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amandaoftherosemire · 6 years

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Lightning Strikes Part Four

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Fem!Reader

Characters: Thor Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,797

Format: Series (Complete)

Warning: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ only please, language, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex.

Summary: You invite Thor into your quarters alone.

A/N: The first couple parts of this was written a while ago for @buckysforeverprincess 500 Follower Writing Prompt Challenge. Not consistent with Marvel canon. I have willfully and deliberately ignored the events of Infinity War. The Statesman made it to Earth after a largely uneventful journey and everyone is FINE. The only thing I’ve taken from Infinity War is Stormbreaker because it’s cool as shit.

I have a confession to make. I hate writing smut. I only make myself because I’m trying to get better at it. Every word of this was like pulling hen’s teeth. I probably rewrote it eight times and I’m still not crazy about it. I’m sorry.

Part Three: Pas de Deux here

Idolatry

As you had now lost count of what mistake you were on today, you were less surprised this time when you heard yourself say, "No."

That feral look intensified and he gave you a smile so rich with heat and hunger your knees trembled. "I'm going to kiss you again," he said as he eased forward, stalking toward you like a great big predator.

Your heart was galloping with the pure thrill of it and you gave a breathless little chuckle. You were already so far in over your head you didn't know if you could make it to the surface. You mentally shrugged. If you were going to keep making mistakes, they might as well be ones you enjoyed. "Okay," you replied agreeably.

Thor tossed his head back and laughed as he closed the space between you. The laugh was still rumbling out of him as he swept you against his chest and closed his mouth over yours. The humor added something to the kiss that had your heart fluttering again. You determinedly put it out of your mind as you pressed closer and kissed him back.

You weren't going to tell him to stop. The pragmatic part of your brain that cared only about what created the most good and did the least harm had decided that having sex with Thor would harm no one and be just super fun for the both of you. You twined your arms around his neck and rubbed against him like an overly affectionate cat. Thor tore his mouth from yours to bury his face in the crook of your neck. "Are you going to let me have you, my sweet?" His voice was low and rough, and it shivered over your skin, setting it aflame.

You opened your mouth to answer when Thor's teeth closed over the cords of your throat. The sensation shot straight to your center and your voice came out as a moan. "Oh, I shouldn't."

"Why not?" Thor was nudging your suit jacket open with his nose, laving your collarbones with his tongue and scouring your skin with his beard. The sensation had thrills of hunger running all through you. You tilted your head back to give him better access.

Your hands were busy sliding underneath the hem of his shirt to find his flesh. Your palms tingled slightly as you ran them over the firm muscles of his back. “Because we just met.” His skin was unbelievably soft, but you could feel the ridges and divots of the scars that come from a lifetime of battle. Instinctively, your hands gentled as you tenderly traced each with your fingertips, like you wanted to ease the pain they had caused. You weren't thinking, too busy arching against Thor's mouth, but that tender touch had him quivering.

Thor rolled his eyes at your words even as his heart stumbled. The feel of your hands on his skin had him desperate for more of yours, needing to see and touch more of you. His hands slid under the lapels of your jacket to nudge it over your shoulders and down your arms. “I will never understand your people’s attitude towards pleasure,” he worshiped the skin he had bared with his hands and a burning stare as he took in the sight of your shoulders and the curves of your breasts rising over the top of your corset, “as though it was something shameful. Yet you're obsessed with it.”

“Fuckin’ Puritans, right?” you replied as Thor wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up to walk forward into the living area. You wrapped your arms around his neck and combed your hands through his surprisingly sexy short hair. When he reached your couch, he tumbled the two of you onto it so that you ended up half in his lap, pressed against the arm with his face buried in your cleavage and his hand sliding up the outside of your thigh.

"If we both want it and are free to do so," you moaned a little at the feel of Thor's blazing breath against your skin as he spoke, and you felt his smile against the curves of your breasts, "why shouldn’t we enjoy each other?"

Determined to regain a little control, you used your hands in his hair to pull his head back. With a smirk you took his lower lip in between your teeth before sucking gently on it. "Preaching to the converted," you rasped against his mouth before pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back with a grumbling hum of passion, one arm around your back to hold you close.

You broke the kiss when Thor's other hand moved from where it was gripping the outside of your thigh to slip between your knees. You buried your face in his neck as he murmured, "I would love to enjoy you, Y/N." Thor's voice was dark and hoarse with desire and you wanted to lap him up like cream.

"Take me to church." Your hands were gripping at his shoulders and testing the muscles there as you fastened your mouth onto his neck and nipped and sucked at the smooth column of his throat. You found the salt of his skin nearly as addictive as the taste of his mouth.

Thor's hand paused as it slid under your skirt and up the inside of your thigh. "What?" he asked, confused.

You shifted, kicking off your heels and parting your legs a little, tilting your head back to give him a cheeky grin. "Well, you're a fertility god, right?"

Thor's face spread in an absolutely wicked smile and his hand resumed its journey upward. "I've heard that," he chuckled. As his hand reached the apex of your thighs and the tips of his fingers brushed against the wet lace of your underwear, the muscles in your neck went lax at the feeling and your head fell backward.

Thor's eyes raked you up and down. He wondered if you had any idea how absolutely delicious you looked, stretched across his lap in abandon like this. Your head had fallen back like a flower too heavy for its stem, exposing the lovely line of your throat. Your back was arched over his arm, your breasts spilling out of the top of the corset. The knots of lust in his gut drew tighter watching you writhe against him in response to his hand sliding further under your skirt as he sought the mysteries hidden there. "May I take you to bed, sweet?" he asked almost desperately, "I need room for what I’d like to do with you."

At that moment, one long callused finger slid underneath the edge of your underwear and gently through your folds. You shuddered and gasped. Breathless, you laughed. "Private Me, reporting for sploosh."

Thor paused again. "I… do not know what that means."

You yet again lifted your head to grin at him. "It means: yes, you may." You gestured vaguely behind you. "It's that-a way."

Without hesitation, Thor removed his hand from between your legs and slid his arm under your knees. As he stood to carry you to your bedroom, you twined your arms around his neck. His arms were firm, but he held you like you were something delicate, not only fragile, but feather light. He took advantage of the proximity of your lips to once more close his mouth over yours. As he walked through your bedroom door he pulled back and gave you a sweet smile that had your heart fluttering wildly. "You’ll have to let me know if I do anything you dislike so I can stop immediately," he murmured.

Your own smile was sly and sultry as you tightened your arms around him. "I'm not gonna be asking you to stop."

Thor's grin widened as he bent to place you in the center of your bed. "You’ll also have to let me know if I do anything you particularly like," as he spoke he placed a knee on the bed, crawling toward you, "so I can do it again." You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched him come towards you on all fours, "and again." He pressed his body to yours and slid against you until you tilted your head back and arched into him with a moan. "Until you scream."

As you trembled and quaked at the feel of his big, gorgeous body enfolding you, he crushed you into the mattress. You could feel the ripple of muscle against you from breast to pubic bone, his hips rucking up your skirt and pressing your thighs open.

You were done. You had no willpower left, no defense against him. Thor overwhelmed you with his body, his scent, his taste and you gave in entirely. For his part, Thor had little to no control left and was tugging at your clothing with unrestrained greed, his mouth on yours as his hands raced over you. Impatient to feel your skin against his, he knelt between your thighs to tug at the fastenings at the front of your corset. As he drew away you were dragging his shirt over his head, as desperate for his flesh as he for yours.

Thor was fumbling, though to his relief you hadn't seemed to have noticed. You were twining one lovely leg around his waist and making tempting sounds in your throat as your hands ran over him like your skin craved the touch of his. In all his centuries, he’d never had a woman devour him with her eyes and touch the way you did. Your gaze seemed to burn as you watched your hands glide over his stomach, testing the fascinating play of muscle under his luscious skin.

Thor stared down at his quaking hands with a kind of amused wonder. It had been a very long time since he had last trembled for a woman and he wasn’t even inside you yet. He had unhooked half of the fastenings when he met your gaze.

You were propped up on your elbows and watching him with glittering eyes. The naked hunger on your face had a tremor working through him as he yanked at the last hook. Thor was shocked to find himself as eager and impatient as a randy green youth, though he was delighted to find you as starved as he. That said, he was a little disturbed at how quickly you had him near the edge of his control.

Finally, his trembling fingers had the all the pegs out of their hooks. He smoothed his big warm hands under the edges and over the soft skin of your breasts as he slid the corset off. The feel of his callused palms rasping across your nipples had you moaning and arching into his touch. Unable to resist, Thor leaned down and took your mouth again, sliding his tongue between your lips with a growl.

One hand left your breast and continued down to the zipper holding your skirt closed at your hip. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled away to take in the sight of you while he slowly pulled the zipper down. His other hand plumped and kneaded your breasts as he watched the pleasure of it move over your face. The look on his face, his eye blazing with intensity and his mouth set in serious lines of concentration, made you feel shy and vulnerable as he pulled all the way back to draw your skirt down your legs and toss it to the floor.

With both your corset and skirt gone, you lay in the middle of your bed wearing nothing but purple lace boy shorts and nude thigh-high stockings while Thor greedily drank in the sight of you. As he was only missing his shirt, you couldn't help but feel exposed. You averted your gaze and crossed your arm over your breasts, unable to stop the instinctive need to shield yourself against his smoldering gaze.

"Don't," he said softly, and your eyes shot back to his. He was watching your face carefully, his gaze boring into yours. His hand closed around your wrist and gently pulled it away from your body. As he was using the lightest of pressure, and his face was taut with need, you didn't resist. It was impossible to feel self-conscious when he looked at you like that, like you were something magnificent.

He released your wrist to slide his palm up the outside of your arm, sending more frissons of ecstasy over your skin. He took a shuddering breath, and the sheer lust in the sound blew through you like light, setting everything aflame. "Look at you," his voice was husky, and so warm with appreciation, affection, “You’re exquisite." Heat raced over your skin in response to the desire in his face, his voice, his touch even as warmth seemed to settle under your skin, making you feel soft and pliant.

Thor watched as something sweet and a little vulnerable moved over your face and felt an answering tenderness well up in him. He leaned forward to slide between your thighs again, rubbing his chest against yours as he went. He moved slowly, to draw out the gratification he felt at the sensation of your skin against his.

If he hadn’t been heading for your mouth, he’d have stretched it out even longer, but he already missed your taste even in the short time he'd been without. With a groan that rumbled like thunder in his chest and settled into your bones, he pressed his mouth to yours.

You'd decided to enjoy yourself to the hilt and so had let your mind go blank and blurry. You were climbing Thor like a tree, your legs tightly laced around his waist, your hands in his hair as you kissed him back, not only eager, but urgent.

Thor, on the other hand, seemed to have lost a great deal of urgency once he had you mostly naked. Instead, he was languidly exploring your body with his hands while he kissed you with the connoisseur’s attention to detail. It was both glorious and maddening.

What could have been minutes or days later, so lost were you in what he was doing, he lifted his head and smiled into your dazed and dreamy eyes. “I was right,” he murmured, and you didn’t even try to hold back the whimper at the raw lust in his voice. His grin flashed. “You really are the sweetest thing.”

“Thor, if you want me to beg all you have to do is say so.” You were pretty sure you’d never sounded that throaty before in your life. You wanted to be ashamed of the sound, not to mention the words, but the way Thor’s face tightened in response had you hoping you could goad him into hurrying the fuck up already.

Thor dipped his head to kiss and nip at your throat as his hands coaxed your stockings down your legs. “I can’t help it. You deserve to be savored.” His hands did not seem to be listening to his words, sliding, as they were, down your thighs with a whisper light touch only to skim quickly back up to close tightly around your hips. You seemed to finally be able to infect him with some of your urgency.

“If you get on with it,” you punctuated your words by loosening your legs so that you could slip your hands between the two of you and into Thor's waistband. You yanked impatiently at the buttons on his jeans until your palms were sliding along his erection with barely restrained greed. Thor dropped his head to your shoulder and practically purred. “I’ll pinky swear to give you another opportunity.”

Until you got your hands on him, Thor had been unhurried bordering on lethargic, to your aggravation. Perhaps if your life span could be measured in millennia you, too, would make love like you had nothing but time. As this was not the case, you grew impatient to the point of frustration. With a muffled oath against Thor’s laughing mouth, you wriggled out of the few clothes you still barely wore while also trying to help Thor out of his.

“I’ve been imagining this since the night we met.” Thor stood to finish undressing as he spoke, and you got your first look at him without any barriers. You hadn’t known a man could be literally mouthwatering.

“You barely saw me.” Your voice was breathless as your heart raced at the look on his face as he crawled back across the bed toward you. Thor’s eye was roaming over you as he gently spread your legs until your pussy was bared to his gaze.

“I barely needed to.” You were feeling a little self-conscious again as Thor was running his hands over your skin as he pressed your thighs apart with his broad shoulders. “I was already half-mad for you when you were a talking plant.”

Your laugh cut off with a gasp as Thor's mouth made contact with your inner thigh. You immediately changed your mind about his languorous pace in response to his slow exploration with lips, tongue, and teeth as he worked his way up to the apex of your thighs. Thor was not only an expert at this particular sport, it was abundantly clear he thoroughly enjoyed it.

He took his time working you up to your first climax. He started off soft and gentle, giving you plenty of time to warm under his hands and mouth. letting you thoroughly enjoy the transition from eager but a little reticent to sobbing wreck, hands fisted in the sheets, shamelessly begging.

Thor had thrown one arm over your hips to keep you in place, your writhing frustrating his efforts to build you slowly and smoothly up to the peak of your climax. His beard rasped against the skin of your inner thighs; you were fairly certain the feeling could drive you mad. The other hand he used to set fires under your skin as it roved over every part of you he could reach. With his size, he could reach all over. As he worked you gently but inexorably toward your climax, his hand moved to your cunt to hold you open so that he could devastate you with his mouth.

Your orgasm, when it came, was like an earthquake. It had a very definite center between your thighs, from where it radiated out to the tips of your fingers and toes, up your spine and over your scalp. You also quaked like the foundations of the earth were trembling beneath you. Slow and gentle it may have started, by the time he had worked you through it and into another, it was anything but. As soon as you started to cringe away from him, he backed off while still tenderly working you through it.

When the wracking shudders of pleasure had eased, you heard your voice state matter-of-factly, like it was a normal thing to say, "And I'd heard Loki was the one with the silver tongue." You felt that unique hot/cold shiver of pure humiliated chagrin run over your skin and prickle your scalp. Your ears were ringing, which is why you didn't hear Thor snickering right away, though you did feel the waft of his breath over your core. You also felt his teeth on your inner thigh where he nipped at you in rebuke. The light sting faded quickly but made you yelp all the same.

Thor was laughing again as he pulled away to kneel between your legs, sliding his forearms under your thighs and taking your hips in his hands. Due to the size of those hands, he had hold of a fair portion of your ass, as well. As he arranged you to some internal criteria you could only guess at, he grinned down at the wreck he'd made of you. "I simply must have you now," he said with a wink. "I hope you don't mind the rush." As you felt his cock sliding against the apex of your thighs, he slid his arm up under your back to arch you against him so that he could bury his face in your breasts.

Though the feel of his beard now abrading your nipples had you whimpering, you dug for the last of the strength Thor had annihilated with his talented hands and downright miraculous mouth. Just as he slid his cock through your folds to collect your wetness you hitched your legs around his waist and squeezed. His eyes flashed to yours, something dark and dangerous moving across his face before he relaxed again. "Impatient, sweet?"

You'd managed to wiggle around enough in Thor's grip to feel his cock pressing against your entrance. With a wicked smile, you rasped one word: "Frantic." As you spoke, you bucked your hips, driving the first inch inside you.

Thor threw his head back in bliss and groaned your name at the feel of your body welcoming him into your wet heat. "You darling!" he rumbled, slowly sinking into you. You were focused on relaxing and letting yourself stretch around him.

Thor looked transported, his thrust into you both achingly slow and exquisitely balanced on the knife edge between pleasure and pain, like a nerve scraped too raw to differentiate the two any longer. You would've been flattered if you weren't on the verge of losing your mind due to the dilemma between begging him to stop and demanding he go faster.

"You have the tightest, sweetest cunt, Plant." You were clenching around him like your body was trying to draw him deeper. Then he used that ridiculous nickname and you were both amused and weirdly charmed. You tightened around him as you laughed, causing Thor to groan and finally push all the way in to the hilt.

Your voice was a touch wry, but colored with such pure affection, he'd have had to have been oblivious to the point of idiocy to not hear it. "Who knew Random Voice was such a sweet-talker?" Thor dropped his head till his forehead was resting against yours and chuckled. His laugh was so rich with self-deprecating humor you were even more charmed.

"You have bewitched me, Y/N," he almost whispered. His face twisted in a crooked smile. "I cannot think straight when I’m with you." He punctuated his words with a digging motion of his hips, like he wanted to get further inside you, as though that was possible.

His mouth was only a breath away, so of course you had to take advantage. You closed the gap and took his plump lower lip between your teeth. Slowly, you pulled back so that your teeth scraped against his lip. He hummed in response. Your voice impossibly even throatier than before, you murmured against his mouth. "Thor." You brushed your lips against his. "If you don't hurry up and fuck me," you used what leverage you had to rock your hips against his, "I think I might have a mental breakdown."

Thor didn't reply, just flashed you a wicked grin and pulled ever so slowly out of you, like he had not only the time, but the patience to make every touch last forever. You'd see him dead first. Your self-control now nothing but tatters in the wind, you bucked your hips petulantly and let out a groan of pure frustration. "I swear to god…" you trailed off menacingly.

Thor burst out laughing and began to move more quickly. He leaned forward to kiss you and you could swear you could taste the laugh, like the cool breeze that carries the smell of hail through a thundercloud. He broke the kiss but nipped at your lip before murmuring against your mouth. “You’re so small to be so fierce." You were back to climbing him, using your legs to push back at him in an attempt to get him to move faster. He obliged, but only a little, driving you nearly to the brink of either shameless begging or murderous rage; you hadn't decided yet. You were so close to getting the friction you needed. "Is this what you want, my sweet?” The sexy rasp of his voice and the feel of his breath on your skin as he stroked almost fast enough had you clenching tightly around him.

As he moaned in response to the feel of you rippling against him, you replied, your voice hoarse. “You’re getting warmer.”

“You have no idea." The words left his mouth against the skin of your throat, which became prey to the edge of his teeth immediately after they did so.

The feel of his lips against your neck as his mouth and hips became more frantic was messing with your ability to think. It was just outstanding. “No, I meant-" For whatever reason, the absurdity of it struck you as life-threateningly funny so your next words came out in a half-laugh, half moan. "Doesn’t matter."

Thor couldn't hold back any longer. He had been so enjoying the sensation of thrusting into you that he had been going slowly to make it last. He found your impatience both flattering and amusing, not to mention arousing. But then both passion and humor burst over your face like light and the uncomplicated desire there captivated him. He increased the pace of his thrusts until you were clutching at his shoulders and making those sweet little whimpers of need he had discovered while pleasuring you with his mouth.

"Yes, that," you hissed frantically. "Keep doing exactly that." Thor was finally moving the way you wanted him to. Well, that would be inaccurate. Thor was moving far better than you had been wanting because you hadn't ever been with a man with this perfect a rhythm. There was something to be said for plenty of time to practice. Not to mention, he finished each stroke in with a delicious dig that seemed to be hitting the exact spot you needed.

Thor chuckled in your ear. "Anything you wish, Y/N." With that, he used one hand to smooth your hair back, so he could watch your face and continued to rock quickly and carefully into you. He did exactly what he had promised. You had informed him of something you liked, and he did it again. And again. And again. Before long, you were clinging and whimpering, and Thor was pounding into you with enough force and speed to have you climbing to peak once more.

Your mind hazed and your breath sobbing, you clung to him as every thrust of his hips against yours had the coil inside you tightening further. Every brush of velvet skin over supple muscle against your body had you quivering all over. Thor was muttering your name amongst various other endearments in a low growl against your throat and the sound of his voice rough with passion was gloriously rasping against your nerve endings.

For his part, Thor was only holding back until you found your climax again. The lovely sounds of ecstasy that were leaving your mouth were driving him mad. The quick shivers of arousal that worked through you seemed to pour into him, urging him on. He had a vise grip on your thighs as he drove further and faster, desperate to feel you come around him before he found his own climax.

"Once more," he rasped, his voice hoarse with raw lust. "Will you come for me once more, my sweet?"

As though your body itself couldn’t bear to disappoint him, that was all you needed to have you tumbling over the edge with quivering muscles and a scream that shuddered into a gasping moan. You could feel Thor’s lips brush your throat as they moved into a smile.

The ripples of your core over his cock pulled Thor willingly over the edge with you. He came with a laughing groan, the sound a rumbling purr of pleasure that was literally the sexiest sound you’d ever heard. To your utter astonishment, that alone had you trembling with aftershocks.

A little while later you were combing your fingers through Thor’s hair and waiting for your bones to stop humming when your stomach grumbled. Thor lifted his head from where it was resting between your breasts and grinned.

“I think your belly has the right of it, sweet. We need food.”

Which is how you found yourself sitting half-naked in the middle of your bed decimating your junk food stash and talking about any and everything with Thor, King of Asgard and God of Thunder.

The second time he made love to you, he took his time.

Part Five: Antithesis here

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#Thor Odinson #thor #thor x reader #thor x fem!reader #thor odison x reader #thor odinson x fem!reader #thor smut #mcu #marvel au #thor fanfiction #thor fantic #fanfiction #fanfic #pantswries #lightning strikes #series

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sebbytrash · 7 years

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Five Sweaters to Make You Want Me

Marvel Writing Challenge: @sebbytrash vs.@abovethesmokestacks

Prompt: Sweaters

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3,208

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mention of scars, canon-typical violence, blood (a tiny bit), Bucky is swoon worthy

A/N: God, this is so so late but life got a little hectic and then I wrote and rewrote it so many times to get it just right. Feedback loved and appreciated.

Bucky Barnes owns five sweaters.

Five, generic, patternless, boring and wonderful sweaters. He wears them like armour, tugging on the sleeves over his hands, hiding every inch of skin he can. Every time he tugs it's like the sleeve is linked directly to your heart, small, invisible strings tugging on it like a gentle reminder - help him - it says with every tug.

He wore the red one the first day he took you up your offer to watch TV together. You’d been gently chipping away at him, trying to bring him further into the group, pulling at the edges of his walls until it finally crumbled just enough for you to peek into.

“Hey Buck, I’m gonna go binge watch some Netflix, wanna hang?” You keep your tone casual, not really expecting much of a response, more than the politeness, you really do want him to join you when he’s ready. When he’s ready for friends again.

“Uh, um…O-Okay.”

“Yeah?” He nods, eyes a little too wide like maybe he’s surprised himself too, “Awesome.” You grin at him, cheek achingly wide and full of so much happy you watch it bleed onto his face until he matches yours. What a pair you must be, standing around in the hallway grinning like mad men.

Once you're both settled on the couches, you wrapped in a blanket on one side, him on the other, a whole mountain of snacks piled high between you, you flip lazily through the options, wondering what type of programme he might enjoy. It strikes you then you know nothing about him, despite him living along side you in the compound for the best part of 6 months now. Did he even know himself? A pang of something hit you then, not quite sadness but definitely not a happy feeling. You blink a few times, slow and long, to clear the thoughts and feelings.

“Fancy this?” You gesture with the remote at the screen, knocking your bag of chips from your lap and onto the mountain, you watch it slip and tilt just a little until it slides down and lands in Bucky’s lap. He picks them up and hands them back to you, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Sure.”

You watch in relative silence, sliding your eyes over every so often to study his face, the set of his mouth, analysing if his shoulders are set stiff or if they are just that big you can’t tell the difference. Yeah, your eyes slide to his shoulders more often than not but it’s okay because he hasn’t turned his face from the TV even once.

“Are you okay?” His voice startles you a little, both of you being so quiet for so long it feels like he yelled instead of soft thrum he used.

“Huh? Yeah, course. Why?”

“You just uh, keep looking at me.”

Busted.

You search for the right words to explain, minus the shoulders of course, “Oh. Yeah uh, m'sorry bout that. I just- I’m glad you’re here is all.”

He smiles, “Me too. This is…easy. Not easy, but- you know what I mean?”

“Yeah Buck, I know exactly what ya mean.”

The blue one, the one that really brings out his eyes, yeah, he was wearing that one the first time you thought he might actually be getting better.

It was during another marathon TV binge, a weekly ritual with you and Bucky now; especially after a mission. You were lying on the couch, feet draped over his lap, stuffing popcorn into your mouth haphazardly. It was a quiet routine, a comfort, that had subtly fallen into place with you both. You didn't ask anything of him, hell you didn't even need the small talk just the company, and that was something you both needed. Company without the pressure of social normalities.

“Well, that’s us up to date on Game of Thrones.”

You tip your head back and place a piece of popcorn on your lips, blowing gently in an attempt to make it hover and failing miserably. Bucky leans over and swipes it mid air, raising an eyebrow at you as he pops the piece into this mouth. You smother your brain when it whispers- wasn’t that just on your lips too- and fake pout at him before a laugh punches free at his grin.

“Show me something iconic, something everyone know’s and love’s. Explain this century.” He implores

“Hmm, iconic huh? That explains this century? I think I got an idea.” You flip through the list until you find the one you're looking for, “Ok, this is a personal favorite of mines, but I think you’ll like it.”

Your three episodes in when Scott wanders past on his way to the kitchen. He hovers, eyes glued to the screen, fingers curled over the back of the spare couch.

“You like this, Scott?” You ask when he’s finished laughing at the screen.

“Who doesn't love Friends?” He gives you an incredulous look before vaulting over the couch and getting comfy.

Bucky glances over at him and for a minute you wonder if this is too much, if he’s going to leave now, but he simply nods at Scott and turns back to the screen. A surge of relief chased by pride washes over you and you can’t help but stare. He seems happier, you think, less grey. There’s color bleeding back into his soul.

Eventually they all trickle in, pulled from their rooms by the sound of laughter and the smell of popcorn. Everyone gives you and Bucky the couch, choosing to lounge on the various bean bags or even the floor just to respect enough of his boundaries. You watch him still, checking his eyes for any signs it’s become too much, sweeping over his shoulders to test for stiffness. He notices, a small smile pushing its way into his face as he slips his hand round your ankle, giving it a small pat.

Later, much later, you struggle to keep your eyes open and finally decide to head to bed, glancing over at Bucky who is laughing at Scott’s argument for why he is most like Joey.

“Come on, I’m clearly the ladies man of the group. I would have said Tony but he’s on lockdown.”

“Oh you wish, Tic-Tac. If anybody is Joey, it’s me. Hell, even Cassie prefers me.” Sam counters, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt what I’m sure was a very intellectually stimulating discussion, but I’m hitting the hay. What about you, Buck?” You ask, if only to give him an out if he needed it.

“Uh, I’m good, Y/N.” You smile and pat his shoulder on the way past, he mouths a thank-you and your heart sings in your chest. You leave him there, chatting with Scott and Sam, lighting up the whole room with that beautiful laugh of his.

He’s wearing the green, almost khaki, one when you sit on the roof together to watch the 4th July fireworks display. It’s a warm night, warm enough that you're sitting in your tank top and you know it's too warm for the sweater, but still he tugs at those sleeves.

The air is clear out here, the sky is open and full of stars. You’d never seen this many stars before moving here, the lights of the City always drowning them out. The sight of them never failed to amaze you

Bucky set up to loungers side by side, yours has a blanket folder over the back incase you get cold, and a cooler full of beer, it almost feels like a date. Almost.

After a few minutes of sitting side by side waiting on the show, you turn and catch him tugging at the collar, beads of sweat beginning to form on his neck.

“Hey, you could just take it off ya know?” You coax, gesturing towards the offending sweater

He casts his eyes down, “Uh, that’s ok. M’fine.”

You slip a hand over to his, smoothing your fingers over the metal and under his sleeve just enough to link your fingers with his, “Whatever it is you're worried about, you're wrong ya know?”

He glances between your linked fingers and your eyes, hesitating before giving your hand a little squeeze. The thrum of your heart is so loud and insistent you actually sort of worry he can feel it through your joined hands, how much did he feel with that metal arm of his?

You give his hand an experimental squeeze, “Can you feel that?”

He nods, “I mean yes and no, my brain tells me to feel it. It’s not the same, it’s less...personal?” He huffs a little, brows furrowing, “I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“I think I get it, like its muted? Like someone touching you through a really thick blanket?”

“Yes. Exactly, yes.” He laughs, and it's such a beautiful sound. If you could bottle that sound you could incite world peace. It takes a few seconds but your brain catches up and immediately throws itself towards your still joined hands.

“Do you hate it?” You ask

“No,” You glance at him, surprised, “I did, for a long time, but now, now I control it.”

“Then why the-” You gesture at his upper body.

“Uh, my uh, my scars. They make people uncomfortable.” He looks at you, lips twisted into a sad smile and a fragment of your heart splinters off.

“Bucky...you could never make me uncomfortable.” Your voice cracks a little so you clear your throat, eyes never leaving his, like that's even possible with the way he's looking at you. His eyes are glittering, what looks like gratitude in them and maybe something else, not the usual pain-torn grey orbs that are ever present.

He leans, or you do, you're not sure who moves first but you gravitating towards each other. You eyes dart to his lips then back to eyes, his follow. There’s that unmistakable pull, winding tighter and tighter until-

“So this is where the party’s at?” Sam fucking Wilson. You fling yourself so far back and away from Bucky you almost fall off your lounger.

“Oh hey, Sam.” You say, bright and loud before muttering a quiet cockblock under your breath.

“What’s up, guys.” He walks round to your side, as Steve, Scott and Nat all come through the door after him, “I heard that.” Low and just for you.

You have the decency to look contrite, fighting the smirk on your face, Sam giving you the “We’ll discuss this later” eyes.

Eventually, everyone’s filtered out onto the roof, someone somewhere sets up some music, soft and in the background. Tony has a BBQ going, one of those big fancy Grills that cooks a army of food all at once.

An impromptu party on the roof is happening, everyone’s here, laughing, having fun and Bucky looks almost at home. The way the fireworks light up his face, casting shadows and throwing light around enough to see the real, genuine smile on his face, well, it has you in knots.

He’s wearing the black sweater when you're sent on a mission together. The way it fits snug against him is so fucking distracting, curving along each muscle, layered with guns and ammo like he even needs them.

There was something about the way he held himself, this Bucky, the Soldier, stood tall and confident, moving with clear intent. He bends and slips a knife into the holster at his thigh, those glorious thighs, and the surety in how his fingers move, his deep level of comfort here is undeniably hot.

You work together well, seamless almost, picking your way through the Hydra agents until they had all scattered leaving you to extract the hostage and make your way home. You're about halfway out of the building, enough that you allow the smallest edge of safe into your brain and it’s a mistake.

A huge mistake.

You hear the gunshot a second too late, but it’s all it takes. A second, you brace for impact, or prepare to brace, and the shots still ringing in your ears but there’s no pain. No anything.

You open your eyes- when did you close them?- and he’s there, looming over you, his face is thunderous. He turns to face the culprit, a wounded figure lying somewhere over there, one shot and he’s down again, down for good.

Bucky turns back to you, a frown marring his face and puts the pads of his fingers against his shoulder. They come away wet and red, and now it makes sense. He took the goddamn bullet for you.

“You took the bullet.” You voice sounds numb.

You should be grateful, you should be any number of things but what you are is inexplicably angry. Furious, even. It’s running through your veins and it's all specifically aimed at Bucky. How dare he endanger himself for you.

“Why?” You ask, softly but so very full of feeling.

“Because it saved your life.” He says, like it’s completely obvious, and maybe it is to a reasonable and rational person but that’s not who you are right now.

You close the distance between you, hostage gently placed on the floor, and inspect his wound. It’s bleeding, but not as much as it would be if it had hit its intended target; you. Flipping out your knife, you rip away the fabric, before glancing up at him, silently asking for permission. He gives you a small nod, his jaw clenches and you move quickly, dipping the knife into the wound with precise and practised movements, freeing the bullet before his enhanced skin starts to knit itself closed. He makes no sound, gives no indication he’s in pain other than a small muscle in his jaw squeezing and contracting.

“I don’t need your protection you know.” You say, despite yourself, it sounds harsh, even to your own ears and he looks at you, face twisted in confusion but wisely saying nothing.

Back at Base, you drop the hostage off at Medical and stay with Bucky long enough to give a report before you’re disappearing up to your room. Despite the extra time spent under the hot spray of the shower, you feel more anxious than ever. You keep replaying that moment over and over, the way Bucky’s fingertips lit up with blood dances across your vision sending pulsing wave of anger up your spine.

Why were you so angry at him? It’s wasn't the first time someone had taken a bullet for you, or you them. And in this team, it sure wouldn't be the last. Your brain grasps at a thought before you push it away. It stays, insistant and just there, following you around the room as you pace enough to set the carpet on fire. Your brain screams, I know this, listen.

Shit.

You know why you're so angry. You’re... in love with him.

You can’t stop, your muscles are being pulled and flexed by that magnetic pull. The walls blur as you race past them, mind fighting to catch up with what your body already knows. You get to his door and it slows, you hesitate now that you're here. You go to knock, hand raised in the air, when the door swings inwards and Bucky’s standing there a little shocked and sporting his grey sweatpants and matching sweater. Your brain takes half a second to just...damn, grey sweater.

“Hi!” You say, sweeping your eyes up over the sturdiness of him and to his face.

“I was just coming to see you.”

“Me too… well, clearly, since I’m here...” Real smooth.

“You wanna come in?” He asks, signalling to the now open door.

“Oh-uh, yeah? Yes.”

You step around him and into his room, glancing around as you do. There's a old picture of him and Steve propped up on his desk, they're smiling, arms around each other's shoulders, Steve's wearing a helmet and Bucky is definitely Pre-Serum. You find yourself in front of it, thumb smoothing over the crinkles edges.

“It's from before. Steve gave it to me.” His voice is a lot closer than you expected, the warmth of his breath hitting the back of your neck. You fight the urge to shiver, letting the silent sweep of goosebumps be the only giveaway to the sudden erratic thumps of your heart.

Pulling a deep breath in through your nose, you steel yourself -you can do this- and turn to face him. Your arm brushes against his stomach as you turn and you feel them twitch in response. Eyes drawn to his, there it is again, the ever present pull you feel to him.

“I'm sorry.” You half whisper, the urge to look away warring with that incessant pull, “For earlier. I'm sorry about how I acted.”

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Not really.” He raises an eyebrow at you, a silent warning that maybe that wasn't exactly a request. You chew mindlessly on your bottom lip, mind running over scenarios and explanations till you almost forget the truth. “It's just, okay so I- uh, I care about you Buck and ya know that guy came out of nowhere and well, I'm not too proud to admit he scared me…”

You’re babbling, you know it and yet you can't stop, words bubbling up out of you a little hysterically but you falter when Bucky gets this look, a look likes he's waiting for something, expectant but like he already knows.

“...and I just, I saw you and the blood and got so...angry.” You deflate, physically and emotionally, weariness seeping into your marrow now as you try to explain without explaining.

“So far, you’ve just told me what happened, Y/N. Not why it happened.” He inches closer still till your chests are touching, the steady thrum of that energy amplifying tenfold, “Why were you so angry with me, doll?” He looks at you, into you, waiting on something. It’s like he’s waiting for you to remember.

“I- cause I care about you. Cause the moment I saw the blood all I could think was not him. Not for me. You’re too important, too needed.”

“Needed by who?” He’s still searching.

“The world, the team, Steve...Me.” You whisper the last part, wanting and not wanting him to hear it.

“You?” He pushes, seeking more.

“Yes, me. I need you.” I love you.

“Fucking finally-” He leans into you, pressing his mouth hard against yours, working his lips over yours till they open to him, he sweeps through tasting and owning, leaving you utterly wrecked. You sway into him, hooking your hands up and over his shoulders, fingering digging into this muscles as you try to stay upright. He kisses you like he’ll never stop, like he can't stop. Your brain slants and realigns, shorted enough that there’s only white noise now, no more screaming

You pull back a little, gasping air into your lungs, “I- uh…”, you try to ask him but you can’t form the words.

He looks at you unflinching, “I need you, too.” Emphasis on the need like he knows that’s not what it means.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your favorite sweater? The grey one when it was discarded behind him moments after your kiss, yes, definitely the grey one.

#five sweaters to make me want you #kale writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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