big-heart-ninjasblog

[big-heart-ninjasblog]

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

for bucky x reader PLZZZ

love, @flowersforbucky

Confessions of Mr. Grumpaholic

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader A/N: Initially, I started this for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration, but the Ask also inspired me to tune it to Smutty September Fest. Thanks to @bigtreefest it's a part of both the events now! <3 Yay! My first installment to the Smut Fest. I hope you like it @flowersforbucky Thank you so much for sending the ask, Cait. Sorry for the super tiny fic ;) In all seriousness though, read at your comfort. I've also divided it into three parts for your convenience. This is a looooong one. I think I've outdone myself on the word count. Word Count: 16k (Oops) Warnings: Mature Content, Minors DNI, Allusions to sex, Masturbation, Overloaded fluff, Sassy Bucky, Slight Pining trope, Panic attack, Smidge of angst, Super happy happy ending, Steve doesn't gray his hair post endgame, Steve is a little shit too, lemme know if I'm missing anything. Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me and the photo credits to the internet. Check out my other works: Masterlist Read Ablaze, Epilogue to this story!

Indulge Away!

****

Cherish the chance encounters, for you never know which one will be the beginning of your forever.

Meeting Bucky was disorienting. Nick Fury had assigned you to help Bucky after the government pardoned him. There was a catch, though; he needed to attend a few mandated therapy sessions and yada yada. You were part of that yada yada, a support system on paper until the government knew Bucky was safe to be in society. As a part of court-mandated therapy, you were given certain privileges that you never asked for, like visits to his therapist.

Not that you were someone extraordinary, you were merely one of the obvious choices for the task.

Recovering from the injuries from a mission and not being assigned to any other missions until you healed, Fury coaxed you into helping Bucky out because the government needed someone enlisted who was not Steve Rogers or the high league posse.

When you'd think about it, it was utterly puerile to appoint you. You would have kicked the bucket if the Winter Soldier got unleashed.

The term Fury used was 'handler.' You hated it. Bucky loathed it. And boy, did he show his contempt, incessantly so.

For the first few days, Bucky stymied every effort you attempted to make the process smooth. Tracking him down was a nightmare. Despite being an agent yourself, it was impressive how such a six-foot tall, beefy man could be as stealthy as he was; one second, you'd see him, and the next, he'd be gone, but again, he was the Winter Soldier. Former Winter Soldier.

You didn't accept defeat, though, because, with your broken arm in a sling, you really had no better things to do except play 'chase the assassin' as a pastime.

It may have been two weeks of you chasing him, but he eventually yielded. You wondered when he started pitying you because he let you catch him.

After three meetings with Dr. Raynor, Bucky's therapist, you realized she was a mean and passive-aggressive lady, according to you, of course, and you kept your opinions to yourself.

On one such visit, Dr. Raynor walked out to the waiting area, still talking to Bucky as they came out of a session, 'You gotta explore, James. Do normal things.' Dr. Raynor stated, handing you the list.

Bucky stood at the far end of the room. You had rolled your eyes not so subtly when you went through the list, reading through the suggested places she had mentioned. She even told you how important it was to substantiate the visit with a photo.

You remember that slight tilt of his lips vividly to this day when Bucky caught your gaze. Maybe that did crack those rigid walls he built to keep you out, or perhaps it was after that when you sat in the cold outside his apartment and waited for him so you could take him to the list of places Dr. Raynor had given him as a task.

"Next time, maybe forgo the coat; you'll freeze up quickly if that's what you were going for," Bucky's rough voice broke the sleepy delirium that evening.

He was crouching before you, an unmistakable frown marring his features from underneath his cap.

You snuggled into the warm blanket wrapped around you and picked up the dixie cup filled with hot coffee that he placed beside you on the steps that you made temporary abode in the cold.

It was chillier than usual with a foreboding winter storm on the way, and you were a bit high on Hydrocodone, the painkiller that you were taking for your broken arm. So, you had no idea when you fell asleep. You looked up at him, letting out a tired chuckle, grateful for his thoughtfulness of not letting you freeze to death.

"Next time, maybe stick to the plan," you grumbled, sipping into the coffee instead of thanking him. After all, it was his fault.

~

It had been a long journey since then. Things with Bucky were less turbulent. He listened to you; it was very enlivening for a change. He would make subtle remarks at your expense, too.

Sticking to the task at hand and following Dr. Raynor's orders, you accompanied Bucky to Ellis Island. You both walked through the crowds, surrounded by tourists and the distant murmur of ferry horns. It was a pleasant day; the sun descended, casting beautiful hues in the sky. You had navigated the crowd for nearly an hour, and while Bucky tried to keep his focus, you felt the sudden shift in him. He visibly tensed up beside you, and you could see the pressure mounting in his expression as he rapidly looked around, breathing unevenly.

"Bucky," you looked at him, keeping aside your worry. "We can leave if you want to." Bucky nodded, but his eyes kept darting around. His breaths became shallower.

You noticed the slight tremor in his hands and reached out, maintaining a calm and steady tone, "Bucky, hey, look at me."

But he couldn't, and you felt like he was drowning in his mind. His breathing grew more ragged.

You took your hand over his clutched fist, rubbing gently, and he loosened the grip, and you could feel the clammy, icy hand engulf yours.

You had moved closer to him. "Bucky, I need you to breathe with me, okay? Just focus on me," you said gently, hoping your voice anchored him back, and he blinked, trying to focus on your face. You helped him through a few sensory techniques you were aware of.

"You're okay. You're safe, Bucky," you told him repeatedly.

Bucky followed your lead, slowly regaining control of his breath, though the tension in his body lingered. You didn't rush him; you stayed close, blocking out the rest of the world, shielding him from the crowd. Once his breathing steadied, you gave him a soft smile, squeezing his arm.

"Let's get out of here, yeah? We can go somewhere quiet." You whispered gently.

Bucky nodded, unable to speak, but the relief was evident in his eyes. You had led him away from the bustling crowd, navigating through the ferry terminal and back onto the city streets, where the noise was less overwhelming. You walked silently, Bucky's hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense, while you kept close, matching his pace without a word.

After a while, you found a secluded spot near Battery Park, away from the main paths. The area was quieter, with fewer people and the soft sound of the river lapping against the shore. The sky had darkened with cloud cover, engulfing in a bleak yet serene bubble.

You settled onto a low wall overlooking the water, the cool breeze calming. You hoped it soothed Bucky, too.

Sitting there beside the tall man, your perception of him changed. Initially, you'd felt pity for Bucky Barnes, but at that moment, you realized how inhuman you were being. He was mind-controlled for years. Years. You could probably never even come close to comprehending the extent of how he felt.

You decided to stop working with him as a task and instead start working with what's best for him, even if you have to go against the ways of Dr. Raynor. You had to up your game. Maybe you'd never be Steve Rogers for Bucky, but you could come close to being a friend.

You slipped away briefly, giving him the space to compose after the panic attack and an opportunity to leave if he wanted to; you bought him your favorite milkshake and falafel from the nearby food truck.

When you returned with the food, Bucky was still there. He didn't attempt to move to take his food, so you handed Bucky the milkshake without a word, letting him take the lead. Bucky stared at the food for a moment, his jaw tight, but after a beat, he accepted the shake, taking a slow sip.

The familiar, comforting taste must have brought a faint smile to his lips. And seeing him smile made you grin like a fool. You settled beside him, eating in silence.

You sat there for hours, until it was dark.

It was quiet, just the two of you, with nothing but the sounds of the distant city and the occasional lapping of water against the rocks. You could feel the tension in his chest slowly start to ease. You finished the food in companionable silence, the kind that didn't need to be filled with words.

As you started walking back along the quiet sidewalk, you stumbled over a raised edge, your foot catching awkwardly on the pavement. You let out a surprised yelp and flailed with your one functioning hand to regain your balance. Bucky reached out swiftly, steadying you with a chuckle.

"Hey, it's dark! And that sidewalk definitely moved." You mumbled. Bucky let out a rarely-heard laugh. The tension of the evening seemed to melt away.

"Yeah, sure. We'll blame the sidewalk." He muttered. Though embarrassed by your clumsiness, you couldn't help but feel glad.

Things gradually changed after that point.

He insisted on walking you home that night.

"It's totally fine, Barnes. I can walk home alone," You had said firmly. It was hilarious how you denied him walking you home when you wanted him to be okay with you loitering around him, babysitting. If that thought crossed his mind, he was gentleman enough to keep it to himself.

"Oh, you're fine? Great. I'll be there just in case," he retorted, casually leaning against the light pole and shrugging his shoulder.

It was then you realized Bucky Barnes was a cheeky little shit filled with sass. It was also when you realized he was ruggedly handsome, and he didn't even have to try hard. Not letting thoughts go astray on his gorgeousness, you sighed in defeat.

"Ugh," you grumbled.

You had kept the conversation running for both because Bucky was not much of a talker. That walk felt borderline romantic despite knowing he walked you home in danger you would trip yourself again or get mugged. You told him how you loved baking, reading, and a few other silly details of your life. He listened, maybe tuned you out a bit, but you liked to think he listened to your constant blabber.

~

You started connecting with him gradually, poking fun at his expense, unaffected by his constant grumpiness. You knew you didn't take teasing too far, being careful not to trigger him in any way consciously.

Then came his birthday. It was a clear occasion to show him you considered him more than just a mission. So, you decided to surprise him with a birthday cake, a box of confectionaries with some gifts, and a silly little birthday balloon and knocked on his apartment.

When you brought him cake and gifts, you had only thought of dropping by his front door if he didn't open the door. But he did open the door, standing in his joggers and tiny blue shirt that fit him perfectly, looking shocked at you like you were an alien.

You caught a glimpse of his pillow on the floor, and your heart tugged at that. You guessed he had trouble sleeping, but this just confirmed it. Bucky didn't invite you into his apartment, and you didn't try asking either, knowing it was his safe space.

Clearing your throat, you intended to wish him Happy Birthday, but you muttered, "It's your birthday, Barnes," with a stupid grin.

"Why do you know my birthday?" He demanded with narrowed eyes.

"Uh... it's displayed in the Smithsonian, and I just am good with dates, Bucky," you scoffed, not disclosing to him the fact that you read the 97-page file Fury handed you about him. And Merlin's Beard! It was astronomically far from a light read.

Bucky let out an exasperated breath and looked down at the deserted hallway. The shock soon converted to a steady frown, a familiar expression you were used to for which you rolled your eyes as he folded his hands to his chest, looking at you like you just poisoned his food right under his nose. You tried to hand him the cake and the gifts, but he didn't budge.

When you warned him that you'd sing Happy Birthday embarrassingly loud if he didn't take the gifts, he conceded with a huge frown and a grunt. It was the first time you realized Bucky had a car because, up until then, you thought his mode of transportation mainly was riding a bike or Floo powder; after all, he seemed to appear and disappear into thin air randomly. He drove you home that night, irked by the fact you took a taxi at that hour.

You took that as a win, although a bit envious that you missed his reaction when he opened the gift wrapper and found the gag gift you snuck in: the bright pink kitty key holder. Surely, he must have shunned that into the bin quite as fast, but you hoped he liked the leather jacket you got him. The next day, he wore it, and all things holy, he looked so hot in it, and your eyes nearly popped off their socket. He didn't acknowledge it, nor did you; you felt exhilarated despite that.

~

When you sought shelter at a small bookshop because it was pouring outside and you forgot your umbrella, you realized that Bucky shared your interest in reading. You sat there for hours discussing tons of books and theories. It was the most Bucky talked to you since you first met. You would share your books and, sometimes, your latest cooking repertoire with him, and you liked to think he started enjoying your shared time, which was most of the time every day.

Soon, Bucky started adapting to things. He was sent on small missions, led some missions, and even asked to oversee recruit training. You met his friends, the Avengers cohort. They were an odd bunch just like you but with a shit ton more skills, and you liked them.

You met Captain Rogers more often, 'Call me Steve,' he would say rather stubbornly, and you kept calling him Captain Rogers. Sam Wilson became a regular in your meetings, too. Bucky seemed to like that you annoyed his friends.

As per the task at hand, you were quickly becoming insignificant alongside him: so, no more roaming around in the pretense of Dr. Raynor's list, no more photoshopping Bucky in all the busy crowded, touristy spots of New York City to substantiate--a hobby you were too proud about and Bucky, though secretly grateful for your photo editing skills, still frowned at you--and no more hanging out with Bucky in general because it was not like he chose to hang out with you. You were thrust into his life by the requirement of the government.

One warm evening, Fury called to confirm your thoughts. You were officially off babysitting Barnes. Bucky was clear. You felt exuberant for him. You didn't have the guts to say goodbye to Bucky, so you texted him with a few cat gifs wishing him congratulations. He left you on read for two days. Then, he texted you a 'Thanks.' It was hilarious how excited you got to read his text.

A week passed, and you slowly retreated into your life, focusing more on catching up on your life and other household stuff that you otherwise ignored due to lack of time. You remember that it was a week filled with so much binge-watching. You caught up on The Great British Baking Show's latest season and a ton of cheesy old movies you watched as guilty pleasure that your eyes almost started hurting. It was a pretty unhealthy week for your body but a needed week for your mind.

Your hand was out of the cast, and you had PT left. The day you were set to go to physio, Bucky was waiting outside your apartment. You looked taken aback. He was in his jeans and a pale blue t-shirt with a jacket, looking handsome. He was no more hiding his face underneath caps, and the bright sunny day reflected his cerulean blues, and your breath hitched looking at him. You sighed, clearing your thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him. He shrugged, opening the car door for you to sit.

"Bucky, that's not needed. I can go alone just fine," you told him.

His expression was unreadable, but a familiar stubbornness in his eyes made you pause.

He leaned onto the car, clutching the door open. "Thought I'd tag along. Figured you might want some company." Bucky shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

It wasn't an offer. He wasn't giving you the option to refuse, not because he was overbearing, but because he knew you'd probably never ask for the company outright. You stared at him momentarily, surprised but touched, and finally conceded, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Okay, but don't blame me if you get bored out of your mind," you told him.

He didn't retort and handed you a coffee and croissant wordlessly, and it filled your heart with warmth. "Thank you, Bucky."

You were out of your depth as to how you could confront him, but Bucky seemed to be everywhere.

Everywhere.

As you had to go to physical therapy more, Bucky accompanied you regularly. Though it itched you to ask him how he knew your schedule, you never asked him, fearing he would stop hanging out with you. And in those moments, you told yourself he was not just a regular guy but an Avenger/ex-Winter Soldier.

You checked in at the front desk, glancing over your shoulder to see Bucky already settled into one of the waiting room chairs, flipping through an old, dog-eared magazine. Occasionally, he'd swipe at his phone, deeply engrossed in a game of Fruit Ninja, the faint sounds of slashing fruit and upbeat game music filtering through the air. You wondered if he played it for the sound of knife slashing; you indeed played just for that.

You moved to the exercise room, where your therapist guided you through stretches and strengthening exercises, pushing just to the point of discomfort. Every so often, you'd glance back toward the waiting area and see Bucky still there, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn't expected. He never looked impatient, didn't check his watch, or fidgeted like he wanted to leave. It was as if he had nowhere else he'd rather be, and that made your tummy flutter.

Troy, one of the guys who worked at the center, had been closely monitoring you since your first visit. He was nice, with a charming smile and an easygoing demeanor that made him popular with nearly everyone who came in. You'd noticed how his eyes lingered a little too long when you walked in, how he'd always find a reason to come over during your sessions, adjusting your form with a light touch or cracking jokes to make you laugh.

Today was no different. As you finished a harrowing stretch, Troy wandered over, his smile bright and confident.

He leaned against the nearby equipment, casually tossing a towel over his shoulder. "You're really getting the hang of this. Won't be long before you're back to one hundred percent."

"Thanks," you smiled.

Troy grinned, leaning in slightly. "You know, maybe we could celebrate once you're fully healed. I know this great little café by the waterfront. Best coffee in town."

It was an almost-invitation, a clear hint that he was interested, and you'd noticed these subtle gestures from him before—lingering compliments, casual touches, and comments that hinted at something more than just professional interest. But today, as you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Bucky still sitting there, his attention momentarily shifted from his phone to the scene unfolding. His presence was imposing calm, yet undeniably watchful, even from across the room.

Bucky's eyes met Troy's briefly, calm but unwavering. It wasn't a glare, but something about Bucky's demeanor seemed to set Troy on edge. Troy hesitated, his previous confidence faltering as he glanced back at Bucky, then at you.

Troy cleared his throat, his smile slightly strained. "But, you know, no rush. Whenever you're ready."

You nodded, keeping your tone light but non-committal. "Thanks, Troy. I'll think about it."

As he walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awkwardness. Troy was nice, attractive, and charming, but you weren't eager to encourage something that wasn't there for you. And Bucky's presence only made that realization sharper. You didn't have the energy to navigate flirtations or the complications that came with them. Not when Bucky was around.

When your session ended, you grabbed your things and joined Bucky, who looked up from his game with a lazy smile. His countenance slightly surprised you.

Bucky, his tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity, remarked, "Looks like you've got an admirer."

You rolled your eyes, "Troy's just being nice. Besides, I think he's a little scared of you."

Bucky chuckled, standing up and stretching confidently, "Me? I'm harmless."

You glanced up at him, your heart flipping at how his eyes softened as they met yours. "Sure, Barnes. You're about as harmless as a loaded gun."

He smirked but didn't deny it, and together, you made your way out of the center.

Truthfully, having a friend felt good. You got friends, but they were mostly from your job, and you never felt close to them. With Bucky, the friendship felt intimate--meeting him always felt warm and fuzzy.

Now and then, you wondered if Bucky saw this as friendship: he was comfortable with only a few people, and perhaps, despite any say in the matter, you were one of them. It didn't bother you. You liked the bond you shared with him. It was sweet borderline diabetic, too. You hung out almost every day except when he was off on missions.

When you went to Spencer's one day, you found another silly thing for him. A bright band that said, therapy buddy. It cracked you up so much you had to buy it for him.

"Seriously?" He exclaimed, rolling his eyes, frowning at you, and shoved it into his pocket. At least he didn't chuck it in a bin. He told you how insufferable Dr. Raynor was being.

Your friendship--what you liked to call it--stayed consistent for a few months. Bucky, too, started accepting you. He now talked more than one word or phrase and made jokes at your expense vehemently. They were subtle and sharp but made you smile, and your heart fluttered just a bit.

~

Things were settling down for him, and for you, not so much. The weight of the truth bludgeoned you when you went to Wilmington with Bucky. Bucky had a mission and the details you were not privy to. He had been going around 'making amends,' as he called them.

Never been to the coastal town, you asked if you could join him, and he not so reluctantly let you. It was a six-hour long drive, and it was beautiful. You did most of the talking, telling about your family, high school, college, and everything he never asked about. He dropped you off at the town and told you he would join you later.

It was one of those perfect evenings where the sky looked like a canvas of soft pinks, purples, and oranges painted by the sun's final rays.

Ambling around the tiny shops on the River Walk, you shopped for some chocolate and a few fragrant soaps you knew you'd never use, and Bucky joined you there just before sunset.

You both sat on the small wooden high stools, facing the water and watching the hues jutting out over the calm waters of the Cape Fear River. You shared a pizza that was a little too greasy and absolutely perfect.

"I don't think this is quite up to your 1940s pizza standards, but hey, times have changed," you teased him.

Bucky took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before shrugging. "You kidding? This is an upgrade. I could get used to this whole modern world thing." He said with a slight tilt of his lips.

That statement carried so much weight, showing how far he had come. Bucky was a better human being than most, compassionate even with that grumpiness. For him to be a nice person, despite being through some dark shit, it was applause-worthy in your opinion.

The wind carried the faint scent of saltwater, and the water splashed gently against the wooden columns underneath. You leaned onto railings, legs dangling over the edge. There was a soft breeze coming off the river, the kind that was just enough to ruffle hair and carry the sounds of the water lapping at the posts. The sun had just set, leaving behind a brilliant watercolor sky reflected on the ripples below. It was calm and perfect, and you felt suspended in time beautifully.

Bucky reached into the bag of sweet treats you'd picked up from a local bakery, pulling out a couple of chocolate-covered cannoli; you took a huge bite, smearing chocolate on your nose and mouth.

"You're such a messy eater," he laughed softly, pulling out a couple of tissues. You snatched them from him and wiped your face vigorously. You looked at him with narrowed eyes when he scrunched his face in a grin.

"Good thing you're cute," he chuckled, barely audible, but you heard it. A slight blush covered your cheeks, but thankfully, he looked away.

You watched him as he looked out over the water, his profile softened by the fading light, a serene expression you rarely saw on him. Bucky looked so at peace; the tension that usually sat on his shoulders was gone, replaced with something lighter and freer. He leaned front on his elbows, resting them on the railing, the sunset's glow highlighting the lines of his sharp jaw, and the way his lips curled in a half-smile made a jolt of warmth spread through you.

Though your mind ran with thousands of thoughts, you sat in comfortable silence; the only sounds were the occasional trilling of the birds and the distant hum of a boat motor. You realized how rare it was to see Bucky so relaxed, just being there in the moment, and you found yourself studying him more--how his eyes softened when he looked at the sky, the way his hair caught the last bit of daylight, and the ease of his laughter that you had grown to love.

And that was when it hit you, like a sudden and unrelenting wave crashing against the shore. You were in love with him, the way the feeling wrapped around your heart and squeezed tight. It shook you to the core, this realization that Bucky Barnes wasn't just a mission, a friend, or your favorite person to argue with; he was everything. And sitting there, with Bucky beside you, his knee casually touching yours, the breeze whispering through his hair, there was no denying it anymore.

You turned your gaze back to the horizon, trying to hide the slight tremble in your hands as you drummed your fingers on the railing. The vibrant hues of the sunset mirrored the whirlpool of emotions inside you--beautiful but overwhelming. More inclining towards overwhelming because James Bucky Barnes couldn't possibly feel anything towards you.

And it terrified you to no end.

After that, it was a downward spiral for you. Every little thing about Bucky became hyper-focused. You started noticing little things he did for you, like how he hovered his hand on your back when in the crowd, how he deliberately stepped around on the side of the road if you were walking on the sidewalk, how he opened doors, how he walked you to your apartment and tagged around you for general work, how he met your eyes and gestured or conveyed little things without as much as opening his mouth. It was sheer torture.

~

Then December came along. You had gone home for Thanksgiving and came more relaxed and carrying a lot of food. You needed that time to get your bearings straight. Since your parents were going to Australia to visit your brother for Christmas, you would be home alone for Christmas. 

One cold December morning, Bucky knocked on your door. You were both attending the book festival you told him about a few months ago. It had been almost a week since you last saw him. It took you a hot minute to recognize him through the peephole. He looked so entirely different; you stood shocked. He cut his hair short, and boy, it suited him so much. He looked like a male model who just walked down the ramp. Drop dead gorgeous.

You were taken aback, rushing to your tiny kitchen as you gulped down some water to calm your nerves and heated cheeks. You greeted him with a practiced smile when you opened the door and gestured to his hair. He shrugged with a bloody grin, and you felt your heart skyrocket.

You blamed the cold weather for your blushing cheeks for the rest of the day.

You often invited Bucky to your general outings. His therapy sessions were sporadic, what with Dr. Raynor's holiday schedule. Bucky seemed more peaceful because of it.

When Captain America invited you to the Christmas Eve party, you denied it. But you were almost bullied into attending. So, you did and bought everyone gifts, hoping they'd like them. The party was intimate; only a few joined, and you had much fun.

On Christmas morning Bucky came by your home, shocking you out of your wits as he gave you a beautiful pendant, which you wore every damn day. It probably was an obligatory gesture because you loved gifting things and you didn't want him to feel pressured into giving you things. Though you felt more than happy by his gesture, you told him clearly he didn't have to.

You were really juicing up the time Bucky and you shared; somewhere deep in your rational mind, you feared you would soon become too insignificant in his magnificent life. So, you cherished as much of the time as you got with him because it was bound to end eventually anyway. Right?

You asked him if he wanted to hang out and watch some old movies one evening. He told you he was tired and wanted to sleep. You respected that and walked around the city; Christmas in New York was otherworldly.

Deciding to do everything cheesy, you walked around the square, sipping hot chocolate, and that's when you spotted Bucky, accompanied by Steve, Sam, and Nat.

You felt a tug at your heart and it pained you because he lied instead of telling you he had other plans.

You escaped from there, not wanting to run into them.

It took a mere few steps walking down the block for your insecurities to catch up. You started feeling guilty and absolutely horrified by your overbearing nature. So, you had returned home with a ton of candy, a few doughnuts, and binge-watched movies alternating from cheesy Christmas movies to psycho thrillers. It eased your aching heart.

Much later, it gave you some perspective that you were enforcing your personal affections on him when he must have expected a trusting acquaintance.

Becoming reserved with fear of heartbreak, you avoided him for a bit, and that didn't mostly go according to your plan because he sought you out if you didn't respond to his one-phrase texts. Wherever you were, he'd appear out of nowhere as if you conjured him up.

Bucky Barnes was causing you trouble, viciously grabbing your senses, and you realized you were teetering to the edge of no return. Maybe you did cross that edge and fell deep. If not for that, there was no good reason why you were standing in your simple tracks and a t-shirt, with your backpack hung on one shoulder in the sea of glittering fancy crowd to give him his birthday present.

~~~~~

Funny how you delude yourself just by knowing half-truths

It was strange how times changed, indeed.

Fourteen months ago, you were apprehensive about working with James Buchanan Barnes. Yet here you were, battered and a bit bruised, dragging yourself in the vibrant sea of the hustle and bustle of the lounging area, carrying the present you wanted to give him for his birthday tomorrow instead of being halfway to your home and taking care of those minor bruises.

Your reasons were simple. You knew Bucky had a mission in a couple of days and wanted to give his gift before he left, wondering when he would return. Also, you put a lot of work into acquiring the gift, and you were excited for him to open it. So, when you came back from the mission, you headed straight to the party after Sam had told you where Bucky was without a thought in mind.

Though the party was not for his birthday per se, it was a charity gala night, conveniently scheduled for today just in time for Bucky's birthday. You could guess it had to do something with Captain Rogers and others getting involved.

"Didn't know it was a costume party," you heard the familiar voice and turned around to see Maria Hill, dressed perfectly in a short black dress.

Unfortunately, Bucky Barnes meant enough for you to be this excited to give him his gift, looking like roadkill. You laughed gently.

Shit, your back hurt!

"You look gorgeous," you complimented, and she winked at you, not missing the way you winced.

"I know, but what are you doing here? Thought you'd be resting your ass up after the mission," she said, her gaze scrutinizing.

"Just heading home...wanted to say hi," you stated lamely, fiddling with the backpack straps hanging by your sides.

"Leave you to it then," she walked away, leaving you to shuffle around. It was unlike Bucky to be at a party. He detested these things, and you were quite aware, but perhaps he was convinced, warned, or bullied into attending. In your opinion, it was good for him to socialize.

The party was lavish, and you really looked very out of place. Needing to get out of there as soon as possible, your hurried gaze settled on the one person you were here for, Bucky, the grumpy Barnes.

As soon as you felt the involuntary smile appear on you, it disappeared quicker than that. A gorgeous girl in a long blue dress was talking to Bucky animatedly, leaning closer to him, and the worst thing was that he was smiling, too. The dirty insecurities you locked up in the corner of your mind swam to the forefront.

Imagination is the worst enemy sometimes because it knows your dirty secrets and plays the field like a champ.

You were not one to feel terrible about yourself; you were pretty confident, too. But lately, things had been messed up in the upstairs department thanks to the feelings you festered for a blue-eyed man, which you were pretty sure was one-sided.

~

"Why are you frowning?" Bucky's voice startled you from behind.

Fuck! When did he walk all across from there and creep behind you. Were you staring at her that long?

"I'm not." You defended, turning around to face him. He wore a beautiful black jacket, and his metal arm glinted underneath the expensive golden ambiance. He looked rugged, the slight confusion drawing your eyes to his beautiful blues. He was breathtakingly gorgeous and hot. He looked you up and down slowly and then held your gaze, it spread heat over your face so quickly that it was quite embarrassing.

"Why are you all dolled up?" He asked, his head tilted to the side, with a gentle twinkle in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes dramatically.

Fortunately--unfortunately--the same pretty girl interrupted his teasing, and you mentally groaned but gave her a gentle smile. She smiled at you, introducing herself. She was sweet; they'd make a good pair, and maybe she'd be good for him, your rational mind offered, but your heart clenched at your thoughts.

So, you were glad your phone rang at that point despite it being a spam commercial. You didn't give Bucky or the girl another chance to talk as you rushed out of there, mumbling, 'I gotta take this,' with a good fake smile.

When you found an empty couch in the lobby, you collapsed into it unceremoniously, overcome by your emotions. You took a few deep breaths and pulled the gift-wrapped book from your bag. Looking up at you, the dark gift wrapper with the golden pattern seemed to mock you.

When shopping at Target last week, you realized the gift cover resembled something similar to his Vibranium arm. You all but squealed as you picked it. The scribbles on the neatly folded card have been edited more than you could count. Ugh!

You felt pathetic. If Bucky figured the lengths you'd gone to get that gift, he would cringe, probably get scared, and most likely never talk to you. Objectively, that sounded good, but your heart tugged with unease.

This was such a fucking bad idea.

Maybe you could give it to Bucky anonymously and leave it somewhere for him to find. That prospect sounded good. With that resolve, you decided to move away from the couch and slip out of the room unnoticed, but the damn timing of Sam Wilson almost made you bitchcry.

"Hey, there. Where have you been? We've been looking for you for so long." He said, settling beside you.

"Hey, Sam," you smiled, not very enthusiastically.

"Why the long face? Mission was that bad?" He asked. You shrugged. His gaze shifted to the gift in your hand.

"Oh, the gift, what did you get him? Honestly, I should take the gift. He's got about more than eight phone numbers already." Sam spoke curiously, looking at the gift, entirely unaware he was just adding fuel to your agony.

Yep, the gift was a bad bad decision.

You wondered if Bucky would turn up his charm and start dating the pretty girl in the blue dress. Knowing your one-sided love story lacked any buttress was one thing, but the minute plausibility of Bucky Barnes dating someone was heart-wrenchingly painful.

You shrugged, giving Sam the same fake smile you'd been mastering.

Now that Sam saw the gift, you had to turn it in. "I'm super tired, and my bed is calling me. Give him this, will you?" You hand him the gift. Sam looked confused, wanting to say something, but you left hurriedly without another word.

In retrospect, you contemplated the gift as you drove to your apartment; it didn't have to be as important as you were giving value to it. You could shrug and tell Bucky it was just a book you found in one of those random shops. And that thought process gave you the semblance of control, even momentarily.

~

When Sienna or Sierra--the woman's name he entirely missed--tried to get his attention, Bucky sighed in displeasure, rubbing his face with his metal arm, hoping that would be enough for her to leave him alone. She'd been telling him about the rooftop Italian restaurant for about five minutes straight ever since he nodded at her politely when he mistakenly stood by her table, not knowing it was occupied.

Steve was suddenly called out on some mission, and Bucky would have gone, but he wanted to stay back. He didn't tell Steve why, but he bet Steve understood when he gave Bucky a shit-eating grin. Stupid punk.

And Sam was annoying Bucky, so much so that Bucky asked him to fuck off, and Sam had listened to him maybe for the first time ever, and now he was fucking bored out of his mind. He was itching to go to the hangar knowing that you were back from the mission, as he was constantly checking with Agent Ryan, the one in charge of your mission, for updates.

But when he saw you near the lobby, Bucky's breath hitched. You were gone for three days. It'd been three days too long since he saw you. Three insanely long days to bear.

You hadn't noticed him yet, and Bucky took his time scanning to see if you were injured. However, he had already checked if there had been any injuries with Agent Ryan, and thankfully you were fine.

Trouble, yeah, that's what you were to him. How you managed to look so fucking pretty in that plain t-shirt and pants was beyond him. Bucky was in it too deep. He waited a minute too long, hoping stupidly that you were here for him. When he noticed you staring in his general direction, but with a frown, he excused himself, desperately wanting to know what happened. Were you hurt somewhere and did not report?

When he walked closer, he realized your frown only deepened, but you were unaware of his presence. Something was wrong with you, and you were not telling. You had been acting that way for some time now, shutting him off. Bucky abhorred feeling that way.

When he followed you out, you were already gone without a goodbye. He felt his throat tighten in anticipation. Were you tired, or was it something else? Bucky stood confused and slightly terrified. He wondered if you realized what he was up to, that he was keeping tabs on you. Did Ryan tell you about his talk? No, Ryan wouldn't do that.

Sam caught him halfway through, grinning wildly with a gift in his hands. Bucky rolled his eyes, not wanting to interact with him but needing to follow you.

"Not now, Sam," Bucky said, rushing out, irritated at being unable to run. It would startle people, and he didn't want that kind of attention or fear in the people. Some were still edgy, like anticipating he would lose control and become the winter soldier. It pained him to no end.

"Okay then, I'm gonna keep this gift y/n wanted to give you," Sam chuckled.

Bucky stopped in his tracks. You brought him a gift. Of course you did. His heart thumped wildly as he turned, hoping that his face didn't give away too much because God knows Sam will figure it out and Steve would inadvertently know, and man, he couldn't handle two of them beating his ass to ask you out.

"I told her I should keep the gift. You got so many numbers anyway," Sam chuckled, handing him the neatly wrapped gift.

His heart tugged at that. Why did Sam say that to you? He wasn't even interested in any of them, and more importantly, it was Sam who had pulled the phone out of his hands and given it to those women to enter their numbers. He had deleted them right after, frowning at Sam as soon as they left. Did Sam reveal that part to you?

Bucky was livid, and he wanted to give Sam a piece of his mind.

He was not really proud that sometimes Bucky wanted to see if you got jealous because, sure as hell, his blood boiled if someone as much came close to you. But he never tested his theory. It was hilarious to think that you could ever get jealous. To Bucky, you were the most beautiful person. You could walk out in rags, and his eyes would still gravitate to you. You were literally his grounding point, and he was so fucking in love, it would probably scare you if you ever came to realize.

"I'm tired," Bucky bid bye to Sam despite wanting to ask or beat it out of Sam what all you talked about, but he focused his attention on the gift in hand, eager to open it.

"Everyone's tired," Sam complained from behind. He didn't respond as he felt the insides of the gift.

He wondered if you got him another silly gift. He didn't mind if it was either. The bright pink keychain holder sitting on the kitchen aisle of his bleak apartment was the proof. He liked that you thought of him in whatever capacity. Also, it made him fucking joyful.

He wondered how you would react if you came to know that the neon green therapy buddy band you gave him, which he wore religiously to sleep every night, helped him sleep. Steve found it a few days ago and narrowed his eyes, fully knowing who had given the gift, but Bucky evaded the conversation since that incident.

You would surely be on your way home, and maybe a pit stop at Berno's for Pizza, Bucky wondered. When he sat on his motorbike and opened the gift carefully, he didn't know what to expect, but it was definitely not this: The first edition of the Hobbit. He was on the verge of tears.

Fucking hell, sweetheart!

He groaned loudly, probably scaring the bird perched on the twig beside him.

All he truly wanted to do was kiss you and yell at you all the same. He knew it costed a fortune because he tried to enquire about it when you both went to that Book Fest a few months ago.

Tethered to his insecurities, all his doubts were peeling away slowly but surely, all thanks to you. However surreal it sounded, he hoped you felt for him in some way, though he prayed you did feel for him as much as he did.

Or why would you constantly test his resolve like this otherwise? The rational part of his brain provided another factually appropriate answer: You were the most kind-hearted woman he'd known in his entire life, and it's a long life.

Last Christmas Eve, when Steve convinced you to come, Bucky loved and hated that you bought him and the others gifts. You were so kind and attentive. You met Steve and Sam only a few times, but you had gifted Steve a beautiful sketching set, which made Steve blush like a fool, and an automated multipurpose tool for Sam's wings. You even got Nat and Wanda a scarf and Tony a digital greeting card that was projected from the tiny Iron Man figurine. Tony was shocked and elated and gave you permanent access to the lobby kitchen, which was a pretty big deal for Tony.

You got Bucky a sweater; it made him reminisce about Christmas when he was young, and he forgot how it felt.

He forgot how home felt.

But ever since Wakanda, Steve did ensure going annoyingly out of the way to celebrate Christmas. Bucky wanted to wear the sweater when you gave it to him, but he restrained himself.

He even got you a small pendant with a tiny sun and a couple of sunflowers on either side, which truthfully, he got it made in May for your birthday but didn't find the courage to give you then, so he held on to it and gifted it on the day of Christmas.

It was purely stupid how he kept you away from Sam and Steve after that because Steve blushed six ways from Sunday when he saw his Christmas present, and Sam had downright hugged you. Bucky had to reign in his growl and not peel Sam away from you.

Bucky knew they were just friendly because they teased him with you, and Steve always had a shit-eating grin when you were around, but he couldn't simply take any chance. So, after that, he would say you were busy whenever they asked to invite you for an outing.

Bucky knew that was lame, but he feared if you spent time with his friends, you might eventually like one of them, and he couldn't compete with an average person, let alone someone like Steve or Sam. So, he kept you at bay.

When Bucky first met you, he hated that you were babysitting him. He didn't like that idea. You always greeted him with a bright smile and kindness; he felt undeserving. He evaded you like the plague, but you were fucking persistent. He eventually gave up not liking you running around with a broken arm for him despite looking as adorable as you did.

You respected his boundaries and let him be himself, just pushing enough. You understood him without having to say a word. You discarded Dr. Raynor's list once you felt his unease. You realized how he felt about crowded places and started taking him to places in the less rush hour. You took him to your favorite stargazing spot when he had a meltdown one evening. Bucky cried, sitting under the stars, and you gave him space, walking back to the car, saying you needed some water.

You didn't press him to talk or asked him how he was feeling or if he wanted to discuss it. Ever so often, you glanced over at him with a quiet reassurance that said he didn't have to be anything other than what he was at that moment. You simply let him be, and he never felt lonely.

When he was first asked to train the recruits, Bucky didn't know how to tell you that he felt nervous, but you understood and accompanied him, sitting through the training.

What took the cake was the day you punched that drunk asshole who passed some comments on him. Bucky was used to it, but you were livid, and he was too stunned to stop you. He felt so many mixed emotions that day that it shook him to no end. You stirred his senses in every fucking way deemed possible. With one prolonged eye lock, he would feel balmy all over. He was scared of the way his body was reacting to you.

Slowly but eventually, he realized you were a blessing to his tainted existence and loved you irrevocably. He didn't know how to go about it.

Bucky wondered if he could live a day when you loved him like he did. He hoped every damn moment despite feeling selfish to even pray for someone like you. Pushing his thoughts aside before spiraling into an anxious mess, he quickly started his bike and followed the well-versed route to your home.

~

It was funny how helpless you felt sitting by your apartment door when, not even a few hours ago, you were hanging off buildings with your colleagues to save civilians. You lost your house keys and, most likely, left them back in your locker at the compound. Generally, your house keys were attached to your car keys, but you replaced the car key recently and forgot to put the spare apartment keys to it.

It was no big deal; all you had to do was call the emergency services or the building supervisor, and they would come with the master keys. But your phone was out of charge, and you really didn't want to wake your neighbors. You looked at your watch blink 1:20 AM, which was the last straw as you slid by your door, throwing your backpack beside you, and pulled your knees closer to feel a bit cozy. Despite the warm March weather, you felt cold.

Everything caught up to you, and you burst into tears, feeling the dull ache in your body from the mission, mentally exhausted from overwhelming, unrequited thoughts for Bucky. You felt terrified and troubled.

All you wished for at that moment was to cuddle up in your bed and forget about everything. You groaned loudly as you got up determined, telling yourself to get your shit together. You probably needed to sleep in your car or return to the compound to get your keys. You wiped away your tears, fiercely picked up your backpack, and walked towards the elevator.

To your utter shock, the elevator doors opened to reveal none other than your resident mental occupant in all his tall handsomeness.

"Why are you crying?" Bucky demanded, in a tone you were very much used to, as he stepped out and looked at you keenly with concern. You stood there shocked, sniffing, unsure if you were dreaming or if he was really standing before you.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned him instead.

He didn't answer as he took another step closer, and pulled your left forearm in his gloved palm, and looked up and down your modest hallway, estimating any potential dangers. He always did that, sometimes so subtly you wondered if he was consciously aware even.

"What happened?" He asked again, his tone a bit more authoritative, and you sighed, feeling the warmth from his gloved hand. It singed your skin with so many fucking feelings you pulled away from him quickly.

"Lost my keys," you told him, wiping away the tears, feeling embarrassed to be caught in your turmoil of irrationality.

"That's it?" Bucky asked, and there was no mocking in his tone. Despite trying to read into his every word, he was just asking out of concern and hoping there was no looming danger you were escaping from.

You shrugged. "Why didn't you call me?" He asked like you were absolutely stupid not to think about it.

"If my phone didn't die on me, I would be inside my home right now, James," you quipped angrily.

A small, almost nonexistent grin appeared on his face. You knew how much he hated when you called him James in that mocking way Dr. Raynor called him, but you did it anyway.

He snatched your bag, "Hey," you shouted at him in disbelief.

"Come on." He demanded, and you stood confused.

"Where?" you asked.

But he didn't answer as he walked to your front door, squatting down with one knee on the ground, he removed something from his pocket.

All your earlier anger died, and you looked at him aghast.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You hissed.

He looked at you from where he was sitting with an eyebrow raised. Bucky chuckled, working on the knob with something small, obscured in his huge palm.

Honestly, you knew he was more than capable of tearing down the damn door from its hinges. So, you were merely grateful he didn't do it.

You wondered what he was doing here. Wasn't he supposed to be at the party?

~~~~~

Becoming one with each other is only possible with a dollop of happy accidents.

Bucky could almost see the questions swirling in your head. Truthfully, he hardly gave any thought to what he would accomplish when he saw you.

He simply hopped on his bike and rode through the night air. It was purely instinctive. To ensure you made it home safe, and maybe just maybe, if he did muster up some courage and knocked on your door this late at night, he would demand answers to why you would gift him the book.

But when he saw you behind those elevator doors, his heart dropped. He quickly caught onto your state, holding in the rage to inquire first what hurt you. He physically had to rein himself not to pull you into his arms. You looked so distressed it chipped his heart.

He was somewhat thankful you lost your keys because that delayed your questioning of his presence there.

When he knelt before your door, you were beyond shocked. He held the doorknob with the Vibranium hand, and you rushed forward, fearing he would break the door.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You whisper-shouted at him. He looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you.

"We are not trespassing. This is your home," he stated.

You rolled your eyes exasperatedly as you bend over his shoulder, looking at what he was up to when he shuffled in his wallet and pulled a small plier with his right hand.

"Don't break the knob," you warned him, crouching over his shoulder. One of your stray hairs escaped the clutches of the loose bun you tied, touching his right cheek and tickling his senses. Bucky gulped audibly.

"Do you mind?" He groaned, his voice coming out more irritated than intended. You stood up and pouted slightly, stepping to the side and leaned onto the wall beside the door. He had another quip ready on his tongue as he followed your suit, standing up, his metal palm fisting the knob.

When he looked at you, you stared up into his eyes with scrunched brows and a slight pout, looking so fucking adorable he could damn well kiss you right there against your front door, and no one could stop him. But he held back, instead twisting the knob and opening the door wide. "You underestimate me, doll," he rasped, licking his lips and clearing his throat.

~

You looked sideways, feeling a shit ton of gratitude for Bucky's exemplary sneaking skills.

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you dragged yourself inside. Bucky followed you inside without hesitation. This was probably the second time he was here. The familiar sense of home enveloped him as he glanced around. Hardly anything changed, and it was just like how he saw it initially, except maybe a few more plants were added to the hall.

You took a few more steps inside and turned around suddenly.

"What are you doing here, Bucky?" You asked him as you ran a hand through your hair, adjusting the mess. But again, Bucky saw you in much worse state, so, you let your hair be.

He didn't say a word as he put down your bag beside the coffee table and took small steps toward you, looking at you with such intensity that it made you shiver. He pulled the familiar wrapped book from inside his jacket pocket, and your eyes widened involuntarily.

'Act cool,' You chastised yourself.

Bucky's blue eyes held your gaze as he stepped closer, engulfing your senses. Your neck strained looking at him.

"Why?" his soft voice belied his stormy gaze.

You stepped back, but his right-hand snaked around your waist, stopping you from taking another step. He didn't pull you close. No, but the hand remained softly and painstakingly still.

You realized how fucking gorgeous he looked even this closely. "Bucky," you started, licking your lips and clearing your throat to muster confidence.

"Are you drunk?" you asked as that was the first thing that popped into your head. His brows raised in surprise at your question before a small smile formed on his face.

"No, just wanted to make sure you are okay. You left the party before we finished talking," Bucks said, still not moving an inch. That party brought images of the blue-dress lady, and your insecurities swam back to the surface. You tried to step away, and this time, he let you.

"Thanks for checking in on me. I'm totally fine…umm…thanks for the door, too. If it wasn't for you…," you chuckled humorlessly, wondering how long it would have been for you to get back into your apartment. Bucky stared at you, listening to you intently, eyes searching your every expression. When you shut up, he leaned on the backside of the couch, crossing his legs at his ankles. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up more, before folding his arms on his chest and staring at you.

You focused on the snake plant on the other side of the living room, trying not to look at the handsome man casually taking up your literal and figurative space. How long had it been since you watered it? It looked fine and healthy, but maybe you should look closer.

"Hey," his voice inevitably pulled your focus back on him.

"Why did you give me this?" he asked more affirmatively. You bit your lip from groaning out loud.

What do you even say?

"It's your birthday, Barnes," you declared with a chuckle as if he was unaware of the occasion. He rolled his eyes, exasperated, and sighed.

"Is it?" He scoffed. You nodded innocently. After a whole minute, he straightened up, wary of your behavior, as you stared back at him and did not give him any quirky replies.

"I'll let you rest," he sighed and walked towards the door. You were slightly relieved but momentarily felt the need to stop him from leaving. It was almost like he heard your inner battle because he abruptly turned to you.

You gasped at the suddenness and let your well-practiced, impassive look slip.

Bucky seemed to read you: the vulnerability and the need. Because the very next second, you were pressed on the wall near your kitchen entrance.

You let out an ungraceful squeak as he placed his metal arm beside you and crouched down to your eye level.

"No," he said, and you look at him stunned.

"No?" you repeated. Bucky nodded, licking his lips. Your eyes moved to them. Blue. Beautifully so.

"We are going to talk," he stated, pushing your hair behind your ear. Despite the gloves, his touch serenaded your skin, and you gasped, breathing in sharply. His eyes darkened, and he parted his lips, tracing his fingers underneath your chin. His intoxicating breath swept your senses.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

"You are so fucking gorgeous, doll," he said almost in a throaty whisper, and you looked at him, feeling the desperate need to close the gap between you.

A semblance of control took over you, and you cleared your throat, "You sure you're not high on something?" you whispered, your mind dizzy with sensation as he leaned his forehead onto you. Your body loses ground, gravitating towards him. He held you steady. His breath seemed ragged, too.

"I'm sure as hell high on you, sweetheart," his fingers traced your cheek, running a hot trail onto your throat as he pushed his huge palm on your heart, teetering on engulfing your left boob almost. Almost. You let out a moan, feeling the ringing in your ears and the heat spreading your cheeks.

"I like listening to this," he said softly.

Why was he doing this to you? You would combust into flames if he tortured you anymore. By the look of it, it seemed like he was attracted to you, but your heart didn't want to accept that fact just yet.

"James," you all but cry.

"You seriously gonna call me that, huh," he laughed, pushing his forehead an inch away, slightly rubbing his nose on yours.

You had a rational thought to push him away and protect yourself, but you were viciously woven with everything that was Bucky.

"Tell me," he demanded, placing a soft peck on your cheek and leaning onto your right ear, lips dancing on your skin, making you slick with want and desperation for him.

"You feel this too, don't you? It would be more than enough for me if you even remotely like me...I...I love you so much, sweetheart," he whispered, with a tinge of sadness in his tone.

It tugged at your heart.

He loved you.

Bucky loved you.

Your heart might burst in joy. So, all this while you were living in a stupid bubble of self-loathing while you could have confessed your feelings for him.

Frickin frack! Mother of Hallmark, stupid drama-loving life.

"Bucky…," your own eyes blurred with emotions and frustration.

"No, tell me… 'coz sure as hell your job description didn't have you to punch that moron that day, to nurture me back to life, to save me from myself...someone like me..." he breathed, his jaw clenched unable to finish his thought. You could see he was holding back his tears.

You looked at him sharply, shaking your head. "Don't say that, please," the tears escaped your eyes freely now.

He gave you a gentle smile, rubbing your tears away and kissing your forehead before looking into your eyes. His metal arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close to him gently.

It felt like he knew your answer already, but he was waiting for you to say it out loud, and you were marshaling everything in you to speak because, dear heavens, you were breathless.

"Come on, doll…put me out of this fucking misery," he groaned, lips ghosting yours.

"I love you," you told him. "Bucky, you have no idea how much, god you are so fucking annoying, but you are everything and more," you nodded at him. He chuckled, his vision glassy just like yours as he gently rubbed your lower back and his forehead on yours before looking into your eyes.

"I can be yours forever?" He asked with a hopeful, teary smile, and you laughed. Bucky Barnes was such a dork, and you were a simp for him. You nodded eagerly, and he leaned forward, cupping your jaw firmly and pecked your lips. The sensation was so overwhelming. It was almost like a fire was lit.

Bucky growled, tightening his hold on you, and you leaned forward eagerly, engulfed by his senses and his smell, which was so intoxicatingly warm and nice. The next kiss was nothing gentle; it was so intense that you had to grip his short hair with one hand and the other, taking hold of his jacket lapel.

When you broke the kiss, you looked at him sharply.

He pulled away slightly. "You good, sweetheart? 'Coz, I really couldn't tell if you were going to yell at me or kiss me again," he whispered teasingly, a slight twinkle in his eyes. You groaned, pulling him into another kiss, and he almost lost his balance as he placed one arm on the wall to steady your both.

God! He tasted divine!

When you broke away from the kiss, you chuckled tearfully, watching his glassy eyes fill with emotion.

"You're crying, Bucky? Was it that bad, or are you just overwhelmed by how irresistible I am?" You remarked, still fully dazed from Bucky's intoxicating presence.

Bucky smacked his lips and rolled his eyes playfully, caressing your cheek. Your bottom lip quivered as his thumb ran over it.

"I love you," he told you, and your heart fluttered, listening to him confess again.

"You look a little stunned there, too, doll. Don't worry, it's mutual, "he chuckled, pecking your lips again; he tasted so addicting you couldn't help but moan in that daze, and when he squeezed your waist, you yelped a bit louder than intended.

He suddenly shifted, and you looked at him surprised. A frown formed on his perfectly gorgeous face. "You are hurt," he said and experimentally ran his hand over your back, and you clenched your back in pain.

"Of course not," you lied through your teeth, not wanting the moment to end.

The sudden shift of his expression was comical. It gave you a whiplash.

"You are such a pain in my ass," he groaned as he carefully lifted you up and took you to the couch. You squealed holding his shoulders.

"Bucky, I'm not that hurt. Put me down," you shuffled, but he didn't let go until you were seated on the couch.

"Show me," he demanded as he squatted before you.

"Geee... Ask me out on a coffee at least before you demand me to strip," you remarked, and the way he blushes made you double down with laughter.

He rolled his eyes and looked at you sharply. "Always a grump," You grumbled, turning to your side and lifting your shirt slightly.

He loves you. He loves you. Your brain chanted for you, and your joy knew no bounds.

"Does it hurt here?" Bucky asked, with one arm gently holding you on the shoulder.

You thought of lying but sighed, "Just a bit."

"It's not swollen, so that's good," he said, pushing the shirt down.

Such a gentleman.

You smiled, and he looked at you with a shy grin.

"Come here," you said, hugging him to your heart's content. Bucky's broad shoulders and arms wrapped you in his big frame, making you feel all cozy and tiny.

"Best birthday present ever," he whispered, gently kissing your shoulder and enveloping you in his arms as he settled on the couch, pulling you onto his lap gently.

"Happy Birthday, Sergeant Barnes," you added, and he chuckled, placing another kiss on your hair.

~

Bucky never gave much thought to what he wore as long as his metal arm was covered, but right now, he felt out of depth as he stared at his closet. He had two formal shirts and three pairs of jeans. The other four were T-shirts. Deciding to go with the blue T-shirt and the leather jacket you got him, he rode to your place swiftly, wanting to be near you.

Last night, he didn't realize when he fell asleep in your arms, and it was the most peaceful he had slept in years. When he woke up in the morning, he was covered in a warm blanket that smelled like you, and he thought he was dreaming when you leaned down and placed a small peck on his cheek, wishing him good morning with a bright smile.

You made him coffee and breakfast, and he felt exhilarated; the sense of belongingness and home engulfed him. Ever since you first met, you always gave him boxes of food, and it became a habit at this point, but today, it felt different.

It was different.

When you looked at him with that smile as you sipped on your coffee, he couldn't help but pull you in for another kiss, knowing you were his. It was a supreme feeling, and he didn't want that feeling to end. He whispered 'I love you' against your lips for the third time as he left your place, promising to get dinner that night. "It's a date," he told you firmly, and you nodded eagerly.

Bucky sped to you. And when you opened the door, his eyes widened. You had worn a dark red dress that flowed around your waist and a denim jacket on your shoulders. You looked ethereal with your hair down.

He sighed dreamily, and you chuckled shyly, a blush tinging your cheeks. "Alright, enough with that face, Bucky," you said, shutting your door.

Everything felt new but familiar.

~

When you opened the door, Bucky stood there, dressed in a casual but perfectly fitted dark jacket you gifted for his birthday over a blue Henley and jeans highlighting his broad shoulders.

He looked gorgeous.

At your awkwardness at his dreamy look, he let out a laugh and pulled you closer, giving you a deep and thorough kiss that made your tummy flutter and panties drench and probably would have scarred Jenny on your floor if she lingered outside.

Bucky was a sinful kisser.

When you looked up and smiled at him, he kissed you again.

"Oh, shit...forgot these...here," he handed a bouquet. Your eyes widened at the gesture.

"You didn't have to, Bucky," you said dreamily, looking at the flowers and then at him. The last time you got flowers was probably when you graduated college and your parents gave them to you. It was funny you got all shy when he looked at you that way.

Bucky frowned. "Of course, I have to," he said, and your heart skipped a beat.

"I love them," you said to him, kissing his cheek. "Hold on, lemme put them in the water."

~

The setting sun crafted soft and vibrant hues, hinting at the promise of an even more perfect night. Bucky and you walked together a million times but the walk to the restaurant this time felt so different. It was thrilling and you were literally floating. Bucky held you close, gripping your hand in his warm hold.

The two of you decided on a small, cozy restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets, where the lights were slightly dimmer than the usual restaurants you used to usually go. The space was intimate, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air as you were led to your table near a window overlooking the softly lit street.

You both ordered easily, the familiarity of the connection for almost an year coming through. The conversation flowed naturally as you talked about everything and nothing: childhood stories, awkward teenage moments, favorite movies, and the silliest fears. You swapped funny moments from the therapy sessions you'd both been reluctantly pulled into. He told you all about what he felt when he first met you.

You loved watching him so vulnerable and happy. He was more relaxed, teasing you gently and smiling with that boyish charm that made your heart twitch in the best way. You noticed the small things: the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and his long legs framing yours. He'd pressed them into yours, in a caressing touch.

As you finished your meal, Bucky glanced outside, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk.

Bucky, looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes, "You up for a walk? It's too nice out to head home just yet."

"Yeah, let's go," you eagerly agreed.

The cool evening breeze brushed against your skin, and Bucky's warmth blanketed you cozily. The city was alive but not too overwhelming, just a gentle hum of life as people strolled by or sat at outdoor cafés, lost in their own worlds. Bucky walked beside you, his hand squeezing yours, each touch sending a small spark up your arm--and to other parts.

As you reached the waterfront, the city lights reflected off the gentle ripples of the river, creating a shimmering path that stretched into the distance. You walked slowly--Bucky, with his long legs did walk slower--the sound of water lapping softly against the pier and the faint chatter of distant conversations blending into a soothing symphony.

You found a bench nestled near the pier's edge and sat down side by side. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of saltwater and the occasional breeze that lifted the ends of your hair. For a moment, you were content to just sit there, enjoying the serene view and the quiet company.

Bucky pulled you impossibly closer, intertwining his fingers with you and pecking your forehead. For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching the city come alive with twinkling lights and the occasional sound of a passing boat.

Bucky gazed at you, his expression soft and thoughtful.

He leaned forward, pulling your waist a bit, twisting you towards him.

"You look so pretty," he whispered, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was supposed to be sweet, but the look you shared had him pulling you onto his lap, and you willingly complied, your dress inching up.

You could feel his hardness underneath all your layers, and you rolled your hips instinctively. He grunted at the feeling, clenching his jaw. His hand lingered on your thigh, and when you kissed him more, carding your fingers through his hair, he didn't hesitate to move his hands inside your dress, fingers trailing up and cup your ass, helping you move on him. He let out a low growl, and you bit his lip. He looked at you with a sly grin when you slowly opened your eyes.

"I should say sorry, but I'm really not," he winked at you, and you giggled, leaning to hide in the crook of his neck.

"But I think we will be arrested if we are caught. Plus, I don't want anyone to see you like this, and I think someone is coming," Bucky remarked, gently sitting you down beside him. You chuckled, licking your lips, adjusting your dress. Bucky ran a hand over your hair.

You set his jacket lapel straight, which you clutched in a death grip not a moment ago.

~

Apt to say Bucky was touch starved and ever since you confessed your love, he didn't hesitate to pull you into long bear hugs or kiss you senselessly.

Being with Bucky Barnes was a dream, surely, but equally damn frustrating. Initially, it was a bit overwhelming, and despite the heated make-out on your first date, he was still taking things slow, and you didn't want to hurry him.

You reeled in the need to climb him up like a tree or push his hands a little further down when they lingered on your chest, but you were aware he was still working on things and pushing him too much would worsen things for him. You didn't want to rush him whatsoever and were willing to take whatever he gave. He'd been through so much, and you want him to control the pace and not let your lust-hazed mind take the reins.

So, you were delighted when he pushed you back down on the couch and kissed you senselessly. Both of you were watching the TV, and one thing led to another, and you were dry-humping. He wound your leg around his back and breathed on you warmly. It sent a shiver down your spine the way he moaned.

And you were on the precipice when his phone rang, spilling a cold bucket of water on the moment. So, Bucky left reluctantly, not before pressing you against the door and kissing you like he was deprived, and then he smiled at you so softly, whispering I love you; it made you want to throw a fit.

He was so fucking perfect despite testing every bit of your resolve.

All you could do was take care of yourself after that rough make-out session; the memory of his hardness, hips rolling with force, made you want to tear down his pants and taste him. You wondered if he took care of his huge problem when he was in the confines of his apartment.

You groaned, imagining those callous hands running down his length and slowly inching inside your wet heat, stroking you the right way and the coil in your stomach built.

"Oh, shit," you moaned into the pillow, clutching the sheets in a death grip and feeling the tightness build in your belly.

Bucky Barnes was a walking sinful creature and dear God, you want to sin between those legs.

That image in your head brought your orgasm tumbling down. You let the vibrator fall away and sighed, turning on your back and normalizing your breath.

You heard a raspy chuckle, and you shrieked.

Sitting up straight, you covered your front with the blanket, thinking it was just a bad dream and Bucky was not really standing there at the door watching you like a hawk.

He looked at you from head to toe, and took a step closer. Your heart beat out of your chest, crescending on the verge of bursting.

What the hell was he doing here? Didn't he leave? When did he come back? Fuck!

Humiliation was a bad color, and currently, you were coated to a T.

"Bucky," you whispered, grappling at the fact he was actually standing there, looking intensely at you, and you hoped you didn't conjure any image.

He licked his lips, biting on the lower one, and your eyes inadvertently locked onto his stormy gaze.

What you felt at that moment was incomprehensible. The shameful feeling had your tummy fluttering, and your heart tugged as he didn't say a thing.

Did you just lose respect in Bucky's eyes? Should you maybe say something or laugh it off?

But--thankfully--he made the decision for you, and your throat ran dry.

Bucky had an impassive look as he took a few steps closer, still not saying a word. He discarded his jacket and threw it to the side without care, which took you by surprise because he looked so composed otherwise.

You felt the heat spread across your face, and your ears rang slightly, the post-orgasmic haze long gone, replaced by a feeling of being on edge, which you were not sure whether you liked or not.

Bucky pulled the chair from your writing desk. He lifted it with one hand, placed it closer to the side of your queen bed, and picked up the lavender vibrator that you discarded not so long ago, all the while not breaking eye contact.

His lips twisted in something that was a smug grin.

You held onto the blanket like your life depended on it, very well aware that you were stark naked underneath the covering. He sat back on the chair, almost dwarfing it. Your thighs clenched at the unapologetic way he dragged his eyes along the length of your body. Bucky leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He curiously studied the vibrator.

You gulped, breath coming out ragged, when you noticed the tick in his jaw. Bucky let out a dark chuckle.

"Thought you were in pain, sweetheart. I almost tore down the front door," he said, and a smirk adorned his face.

You looked at Bucky guiltily, "But you were just playing with yourself," he cooed at you with hooded eyes, making your tummy flutter. You could feel the slick running down your thighs, "Bucky," you whispered, throat dry as he sat back comfortably, twirling the vibrator between his metal fingers.

He sat back, manspreading on the tiny chair, his form engulfing it. He curled two fingers up and gestured forward. Obeying him without a word, you inched closer, still clutching the blanket, wanting, needing to straddle him and kiss him.

Bucky's look was unwavering as he picked you up, holding your bare ass and settled you on him with the blanket still covering your front. He let out a deep growl that you felt resonating in his chest as you held him for support. You gasped at the feel of his bulging cock in his pants.

He pulled you impossibly closer, and you could literally feel the warmth of his entire body engulfing you. He rubbed one of his hands on the bare skin of your back, leaving your skin burning, yearning. His darkened blues crinkled, promising you dirty things.

Your humiliation dripped away into arousal when he finally pulled you in for a kiss. It was just like the one he gave you before he left, intense with all tongue and teeth. Bucky's fingers carded through your hair, and he pulled you by your nape; the slight, painful tug made you moan without trepidation.

Breaking the kiss, he licked his lips, and they part slightly as he breathed heavily. He placed open-mouth kisses on your jaw and all the way to your throat, and you felt the need for his lips on yours again.

"My pretty girl," he rasped in your ear, nipping at your lobe, and you let out a loud cry at the sensation. He groaned eagerly, pulling you into another kiss, and the way his tongue moved made you whine in need, wanting to feel his hands on you, in you. He let out a grunt, pulling back and looking at you.

"Were you thinking of me when you played with yourself?" he demanded, his voice a few octaves lower, soft with a slight twinkle in his eyes and his demeanor a bit too intense. You bit your lip, hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Yes," you whispered, unable to meet his intense gaze.

Bucky hummed, pleased with the answer. He kissed you gently on your bare shoulder. His scruff felt delectable as he nipped your exposed skin. He tugged at the blanket gently, and you straightened in his lap. Bucky didn't pull it out of your grasp but waited for you, and when you loosened the grip on the blanket, he smiled at you almost dreamily, letting it fall in your lap, covering just your upper thighs and pussy.

He looked down hungrily, licking his lips and looked up at you again, asking for permission. And if you were in a better mind, you'd have rolled your eyes, but you simply nodded eagerly.

"These are mine," he said, looking up from your tits. You would have said, 'Everything is yours, Bucky,' but your throat was parched.

You nodded, agreeing enthusiastically, waiting for him to touch you in any way. His hand went to your ass, and he lifted you slightly and kissed your right tit, and you let out a satisfied cry. He nuzzled his cheek, running his sharp nose on the skin, applying a bit of pressure before he took your left boob into his mouth entirely and sucked, running his tongue on your nipple. You gasped pathetically as you fisted his hair and shirt in a strong vice.

"Umm," he moaned, feeling far too lost as he kept sucking and lapping at your tit.

Holy shit, you could come just like this!

You felt him harden some more as he rolled his hips upward, and you felt the friction on you just the right way as you grinded down on him, wanting to remove the blanket and tear his pants down and suck him dry.

Your one hand traveled down his chest experimentally, nails running down his thin shirt, and he grunted loudly. You rolled your hips once again, and he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back and letting out a throaty moan. Bucky pushed your hips apart, and you whine in displeasure.

He shook his hand as one of his hand massaged your tit, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your pebbled nipple. You were perched on him, with his denim-covered thighs touching your undersides sensually.

"I will give you everything, doll, but before that...," he rasped, running his other hand down the length of your spine and squeezing your ass roughly, making you cry in pleasure.

"Show me," he demanded, pulling you a bit away from him and handing you the vibrator.

Mortification, that's what you felt at the sly way his eyes crinkled. He raised his brows and turned on the vibrator, and the faint buzz filled the silent room.

"Wanna see you make yourself cum for me," he breathed on your jaw, biting it gently, and you moved closer to him, "From up close, doll. You will do that for me, won't you?" he asked quite innocently, toying with your tit running his Vibranium hand on your outer thigh and inching the pooled blanket upwards.

Oh!

You bit your lip in misery. Bucky Barnes was a fucking menace, and he was nowhere close to the innocent gentleman you thought he was. You knew he was charming, but how the fuck did he get to be...all this? You were screwed, in a good way, of course.

He saw you concede and let out a sly grin. "This is obstructing my view," he said, pulling off the blanket. You choked on your breath, gasping as you were now sitting on your fully dressed man while you were buck naked with a vibrator in your hand.

Your man, though. Your man!

You couldn't possibly conjure up such an erotic dream now, could you?

Holy shit! You were not going to last long.

He looked down at your bare pussy, and he moaned needily, grasping your waist and squeezing it, licking his lips and looking at you.

"Fucking pretty and all mine. Go on. Show me. fuck yourself," he ordered, adjusting you on his lap.

Propriety was a long-lost dream at this point. So, when you shyly touched your clit with the vibrator, you whimpered in delight. And Bucky held you grounded on the spot.

Before long, you were lost in the familiar haze, pushing the vibrator inside your slick channel and needing to close your legs for better friction, but his legs and the position he held you in were thwarting you from moving. His right palm stretched on your upper thigh, and he squeezed tightly, leaving red marks all over. He moved his hand to the inner thigh, massaging the skin with a bit more pressure, and you felt your pussy clench in delight, and you just wanted his rough fingers touching you.

He didn't move though.

"Please," you begged. Bucky nodded, pulling you in for another short kiss and looked at you intensely, at the way the vibrator slipped in and out, and the way your slick coated it. He groaned, biting his lower lip. He moved his hand to squeeze your hip while his metal palm rubbed the underside of your tit before squeezing it.

The coldness of his palm, the sensual way he was rubbing your ass, and his presence in general surmounted your senses, and you careened to your orgasm. However, the vibrator died, and you gasped breathlessly, cursing your fate.

Your frustrated cry and his laughter resound in your hazy mind, and he tutted, almost condescendingly, "That's unfortunate," he said with a smug smile. You would have retorted, but your needy mind resigned to begging him instead.

"Touch me, please, Bucky… please," with tears running down your cheeks.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'll smack you if you don't touch me," your frustrated cry earned another chuckle.

"You never have to beg me for anything, doll," he said, fingers inching closer and closer to your pussy, and you waited, tethered on the edge of pleasure.

"Well, maybe sometimes…," he stopped as an afterthought, and you gripped his palm, trying to pull him closer to where you want, but he resisted. "I would love for you to beg," he added, bringing your clutching palm to his mouth. He placed a kiss on the inside of your palm and moved to kiss your fingers; his tongue peeked out slightly as he licked your fingertips.

"Bucky," you gasped as he looked at you with need. He let go of your hand, and ran his rough tips from the middle of your chest to the lower abdomen, halting slightly.

"You got somewhere to be?" he mocked, and you looked at him surprised.

Smug son of a gun!

"So pretty," he said, finally, running his fingers across your slick heat and turning his hand to cup you, palming your aching mound, and his fingertips brushed against your wet channel. He let out a loud, filthy sound as you breathlessly arched your back. He slowly inched his middle finger inside your wet channel until his first knuckle, and you bucked in his lap.

"You are clenching me so tight." He hissed as he looks down dreamily. Bucky's look, the days and days of needing him and the first touch made you reel as your orgasm hit you embarrassingly fast.

Needing to feel him much closer, your hand moved down and lifted his shirt, and he helped you remove it.

"You're perfect," you ran your palm down his chest, admiring him and feeling lucky to be his.

He gazed up at you and grinned shyly.

"She's dripping for me, baby girl," he said, looking at you amazed. "All for you," you told.

That made him snap.

"Fucking right," he said, standing up and pushing the chair away with his foot and depositing you on the bed as he hovered over you with his metal arm beside your head and kissed you senseless, leaving you completely out of breath, his fingers running up and down your pussy lips. His thumb roughly circled the clit while his metal arm caressed your cheek softly, and you wailed in pleasure, rocking your hips into his hand. He moved down to place kisses on your throat, and you mewled, feeling too sensitive. 

He sat on his heels and pulled you up. You squeaked at the way he manhandled you so effortlessly.

"Been dreaming of you for so long," he said, squeezing your thighs and pushing you to arch your back into the air. Bucky's eyes twinkled under the dim light from the lamp when he looked at you. "I love you," he exclaimed softly, kissing your chin and nipping it slightly.

He rubbed his thumb on your clit, and you clenched in need. "I know," he whispered, almost cooing as he gently bit your ear.

"Stop me if it's too much," he said and waited, and you realized he was asking for your consent.

"Yes, Bucky… just fuck me." You cried in need. He pulled your chin, "Look at me," he ordered, pushing his finger inside you and slowly fucked you, and it felt magical.

"Fuck," you shouted, gasping for air as he angled his finger dexterously exploring inside, and you arched off his lap.

"Should I stop?" he asked worriedly, and you looked at him like he was crazy. "No," you wanted to say instead cried in delight.

But when he stopped moving and looked at you with concern, you mustered up your sanity and shook your head. "Keep going, lover boy," you rasped, and he did.

Oh, sweet heaven! He did. Pushing in a bit more, and he chuckled into your mouth, breathing heavily, lips parted.

Bucky looked like a fucking dream. He lowered you down on the bed and moved his finger inside you, angling around to test what made you tick. When you felt the familiar twitch in your lower belly, you wailed out, moaning his name like a prayer.

"So tight. How will you take me, baby? We gotta stretch her nice for me," he grunted, his jaw clenched, still holding your gaze.

"I don't think you'll be able to walk for quite some time. I'll carry you around. I don't mind," Bucky mused thoughtfully, and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure combusted you.

"Eyes on me," he ordered, and you clenched him hard.

You obeyed, staring into his almost darkened eyes and felt the need to please him so badly it appalled you. You arched off the bed as he pushed another finger in completely. You felt his palm flatten on your clit, rubbing sensually. "Aww look how needy she is," he chuckled.

Bucky fucked you with a renewed effort. You scraped your nails on his back, and he clenched his jaw. You tilted your face up and nipped at his jaw gently.

He set a languid pace, and before long, you were clutching his forearm as leverage with both your hands and rolled your hips forward and your orgasm consumed you with such a force that your breath hitched.

Bucky pecked your jaw softly as you came down.

When he massaged your overstimulated clit, you pulled away from him. He let out a satisfied chuckle, and leaned down on you, holding your jaw to look into your eyes. He popped the fingers that just fucked you into his mouth and groaned in pleasure.

Your cheeks flushed as you look at him, shocked and flushed.

"You taste better than plums," Bucky said, nodding to himself. He picked you up, and gently settled you on the pillows like you weigh nothing.

"I need a proper taste," he declared, running his hand on the back of your thigh, bending your leg at the knee and placing it on his right shoulder while holding down the other as he placed his forearm on your stomach, holding you down.

His metal palm ran on the inside of your thigh before you hear the whirring, and he looked at you slyly as he separated your pussy lips and licked his lips. He blew gently, and your pussy fluttered. You let out an unholy pornographic noise.

"You don't have to," you said, suddenly feeling shy.

"It's funny you think I'm doing you a favor," Bucky stated, kissing your clit, and you shrieked. He hovered back up to you, speaking against your mouth. "I've been dying to devour you for a long time, pretty girl, so lie back and let me eat you in peace," he exclaimed, and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you once more before moving down.

"Fucking gorgeous," he whispered. "See for yourself. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me," he prompted. Sitting back on his heels, Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and discarding them somewhere behind. He leaned down and rubbed his nose, "Say, stop, and I will," he promised softly, and you nodded reverently, holding onto every little thing.

"But first," He straightened up, picking up your vibrator and chucked it away to a corner. The vibrator clinked to the corner of your desk and fell down somewhere you couldn't see. "You won't be needing it, I'm here…and that's nothing close to the real deal." He winked at your shocked face. You couldn't help but giggle, but as soon as his mouth descended on your aching and needy pussy, you ascended into your pleasure just as fast.

Bucky Barnes was a fucking handsome grumpy menace. And he was all yours.

Epilogue

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @jvanilly @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog @feynightlight

[big-heart-ninjasblog]

reblog this to remind the person you reblogged it from that theyre loved

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spotify is raising prices again here's the apk that gives you premium for free

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STOP THINKING THERE IS A DEADLINE. THERE IS NO DEADLINE. TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND TAKE YOUR TIME.

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"this fandom is annoying" every fandom is annoying dipshit. it came free with being passionate about something.

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The difference between 👀 and 👁️👁️ to me

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reblog if you need a hug

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the problem with reading and writing leading to a strong vocabulary is that you tend to know the vibe of words instead of their meanings.

if I used this word in a sentence, would it make sense? absolutely. if you asked me what it meant, could I tell you? absolutely not.

[big-heart-ninjasblog]

Y’ever read something and have understanding that has eluded you interminably suddenly stop, curl up, and snuggle neatly into a fold in your brain because a new way way opened to it?

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“a mutual dumping” / “a draw”

requested by anon

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no because i had the same reaction

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Matt Murdock x Reader - Boyfriend Material

Content Warnings/Kinks: teasing, bruising (handprints), hickeys, breast/nipple play, choking, hair pulling, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (male and female receiving), cum swallowing, penetrative vaginal sex (positions: spooning & missionary)

Matt slid his hands up the sides of her body until they reached the edge of her shirt. 

"Please tell me I can take this off" He stated, gesturing to the fabric. 

She whispered a small "yes" and in a flash the shirt was scattered somewhere across the room. Y/n giggled lightly, charmed by her boyfriend's clear enthusiasm. His hands reached higher, skimming her waist before reaching her breasts. She threw her head back as he cupped them through the lace of her bra, squeezing her nipples between his fingers causing her to moan. 

"You like that?" Matt questioned. 

Y/n bent forward until her face was an inch from his, letting her kiss answer his question 

"I think you know that I do" she then added, unbuckling her bra and slipping out of the rest of her clothes until she was naked before him. 

"Touch me?" she asked, giving him the permission she knew he craved. 

Matt's hands returned to her nude form, and this time her senses were heightened by the feeling of his skin on hers. He gripped her ass playfully, he peppered kisses along the length of her stomach. Y/n felt adored like she always did when she was with him. There were three things Matt Murdock took seriously in life 1) work 2) his friends 3) sex. 

Soon, Y/n was completely turned on, she could even feel the moisture slicking her inner thighs getting wetter and wetter the more that Matt touched her. She knew, however, that there was one thing that would make her ever hotter, even more aroused. 

She sunk to her knees and almost as if by instinct Matt spread his legs where he was sitting on the edge of the bed to make room for her. 

"I'm trying to touch you Y/n, don't you want-"

"Nothing's going to turn me on more than having your cock in my mouth" she interrupted his protests, "I want to feel you, I want to taste you, I want you to take this throat and make me remember why it belongs to you"

"Sweetheart..." he groaned, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, "Are you sure?" 

"Positive" she confirmed, before asking, her voice tinged with innocence in that way she knew he loved, "Please can I touch you now, Matty?" 

"Fuck" he grunted before nodding gruffly. 

Y/n unbuckled his belt slowly, focusing on the way the cool leather and metal strap felt in her hand and the power that she felt as she listened to Matt's shallow breaths become more and more irregular as she made him wait. She took his cock out of his underwear, starting by running the tips of her fingers up and down the underside of his shaft, dragging them before teasing around the sensitive tip. 

"Please..." he begged, the sensitivity making his hips buck upward. 

He hissed as she sucked his tip into her mouth, her lips creating a suction around the head. 

"Y/n" he moaned, his voice a swift, barely-there breath, "Such a good girl-so good for me" 

He continued to groan and praise her as her head bobbed up and down his length, taking as much of it as she could. His hands found their way to her hair and soon he was pulling her strands back away from her face into a makeshift ponytail, gripped roughly in his hands. She moaned on his cock as he tugged her head back slightly, the tension making a ripple of pleasure run the length of her spine. 

"Your mouth-fuck-'feels so good sweetheart" 

Matt breathed out a long breath, his head tilting back as his grip on her hair tightened subconsciously, pulling even harder, causing her to release another muffled moan.

"If you keep moaning on my cock..." he stated through gritted teeth, "I'm gonna cum in your mouth a lot sooner than I'd like" 

"Oh yeah?" she teased, pulling up off of him just to smirk. 

Y/n played with Matt's cock, using her hand to trace lines up and down his shaft. She let her other hand rest on his taut stomach, tracing soothing circles with her fingers as his hard muscles flexed beneath. When she finally returned her now-puffy lips to his needy tip, she kissed it gently, forming a perfect pout, causing him to groan. She then opened her mouth and sucked down his shaft, moaning around it so that the vibrations would send him over the edge.

"Fuck Y/n" he grunted as he came. 

White substance splashed the walls of her throat and she hungrily took it, sucking slowly up his erection until she reached the top. She placed another sweet kiss on his tip, making him release a low, rumbling growl before she stood up. 

She grabbed at him desperately, pushing him back down onto his silky sheets. They scrambled up the bed until they reached the headboard, Matt's head almost hitting the top. Once she situated herself on top of him their kisses immediately resumed, the salty taste of Matt there on her lips. 

"Mmm," he groaned, savouring himself. 

As they kissed, it was as if their bodies started moving completely on their own. Y/n gasped as she ground down onto Matt, her clit rubbing up and down the length of his shaft. He gripped her hips, pulling her down further onto him. 

"Fuck" she whimpered before begging, "Please Matt, I need you in me" 

"No," he chuckled against her lips.

He kissed away the pout that had instantly made its way onto her face. 

"Matt..." she whined, her frustration clear as she ground herself onto him again. 

He slid a hand up from her hips to her waistline, using his weight to throw himself over her until she was rolled onto her back. 

"I know what you want Y/n" he teased with another intense kiss, taking control, "but I'm not giving it to you until you've cum on my lips at least once" 

She whimpered. 

"Does that sound okay sweetheart...?" 

His lips trailed over to her cheek. 

"Your sweet pussy on my tongue..." 

Then, her jaw. 

"...Fingers pulling at my hair" 

She gasped when he reached her neck. 

"Caging my face with your thighs until I make you cum, make your legs shake" 

Y/n was practically panting. 

"Matttt" she groaned, her voice catching on the final consonant, "Please-ugh, God-please"

"No point begging Him sweetheart," he groaned onto her skin, sucking at her thigh roughly as he settled between her legs, "No...it's me whose name you're gonna be calling out" 

His kisses formed a wet chain from her thigh to her most sensitive area. Each one made her hips buck more than the last. When he finally swiped his tongue over her clit she gasped, her hands immediately flying to find purchase in his chestnut curls. 

One of his hands snaked up her body, his palms running over her front with a pressure so intense she felt it in her ribs. He squeezed at her throat. 

"That feel good?" 

"Yes," she groaned, her breathing getting more and more irregular by the second, "Just-just like that" 

He licked and licked at her clit, the feeling and the lewd noises of him eating her out making her moan. As he continued he took his other hand and began caressing her sensitive hole. He didn't penetrate her, just simply teasing her entrance. Y/n's legs squeezed the sides of his face tightly and he was buried so deep in her that she couldn't even see his eyes, only his curls as they spilled onto her lower stomach. 

"Fuck" he groaned onto her wetness, loving the taste. 

Matt sucked around her clit, his tongue sliding across the sensitive areas, touching every spot that pleased her. She could feel his satisfactory grin tickling her skin every time she moaned his name or simply whimpered for him. 

"Matt" she moaned, "Shit-I'm close" 

Y/n's hips rocked up and down against the suction he was creating around her clit, the circular movements in sync with her quiet moans and breathy utterances. And when she came it was explosive, and it was perfect because it was good oral, yes, but most importantly because it was Matt. To cum on his tongue, to wet his beautiful face with her cum, the thought made her shiver her way through her orgasm. 

"Fuck" she breathed out, sighing the word with a small breathy chuckle.

She twitched on his wet mouth, on his fingers as her orgasm subsided. Matt emerged from beneath her, crawling slowly up her body, running his hands up her curves as he did. He kissed her like they were running out of time, he kissed her like he loved her, and she knew he did. 

"I-I need to be inside you" he confessed softly against her lips, 

"Yes" she consented, pulling impatiently at his toned arms, "Please Matty" 

Matt kissed her then and again, it genuinely took her breath away. He pushed her onto her side before positioning himself behind her on the bed, taking the time to caress her waist with his calloused palm and press a line of kisses into the crook of her sensitive neck. Her skin prickled with each touch until she was begging for what she wanted. 

"Matt...please" she puffed. 

"Please what?" 

"Please fuck me" she groaned before repeating, "Please, please, ple-"

But her sarcasm was instantly cut off, her words replaced by a short gasp as Matt pushed the first bit of his hard cock into her. She reached back, gripping his skin, her nails digging into him. 

She gasped again as he pressed further and further into her until his entire length was sheathed inside her warm pussy. 

"Matt" she groaned, her eyes scrunching shut at the feeling of his size. 

"You can take it sweetheart" he encouraged, staying still until she was prepared for him. 

Y/n relaxed then, breathing in long, slow puffs, "...Ready" 

"Yeah?" He confirmed, pulling back before pressing slightly farther into her, she'd honestly forgotten that he had more to give. Matt began sliding in and out of her at a slow pace making her insides clench around him. 

"Mmm" she moaned, then whimpered, "Yes" 

Matt reached forward with one hand and caressed from her sternum up to her throat in one intimate motion. She groaned as his fingers wrapped themselves around her neck, whimpering immediately after when his grip tightened and his pace sped up. She tilted her gaze toward him so that the back of her head was resting on his wide shoulders. Y/n loved watching every twitch of Matt's eyebrows, every lip bite, every bead of sweat forming. The truth was she adored him, and watching him fuck her while feeling him fuck her was a dream come true. 

"I might not be able to see sweetheart but I can feel you staring at me" 

"And what's wrong with that?" she breathed, her tone dripping with desire, "I like looking at you when you're fucking me" 

Matt groaned at that, his hand on her neck subconsciously gripping even tighter before releasing, making her cry out at the loss. But in a second Matt was rolling her over until she was on her back beneath him. 

"I need to fuck you deeper" he stated, his grasp on her hips rough and desperate, then groaning, "Fuck your pussy's so good" 

He kissed her neck, her jaw, the skin beneath her ear. 

"You want it?" He asked then. 

"You know I do" she whimpered in response, repeating her words from earlier as she clenched at the feeling of his crown touching her entrance. 

He slid into her and immediately started to thrust, holding tightly onto her waist with both hands, squeezing the skin, likely leaving two handprints behind. Her stomach tensed as he pumped in and out of her tight hole, making her whimper his name. She moved her legs upward so that they were wrapped around Matt's body, pulling him closer, deeper. 

"Fuck" he cursed at the feeling.

His strong upper body leaned over her as he thrust in and out of her pussy, his toned arms caging her from either side. Y/n breathed heavily as she slid her hand down, connecting her fingers to her needy clit. As she began rubbing Matt's head cocked to the side... 

"No, no sweetheart, that's my job" he growled between kisses, "That clit, that pussy, it's mine-all mine" 

He refocused his attention then, spitting on his fingers before placing them on her clit and beginning to rub circles, causing her to moan, swearing so loudly she thought all of Hell's Kitchen must have been able to hear her. 

"Kiss me" she whispered then, desperate for even more intimacy, wanting him in every possible way, all at once. 

He smiled that slow, seductive Matt Murdock smile before sighing and leaning down to kiss her. His lips just missed hers, his kiss landing on the side of her mouth as she rocked below him, causing her to chuckle lightly. She grabbed his face, steadying him as he continued to thrust, planting a kiss of her own directly on his blush pout. A second later, they separated and her head rolled back on the pillow as the pleasure of Matt thrusting in and out of her while rubbing at her clit began to overwhelm her. 

"Fuck" she breathed. 

She came quickly, hard, at that moment with Matt's fingers rubbing fiercely on her clit, his cock slamming in and out of her.

"That's it sweetheart" he groaned, as she tightened up around him, "That's my girl"

He cupped her face with his large hand, holding onto her as he continued to thrust in and out of her, now cumming himself, the waves of her orgasm sending his cock over the edge. She felt weightless, she felt as if her bones had melted within her body and she was now nothing but a mess in his arms.

"Ahh," she sighed.

When they'd both come down from their highs and shifted into a more comfortable position, Matt caressed her cheek with his warm hand. 

"God I love you" 

"You love God?" He joked, smiling, "And here I thought you were an atheist..." 

He silenced her laughter with another kiss and she truly didn't want to break away, not to joke, not for anything.

[big-heart-ninjasblog]

This got me dying

[big-heart-ninjasblog]

[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man. 

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis. 

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands. 

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life. 

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name. 

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner. 

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in. 

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you. 

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours. 

It scares you so much it's not your choice. 

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that. 

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information. 

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter. 

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take? 

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices. 

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running. 

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases. 

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering. 

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner? 

"All done?" 

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left. 

You turn your head to follow her gaze. 

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up. 

The cameras don't do him justice. 

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's. 

The realization shakes your entire world. 

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world. 

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer. 

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you." 

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest. 

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that. 

Your throat gets tight again. 

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat. 

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment. 

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it. 

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office. 

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father. 

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office. 

This isn't about you or your fears. 

This is for Minnie. 

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you. 

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart. 

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain. 

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him. 

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it. 

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before. 

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic. 

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen. 

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party." 

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up. 

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth. 

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille." 

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe. 

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face. 

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well. 

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy. 

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity. 

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention. 

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger. 

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper. 

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe. 

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up. 

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times. 

 Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you. 

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

 "She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good. 

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him. 

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying. 

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there." 

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes. 

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me." 

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan. 

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea." 

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?" 

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting." 

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?" 

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes." 

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office. 

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?" 

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right." 

"I do, too." 

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie. 

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over. 

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice. 

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?" 

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him. 

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you." 

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please." 

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect." 

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man. 

You really hope he's a good father too.

[big-heart-ninjasblog]

Suite seduction

Loki x female reader

18+ | contains mentions of alcohol, smut

“Undress.”

It was a simple command, an instruction that left you biting your lip as you slowly lowered the straps of your dress, eyes trained on Loki’s as he took his seat at the edge of the hotel bed, legs splayed open as you stepped out of the dress. Your hands found your hips as you stood proudly, Loki’s eyes moving across your body as a small smile spread across your lips. His gaze darkened, eyes moving back up your body as his tongue darted out, wetting his lips before he gave his next order.

“Crawl to me.” He spoke assertively, the bourbon’s he had drank in the lobby evident in the slight narrowing of his gaze, the minuscule mirth in the twitch of his lip. Obediently, you got onto your hands and knees and crawled to him, looking up at him from between his legs as you reached the bed. He didn’t have to tell you what to do next, you already knew but you wanted to tease him. Laying your cheek against his thigh, you looked up at him dolefully, smiling when his hand stroked your other cheek gently, caressing your face before he found your hair and ran his fingers through that. You sighed contently as he did so before his grip tightened in your hair. As much as you knew Loki, he knew you. On all other occasions you were his princess but after a few cocktails, you didn’t want to be his princess, you wanted to be his wanton whore. A mix between a gasp as a moan escaped you as he held your hair tightly, forcing your head upwards. You looked up at him, jaw slack, eyes wide before you broke out into a grin. Loki didn’t need to say anymore, he didn’t need to do anymore, you already knew.

Desperate hands unbuckled his belt as you freed his hard length, placing a gentle kiss on the tip as Loki smirked, letting go of your hair. Looking down at his cock, you licked up from the base to the tip before looking back up at Loki who’s brows were already furrowed in pleasure. Giggling, you kept your eyes on his as you took his cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around it.

“Fuck.” Loki grunted, moving closer to the edge of the bed as your head moved up and down, your saliva coating his shaft. You held the base of his cock as your tongue circled the tip before you took the entirety of him into your mouth again. Your free hand sought one of his as you guided it to the back of your head, wanting his hands in your hair again, needing him to control you. Loki abided, holding your head down as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You were practically choking on him, slobbering against his length as he released you, lifting your head back up again before holding you down again, hips lifting slightly as he fucked your mouth. You hummed against him, sending vibrations down his shaft as he uttered your name. You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter the more he used you, the longer he stole his pleasure from you.

He was close, you could feel the way his grip tightened as he bared his teeth. You could taste the salty precum leaking from the tip of his cock as you ran your tongue across his slit before focusing on the underside of his shaft sending Loki into overdrive. His hips moved on their own accord as he neared his release before he let go of you, calming himself down.

“What’s the matter baby?” You teased, hiding your smile as you batted your eyelashes, looking up at him.

“I just need to—” he exhaled, seemingly out of breath “fuck” he exasperated leaving you unable to hide your chuckle “you little minx” he scolded “get on the bed.”

Giggling, you got onto the bed, laying back against it as Loki discarded of his clothes. Settling above you, his lips met yours in a greedy kiss as if he was reveling in the taste of himself against you. You kissed him back just as eagerly, your tongues moving past eachothers.

“I don’t know whether I should be outraged or thankful to the man that taught you how to do that with your mouth.”

Wordlessly you laughed as his lips ventured down your neck before he placed a gentle kiss between the valley of your breasts. Cupping one of your breasts, Loki brought the hardened peak of your nipple to his lips before wrapping them around it. You sighed contently as he sucked it languidly whilst rubbing his thumb against the other one. You bucked your hips, desperate to relieve some of the pressure that had built since Loki told you to undress. With his body, he pushed your hips down, trapping you between him and the bed as he circled the other nipple with his tongue before taking that one into his mouth.

“Loki.” You moaned, gently stroking his hair out of his face as he alternated between breasts. You could feel more pressure building the longer he carried on before he stopped and started working his way lower. His kisses met the tender skin of your abdomen as he moved lower down the bed before he was pushing your legs apart. Hooking his arms around your thighs, he pulled them apart before placing a kiss against your needy centre. He pulled away, kissing your thighs gently as he worked his way back to your centre, drawing a circle with his tongue around your clit.

“Lokii.” You gasped, looking down at him when he took your clit into his mouth, sucking against it softly. He looked up at you through his dark lashes as he feasted on you, burying his face between your legs. He released your clit, tongue moving to your entrance as his nose nudged at the sensitive bundle of nerves he had just left abandoned. His name fell from your lips repeatedly as he entered you with his tongue, his nose rubbing against your clit. “Fuckk.” You moaned, hand bunching up into the duvet underneath you as you tried to stave off your orgasm. “L—Loki stopp I’m going to c—” you stuttered as he entered you with two of his fingers as he resumed suckling against your clit. He curled them upwards, hitting your g-spot as you struggled to even breathe let alone string together sentences. “Lokiii” you panted, heels of your feet digging into the bed as he held your legs open, the double stimulation leaving you shaking. “Loki!” You exclaimed, your orgasm hitting you violently as you came, your arousal gushing out of you as he refused to stop, still penetrating you with his fingers and sucking on your clit. “F-fuckk” you moaned, Loki was ravenous. You tried to close your legs, only one of them held in place by his arm but he was too strong or you were too weak from your orgasm. You couldn’t, you were at his mercy. Your vision blurred as you felt another orgasm building. Before you could even vocalise it, it washed over you, coating Loki’s face again as he finally slowed his movements before pulling his fingers out of you and lifting his head.

“I h-hate you.” You finally spoke as you floated down from your high.

“I love you too.” Loki smiled, licking his lips.

“I don’t know whether I should be outraged or thankful to the woman who taught you how to do that with your mouth.” You joked, repeating his earlier words.

“Judging by how wet the bed is now, thankful.” He replied coyly, settling above you again.

“If you think I’m going to let you fuck me now, you’ve got another thing—oh” you began, pausing as Loki began sliding inside of you, your arousal the perfect lubricant.

“You see, one doesn’t simply force open an oyster to collect a pearl” Loki started, bottoming out “you must gently ease it open, be very delicate with it and it’ll keep producing more and more.” He finished, pulling out before sliding back inside.

“You really are drunk aren’t you.” You laughed, meeting his thrusts as you lifted your hips.

“Barely” he replied, eyes closing “ughh, y/n.”

“So I’m just an oyster?”

“Well you are quite stimulating.” He smiled, increasing his thrusts. He was still so sensitive, it wouldn’t take him long now.

The words exchanged between you both turned into sounds as Loki fucked you, eager to cum. You were left trembling, another orgasm overtaking you before there was silence, both of you laying tired in the tatters of your lovemaking.

Loki after y/n had one orgasm

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