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staley83 · 15 hours ago

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is this real?

a/n: this is the second part of “Bucky this, Bucky that”. as always fully credits to @opheliabbarnes for the inspiration.

Bucky was heading to the campus library when he heard her voice sharp, familiar, venom-laced. “Wow. Didn’t expect you to still be walking upright, Barnes.” He froze.

Sharon Carter.

Just hearing her voice made his stomach clench, a sick wave of memory crashing over him. The way she used him, mocked him, laughed with her friends after he’d left her room, thinking for just a second it meant something. He turned slowly, keeping his voice calm. “What do you want?” She tilted her head, blonde curls bouncing, fake smile painted perfectly on. “Just wanted to say congratulations,” she said sweetly. “Heard you’re dating up these days.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “She’s not like you.”

Sharon laughed. “Sure, sure. I mean, hey, good for you. Didn’t think the queen of the social scene had a thing for floppy-haired losers with food stains on their notes. But I guess everyone’s got a kink, right?” He didn’t say anything. Just stared at her, expression unreadable. She took a step closer, voice dropping. “Just hope you’re not getting too comfortable, Barnes. Girls like her?” Her eyes flicked over him with calculated cruelty. “They like the fantasy. You’re probably just a rebellion. Something she’ll get over once she remembers what kind of guy actually fits on her arm.” Bucky felt the words hit like punches. She knew what she was doing. The worst part was that deep down, it echoed what he’d feared all along.

What if he was just a phase to YN?

What if she’d wake up one day and realize he wasn’t enough?

What if Sharon was right?

But before he could fall deeper into the spiral. “You don’t get to talk about her. Sharon’s brows raised mockingly. “Touchy.”

“You used me. Lied to me. Humiliated me. And I still don’t hate you the way I hate myself for ever believing you were different.” Something flickered in her expression, not regret, not guilt. Just surprise at his sudden spine. Bucky continued, voice raw but grounded. “But YN? She’s the only person who ever made me feel like I wasn’t disgusting. She holds my hand in public. Kisses me like I’m hers. Laughs at my dumb facts and touches me like I’m worth something. So don’t talk about her like she’s not real.” Sharon blinked, momentarily thrown off. He stepped past her, shoulders tense, and didn’t look back.

Later that night, you found him sitting on your couch, a quiet storm behind his eyes. You sat beside him, touching his arm gently “Hey. What happened?” He didn’t answer at first. “Why me?” he whispered. You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

“You could have anyone. Someone… polished. Pretty. A guy who looks like he belongs beside you. Not someone with stretch marks and a stomach and-”

“Stop,” you said gently but firmly, climbing into his lap and taking his face in your hands.

“You are everything I want, Bucky. Not a placeholder. Not a rebellion. Not a project.”

He looked away, blinking fast. “Someone said stuff today. Stuff I’ve been thinking since we got together. That maybe I’m just… a novelty.”

You pulled his glasses off, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re not a novelty. You’re the realest, warmest, smartest, kindest person I’ve ever known. You think I’m some perfect popular girl? I was miserable before you. I didn’t even know what love felt like until you.” Bucky let out a shaky breath. You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then his lips slowly, like stitching him back together. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “You don’t have to keep bracing for the fall. I’m here. With you. Always.”

He wrapped his arms around you, tight. Like he was afraid to let go but maybe, just maybe, starting to believe he wouldn’t have to. He still couldn’t believe it.

Bucky sat now on the edge of your bed, wearing nothing but his glasses and a dazed smile. His thighs spread wide, boxers tented with obvious want, dark curls falling into his flushed face. You were kneeling between his legs, your hands on his thick thighs, trailing teasing fingers over skin that was warm and soft and solid. “You okay, Buck?” you teased, your voice honey-sweet and low. He swallowed, eyes wide behind his fogged-up glasses. “I just… I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up in my dorm with my hand down my pants.” You giggled. “You’re not dreaming.”

You kissed the inside of his thigh, feeling him shiver beneath you. His cock jumped in his boxers, a dark spot already spreading at the tip. You looked up at him, lips barely brushing his skin. “I invited you for coffee, Bucky. We had sex in a bathroom. And now I’m about to blow your mind again. You still think this is a dream?” His breath hitched. “Kind of.”

You pulled down his boxers slowly, watching his cock spring free thick, heavy, flushed dark pink at the tip. His hips jerked a little when you wrapped a hand around the base, stroking gently. “I like that you’re big,” you whispered, biting your lip as your eyes dragged up his body. “And soft. I love that you’re the smartest guy I know. You’re sexy, Bucky. I’ve wanted you since the first time you corrected our professor under his breath.” He moaned, a low rumble in his chest, when you took him in your mouth. His hand instantly went to your hair, trying not to pull, but losing that fight fast.

“Fuck- sweetheart, you’re… you’re too good at that,” he panted, biting down on his fist as your mouth worked him over. He was thick, and long, stretching your lips wide, and you loved how sensitive he was. Every whimper, every soft praise that slipped from his mouth made you wetter. He tugged you up suddenly, breathing hard. “I wanna make you feel good too,” he said, his voice rough.

You let him guide you onto the bed, onto your back, panties already soaked through. He kissed down your thighs like a man starved, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he buried his face between them. His stubble scratched your skin, but his tongue was filthy, lapping and sucking until your legs trembled around his thick neck.

“God, Bucky-” you cried out, gripping the sheets, arching your back. He groaned into you, like your taste was addictive, like he needed it. And when he pulled away, you saw his mouth wet, lips pink and swollen, and his pupils blown wide. “Come here,” you whispered, pulling him up. He hovered over you, pressing his thick, warm body to yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as he pushed into you slowly carefully.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he moaned against your neck. “You sure I’m not hurting you? You rolled your hips up, moaning, “You’re perfect.” Bucky’s thrusts were slow at first, controlled but you saw the way his jaw clenched, how sweat formed on his brow as he held himself back. You wrapped your legs around his waist and whispered, “Don’t hold back.” He didn’t. The bed creaked beneath you as he picked up the pace, hips snapping harder, deeper. Your moans filled the flat along with his sweet, desperate praises.

“So beautiful, fuck-can’t believe you want me-feel so good, sweetheart-I love you, I love you-”

You came first, loud and shaking beneath him, dragging him over the edge. He spilled into you with a deep groan, burying his face in your neck as his whole body trembled.

After, he didn’t move for a long moment just held you close, breathing hard. “I’m never waking up from this, am I?” You smiled into his messy hair, heart full. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” You looked at him in the eyes. “I love you too, Bucky.”

The next morning, you padded into the kitchen wearing nothing but Bucky’s wrinkled T-shirt. Oversized, smelling like him, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair was thrown up in a messy bun, lips swollen from hours of kissing, and your legs still shook a little from how many times he’d made you come last night. You should’ve been sore. Exhausted. But the second Bucky saw you? He dropped his coffee mug mid-pour, mouth parted in stunned silence. “…Jesus fucking Christ.” You glanced over your shoulder. “What?”

He didn’t answer. Just stalked over like a man possessed, cornering you at the kitchen counter, his thick chest brushing your back.

His hands slid under the hem of the shirt, his shirt, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs, moving upward with intent.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he rasped against your neck. “That’s not even fair.” You smirked. “You left it on the floor. I figured it’s mine now.”

“I’ll give you every shirt I own if you let me eat you right here.” Your breath caught, heart skipping as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. “On the counter,” he murmured. “Now.”

You hopped up without hesitation, legs spreading naturally as he kneeled between them, his broad shoulders pushing them farther apart. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee before moving up, up, up, until his mouth was right where you wanted him.

“You know what it does to me,” he groaned, “seeing you like this… all soft and messy in my shirt, legs open like I haven’t ruined you enough already.” You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging gently as he licked a slow stripe up your slit. You gasped, back arching slightly off the cold counter.

He dove in like a man starved, his tongue relentless and filthy licking, sucking, devouring you like your taste was everything.

One of his hands held your thigh in place, the other moving to press on your lower belly, keeping you still. The pressure, the control, had you panting.

“Fuck, Bucky-”

“I’ll never get enough of this,” he murmured between licks, glasses fogging slightly as he looked up at you. “You’re soaked. You always this wet for me, baby?” You couldn’t even answer. Your hips rolled instinctively, grinding into his mouth, your thighs trembling around his head.

“Look at you,” he whispered, “shaking already. You gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Right here on the counter like a good girl?”

You came hard. Thighs clamping around his head, a loud cry torn from your throat. He groaned against your cunt, not stopping until your whole body went limp and trembling in his hands. When he finally pulled away, his mouth and chin were glistening, his lips red and wet, pupils blown wide behind his crooked glasses. He grinned, standing between your legs, spreading kisses from your belly to your collarbone. “That’s breakfast sorted,” he said smugly.

The smell of coffee filled the apartment. Y/N was perched cross-legged at the little kitchen table in her oversized sleep shirt, a mug in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her. Bucky stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a quiet concentration that meant his mind was miles away. She watched him, chin in her hand, waiting. She knew that look. He was thinking about something deep enough to be simmering behind his eyes, just below the surface. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked gently. Bucky didn’t turn around right away. He finished flipping the pancake, then reached for the plate, carefully stacking it beside the eggs. After a moment, he brought it over, setting it down between them, and sat across from her. He didn’t eat yet. Just stared at the plate. Then, finally, he said.

“I used to think maybe Sharon was right.” Y/N blinked, lowering her mug slowly. “I mean, back then,” Bucky continued. “I really believed I was… something you settled for. The soft guy. The background guy. I wasn’t strong or cool or ripped like everyone else. I just… had a nice smile and helped people with homework.” Y/N reached for his hand under the table. He let her take it. “When Sharon hooked up with me, it felt like maybe I was finally enough for someone like her,” he said. “Even if it didn’t make sense. Even if I felt like I was holding my breath the whole time.” He paused. Swallowed hard. “And when she told me it was a joke, that she did it for a bet. I didn’t even get mad at her. I got mad at me. For believing I deserved someone. For thinking I wasn’t the joke.”

“Bucky…” Y/N whispered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I spent so much time thinking love wasn’t for people like me. That I had to just be grateful for whatever scraps I got. Even if they hurt.” There was silence for a moment. The kind that filled the kitchen like warm sunlight through the blinds. Then Y/N spoke, voice steady and sure. “You don’t ever have to feel like that again.” His eyes met hers open, vulnerable, but steadier than before. “I know that now,” he said quietly. “Because of you.” He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “You scare the shit out of people, you know that?” She snorted. “Good. They should be scared.” “You would’ve destroyed her,” he said, not teasing. Just pure truth. “I still might,” Y/N said with a shrug. “Just say the word.” He laughed. That soft, real one that started in his chest and tugged up the corners of his eyes. “But seriously, Buck,” she said, growing quiet again. “You’re not a consolation prize. You never were. You’re thoughtful and kind and stubborn and smart and gentle in ways that most people aren’t brave enough to be. That’s what makes you different.” He looked down at their hands. At the way her fingers were laced through his, like she didn’t plan to let go not even if the world tried to pull them apart. “I don’t want to be scared of love anymore,” he said softly. “Then don’t be,” Y/N whispered. “We’re already in it.” He looked at her, eyes glassy but not sad. Just full. He reached for a fork finally, took a bite of egg, and smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s start with breakfast.”

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staley83 · 19 hours ago

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bucky being a perv :( him filing it for later /( him saying “oh baby girl, she’s dripping” while he slips it in when you’re sleepy :( perv bucky who steals ur underwear from later :(

— @fckmebarnes

oh this is someone familiar👀👀 had to steal your whole pussy pronouns thing for this one, e. hope you don't mind :( cw for somno, dubcon. minors dni

you’re already asleep on your side, one arm tucked under the pillow when bucky comes home. so pretty. so fucking perfect.

“out like a light, huh, baby?” he mumbles, barely above a whisper. his fingers trail over the thin fabric of your sleep shorts, before hooking into the waistband and sliding them down, slow. “shhh, jus’ let me take care of you.”

your panties come off next, his breath hitching as he peels them from your skin. “fuck,” he groans, pressing your panties to his face, inhaling deep.

"oh, baby girl," he hums. you stir slightly, a soft noise slipping from your lips, but you don’t wake. not fully. just enough to feel the bed dip behind you.

his cock already hard where it nudges against your ass. his fingers slide between your thighs, where it's already wet, and trembling in your half-asleep haze. "look at that… she’s drippin’."

you whimper, too drowsy to protest as he nudges your legs apart, his thumb circling your clit. "shhh, jus’ relax… let me take care’a you. jus’ like that. so fuckin’ wet for me already.”

bucky flips you around so he's infront of you, fingers slowly nudging your tank top down as his cock presses against your entrance. forcing your folds open for him even in your sleep, he pushes in with a groan that rattles your bones. "fuck, that’s it… wrap those pretty legs ‘round me."

you’re too pliant to resist him, your body arching into his as he sets a lazy, deep rhythm, his lips sucking bruises and hickeys into your throat. "knew you’d be like this… all sweet ‘n sleepy for me."

“oh, fuck,” he grits out, burying himself to the hilt. “s’that feel good, sweetheart?”

you whimper, half-asleep, your body arching back into him instinctively, your fingers clutching at the sheets.

“yeah,” he growls, his hand slipping around to your hip, holding you in place as he fucks into you, slow and deep. “jus’ like that. take it, baby. take what’s yours.”

and when you wake up sore and confused, he’ll just grin at you innocently, as he hands you a fresh cup of coffee. "mornin’, doll. sleep good?"

the bastard.

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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(Pregnancy) Cravings.

Bucky Barnes X Reader.

Summary: Sam and Bucky have a planned day of fishing but when the topic of you and Bucky trying for a baby sparks a foodie conversation an assumption arises.

Sam knew you and Bucky had been having serious discussions about having a baby, so when he showed up to pick Bucky up to go fishing, the scene before him wasn’t all that surprising.

“What’re you eating?” He cocked his head to the side looking at your paper plate that was littered with red chips and sour cream.

“Extra hot, hot cheetos with sour cream. Do you wanna try it?” You shook the plate playfully toward him as the two of you stood in your kitchen.

Bucky walked into the room, wet hair pushed back as he watched you try to get Sam in on your newest food fixation. “It’s pretty good, I have to admit.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at the two of you, unsure whether or not to trust you before trying it. When he took a bite his eyes widened and he had a big toothy grin.

“Told ya!” Bucky smiled wrapping his arms around you, his hands lightly caressing your stomach briefly but it was something Sam noticed right away.

“Do you guys have something to tell me?” He started to wonder if this random combination of food happened to be a pregnancy craving.

You giggled and shook your head although Buckys face further proved he was confused at what Sam meant by that.

“The food combo!” Sam pointed to the plate and Bucky still didn’t register what he was saying.

“Sometimes when a woman is pregnant she has odd food cravings, bubs.” You softly patted Buckys chest, and he slowly nodded still confused. “But I’d like to defend this choice and say I have been eating it for years! Thank you!” You turned back to Sam with a playful eye roll.

“Food cravings? Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Bucky mumbled but Sam heard him perfectly knowing he was in for a long car ride to the lake.

“Because you’re like a million years old!” Sam laughed, “We can talk about it in the car Robocop. The trout are waiting!”

“Yeah I’m sure they are absolutely anticipating their demise” Bucky groaned, running his flesh hand down his face.

“You two are a comedy show in the making.” You clicked your tongue. “Anyway! I packed you both a lunch!” You handed Bucky a lunch box from the fridge and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, his arms wrapped around you.

“A lunch for me too?” Sam smiled knowing this wasn’t atypical of you at all.

“Don’t act surprised, Wilson! Turkey and swiss for my man and ham and cheddar for you. ”

“You’re too good a woman, ya know that? You’re a natural born caretaker. ” Sam smiled and he meant every word.

“It’s just practice” you winked giving Bucky one last kiss before the two of them set out for the day.

••••

Bucky slid into the passenger side of Sam’s truck, still deep in thought as he placed the lunchbox in his lap like he was guarding it with his life.

“Okay Tinman, let’s talk about it. What's up?” Sam started the truck and looked over at Bucky who was clearly in his head.

“You and those damn nicknames” Bucky rolled his eyes. “It just never occurred to me to pay attention to her food cravings. I guess I never thought about it. All the books I’ve read so far just focus on excessive sleeping and sore breasts” he had never admitted to Sam that he was reading books on what to expect until now.

“You’re reading books now huh?” Sam smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. He liked seeing this side of Bucky, the soft nurturing side came out more now that you were around. He put the truck in reverse and headed down the gravel road to the lake, it wasn’t a far drive but it gave them enough time to talk.

“She took a test a week ago and it was negative which we kind of expected.” Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” Sam chuckled as he pulled onto the gravel road close to the lake.

“No, not at all.” Bucky finally laughed a little, huffing air out of his nose. “She’s been craving a lot of things lately but I wouldn’t say anything out of the ordinary. She did mention that she wanted to melt dark chocolate and dip watermelon in it the other day, but that didn’t seem all that weird to me.”

“When we’re done here why don’t we go pick that up from the store for her and maybe some other things” Sam smiled as he put the truck in park.

“Another box of tests and maybe some more food combinations” Bucky laughed and Sam nodded as the two of them got out of the truck and started to carry their chairs, buckets, bait, and everything else they could need for an afternoon of fishing.

••••

When Sam and Bucky arrived back at the house it was already well into the evening, you knew they’d both be exhausted and would likely be hungry so you made sure to have dinner in the oven as they arrived.

When Bucky walked through the door you could easily spot the sunburn on his face, a faint pink glow spread across his nose and cheeks but you noticed both he and Sam had big brown paper bags in their hands.

“I hope that’s not dinner! I already have something in the oven!” You teased as you got up from the couch to greet them.

Sam looked to Bucky for a response before answering you. “This morning your hot cheetos and sour cream made us think about some other food combinations.”

“Oooo snacks?” You giggled as you peered into the bags and started to take out the contents.

Bucky took out a bag of dark chocolate chips and sliced watermelon and your eyes lit up. “You remembered?”

“Of course I did.” Bucky puffed out his chest, proud to be your man, proud that he remembered.

“I wanna try this first” Sam picked up the jar of pickles and creamy peanut butter earning an immediate gag from you.

“I hate pickles but I’ll try it if Bucky does” you looked over at Bucky who was already stirring your melted chocolate chips in a small dish.

“I’ll try it” he shrugged and you handed him a pickle covered in peanut butter. The three of you tapped them together in faux cheers before taking a big bite.

“Not bad” Sam and Bucky shrugged while you opened the trash can to spit inside.

“No that’s disgusting, just like I thought.” You coughed and Bucky handed you a piece of watermelon with dark chocolate on it to cleanse your palate.

When you took a bite of it your eyes widened, and you let out a relieved sigh.

“Good? Is that better?” Bucky laughed as you excitedly nodded urging him to try it too.

“Well she didn’t like the pickles” Sam mumbled and Bucky nodded quietly taking a bite of his watermelon with chocolate.

“What about this?” Sam handed you a potato chip with Nutella on it.

It finally dawned on you what was going on, “Do you guys think I’m pregnant? I took a test last week and it was negative.”

“I mean, we did buy more just in case” Sam laughed and the alarm for the oven went off causing you to jump and drop the chip on the floor.

“I’ll get it” Bucky slid on an oven mitt and placed the food on the counter. The smell of meatloaf filled the air and you started to gag.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky was wide-eyed at your reaction. “You always make this!”

“It stinks! You don’t smell that? It smells rotten!” Your eyes were watery as you tried to hold back a cough.

“I think it smells good” Bucky deadpanned.

“Smells delicious to me” Sam shrugged and sat down on the barstool beside him with a smile as he watched your expression change.

“Fine! Give me a test” you rolled your eyes and held out your hand before running to the bathroom.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　

A/N: Thank you @sunday-bug for brainstorming this idea with me. I couldn’t have done it without you!!

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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blood-tied | bucky barnes

───── ⋆⋅ ˗ˏˋ -`♡´- ˎˊ˗ ⋅⋆ ─────

Summary: After letting you watch as he tortures and kills, Bucky decides to show you what it's like to be bound to that chair. Only... he changes his methods for you.

Word Count: 1222

Masterlist

A/N: I very much want to write a dark romance, and I have an idea for one. I guess this is a chapter from that-that wouldn't leave my head until I wrote. And I thought I'd give it to you in the form of James Bucky Barnes. ♡ Remember, I have a praise kink; I need validation and attention to survive. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated. ♡

Tags: @starfly-nicole | @its-in-the-woods | @niinesb

His blood was already beginning to dry on my hands. Tacky, flaking. The body of the man he once was twitches one last time, then nothing. He was gone. His eyes glassed, mouth hung open, and his throat… a red ruin.

Good.

But I couldn’t give my attention to him any longer.

Because you’re standing against the wall still, where I demanded you stay. You’re so obedient. Your chest rising and falling fast, like you had held your breath throughout the entire ordeal. Your eyes wide.

It wasn’t fear. You’ve never been scared of me.

No, you are starving.

My gaze dropped to your thighs, pressed together, barely holding yourself together. Your pretty, plump lips wet from where you had your teeth sunk into them.

It’s clear. The way violence unravels you. How watching me take the life out of another man’s eyes shatters you.

My boots squelch through the blood as I walk toward the body, dropping my knife. Slow and steady, I crouch down behind the chair and start untying the ropes.

I didn’t take my eyes off you. Didn’t say a word.

And you… didn’t move.

The rope is slick with warm blood, drenching my hand as I grab it. Then, as I rise, your throat bobs. Your gaze flickering from the rope, my hands, my face, then locking with mine—your eyes.

“Come here,” I say.

Like it's instinct, you obey.

You stride toward me is like you had been waiting your whole life to be called forward. To be called by me.

Without another word, I take your wrist, lifting it gently, and wrap the bloodstained rope around your clean, untouched skin. You didn’t fight me. You never would. You give herself to me willingly, like I’m your goddamn fucking religion. I grab your other wrist, winding the rope tight and looping around both wrists again. Binding them together in front of you.

“I should get rid of this,” I murmur, tying the hemp into a secure knot. “Toss it in the bin, burn it. Let it burn to ashes with him.”

You part your lips. Those fucking lips. “Then why—”

I pull the rope and you closer to me. You stumble forward, your bound hands bump into my chest. I lean down, brushing my lips against the shell of your ear.

“I’m gonna use it to keep you right where I want you, pretty baby. You belong among the aftermath, and I’m going to ruin you while bound by the same rope that’s coated in his blood.”

As you inhale a sharp breath, I notice the faint tint of pink flushing your cheeks. The shade contrasting perfectly with the specks of brown freckling across your nose.

I can see it.

You’re already wet.

“Bucky—” you gasp, desperate.

I pressed my lips under your ear, along your jaw, and down to your neck. I pause there, smiling against your skin. “I want you to remember what I did. What I did for you.”

I guide you toward the same chair the man died on; past the body, through the mess. I lower you down onto it, the blood still dripping, pooling underneath the metal.

The cold hits the bare skin of your thighs, red had already dyed the once-white socks on your feet.

Using the spare rope from the bindings, I drag your wrists up over your head, tying them to the wooden beam behind you.

Tight.

Secure.

Mine.

“Don’t move… Oh, wait—” I scoff a low chuckle. “You can’t.”

I kneel between your legs, my hand gripping under your knees and yanking them open. Rough and greedy. And fuck—

You’re soaked.

I hook a finger around the now mostly transparent cotton gusset, pulling to the side, revealing the most beautiful sight.

You.

Needing me.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” I murmur against your inner thigh, staring up at you as my teeth graze the trembling rise of your skin. “You’re this wet from just watching—baby, you’re drip—”

“Please, Bucky, pl—”

I spit on you, right on your swollen clit.

You gasp.

Your thighs twitch.

And then, I dive in.

Refusing to take my time as your moans start to echo against the basement’s concrete walls.

My tongue licks stripes up your slit, lapping you up like I’m on death row and you’re my last meal. I push my tongue inside you, fucking while your wrists strain, burning them with rope marks.

I grind my face into you, nose rubbing against your sensitive nub adding to the pressure I know is already building inside you.

I was desperate.

Which was never a word I’d use to describe myself before. Me? James Bucky Barnes, desperate for pussy? Ha.

“Buck—”

“I know, babygirl,” I said, the words muffling, vibrating against you.

I almost groaned at the feeling of you clenched so tightly around me as I slid two fingers inside you. My right middle and ring fingers curl just right, dragging against that soft, sweet spot. A sob breaking from your throat, head falling back, resting against your upper arm.

I suck your clit between my teeth while I finger you deeper.

You break so easily.

You’re already close when I begin to rise, my free hand unbuckling my belt. Your wrists jerk against the restraints, writhing, panting.

“I’m not taking my hand away from you,” I kiss your cheek gently. My fingers still fucking you, the heel of my palm kneading your clit. “Even when I’m inside you.”

There’s a shimmer in your eyes. A moan passing your lips. “Please—”

With one brutal thrust, I push my throbbing cock inside you. I press in deep until there’s nowhere left for me to go. Until you’re full of me.

Your scream punches the air. Etching the sound of you into the four walls around me.

I don’t stop. Don’t wait.

I continue to curl my fingers inside you, while my cock begins thrusting deep, rough. My hips rocking my palm against you.

You’re a perfect mess.

Moans. Blood. Need.

“Fuck—I wish you could see yourself now, baby,” I snarl. “All tied up, being used, and dripping for me—you’re beautiful.”

You nod, barely coherent agreements trying to gasp their way out.

I slam harder. Your smaller frame jolts with every movement. Your wrists pull tight, the friction nipping and ripping your skin. Tears stream down, staining your cheeks as you sob, mouth open.

I was ruining you. Completely.

“Do you want to come on the same chair, in the same ropes as he was bound to when I killed him?” I asked, my voice low and hoarse.

“Y-yes—Bucky—please—I—”

“Then do it. Now.”

And you did.

You obeyed every order I gave you.

Your body locked, shaking as you pulses around me. Your sweet cunt squeezing me so tight I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to. I’d never want to. I groan, burying my face into your neck as I push deeper.

My teeth sink into your collarbone, hard enough to leave my mark on you as I come. Hard. Spilling inside you, coating your walls while you ride out every aftershock.

And I still.

Leaving my cock in you and fingers pressed against you.

You’re barely conscious, trembling, and fucking glowing.

I swear, I’m almost coming again. Just at the sight of the blood, the rope, you.

Mine.

───── ⋆⋅ ˗ˏˋ -`♡´- ˎˊ˗ ⋅⋆ ─────

Masterlist

Remember, I have a praise kink; I need validation and attention to survive. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated. ♡

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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minors dni

missing perv!bucky hours :/ literally him waking u up like this

the thick, leaking tip of his cock nudges against your soaked entrance, smearing precum over your folds.  “fuck... just like that,” he groans out. he pushes in just the swollen, aching head of his cock inside.

you gasp, your greedy cunt clenching around that shallow, teasing and painful stretch, sucking him in.

he moans, grinding the tip in circles against your pussy. “yeah... squeezin’ me so good, sweet girl. fuck, your pussy’s suckin’ just the tip like it’s starvin’ for it.”

his hand snakes down, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock, keeping the thick crown buried inside your fluttering hole, as he starts to stroke himself.

 “b-bucky—” you whimper, arching.

 “shhh, jus’ take the tip. jus’ this.” his hips jerk erratically, fucking you with nothing but that shallow penetration, the ridge of his cockhead catching your rim.

“feel how fuckin’ hot your cunt is? milkin’ my fuckin’ crown... gonna cum right here... in this tight little hole... gonna paint your walls—” you feel his balls draw up, slapping your ass.

“gonna flood you... pump my load right where you need it—right where you feel it burnin’ for me—” a guttural groan comes from his throat as he moves inside you.

he cums in heavy spurts, flooding your clenching entrance, coating his tip as he keeps stroking, milking every thick rope deep where he’s barely seated.

“fuck, fuck—yes...” he shudders, hips grinding the tip impossibly deeper as ropes of cum spill into your pussy.

his hand works his shaft faster, smearing his release around your stretched, sticky rim, mixing it with you. “take it, you slut... take all of it... feel it poolin’ right there? my cum sittin’ in your pretty cunt... fuck, so much... drippin’ out already...”

he collapses over you, his cockhead still plugged inside, still spilling the last thick drops.

 “mine. jus’ the tip... an’ my cum sittin’ right where it belongs. markin’ your pussy.” his thumb swipes through the mess leaking from your stretched hole, shoving it back inside.

“keep it in there. till it soaks all the way up.”

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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[monsters] A little help

monsters x human!Reader Good to know: public sex, foursome, bi males; dragon, demon, orc

Summary: You need help with your dragon.

Main Masterlist // More stories about the pub // And we spend this month in Boss's pub on my Patreon

You are sprawled across the battered table, back arched and fingers curled so tightly around the edge that your nails bite into the old wood. It creaks beneath you. Its old legs groan in time with every shaky breath you take. Above, a single bulb casts flickering amber light over your sweat-slick skin, haloing your body in its warmth. Your eyes are locked on it, not because it's so interesting, but because it is the only thing keeping you grounded while the pub around you turns into a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and low moans. The air is soaked in the scent of alcohol, musk, and sex. The heady cocktail clings to your tongue when you breathe too deeply. Your chest rises and falls in uneven waves, and your thighs quiver around Arson’s hips, spread wide and held open by sheer force of his bulk.

You can feel the pulse in your throat as a high, complaining whine finds its way out between your lips.

"Shhh," Arson murmurs in a deep, delicious rumble that vibrates through your spine. "I'm almost in."

You choke out a shocked moan that’s halfway a laugh, halfway a sob. "Almost? You’re not even- Fuck! You’re not even in yet?"

You shift instinctively, but it does nothing good. The blunt tip of his cock nudges, teases, coaxes, but he is just too big. You shouldn't be surprised, though. He is a big guy. His massive frame fills the room, his dark green scales glint under the warm light, and his horns arch up proudly, almost grazing the ceiling when he is not careful enough.

"You’re so fucking tight, little thing. Gonna have to work you open."

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he rolls his hips forward in a slow, grinding push, but the moment you start to stretch around him, you cry out and try to crawl away from him.

It's too much.

"Wait, wait-" you gasp, breath catching sharply in your throat. "Just-"

"Do you need help?" A new voice slices through the air, velvet-smooth and melodic, and before you can even turn your head, there is a warm hand sliding along your calf in gentle strokes meant to soothe your raw nerves. "I could hear her cries from the other side of the room."

You blink at the demon standing not as tall as Arson, but somehow just as overpowering. His dark red skin gleams beneath the white button-up that strains across his broad shoulders and the roundness of his gut. Beneath, black ink snakes up on one of his arms, from the back of his hand up to his neck, barely peaking out of the crips collar.

Arson’s head turns to look at him, and the dragon chuckles low in his chest. "Do you think I can’t take care of her?"

The two of them lock eyes, silent for a long second, and something passes between them so thick you feel like you are intruding.

"Guys," you groan, breathless and sarcastic. "I can leave, if you want."

Your joke barely lands before Arson’s scaled palm flattens on your lower belly, keeping you pinned while the other male's fingers curl tighter around your leg.

"Stay where you are, darling," the demon says, voice dipping into something that makes your toes curl against the tabletop. "I can take care of both of you."

Their gazes pin you just as surely as their grip, and when the demon lifts his hand from your leg and brings it to his mouth, you follow every motion like you are hypnotized. His tongue flicks out, wetting his fingers before he slips them between your legs right alongside Arson's erection. The dragon's cock is still thick and hard with need. It glides through your folds, smearing your wetness and his pre-cum along your swollen pussy. The blunt head catches against your entrance, and when the demon's fingers slide in beside him, curling deep where you are soft and wanting, you cry out and buck your hips.

The dragon's massive hand spreads over your belly, forcing you to be still when he pushes inside you again, but he is barely inside, and you are already whining. "Still so desperate," he says, feeling the work of your muscles as you try to rub on him. Your instincts tell you two different things, leaving your mind dizzy and spinning.

The demon chuckles, fingers curling as he strokes along your soaked entrance. "She loves the stretch," he hums, pressing deeper when Arson gives up and gives him enough space to do it. "Even if it breaks her a little."

A glance passes between them, full of something feral and toecurling, and then, Arson's hand lands heavy on the other male's shoulder, making him move with a slow grace. He adjusts your leg higher, spreading you even more to give himself enough room. His breath ghosts over your drenched slit, and you have to brace up on your elbows with an aching need to see him.

You watch his tongue dragging hot and slow up your slit, flicking your clit with sinful precision. "F-fuck," you pant, head falling back before snapping forward again when the sensation shifts.

For a moment, you feel nothing, but you can see the demon's head tilting just enough to take the dragon's cock into his mouth.

Arson growls above you, rich and guttural. "Greedy fucker."

The male chuckles, letting the rumble of his voice run across the other before backing away just enough to speak. "Name is Nomad," he murmurs against the underside of Arson’s cock, then without waiting for an answer, he dives back in.

It’s a mesmerizing rhythm. His mouth is relentless, switching from Arson’s cock to your cunt with a hunger that feels both calculated and feral. His fingers pry you open, tonguing your clit with firm strokes before pulling back and twisting slightly to take Arson into his mouth again. His lips stretch wide to accommodate the dragon’s girth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks while you watch, breath caught in your throat, as Nomad works Arson’s cock deeper.

"Oh my gods," you gasp, watching the obscene slick of Arson’s cock as Nomad devours it only to find his way back to your swollen clit a moment later.

The back and forth is maddening.

The demon jerks off Arson, his fist sliding up the dragon’s shaft, wrist twisting, working in perfect rhythm with the way his mouth sucks on your clit.

Your body coils tight like a bowstring, ready to snap at any second now. "Fuck- fuck- I’m gonna-" you choke out, hips rocking helplessly, grinding into his face.

"Cum for us, little thing," Arson murmurs, watching you with fire burning in his eyes. "Let him taste it."

Your breath catches and holds, body wound so tight it feels like you might really fall apart-

then it hits.

Your hands claw at the table, nails scoring fresh lines in the old wood as your thighs clamp down hard around Nomad’s head while he moans around your clit, lips locked tight. He sucks greedily through your climax, and only stops when you ease back onto the table, boneless and panting.

"Good girl," he rasps, face wet with your cum, tongue flicking again against your overstimulated flesh just to feel the way you jolt under him.

"You make such pretty sounds," a new voice rumbles, smooth and teasing, and you have to force your head to turn toward it, dizzy from pleasure.

An orc stands just a few steps away, legs spread slightly, and his hand is wrapped around the thick shape straining against his trousers.

There is hunger in his gaze as his eyes drag slowly up your body, lingering on your heaving chest before locking on your face. "Think you can handle another one?"

You nod before the words even register, helpless under the weight of your own desire. Your mind is mushed by that crooked smile that spreads across his face, highlighting the fact that he is missing a tusk.

He steps in, his size casting a broad shadow over you, and braces one hand on the table beside your head. “Good,” he murmurs.

Then he kisses you. His mouth is rough and greedy, tasting like smoke and someone else.

Between your legs, Nomad doesn’t let up; if anything, he grows more methodical. His fingers thrust deep and slow, curling with intent and dragging along every nerve-ending until your thighs tremble and your breath stutters in your throat. He moves in a rhythm designed to torture: just shy enough to make you come, but more than enough to keep you right on the edge, stretched and soaked and aching for more. You’re not sure how many fingers he’s using now, two, maybe three, but they feel thick, deliberate, prying you open with slow, twisting strokes that make you clamp down and whimper with every drag of his knuckles. The stretch is maddening, a sharp, perfect pressure that has your legs twitching uncontrollably. And beneath it all, you can hear it: the wet, obscene sound of your cunt greedily sucking him in, again and again, slick and loud and filthy as he works you open for Arson’s cock.

"Fuck," Nomad grunts, thumb brushing over your clit. "She is almost ready."

You can barely process his words. Your world has narrowed to the tangled heat of bodies around you and the pulse of pleasure that builds and builds without release. The orc’s lips are molten on your skin, moving with agonizing patience down the line of your neck. He takes his time, tasting your skin, nosing against the dip above your collarbone before finally reaching the swell of your breast. His tongue laps lazily at your nipple, teasing and wet, sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core. Your back arches into him instinctively, craving more, and he rewards you with a slow, sucking pull that makes your legs tremble and your fingers claw at the edge of the table. Meanwhile, the heat of Arson’s cock lingers just inches away, thick and pulsing, leaking with need.

"Okay," Nomad groans, voice rough and low. He glances up, eyes gleaming. "Try now, big guy."

You barely have time to brace yourself before Nomad eases his fingers from you with one last deep curl that makes your body clench around the sudden emptiness. It leaves you gasping, open and aching while his hand moves to Arson’s cock. He wraps his fingers around the thick length of the dragon, guiding him closer. The weight of the Arson's cock presses against you, and even with how wet and stretched you are, the first nudge steals the air from your lungs. The blunt tip parts you slowly, pushing just barely inside.

"Easy," Nomad murmurs, tone both soothing and commanding. "Don’t rush it."

Arson growls low as he leans forward, one massive hand planted beside your hip for balance. His other grips your thigh tightly, holding you open as his tip finds your entrance, broad, heated, and already slick with both your wetness and his need. He rolls his hips with aching slowness, and the stretch burns in the most delicious, overwhelming, and maddening way.

"Breathe, sweetheart," the orc murmurs around your nipple, his hand slipping down between your legs. His thick fingers find your clit and begin to rub slow, steady circles that pull your mind from the tension of the stretch to the soft, pulsing warmth blooming inside you.

The first inch is almost too much.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, eyes fluttering shut as Arson slowly begins to sink into you, inch by inch, with Nomad’s steady hand guiding every motion. You feel every thick ridge, every pulse.

"Good," Nomad murmurs, crouching lower, lips brushing your knee, his eyes locked on the place where Arson’s cock slowly disappears inside you. "She’s taking you so good."

"Doing so good for us," the orc says, kissing your jaw before letting his lips trail back to your chest. His mouth finds your nipple again, tugging gently, tongue swirling with maddening attention.

You whimper, caught between the steady rhythm of his mouth, the relentless glide of Arson stretching deeper inside you, and the heat of Nomad’s breath against your skin.

The dragon's claws dig gently into your flesh, not to hurt, but to anchor both of you. His voice is ragged when he finally speaks. "Just a little more," he growls, a shudder running through his massive frame.

And then he is fully seated, hips flush against yours, your body pulled tight around him. The stretch is deep and consuming, but the pain soon melts into something hotter and much more addictive when the dragon begins to move. He pulls back only to press in again with a deep, shuddering groan. His scales brush against your thighs, the low heat of his body seeping into your skin, and the sheer size of him makes each movement feel like he does it for the first time.

Nomad shifts closer, rounding the groaning table underneath you to lean down and capture your lips and every breathy moan that leaves your heaving chest. His lips are warm and demanding, and the taste, the taste of you and Arson, sparks something hot and primal inside you. Your hand, weak and sweaty, wraps around his horn, keeping him close as you chase the sharp tang on his tongue. And while you are busy with the demon, the orc wanders down your body, leaving kisses across your belly and pausing only for a second just to dip lower and let his tongue flick over your clit. He licks the sensitive b ud as much as the awkward angle allows him. His greedy grunts and groans vibrate across your spine and Arson's hulking frame.

"Fuck-" Nomad groans when he tears himself away from your mouth, one hand pressing down on your lowe belly where is can clearly feel the other male moving in and out of you. "Do you feel this?"

Of course you do.

It’s impossible not to. Every inch of Arson pulses through you, thick and deep. He moves like he wants to devour you, grinding inside while you lie sprawled on the table, slick and trembling, your spine arching as your body struggles to contain the heat rising in waves through you. The edges of the world blur, and all you can feel is them.

"You’re doing so well," Nomad murmurs, voice like smoke curling around your already dizzy mind. "You take him so deep. Are you close, sweet thing? Are you ready to fall apart for us?"

You try to speak, but all that escapes is a raw, broken cry that tears from your throat. The pub spins around you, lights streaking into a haze, and you nod frantically, too far gone for anything else. Your toes curl, your legs shake, and your fingers scrabble for purchase against the wood beneath you, nails digging into the grain like you might otherwise float away.

Arson drives into you fast and hard, causing your body to clamp down around him instinctively, fluttering and wanting under the orc's tongue lapping at everything you and the dragon give him. The slurping sounds he makes are messy and eager. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow, savoring the taste of you both like it’s the best thing he’s ever known.

You’re burning. Aching. Your nerves are wires strung too tight, humming with electricity, and when you finally manage a breath, deep, desperate, and shuddering, it breaks you wide open. Your orgasm is blinding and breath-stealing. Your back bows off the table, muscles locking as the tension finally gives way in a wave of pure, trembling release. Your cry is swallowed by the roar in your ears, by the sound of skin on skin, by Arson’s voice rasping your name. And still, he moves. Still, he grinds into the aftershocks of your orgasm, chasing his own high with a pace that shakes the table beneath you, and you are almost sure the old wood will give up under you when Arson snarls and suddenly pulls out with a gasp, thick shaft glistening. He strokes himself once, twice, and with a guttural sound that vibrates through your bones, he releases, his hot length pulsing as thick, sticky heat paints your stomach in heavy spurts.

Your whole body trembles as you look at your own skin, muscles still trembling, but it's not only you whose attention is drawn to the mess Arson released on you. Both the orc and Nomad move almost in sync to hover above you, dipping low enough so the wet heat of their tongues drag on your messy skin, licking up what Arson left behind while staring at each other with a look that says the night is far from over.

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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unknown number - bucky barnes

summary: bucky knows you're out with friends. he takes advantage of that.

cw: fwb!bucky. non-established relationship. i guess this kinda counts as sexting😭 minors dni

lowkey wrote this one cuz of @jamesb444 lol🤭

your phone screen lights up your face in the middle of the crowded bar, while the laughter and chatter buzzes around you.

natasha and the others debate the next round of drinks. you're half-listening, fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass, when the notification pops up.

unknown number.

your stomach drops.

you know that number. had memorized it, even though you’d sworn you wouldn’t save it, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. but you don’t need a contact name to recognize who it is.

your thumb hovers over the message, pulse kicking up. then—image attached.

you tap it.

your breath catches.

bucky.

a mirror selfie, all hard lines. the sharp cut of his abs, the defined v leading down, down and even lower—his cock thick and heavy in his hand, half-hard but already so fucking big. the tip is flushed and leaking. his metal arm is just barely in frame, fingers curled possessively around himself, like he’s imagining it’s you instead.

no caption. no words.

just him. raw, unfiltered, and very naked.

heat floods your cheeks. and between your thighs.

you can feel the way your lips part, the way your body reacts before your brain can catch up.

god, he knows what he’s doing to you. he knows you’re out, surrounded by people.

natasha elbows you. "you good? you look—"

"fine," you choke out, locking your phone too fast, too obvious. "i'm fine."

but it’s too late. the image is burned into your mind.

your phone buzzes again. you can see the message notification at the corner of your eye.

unknown number: miss me?

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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too much - bucky barnes

summary: bucky's too big. but he knows you'll take it either way.

cw!!! smut. lots of it. :3 creampie, lowkey mean!bucky, breeding kink if you squint tbh. size kink!!. unprotected p in v 👀i feel like this could also be gn!reader!!!! minors dni

my first beefy!bucky blurb ever!!!

your whole body trembles as bucky pins you beneath him, his massive frame swallowing you up like you're nothing.

his cock is buried to the hilt inside you. he's stretching you so much you feel like barely breathe, and you whimper. "b-bucky—fuck, you're too big—"

his hips snap forward, getting rougher. you can tell he's getting closer by the way his cock throbs inside you.

"shut up," he grunts, fisting your hair in his metal hand and yanking it back. "you can take it. you always take it."

his thrusts are brutal, rough, and unforgiving. each one feels like it's punching the air from your lungs.

you can feel him swelling even more inside you, his cock throbbing, and your eyes go wide. "oh god—you're gonna—you're gonna cum—" you gasp, but he doesn't stop fucking you, doesn't even slow down.

his grip on you tightens, and then he's coming.

and it's too much.

you moans out as the first thick pulse floods you, hot and endless, his cock jerking inside you as he pumps you full. your heads falls onto the bed, nails digging into his back.

"f-fuck—bucky!" you sob, your body shaking violently. "i can't—it's too much—it's not fitting—"

but he doesn't care. he fucks you through it, his hips grinding deep as rope after rope of cum spills into you, stuffing you beyond what your body can handle.

you feel it leaking out around his cock, dripping down your thighs, but he just slams into you harder.

"gonna fill you up," he growls, voice rough. "gonna make sure it fuckin' takes."

your vision basically whites out as another wave of his release hits you. you feel like your stomach is bloating slightly under the sheer volume of it.

you're sobbing, overwhelmed, your body trembling as he keeps going, his cock still pulsing, still dumping his load inside you.

"p-please," you whimper, but bucky just drops his head on your shoulder as he gives one final, brutal thrust.

"shoulda thought about that before you let me fuck you," he mutters.

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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what friends are for - bucky barnes

nerd,jock&bestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

summary. your bestfriend has a request. 9.3k words.

cw. smut obv! bucky's a virgin, reader is implied to be experienced. male!receiving & swallowing. fingering. titty sucking & nipple play. p in v. wrap it before you tap it! (i don't but do it anyway). buncha other things. minors dni!

a/n. my longest fic yet. went a lil overboard and might've strayed off a bit lols! this took me SO fucking long to write. i really wanted it to be good :( my back hurts SO BAD.

dt. @plumtartt for requesting this & being super patient with how long i took to write this. @54nboo for proofreading. @buckyspup for being super nice to me, love u twin!!

masterlist

you’re cramming for your chemistry midterm. you're hunched over your desk with your pink highlighter in hand, rereading words that are now dancing around and just won't seem to stick into your brain when when your dorm door slams open.

and there he is—james buchanan barnes with his stupid broad shoulders and stupid messy bed hair, looking like he just rolled out of some frat party with his varsity jacket and fuckboy smile that he wears like an armour. except he didn’t.

because bucky barnes is a fucking nerd.

“i need you to take my virginity,” he blurts, like he’s asking you to borrow a pencil.

you blink, genuinely surprised. “what.” your highlighter screeches against the page, nearly drawing random lines on the page as you turn to look at him, dumbfounded.

he flops onto your bed, and fuck, he smells good, like expensive cologne and the stupid locker room body wash that the school provides.

“i’m serious,” he says, propping his chin on his hand while he lays on his stomach, betraying the casual act. “i don’t wanna date anyone, but i also don’t wanna be bad at sex when it does happen. and you’re my best friend. so.”

you stare, the disbelief leaking out. “you’re a virgin?”

he scoffs, but his ears go pink as he toys with your pillow underneath him. “don’t sound so surprised.”

“bucky, you literally have fuckboy energy. no, i’m just...” you wave your hands, trying to process, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "you’re my bestfriend and i absolutely love you but you're also james barnes. you’ve had, like, half the campus throwing themselves at you since freshman year."

he rolls his eyes when you tease him, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck. he licks his lips, nearly hesitating but he says, "yeah, well. none of them were you."

the words hang in the air for a moment before you open your mouth, and fuck does your pulse kick upp. "that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said."

“well. you know, sometimes energy is simply nothing but energy, and besides,” he shrugs like it's nothing yet you can tell he's nervous asking you this. “i’ve been busy. decathlon nationals. moot court prep. debate regionals. football. standards.”

you snort, going back to your school work. you think it's a joke because it's hard to take it seriously james buchanan barnes wants to just.. lose his virginity to you. “so you want me to… what? teach you?”

“yes!” his grin is mischievious, the familiar mask slipping back into its place, but his fingers tap nervously against your comforter. he moves closer towards you, poking your thigh with his finger, “c’mon, please, please, please. it’s me. you know i’ll be good at it.” eventually, he sits up on the edge of your bed.

“oh my god, bucky—” you furrow your eyebrows at him playfully, but he catches your wrist. and suddenly his voice drops to a more serious tone. “what, scared you’ll like it too much?”

your face burns, and you warn, “barnes.”

bucky leans in, close enough that you can count the faint lashes on his eyes, close enough that you can see the flecks of blue in his stupidly pretty fucking eyes. he's serious. he's actually fucking serious. the kind of seriousness that comes from rehearsing this moment in his head a hundred times and still feeling like he’s fucking it up. his confidence is so fake, but the way his pupils dilate when he's looking at you? real. definitely real.

you swallow. “you’re such an idiot, james.”

“yeah, well...” his smirk falters for half a second, but enough time to show you the slight of uncertainty under the bravado he's put on for you. he's ran out of words. that's a first. and he just sits there, waiting and exposed. “...so? what d’you say?”

you exhale sharply, leaning your elbow against the desk like you need the support. your hand drags down your face, fingertips pressing into your temples like you can physically push the absurdity of this situation out of your skull. “you’re really asking me this.”

“i really am.”

“and if i say no?”

he shrugs, but his jaw tightens out of embarrassment. “then i’ll go back to my room. shut the door. pretend this never happened. no weirdness. i promise.”

you study him—the way his fingers flex like he’s stopping himself from fidgeting, the way his throat bobs when you don’t answer right away. his fingers flex restlessly on his thigh, bouncing, like he's stopping himself from fidgeting further. and running.

“...you’re nervous,” you realize, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“no,” he lies, too fast.

you raise an eyebrow at him.

he groans, caving as he flops back onto your pillows with enough force to send a few stray strands of hair fluttering across his forehead. “fine. yeah. a little. it’s weird, okay? i've never done this before. i've never, you know, walked into your room and just,” he looks up at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes, “asked you to take my virginity.”

“you’re bucky barnes, the golden boy.” you giggle, teasing more than anything. “captain of everything, future senator, literal embodiment of the american dream pamphlet. you’re not supposed to get nervous. you’re supposed to just… know things.”

“oh, hush it,” he grumbles, throwing an arm over his face. “just—laugh it off or whatever. i'm going. my dignity's in the negatives.” he starts to sit up, but you catch his sleeve. “i didn’t say no.”

his eyes snap to yours, wide and hopeful. “...so that’s a yes?”

“it’s a ‘you’re ridiculous and i can’t believe i’m even considering this insane, potentially friendship-ruining idea, but you’re my best friend and i love you.’”

his grin returns. that stupid, stupid, stupid smile. “so yes.”

“maybe.” in reality, you're really just trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

"maybe is good." he smiles, nodding—except you can see the way his fingers twitch like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you already. "i can work with maybe."

your stomach flips, warmth pooling low at the way he says it. "you’re crazy, you know that?" you huff.

"yet you’re still here," he points out, teasing.

"because i tolerate you," you mutter, rolling your eyes for effect, but the second the words leave your mouth, his hands are on you.

he moves fast. you barely have time to gasp before his fingers dig into your waist, pulling you forward.

until suddenly you’re straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips. your hands are on his shoulders for balance. your heart slamming against your ribs as his grip tightens, holding you right where he wants you.

bucky laughs, like he can’t believe you either—and then he’s leaning in, so close his breath fans hot over your lips. "...so?" his voice drops, sending a shiver down your spine. "how’s this gonna work?"

"god, you’re such an—"

he doesn’t let you finish. his mouth crashes into yours, swallowing the rest of your protest in a kiss that’s anything but patient. his lips are warm, and holy shit—he kisses like he’s been waiting forever, like he’s memorized exactly how to make you melt. one hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head just so.

you whimper, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and he hums against your mouth.

yeah. he’s definitely gonna be good at this.

you’re perched on the edge of your bed in that stupid lingerie set he definitely didn’t buy for you, scrolling through your phone like this is just another study session. except your heart is pounding, and the lace is itchy, and then bathroom door creaks open.

bucky steps out, and—oh. oh no.

he’s prepared. like, extensively prepared. you can tell by the way his stubble is gone, his hair meticulously styled with enough gel to survive a hurricane, he shaved properly and well, his cologne is obviously freshly sprayed. he probably scrubbed behind his ears, flossed twice, hell, cleaned his belly button because—“what the fuck,” you say, staring at the notebook in his hands.

he flips a page, all serious, like he’s about to present his thesis with a slideshow, cue cards and everything. “okay, so i did some extensive research—”

“research.”

“—and i have a comprehensive game plan." he clears his throat, finger tracing a line on the notebook. "step one: dedicated foreplay, which i guess is what we're about to do right now but then the kissing, touching and all that stuff. minimum twenty minutes, focusing on—”

you snatch the notebook. his handwriting is neat, bullet-pointed, with little diagrams in the margins. “bucky. did you— did you cite sources?” you point to the bottom of the page. ‘kerner, j. (2018). the neuroscience of intimacy. new york: oxford press.’

his cheeks go pink. “i.... wanted to be thorough.” he mumbles, shifting his weight. "evidence-based practice, you know?"

you burst out laughing, clutching the notebook to your chest as you fall back onto the bed.

“hey!” he pouts with wounded pride, but his eyes keep darting to the way the lace cuts into your thighs. “i’m trying to be professional about this!”

“professional,” you deadpan, flipping through the pages. oh my god. is this— is this a timeline? with… color-coded phases?” you hold up a page showing a literal bar graph labelled ‘anticipated arousal progression’.

“it’s a structured approach!” he insists, reaching for the notebook. “it maximizes efficiency and mutual satisfaction!”

you hold it out of his reach, grinning. “structured. right. so what’s this note in the corner? ‘remember to breathe. don’t lock knees. check in verbally @ T-minus 5 mins’?”

his ears go red, and he's embarrassed, huffing and puffing as you laugh at him. you sit up, still laughing, and he huffs, tossing the notebook aside before suddenly crowding you back onto the mattress. his hands are warm, a little shaky, as they bracket your hips.

“you’re mean,” he murmurs, but he’s smiling. he dips his head, lips brushing a light kiss against the curve of your shoulder, right where the strap of the lingerie bites. the touch sends a jolt straight through you.

“you’re adorable,” you shoot back, your fingers find their way into his stupidly perfect, gel-stiffened, hair, ruffling it slightly.

“adorable?” he pulls back, mock-offended. “i was going for devastatingly seductive.”

“mhm. sure. mission accomplished, soldier.” you tug him closer. “how about you show me step one of that game plan instead of just reading it to me?”

his breath hitches when you arch under him, the heat of his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, the springs groaning softly. the air between you is thick, filled with the anticipation and bucky's nervousness with this whole thing.

"fine. forget the plan," he murmurs, his voice is low and almost a whisper, like he’s barely holding onto control. his hands hover over your hips, fingers twitching like he’s fighting the urge to grab. "just— tell me what you like."

you let out a nervous laugh, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of your body—the delicate lace of your bra, the fabric of your panties clinging to you. his eyes flickers down to your chest. he’s trying (and failing) to be subtle.

"i don’t—i don’t even know where to start," you admit, voice smaller than you meant it to be. the tables have turned completely. now you’re the one drowning in nerves.

bucky’s smirk slides back into place, and he leans down until his lips nearly brushing your forehead, kissing it. your sweet, sweet bestfriend, bucky.

"lucky for you," he says, "i’m patient and great at improvising." his fingers trail up your side, testing, teasing, mapping every curve like he’s memorizing you. you shiver slightly, biting your lip. his touch feather-light, hesitant, unsure. like he’s memorizing sacred territory.

"you’re shaking, love," he says, with no teasing in it—just something warm, almost surprised, like he can’t believe he’s the one making you fall apart. love? the word hangs in the air, momentarily forgotten in the intensity.

"bucky.." you say under breath. his thumb swipes over the edge of your bra, soft skin dragging against the delicate lace.

"you’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?" he grins, but his own nerves bleeding through the act. his eyes drop again, lingering on the swell of your tits, on the peaks of your nipples poking through the lace, the way your chest rises and falls with each unsteady breath as his fingers drag through your body. he looks back up to you, like he’s forcing himself to focus, with his fingers tight on your waist. "tell me if i do something wrong.. or if it feels good. anything. yeah?"

"you literally cited academic sources about neuroscience," you say breathily, a weak, pathetic attempt at levity, but then his mouth finds your neck, and—oh. fuck.

bucky's lips are hesitant at first, then another, tasting your skin, but he eases into it slowly, like he’s taking his sweet time tasting you, learning the landscape.

when you gasp, he groans in response, like he’s just discovered something that changed the course of his life. "fuck," he breathes against your skin, pulling you closer. "you— you sound so good like that. do it again."

you can feel him hard and heavy against your thigh, the heat of him searing even through the thin fabric of his boxers and your panties. the sheer size of him, the insistent pressure, is dizzying.

but bucky is in no rush, taking his time, mapping every reaction like it’s his new favourite subject. the fuckboy act is crumbling, replaced by something painfully earnest.

his mouth is hot as it trails lower, pressing open-mouth and wet kisses along the slope of your breast. then his tongue drags a teasing stripe between your tits, and you whimper, fingers twisting onto his hair. he chuckles against your skin—before his lips close over your nipple through the lace, sucking gently.

"so fuckin’ pretty," he pulls back slightly, murmuring, like he can’t help but tell you how pretty you are. "love how you taste even through this.. like fucking sugar."

the fabric is still a barrier between his mouth and your nipple. sucking with just enough to make you whine, but not enough to fully satisfy either of you. it’s exquisite torture.

all the while, his eyes stay glued on your face, watching every wave of pleasure that hits you, every micro-expression, like he can't believe he's the one making you feel this way.

"you like that, sweetheart?" he hums with his lips still pressed again you. his other hand finds your neglected breast, rolling it between his index and middle finger.

you squirm, hips lifting uselessly, but he doesn’t rush and he definitely doesn’t give you what you want. "you like that, sweetheart?" the question vibrating against the wet lace still covering you. "like me suckin’ on you? like me touchin’ you?" his thumb rubs firm circles over the hardened peak trapped beneath the fabric.

"bucky—please—" you whine again, and he groans in response,like the sound alone is enough to undo him.

"i got you, baby. just wanna take my time. wanna learn you." his eyes hold yours, almost pleading for understanding. "wanna make it good."

then, finally, his fingers hook under the edge of your bra, tugging it down with a painful slowness.

he freezes for a heartbeat. "fuck," he breathes, his eyes raking over your bare chest, drinking in the sight. his gaze is traces the curve of your breast. "so perfect. jesus christ..." he licks his lips, his own arousal a palpable force in the room. "even prettier without it." he doesn’t move for a long moment, just stares, committing the sight to memory.

then his mouth is on you. bucky's mouth sucks hard, and your back immediately arches off his bed. his free hand finds your other breast, kneading and massaging it softly. the sensation is overwhelming, and you squirm beneath him, torn between pressing into his touch and twisting away from the intensity.

"bucky—fuck—" you manage to choke out, and he hums against your skin. the vibration sends another jolt of pleasure straight to your core, you clamp your thighs together instinctively.

"that’s it," he pulls back just enough to speak. "i wanna hear you, sweetheart. i wanna know how good i’m making you feel." he doesn’t slow down, laving the tender spot he’d just sucked, like he’s determined to wring every possible sigh, every moan, every whimper from you before he even thinks about moving lower.

and god, you’re already so close to the edge, just from this—just from his mouth, his hands, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in this room, you’re something sacred he’s finally allowed to worship.

bucky can see it. he sees exactly how close you are and stops abruptly, lifting his head. you gasp, a shocked sound because he's deeply offended you for denying you, but he ignores it, his movements surprisingly swift as he tugs the discarded bra back up.

but then his hand slides down your stomach, over the trembling plane of your abdomen, he finally—finally—slides it between your legs. his curious eyes lock onto yours, because he can’t believe he gets to touch you like this.

"this okay?" bucky asks hesitantly. his eyes are watching you as fingers tracing slow circles over the wet lace of your panties. "am i doing it right?"

you nod, biting your lip to stifle the needy whimper building in your chest, but he catches it. he sees the way you're holding back.

"good," he says, the word exhaled like relief. he leans in so close his nose brushes yours, you could feel his breath hitting your face. "'cause i really wanna hear you. need to. after all, this is my first time. gotta make it count."

his fingers press just a little harder, enough to make your back arch under his touch. "fuck," he says, seeing the way your body responds to him. he’s mesmerized. "you’re so— god, you’re so fucking pretty like this." his thumb drags along the edge of your panties, suddenly going all rough yet shy. "is this okay?"

you nod again, but he doesn’t let you off that easy. "say it," he murmurs against your lips, barely a kiss, just a touch of contact. "need to hear it, sweetheart."

"yes," you gasp, the word breaking, "yes, it’s—fuck, bucky—it’s perfect—"

he groans, low and sweet, his forehead dropping to yours. "you like that? d'you the way i touch you?" his fingers slightly press harder, still careful but enough to make you whine. "tell me, sweetheart."

"i— i like it," you whine as your body chases his touch, your hips moving in circles against his fingers. "so much, bucky."

his lips curl into this stupid, smug, utterly boyish smile, but his cheeks are still pink, his breathing still uneven and shallow as he studies your face. "good," he whispers, nuzzling against your jaw, leaving kisses all over your jaw. you tilt your head back, giving him more access to your neck, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his waist.

"i love how you look in this." his free hand skims up your stomach, tracing the lace of the bra. "knew it’d be perfect on you. pictured it in my head, you know."

"so you've said." you chuckled, hands gripping his waist as he touches you. the way he looks at you,like you’re something precious, something his.. it makes your chest tighten, your heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it.

"just sayin'," he replies, that hint of playful dorkiness surfacing. his fingers move again, sliding lower, beneath the lace barrier this time. he moves slowly, exploring your folds with a focused curiosity, drawing out every tiny gasp, every shudder, like he’s determined to map every sensitive spot, to memorize the exact way you fall apart for him.

you huff a laugh—weak, unsteady, and definitely trying not to show him his effect on you. but his touch does that to you, leaves you unraveled before he’s even really begun. “you’re such a dork, james,” you say under your breath, but he hears it anyway. because of course he does.

his lips brush the corner of your mouth, featherlight, and the most hesitant he's ever been. just the barest graze, because he’s nervous, and you can tell.

it’s stupid, really—he’s kissed you before, countless times, but this feels different. a lot heavier. filled with the weight of what's about to happen. his fingers slip further beneath the lace, still hesitant, and his voice is shaky when he speaks. “this okay?”

“yes—” you gasp, arching into his touch before you can stop yourself. "god, yes."

“this?” his fingers move, just so, a gentle pressure against a spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

“bucky—” his name spills from your lips.

he laughs, breathless, almost giddy, and then his mouth crashes into yours, swallowing every broken sound you make. his kiss is hungry, desperate, but his touch stays careful, achingly tender, like he’s afraid you’ll break.

“jus' wanna make sure,” he murmurs between kisses, each word pressed into your lips like a secret. his fingers move with ease, coaxing you closer, until you’re trembling for an entirely different reason. “wanna do it right. for you.” his forehead rests against yours again, breathing you in. “always for you.”

and god, you hate how much it makes your chest ache—the way he touches you like you’re something precious, something to be cherished, not just taken. he’s memorizing every breath, every moan. like this moment is everything. this is your bestfriend. your bucky. for god's sake, pull it together.

then suddenly your hands press against his chest, flipping you both over and pushing him back gently. for a second, bucky looks up at you, "wha- did i do something wrong?" like he thinks you’re about to leave. his fingers twitch at his sides, curling like he wants to reach for you, to pull you back, but he stops himself, swallowing hard. the way his throat bobs is almost painful, like he’s holding back.

you don’t leave.

instead, you step back just far enough to flick off the light, plunging the room into soft moonlight that spills across the sheets, across his skin. "'s better this way, james. i promise."

his eyes follow you, wide and a little dazed, pupils blown so dark you can barely see the blue. his lips are parted, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he’s already struggling to keep it together.

“lay down,” you murmur, pushing his chest down even further. the command is soft and sweet. your palm presses him down gently but firmly against the solid plane of his chest, urging him deeper into the mattress.

he obeys without hesitation, like a soldier conditioned to follow orders scooting back until his legs dangle off the edge, his fingers digging into the bed like he’s afraid he’ll float away if he doesn’t hold on. like he’s terrified the intensity of the feeling might lift him right off the bed and into the void.

you sink down to your knees. your hands slide up the outside of his thighs, before gently urging them apart, opening him further—a little inhale that makes your stomach flip. the evidence of his arousal is impossible to miss now. you can already see him, how hard he is, how his cock strains against his boxers. he sits up on his elbows, watching you.

“you okay?” you ask. your hands rest warm and heavy on the tops of his thighs, thumbs brushing slow circles into the sensitive skin just above his knees.

he nods, but his voice comes out strangled and reveals more nervousness than he wanted to show. “yeah. just. uh.” he drags his flesh hand over his face, a gesture of flustered embarrassment, muffling his next words slightly. “never done this before.”

you pause. “...never?”

“never.” his cheeks are burning now, even in the dim light. he looks away for a second, focusing on the ceiling. “told you. virgin.”

a soft huff of air escapes you, more affectionate understanding. you bite back a smile, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers. “well,” you say as you tug the fabric down just enough, revealing the flushed head of his cock. “guess i’ll have to teach you that, too.”

his hips jerk when your fingers brush against him, already hard and leaking, the tip slick with precum. “fuck,” he chokes out, his hands fist in the sheets again, twisting the fabric into knots. “you— you don’t have to—” his words are weak and automatic, born of ingrained politeness or fear of expectation.

“i know,” you say, and then you lean in, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh. his whole body shudders, a full-body tremble that rolls through him like a wave. "i want to."

“oh my god,” he whimpers, head thuds back against the mattress.

you grin against his skin. nuzzling into the tender spot just above his knee. then, deliberately slowly, you drag your lips higher, tracing a path up the inner seam of his thigh, “you’re loud, james,"

when you finally wrap your fingers around him, he whispers incoherent words. his cock twitches violently in your hand, and you can’t resist spitting into your palm, watching the way his stomach tenses when you slick him up properly. your thumb swipes over the tip, smearing the pre-cum there, and he makes a noise—a very desperate moan.

“fuck,” bucky gasps, hips jerking up uncontrollably into the tight circle of your fist. “fuck, please—”

you hum, leaning in to press a kiss just below his navel, your fingers still working him with slow, lazy strokes, twisting slightly on the upstroke. “please what?” you ask, tilting your head up to watch his face.

he groans, his fingers twisting in the sheets. “don’t— don’t tease—” bucky begs, his voice breaking in desperation. the blue of his eyes is almost swallowed completely by black now, fixed on you.

“but you’re so fun to tease,” you whisper, and without warning, you lean down and lick a slow, deliberate stripe from the base of his cock all the way up to the flared head, the flat of your tongue dragging firmly against the straining vein underneath.

his hips jerk up his thighs tensing with pleasure under your hands. “oh my god,” he whines, his voice wrecked.

you grin, swirling your tongue lazily around the sensitive crown, tasting the salt and musk. then you suck lightly with just enough pressure to hollow your cheeks slightly, drawing a choked gasp and another desperate thrust of his hips. “you're so sensitive,” you say against him, your fingers kneading his balls, rolling them gently, and he lets out a strangled moan.

“gonna— fuck—” his voice cracks, his hands flying from the sheets to tangle frantically in your hair, fingers clenching and unclenching in the strands. tangling in the strands like he’s not sure whether to pull you closer or push you away. “gonna come if you keep— oh fuck—”

you pull off just enough to laugh, your lips still brushing against the tip. “that's what i'm trying to do.”

“shut up, shut up, shut up, oh my god,” he gasps, the words trembling out of him like they’ve been punched from his chest, but it dissolves into a ragged moan the second your tongue drags over him again. his hips twitch instinctively, chasing his pleasure.

“oh— oh fuck—if you keep doing that—” his voice cracks, fingers scrambling and eventually landing on your hair. “jesus, that’s—i can’t—”

you take him deeper, swallowing him down until the head bumps the back of your throat, and he chokes, his back arching off the bed. “please.”

it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him beg.

and god, you really like it.

you don’t give him a second to recover, surging back down, taking him deep again, your nose brushing the base. you can see the way his entire body shudders. his fingers twist in your hair, tugging helplessly, straining with the effort not to jerk his hips up and lose himself completely in the sensation. your nails dig into his thighs, holding him down as you work him over, his choked-out moans filling the quiet of the room. he's holding himself back from jerking up and fucking your face.

“you can move,” you say, pulling off just enough to speak. a string of saliva connecting you to his cock for a second before it breaks.

his breath hitches, his grip tightening in your hair. “i don’t— i don’t wanna choke you,” he gasps, like the mere thought is too much. he's filled with concern even amidst the overwhelming pleasure, like the idea horrifies him.

“you won’t.” you laugh, before sinking back down, taking him deeper this time, until his thighs shake under your hands,

his fingers tighten in your hair, hesitant for a fraction of a second. but when you hum deep in your throat, the vibration traveling straight through his cock, he breaks—his hips thrust forward with a broken cry, shallow, uncertain thrusts that quickly lose their rhythm.

you can tell he’s close, because his thrusts are getting weaker, he's louder. “i’m— fuck—i’m gonna—” he tries to warn you, but you don’t pull away. he warns you again but you keep working him until eventually, he cums with a loud moan, hot and thick down your throat. the taste is musky, salty, intense. you swallow it all, your fingers tightening on his thighs to keep him still as he convulses.

you don’t let up, not even then. you keep a gentle suction, your tongue lapping softly at his flesh, working him through the waves of his orgasm until he’s trembling, whimpering, his hands pushing weakly and uselessly at your shoulders.

“too much,” he whimpers, tears glistening at the corners of his tightly closed eyes, but his hips still twitch forward, chasing the feeling even as he tries to escape it.

you finally pull back, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh as he collapses, looking up at the ceiling. his fingers trail weakly through your hair, like he’s still not quite sure this is real, convinced this was a dream.

“you’re mean,” he mumbles, pouting— but it's pure awe at the sensations you've dragged from him.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling up at him. the taste of him lingers in your mouth and throat. “so. still think you need a game plan?”

he groans, dragging an arm over his flushed face. suddenly he's everywhere, flipping you over. his solid weight pins you to the mattress, as his hands slide into your hair again, cradling your head. moonlight spills over his face, catching the flutter of his lashes as he hesitates, just for a second.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers.

you nod, and his mouth meets yours—slow, so slow. it’s nothing like you expected, nothing like the rushed, sloppy kisses you’ve had before. it’s a revelation. nothing like the clumsy urgency you’ve known. this is deep water, pulling you under. reverent. his lips move with a sweetness

his tongue traces the seam of your lips, teasing, asking, and when you open for him, he groans deep in his chest. his fingers tighten in your hair, and the sound you make gets swallowed by his mouth.

he pulls back just enough to say, “you’re so fucking pretty,” against your lips before kissing you again, his hips rolling against yours. you can feel him, hard again already, and the realization makes you whimper.

his teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging gently, and when you gasp, he takes the opportunity to trail kisses down your jaw, your neck. “bucky,” you breathe, fingers scrambling at his shoulders.

“yeah, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing the lace of your bra.

“please.”

bucky chuckles, as he nips at the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “tell me what you want.”

you whine, hips lifting, but he stops you, his hand firm on your hip, and says. “use your words.”

“i want—” you could feel your cheeks turning red as you spoke. “i want you to touch me.” you swallow, forcing the words past the sudden shyness.

his eyes lock onto yours, as his fingers slip beneath the lace, skimming the swell of your breast. “like this?”

your answer is a moan, and he whispers, “good,” reverence lacing the word. “just like that. arch for me a bit more.” his praise is a physical touch, warming you from the inside.

his fingers tremble slightly as they unhook the straps of your bra, his eyes flicking up to yours, searching. "can i—?" he doesn't even finish the question before you're nodding, biting your lip as he peels the lace away, taking in a deep breath when your tits finally spill free.

"fuck," he says, staring like he's been handed something sacred. his thumbs brush over your nipples, then firmer when you arch into his touch. "can i—" he swallows hard, "—suck them again? please?"

you nod again, and he doesn't waste time, bending down to take one into his mouth with a groan. but he's too gentle, just soft lips and hesitant flicks of his tongue, like he's afraid of hurting you.

"harder," you gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair. "use your teeth a little—yes, like that."

he moans against you. he's unsure what to do so you take his free one, guiding it firmly to your other breast. he's squeezing your other breast as he obeys, sucking harder, swirling his tongue in the rhythm you showed him earlier, learning fast.

every few seconds, he pulls back to ask, "this okay?" or "you good?" tight with a fear of overstepping, of hurting you. he’s terrified of messing up.

"you're doing so good," you murmur, and the way his hips jerk against yours at the praise is to die for, almost violent in its need. his mouth moves to your other nipple, lapping at it eagerly, his fingers pinching and rolling the wet one he just left behind.

“tell me what else,” he rasps between desperate, open-mouthed kisses scattered across your chest. his eagerness is overwhelming, touching. he's so eager to learn you and what you like. “tell me what you like.”

your hand slides down his arm, guiding his hand lower, past the waistband of your panties. his eyes are on yours, wide and hesitant until his fingers brush the slick heat between your thighs. "fuck, fuck," he chokes out, his fingers are moving clumsily but with somuch enthusiasm. "like this? am i—am i doing it right?" he sounds so innocent, so unsure.

"little higher, buck." you instruct and he obliges. your hand goes to his wrist, helping him find the clit. his desperate, beautiful blue eyes remain locked on yours, watching your face intently, cataloging every flutter of your lashes, every catch in your breath as he begins to circle it.

"yes, oh—that's it—right there," you gasp, your hand still wrapped around his wrist. "just—faster—"

he watches your expression like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, fingers are working you . "you're so fucking perfect," he whispers, like he can't help himself. "gonna make you feel so good, i swear—i'm gonna give you all i have."

his fingers move between your legs, touch growing more confident with every little gasp you let slip. his eyes are trained on your face like you’re sacred to him—his tongue, meanwhile, circles your other nipple lazily, possessively, as if he can’t bear to stop tasting you, claiming you.

“you’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart, so fucking pretty,” he murmurs. his thumb presses firm against your clit, just the way you showed him, and you whine, your hips lifting off the bed. “like this?” he asks, his other hand kneading your breast.

you nod, tugging his hair gently, and his mouth seals over your nipple again. his fingers slide lower, dipping into your heat, and his breath hitches. “fuck,” he whispers against your skin, “you’re so—god, you’re so wet.” the discovery seems to both thrill and overwhelm him.

he’s clumsy, but eager, his fingers curling inside you experimentally, his eyes locked on your face like he’s trying to commit every twitch of your brows, every bitten-off moan to memory. he needs the guidance, craves it. “tell me,” he rasps, “tell me what you want.” he needs the guidance, craves it.

you guide his wrist, showing him the rhythm, and he follows instantly, his forehead dropping to your collarbone as he fucks you with his fingers. “like that?” he asks, lips brushing your skin. "'s that okay?" the constant seeking of reassurance is endearing, grounding.

“yes,” you gasp, and he shudders, pressing closer, his breath hot against your throat, his movements gaining confidence, driven by your response.

“gonna make you come,” he promises, utterly wrecked. “wanna feel it—wanna hear you. please.” the plea is raw, vulnerable.

his fingers become relentless, finding a rhythm that hits that perfect spot inside you. his mouth trails wet and open-mouthed kisses up the column of your neck as he murmurs a stream of broken praise against your skin—so good for me, so perfect, fuck, you feel amazing.

when you finally tip over the edge, his eyes are still fixed on you, filled with open wonder and curiosity. his fingers slow but don’t stop, drawing out every pulsing wave, milking every last tremor from your body as you cry out his name, the sound echoing in the moonlit room.

“holy shit,” he breathes, his own hips rutting helplessly against the mattress. “that was—fuck.”

he collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his fingers still glistening with you. he stares at them for a second, before bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean with a groan.

you blink, momentarily stunned by the raw intimacy of the act. “bucky.”

he flushes, but his grin is shameless. “what? didn’t wanna waste it.” his gaze holds yours. the nervous virgin replaced, for this moment, by a man utterly captivated, utterly claimed. his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, squeezing gently.

you laugh, pulling him in for a kiss, and he melts into it, his hands roaming your body like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch. “so,” he murmurs against your lips, “what’s next?”

you roll him onto his back, straddling his hips, and his breath catches, his hands flying to your waist. pupils blown so wide the blue is just a thin ring. you could feel bucky groan against your lips when you seat your pussy against his cock, fingers curl into his chest.

he can feel the heat of your cunt dragging over his cock, and bucky makes a broken, punched-out sound that makes your stomach flip. his hands clamp down on your hips like he’s trying to hold himself together, but his body betrays him, hips stuttering up in desperate thrusts.

“f-fuck,” he gasps, head falling back against the pillows, “fuck, you—you feel—”

you grind down harder, watching his face unravel—his lips parted, brows knitted, like he’s in pain. his cock twitches beneath you, already leaking, and you can’t help but tease.

“you’re loud,” you murmur, dragging your nails down the line his abs.

“oh god,” he groans, but it’s ruined by the way his hips thrust up when you lift up slightly, just enough to rub the head of his cock against your cunt. “oh my god—please—”

his hands dig into your thighs, forcing you back down. “please,” he chokes out, hips jerking up uselessly as you hover just out of reach. “c’mon, please—fuck, just—just ride me, i can’t—"

you chuckle, grinding down again, the friction making you both gasp. “can’t what, buck?” you tease, leaning closer, your hair falling like a curtain around his face.

he whines, fighting the urge to just flip you over and take what he wants. “you know,” he grits out, eyes wild, “fuckin’—teasing me when i’m—god, i’m dying here—” he arches beneath you, seeking more contact, his cock straining against you.

you lean down, lips brushing his ear. “beg for it.”

he shudders deeply and whimpers, but it’s weak, his hips stuttering up again. “please,” he gasps. “please, i need—need you to fuck me, please—” his voice breaks completely on the last word, raw and utterly exposed.

you sink down on him in one smooth motion, taking him deep, stretching to accommodate him, and the noise he makes is filthy, his back arching off the bed as his cock finally fills you. “fuck,” he sobs, fingers scrambling at your waist, “oh fuck, oh my god—”

you roll your hips slowly. his lips are parted in a silent scream. “that what you wanted?” you murmur, watching his face.

like, full-on, yelps, back arching off the bed as his hands fly to your waist, gripping tightly. “holy shit,” he gasps, eyes wild, “holy shit, you—you’re inside me—” his voice is thick with disbelief.

you freeze, your own breath catching. “...what?” confusion flickers through the haze of pleasure.

he blinks up at you, sweat beading on his forehead. “i mean—i’m inside you. obviously. fuck. words are hard.” a shaky, embarrassed laugh escapes him, colour deepening on his cheeks. “can’t… brain’s not… working…”

you burst out laughing, but it turns into a moan when he rolls his hips experimentally, his cock dragging against your walls, sparking pleasure deep inside. “oh—fuck—” the sensation steals your breath.

bucky just nods frantically, his eyes squeezed shut while he bites his lip, his cock throbbing inside you. “more,” he begs, voice breaking. “please, please—”

you sink down onto him, slow, very slowly, and his mouth falls open, and his eyes close, taking in the pleasure from feeling your cunt wrap around his cock. “oh my god,” he whimpers, his hips bucking up. “oh my fucking god—”

his hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder as he thrusts up, a clumsy, desperate rhythm beginning. “please… don’t stop… feels… feels too good… gonna…” his words dissolve into incoherent gasps and moans, his forehead pressing against yours.

his entire world has narrowed to the place where you are joined, to the heat and pressure, to the sound of your shared breathing, to the desperate, driving need for more.

then suddenly, his eyes are wide with panic and his hands fly to your waist, stopping you. “wait—fuck, wait,” he pants. “condom. we need—fuck, we need a condom.”

“shit,” you curse, scrambling off him so fast he hisses, a sharp intake of breath at the sudden loss of contact. you lunge for your bedside drawer, yanking it open with a clatter, fingers frantic, fishing past loose change and old receipts until you snag a familiar foil packet.

bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, lips parted. “you just… keep those around?” he watches your hands, the crinkle of the foil impossibly loud in the heavy air.

“they’re free at the clinic,” you say, ripping it open with your teeth. you fumble slightly, adrenaline making your fingers clumsy.“grabbed a handful. just in case.”

you roll it onto him. as you roll it onto him. he’s up on his elbows now, muscles in his arms taut, watching intently as your fingers brush his cock, smoothing the latex down his length, and he lets out a laugh. “just in case?” he echoes, a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes – wonder, maybe, that you’d thought of this, thought of him in this way.

you raise an eyebrow like you're questioning his words but don't say anything. back to straddling his hips, you sink back down onto him with a slow roll of your hips. “seems like i was right, huh?”

he bites his bottom lip, whimpering, hands gripping your waist like he’s holding on for dear life. “shush, missy,” he breathes, “and move it, come on.”

you pause, letting him adjust, but he’s already shuddering, his cock twitching inside you. “you okay?” you ask, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

bucky nods frantically, his eyes squeezed shut for a second before flying open, dark and drowning. “so good,” he answers, nodding frantically again like he can’t stop. his hands slide up to cup your breasts, his thumbs finding your nipples and rubbing over them in clumsy circles. “you’re so—fuck, you’re so tight.”

his hips thrust up from beneath you, out of pure desperation, losing the rhythm already, just seeking more, deeper. his cock twitches deep inside as your fingers work frantic circles over your clit. "fuck—fuck—" bucky's voice is low and almost intelligible, but his eyes are locked on where your body takes him, where you’re joined. the sight seems to undo him further..

the condom stretches tight between you, a thin, hated barrier despite him already being buried deep, but the way his tip nudges your sweet spot with the roll of your hips has you gasping, arching, like you can't bear him ever leaving, barrier or not. the stretch, the friction, the sheer him of it is almost too much.

"wait," he blurts suddenly, his body tenses, his abs flexing beneath your palms. "wait, i—i'm not gonna last, i—"

his protest dies in a whine, his teeth sinking into his swollen bottom lip as his orgasm rips through him. you feel it—the way his cock jerks, the way his hips snap up one last time to bury himself to the hilt as he spills into the condom with a choked-off sob. his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to bruise, his thighs trembling beneath you, but you don't stop. you keep riding him, milking every last shudder, every helpless twitch from him as he whimpers your name like a prayer. his head thrashes side to side on the pillow, utterly lost.

"oh my god," he slurs, dazed, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest heaves. his skin glows with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks ruined—just the way you like him. "that was—fuck, i—"

you lean down to kiss him, swallowing his incoherent babbling, and he melts into it instantly, his hands sliding up your back to pull you closer. his lips are soft, pliant against yours, his breath still coming in shaky bursts. "so," you murmur against his mouth, grinning as you grind down just to hear him whine, "still think you needed a game plan?"

he groans, his fingers tightening in your hair as he flips you onto your back with surprising strength for someone who just came his brains out. "shut up," he grumbles, nipping at your jaw before his mouth finds your breast again, his tongue swirling around your nipple in a way that makes you arch off the bed. "i'm not done yet."

you laugh, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as his fingers slide between your legs, his touch already knowing exactly where to press. "bucky—"

"i told you," he murmurs against your skin, his voice dark with promise as his thumb circles your clit, his other hand guiding his cock back to your entrance. the condom's still on, still a nuisance, but the way he looks at you—like he wants to devour you whole—has you dripping all over again. "i'm a fast learner."

and when he pushes back inside, filling you inch by agonizing inch, his eyes never leaving yours, you realize—

he really, really is.

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staley83 · 1 day ago

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ULTRAVIOLENCE

chapter two

. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆. ⸻ Happy Lowman x fem!oc

˳·˖➛ author's note; don't worry, there will be lots of Happy x OC scenes soon!

˳·˖➛ random info; you can find all chapters of this story in my main masterlist {pinned post}, it'll lead you to the right masterlist! every like, comment and/or reblog is welcome and appreciated. 🫶🏻🌼

˳·˖➛ tag list; @sjester42-blog @staley83 @mamawiggers1980 @mayanqueenxx @crescentqueenxx

˳·˖➛ word count; 2155

TARA STILL COULDN'T believe that Abel's kindergarten teacher was actually sitting in front of her, wounded and broken, all because of her husband. Sure, he hadn't inflicted the injuries himself, but he'd ordered it, and something about it didn't sit right with her. All the violence, the liesᅳ she already hated it.

But now her husband was even going after innocent women? Great, perfect.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered under her breath, letting her thoughts flow freely now that she was alone with Brianna in Jax' room. "Just one more stitch and we're done, I promise."

"You could just let me go, let me climb out of that window," Brianna croaked, her voice thick with pain as the needle slid through her skin again. "I already told your husband I'll keep my mouth shut."

As deep as the shock of Abel's parents being involved in all this still sat, the brunette saw a chance to get out of this alive. Tara Knowles, a respected doctor who saved lives every day, would never allow an innocent person to get killed, right?

But unfortunately, her hope was dashed, faster than she had hoped as Tara's next words hit her like a truck. "I can't, I'm sorry."

"Please," Brianna pleaded softly, reaching for Tara's wrist. "I didn't do anything, I don't wanna die!"

Tara could tell the woman was broken beyond repair as fresh tears mixed with dried mascara steaks and traces of blood, dripping from her chin a moment later. It wasn't the things Happy had done to her, Tara could tell; the damage ran deeper, was already embedded.

"Look, I won't let Jax go that far," the doctor began as she put the needle aside to place her hand on Brianna's, their eyes locked. "But you have to promise me that none of this will come back to hurt the club, okay?"

The doctor let out a bitter snort at her own words, hardly believing that she seriously asked the woman to keep something like that to herself. As a doctor, she would normally have to report it. But Jax was still her husband, and until she found a plan to get out of here with the boys, she had to stand behind him.

"I won't," the slightly younger woman promised hastily with a sniffle. "But what makes you so sure he won't kill me?"

"To be honest, I don't know," Tara replied with a sigh as she placed a fresh compress on Brianna's leg before wrapping the bandage around it. "I need you to come to St. Thomas in two days to change all that again. Ask for Dr. Knowles, don't tell them why you want to see me."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Brianna felt a certain apathy creep in. "Sure, if I'm still alive in two days I'll do just that."

Silence stretched, an unspoken tension lingering between the two. This wasn't how Brianna had imagined her first day off of the year. Kidnapped, tormented, not knowing if she would even see the end of the dayᅳ and her fate depended on whether or not her father would show up.

ᅳ

HOURS PASSED WITHOUT Brianna hearing anything from the others. She was still sitting at the foot of the bed, which stood in the middle of the room Tara had brought her to earlier. The throbbing in her thigh was returning, the effects of the painkillers slowly wearing offᅳ but Brianna decided against taking more, after all, Tara had left her a whole box.

But pain was something Brianna found comfort in; but that still didn't mean she wanted to die, especially not like this.

Thousands of thoughts swirled around in her head, and at the same time, she felt completely numb, empty. Why couldn't she have a normal father? Hours ago, she had left a message on his voicemail on Jax' behalf, giving him precise details of where she was and what would happen if he didn't show up.

Deep down, she knew he had listened to her message; he always had his phone with him so he could reach his dealer at any time of the day. Did he really care enough about her or would he just let her die? She couldn't imagine that, no matter how wrecked her father was.

When the door flung open without any warning, Brianna flinched and instinctively slid further back on the mattress as Happy stepped into the room, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his heavy boots. This had to be the end of her, right?

"Please don't kill me," she pleaded with him, wide-eyed, shaking her head vigorously as Happy grabbed her arm to pull her to her feet; surprisingly gently. "Just let me talk to that guy from earlier again, please! Jax, right?"

"You really don't know when to shut up, do you?" His hard stare met her frightened one, slight annoyance in his own, as if he didn't want to do any of this at all. "Your old man showed up."

Brianna's face fell, her voice getting lost for a second as she blinked several times while letting Happy pull her into the hallway. "My dad's here? He actually showed up?"

"That's what I just said," the SAA grunted with a shake of his head before reaching the main room, roughly shoving the brunette toward the man they'd been waiting for.

Tall, lean, dark hair with grey streaks and a salt and pepper beard. Barely able to keep his eyes open, yet they grew twice their size as he was able to catch his daughter in time before she'd hit the ground.

"What the hell did you do to her?!" John's voice trembled with genuine concern and anger as his daughter practically stumbled into his arms, whimpering painfully as she put too much weight on her injured leg. "What I'm doing got nothin' to do with her!"

Full of concern, he reached up to cup his daughter's face, eyes glazed overᅳ not sure if from all the booze and drugs or because it genuinely hurt him to see his only child like this. She was wearing her zip hoodie again, which meant he couldn't see half of the injuries, but her bandaged leg was enough, as was her face, which still had dried blood on it.

"Nah man, you stole from us, and not just a few dollars or somethin'," Jax began, Chibs, Tig, and Happy standing behind him, clearly pissed and ready to fight the man that they had trusted for years. "You stole guns and put us in a pretty tricky situation."

Jax' voice dripped with mockery, a dirty grin on his lips, cigarette between two fingers, which he pointed in John's face as he walked up to him. "You left us no choice. But since we're nice fellas," the blonde biker exhaled exaggeratedly. "We can make a deal. I hope you still have the guns?"

"You still had no right to hurt my daughter," he pressed through gritted teeth, his arms already wrapped protectively around his daughter. "You let her go, then you get the guns back. They're all still in my trunk, you can take a look."

Jax' voice dropped low, dangerously, his eyes narrowed. "You really think you can still make demands, John?"

"No, and I'll take whatever comes my way," John muttered with an angry snort, muscles in his jaw twitching beneath his beard. "But you used my daughter to get to me; shit isn't fair."

"Maybe it wasn't, no," Jax agreed with a slow roll of his shoulders, smoke slipping past his lips as his eyes landed on Brianna, sniffling in her father's arms. "It was nothin' personal, darlin', and of course you're free to go."

"Are we sure about this, Pres?" Brianna watched as the man with the black curls stepped forward, skepticism etched into his features. "What if she doesn't keep her mouth shut? She'll ruin us all."

"I don't think that's what t' lass will do," another man with a thick Scottish accent chimed in, his warm gaze meeting Brianna's. "She's a good one, ye' can tell."

"She won't say anything," Happy croaked, his eyes never leaving Brianna, his gaze hard but fair. Not that he cared what happened to the brunette, but it was a simple factᅳ he could say 99 percent that she was an honest soul. "But the final word is yours, boss" he added, looking at Jax.

"I'm with Hap and Chibs, she won't say anythin'," he said confidently, ending the discussion. His gaze shifted to Brianna again, a small, apologetic smile gracing his lips. "You're free to go. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Relief washed over Brianna, an extreme weight lifted from her shouldersᅳ until she realized it was only her they let go. Helplessly, her gaze wandered from her father to Jax. "What's goin' to happen to my dad?"

Jax' gaze was already locked on John, a trail of smoke curling up his lips. "That's none of your business, darlin'. Your father knows what's goin' to happen."

Her chest filling with panic, the brunette stared up at her father. "I'm not going anywhere, not without you."

"Hey, listen to me, baby." Wistful eyes looked down at his daughter as he cupped her face in his hands again, followed by a shallow, sad laugh. "I've put you through enough, and you know that. You get out of here, you hear me? I'll be okay."

"No, you won't," Brianna croaked, her voice cracking, her lips quivering. "You're the only one I have left besides Brenda."

"I finally have to answer for all my shit, Bri," John sighed, his alcohol-fueled breath hitching as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "I love you, and I'm so proud of the woman you became. But you gotta go now."

For the first time, Brianna wasn't angry that her father was drunk, that he could barely stand up straight; she just wanted him to get out of here alive. "I love you too, Dad. Butᅳ"

"No buts," he cut her off sternly, gently squeezing her face before releasing her face from his hands, sending her one last small smile before turning to Jax. "I don't want her to watch."

As a father himself, that was something Jax could understand. Cigarette dangling from his lips, he nodded in Happy's direction. "Get her outta here, make sure she doesn't come back inside."

"Yes, boss," Happy croaked, already crossing the room until his large hand closed around Brianna's slim arm. "Come on."

"No, please!" Helplessly, she tried to hold on to her father's dusty coat, so tightly she tore holes in the fabric as Happy dragged her away, his arm now firmly placed around her waist, while her father just avoided her gaze and let it all happen. "You can't kill him, please!"

Her words faded as Happy practically carried her out of the clubhouse, her feet barely touching the ground, and the heavy door slammed shut. Once outside, the SAA grabbed her chin roughly, his gaze dead serious.

"You better shut up now and pull these up," he barked, pulling the cap of her hoodie over her head, making sure it was halfway covering her face. "Go home. Make sure not too many people see you."

The sun hung low, disappearing behind the higher buildings, and the streets were almost empty. The sad thing was, her look wouldn't even attract much attention in this part or the neighborhood. Through the shorts Tara had given her earlier, her bandaged leg was exposed, only sporadically cleaned, her face framed by her messy hair; a really pretty faceᅳ not that Happy would be impressed by it.

"Please, you can't kill him," she cried out, those doe eyes searching for Happy's. "Beat the shit out of him, ban him from the premises, do whatever you need, but please don't kill him," she blurted out, sobs ripping through her petite body. "I'll make sure he never steals from you again, I promise!"

"The fuck are you still defending him? He didn't show up for hours" he asked, genuinely interested. But then he realized he didn't really care after all, and pushed her toward the gate. "Not a word to anyone, understand?"

"Fuck you, all of you bastards!" Brianna stumbled against the gate, her back slamming against the hard bars, drawing a groan from her.

It was hopeless to keep begging, and she knew it. This was sapping the last of her remaining energy from her bones, and, with her gaze downcast and her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her hoodie, she turned on her heels, heading for her house that was only fifteen minutes away. She didn't feel human, more like a robot just supposed to function. All she could do now was hope that her father would find a way out of this tricky situation, like he usually did.

Little did she know that this wasn't the last time she'd seen the Sons.

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staley83 · 3 days ago

Text

Honey

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Freshly escaped from Hydra Bucky comes to the tower after Steve finds him. You weren’t supposed to meet him as soon as you did but you quickly become the person he’s the most comfortable around.

Word Count: 8207

A/n: I was really missing old Avengers tower fics when I started this so tada enjoy an avengers tower fic in the year 2025

Bucky Masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes, Caps best friend and The Winter Soldier. You weren’t technically supposed to be out to meet him when Steve brought him back to the tower after finding him from his escape from Hydra. Tony made it clear that because no one can tell just how dangerous he’d be that no regular agents should be in the building. And though you weren’t just a regular agent, you helped him and Bruce out in their lab more than anything and because you were close with the man himself you lived there like you were an avenger yourself, Tony had instructed you to stay in your room.

Which shouldn’t have been hard since the rooms are all apartmentesque with kitchens and bathrooms. But you hate feeling cooped up and in your defense they did get there at least an hour earlier than they were supposed to. So you had been eating a snack on the couch in the common room watching a horror show on Netflix when they, he, showed up. You were so pulled into it that you didn’t hear them get out of the elevator or Steve tell him he’d get him some food and direct him to the common room.

“Shit!” You caught him out of the corner of your eye when leaning over to put your drink down. He was standing in the entrance, his eyes observing you from afar gaging your threat levels. Your hand flew to your chest as his sudden presence scares you more than he himself. “You guys weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

You stood up then turning the tv off before going to introduce yourself. He stands up straighter, more rigid somehow than before, and takes a small almost unnoticeable step back. You notice it though part of your training was to be able to take in small things like that in.

“Oh!” You stop in your tracks before grabbing the hem of your baggy shirt and pulling it up to just below your breasts and doing a turn to show that you don’t have any weapons hidden away in your sleep shorts. “Look no weapons, I'm clean as a whistle! I’d pull it all the way up but just between you and me,” you lean forward to whisper towards him, “I don’t have a bra on.” You drop the shirt and take two more steps forward before holding your hand out as far as you could towards him. You wanted him to be able to come to you. “I’m y/n!” He had taken a step forward just before Steve showed up.

“What are you doing here? Tony said you’d be in your room.” He stood in front of Bucky not to block his view of you but to stay in between you two in case the Winter Soldier came out and you dropped your arm.

“Well you’re early and I don’t much like feeling like a prisoner in my own home. Besides,” you spoke as you leaned around Steve to have a look at Bucky again, “he doesn’t seem all that dangerous right now.” You smile at him and send him a wink before going back to standing straight.

“Get out of here kid. He’s got to get settled before meeting anyone.”

“Fine.” You pouted before leaving to go back to your room, sneaking in a wave and another smile to the new super soldier in the building when you caught him watching you.

What you didn’t know is that Bucky had taken a step to follow you. The Winter Soldier in him, the majority of him at the moment, had taken a look at you smiling sweetly at him and showing you weren’t a threat and decided you were his next mission. That he had to keep you safe. He would have followed you if it weren’t for Steve placing a gentle yet strong hand on his shoulder and directing him to the table where he had put heated up leftovers down for him to eat.

You didn’t get to meet him the next day. Tony had him on lockdown in his own room to watch him, make sure he wouldn’t snap and go all killer on everyone. Which you thought was just a tad unfair, even though you got it, seeing as he purposely escaped Hydra and has been nothing but compliant since he showed up. And since he had found out you were out when they arrived, because Steve’s a goddamn snitch, Tony reamed your ass out going on about safety and blah blah blah. You had zoned out while he talked only coming back to when he turned to Steve about keeping someone on watching Bucky’s door.

So the next time you had been able to meet Bucky it had been because you pulled a Clint and went through the vents knowing that if anyone heard it they’d assume it was him and that all the vents in the rooms aren’t up high so they’d be easy to get out of.

Bucky was on high alert after hearing the clang of the vent covering landing on the wood floor. He didn’t need to look for a weapon or anything; his arm was all he needed so he just posted up next to the opening ready to get the jump on whoever or whatever came out. His defenses lowered a little when he had heard the soft curse that fell from your lips. He still grabbed you by the back of your hoodie when you emerged pulling you up as if you were still a threat.

“Woah big guy it’s just me!” You smile at him despite the yelp that escaped you when you were grabbed. Upon recognizing your sweet smile he lets you go and crosses his arms in front of him. “Snuck over so you weren’t all alone, Tony’s got Nat watching the door like a hawk right now.” He doesn’t say anything to you, doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even move much really. “Brought a bag of snacks. It's still in the vent if you wanna be the one to grab it and check to make sure it’s not a bomb or anything.” He still doesn’t move standing stock still his eyes fixated on you. “Okay then.” You crouch and reach in pulling your book bag out feeling his steely gaze the whole time suddenly unsure about this whole plan. Once it’s out and on the floor in front of you, you unzip it and hold it open for Bucky to examine the few bags of snacks inside.

“Man, I forgot how bare the new rooms are.” You speak again after getting up and glancing around. You move deeper into the room abandoning the bag. He looks down at the what should be used as a tactical bag but is instead stuffed with snacks and what looks like a blanket at the bottom peeking out from between the bags at his feet. His eyes wander from it to you who’s rummaging through his kitchen as if there’s no boundaries and he couldn’t just kill you for crossing any if he wanted to.

“So what do you wanna be called?” You come back into the living room area and look at him just as he finishes zipping the bag back up and standing with it in his hand.

“What?” His voice is rough and a little hoarse probably from all the screaming from what Hydra probably did to him. Which you don’t know the extent of but just knowing Hydra it doesn’t take a genius to know they most definitely tortured the man in front of you. His vocal cords must be so damaged and you make a mental note to make him tea with honey.

“Well I mean you’re not The Winter Soldier anymore so I won’t call you that and I’ll be caught dead before I call you Soldat like Hydra did. But also James feels so formal and I’m sure you don’t exactly feel like you’re back to being Bucky yet.” You had seen how uncomfortable he looked the few times you saw Steve use the old nickname. “So what would you like me to call you?”

“I…I don’t know.” He deflates only a little, barely noticeable but you still catch it.

“That’s okay we don’t have to use names or anything!” You send a sweet smile his way before continuing. “But if you figure it out just let me know Honey!” He straightens up at the pet name almost as if he’s standing at attention and you take note of it before reaching down to slowly, carefully, take the bag from his metal hand. You hate that it feels like you’re treating him like a stray dog in how careful and slow your movements are. You only hope that he doesn’t take it to be you’re scared of him. He doesn’t, he understands you’re just trying to make sure he knows you’re not a threat. He appreciates it really, he has to stop his instincts from kicking in each time Steve goes to wrap an arm around his shoulder instead just flinching away from him before he can be touched knowing that if he did actually get an arm around him Steve would end up on the ground in no time.

“Now how about a movie or something?”

When Grown Ups is over and the second one is started there’s a commotion from outside the door.

“Must be the changing of the guards. Who do you think they roped into watching your door now?” Bucky only shrugs when you glance his way before there’s someone trying to get in before realizing the doors locked and knocking.

“Bucky it’s me.” Steve’s voice rings out and your face scrunches up at the fact that he had tried to just barge in. “Tony said we have to check on you at each watch shift. So you gotta let me in, man.”

Your eyes go wide and you look back at Bucky in a bit of a panic before rushing to throw the unopened snacks in your bag and get it zipped up. Bucky stands when you do and follows you in your rush to get back to the vent in the floor. Your panic is enough to make him begin to panic just a little.

“Buck? You there?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” His eyes never leave where you’re standing in between him and the wall.

“Feel free to finish the movie if you want Honey. I've seen it plenty of times.” You whisper to him as you crouch and toss the bag into the vent. “I’ll come by again tomorrow if I have a chance, maybe make you watch an animated movie next.” He doesn’t want you to leave at all and he balls his fists up at his sides to stop himself from following you into it instead just watching as you wave before grabbing the grate and popping it back into the wall.

“Hey man, how're you doing?” You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop but you can’t help it as you hear Bucky open the door and Steve greets him. “What’re you watching?”

“Just clicked on something and it started going.”

“Yeah, I’ll teach you how to use the tv. It was confusing for me at first too.” You wanna laugh at how Steve assumes Bucky just couldn’t figure out how to work the tv but instead press a hand to your mouth. “Where’d you get the blanket?” At that you want to groan and bang your head against the vent realizing you left the blanket you had packed on the couch in your hurry to leave.

“Found it in a closet.” You can picture Bucky shrugging as he answers and begin to crawl your way back to your room missing how the two super soldiers glance at the vent and how Steve says something about Clint being up to it again.

The next day you’re in the lab with Tony and Bruce for most of it helping them design a new arm for Bucky. Which when Tony had brought up doing you were the first person to volunteer to help, not that there was anyone else that really could. And after studying the scan Tony did of it when Bucky arrived the three of you agreed that he definitely needs a better one. Hydra hadn’t taken into consideration that they were working on a human being at all when they installed his current one, not one of you actually expected that from them.

The arm itself is sloppily fused to actual bone and the only thing he would be able to feel from the arm is pain. The workings and wirings of it only being tapped into his pain nerve endings rather than just not connecting to any. Which you’re all positive Hydra did on purpose. You didn’t even realize connecting to any was possible until Bruce pointed it out and Tony explained it to you. You were quick though to ask if connecting to all of it was possible in the new arm. Tony said it would take more time to do than if it wasn’t but that yes it was possible and that yes, he had answered before you could ask, that would be a feature they’d include with the new one.

Since you were busy doing that you can’t sneak away to visit Bucky until late. You almost don’t but you told him you would and didn’t want him to feel forgotten. It’s halfway to eleven when you pop open the vent. Bucky’s on alert as soon as it comes off the wall having spent most of the day glancing over and watching it. He stands arms crossed across his chest and your hand shoots out in a wave.

“Hey Honey it’s just me!” You announce yourself before sticking your head out to smile at the super soldier standing next to the vent. “Sorry it’s so late. I was in the lab all day.” You yawn as you push yourself out and onto the floor. You lay there for a few seconds fighting the urge to just curl up and go to sleep, something you fought the whole time you crawled your way over, before getting up and facing Bucky. “It’s been a long day. How’s yours been?”

“Fine.” He watches as you walk over to the couch before collapsing yourself into the corner of it.

“C'mon give me more than that, what’d you do all day in here?”

“Steve showed me the tv.” He gestures to the remote in front of you taking two steps closer to you.

“Is that it?” He nods. “You can’t possibly just sit in your thoughts all day.” As you look at him and he looks right back at you, you realize he does. And you’d bet your life it isn’t fun considering his past and just how recent his break from Hydra is.

“Well I’ll try to remember to bring cards or a puzzle or something next time so you have something else to do. Now c'mon I won’t bite you, yet.” You pat the couch next to you and give him a teasing smile successfully coaxing him over. “It’s a little late but do you want to watch a movie? I could put on a tv show though too. Whatever you’d like.”

“Movie’s fine.”

Throughout How To Train Your Dragon, which you put on because from what you’ve heard about Bucky in the 40s from Steve he seems like someone who’d enjoy dragons, you can’t stop your eyes from trailing over to his arm. You don’t want him to feel like you’re judging him for it so you keep the glances you do take to a minimum. It’s not until halfway through the movie when Bucky’s relaxed into the couch more than he was that you reach a hand out to touch it and he pulls away. Later you’ll laugh about how it parallels the scene where Hiccup tries to touch Toothless.

“Can I?” You ask just holding your hand out for Bucky to decide if he wants to put his arm in your hands or not. He hesitates, not sure why you’d want to touch it, not sure if he trusts that you won’t use it against him the way it has been before. But one look at your curious eyes has him following the silent orders that your outstretched hands give him.

Once the arm is in your hands you scoot closer to him causing him to stiffen up at your proximity. The winter soldier in him preparing for the pain that normally comes when a handler takes a look at his arm. He wouldn’t lash out and hurt you if it did come though, not when you were his unofficial mission. But pain never comes and when he glances back over to you from the movie you’re delicately running your fingers over the metal plates that make up his arm. He relaxes into the couch again and you can’t help the small smile that appears on your face.

“Can you really not feel this?”

“No. They said it was unnecessary.”

“But you’d feel it if I shot you right here?” You draw a circle on his arm with your finger before tapping the middle of it. Bucky nods wishing with all his might he could feel your kind, soft, touch even a little bit. “That’s such bullshit!” Your voice is still soft through your exclamation and Bucky can’t help but wonder how someone could be soft and yet sound so angry at the same time. And he can’t help the almost suffocating feeling in his chest that your anger is for him rather than at him. Something he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced before, even with memories coming back to him more and more as the days go by.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs, wanting to escape that feeling.

“It’s not.” You look up at him, absoluteness in your voice and written all over your face. It causes his breath to catch and he turns back to the movie playing letting you continue to examine the metal arm he hates so much.

You eventually doze off, head resting on his shoulder. Bucky doesn’t notice until the movie’s over though having been too pulled into it just the way you had hoped. He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t think you meant to fall asleep and let your guard down that much around him in the first place though. You had, the moment you were done looking at his arm you had wrapped your arm around his before resting your head down on it and letting the sleep that had been biting at your heels since you left the lab catch up with you.

Bucky’s slow in his movements, using his flesh hand to block your hair from getting caught in the metal plates of his arm, something he had done a lot after his own grew out and he’d try to use the metal hand to push it out of his face, before adjusting his arm to face the couch instead of your body your head falling to his chest then. He taps your face a few times to try to wake you before moving to shaking your shoulder. The only result he gets is you squirming in your sleep and digging your face farther into his chest. He doesn’t want to resort to the violence that had been used on him to wake him up, not on you at least but maybe on Steve or any of the others, so he picks you up and carries to to the untouched bed in his room watching as you bury into the covers as he puts them on you.

You don’t show any signs of waking up even the slightest the whole time causing the soldier in him to worry. If you don’t wake up to being nudged or carried then would you wake up if there was an intruder. The thought only brings the winter soldier in him further to the forefront as he sits and watches the door.

You cringe at the sound of your alarm when it goes off in the morning. You feel so groggy and out of it as you try to find your phone confused when it’s not plugged in next to your pillow the way it normally is. You’re confused when you find it in your pocket until you open your eyes and realize you’re not in your room. You’re still disoriented as you sit up but remember that you fell asleep on Bucky’s couch at least.

“Honey?” Your voice is a little raspy as sleep clogs your vocal chords and Bucky only turns his head slightly so he can still keep an eye on the open bedroom door. “Did you carry me to bed?”

“Couldn’t wake you up.”

“Oh that hasn’t happened in a while.” You’re normally a light sleeper having woken up to the soft thump of your cat jumping off of your own bed multiple times before. “You must make me feel safe.” And he does even with how nervous everyone seems to be about him falling back into being the winter soldier. Bucky’s heart does somersaults as you speak the words, pride swelling in his chest that he’s successful in that part of his mission. You swing your legs over the side and stretch before checking the time on your phone, four in the morning.

“Did you sleep?” Bucky shakes his head and you frown while standing. “Well I have to get to the lab, we’re working on something big and exciting. You should try to get some sleep alright?” You head into the bathroom knowing there’d be a couple spare toothbrushes in the mirror like there always is in the empty rooms of the tower. When you come out he’s still in the same spot. “You didn’t change into pjs or anything? C’mon get up.”

You don’t even think about it first in your sleep disoriented state before grabbing at his arm and pulling to get him to stand. The Bucky part of him comes back and he plays along faking a stumble to make it seem more like you had successfully pulled him up rather than him getting up on his own. Light laughter falls from your lips and a small smile appears on his face at the sound.

“Here. At least change your shirt, you’ve been in the same clothes for at least two days now.” You turn from where you had been rummaging in the dresser and shove a clean shirt in his hands. Bucky just places it on the bed before taking his old one off without thinking. He never had to in the recent past, if he was granted new clothes to change into at the Hydra facility there’d always be someone there watching. It’s not until your breathing hitches and he sees your eyes lock onto the shoulder the arm is attached to that he becomes self conscious about the scarring there. He’s quick to put the new one on hating the look in your eyes.

“Okay you get some sleep, take a shower when you wake up. I won’t be able to stop by later but I’ll probably come by tomorrow at some point okay Honey?” Bucky nods and holds himself back from following you as you leave the bedroom and back into the vent to get to your room to change before going to the lab.

You end up beating Tony and Bruce to the lab, not by much but they’re both shocked when they show up at six to find you looking at the projected blueprints you’d all been working on the day before. The second thought you’d had after seeing the scars at the seam of metal and flesh had been to tweak the plans so it could be detachable. The first one being ‘oh god I can’t believe he’s gone through so much pain’ .

“What’re you doing here already, worker bee?” Tony asks the nickname he gave you after that first long night in the lab with them rolling off his tongue and leading into a yawn.

“Woke up with an idea for the arm.” You zoom into where the arm is set to connect to the shoulder before swiping it away to show how you worked out it could be done. “Thought we could make it so his arm could be removed.” You take a sip of your energy drink as the two men take their spots on either side of you.

“What made you think of this?” It’s Bruce this time who speaks hand on chin in thought. “It could work though.”

“I don’t know. Had a dream about it and thought maybe it would be easier to clean or maybe to sleep.” You couldn’t exactly tell them that you thought maybe if he could remove it he wouldn’t have the urge to try to claw it out the way the scars hint to.

“You’ve been spending too much time in the lab with us if you’re dreaming about things kid. But it definitely could work, we’d just have to-” Tony trails off as he brings the hologram closer to him from where Bruce was studying it with a swipe of his hand and begins to toy with the way it could connect in a way that it could still work with the nerve endings.

You’re only in the lab for a couple of hours. You help the two of them fine tune the design ideas bouncing between the three of you. And then Tony’s ushering you out of the lab so he can get to work on actually making it seeing as that’s his expertise. You had argued that you could still help but you’re prone to dropping the smaller parts he needs when he builds anything and it ends with the two of you crawling around on the ground to find them, so it’d be quicker if you didn’t.

As tiring as it can be working throughout the days with them you do find it rather peaceful and you’re always happy to work through lunch the three of you eating takeout as you continue to work. Tony and Bruce were like the, much, older brothers you never had with how close the three of you are. Not that you aren’t close with the other Avengers, you spend a lot of time with all of them since you share living spaces with them, just some you’re closer to than others.

“So how’s watching Bucky’s door? As boring as it sounds?” You ask Natasha later in the gym as you hold the punching bag steady for her.

“The guy doesn’t even make a peep when I’m stuck sitting there. It’s a waste of my time and Stark should just have Steve on watch duty. It’s his childhood friend not mine.” You can hear the eye roll in her voice and can tell how annoyed she is with it.

“I don’t get why Tony has anyone sitting there if he’s not doing anything.” She stops punching and puts her hands on her hips while she peers around the bag to look at you with an exasperated look on her face.

“You’re joking. You’re part of the reason we have to, miss I’m going to be out of my room when he gets here and try to approach a very extremely recent ex Hydra assassin.” You cringe at her words knowing they’re true, the watch shifts are more for keeping you out than keeping him in. Not that it’s stopping you. “Now we actually have to wrap this up because I’m due to play watch dog in an hour so Steve can get his training in.”

After the gym with Nat you head to your room to shower and get ready for a comfortable night in with a book and your cat curled up on your lap. You decide that before you sit down though to check on Tony’s progress knowing almost without a doubt that he’s still gonna be in the lab. You stop by the kitchen to get him some food, burgers Clint was still working on making for dinner, knowing that he wouldn’t have eaten yet. You made one for yourself and one for him avoiding Clint's hands as they try to shoo you away playfully claiming you can’t take food before it’s all ready and head down to the lab again.

“Tony Bologna!” Your sing song voice greets the man before he can see you. “Brought you some food Clint was making your favorite.” You set the plates down at one of the clear work benches. “How’s the arm coming along?”

“I just can’t keep you out of this lab, can I worker bee?” He finishes up something real quick before spinning the stool around to face you. “It’s taking longer than I originally thought it would but it should still be ready in probably two days or so, depending on how much you come annoy me.” He playfully bumps his shoulder into yours after wheeling over to sit next to you.

“So am I just banned from the lab until it’s done?” You laugh knowing he doesn’t mean any harm by it.

“Wish I could tell you yes but you’ll find your way down here regardless. Just try to stay away, yeah? Wanna get this arm done with as soon as I can so Nat can stop complaining about guard duty.”

“You letting him out and about after it’s finished?” You speak around a bite of food.

“Yeah, gets out for good behavior.” The two of you eat in comfortable silence then with you trying to hide your excited smile.

Tony does end up finishing the arm in a couple days. Steve brings Bucky to the med bay as Tony and Bruce get it ready for the surgery it’ll take to remove the old one and install the new one. You get to be the first face he sees when he enters immediately taking a step towards you only stopping from continuing on when there’s a subtle shake of your head telling him not to. You give him a polite smile like you haven’t been spending most of your free time with him.

“What’s going on?” He asks as he notices the scrubs you and the two older men are in and the doctor in the corner of the room.

“Hi Bucky!” You cringe inwardly as you use the name and Bucky frowns at your use of it. “I can explain everything to you if you wanna come have a seat over here.” You direct him to a seat near the surgical table, hating that you can sense his panic. His eyes go wide like a stray dog feeling threatened as he gets a glimpse of the table and the tools next to it. “Steve, you can go now.”

“Oh uh, I’m actually supposed to stay.” He looks at Tony before looking back at you and you stop the eye roll that wants to happen.

“Can you go get me some water then? I’m a little parched.” You hope he doesn’t recognize your water bottle in the room just wanting him gone so you can whisper encouraging things to Bucky without anyone hearing. He nods after getting a nod in approval from Tony and heads out while you take a seat next to Bucky.

“It’s gonna be okay Honey.” You whisper wrapping your pinky around his flesh one and the man next to you relaxes a bit. “So you’re here today so we can remove that arm of yours and replace it with dun da da da one of our own design!” You smile as you say it, motioning to the black and gold one on the table next to you. You glance to make sure no one else in the room is looking before you take his hand to pull him up and towards the table so he can get a better look at it.

“This here is obviously the arm itself, but this piece is what’s permanently going to be in your shoulder so you can remove the arm as you please.” You point to each piece you talk about your eyes glowing with excitement to finally be telling him about it. His eyes go wide and his head snaps over to look at you with the news, his hand going to touch his shoulder through his shirt. He knows that’s a feature you added because of the scars there, from when he used to try to claw the damn thing out when it would get too uncomfortable after a long mission of using it.

“We’re going to have to put you under so we can actually do the surgery if that’s okay Honey?” The pet name is whispered so everyone else can’t hear it and Bucky nods unsure because he’s never been put under for anything before. He’d either just have to suffer through it or he’d pass out from the pain of it all.

“Wonderful! Now we’ll need you to take your shirt off and hop right on up on this table to lay down. Oh thanks Stevie.” You thank the man who hands you a cup of water drinking it to keep up the act of needing it while Bucky follows your order like the good soldier he is. But once he’s down and Bruce starts putting the restraints around him he gets that wild look in his eyes again like he’s about to do anything he can to get away. And while this causes Steve’s guard to come up, him taking a step closer ready to subdue his friend if need be, you step over under the guise of helping Bruce when in actuality you’re just there to rub your hand up and down his arm in a soothing way.

“Bucky, I’m Doctor Cho. I'll be assisting these three so nothing goes wrong.” The doctor in the room steps up to him with a friendly smile on her face as she looks down at him. “Like y/n said we’ll be knocking you out so it’s going to be over before you even know it. After the surgery it’s likely you’ll be a little sore but with how quickly you super soldiers heal there shouldn’t be any big pain when you wake up from the anaesthesia.”

“And then you’re free from your room prison!” You cheer from the other side of him and Tony playfully slaps you on the back of the head. Bucky’s hands clench into fists at him hitting you but he doesn’t try to lunge or anything, your laughter at Tony’s action stopping it before it can begin. “What? It’s true, you said you’d be letting him out.”

“You ready?” Bruce asks the man strapped down in front of him not enjoying the view of it any more than Bucky’s enjoying it.

“It’s not like he has a choice.” Tony says as he brings the mask over Bucky’s face. The last thing he takes in is the feel of your thumb rubbing small hidden circles on his arm in a comforting way.

When Bucky wakes up and tries to sit up only to find he’s strapped down still he panics not wanting to be back in Hydra’s lab. He calms though when he hears your laughter, the sound reminding him he’s not with Hydra and won’t be again. His eyes open and he scans the room searching for you. And like you can feel his searching eyes you turn your head just as he finds you smiling at him.

“Hey there Soldier, you made it out alive!” There’s a laughter to your voice that makes him not mind being called soldier and as Bruce’s attention turns to him you mouth a ‘hi honey’ to him with a wave. Tony’s not in the room he had a date with Pepper to get to and you had to convince him to agree to you staying for when Bucky woke up. He was nervous being under and waking up strapped to a table would snap him back into being the winter soldier but you insisted you would be fine even if that happened because of Steve and Bruce both being in the room.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks, coming closer to the bed with you and Steve following close behind.

“Fine.” Bucky grunts out and with the reassurance that he’s not feeling like a killing machine Bruce and Steve move to undo his restraints with you standing close by so you can do your job to ask him questions and tell him about his new arm.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” You ask him as they finish with Bruce moving to talk to Helen in the corner of the med bay and Steve hovers close to the two of you.

“Sore.” Bucky sits up and his flesh hand goes to his shoulder as if to massage it.

“With your healing that shouldn’t last too much longer, maybe the rest of the day but you should be back to a new normal by tomorrow. Wanna know all the new fun features of this new arm?” Bucky nods with a small smile starting to play on his lips, something Steve notices and smiles himself excited that his friend is showing through the cracks more.

“First things first say adios to feeling any major pain from your arm, at most there should just be a sting.” It had been easy to convince Bruce that Bucky had been in enough pain from Hydra and that when connecting to the nerve endings you could all leave the pain ones out of the equation. Tony took a little bit more convincing but with it being two against one he caved.

“You’ll also be able to feel whether something's hot or cold, though not enough that it would feel like something’s burning you. Like if you stick your hand in a fire you’ll be able to feel and tell it’s warm but it’s not going to burn where you have to yank your hand out quickly.” You look at the clipboard in front of you that’s full of all the notes on the arm as you speak but look up at him at your last words. “Though don’t make a habit of that we aren’t positive how prolonged heat will affect all the little things inside your arm.”

“Like I told you before it’s removable, I’ll show you how to do that in a minute but it’s time for my favorite detail.” You hand the clipboard over to Steve figuring he could at least be helpful if he’s gonna stand guard dog. “Please stretch your arm out towards me, palm up.” Bucky follows your instructions and you speak as you wrap a hand around his wrist and start tracing different shapes on his palm. “With the sensors in and under the metal and how we have it connected to nerve endings you’ll be able to feel things as they touch your arm. While you won’t be able to feel textures of anything and you’d still feel, say, a bullet hit it, you’ll now be able to feel it if I do this.” You draw a circle on his arm with your finger before tapping the middle of it just like you did the other night.

Bucky’s eyes snap to yours rather than watch your fingers in awe. With your similar words and action from the night you fell asleep on his hated arm it’s clear to him that you were the brain behind that decision. He wills away the tears that want to brim and fall from his eyes at someone thinking and caring enough about him to do something like adding that to a new arm, something he hasn’t had happen to him in close to a century where he’s known mostly pain and torture. Maybe that’s the reason he lunges at you to bring you into a hug without thinking of how that might come off as.

You could see the hug coming a mile away, it was written all over his face that that’s what he wanted to do. You didn’t have to be an expert on who he was to be able to see it, though you’d think it would be with how quickly Steve leaves the clipboard to clatter to the ground and make it so the two of you are separated. His sudden rushed movement pushes you back into one of the utility tables causing the tools on it to rattle around but it also awakens Bucky’s Winter Soldier fight or flight response. It’s both of those things that cause him to head butt his friend.

“Steve what the hell!” You yell out as Bucky’s head connects with his nose. The commotion should have drawn eyes to the three of you but Bruce and Helen had stepped out of the lab briefly before all of this.

“He was lunginging at you.” As Steve’s hand goes up to cup his nose in shock that his best friend attacked him for no reason Bucky dives past him to stand in front of you as if to protect you from any danger.

“He was just gonna hug me! Weren’t you honey?” The pet name goes over Steve’s head in the heat of the moment. Bucky gives a stiff nod, the Winter Soldier in him still braced for a fight with the man in front of him if he tries to harm you again. He doesn’t start to relax until you take his new metal hand in yours and rub circles into it. The new sensation of it bringing him back. “Anyone with a brain could’ve seen that written on his face. You all have to stop walking on eggshells all the time when it comes to him or he’ll never actually make any progress.” Steve opens his mouth to respond but you’ve stopped paying attention to him and have instead grabbed Bucky’s shirt from the table you were pushed into and started pulling him out of the lab. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to remove your arm and then you can start getting used to it.”

“How excited are you that when we get back you don’t have to watch Bucky’s door?” You ask Nat as the two of you take seats in the quinjet to finally get home after the week long recon mission the two of you and a couple other agents were sent on. You had gotten word of it right after leaving Bucky’s room from showing him how to remove and reattach his arm and left the next morning. So you’re eager to get back and see how he’s acclimating to the new arm and his new freedom to roam about the tower.

“You have no idea.” She groans before answering. “I finally get my free time back. I’ve had to postpone the same date three times now.”

“Date? You mean you don’t have something going on with Steve?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugs and tries to look nonchalant but you see right through her.

“Yeah sure you don’t.”

“What about you miss lots of questions about Bucky Barnes and crawling through the vents to get into his room?”

“What? I never did that, you know Clint's always messing around in the vents.”

“Yeah and I can tell when it’s him or when it’s you. It sounds different.”

“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.” You hold your pinky out in a silent promise and she hesitates before looping her own with it.

“Deal.”

Unsurprisingly when you both leave the quinjet Nat goes straight to talk to Steve who’s standing waiting in the hangar. You leave them to it, sending him a wave as you walk past wanting to beeline for your room for a shower and quality time with your cat who you always miss the most when you’re stuck on long missions like that. You end up making a pit stop in the shared kitchen to fill your water bottle up with water from the fridge there since you’re almost positive Tony purposely made it so it had the coldest water in the tower so everyone would be forced to cohabitate. You pause momentarily in the doorway when you spot Bucky sitting at the island.

“Hey Honey!” You beam, happy to see him. He turns his head to look at you shocked to see you standing in front of him. A small smile forms on his face, unable to stop from feeling as close to giddy as he has in a long time at how genuinely happy you look.

“Hi.” He pauses as you cross the kitchen to fill your bottle. “How was your mission?”

“So boring.” You roll your eyes as you wait for your bottle to fill. “We spent most of our time in a room watching cameras and listening to mics. I bet you were glad to have me out of your space for a week though.”

He wasn’t, he had missed your presence and how you never made him feel like he had to try to be anyone other than who he was now. Between Steve calling him Bucky and wanting him to be the same guy he knew in the forties and Tony still calling him the Winter Soldier always waiting for the brainwashing to kick back in he thought he was going to go crazy. All he wanted to do was lock himself in his room and not come out until you were back and calling him Honey and not wanting or expecting him to be anyone other than the guy he was now, a guy trying to figure out who exactly he is after being stuck under Hydra’s control for the last however long and trying to cope with that.

“I was gonna shower and just collapse on my bed for a while.” You continue not waiting for a response from him which Bucky appreciates. “Wanna come with? You can meet my cat and I could collapse on the couch instead. We could watch a movie.” You start to walk away as you speak and Bucky’s quick to follow. Of course he was, the Winter Soldier in him who saw you as his mission was going mad at not being with you on your mission because what if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to prevent it, to protect you.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” You say as you open the door to your room ushering Bucky in quickly so your cat doesn’t try to escape again. He takes in the surroundings; it's warm and soft and he immediately thinks how much it suits you. You head farther in and while Bucky still stands near the entrance you approach him a white cat in your arms. “Honey, this is Alpine. I think the two of you could be the best of buds.” You hand her over to him and he’s not sure how exactly to act with a cat in his arms but just lets it happen. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower, I’ll be right back out. Make yourself at home.”

While you shower Bucky hesitates before moving to sit on your couch which is different, softer and more comfortable, than his own. There’s blankets folded and draped over the arms and the back of it with a heart pillow in one corner and a star pillow in the other. He sits in the corner with the heart because it’s further into the room and Alpine meows looking at him with her big blue eyes. She starts purring almost immediately as he scratches behind her ears and under her chin. You’re positively beaming when you come out of your room and find them like that.

“I just knew you’d be a cat person.” Instead of sitting in the other corner of the couch like he expected you to, you sit right next to Bucky folding your legs under you and leaning your shoulder into his own.

“I like animals.” That’s something about him that never changed even under Hydra's brainwashing. He would be on missions as The Winter Soldier sleeping in alleys, because if they didn’t have to they wouldn’t supply him a safe house to stay in, and feeding the strays letting them curl up next to him to sleep in a safe space for the night.

“Hmm, I think I know just the movie to put on then.” You fall asleep probably halfway through Hotel for Dogs. You hadn’t realized how tired you were from the mission until you were fighting to keep your eyes open. And when Bucky had realized you had fallen asleep he sinks more comfortably into the couch and relaxes, metal arm on the back of the couch as around you as he’ll let it be for now and a hand stroking the loving cat still in his lap. And when he falls asleep after the movie ends it’s the first time he doesn’t wake from a nightmare.

Bucky Taglist: @the-chocoholic-writer @vanillamaa @sailormajinmoon @enlyume @collywobbl @valhalla-kristin @nojamsonmytoast @esoltis280 @aactuaaltraash @cali-888 @moonNooon @Minami97 @winchestert101

Marvel Taglist: @lieswithoutfairytales @sugarbutterbailey @1-800-ch3rry @neenieweenie @fluffy-bnny @bunnyweasley23 @chaoticevilbakugo @trikigirl271 @chxosunbound @mazerunnerrose @goldylions @literally-a-ferret @angelgirl45367 @supraveng

Everything Taglist: @matchabbarnes @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr @kennedy-brooke @m00nkn1ghts @rory-cakes

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