothes off slowly, shaking the last of the travel dust from your skin, limbs heavy from the mission—but your chest felt lighter. He was here. You were home.

You stepped into the spray and let it hit you.

Heat flooded your shoulders. Rolled down your spine.

The ache you’d ignored for weeks cracked wide open across your bones.

You arched slightly under the pressure of the water, fingers dragging slowly down your stomach. Your thighs pressed together at the memory of his voice—his lips on your neck, his hands gripping your hips like they belonged there.

You knelt briefly to grab a bottle you knocked over. Bent forward. Stretched.

And then—

“Mmh…”

Just a sound. A breath.

But it came from somewhere deep—unconscious, raw, and aching. It slipped from your throat like his name was caught beneath it.

The floor creaked.

You turned, startled—and everything inside you tightened.

He was there.

Bucky Barnes. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom like something ancient and carved from firelight. His chest rose fast, hard, like he’d sprinted across the room. Hair damp with sweat, not water. Shoulders tight. Fists clenched at his sides.

And he was naked.

Completely.

You hadn’t even heard him undress. But there he stood—broad, solid, his cock achingly hard and already slick with precum, flushed dark and twitching with every strained breath he took.

His eyes drank you in.

Steam wrapped around his body, clinging to every line of him. You watched his jaw twitch, chest heave. His cock twitched again—another thick drop of precum beading at the tip.

“Baby…”

His voice cracked. A breath. A prayer. Hoarse and wrecked.

“Please…”

“Please stop torturing me.”

But he didn’t move. Not yet.

Like he was waiting for your permission—even now, even while unraveling at the seams.

You reached for him.

One hand. Simple. Open. You pressed your palm to the center of his chest—felt the hammering heartbeat beneath it, the way his breath hitched.

He whimpered.

The sound broke from his lips like it had been fighting its way out for days. He stepped forward, cupped your waist, then your jaw, thumb trembling against your cheek.

“You’re real,” he whispered. “Fuck—you’re here.”

You smiled softly. Nodded.

He stepped into the shower with you—no hesitation this time.

The water soaked him instantly, but he didn’t care. He was already soaked in you. The scent. The need.

His hands were everywhere. One warm, the other metal, both reverent. They dragged up your spine, gripped your hips, held your face like it was holy.

“Missed you,” he rasped between frantic kisses.

“Missed your mouth. Your voice. Your thighs. The way you sound when I’m inside you—fuck, baby, I’ve been dying.”

Your back hit the tile with a dull thud. His body pressed into yours, all solid heat and desperation.

His cock bumped against your stomach—hot, heavy, leaking.

He gasped. “Touch me… please, just—let me feel you.”

You did more than touch.

Your hand curled around the base of him, felt him throb in your palm. He swore low against your neck, forehead pressing to yours as his hands skimmed lower, between your thighs.

“Jesus, sweetheart—”

His fingers slid through the slick between your legs.

“You’re soaked…”

He groaned. Slid two fingers inside you.

You gasped, walls clenching hard around the intrusion.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Tight… tighter than I remember. You really waited for me?”

You bit his jaw. “I didn’t even let myself finish, Bucky. You ruined me.”

That was all it took.

He gripped your thighs, lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing, and pinned you to the shower wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

“Hold on to me,” he breathed. “That’s it… Good girl.”

He lined himself up. Slick head pressed against your entrance. And then—

He sank in.

One thrust. Deep. Full.

You both cried out—voices echoing in the tile and steam.

The stretch. The heat. The sudden, perfect fullness.

He fucked into you with short, desperate thrusts—buried all the way, hips snapping with precision. You met him every time, nails clawing his back, gasping against his mouth.

Your orgasm ripped through you without warning—sharp, wet, loud.

“James, I—I’m coming!”

“I’ve got you. Let go. Soak me, baby.”

You did. You clenched so hard around him he almost collapsed.

He followed seconds after—buried deep, groaning your name as he came hard inside you, hips jerking, forehead pressed to your shoulder. His body trembled with the force of it. He held you there, still wrapped around him, his cock twitching inside your pulsing heat.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Not letting you out of this room for days.”

You kissed him through the fog, smiling against his lips.

“Good. I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Your legs were still shaking when he carried you out of the bathroom.

No towel. No words. Just the heat of his arms around you, the steady thump of his heart against your ribs, and the way the air between you still crackled like static. You smelled like him. He smelled like you. It wasn’t over. It had only begun.

He laid you on the bed like something sacred.

Candles glowed around the room, casting golden halos over damp sheets and flushed skin. The maroon lace slip sat untouched where he’d left it—delicate, sheer, wicked.

You reached for it with trembling fingers.

But Bucky caught your wrist gently. “Let me,” he said.

His voice was lower now. Hoarse. Reverent.

He lifted the slip over your head slowly, letting the lace fall like a whisper down your body. It hugged your hips, clung to your breasts just enough to tease—translucent and sinful. His lips brushed your spine as he adjusted the straps, hands shaking.

“I thought about this every night,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder.

“Fantasized about it. About you, straddling me in this. Had to lie there with my fists clenched, cock aching, just—breathing through it. Didn’t touch myself. Not once.”

His voice cracked. “Didn’t want to waste a single drop that wasn’t for you.”

You whimpered.

He hovered above you now—fully naked, flushed, his cock already hard again. Veined and glistening, twitching with the pulse of how badly he needed to be inside you.

But he didn’t rush.

Didn’t even move until you cupped his jaw and pulled him down into a kiss.

Mouths met softly, then harder.

Tongues sliding slow.

His body sinking into yours, heat to heat, heartbeat to heartbeat.

You grabbed the back of his neck and whispered against his lips, “Come here. Let me ruin you.”

He groaned, deep in his throat, and you flipped him onto his back, straddling his hips with shaking thighs. The lace slip rode up your thighs, leaving nothing in the way when his cock pressed hot and heavy against your dripping heat.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “You’re soaked through.”

You leaned down, your breasts brushing his chest, and ground your hips against his length. “You did this,” you whispered. “With every text. Every picture. Every breath.”

He was gone. Let you take full control.

You gathered the hem of the lace slip, just enough to bare yourself to him, and guided him in—sinking down slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

Both of you moaned, raw and open, mouths slack with need.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, head thrown back, fists clenched in the sheets.

“Still so tight, baby. Still fucking perfect.”

You started to move—slow at first, grinding your hips in deep, lazy circles that dragged the tip of his cock right against your most sensitive spot. His hands clamped hard on your thighs, trying to keep his control, but you didn’t make it easy.

“You gonna come again just from riding me?” he asked, breathless.

You nodded. “Already close.”

He groaned, slipping one hand between your bodies to rub firm, precise circles over your clit.

“There you go… let me feel you. Let go for me.”

And you did.

Your second orgasm hit like a goddamn wave—crashing through your spine, stealing your breath, squeezing around his cock so tight he choked on a moan.

He didn’t last much longer.

You kept grinding, whispering filth into his ear—how full he made you feel, how wrecked you were for him, how you still weren’t done.

That tipped him.

He came hard with a strangled moan, cock pulsing deep inside you, hips jerking as he flooded you for the second time. His arms locked around your waist as he gasped into the crook of your neck, trembling from the force of it.

You stayed like that, slumped against his chest, bodies stuck together with sweat and slick and heat.

“You alright?” he asked, voice scratchy.

“I’m feral,” you whispered back. “And I’m not finished.”

He chuckled, still panting. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not tapping out anytime soon.”

—

Later.

The wine sat untouched on the desk.

The lace slip lay discarded in a crumpled pile on the floor.

The candles had burned halfway down, wax pooling thick at the base.

And you?

You were flushed. Sweaty. Trembling.

Knees sinking into the mattress as you straddled his thighs once more, this time with your back to him—hips hovering, your whole body tingling.

He leaned against the headboard, sweat shining on his chest, watching you like a man possessed.

“You sure?” he rasped, voice ragged and frayed.

You didn’t answer.

You just reached back, gripped his cock at the base, and lowered yourself onto him slowly—inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

Both of you moaned. Loud.

Deep.

Almost pained.

Your hands braced against his shins behind you for leverage, thighs spread wide as you rode him hard—your ass slapping against his hips, slick and flushed with every bounce.

“Oh, fuck—”

His hands gripped your waist like he was anchoring himself.

“Jesus, sweetheart—you’re still so fuckin’ tight…”

You started to move—slow, heavy grinds, rolling your hips like you needed every inch of him rooted inside you. Bucky gasped behind you, his hands traveling from your hips to your thighs to your breasts, groping, squeezing, completely feral.

“You ride me like it’s the only thing keeping you alive,” he growled.

“Look at that ass—fuck, I can see it bounce every time you fucking slam down.”

You moaned—head tilted back, chest rising and falling—sweat glistening between your breasts.

And then—his fingers slid between your thighs from behind. Two of them, circling your clit with ruthless precision.

“I wanna feel you come again, baby. Let me feel you fucking gush on my cock.”

Your thighs trembled. Muscles locked. Your core started to spasm.

“Bucky, I—I think I—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Come on, baby. You’re dripping, you’re so fucking close—let it happen.”

You broke with a cry.

Legs shaking. Hands digging into his thighs.

Your pussy clamped down hard, and then it hit—

You squirted.

Hard.

Hot wetness sprayed between your thighs, down over his cock, soaking the sheets. Bucky let out a strangled moan, clutching your waist like he was going to lose his mind.

“Goddamn—fuck, look at you. You’re gonna make a fucking mess, aren’t you, baby?”

He didn’t stop.

He snapped his hips up into you, relentless now—grinding deep as your soaked cunt fluttered around him, so overstimulated your vision blurred.

“Still want more?” he panted, thrusting up again, angling perfectly.

“I can feel how much you need it. So greedy for me—so fucking full of my cum, and still not satisfied.”

You couldn’t answer. You just moaned, nodding wildly, nails dragging down his thighs, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his breath hot on your shoulder as he leaned forward, one hand now wrapped tight around your throat.

“You gonna come for me again? Gonna make a mess on my cock one more time?”

“Yes—James, please—”

And you did.

A second wave slammed into you.

You screamed, back arching, body locking as you squirted again—wetter this time, gushing down over his balls, onto the sheets, soaking everything beneath you.

Bucky lost it.

“Shitshitshit— I’m coming—fuck, baby—I’m—”

He grunted, jerking up into you with three final brutal thrusts as his cock pulsed deep inside you, filling you again, so hot you felt it flood your walls.

You collapsed forward onto the mattress, his arms catching you just before you slumped completely. He held you tight from behind, your body still twitching, both of you covered in sweat, slick, and release.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, voice dazed, completely gone.

“You just… soaked me, baby.”

You half-laughed, half-whimpered. “I couldn’t help it. You broke me.”

“Good,” he growled, kissing your neck. “You can break me next.”

—

You should’ve been done.

You should’ve been shaking, satisfied, breathless from three rounds and nothing left to give.

But you weren’t.

The ache still lived in your bones.

The emptiness still throbbed between your legs.

And when Bucky’s lips brushed your temple—slow, tender, trembling—you felt it in him too.

He needed more.

You both did.

The sheets beneath you were damp. Your thighs were slick. Your chest rose with every sharp breath, nipples flushed and sensitive, body still twitching from your last orgasm. And still… the hunger hadn’t dulled.

“You okay?” he whispered against your throat.

“No,” you rasped, voice cracking.

“I need you again. Right fucking now.”

Bucky exhaled a shaky breath. His cock twitched against your thigh—already stiffening again.

“Jesus, doll… you’re insatiable.”

He kissed your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Then he shifted—slow but deliberate—and suddenly, your wrists were gathered above your head. You gasped at the motion, but his grip was careful, tender. He reached for the discarded shirt at the foot of the bed and looped it around your wrists—soft, warm, not tight.

“Just wanna keep you here,” he murmured, kissing your palms one at a time.

“Let me take care of you.”

Your stomach fluttered. Your thighs clenched.

And when he dropped between your legs, your breath hitched so hard your back arched off the bed.

“James—”

“Shhh,” he purred, brushing his stubble along the inside of your thigh.

“Gonna keep you right here, sweetheart. Gonna make you come until your body forgets what rest feels like.”

His tongue dragged through your folds—slow, warm, filthy.

The first flick over your clit sent your hips off the bed—but he was already holding you down, fingers firm, spreading you open like he was fucking home.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled into your cunt, voice rough with disbelief.

“Jesus, baby, you taste like both of us… fuck. You’re perfect.”

He devoured you.

Long, slow licks that lapped up his own cum still leaking from you. Wet, obscene noises filled the room—every slurp, every moan against your pussy like it was the only thing that ever mattered.

You whined. Cried out. Legs trembling.

His mouth worked faster, tongue flicking your clit with maddening precision—soft then hard, gentle then firm, always changing, always knowing exactly how to ruin you.

“Bucky—fuck—baby I—”

Your voice broke.

Your hips bucked.

You were so close again, already, already—

He pulled back.

“Not yet,” he rasped, lips wet and eyes dark.

“Not until you beg for it.”

You sobbed—from the overstimulation, from the ache, from how badly you needed to fall apart.

“Please—please, baby, I can’t—just let me—let me come, please—!”

That broke him.

He groaned, deep and guttural, and latched onto your clit with his mouth wide and relentless—tongue flat, dragging fast and rough, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs.

You exploded.

A scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm hit like a strike of lightning—your whole body shook, fists clenched, toes curled, thighs trembling. You gasped so hard your ribs ached. The headboard thudded behind you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice soaked in reverence.

“One more, baby. Just one more for me.”

You didn’t even get to respond.

Didn’t even breathe.

Because his tongue never stopped.

He kept sucking—soft at first, then harder—until another wave curled sharp behind your ribs. You sobbed his name, pulled at the binds, tried to run but couldn’t move.

You came again.

Harder.

Legs seizing, slick gushing between your thighs, soaking his face, your body curling from the sheer force of it.

He kissed your trembling thighs through the aftershocks.

Pressed his forehead to your belly.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“I don’t even know where I am,” you panted.

“And I think I like it.”

—

Later—

Maybe thirty minutes.

Maybe five.

Time had stopped meaning anything.

It warped, curled, bled together beneath the hum of overstimulation and breathless ache.

You lay curled on your side, one leg bent, sheets tangled around your calves. Sweat cooled on your skin in sticky rivulets. Your breathing had started to even out, but your body still pulsed from the inside—too full, too stretched, too tender to be still.

And then—

The mattress dipped behind you.

You felt his warmth before you felt his hands.

He slid in close—chest to your back, thighs pressed to yours, breath curling against your neck.

His lips brushed your shoulder.

“Still want me?” he asked, voice soft as fog.

You answered with a sigh. Reached back without looking, your palm wrapping around the hard length of him, thick and hot and already twitching against your fingers.

“Always.”

You rocked your hips back, slotting yourself perfectly into him.

He kissed your spine.

Tucked his face into the crook of your neck, and whispered like a man undone.

“I’ll never stop wanting you.”

One hand lifted your top leg, just slightly—fingers gliding over your thigh. His other arm wrapped low around your waist. You felt the weight of him, the warm press of his tip teasing at your entrance—slow, so fucking slow—until he finally pushed inside.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, as if the heat of you had burned him.

“You’re still tight. Still fluttering around me.”

You whimpered.

He thrust deep.

Steady. Gentle.

Every movement an unspoken prayer.

No rhythm. No pace. Just a rolling, molten motion—his cock dragging deep and slow, slick with everything you’d already shared, stroking right against the spot that still trembled.

“I could live here,” he breathed. “I want to live here.”

Your hand gripped his forearm where it wrapped across your middle. He pulled you back against him with every gentle thrust, grounding you in the heat of his body, his breath stuttering where it ghosted along your neck.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured. “So fucking good.”

“Still feels like a dream,” you whispered.

“Then don’t wake up. Just… stay right here. Let me have you like this.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. Tears stung, soft and sudden. It wasn’t pain—it was too much pleasure. Too much love. The way he moved inside you like your body was a temple. Like every inch of you was his.

“Tell me you’re mine again,” he whispered, voice breaking.

You choked on a moan.

“I’m yours, James. Always.”

You came first—slow and quiet. A gentle quake that rippled from your core outward, your body trembling against him as your inner walls clamped down tight. You gasped softly, a sob in your throat, your hands fisting in the sheets.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

“Let go, doll. Let me feel you.”

He wasn’t far behind.

He buried himself deep, groaning low into your hair, his whole body taut as his release surged inside you again—slow and warm, his cock pulsing deep as he held still, hips locked to yours.

You lay there, body slack and soft, his cock still inside you.

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

His fingers traced lazy shapes on your belly, his lips pressing soft, almost absent kisses to your damp shoulder, your neck, your cheekbone.

“You okay?” he asked eventually, voice quiet.

You nodded.

“I think I’m in love with you again.”

He smiled against your skin. “Good. I never stopped.”

—

Your body was trembling again.

Not with the sharp, writhing spasms of climax—but the deeper, low-grade tremor of exhaustion.

The kind that came after too many orgasms and too little rest.

Muscles fluttering, breath short, limbs weak. You felt boneless and heavy, like your body had melted halfway into the mattress.

And yet—

Your core still throbbed.

Your nipples still ached.

Your cunt still ached for him.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Bucky sat back on his heels beside you, eyes trailing over your form with something like worship—something like worry.

His hand reached out slowly. Brushed your sweat-slicked hair off your forehead. Pressed a soft kiss there.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice gentling. “You with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded once, eyes glassy. Your throat was too dry to speak right away.

“Breathe for me. C’mon.”

His thumb stroked your cheek.

“You look wrecked.”

“I am…”

Your voice came out hoarse.

“I’m so tired.”

That broke his heart a little—you could see it in the way his brows creased. His jaw clenched like he was trying to talk himself down from his own feral hunger.

“Then let’s stop, okay?” he offered softly. “Let me clean you up, hold you for a bit. You need rest.”

But your hand was already moving.

Shaky, slow—but determined.

You reached between his legs and wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock.

Still hard.

Still thick and flushed and leaking at the tip like he’d never finished.

His breath caught.

“Baby—”

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, tears suddenly springing to your lashes.

“Please, don’t stop. I need you.”

He looked stricken.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured. “I don’t wanna take too much.”

“Then be gentle,” you gasped, stroking him slowly.

“But don’t pull away. I need more. I want you again. I want you.”

His restraint cracked like glass.

With a low, ragged sound, Bucky leaned down to kiss you—soft, shaky, like a prayer being answered. He whispered against your lips.

“Tell me when to stop, baby. Or I won’t.”

You nodded.

Wrapped your arms around his neck.

Pulled him into you.

He guided your legs open with reverent hands—watching your face the entire time, watching for any flinch or hesitation. You were sensitive. Sore. Spent.

But not done.

“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“So much it hurts.”

You barely had breath left to answer.

“Then have me,” you whispered. “Take what’s already yours.”

His cock slid into you slow—so slow—inch by inch, the stretch deep and aching, but your body welcomed him like he’d never left.

He moaned into your throat.

“Fuck, baby… still so tight. I can feel your pulse around me.”

He moved gently. Just the slow grind of his hips, the full drag of his cock over soaked, sensitive walls. His hand slid under your back, pulling you flush to his chest.

“You tell me when to stop. You hear me?”

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Just keep giving me all of you.”

And so he did.

With every thrust, he kissed you. With every shift of his hips, he whispered your name. His fingers stroked your side, your hip, your waist—every inch of skin he could reach. You shook beneath him, moaning soft and high each time he bottomed out.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped. “You’re still taking me like it’s the first time. My perfect girl.”

Your orgasm crept in like fog, soft and wet and overwhelming.

You came with a shuddered cry, barely able to hold him, but your body squeezed around him tight—fluttering, spasming, claiming him all over again.

“That's my girl,” he whispered, voice shaking. “So fucking good for me.”

And then he followed—hips stuttering, forehead pressed to yours as he groaned your name like a benediction. His cock throbbed deep inside, spilling more warmth into the mess already flooding between your legs.

He collapsed next to you, immediately pulling you into his arms. Your body was trembling. His thumb stroked your cheek.

“No more unless you ask,” he murmured against your hair.

“I’ll only give you what you want.”

—

The sky was beginning to lighten.

A dusky indigo bled into grey, softening the skyline behind the Watchtower’s windows. But inside the room, time was a blur of candlelight, heat, and the thick, dizzying scent of sweat and sex.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d fully caught your breath.

Your whole body felt glass-thin. Shivering. Sensitive. The sheets clung to your skin with sweat, and your legs barely worked. But the ache was still there. Nestled low. Pulsing. It didn’t fade.

Bucky’s palm slid over your thigh—soft, slow, as if testing your response.

His voice came a moment later, raspy and hesitant. “Sweetheart… we can stop. You need rest. I can wait.”

But you turned to him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. Your fingers found his, laced through them.

“I want more,” you whispered. “Please… take me there.”

He exhaled like you’d just saved his life.

Guiding you gently toward the windows—your legs shaky, but moving—he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “I’ll be gentle. Just let me see you.”

The whole room swam around you, golden in candlelight and glimmering sweat.

The skyline stretched before you. Towering buildings, distant lights. No eyes. Just your reflection—flushed, ruined, hair damp and tangled across your shoulders.

“Fuck,” Bucky exhaled when he saw you.

“Look at yourself, baby. Look what I’ve done to you.”

You braced your palms against the cool glass, breasts pressing to it as your body arched. The contrast of heat and chill made you gasp. Bucky moved in behind you, spreading your thighs with his knee. One hand on your hip. The other wrapped around his cock, dragging the head through your soaked folds.

“Still dripping,” he muttered. “Even now. Jesus, you never stop, do you?”

“I need it,” you whispered. “Still need you.”

He didn’t make you wait.

Not this time.

He slid into you with one deep, brutal thrust—your bodies colliding with a smack so loud it echoed off the glass. Your moan fogged the window instantly, your hands flattening harder against it.

“Bucky—fuck—”

He set a hard rhythm, pulling your hips back to meet every thrust, the wet sound of your bodies filling the room. You could barely stand, legs shaking, forehead pressed to the glass.

“That’s it. Just like that,” he groaned. “So fucking perfect like this. My girl. My pussy.”

His hand slid around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, grounding. His mouth hovered by your ear.

“You were made for me,” he said. “Fucking built for this.”

“Harder,” you begged. “Please—please don’t stop.”

“Look at your reflection,” he rasped. “Look how good you look. Look how you’re taking me.”

You opened your eyes—and the sight of yourself, cock-stuffed, sweat-slick, wild-eyed, flushed and wrecked against the window, nearly sent you over the edge.

He thrust harder. Faster. Your thighs trembled violently.

“Gonna come,” you sobbed. “Can’t—Bucky—I can’t hold it—”

“Then don’t,” he growled. “Come for me, baby. Come with the whole fucking city watching.”

You shattered.

Legs giving out.

A scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm slammed through you like lightning. Your vision blurred. Your body buckled. Bucky caught you before you hit the ground—arm locking around your waist as he kept moving, groaning into your neck.

“Fuck—fuck—gonna fill you again—”

His hips snapped hard, once, twice—and then he came with a guttural sound, spilling inside you with a heat that pushed out around the edges. His head dropped to your shoulder, body shuddering as he emptied himself again.

You stood there for a long time—pressed to the glass, panting, twitching. Your hands limp against the windowpane. Bucky held you like you were breakable.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded faintly.

“Good. ‘Cause we’re not done.”

—

The sun was climbing now.

Pale gold spilled across the Watchtower skyline, casting long streaks of light onto the floor like it was forgiving the sins you were still committing.

Your whole body ached—but not in the way that begged for rest.

It was a deep, needy pulse. Faint, but still there. A hunger that wouldn’t let go.

You stumbled barefoot into the kitchenette, still bare, still slick between your thighs, wearing nothing but Bucky’s hickeys. Your hair was tangled. Your lips were swollen. Your legs trembled with every step.

Your hand landed on a protein bar. You peeled it open with shaking fingers and leaned on the counter for support.

“You better be looking for food,” you said over your shoulder, breathless and hoarse.

You heard the footsteps.

But they didn’t head for the fridge.

Bucky’s body pressed into you from behind—solid, burning hot, and still hard. He slid one arm around your waist, the other reaching up to gently move your hair aside so he could press a kiss to your neck.

“I am hungry,” he rasped, his voice low and feral.

“Just not for that.”

“Bucky,” you groaned, half-laughing, half-destroyed. “I can’t even feel my legs—”

“Good,” he whispered. “You don’t need ‘em.”

Before you could blink, he bent you over the kitchen island.

Your palms slapped down on the cold countertop, and you gasped as your bare nipples brushed the smooth marble.

You didn’t even get the chance to speak.

He lined himself up and pushed in fast—no prep, no warning, just the slick glide of his cock stretching you open again, sliding back into your wrecked body like it was home.

“Fuck, Bucky—!”

“Still so wet,” he growled behind you.

“Still squeezing me like you want more.”

His hands slid to your hips, gripping tight, pulling you back against him with every hard thrust.

This wasn’t slow.

This wasn’t tender.

It was filthy, frantic, barely-in-control fucking. Not because he didn’t care—but because he still needed you that badly.

The sound of skin slapping echoed in the tiny space. The sticky squelch of your soaked cunt taking him again and again filled the air. Your moans bounced off stainless steel and tiled walls.

You dropped your head onto your forearm.

“We… already did this—eight times,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he growled, fucking into you deeper.

“And you’re still fuckin’ perfect. Still taking it all.”

“You’re gonna kill me—”

“Then what a fucking way to go, sweetheart.”

He slid a hand around your front, fingers seeking out your clit, stroking with maddening precision. The way he touched you was still worshipful—even in this chaos.

Your whole body clenched.

“You want one more?” he asked, voice thick, rough, hungry.

“You got one more in you for me, doll?”

“Yes—yes—please—just one more—!”

You came hard. Your scream was ragged, echoing through the kitchen, and your knees nearly gave out from the force of it. The overstimulation blurred your vision with white-hot static, but your body still took every inch of him.

Bucky groaned deep and low, hips jerking as he spilled inside you one last time—his cock pulsing, his chest pressed to your back as he moaned your name like a blessing.

He didn’t sag against you. Didn’t drop.

He stayed upright, body still buzzing, cock still twitching inside you. You could feel him—full, ready again. You were the one shaking. Not him.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered. “You’re still hard.”

“Told you,” he murmured, breath warm against your ear.

“I could do this for days.”

“James…”

He slid his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you upright, holding you there with his cock still buried deep.

“I’ll stop if you need me to,” he whispered.

“Just say the word.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, heart thudding weakly.

“…I think my soul already came twice.”

Bucky laughed softly. Kissed the crown of your head.

“Rest, baby. I’ll still be here when you wake up. Hard as a fucking rock.”

—

You didn’t know what time it was when you finally woke.

Only that the light outside was warmer. Honey-gold, slipping through the windows in slow streaks. The world felt distant. Blurry. But the weight behind you wasn’t.

Bucky’s arm was still around your waist, his chest pressed along your back. Warm. Steady. His breath ghosted over the back of your neck in a soft, familiar rhythm.

Your body ached in the best ways—sore thighs, puffy lips, bruised hips—but it was the ache in your chest that hummed the loudest.

You blinked. Shifted slowly.

He stirred.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice still sleep-rough.

“You okay?”

You turned to face him—carefully, slowly—and found his eyes already open, watching you.

“Mhm. Everything hurts,” you whispered. “In a good way.”

Bucky smiled. Just a little. One of those soft, private smiles he saved for no one but you.

“Told you I’d wreck you.”

“You did. Multiple times.”

He chuckled, then leaned forward to kiss you.

No tongue. No hunger. Just warmth. Lips brushing yours with slow reverence, like he was re-learning your taste now that the storm had passed.

You melted into it.

Pressed your forehead to his.

His fingers traced lazy lines across your spine, slow and aimless.

“Missed this,” he whispered. “Missed you.”

You whispered it back. Quiet. Honest.

Then let the silence settle over you both for a while—safe, sacred, slow.

Eventually, after a second nap and a shower where no one tried to fuck anyone against the tiles (God bless you), you both managed to drag yourselves into clothes and make your way toward the common area.

Bucky wore a black tee and gray sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. You were in a loose hoodie and biker shorts—though judging by the soreness between your thighs, sitting might be a challenge.

His arm was around your waist the whole walk.

Your legs still wobbled slightly, and he adjusted his pace to match yours. Not a word about it. Just his warm palm pressing steady against your hipbone like a grounding wire.

—

The squad was already gathered around the Watchtower’s long dining table.

It was pasta night.

Yelena sat at the end, spooning pesto onto her plate with war-like intensity. Ava nursed a glass of wine. Bob looked half-asleep. Alexei was double-fisting garlic bread.

John Walker looked up the moment you stepped into view.

“Oh look,” he said dryly. “It lives.”

You flipped him off without stopping.

“Someone got their back blown out,” Ava added sweetly, raising her glass.

“We heard everything,” Alexei boomed. “Whole floor shook.”

“I had to wear my noise-canceling headphones,” Bob mumbled, half amused, half scarred.

Yelena didn’t even look up from her plate.

“I placed eight rounds in the pool. I win. Pay up, losers.”

You covered your face with your hands.

Bucky didn’t blink.

Just leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear, voice low and smug.

“We could’ve made it nine.”

You choked on your wine, burst out laughing, and slapped his chest as he grinned like the devil himself.

And when his hand slipped onto your thigh under the table—warm, firm, possessive—you didn’t move it.

You just smiled.

And yeah…

You weren’t done.

💜 @iamthatonefangirl @sonja-blayde

2K notes · View notes

tripletstephaniescp · 2 days ago

Text

This was deliciously evil. I loved it.

this vertigo of bliss

Dark!New Avenger!Bucky x Scientist!Reader

Summary: You were hired by Val to work alongside the New Avengers in the watch tower. Of course, you weren’t superhuman beings like them, but you were a brilliant scientist. And while the team went off on missions in their loud jets with their guns and grenades to fight battles, you stayed and took care of your lab and carried on with your research projects. Always looking for ways that might help your superheroes friends. Be it finding ways to heal their injuries faster, or how to keep them healthier, or understand their modified DNA better so that in the future as they age – albeit slower than most humans – they’ll suffer less. Plus, your research would be useful in case new superhumans popped up out of nowhere, like Bob did. And you were proud of your work, as was the team, but then one day you go down an ambitious rabbit hole and make a mistake. Luckily Bucky is there to save the day. Or is he?

Themes: sex pollen trope, mentions of drugs, smut, mild degrading kink, mild breeding kink, dom!bucky, explicit language, c*m play, aftercare

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You could hear your own heartbeat, your heart going insane inside your rib cage – a warning sign. This was bad. Very, very bad.

You couldn’t do anything but stand back and watch the pale smoke fill your lab, reaching every crevice, filling your lungs, coating your skin and leaving it feeling oily and dirty. You gasped for air, the mask over your face completely useless.

Shit, what had you done? What the hell had you done?

You were well aware it was hubris to even get into those secret HYDRA files on your computer. You knew it was selfish to try and recreate the drugs they used all those decades ago. You knew it. You knew it. It was wrong on so many levels. There’s a reason these files are so well hidden.

And you told yourself you’d never follow through. That you’d stop right before you created this damned thing. But you couldn’t stop. It was so tempting to do what is most forbidden and here you were now, breathing in your mistake.

You took the useless mask off, along with your lab coat. Your body was heating up. And you felt feverish. Like in a haze. And you knew what was happening. You’d read it all this morning. And you knew it would be hours before you felt normal again. Before this itch went away. This animal inside you, suddenly awake and hungry for… everything.

No, no, no.

You could barely stand up.

It wasn’t supposed to be this potent. You knew nothing would leak outside the lab, it was designed that way for safety, but you still locked the entrance just in case.

You blinked a couple of times, trying to reorient yourself as best you could, despite the smoke filling your nose and throat. Nobody was in the tower except you today. The team had left on some mission this morning.

Or so you thought.

Because as you were holding onto the wall, trying to make sense of what was happening to you, you heard someone knocking on the door.

“Hey, Doc. You in there?” A deep voice. Bucky. “The system notified me that something was wrong up here. Are you okay?”

Ah shit. Just his voice was making things worse. Your legs trembled, you were gasping for air. Your body throbbing at the mere thought of him, his hands, his mouth, his touch, his–

“Bucky.” You managed to respond to him. “Please,” You were getting breathless, almost fucking moaning, mouth watering just at the thought of him standing right there… no, no, no. “Please, don’t come in.” You managed to tell him, every fiber of your being wanting nothing more than to just let him use you, let him rut into you, let him–

“Uh, you don’t sound okay, Doc. Are you hurt?” He asked, the panic and concern very evident in his voice.

Fuck. No, he had to leave. Now. He had to leave now.

You managed to lean against the cool wall, trying to see past the pure lust coursing through your veins. You breathed slowly. “Bucky, you have to leave. Okay? I’m not hurt. I’ll be fine, you just have to leave. Now. Please.”

“No,” He argued, sounding worried. “You don’t sound alright. I’m coming in.” He said. And there was usually no arguing with that tone.

“No,” You whispered weakly. He had access to everything in this tower. Of course he could unlock the door with no problem. And before you could tell him not to, Bucky was in your lab. “Bucky, no.” You whispered, unable to speak properly.

You felt warm. Hot. Burning. And you could see Bucky’s large frame moving around in the smoke.

“Doc, what the–,” He stopped speaking abruptly. You felt the realisation sinking in, even in him.

You felt tears falling down your face. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, watching him get closer to where you stood, “I’m so sorry. Look, just walk away. We’ll wait it out.” It pained you just to say it. “Go away, Bucky.”

“Doc,” His voice was strained as he spoke, “What have you done?” His face so somber and blank. He was losing it too…

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again. “I didn’t know it would– I thought I could stop. I didn’t think…” You whimpered as he got closer, your brain – whatever part of it remained coherent and not lust drunk – knew he was feeling it too.

That pull. That damned itch. That need to feel, or grab, or bite, or fuck another warm body…

Bucky stood right in front of you. In full tactical gear. His guns were still strapped to his body. His glorious body… strong and muscular.

“You…” You spoke, despite the burning desire of wanting to just throw yourself at him and let him use you however he wanted. “You have to leave, Buck.” You whimpered, gasping for air, feeling your skin all warm and damp with sweat.

He was burning too. His fists clenched. His skin shiny with sweat, his body heat almost radiating off him. He was silent, then he reached for you with his metal hand. Tracing his cold metal fingers down your neck, feeling your quick pulse.

“You know I can’t do that.” His fingers carefully wrapped around your throat. He was losing control. “You know I can’t walk away from this. And neither can you.”

Something was different about his voice. Something was darker.

“I’ve been through this before, Doc.” He leaned in and held your stare. “Believe me when I say, it gets worse if you don’t fuck it out of your system. The first hour is fine. Tolerable. But by the third, the fourth hour… you feel like you’re losing your mind. Like you’re not even human anymore. Like you were made just to breed. Like an animal.”

“Please,” You felt fresh tears fall down your face. The guilt was still there under all the lust and filthy desires. “I didn’t mean for this to–,”

“Shh, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got each other. We can get out of this.” He leaned in and nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent which to him felt like the most ambrosial scent ever. “I can make it better.” He promised, pressing his body into yours. “I’ll make it feel good.”

You whined, tilting your head back and exposing more of your neck and throat. Surrendering. “But, Bucky…” You tried, weakly.

“Don’t fight it.” He said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. “It gets worse when you fight it, Doc. You know that, don’t you?”

That darkness in his eyes was new. You didn’t recognise it.

“I didn’t know it would–,”

He cut you off. “It would what?” He barked. His icy stare had you frozen in place. “You didn’t know what you were creating?” He taunted, and you noted – even in your own hazy state – that the smoke, the drug, whatever it was, was affecting him way more than it was affecting you. Because judging by his face, his voice, his stare, his movements… Bucky was almost completely gone. “Huh? You didn’t know what this drug was? You didn’t know what it could do? You’re a smart woman, Doc. Surely you knew what you were making…”

While you were clawing, trying to hold on to your sanity, Bucky’s words were luring over to the other side. “No…”

“Yes you did.” He accused. “You knew all along. And you still made it.”

“Please, Bucky.” You begged. You begged for… you didn’t even know what for. All you felt was desire, and pain. A hot pain. Like something inside you contorting, wanting to explode.

Bucky smirked, both his hands grabbing you this time. “It’s starting to hurt, isn’t it?”

You blinked away the tears and nodded, pleading with him with your eyes. Then you caught yourself, heavy-eyed, mumbling, “Make it better… please.”

That did it. That got rid of whatever was making both of you hold back.

Bucky picked you up and slammed your back against the wall – all while kissing you hungrily, like his life depended on it. You couldn’t even form a proper thought as his tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan into the kiss.

Your hands slid into his ridiculously soft hair and he held you tightly against him. Your core pressed against his firm body as his mouth moved perfectly against yours, driving you crazy. Well, crazier.

You didn’t care that you were dry humping him, all riled up just from his kiss.

“That feels good, huh? Rubbing yourself on me like that?” He moaned quietly into the kiss as your hand gently tugged on his hair. He smirked and spread your legs apart just a little so he could be closer to you.

His hands held you up, securely against him, he had a very firm grip on your thigh, his other hand placed right under your ass – holding you up while he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

“I’m gonna make it better, okay? You hear me, Doc? I’ll make it feel so good.” His lips left yours momentarily to kiss along your jaw, and down your neck, nibbling on your skin and making you moan out loud.

He pulled away from you for a moment, and stared into your eyes again. Almost like he was looking for any warning signs which told him to stop, “Tell me I can.” He demanded, “Tell me I can fuck you however I want. Tell me I can use your body and make us both feel better.” The pleading tone in his voice was hard to ignore.

You could tell he was fighting it too. The animalistic, primal urge to fuck. To breed.

“You can.” You told him, wanting. Just wanting. “Please, I’ll… I'll let you do anything. Just make it feel better.”

“You’re safe with me, okay? I won’t hurt you. I need you to remember that, okay?” His voice sent chills down your back and you didn’t want to be all slow and gentle anymore, you simply couldn’t wait any longer, so you reached out and started unbuckling his pants, and he helped you by tearing your clothes off, and slipped his hand in between your legs. Your naked, squirming body pressing against his tactical gear felt immoral in a way you couldn’t explain.

You were wet, embarrassingly so. And even you could tell just by how easily Bucky ran his knuckles along your wet folds, smearing your arousal around in the process. He chuckled right in your ear as you pulled his cock out and stroked it with vigour.

“Can’t wait, huh?” He slipped his forefinger and his middle finger through your entrance with ease and grunted in your ear as he felt your walls instantly welcoming him in. You could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the spots you wanted him too. “Just wanna be fucked badly, don’t you?”

“Bucky…” you whimpered and closed your eyes when he leaned down and nibbled on your skin around your collar bones. Something about how desperately, and sinfully his name escaped your lips drove him wild. You bucked your hips against his hand and he chuckled as you moaned out loud while he touched you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he held you up easily with just his metal hand. The rough material of his gear chafing your skin but you did not care. “Bucky,” You whined when you felt his cock briefly brush against your wet folds. “More, please. Please.” You cried out.

“I know, I know. I feel it too.” He kissed down your neck, smirking against your skin and peppering it with kisses as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. “I know, baby. I know it hurts. I’ll make it better, okay? Just let me in…”

He pushed himself into you, stretching you out as he went. His nails digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours clawing at his neck, and shoulders as he filled you up nicely. You were both panting by the time he filled you up entirely.

He barely gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size before he started rocking in and out of you. You felt all of him, each vein, each stroke brought you to tears with how good he felt.

“So fucking tight…” he whispered against your cheek, more so to himself. “You’re gonna let me have this tight pussy, huh? Just like that. Hmm? You’re that much of a little slut you’re not even gonna put up a fight, huh?” He stroked your walls with his pulsating cock and you were moaning against his cheek in no time. He enjoyed every second of it.

Both his hands supported you up by grabbing you at the curve of your ass, holding you against him, as he sped up into you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and said, “I bet you did it on purpose too, huh? You dirty fucking whore.” He hissed in your ear, cock sliding in and out of you as he fucked you like an animal. His brain running on nothing but pure animalistic instincts. “I see the way you look at me, like a bitch in heat. You’ve probably been plotting this for weeks now. Months even.” Bucky accused. “You knew everyone else left for that mission this morning and I stayed back. Maybe you knew it was going to be just you and me in the tower, and it all worked in your favour, huh?” His grip was punishing. “You had me all to yourself. And you knew I’d come to help you. You knew locking the door from inside wasn’t gonna stop me.”

“No…” You tried to protest, tried to tell him his accusations were wrong. But you could barely talk. “Bucky…”

He didn’t give you the chance to form coherent sentences. He kept taunting you. “And here we are now, Doc. Here I am, at your fucking service. Your good little soldier doing his job. Fucking you like you wanted it.” He let out a cocky chuckle. “Am I doing a good job, Doc? Am I being a good little soldier, fucking you how you want me to? Hmm? Is this good enough for you? Is this what you always dreamt of?”

“Buck…” You gasped. “You know that’s not true.” You whined. “I would never… never do this on purpose…,” You gasped, “To you.”

“No?” He taunted. “But look how well you’re taking it. Look at you. Look at your body swallowing that cock each time like you’d been practising.” He whispered into your ear, his tone filled with lust and filth, “Did you practise, Doc? Did you fuck your biggest toy each night leading up to this in preparation, huh?”

You moaned out loud again, reciting his name religiously as he slammed into you relentlessly.

He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him.

You felt the pressure forming, fiery and pressing inside you. While it eased the pain, it also wanted out. It wanted to explode. You needed a release. “Please, Bucky. Please make me come…”

Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you closer and closer….

“So fucking good…” he mumbled softly against your skin while he fucked you like an animal; occasionally growling at how good you felt around him. “Better than I ever thought.”

Your throbbing clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you, and he soon quickened his pace – earning more moans from you.

“Look at what you did,” He growled in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the large wooden front door with each thrust. “Turned me into a fucking animal. All I can think about is making it good for you. All I want is to fill you up, and fucking breed you. Is that what you want? Want my babies inside you?” He rambled, also getting closer. “I’ll give it all to you, you know that? Not even worried about it, you’ll be a great mommy, won’t you? Won’t you, baby?”

Your body moved along with his, his cock sliding in and out of you like you were just a toy. And you never complained once. You barely listened to what he was saying, all you did was nod and agree with his ramblings. Thinking he didn’t mean them. It was the drugs talking, you reminded yourself with whatever sanity you had left.

You could hear the wet sounds caused each time he pushed himself into you and the sounds of your skin slapping against each other. It was downright sinful.

He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. “Perfect fucking pussy, fuck, you feel like heaven,” He gasped, “Could fuck you all day and do nothing else. Right here in between your legs, huh? Is this where you want me all the time, Doc?” He hissed in pleasure, “Yeah? Does that feel good? Do I feel good inside you?”

“Yes,” Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly. “Fuck… yes, you feel so good.”

You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock, screaming his name out loud in the empty lab. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching down his neck.

“That’s it, baby. There we go, that feels good, huh?” His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls as he emptied inside you.

“Oh fuck….” You could feel his warmth filling you up. “That feels…”

“Come here.” He pulled out of you and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you towards your nearby desk, and pushed you on it, making you sit on the edge, legs dangling for a moment as he grabbed your face and gave you a punishing kiss. “Need more from you, you hear me? Be good and give it to me, okay?”

You were too far gone to even care what position he had you in, all you wanted was him. Inside you. All you cared about was how he’d make the pain go away. So when Bucky grabbed your legs and placed them on the edge of the desk, opening you up to him completely, you let him.

He placed his hands on your thighs and spread them further apart and took his time inspecting your wet folds. He mindlessly dragged a finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you, occasionally fingering his cum back into you.

“I wanna see what we taste like together.” He whispered, kneeling down.

His eyes trailed up to your tits, and his other hand reached up to pinch a nipple, making you yelp. He chuckled, “So pretty, and all mine to play with, yeah?” He whispered, getting down on his knees so his mouth was mere inches away from your clit. “Now, keep your legs spread for me. Just like this. Okay?”

You nodded, looking down in between your legs as he leaned in and pressed his ravenous mouth shamelessly to your wetness.

His tongue, his lips, the gentle suction of his warm mouth – it was all too much. He moved his head side to side, his coarse stubble brushing against your soft inner thighs. You whined and trembled, trying to keep your voice down as he made you lose your mind by eating you out like a starved man.

Then he looked up, meeting your eyes as the lower half of his face was completely submerged into your wet cunt. And that did it. You came with a yelp and a moan, riding his face and tugging on his hair.

He got up quickly and grabbed your face, breathing heavily with wetness all over his lips, “You wanna taste us together? Yeah? Wanna see how good we are?”

You nodded, delirious. And he leaned in to kiss you again. A messy, warm, filthy kiss. Bucky only pulled away when you were breathless and begging him to stop. He was panting by the time he was done abusing your mouth.

Then he looked down at your cunt, seeing the way wetness kept oozing out your hole.

“Look at that,” He looked down in between your spread, trembling legs and pointed at the little puddle of wetness you’d left there on top of the desk. “You made a mess, baby. Better clean it up.”

He pulled you off the desk and bent you over, pushing your face down, right into the little puddle you’d created there when you came for him.

“I said clean it!” He hissed, sliding his cock back inside you from behind. “Let me see that tongue licking all that up.” He growled, “Yes, that’s it. Lick it clean, baby, come on.” He pressed down on the back of your neck, refusing to let go. “Did you get it all cleaned up? Huh? Give me a taste of that then, come here,” He pulled you up, manhandling you however he wanted. He grabbed your face and turned it to the side to kiss your open, wet, and warm mouth. You were panting by now. He didn’t care, he took whatever he wanted. Shoving his tongue into your mouth and sucking your taste, stealing it.

He pulled away and that wild look in his eyes made you throb. “So fucking good…” Then he spat in your mouth and pushed you back down, bending you over your desk again and went back to fucking you from behind, keeping a tight grip on the back of your neck.

You whimpered as his pelvic bone smacked against your ass each time he thrust into you.

“Look at that body,” He mumbled. “Look at how perfect you are.” He teased, “Who knew our resident, nerdy little scientist would be such a filthy little slut for me, huh?” He slowed down, grabbing your neck and pulling you back into his chest, getting closer to your ear as he said, “Is that what you are now, Doc? Are you my little slut? Tell me. Tell me you’re my little slut and I can breed you whenever I want to. Tell me I get to use you whenever I feel like it.” He hissed, “Fucking tell me.”

You whimpered, “Yes I am. I am your little slut, please just… you can do whatever you want, Bucky, just please make me come.”

Bucky chuckled, cocky now that he’d heard all that he wanted to hear. “Yes you are, baby. A perfect little slut for me. Just for me.”

Then he resumed fucking you like an animal. His moans and groans loud in your ear.

“You better come for me, slut.” He growled into your ear. “You hear me? Come on this cock, come on. I want it wet with your cum.”

His words made you delirious. Lust drunk even more than ever before. You moaned as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in between your hips.

“Oh…” You whined, “Bucky, I’m gonna come.” You cried, and you were pretty sure you had warm tears streaming down your face.

“Come on, baby. Come on. Let me fill you up again, huh? You’re gonna just be a good girl and take it, huh? You’ll just be nothing but a cum dump for me, that’s it, angel. Milk that fucking cock, it’s all yours baby… all yours.”

You couldn’t hold it any longer. And you came all over his cock, crying with hot tears down your face.

“Yes… look at you.” He cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire. “You come so good for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered even more. He felt agonisingly good, even though you were so sensitive that each stroke had you whimpering and trembling.

Bucky came right after you, grunting and sighing in pleasure. His warm load shooting inside you as your body shook against the desk.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so full of my cum.” He pulled out and pushed back into you, a shallow thrust, as if to test something out. “There, I can feel it all inside you.”

Your mind was a foggy mess. The lab was clearer now though, no more smoke poisoning your brains. But there was enough in both your systems that Bucky only had to wait another minute, before he was ready to go again.

Turning you around and stepping in between your legs and slid back into you again. “It’s getting better, huh? The pain? Are you okay, baby?”

You just nodded and let him take over.

A few slow strokes, then the animal in him took the reins again. Bucky fucked hard and fast into you, his teeth bruising your lips. His mouth swallowing your moans, as he whispered against your open mouth, “It’s all yours, all fucking yours. This is what you wanted, huh? This cock is all you wanted? Should’ve just asked, baby. You didn’t have to do all this. Should’ve just looked up at me with those pretty eyes, gave me one of those please fuck me looks and i would’ve done it.” He chuckled, ending with a loud moan. “Fuck, I would’ve done it. I would’ve taken care of you so fucking good…”

“Please,” You begged, “Please, Bucky, can you–,” A loud moan escaping your mouth cut you off.

“What?” He hissed.

“I want to taste you, please come in my mouth.” You asked, your brain barely registering what you were asking for.

He chuckled, “No, no, no. I can't waste all this.” He reasoned. “This goes in you, right? That’s why you did all of this? To be pumped full of my cum, right? So no, baby. Can’t waste it all by shoving all this down your throat instead of in your womb.” He teased, “Sorry, but not this time.”

Moments later, you were coming undone loudly while Bucky was spilling inside you, some of it oozing out all around his cock, which was still snug inside you. “There,” He gathered some on his finger tips, chuckling, “I guess you can have some of it.” He shoved his fingers into your mouth, which you greedily sucked on like it was fucking ambrosia. Bucky hissed, “Yeah, you like that? The taste of me?”

You nodded, his fingers still deep into your mouth.

“You want more?” He asked.

You nodded again.

“Let’s go then. I need a bed to properly break you in.”

—

Hours later, finally satiated, Bucky decided you two could stop now. That agonising hunger subsided.

He was spent. As were you. And he had barely any energy left. But he made an effort, hissing as he got up and out of bed, feeling all his muscles screaming after hours of non-stop fucking. He stood there, stretching his limbs a little as he looked over at you.

You were buried under his blankets and pillows, only your pretty face was visible. And your eyes were shutting more and more. Bucky leaned over and caressed your face, waking you up gently. “Hey, baby. Wake up.” He whispered gently. “I need you to drink something, okay? Don’t fall asleep just yet.”

You whined, “Just wanna sleep.” You mumbled.

“I know, I know.” Bucky walked over to his mini fridge and got some sugary drinks out. “But you need to drink this, okay.” He walked back to bed and forced you up, pulling you onto his lap so he could better observe whether you were drinking all of it or not. “Come on, have some more. You need it, angel, please.” He reasoned, kissing your shoulder, and rubbing your thighs.

You finished your drink, and leaned back against Bucky, thankful for his warm chest and his strong arms holding you up.

“I got you, angel, I got you,” He murmured, his hands rubbing all over you. He didn’t care that he was smearing his own cum all over your thighs and abdomen, it felt weirdly good. Like he was marking you. “I’m sorry I got so rough earlier,” He apologised, kissing your shoulder. “You just felt so good, I wanted your body to bend and break for me.” He kissed your tired body wherever he could, “Am I forgiven?” He kissed your neck until it tickled, “Hmm? Do you forgive me for being rough earlier?”

He earned a sleepy drowsy giggle. “Yes, Buck.” You answered, letting him tuck you back in bed. “Need to shower,” You mumbled.

Bucky answered, saying, “Later, baby.” And he kept kissing you, murmuring praises and post-sex rambles into your ear. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He spooned you from behind, not minding the sticky, sweaty mess you both were. “My perfect girl…”

You were too close to falling asleep to note the change in his tone. The slight darkness lacing his words. Still.

Bucky pressed his body to yours, caging you in his arms. Then noticed the way you backed up into him, purposely because you did it twice.

“Again?” He asked you, chuckling when you nodded at his question, your butt pressing into his crotch as you drifted off… barely conscious and letting out the tiniest, softest moans as he slid his cock back inside you. Hard already. With ease. Fucking you slowly and enjoying the feeling of your wet warmth wrapped around him.

He knew your body by heart now, so even in the dark he let his hands roam all over you. Touching you exactly where you needed to be touched.

You let out a sleepy whimper, “Mhmm,” And mumbled some nonsense, “...feels so good.” You let out a sigh. “Gonna need you all the time now.”

“I know, baby.” Bucky murmured, already spilling inside you. Filling you up with his cum again. “I know it feels good.” He tightened his arms around you, left his cock snug inside you and pulled you closer to him, whispering against the back of your neck, “And we would’ve never known how good it can be if I hadn’t intervened to speed things up, now would we?”

How long had he yearned for this? For you? Months maybe. But you were always so cautious, always so proper. Always so distant and with frozen, icy walls around your heart. Bucky could never get in. But he wanted you. Oh, how he wanted you since the day he first saw you.

Gods… it was so easy to sneak those files into your computer. And he knew you were so curious by nature that you wouldn’t have been able to resist looking into them. And once you looked, you wouldn’t be able to resist trying to recreate something so forbidden.

All he had to do was let you believe that he’d left that morning with the team as well. But he never did. He planned things too well. Stalled just enough so that right as they were about to take off, Bucky was able to pull back. Showing everyone that the system had alerted him that there was something going on in the lab. The team agreed that Bucky would stay behind and deal with that while they went away and carried on with the mission.

So then, just as he had planned, you two were all alone in the tower and he was at the lab at the right time. Barging in to get you out, like a hero. And accidentally inhaled all that vapour that drove him wild…

And here he was now. His plan was well executed.

Bucky playfully bit your skin, tasting you like you were there just for that. “You played your part well, baby. Thank you for that.” He smiled upon hearing another one of those sleepy moans escaping your mouth. “And now you’re all mine.” He whispered into your ear.

—

a/n: what? I was horny okay…

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tripletstephaniescp · 4 days ago

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This was hilarious. And sadly something i did once. Didn't end as well. 😊

Hidden Affections

AN: Thanks for the prompt, @buckyys-babydoll. I hope you enjoy this bit of fluff with a big dollop of embarrassment and mutual pining.

Not beta’d, so apologies in advance.

Header by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Summary: You get tongue-tied around Bucky, which is inconvenient when you work with Sam and Joaquín. When he comes to the compound unannounced when you’re the only one there, you only have once course of action available — hide!

Relationship: Bucky x Reader (gender not specified but Sam calls you Sugar and Bucky calls you Doll and doll-face)

Word count: 1.6k

CW: Mild angst, fluff, unrequited crush (or is it?), embarrassment.

You didn’t know what it was about Bucky Barnes that upset your equilibrium so much. Okay, scratch that, you did know. It was because he was so freaking hot, that’s what! But you were frustrated that it — he — affected you so much. You worked with Sam and Joaquín regularly and they were both very attractive men and yet you managed to keep your cool around them. So what was it about him?

When he’d come to compound on previous occasions, to share intel or just hang out, you’d found yourself acting distracted and clumsy. Your usual verbosity disappeared to be replaced with one word answers that you had to stammer out. You’d decided a few weeks back that the best thing to do when Bucky appeared was to politely excuse yourself, taking your folders and binders and maps with you to a room far, far away from the supersoldier and his piercing blue eyes. It didn’t seem to stop him from finding you, though. Every time he visited he sought you out, even if just to say good-bye before he left to do whatever it was he did now. Each and every conversation was excruciating, leaving you to wish that the ground had opened up and swallowed you.

You couldn’t even figure out why he was coming to find you. You were no-one. He had no connection to you — didn’t know you from before and didn’t work with you now. You were Sam and Joaquín’s ground support, here to help analyse intel and look for any patterns of incidents. You weren’t anybody special.

Also, just to add to your confusion and embarrassment, Joaquín, the absolute turd of a surrogate brother he was, had picked up on your discomfort and taken to teasing you about it whenever he could. Luckily both he and Sam were currently absent from the building, twirling around in the sky overhead, getting in some flight practice. It meant you could get on with you analysis in peace.

Until the entrance sensor pinged.

Your eyes flicked up to the security video screen to see who’d crossed the boundary of the compound’s land. There were no visitors expected today, but you weren’t worried though — Sam would have received the alert as well, and the fact that he wasn’t immediately on comms with you meant whoever it was probably wasn’t hostile.

The screen showed a large motorcycle heading down the drive and you immediately froze.

Bucky.

Bucky was about to arrive and the others were out and it was just you here and…

You tapped a button on the console in front of you to open the comms up.

“Uh Sam, were you expecting Sergeant Barnes, because he’s on his way in?”

“Hey, Sugar. He said he might stop by. Told him me and Joaquín would be training, but he said he’d just hang out with you and wait for us.”

You gulped. You and Bucky. Sitting here together. Talking.

No, no, no, no, no…

“Umm. Okay, Sam. Thanks. Uh. See you two in a bit, I guess.”

Disconnecting the comms, you dropped your head into your hands with a groan. What were you going to do? You were a professional, grown-up, but just being in his presence turned you into a tongue-tied teenager.

Another chime from the security monitor let you know that Bucky had now entered the building and would be in the same room as you in the next couple of minutes. A wave of panic washed over you, and you stood up sharply, your chair shooting backwards as you flapped your hands.

What to do? What to do?

With a manic gaze you looked all around the room for something – anything – that would help you escape this nightmare.

There! In the corner! The cupboard. Maybe if you hid in there Bucky would think you weren’t in the building and he’d leave?

You hurried over and pulled the door open. For a moment you froze – you’d forgotten that Sam had stashed his old, broken suits in here – but you could hear Bucky’s footsteps and your brain had already committed to this plan of action, so you shoved your way between the hanging vibranium fabric suits and pulled the door as far closed as possible behind you.

In the dark of the cupboard, your breathing sounded loud in your ears and you forced yourself to slow it down. You peered with one eye through the gap in the door and had to clap your hands over your mouth as Bucky walked in.

Fuck! He was beautiful. His jaw length hair wafted around his face and his t-shirt and jeans looked painted on. You swore you could see every individual ab on his stomach.

You watched as he looked around the room, seemingly perplexed. He strode over to your workstation and poked at your abandoned papers, before turning to look at your equally abandoned chair. He walked around it, staring at it, as though by doing so it might give up the secret of your whereabouts. Then his eyes flicked up and you swore they were momentarily locked with yours through the tiny slit in the cupboard door.

Swallowing down a squeak, you tried to push backwards into the musty and metallic smelling fabric. However, as you did so, your heel caught on something lying on the floor, probably one of Sam’s old boots and you staggered. Your hands shot out as you instinctively tried to break your fall and you grabbed at the suits, but they fell off the hangers. With an inelegant screech you fell over and the suits tumbled down on top of you.

A few seconds later, the world around you brightened, not that you could see much, what with a red white and blue suit covering your head.

“Hey, Doll. You alright there?” Bucky sounded a little amused and you were glad he couldn’t see your face.

“Yeah, I’m… uhh… just sorting out some old bits and pieces. I’m good. Really,” was your muffled reply, but internally you were shrieking to yourself. What were you saying? Really? You were trying to convince him that this was purposeful? He might technically be 108 years old, but he wasn’t stupid.

You blinked rapidly as your vibranium fabric shroud was removed from your head, and as your eyes adjusted you saw Bucky crouched in the cupboard doorway, a soft smirk on his face.

“You sure you’re not stuck in there?”

You felt the heat of embarrassment wash up your neck and you realised there really was no way of getting out of this with your dignity intact, what little there was left anyway.

“Okay, maybe I could use a little help.”

“Just a little,” Bucky repeated, holding his left hand up with the thumb and index finger a scant centimetre apart. “Come on, let’s get you outta here.” He reached out and you clasped his hand, realising this was the first time you’d ever touched each other. A quick, controlled tug and you were back on your feet and your free hand landed on his chest as you regained your balance.

“Umm, thanks,” you whispered and took a step back. However, Bucky didn’t let go of your hand and you jerked to a stop. You looked down to where he still held you and couldn’t believe that he was rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin. “Is, uh, there anything else I can help you with? Sam and Joaquín should be back soon. I could, umm, get you a cup of coffee or something?”

“Coffee would be great, Doll, but only if we go get some together.”

Your head snapped up. “What? I mean, pardon?”

Bucky grinned at you. “Come get a coffee with me. I mean, I could be wrong, but I think you might like me as much as I like you.”

“You like me?” Your voice rose in pitch with surprise.

“Uh, yeah. Quite a lot, actually,” and you saw a blush creep across his cheeks as he broke eye contact to look down at where your hands were still joined. “I thought I was making it obvious enough by always coming to find you each time I visited, but some winged ego-maniac told me that maybe I was being too subtle. And then a smaller, but similarly annoying baby-bird may have let it slip that I probably wouldn’t be turned down.”

The gears in your head started turning. “Did Sam tell you to come here today?”

Bucky looked at you from under his sinful, dark lashes. “Yeah. He said he has some things – intel – he needed to go through with me. Get my opinion.”

“Sonofa…” you muttered. “He and his boy- wonder are out flying circuits of the state, and not due back for a while. I think we’ve been set up.”

Bucky nodded at your words. “Well that explains some things. However, it doesn’t explain to me why you were hiding in the cupboard. Care to elaborate, doll-face?”

“Absolutely not. I plead the fifth.”

Bucky’s lips – those plush kissable lips – twisted in wry amusement and his eyes sparkled. “Hmm, can’t have you incriminating yourself, so I’ll let it go. This time. And only if you come for a coffee with me.”

“Are you always this pushy, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Only when I see something I want, and know that it’s mutual.” He stopped for a moment, his expression changing to one of curiosity. “It is mutual, isn’t it? Joaquín wasn’t yanking my chain?”

“You think I hide from just anybody?” You said with a chuckle. “Come on, Sergeant. You said something about coffee?”

“I did, didn’t I? Oh, and Doll..”

“Yes?”

“Call me Bucky.”

Tag list: @km-ffluv @wheezy-stucky @kmc1989 @kombatfather1796

@christywrites @alexakeyloveloki @wolfsmom1 @doasyoudesireandlive

@sonatabee-blog @goldylions @galactusdevourerofworlds @apenny4thots

@crayongirl-linz @nicoline1998enilocin @king814318 @blackhawkfanatic

@strawberrylore @scram1326 @hhiggs @peaches1958

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tripletstephaniescp · 6 days ago

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They are hilarious.

Would you rather be constantly itchy when you're wearing clothes or be constantly itchy when you're naked?

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tripletstephaniescp · 6 days ago

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He is so GD beautiful!

Bucky Barnes

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tripletstephaniescp · 6 days ago

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Ditto!

need a man so muscular he struggles to get his jacket AWF

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tripletstephaniescp · 9 days ago

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Now that's a movie night I would like to attend. Hehe

what good girls get after movie night

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

summary: movie night in avengers tower gets interesting when you and bucky barnes test the limits of your secret relationship.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), thunderbolts* spoilers, smut, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, edging/orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, come eating, semi-public fooling around (under a blanket during movie night), 'need to be quiet so we don't get caught' trope, sneaking around/secret relationship, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, teasing, biting, pet names (sweetheart, baby), established relationship, both bucky and reader are members of the new avengers—let me know if i missed something!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: here's my first ever entry for @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer event!! idk yet how many weeks i'll be able to write for, but i'm gonna try to do a couple at least. and to start us off, we've got a very dirty Bucky Barnes and some New Avengers tower shenanigans 😅 hope y'all enjoy! ♡

prompt: “Mind your own damn business.” | [Secret Sex/Relationship | Embarrassment | Denial]

It was movie night in Avengers Tower—or rather, New Avengers Tower—and you plopped down in one of the end seats of the overstuffed couches in the lounge.

You always made sure to show up early so you didn’t end up crammed between John Walker and Ava Starr. Their bickering could ruin any movie.

Sure enough, the pair entered the lounge not long after you, arguing about who won some sparring match during their training that day, and whether it was cheating for Ava to use her powers. She was threatening to phase into his room and stab him while he slept as they took their seats on another couch.

You breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t sitting near you. The seat next to you was still open, and you had hopes for who would take it—though you tried not to look hopeful as the others filtered in.

Alexei Shostakov, Yelena Belova and Bob Reynolds entered the lounge a few minutes later. Yelena flopped down on the floor, while Bob sat on the couch closest to her, the two of them having a conversation that was much more civil than the continued bickering between John and Ava, which had devolved into threats of bodily harm.

Alexei went straight for the remote to the massive TV before settling into the lounge’s only recliner armchair. Everyone had long ago agreed that was always his spot because he fell asleep five minutes into the movie and snored like a fighter jet mid-battle.

Just before Alexei hit play on the movie, Bucky Barnes slipped into the lounge and took the empty seat next to you. Immediately, your heart began to beat a little faster, and you tried to hide your joy as you looked around at the others on the team.

You’d spent hours wondering whether everyone else knew you and Bucky were sneaking around together, trying to keep your relationship secret so it wouldn’t get back to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Neither you nor Bucky knew how Val would react, and you both figured it was easier not to find out.

That night, no one was paying you and Bucky any mind—Yelena was snapping at John to shut up while Alexei’s recliner creaked loudly as he settled into it. You figured they either hadn’t noticed how close Bucky was sitting to you, or they didn’t care.

Knowing The New Avengers as you did, you truly couldn’t determine which was more likely to be true.

Finally, the movie began. The sound was turned up to a nearly deafening level, and you let your worries about what the team did or didn’t know fall away.

A few minutes in, Bucky grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and he casually tossed it over the two of you. When you looked at him and caught his eye, the ghost of a smirk danced at the edge of his mouth, and you shot him the barest smile in return.

Glancing around the room, you made sure everyone was engrossed in the movie before curling into Bucky’s side. You threw your legs over his thigh while his metal arm wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you into his body.

Ducking your head, you hid a pleased smile as you got comfortable. Your body relaxed into Bucky, your fingers holding the blanket up to your chin so it covered as much of your entwined limbs as possible.

Snuggled up with your secret boyfriend, you settled in to watch the movie in peace. But Bucky had other ideas.

While everyone else was focused on the TV, Bucky shifted so he was curled more around you, his hand slipping onto your knee beneath the blanket.

Just that touch had tingles of warmth dancing up your thighs to settle heavily between your legs, your body already beginning to crave Bucky’s. But with the team littered throughout the room, you did your best to ignore your reaction to Bucky’s touch.

Then, oh so slowly, Bucky began to slide his hand up your thigh. His palm was blazingly hot through the thin cotton of your leggings, teasing you with his heat when you truly wanted him to be touching your bare skin.

The higher his hand got, the less you could ignore it. Especially when his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh, earning a choked whine from you.

“Bucky,” you gasped on the softest exhale you could manage, well aware that there were two other super-soldiers in the room. No matter how loud the TV was, there was always a chance someone would hear you, or—god forbid—sense you another way. “We can’t.”

Lifting your head, you looked around the lounge with quick, sharp eyes.

Thankfully, Alexei was already asleep, the loud rumbling of his snores drowning out the quieter moments of the movie. Bob looked totally engrossed in the TV and Yelena was playing with one of her knives while she kept an eye on Ava and John, who were bickering again, though about what you couldn’t tell.

“Shh, sweetheart, watch the movie,” Bucky murmured teasingly in your ear, clearly having done his own sweep of the room and noting that no one was paying any attention to the two of you.

Bucky took advantage of the team’s distraction to slide his hand even higher up your thigh, until his big palm was cupping your pussy through your leggings. It was all you could do to bite down on your plush lower lip and hold back the sharp gasp that wanted to escape. His hand was so big and it felt so good pressing between your thighs.

A smirk slashed across Bucky’s face, his hungry eyes watching your expression closely so he could devour each and every one of your reactions. He pressed his fingers into your throbbing slit, watching as your lips dropped open and your eyes went hazy from the pleasure pulsing in your pussy.

He kept rubbing your cunt, and you knew the moment he realized you weren’t wearing any panties under your leggings because a soft growl rumbled in his chest. You’d already soaked through your leggings, and you were certain his fingers were growing wetter and wetter with every swipe of your pussy.

“You’re such a little slut, baby,” Bucky purred, ducking his head so his mouth was right against your cheek. You could feel the rasp of his stubble against your skin, and you squirmed on his lap, trapping his hand between your thighs, which only made him chuckle. “You wanted this, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

His words were so condescending and filthy, they had your heart racing in your chest, battering against your ribs. Embarrassment heated your cheeks, but you didn’t protest Bucky’s accusation—because he was right. You had foregone wearing panties hoping it would give Bucky easier access to do exactly what he was doing.

“You wanted to fool around during movie night, didn’t you, baby?” Bucky murmured, his impish grin pressed into your cheek. “You wanted me to rub your bare pussy through your leggings while the rest of the team are right here.”

It was so dirty, what the two of you were doing, but you didn’t want to stop. So even though his last words weren’t a question, you nodded. You lifted your eyes and looked at Bucky from under your lashes, letting him see all the naked desire in your expression.

Bucky’s grin widened, turning wolfish and hungry as his eyes sparkled in the dim blue light of the TV. His hand rubbed your pussy harder, thumb pressing tight circles into your clit, dragging you tenaciously toward the edge of your release.

“They could catch us at any second,” he warned, his voice still low enough that only you could hear. “And then they’d know just what a filthy little slut you are for me, huh?”

“Bucky, please,” you rasped on a stifled sob, turning your head and burying your face in Bucky’s neck. Your shoulders trembled, fingers curling into fists as you clung to his t-shirt. The pleasure rolling through your body was made even more overwhelming by the need to keep quiet.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let them catch us,” Bucky rumbled soothingly, his hand between your thighs slowing to draw out your pleasure. “You just be a good little slut—stay quiet and let me play with your sweet, greedy cunt during the movie.”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered into Bucky’s neck, pressing a kiss to his skin as you spread your legs wider for him beneath the blanket.

“Good girl,” he cooed against your temple, making you quiver from the pleasure.

For a long while, Bucky rubbed your dripping cunt through your leggings, getting the fabric soaking wet while stoking your pleasure to a constant, burning heat. He was merciless, playing with your clit and your puffy pussy lips as if trying to get you to slip up and make a sound.

For your part, all you could do was try to be good. You muffled your moans in the warmth of Bucky’s neck, huffing out soft mewls and breathless whimpers that were drowned out by the movie playing on the TV and Alexei’s snores.

When you thought Bucky was going to edge you like that for the entire movie, he pulled his hand from between your thighs. Without warning, everything sharpened around you, your mind surfacing from the haze of constant pleasure.

Despite the reprieve from his torture, you nearly whined at the sudden loss of Bucky’s touch. Your fingers curled tighter in the soft cotton of his t-shirt and you were about to say something—but then he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and slid his big hand inside.

Bucky’s warm, calloused fingers pushed between the messy, swollen lips of your pussy, and the feeling was so good—so filthy and exquisite—that you were nearly helpless to it. At the last second, you ducked your head and sank your teeth into the hard muscle of his pecs to stifle the moan that demanded to spill free.

A grunt came from Bucky when you bit him, and you lifted your head in time to catch him glancing furtively around the room. When it was clear that everyone else was distracted by the movie or each other, you both breathed a sigh of relief.

Bucky’s fingers, which had stilled against your pussy, slipped deeper between your thighs. Two pushed into your hole, spearing you open and sinking inside you to the knuckle. They stretched you deliciously, stroking against your sensitive inner walls, and for a moment, you forgot yourself.

“Oh god, Bucky,” you breathed on a sigh of delight, pushing your face into his neck in a belated attempt to muffle your sounds of pleasure. He smelled like salt and leather and you wanted to lick him and moan with abandon.

“Shh, ya gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” Bucky chided you, his tone warm with affectionate teasing. “You don’t want anyone catching us, do you?”

Pleasure was throbbing through your body, so sharp and insistent, you could hardly bring yourself to care about getting caught anymore. You just wanted some relief—you wanted to come.

“Need you,” you whined as quietly as you could manage. “Please,” you begged pitifully, tugging weakly on Bucky’s shirt, as if that would sway him toward giving you what you wanted.

A reprimanding growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest and when he spoke, his mouth brushed against your ear, his words filling your head.

“If you can be a good girl and be quiet for the rest of the movie, I’ll take you back to my room and show you what good girls get,” he said, and then, as if deciding to make his point even clearer, he went on. “Good girls get to come on my big, fat cock while I spill my seed in their greedy, hungry cunt.”

His words were a lightning bolt straight to your pussy, and you nearly moaned again. You had to bite down on the base of Bucky’s throat to stifle the sound, and as soon as it passed, you pulled your mouth away to respond.

“I can be good—I can be good, I swear,” you promised in a rushed babble, a whine in your tone as you nodded your head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Good girl,” Bucky purred in your ear, his metal arm tightening around your shoulders and tucking you deeper into his chest. All the while, his fingers fucked your dripping hole slowly, torturously, ramping up your pleasure before easing you back down.

Bucky brought you to the edge three more times before the movie ended, rumbling in your ear to be a good girl and not come on his fingers so he could reward you later. It was a near thing each time, but you managed it, your body trembling more and more beneath the blanket concealing your bodies.

He’d let you wind down after each edge while he slipped his hand from your leggings and licked your desire from his fingers. His eyes would glimmer with barely leashed lust as he held your gaze, making you watch him taste you while you quivered in his arms. Then he’d start the process all over again.

By the time the movie was over, you were wound so tight, you knew you’d explode the second Bucky slid his cock into your aching, hungry cunt. And you couldn’t wait another minute for that release.

The second the credits began to roll, you yanked Bucky’s hand from your leggings, the super-soldier letting you free his fingers with a low chuckle. Then you tossed the blanket off your overheated bodies and hopped up, heading straight for the door with Bucky hot on your heels.

“Where are you two going?” John called as you tried to make a hasty escape, drawing all eyes to you and Bucky. “Don’t tell me you guys are tired already, we only watched one movie! Bucky might be ancient, but what’s your excuse, rookie?”

“Mind your own damn business, Walker,” you snarled, hurling the comment over your shoulder as you picked up your pace.

You didn’t care anymore if the team knew about you and Bucky and what you got up to when you were alone in the tower. All you could think about was the pounding pulse between your thighs and your need for release.

Looking over your shoulder, you caught Bucky’s eye, and he looked just as desperate and hungry as you felt. With a jolt of understanding, you realized he didn’t care if anyone else knew either, and the thought made you smile happily at him. His wolfish grin answered you and urged you on.

As the two of you retreated from the lounge, you heard John whining to the others, “What’d I say?” The last thing you heard was everyone else—save for Alexei, who was still asleep in his chair—laugh at him.

Once you were out of sight of the team, Bucky hauled you over his shoulder and took off. He jogged through the winding hallways of the tower until he got to his room. There, he pushed quickly through the door and locked it behind him, before tossing you down on the bed.

“Leggings off now, unless you want me to tear them off you,” Bucky growled, already yanking his clothes off.

You grinned at his impatience, as if he wasn’t the one who’d tortured you for the last two hours by edging you during movie night. But you decided to save your teasing for later, because you wanted him too badly to say anything. Instead, you just tore of your own clothes as quickly as you could.

Then Bucky was on you, his hips bullying between your legs, his cock smacking against your wet, needy pussy. Your thighs spread wide to welcome him into your body, your lips parting on an obscene moan when he crushed you into the bed with his heavy form.

In one thrust, he was inside you, and you let loose an uninhibited scream of pleasure that filled his room, bouncing off the walls and shattering the stillness of the night.

Just as you’d predicted, you came the moment Bucky slid home inside your pussy, your release helped along by the way he was grinding the base of his cock into your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing, pushing you over the edge with relentless efficiency.

And you were helpless to it. The pleasure coursing through you, crashing over you in blissful waves had you trembling and whimpering beneath him, riding out the overwhelming release with your thighs wrapped tight around his waist.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you’re coming like a perfect little slut on my cock,” Bucky praised you, brushing kisses to your cheeks before capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. “You were such a good girl, so quiet and perfect for me while I played with your pretty pussy.”

Bucky started rolling his hips, thrusting into you with deep strokes of his cock, filling you up over and over again. You could feel the twitching and throbbing of his hard length, but he didn’t let up, just set a brutal pace, pounding into your cunt. Before your release had even fully subsided, he was urging you toward another.

Gripping your jaw in one hand while he braced himself on his metal arm, Bucky held your face still, his eyes locked on yours. There was a promise of pleasure in his feral gaze, in the slash of a smirk on his face, and you couldn’t help the eager grin that pulled at your lips at his next words.

“Now it’s time for me to show you what good girls get after movie night.”

Bucky Barnes was a man of his word, and show you he did. He fucked you long and hard, making you come so many times you lost count, until the evidence of your pleasure was seen in the uncontrollable quivering of your exhausted thighs and the amount of come—both his and yours—making a mess as it spilled from your body.

Meanwhile, the rest of the New Avengers team gave Bucky’s room a wide berth for the night. They all had a good idea about what the two of you got up to when you slipped away from the others to be alone; they all knew about your “secret” relationship and your not-so-secret cuddling during movie night. (Thankfully, that was all they knew about.)

Well, everyone knew about you and Bucky Barnes except John Walker. But he was always the last to figure out anything.

All told, it was a pretty standard movie night in the New Avengers Tower.

thanks for reading!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated ♡

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tripletstephaniescp · 19 days ago

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I know, right?

You and your damn strut. You're gonna be the end of me, ya hear? You absolutely gorgeous menace! 🥵😌

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tripletstephaniescp · 22 days ago

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I love that we get the reader pov then the Thunderbolts pov

Weighted Blanket

Part of the Sleepy!reader collection

Bob Reynolds x gn!reader ft. The Thunderbolts* (as a bonus)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: Fluff, cuddling, it can be platonic or romantic :)

Summary: You offer to share your blanket with Bob.

Word count: 816 words

A/N: This was a quick little drabble since one of the other fics I was meant to keep under 1k quickly became about 3. Oopsies.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Bob Reynolds Masterlist | Sleepy!reader Collection | Main Masterlist

You were as snug as a bug in a rug. An apt description for you being stuck under your horrendously large weighted blanket.

Most of the team were away which meant the tower was quiet and the TV in the main room was free. You'd put on an old favourite of yours and piled in snacks, not that you could reach them under the weight of the blanket, but you had at least two days of making the most of being a couch potato.

You weren't even ten minutes into your movie when your eyes started fluttering, the crushing comfort of the blanket forcing your body to remain relaxed. You're about to allow sleep to take you when you're startled by a sound behind you.

"This movie's pretty good."

You turn your head to see Bob standing near the kitchenette with an empty glass. His voice wobbles slightly, and it's clear he's upset about something. Your heart breaks. You feel a little guilty for forgetting he hadn't gone on this mission with the rest of the gang but you decide you can make it up to him.

"Wanna watch it with me?" You ask with a smile. "I've got snacks and my blanket that we can share."

Bob looks torn, eye flitting back in the direction of his room and then to you, swaying on the spot. For a moment you think he'll turn you down, however, he nods and makes his way towards the sofa.

You heave your blanket off to make space and once he's comfortably sat you drape it as gracefully as you can over him.

"Oof." Bob winces slightly as the heaviness hit him.

"Sorry." You apologise sheepishly. "Weighted blanket. I can get you another one?"

"No it's alright." Bob nods, sipping from his water and stretching his legs out onto the coffee table. "It's nice."

Twenty minutes after the addition of Bob on the couch, your eyes have closed and, unbeknownst to you, you're now bundled against him.

Bob felt a rush of happiness when your sleepy body had angled into him but he had to admit that the blanket was working it's magic on him too and fighting off sleep was becoming harder and harder.

Bob's head lolled lazily and he rested his cheek on your head. Your shampoo smelled like lavender which didn't help his sleepy state and he ran his fingers over the soft skin of your shoulder for a few minutes until his hand dropped back against the couch and he fell asleep.

Bob woke up first and felt refreshed, anxieties from the night before dwindled to manageable embers, made better by the fact that you were still curled against him (if not a little closer than last night).

When you woke up, since Bob decided he wouldn't wake you and let you sleep, you'd apologised for falling asleep so quickly the night before and hurriedly brushed away any remnants of drool from his shirt.

"I didn't last long either." Bob admits with pink cheeks. "I'd like to do it again sometime. I don't think I've ever slept so good."

"Me neither." You confess, sitting up slightly. "How's about we have a movie day? I don't have any errands to run but I can grab us breakfast and we could try to watch the movie this time?"

Bob grins at you, his heart doing backflips. "Sounds good. I'll get the coffee."

End

Bonus:

The Thunderbolts were never usually finished up missions early. Apparently, this one was the exception to the rule and when they entered to the main room and found you and Bob curled up on the giant sofa under your blanket with the TV lights flickering after a day of movies, they just about lost their minds.

"Aww," Alexei said tearfully, heart ready to burst. Yelena and Ava were busy trying to hold together fits of cuteness-aggression at the sight while Bucky and Walker sighed with attempted nonchalance.

Yelena silently crept over to take a space beside Bob, shushing Walker when he asked what she was doing. Ava went next, teleporting onto your side.

Then men left all shared a look. Alexei beamed as he dashed beside Yelena, picking up an extra blanket and almost tripping over the coffee table, and Bucky with a sigh (and a slight smile) joined the end, leaving Walker space to join Ava on the other side of the couch.

You stirred first, blinking up and seeing Ava's face next to yours.

"You're back?"

"We all are." John's voice echoes behind her and you crane your neck to the other side of the couch where Yelena, Alexei and Bucky's faces come into view all smiling. You try not to snort and wake Bob as you lean back into him.

"Sleepy heads." Yelena sighs happily, picking up the TV remote and flicking through the movie selection. "Now, what movie to watch..."

A/N: I missed the first round of avengers tower fics... I'm not missing these.

Taglist - add yourself here

@looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958

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tripletstephaniescp · 22 days ago

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Yes!!!!!

Are you mine? Part 2

Warning- Angst, little fluff, blood, bruises, protective brother Logan.

Something was wrong.

Steve felt it first, the emptiness, the eerie quiet that settled over the compound like a storm waiting to break. He had gone looking for you that morning, expecting to find you in the kitchen or the training room, but there was nothing.

Then Bucky felt it too.

The bed was cold. Your scent was fading. Your usual presence, a force of nature they had come to rely on was simply… gone.

At first, they thought you were just upset.

That you were cooling off, still angry over the canceled dates and forgotten promises.

But as the hours passed and you remained missing, a sickening realization took root.

You weren’t just avoiding them.

You were gone.

“Where the hell is she?!” Bucky’s voice echoed through the hallways as he and Steve stormed through the compound, checking every possible place you could have been.

“Maybe she went for a run?” Steve muttered, though doubt laced his words.

But you always came back.

And you never left without telling them.

Something wasn’t right.

“Doll!” Steve called again, desperation creeping into his voice.

Nothing.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his heart pounding. He turned the corner and immediately groaned when he spotted her.

Cassidy, sitting on the common room couch, scrolling through her phone like she had all the time in the world.

“Where is she?” Bucky snapped, making her jolt.

Cassidy blinked up at him. “What?”

“Y/n” Steve said, voice tight. “Have you seen her?”

She rolled her eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “She’s probably sulking somewhere. You know how dramatic she can be…”

Bucky saw red, “Shut up.”

Cassidy flinched, her eyes widening as Bucky glared at her with all the rage burning inside of him, “Get out,” he growled.

“Bucky…”

“I said GET OUT!”

Cassidy paled, scrambling to her feet before practically running out of the room.

Steve barely paid her any attention. His mind was already racing, his chest tightening, “We need to find Natasha.”

Natasha was waiting for them.

She didn’t stand. Didn’t speak. Just sat on the couch, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap, like she had all the time in the world.

When they entered the room, the silence was suffocating.

Steve cleared his throat, “Tasha…”

“You finally noticed.” she said, voice low. Steady. Her eyes didn’t even move to meet his.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “Where is she?”

Natasha lifted her gaze slowly, like it physically pained her to look at them. “Gone.”

Steve’s heart dropped. “Gone?” he echoed.

“She left. What else did you expect?”

The silence stretched for too long.

Steve took a step forward. “We didn’t know…”

“You didn’t care!” she interrupted, voice still calm. Too calm. “There’s a difference.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but Natasha stood, smooth, slow, deliberate. The look in her eyes was lethal.

“You don’t get to speak,” she said, each word precise, like a scalpel carving into flesh. “Neither of you do.”

Bucky shuts his mouth and Steve’s fists clenched, knuckles white. “Natasha, please…”

She walked closer, tilting her head. “Please? You’re asking me for grace? After what you did to her?”

Her lips curled into a bitter, humorless smile. “You let some trainee worm her way into your lives. You sat there, smiling, laughing, letting her take Sweets place. Her spot on the couch. Her seat at the table. Her space between you!”

Steve flinched.

“She didn’t even scream!” Natasha said, her voice quieter now, somehow colder. “Did you notice that? She cried silently. She didn’t beg. She just walked away. That’s how much damage you did.”

Bucky looked like he was going to be sick.

“You let her become invisible,” Natasha whispered. “She trusted you. Completely. And you crushed her. Slowly. Carefully. Like it was nothing.”

“She never told us,” Steve said, voice breaking. “She didn’t…”

“She shouldn’t have had to!” Natasha snapped, but even then, her tone barely rose. “You’re not children. You’re not stupid. You knew what she meant to you and you still let someone else reach for what was hers, without even blinking.”

She stepped back, shaking her head slightly.

“God, every look. Every time I stood between you and that bitch. But you brushed it off. You thought Sweets would just… wait around. Watch herself be replaced. And still stay.”

She scoffed. “That’s not love. That’s possession.”

Steve’s breath hitched.

Natasha met Bucky’s eyes then, and it was the final blow.

“You made her feel like a guest in her own home.” Natasha snapped. “You don’t get to ask questions. You don’t get to act shocked. You don’t get to pretend like you didn’t do this.”

Bucky flinched at the venom in her voice. “Nat…”

“Shut up and listen.”

They did, because for the first time in a long time, maybe ever Natasha was furious at them.

And she had every right to be.

“You trusted Cassidy,” she spat. “You let her get close. You let her take over. And you let Sweets, suffer in silence while you two stood there, completely oblivious.”

Bucky swallowed hard, guilt clawing at his insides. “We didn’t mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Natasha demanded. “Didn’t mean to leave her alone? Didn’t mean to ignore her? Didn’t mean to let some girl take her place like she was nothing?”

Neither of them had an answer.

Because there wasn’t one.

“She trusted you,” Natasha continued, voice cold. “Blindly. Completely. And you broke that trust, piece by piece, every time you let Cassidy sink her claws in deeper. Every time you canceled a date. Every time you let her take Sweets’ spot without a second thought. You let her feel like an outsider in her own home. In her own relationship.”

Steve felt sick, Bucky’s fists clenched. They had done that, they had let that happen.

“Where is she now?” Bucky asked, voice rough.

Natasha’s gaze darkened. “With Logan.”

Bucky stiffened. “Logan?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said. “You know, her brother? The one who actually gives a damn? The one who saw what you couldn’t?”

Steve inhaled sharply, guilt coiling around his heart.

“He just took her?” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

Natasha scoffed. “Logan is her brother and has every right. More than you do right now.”

Neither of them could argue, because she was right. They had messed up and now, you were gone.

The common room was eerily quiet.

Steve sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Bucky stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out at the city, jaw clenched.

Neither of them spoke.

Because what was there to say? They had fucked up, and they knew it.

At first, when Cassidy arrived, they had thought nothing of it. She was a trainee, young and eager to learn. Or so they had believed. But she hadn’t been interested in training. No she had been interested in them.

And instead of noticing it, instead of seeing what was right in front of them, they had let it happen.

They had let her sit beside them, let her take up space that wasn’t hers. Space that had always belonged to you.

They could still see it so clearly now, the way you had lingered in the doorway, eyes flickering to where she sat too close, where her hands brushed against theirs. The way your expression would shift, just for a moment, before you schooled it into something neutral.

The way Natasha had given them warning looks, subtle but sharp. But they hadn’t listened, hadn’t thought.

Hadn’t realized that every moment they spent with Cassidy, every smile, every conversation, every second of attention, was another crack in the foundation of what they had with you.

Another reason for you to pull away.

And then, the dates started getting canceled. Not because they meant to, at least, that’s what they had told themselves.

There was always a reason.

Something came up. A mission. A meeting. Or sometimes, they had just… forgotten.

Because they were too busy.

Too distracted.

Too stupid.

And every time they promised to make it up to you, your smiles became smaller, your words became quieter.

And still, they hadn’t seen it.

Hadn’t seen how Cassidy was everywhere, how she was taking your place, how she had stolen what was yours, and they had just let her.

Until that night.

The movie night, the one they had planned, thinking it would fix things. They had been so damn proud of themselves, thinking they were doing something right, only for you to walk in and freeze. And that’s when they had realized. Because Cassidy had been between them.

In your spot.

In your place.

They had tried to explain, had told you she hadn’t known it was just for you, that they hadn’t wanted to be rude. But you had just looked at them with those broken eyes, nodded once, and walked away.

No fight.

No anger.

Just defeat.

“Fuck.” Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “How the hell did we let this happen?”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight. “We weren’t paying attention.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No shit.”

Steve closed his eyes. “She trusted us.” His voice was quiet. Pained. “Completely. And we let her down.”

Bucky turned, his expression haunted. “She left, Steve. She left us.”

Steve’s stomach twisted, because it was true. You hadn’t fought. Hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t told them you were leaving.

You had just… walked away, because you had given up on them.

And that? That was the part that hurt the most.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath, dropping onto the couch beside Steve, his hands clasped together, his metal fingers tightening around his flesh ones.

“We have to fix this.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know if we can.”

Bucky didn’t answer.

Because neither of them knew the truth. Because neither of them knew if you would even want to come back. Because for the first time since they had met you.

You had chosen a world without them in it and they had no one to blame but themselves.

The drive to Logan’s cabin was long.

Too long.

With every mile, the silence between Steve and Bucky thickened, the guilt like a noose tightening around their throats.

But it didn’t prepare them for what waited at the end of the road.

Logan was already outside.

Standing on the porch like a statue carved out of rage, arms crossed over his chest, claws SNIKT out before their car even rolled to a stop.

The moment their boots hit the dirt, he moved.

“You’ve got five seconds to get off my land.”

Bucky raised both hands slowly. “Logan, we just want to…”

“You want to what?” Logan snarled, voice raw with fury. “Say you’re sorry? Offer some half-assed apology after breaking her like that?”

Steve stepped forward, jaw tight. “We need to see her.”

Logan’s eyes gleamed, feral. “Over my dead body.”

Then he charged. No warning. No hesitation.

His claws slashed through the air too fast.

Steve ducked, barely dodging the first blow, but Bucky wasn’t so lucky. Metal met flesh. He grunted, stumbling back as three deep gashes bloomed across his bicep, blood soaking through his shirt.

“Logan!” Steve shouted, trying to block the next strike but it was already too late.

Logan was a storm. Unstoppable. Every move was brutal, efficient. He wasn’t fighting to scare them. He was fighting to punish them.

Steve’s ribs cracked under a punch, and Bucky barely managed to parry with his metal arm as claws scraped down his side.

“You think she cried?” Logan hissed, claws flashing. “You think she screamed?”

He pinned Bucky against a tree, claws digging into his shoulder. “She didn’t make a sound. You ripped her soul out and she didn’t make a damn sound!”

Steve tackled him from behind, and they rolled in the dirt, a blur of fists and claws and snarls.

“She’s my sister!” Logan roared, eyes wild. “You don’t get to break her and walk in here like it didn’t happen!”

“We didn’t come to pretend!” Steve shouted, panting. “We came because we love her. Because we’re not giving up.”

Logan punched his face harder, claws dripping with blood. “Love? Don’t talk to me about love. You had it. You had her. And you destroyed her.”

“We know!” Bucky yelled, wiping blood from his mouth. “We know, Logan!”

Logan’s claws whipped through the air, stopping just inches from Steve’s chest.

“You know?” Logan’s voice was low, deadly. “Know you ignore her? Know you push her aside for some other woman? Know you made her feel like she was nothing?”

For a moment, the woods fell silent.

Only their ragged breathing and the hum of tension filled the space.

Steve stepped forward, chest heaving. “We don’t deserve it. We don’t deserve her. But we’re here because we want to earn back what we broke. Whatever it takes.”

Logan stared them down, breathing hard, blood dripping from the tips of his claws. Then slowly, deliberately, he retracted them. “You want to see her?” he asked coldly.

Bucky nodded, limping toward him. “Please.”

His glare darkened. “I should gut you both right now.”

Steve’s heart pounded, but he didn’t back down. “We came to fix this.”

“You think you can just fix what you broke?” Logan snapped. “Do you have any idea what you did to her?” His fists clenched, his claws trembling. “She was done, Rogers. She wasn’t even mad, she was gone. You took the light out of her eyes.”

Bucky flinched. “We know…”

Logan scoffed. “No, you don’t. But you’re about to.” Logan narrowed his eyes. “Here’s how it’s gonna go,” he said, voice like ice. “You don’t talk to her unless she speaks first. You don’t touch her. You don’t even sit within reach unless she lets you.”

He stepped closer, eye-to-eye with Steve now.

“And if either of you so much as make her flinch…” His claws clicked out again, glinting in the low light. “I will rip you open from neck to navel, Super Serum or not.”

Steve swallowed, his voice steady. “Deal.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate, he accepted, “Understood.”

Logan held their gaze for a long, brutal moment, then he turned toward the cabin. “Follow me,” he growled. “But don’t forget for one second, you’re only breathing because she hasn’t said otherwise.”

Logan finally turned his back on them, but not before one last glare that promised violence was only on pause, not over.

Steve exhaled shakily and staggered, one hand pressed against his ribs where the fabric of his shirt was slashed open. Blood seeped through his fingers. His face was a mess, his left eye swollen nearly shut, a deep purple bruise blooming from temple to cheekbone. A ragged claw mark carved across his side, oozing with every breath.

Bucky wasn’t any better. He leaned against a tree, panting, blood streaking down his metal arm and soaking into the waistband of his jeans. Logan’s claws had torn through his shoulder and ribcage, deep enough to sting with every movement. His knuckles were split, his lip was busted, and one side of his jaw was turning a sickly violet.

Neither of them complained, neither of them even tried to patch the wounds.

Because it felt right, this pain. Deserved. And if it meant a chance to see you again, to try and fix what they shattered, they’d crawl the rest of the way.

Logan didn’t look back as he walked toward the porch.

He stepped back, motioning toward the porch. “Go ahead. Take a look at what you did.”

Steve and Bucky hesitated before stepping inside.

And there you were, sitting by the window, staring at nothing.

You looked… different, your face was blank, your posture slouched, your eyes, once so bright, so alive were empty.

Lifeless.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. “Doll…”

You didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them. Didn’t even blink. It was like you weren’t even there.

And that was when it truly hit them. They had done this to you.

And suddenly, the pain they had felt since you left was nothing compared to the agony of seeing what they had reduced you to.

Steve swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Doll… please.”

Nothing.

Logan leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. “Still think this is something you can just fix overnight?”

Steve and Bucky said nothing, because they knew now, this wouldn’t be easy. And they deserved every second of it.

The next few days were hell.

You didn’t speak to the, didn’t look at them.

Logan made it clear, “she’ll talk when she’s ready. Not before.”

So they didn’t try to push their way inside.

Instead, they stayed in the car, instead of heading back to the compound.

Every night, no beds and warmth. Just bruises, blood-soaked gauze, and guilt.

Steve sat in the driver’s seat, barely moving, his ribs bound but still aching with every breath. His swollen eye throbbed under the butterfly bandages Logan tossed at him, no more, no less. Bucky sat in the passenger seat, shoulder stitched up by Logan who had done it because you told him to, but he didn’t told that to them, watching the cabin through the windshield like it might vanish if he blinked.

They didn’t leave.

Not to shower. Not to eat.

Logan had to drag them a blanket the first night, tossing it into the dirt with a scoff. “You bleed out here, fine. But don’t fucking die on my property.”

Every morning, Bucky walked to the porch and left your favorite coffee on the step. Every afternoon, Steve left a handwritten note, something short. Simple. Honest.

Sometimes it was “We’re still here.” Other times, “We love you.” Once, it was just “I’m sorry. I will never stop being sorry.”

You didn’t react. Not once. But the coffee was always gone by mid-morning.

And every evening, they sat under the quiet hush of the trees, bruised and broken, but still there. Still waiting. Still fighting.

Because this time, they wouldn’t leave first.

And yet, they refused to leave. Every morning, they were there. Helping. Talking. Apologizing.

Every day, they tried.

Not just with words, but with actions, because they knew they had to earn that back.

Logan watched them carefully, his presence a constant warning.

Meanwhile at the compound, Natasha had enough of Cassidy. She had her own way of dealing with things.

Cassidy barely had time to blink before the fist connected with her jaw. She flew backward, crashing into the training mats with a choked gasp. Blood bloomed across her lip.

“Get up,” Natasha said coldly, standing over her like death itself.

Cassidy groaned, dazed. “What the…”

Another strike. This one landed straight to the ribs, a sharp crack echoing across the room. Cassidy screamed in pain.

“You thought this was a game?” Natasha growled, crouching beside her, her voice low and lethal. “You thought you could slide in, smile pretty, and dismantle a woman’s life for fun?”

She grabbed Cassidy by the collar and slammed her into the wall.

Cassidy whimpered. “I didn’t…!”

SMACK. Natasha’s palm connected with her cheek.

“Don’t lie to me!” Natasha’s voice never rose, but every word dripped with fury. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Cassidy’s lip trembled. “They let me…”

“They were stupid,” Natasha spat. “But you? You were calculated.”

She released her, letting Cassidy crumple to the floor, blood stained her teeth. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts. And Natasha straightened her spine, adjusting her sleeves like Cassidy was dirt beneath her boots. “You’re done here.”

Cassidy looked up, eyes wide, voice barely a whisper. “What?”

Natasha didn’t blink. “I already spoke to Fury. Your access is revoked. You’re off the roster. Pack your shit.”

“You can’t do that…”

“I did.”

Cassidy struggled to her feet, clutching her ribs. “You don’t understand…I…”

“I understand perfectly,” Natasha snapped, stepping closer again. “You played with fire, hoping you’d get warm off someone else’s ruin. You didn’t care about Steve or Bucky, you just cared about having something that was never yours.”

She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted.”

Then she stepped back and opened the door to the hallway. “Now get out. Before I forget I’m done hitting you.”

Cassidy staggered out, clutching her side, sobbing softly. And the moment she crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her.

Back in the silence of the training room, Natasha exhaled and pulled out her phone. A quick text sent. One word.

“Handled.”

Back at the cabin, Logan stood on the porch, a beer in hand and his eyes trained on the car parked near the tree line. The same damn car. Still there. Still full of bleeding, broken, stubborn super-soldiers.

His phone buzzed. One word from Natasha.

“Handled.”

He smirked, good. Cassidy got what she deserved. He slipped the phone back in his pocket, then turned his gaze to the window, where he saw you, sitting curled up on the couch, knees hugged to your chest, face half-shadowed by the fading evening light.

You had seen the text too and you knew what it meant, but you said nothing, just turned your gaze back to the window, to the outline of that car, where they still were.

That night, after Logan went to bed, you stayed on the couch, eyes wide open. The blanket felt heavy. The silence pressed against your ears like water.

Your heart ached.

When you had first heard their voices at the cabin, something inside you had broken again, shattered, because it wasn’t enough that they made you feel small.

Now they were here. Showing up. Bleeding for it.

Your brother’s claws had torn them apart. And they stayed.

The first morning, you thought it was a trick. The second, you thought they were just proving a point. By the third morning, when you found your favorite coffee still warm on the step… your fingers trembled as you brought it inside.

You told yourself it meant nothing, that they were just desperate.

But desperation didn’t look like Steve curled in the driver’s seat, shivering through fevered sleep, one eye swollen shut.

It didn’t look like Bucky dragging himself out of the car every morning despite the gash on his side reopening, limping up the porch just to leave a note with shaking fingers.

This wasn’t just guilt, it was grief.

And it was starting to chip away at your anger, but not your pain.

Because you still remembered how Cassidy smiled beside them. How you’d walked into the room, your spot between them already taken.

You remembered the silence. The way they didn’t even blink. You remembered walking away… and neither of them followed.

Even now, days later, a part of you hated that they were making you feel again. They had shattered something sacred.

And yet here they were, refusing to leave until they helped you put it back together.

A war was playing out in your chest. Fury and longing. Hope and heartbreak.

You curled tighter under the blanket, heart pounding, and whispered into the dark, “I don’t know if I can forgive them...”

But part of you wanted to try and that was enough, for now.

It was just after sunset, and the sky was painted in bruised shades of violet and gold when Logan found you sitting on the porch swing, knees pulled up to your chest, a mug cradled in your hands.

You hadn’t said a word, not about them. Not about anything.

Just silence.

Logan sat beside you without a word, the wood creaking under his weight. For a while, he didn’t speak either. The two of you watched the wind shift through the trees in front of the cabin, the whisper of pine needles your only company.

“They haven’t moved.”

Your eyes flicked toward him.

“They’ve been sleeping in that car for five days,” he said, voice low. “Wounds still bleeding. Busted ribs. Swollen faces. And they haven’t left.”

You stared down into your mug, “They should…” you muttered. “They forgot me...”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, “Yeah. They did.”

You expected more, but that was all he said.

After a long pause, he exhaled. “But they’re trying. Not with speeches or flowers. They’re not trying to talk their way out of this. They’re doing the only thing that matters now.”

“Which is?”

“Staying.”

You blinked at the horizon, eyes burning, “They didn’t stay when it mattered.”

“No,” Logan agreed. “But they’re staying now. In the dirt. In the cold. In the blood they earned. That says something.”

You scoffed. “They feel guilty.”

“They should feel guilty.” Logan turned to look at you. “But guilt doesn’t make a man sleep in a rusting car for five nights with broken ribs and half a face. Guilt makes you say sorry and run. What they’re doing out there? That’s something else.”

You didn’t respond.

He leaned back, one arm across the back of the swing.

“You don’t owe them anything. Not your time. Not your heart.” He looked at you then, softer. “But don’t let what they did stop you from seeing who they are now.”

Your lip trembled.

“And if they’re not that man? You’ll let me carve ‘em up myself.”

That earned a breath of a laugh from you, and he grinned. “There’s my girl.”

You wiped your cheek roughly and looked out at the dark outline of the car at the edge of the property. Still there. Still waiting. And maybe, for the first time you didn’t hate the sight of it.

One morning, as Steve placed a fresh cup of coffee on the table, you finally spoke.

Your voice was hoarse. Quiet. “Why are you still here?”

Steve froze.

Bucky, sitting across from you, slowly set down his fork.

You stared at them, your expression unreadable. “I left. You could’ve moved on. So…why are you here?”

Bucky exhaled, “Because we love you.”

Your jaw clenched, “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Steve leaned forward. “We messed up. We know that. And we’re so sorry, Doll. But we’re here because we won’t give up on you. Not ever.”

You looked away.

Bucky’s voice was rough. “We don’t deserve another chance. But we’re gonna fight for one anyway.”

A long silence stretched between you.

Then, finally you picked up the coffee and took a sip. And for the first time since they had arrived, you didn’t look so empty.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was something. And for Steve and Bucky, that was enough.

For now.

Part 1

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As you all can see, I tried to tag everyone but the tags don't work well, sorry 🥲❤️

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tripletstephaniescp · 24 days ago

Note

This was freaking hilarious and hot at the same time.

i feel like bucky definitely gives off like horny teenage vibes but times that by ten. like maybe y/n and bucky finally get together after the whole “will they won’t situation” and the minute bucky sleeps with y/n i feel like since he’s been so touched starved for like 70+ years that he’s like the most insatiable, kinkiest man y/n has ever been with , he’s touchy, he’s needy (in the best way possible) and all of the avengers are like “i’m glad you’re happy bro but put your dick away and get your hands out of your pants” and then he’s like “no”

18+ All the incoming smut. I need a cold shower wtf, this is so hot, is this even allowed? The answer is YES. yes it is. Bucky gives 10000% horny teenage energy and with that serum in his veins?

The will they won't they situation drives Bucky insane because it's gone on for long enough. He's been pining after you, too shy to actually spit it out, taking what he can get in those feeling moments you share. Lingering touches during training. Longing stares across the room. Late night talks where you're both too close to be just friends but you're not quite anything more either.

Bucky airs on the side of caution when it comes to you until he sees another man trying to get your attention from where he's seated at the bar. He's spent enough nights alone with his hand between his legs, tugging and pawing at his cock for some type of relief, surges of jealousy absolutely crush those feelings of shyness he had. By the end of the night, he has you naked in bed and he's ready to take you apart every which way but you're just too fucking pretty and he realizes he needs to be touched more than ever.

Bucky is the neediest baby on the planet, he's greedy, trying to touch every bit of you all at once. He doesn't have time to feel shame, to try and act like this is something he does on the regular. Honestly, he doesn't care that he's practically humping you like a little puppy, his hips rocking against your bare cunt, cock perfectly slotted between your folds.

"It's so fuckin' hard, angel" He moans against your neck, one hand squeezing your waist, the other reaching up you to tug your nipples. "My cock is so fuckin' hard cause of you"

He hasn't felt anything this soft in years and he's putty in your hands. He feels so sensitive all over, letting you push him onto his back so you can kneel between his thighs, your mouth so dangerously close to where he needed you so bad.

"Wait-wai-oh God, fuckkk meee" Bucky's head is thrown back with the deepest groan when you take his flushed tip into your mouth, dribbles of precum wetting your already silky tongue. He nearly shoots when you pull off with a pop and dip down to play with his sac, your warm mouth so much different from his hand.

"Oh my god my balls are so fuckin' heavy, yeah just like that baby, never had em' sucked before, fuck I- m'cumming!" His back arches and he has to careful not to clamp his legs shut as he starts to cum without warning. His hips thrust up against the air and his hands rush down to hold onto your head as he practically rubs his balls against you.

"Let's empty your cock, baby" You coo when his orgasm starts to slow, your hand coming up to wrap around his now semi hard cock. Your slow strokes cause spurts to dribble out and he starts to get harder against your palm.

"Shit, m'getting hard again baby, put it in your pussy, c'mon please angel, wanna feel it, it's been so long" Bucky's always considered himself a dominant man but that was until it came to you. He was definitely going to redeem himself but not tonight. Tonight he was just a needy slut for you and he was going to own every bit of it.

He spreads apart his thighs more for you to see how big and hard he is, not like you didn't know. He's pouting with those flushed cheeks, pupils blown, pawing at your body to get on top.

"Can I suck your boobs, wanna suck em' so bad, fuck-c'mere, put your nipples in my mouth angel, feed me those perfect breasts with my cock in you"

"Ready Jamie?-

"Yeah, yeah please, m'ready I promise, I'll be good, my balls are full again, feel them, please, wanna empty my cock" You hush his needy whines, reaching behind and cupping his sack with a smirk on your face.

"S'full again baby?"

"So full" He nods, his jaw falling slack when you start to sink down on him, chest heaving, how the fuck was he already ready to blow, there was no way-

"FUCKKKK" He cried out, shoving his hips up so he was stuffed all the way, pulling you down and rolling over, giving you sloppy thrusts while cum spilled from his sensitive head.

"Don't even think I came this fast the first time I touched myself" Bucky mumbles against your neck, practically purring while basking in the best post orgasm haze he's ever felt. He loves the smell of raw sex filling the room, your combined arousal the best thing on the planet. He's not ashamed from cumming multiple times, hardly lasting, making such a sticky mess on the bed.

He's too busy getting in all his needy cuddles while you baby him like he deserves, kissing his forehead and rubbing his back, cooing at the way he hugs you extra tight.

But it doesn't stop there.

Bucky is insatiable and after finally getting a taste, he's not going to stop now.

"For fucks sake Barnes" Sam shakes his head seeing Bucky make out with you while your perched on the kitchen island, the sight sort of wholesome except he can see the way the soldier is slotted between your thighs. Your legs wrap around him and Bucky's hips are rutting against your core, shamelessly trying to hump you, barely muffled groans slipping past his lips. If rubbing his dick on you was all he could get, then he'd fuckin' take it without a question.

It wouldn't be the first time.

You'd been caught more than once in the middle of missions. Bucky knew he was down bad when he was injured once and forced to just keep surveillance over a mission you were leading. He was watching everything on a large screen, lasting all of 5 minutes watching you in combat unless he couldn't handle the ache between his legs anymore. At first he hid what he was doing pretty well.

Then you sliced someone's neck and-

"Oh fuck me!"

"You better be shot, stabbed or missing an eyeball" Sam hissed through the coms while Tony's cackled crackled through, everyone's frequency synced to keep in contact.

"Sounds like he's the one whose about to shoot-

"FUCK BOTH OF YOU"

"MMPH" Bucky didn't bother responding, continuing to jerk his cock off while watching his gorgeous girlfriend.

"I know you're happy with y/n, and I'm happy for you both, trust me, but for the love of God can you please get your hand out of your pants?!"

The muffled groan that follows has Sam contemplating letting his wings fall off mid flight. Steve nearly gets stabbed with how distracted he is.

"Does Barnes every put his dick away?" Clint snorts hearing the muffled sounds of the bed hitting the wall from Bucky's room and seeing as you're nowhere to be found, it's clear what's happening.

"No. No he does not"

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tripletstephaniescp · 24 days ago

Text

So hot.

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes // Thunderbolts 2025

1K notes · View notes

tripletstephaniescp · 24 days ago

Text

Well, that's how I could start every morning. Damn. I love the way you interplay loving and commitment with hot as hell smut.

Sharp Dressed Man

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky looks good in a suit, and it isn't fair how easily he turns you on.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), referenced oral sex (f. receiving), feels, sweet and spicy fic, established relationship, vulnerability, being in love, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans based on an anon ask. ❤️ Thank you to the lovely @buckybarnesfic, @soelstress, @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for looking it over and assuring me it wasn't garbage. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was still getting ready for the day while you made him breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, and neither of you would let the other skip it. Thankfully the rest of the team had already eaten and were elsewhere, otherwise everyone would try to steal something; except for Bob because he wouldn't take food without asking. Not to mention the last time John tried to steal one of Yelena’s meals he almost lost a finger.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee cut through the last traces of sleep, warming you up as you loaded the plates with various foods and set them on the island. You rinsed the dishes and cleaned the counters while you waited for Bucky, doing a silly little dance in-between tasks. It wasn't your day to tidy up the kitchen, but you weren't going to be a jerk and leave it a mess.

“Someone’s happy this morning,” Ava said from behind you, and you somehow didn't jump at the sound. You were all getting used to her phasing in and out of the rooms. “Let me guess. Morning sex?”

Was it obvious since you were only in your robe and underwear? “Maybe,” you teased.

The wonderful ache between your legs was a nice reminder of how Bucky woke you earlier, making you shiver. You felt his fingers and tongue working you over before you opened your eyes, and you barely recovered from your first orgasm before he had his cock in you. It wasn't rushed either. He took his time, making you feel every delicious inch as he thrust slow and deep. Even when you came again he didn't stop.

“‘Attagirl,” he smiled against your lips while you trembled beneath him, his body effectively caging you in. “But you can give me one more. I know you can.”

“Bucky,” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to fill you to the brim.

“Just one more, sweetheart.” A hand moved between your bodies so he could play you like a well tuned instrument. “One more and I’ll give it to you.”

You did, and so did he, your name tumbling from his lips as he spilled into you. Who wouldn't give Bucky another orgasm if he gently demanded it? Three orgasms wasn't a bad way to start the day. A girl could do much worse.

“Lucky,” she smirked, snapping you out of your thoughts when she snatched a bite of food from Bucky’s plate. “Mmm. Remind me to have you make me breakfast the next time you have morning sex.”

“Hey!” you yelled, but there was laughter in your eyes when she took another bite and phased away. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Who will pay for what?” Bucky asked when he walked into the room, making your breath catch in your throat.

Bucky's hair was tucked behind his ears today, bringing your attention to his steel eyes before you took in the rest of him. His suit was tailored impeccably to his large frame, and he wore it well. He carried himself with composed ease, his steps deliberate and head held high. His presence demanded attention without appearing arrogant, which was tough to balance. He was all man.

He was your man.

“Fuck me,” you breathed.

Bucky may not be a Congressman anymore, but he would have had your vote for anything and everything he ever wanted.

His eyes flashed with unmistakable lust and pride as he walked toward you, making your stomach flip. “Already did.”

“You did, and you can do that again later,” you said, reaching up to trace his mouth.

You smiled when he kissed your fingers. It was an honor to touch him and that wasn't at all an exaggeration. You noticed how tense he got when some got too close to him, but not you. Never you.

“So, I look handsome?” he asked casually, adjusting his tie. “Not that I’m trying to look handsome. I’m only wearing this since I have a meeting, and I might get a few dirty looks if I show up in tactical gear.”

You almost teased that he was fishing for a compliment, but you saw just a flicker of his confidence waver as he waited for your answer. “Suit or tactical gear, you’re the most handsome man I've ever seen.”

He breathed out, his confidence back in full force. “I’m glad to hear that.” Sliding a hand over the curve of your hip, his fingers dug in, a protective and possessive touch, when he brought his mouth to your ear. “And I may have to wear suits around you more often since it turns you on so much.”

You tried to play coy, as if your nipples hadn’t peaked and your clit didn't throb. “Who said I'm turned on?”

Bucky chuckled and lowered his head, his teeth nipping your neck and drawing a whimper from you. His lips moved up to find your ear again while you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Don't have to say it, sweetheart. I can smell you,” he whispered. You couldn't hide anything with those heightened senses of his, a blessing or a curse depending on how you looked at it. “Ruined your panties the second I walked in here.”

Your eyes closed. He was right, the smug bastard. Damn him. Damn him to Hell. No, not there. That was too cruel. Your bed would do nicely.

It was insane the more you thought about it. The man could breathe and it would send your libido into overdrive. Feminism? Where did it go? One murder strut or grumpy stare and it went out the window along with your panties. One smile and it melted your insides.

What had he done to you?

“You're unbelievable,” you sighed.

He pulled back, searching your face. “What do you mean?”

“I was a strong and capable woman before I came here,” you said, the words sounding ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth.

“And you still are,” he assured you. Bucky was one of your biggest supporters, always.

“It’s just… Do you have any idea what that’s like? To just look at someone and get turned on?” You stepped out of reach and gestured to him. You asked yourself some days how Bucky Barnes could possibly be real. How did someone like him exist? “You breathe and I get aroused. That isn't normal.”

No other man had that kind of power over you, body or heart, until him.

The warm chuckle from your boyfriend had you fighting not to smile. “One, we’re not normal. Two, your breathing turns me on, too. And three, I do know it’s like to just look at someone and get aroused because that happens when I look at you,” he said, taking your hand to bring you back to him. He placed it against his crotch and grew harder under your touch. “We’re a match made in heaven, Hell, whatever you want to call it.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You two were a good match. “It isn't just arousal when I look at you. It’s…” You took a breath and gripped his jacket with your other hand, trying to be careful not to wrinkle it. “You smile at me and…”

“And what?” he asked, catching your eye and softly smiling.

You swallowed, your eyes suddenly misting over before you dropped your hands. It was alarming how quickly your emotions took over in regard to Bucky. “I see a future with you there.”

Bucky cupped your cheeks when you tried to duck your head. He had stripped you bare more than once, but saying something like that made you feel more vulnerable than when you were naked. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“You have the power to break me,” you whispered, your eyes shutting. Not to hide, but to keep the tears at bay. “Which should be terrifying, but it’s very exhilarating.”

To give that much of yourself to another, to trust them to that extent, wasn't easy. But if life taught you anything, it was that it was too short and you had to seize every opportunity to live it to the fullest. Who better to do that with than Bucky Barnes?

You cleared your throat when he didn't say anything, his eyes a storm of emotions when you opened yours. “Your breakfast is getting cold. You should-”

He surged forward, his lips covering yours. The pad of his thumbs brushed your cheeks when he deepened the kiss, coaxing you to open your mouth to his. Emotions surged through you, your heart nearly overflowing as you held onto each other. You felt everything all at once and let yourself be swept away.

He slowly broke the kiss allowing you both to savor the lingering touch of each other's lips and take a much needed breath. “You could break me, too, but you won't,” he said, his forehead resting against yours as you attempted to calm your racing heart. “Just like I'd never break you.”

It was a vow that resonated in your core, a declaration of love, one that had you kissing him again and silently promising the same. “Match made in heaven or Hell, huh?”

“And where you go, I’ll follow,” he smiled.

You'd follow him, too. “Well, right now you need to eat breakfast and head out so you aren't late for your meeting.”

He groaned and refrained from rolling his eyes. “This suit is coming off as soon as I get back,” he said, much to your disappointment. Or maybe your delight.

“Right when you get back?” You bit your lip. “Will you use the tie on me?”

“I can,” he smirked, making your body heat up all over again. “Can have a little fun in the office, too. Pretend I’m your boss and-”

“Or I could be your boss since I'm strong and capable,” you teased.

He moaned, seemingly into that idea as he backed you against the island. “Boss or not, I’ll still bend you over the desk or have you sit on it while I eat your pretty pussy.”

You whined. There was no stopping Bucky when he was hungry. He’d spread your legs and stay between them until you cried, lap up every drop and still want more.

His hands roamed your body, forgetting all about breakfast. “Fuck you raw and fill you up just the way you-”

Bob cleared his throat, both of you turning toward the sound. How long had the poor guy been standing there? “Just getting a drink,” he said, quickly going to the fridge and avoiding looking at you. “I’m not even here.”

“Sorry, Bob,” you smiled sheepishly when he grabbed his drink and bolted. “We should probably rent a hotel room or something soon and give the team a break.”

You and Bucky could be extremely private some days and others there was no stopping you. How the team put up with it you had no idea. Maybe because you made each other happy. It still had to be slightly obnoxious for them.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his handsome face, too. “Or we could always do a campout on the roof so we aren't too far away,” he suggested.

You smiled as you imagined it. Looking out over the city and watching the stars before cuddling up in a tent. A cabin getaway was also something to keep in mind for the future when you two could take a break together. Peaceful, quiet. Something just for the two of you.

“A roof campout sounds nice,” you said.

“Good,” Bucky smirked before he picked you up and set you on the island. “Campout later. Right now I want breakfast.”

“Bucky, your meeting.”

“I won't be late.”

You didn't resist when he opened your legs. “Ava said no more fooling around in the kitchen since we eat here,” you reminded him. Alexei would probably encourage it. “And I just cleaned up, and you haven't eaten the food I made.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” he winked as he crouched down. “And I’ll eat after I eat.”

And he did.

We deserve this. Bucky deserves this. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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tripletstephaniescp · 25 days ago

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I had 13 at one time. It was A LOT! But I loved each and every one.

Midnight Confessions

Light SPOILERS ahead!!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: A late night gives you the opportunity to flirt with Bucky and the next night he comes right back for more.

Author's Note: There are some Thunderbolts spoilers here- none really story related so much but more character driven. So reader BEWARE :D I had fun writing all the ridiculous dialogue in the beginning and it's a bit chaotic but I hope it makes you smile! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fun and fluff, flirtiness, tension, sweetness

You set the timer and place it on the counter, leaning back with a sigh. While it seems everyone else in the tower is asleep, you’re as wide awake as the bustling city below. This is the second batch of cookies you’ve made this week, but no one seems to be complaining.

After contemplating something on the TV you decide instead to read, hoping it will make you sleepy.

No such luck and just as you’re starting the next chapter you see a dark shadow at the entrance of the kitchen, you’re body stiffening.

“It’s just me doll.”

At the sound of Bucky’s voice, you instantly relax.

“Jeez you’re quiet,” you whisper.

He chuckles lightly and steps into the kitchen. His hair is slightly mussed as if he’s been running a hand through it and his tee shirt clings to the broad lines of his chest and toned biceps. With a hard swallow you let your eyes drop lower, to the way his pants sit low on his waist but still hug his thighs.

“Can’t sleep?” you squeak out, dragging your gaze back to his face.

He shakes his head no and moves closer, revealing a surprise. The guinea pig Yelena rescued from the lab sits atop his left shoulder, tucked close to his neck and partially hidden by his hair.

You sit up with a gasp and rush over to him, cooing quietly and without a word plucking the piglet from his shoulder.

“What are you doing up?” you ask the guinea pig in a sweet voice.

“I probably should have let him sleep but as soon as I made noise he started squeakin’.”

You look up at Bucky and notice his soft expression as he watches you with the guinea pig.

“It’s a boy?” you ask.

“Actually, I don’t know,” he replies.

“Hmm,” you say as you pet it’s soft fur. “I bet it’s a girl.”

“That works too,” he smiles. “Are you making cookies?”

“I am…they should be out…,” and you walk over to the timer, “in three minutes.”

“Great doll. I could use a snack!” He slowly rubs his stomach as he stretches, revealing the dark trail of hair that disappears enticingly into his sweats.

The guinea pig squeaks and draws your attention away before he catches you staring.

“She needs a name,” you state as you cradle her in your arm.

Bucky is silent for a moment before he blurts out, “Cookie.”

“That’s cute,” you giggle, “but I think you’re just hungry.”

He doesn’t disagree and keeps thinking.

“She’s brown and white so…BACON!”

You stop petting the piglet and narrow your eyes at Bucky.

He holds his hands up in surrender, but you can see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he tries to hold back a smile.

“Are you going to wash the dishes?”

Bob’s voice is so low you almost don’t hear it but Bucky spins around at the sound.

“Bob!” both you and Bucky exclaim.

“What’s going on in here?” Bob asks as he looks between you and Bucky.

“We can’t sleep, and I made cookies,” you explain.

“And we’re trying to give the guinea pig a name,” Bucky adds.

“Ok,” Bob says. “I’m going to wash the dishes.”

“Do you want help?” you ask him. “I can dry the bowls.”

“Sure,” Bob says.

You hand the guinea pig back to Bucky. “Don’t get comfy. I want her back when I’m done.”

“Anything you want doll,” he says with a wink.

“How about Piglet?” Bob chimes from the sink.

“Like in Winnie the Pooh?” you ask as you slide up next to him and take the first bowl to dry it.

“Yeah…she’s kinda tiny…,” Bob says.

“So, you think she’s a girl too!” you say happily. “Bucky was calling it a he.”

“Not because I don’t think it could be a girl…I just…said he first.”

“It’s a girl,” Yelena says as she walks in.

“See! I knew it!” you sing song.

“What is going on here?” Yelena asks.

“None of us could sleep,” Bob answers. “So, we’re making cookies, washing dishes and naming the guinea pig.”

“Are the cookies ready yet?” Yelena asks, eyeing the oven.

“Just about,” you answer.

“Bob suggested Piglet…but I like Bacon,” Bucky says to fill Yelena in.

“Of course you would say Bacon,” she tsks. “I like Piglet.”

“Do I smell cookies?”

Walker strides in and heads straight for the oven.

“HEY Walker,” you whisper shout. “They’ll be out in a minute.”

He stops and plops himself down on a stool at the island with a huff.

“Why didn’t anyone invite me to the party?” he says.

“Because you’re an asshole,” but you and Yelena chime simultaneously but not without a smile pulling at each of your mouths.

“Can I least have some cookies,” Walker asks.

“Of course,” you tell him.

“Why don’t you name the pig, Hamlet,” Walker adds.

Everyone is quiet for a minute and tries to hide their smiles. “Actually, that’s cute,” you say, “but we’ve decided it’s a girl so maybe something…more…girly.”

Walker rests his chin in his hands but remains silent.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Ava says, appearing from the other side of the wall.

Bob startles at the sink and Walker rolls his eyes.

“No one can sleep, we are about to eat cookies, and we need a name for our girl guinea pig,” Yelena sums up quickly before opening the oven just as the timer dings.

“Pipsqueak,” Ava says flatly.

Yelena smiles. “I like that. She does squeak…a lot.”

“But she’s brave,” Bob says. “She survived the lab. I wouldn’t call her a pipsqueak.”

“But Piglet is scared of everything isn’t he?” Bucky muses. “So that wouldn’t work either.”

“Oh,” Bob sighs. “Yeah, he is.”

“Still like Bacon,” Bucky mumbles to himself.

“WHO SAID BACON?” Alexei booms when he walks in. “We eat?”

Yelena hangs her head with a sigh and Ava rolls her eyes.

“No bacon,” Bucky says sadly. “But we have cookies.”

“Hm, that will do,” Alexei says as he walks over to Yelena and pulls out the hot tray with his hand.

“You should let them cool,” you say to Alexei as he goes to grab for one.

“No, no…I like them all gooey and melted and messy…” He pops half the cookie in his mouth and hums happily.

Bucky slides over; the guinea pig nestled in the crook of his metal arm as he grabs for a cookie.

Walker reaches over the island to grab his own.

“They’re still hot guys!” you scold but give up with a sigh when half the tray is gone in under a minute. “You better grab one,” you whisper to Bob.

He turns from the sink and wipes his hand, reaching for a cookie and placing it on a napkin near him. “I’ll let mine cool,” he says with a small smile.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and lots of mumbled praises over the cookies, you ask, “so what are we naming the guinea pig?”

Alexei yells out, “ALEXEI!”

Everyone answers with a determined, “NO!”

Alexei deflates and takes another cookie.

“So far we ruled out all the suggestions,” you say, leaning back on the counter next to Bucky.

Without prompting he hands you the guinea pig. You gently hold her up and look her over.

“I have so many ideas but none of them seem to fit,” you huff.

“All mine are related to food,” Bucky shrugs.

“I still like Alexei,” Alexei grumbles.

“Hamlet isn’t girly enough,” Walker says.

“Piglet and Pipsqueak make her sound too timid,” Ava adds.

Finally, Yelena says, “what about Nat?”

All eyes turn to her, soft with unspoken words.

“That’s perfect,” you say quietly and everyone agrees.

Once the few remaining cookies are packed away and the kitchen is clean you walk over to Bucky who’s leaning against the wall, Nat once again cradled against his chest in the crook of his metal arm.

“She likes that spot,” you say quietly as you gently stroke her back.

“Yeah, maybe because it’s cool,” he says and then softly touches her nose as it twitches.

You watch him for a moment, so sweet and gentle with the little furball.

“You’re so cute,” you say softly.

“She is right,” Bucky agrees.

“She meant you super soldier,” Alexei chuckles from behind you. “Not pig.”

“She’s a guinea pig Dad,” Yelena dead pans.

Alexei waves his had dismissively. “All same.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s, and you see the tops of his cheeks, just above all the dark stubble lining them, turn light pink.

“You meant little Nat right?” he asks.

“She definitely meant the guinea pig,” Walker says with a yawn as he walks by. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

Ava follows close behind him. “Me too. And she meant you Barnes.”

Alexei slaps Bucky hard on the back, jostling Nat in his arms and Bucky glares.

“Oh. Right, sorry,” Alexei mumbles then smiles wide. “She thinks you are cute.”

He walks away rubbing his stomach.

Only Yelena and Bob remain, Yelena with a smirk lifting her lips and Bob with wide eyes.

Your eyes stay on Bucky, and you lean in closer, still petting Nat. “No. I meant you. You’re really cute. Especially with her. It’s sweet.”

“She said he’s cute,” Bob whispers to Yelena who’s full on smiling now.

“Da,” Yelena nods, grabbing Bob’s arm to pull him down the hall.

“Does she like him?” Bob asks as he passes by you and Bucky.

Yelena laughs but doesn’t answer and keeps tugging him away.

The two of you are now alone and you watch Bucky’s gaze quickly drop to your lips before he says a quiet, “thanks.”

“Hope you can get some sleep,” you tell him then kiss his cheek. “Night.”

“Night, doll,” he whispers as he watches you walk to your room.

The next night when you’re still awake after midnight you head to the common room but when you don’t see a sign of anyone else you decide to go watch a movie until you fall asleep. The light knock on your door an hour later surprises you and when you open it to find Bucky on the other side you’re even more surprised.

“I didn’t wake you did I doll?” he asks in a rush.

“No, don’t worry. I was watching a movie.”

“I thought I saw light under the door so I figured you might still be up.”

“Did you want more cookies? The leftovers are in the cabinet.”

“Actually…Alexei ate them all. I checked…”

You snort laugh and grab Bucky’s hand, pulling him through the doorway.

“Of course he did,” you say as you plop down on the small couch.

Bucky follows and then stands there as if he’s unsure what to do next.

“You can sit,” you tell him.

He does.

“Are you watching The Goonies?”

“I am!” you say excitedly. “I’m so glad you’ve seen it.”

“Classic 80s.”

“Exactly,” you agree.

You settle back into the cushions and let your shoulder brush his. As the movie continues your body relaxes against him and he lifts his arm to rest it along the back of the couch. His fingers brush your shoulder and when he feels your skin pebble beneath his touch he does it again. Your breath catches in your throat and you audibly swallow.

The movie ends and you’re still pressed against him, his arm now circling your shoulders as his fingertips ghost over your skin.

“That’s one of my favorites,” you say and turn to meet his eyes.

“Mine too,” he whispers, curling his fingers around your arm so you turn your body into his.

His eyes wander over your face, their soft reverence only sharpened when they stop on your lips.

“Doll…I…”

Whatever he wants to say is lost in the moment and he presses his mouth to yours, softly at first, but when you slide your fingers into his hair and tug him closer, he hums low in his chest and deepens it, parting your lips.

His knuckles skim down your arm before splaying at your back and pulling you into his lap. His hand slips under your shirt, every caress of his fingertips slow and teasing as if he’s savoring every moment and committing it to memory. His kisses are sweet and languid and the hair lining his face scratches the soft column of your neck as his lips trail downward to your hammering pulse.

A deep and satisfied hum rumbles through his chest and you press yourself closer, feeling the hard lines of his muscle beneath his shirt.

“Bucky,” you whimper.

He lifts his head to stare at you, his breathing fast. His metal thumb lifts to trace your swollen bottom lip before he slides it behind your neck and brings your lips back to his, nibbling the same spot then soothing it with his tongue.

You moan into his mouth and the sound snaps what little control he’s holding on to and suddenly you’re flipped to your back, your wrists in his metal hand and pinned above your head. His eyes teasingly trail over your body, and you go pliant in his hold, your legs falling open as he settles between them.

He leans down, dipping his head to run his nose along your neck, breathing you in before his lips are on yours again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, his hand releasing your wrists and sliding lower to stroke your curves. “I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about it?” you ask as you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, licking his lips. “I came over here with the intention to ask you out on a date…”

“Is this not…?”

He cuts you off. “This is exactly what I want…you’re what I want. I’m just…trying to be a gentleman.”

Your lips form an O shape, and he kisses you again.

“I’ll go on a date with you Bucky,” you murmur between kisses.

“Good, that’s good,” he says, his warm hands continuing their exploration of your body while his lips trail down your neck.

You arch into him and slide your hands from his hair down his back, scraping lightly with your nails.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

When his eyes lift to yours he wears a pained expression.

“A gentleman,” he repeats.

“Right. A date,” you say.

“Fuck,” he mutters again but doesn’t move an inch.

You stare at each other, the tension building in the small space between you before he dips his head and kisses you again. His lips find the spot just below your ear and he whispers, “if you don’t tell me to go now…”

“I don’t want you to go Bucky. I want you to stay. I want you.”

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tripletstephaniescp · 25 days ago

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So, I made the collasal mistake of deciding to read this while I ate dinner. Huge mistake. I decided to re-read Part 1 and was choking back sobs with a closed up throat. Eating was done for a while. Then I started Part 2. I was angry at the boys and thoroughly enjoyed Nat's dressing down of them. By the time they had started to realize how seriously they fucked up, I was sobbing again. I think my husband is secretly planning to tell my doctor to up my depression and anxiety meds. 🤭

Husband's sometimes don't get that its good to feel and cry over a written piece of brilliance.

I am hoping there will be another part because it feels undone but the line where Logan herself tried to explain the massive fuck up, tore my heart in half. And the headspace our girl was in tore into smaller pieces. I loved that Logan kicked the shit out of them and I love that they stayed. I'm not entirely sure how they fix this but I cannot wait to find out.

Me ugly crying.