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pome-seed · 1 month ago

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Summer Surprise ࿐࿔ Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Age-gap 40s DBF Bucky Barnes x Mid-twenties Reader

Summary: You've been looking forward to kicking off the summer with a week on your dads new boat. You decide to have one last night of fun before committing to a week on the sea with your family. But you're thrown into a world of shock when you realize the older man you slept with, only days prior, is not only friends with your dad, but also joining you for the trip.

Word Count: 21.0k

Warnings: Graphic Sexual Content. DBF!Bucky. Oral sex (M&F receiving. Mostly F.) Soft Dom!Bucky. Age-gap (40 y/o Bucky x mid 20s reader). Hand jobs. Hair Pulling. Light Choking. Heavy Teasing. Smug asf Bucky. Neck fixation. Body Worship. Wall Sex. Tension. Just so so so so much smut. P with P (but not toooo much plot) ABSOLUTE filth.

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Author's Note: Hey guys! I really enjoyed making this one. This one is a little crazy and a little wild. But I hope you guys like it!!! Also, requests are always open.

The air is charged with electricity, the rhythmic base pulsing through the floor. Your delighted laugh is muffled by the heavy beat as you roll your hips into your friend.

Wanda presses up behind you, her hands slithering around your waist to tickly Nat’s hips. Nat smacks her hand away with a snicker, her body swaying into yours.

You pant, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to your skin from the heated room. “Fuck,” you groan. “I’m thirsty, Imma get a drink, you want anything?” You shout over the music, pushing out from between the two women.

“All good,” Wanda laughs, turning to grind back into Natasha.

You giggle at the pair and start shoving your way through the packed crowd. You’ve never seen your favorite club as packed as it was tonight. Usually, that would make things a little more fun, but tonight it made things a nuisance.

You push through people packed body to body, shouldering through couples and friends to get to the bar.

About two feet from the bar, a drunk man shoulders past you to collapse into a free barstool. You feel your heel slip as you wobble- your stomach drops to your feet in a moment of panic. But before you can roll your ankle, strong hands slide onto your waist and steady you.

“You okay?” A rough voice shouts from above you.

You roll your head back, looking up at a jaw dropping man. A drunken smile slips onto your lips as you unconsciously lean back into him. “All good now,” You giggle.

The man helps maneuver you so you're facing him, a chuckle falling from his lips. “You sure?” His dark blue eyes trail down your body shamelessly. His hand stays on your hip.

“Mhm,” you nod heavily, your gaze flickering between the salt and pepper in his hair, to the pretty crows feet that form when he smiles down at you.

He couldn’t be more than forty. Your light buzz sinks a little deeper as you ogle the man, watching the way the neon lights flicker against his skin.

“You want a drink, sweetheart?” He leans down into your space, so he doesn’t have to shout as much for you to hear.

You swallow heavily. “You buying?”

“For someone as pretty as you, absolutely.” His tongue swipes over the point of his teeth.

You grin and nod, shamelessly leaning into him. “Lead the way, handsome.”

And he did lead the way. Just not to the bar.

He led you to the alley out back, where the line to get into the club stretched to the street. And without a care- or thought for your dignity- in site, he presses you against the cold, chipped bricks.

His facial hair burns against your face as you suck gently on his tongue, your hands frantically fisting at his hair. He chuckles into the kiss, his large hands pinning you in place by your hips.

He nips at your bottom lip, rolling it until it stung, then soothed over it with his tongue. He pants softly into your mouth, a hand traveling up to grip your jaw tightly. He angles your head, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

“Fuck-” He groans quietly against your lips, his other hand slipping down to grab your ass.

He smells of expensive cologne and lingering smoke. He tastes like fine liquor.

“Gonna take me somewhere-?” You gasp against him. “Or ‘re you gonna fuck me right here?”

He laughs, deep in his chest, against your neck, his lips trailing rough kisses down the expanse. “That eager?” He whispers, dragging his teeth along your throat.

“Fuck yes-” You pant, arching up into him.

He snickers quietly as he pulls back, his hand sliding back around your jaw. “I’ll take you somewhere baby,” he swipes his tongue over your sore bottom lip. “I’ll take care of you.”

And that's how you end up in a strange hotel, your hair in this random mans fist, as he fucks you into the mattress.

You can barely see straight. Your body aches and your thighs are barely holding your weight by now. The man’s strong fingers press bruises into the soft edge of your hip as he drags you back against his cock.

You choke on a broken wine, your jaw loose as he yanks on your hair.

“Fuck-” he grunts, fucking his cock back into your soaking entrance. “Do that again, sweetheart,” his lip twitches back in a snarl as his muscles clench.

Your eyes roll back as your trembling hand pushes between your legs to circle your clit.

“Just like that, baby, doing so good.” He pants, his nails scraping your scalp as he regrips your hair.

“Oh shit-” You moan, rocking back into him.

He smirks to himself, his large hand swinging back to deliver a quick slap to your ass. You whine, your mouth falling open further. He smacks your ass again, pressing his palm to the red mark that follows.

“That feel good, sweetheart? Huh?” He thrust his hips at a steady pace, deep and hard, punching the air from your lungs. “I asked you a question, baby.” He smacks your ass again.

You nod quickly, your scalp burning as he fists your hair. “S-so fuckin’ good…”

“Yeah? Feels so good gettin’ stuffed full of cock?” He chuckles to himself, his own words making him smile. “Bet it does. Bet you’ve never been fucked like this, huh?”

You shake your head, pushing back against him needily. He pulls you back on his dick, grinding into you slowly. He tugs gently on your hair, and then you feel his breath ghosting across your throat. He presses a soft kiss to the hinge of your jaw.

“Ever been fucked by someone older?” He whispers, his lips dragging over your shoulder.

Your vision nearly blanks out when he grinds his hips into you again. You gasp when a sharp sting against your ass shocks you back to reality. “No-...” You groan.

“Mm,” he hums, sinking his teeth into the curve of your shoulder. You nearly sob, your fingers circling your clit a little slower. You don’t want this to be over yet. “‘S it feel good?” He whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Do boys your age make you feel this good?” His stubble burns where he drags his chin against your cheek.

You shake your head. He softens his hold on your hair to massage your scalp.

“Does it make you wanna cry?” He whispers, kissing the corner of your lips. He rolls his hips into you a little slower. You choke on a garbled noise.

Your stomach twists almost painfully, something hot and aching spreading through you.

You nod, blinking through tears to try to ground yourself.

You can feel him smile against your cheek. He nips your jaw. “I bet.” He snickers, snapping his hips against yours as he pulls back. He curls his fist back around your thick locks of hair. “I won’t stop you, baby,” he groans, his chin dipping to his chest as he stares at himself sinking into you.

“You can cry, sweetheart. Go ahead and cry.”

You can’t remember falling asleep.

The last thing you could recall from the night before was the man spreading you out on your back, softly kissing your cheeks. His tongue dragging over your skin as he licked away your tears.

You remember his kisses trailing down your stomach, his hand wrapped around your throat.

You remember him smiling against your inner thigh, before he gently kissed your soaking cunt.

After that, everything was a blur.

So now, as you stretch slowly beneath the silky sheets, you feel sore and raw. Every part of you feels so deliciously tender.

Calloused fingers twitch over your stomach. You shiver, glancing down at the thick arms wrapped snug around your waist. You look over your shoulder to find the man sleeping soundly, his face nuzzled into your hair.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like a fool. But you can’t help it. Your whole body still feels loose and raw from the way he picked you apart the night before.

So you relax into the sheets and trace your nails over his knuckles, forcing yourself to stay quiet. To savor the moment a little longer.

His body feels warm against yours, heavy and relaxed. You feel his soft lips brush your nape. Your stomach flutters as you tug the thin sheet a little higher over your chest.

Your little savory moment is cut short when he releases a heavy breath against the back of your neck, his arms winding tighter.

You make a soft noise as his arms press into your stomach.

His chest rumbles in a sleepy chuckle, his lips dragging over your skin. “Morning,” he whispers, his voice all gravel and velvet.

You swallow hard, your mouth now deeply dry. Your confidence now heavily lacking, now that you’re sober.

“Morning,” you mutter.

His hand slides from your stomach to your hip, massaging gently into the muscle. “Feel okay?”

You suppress a shudder, and nod, your eyes glued to the wall across from the bed. “Mhm.”

Something nervous curls in your stomach.

The man makes a rough noise before he starts to turn onto his back- pulling you with him. You shift with him, pressed into his side- almost on top of him. Before you can do much else, the hand not glued to your waist rakes the hair from your face.

You blink up at him now, blue eyes flickering over your features.

“Hi,” he whispers, his teeth nipping his lip.

“Hi,” you groan, dropping your face to his chest. The hand in your hair slips to cradle your nape as he laughs. You can feel the vibrations through his ribs.

“Where’s all that gusto?” He hums, his nails gently scratching your hip.

“You fucked it out of me,” you huff.

He makes a surprised noise at that, his palm loosening around your neck. Once he gathers himself, his nails start gently scratching at your scalp. “There it is.”

You sigh against him, and faintly you realize he still smells like cologne and smoke. You swallow, your lips pressed to his chest. “I’m Y/n, by the way,” you slowly lift your head, an embarrassed smile curling at your mouth.

“Bucky,” he mutters, still stroking your scalp. “Nice to meet you, doll.”

“What a meeting,” You snicker, pushing up over him a little further. You drag the sheets with you as you slowly straddle the man. He watches you, his hands falling to your thighs, where they peak beneath the white sheet.

He hums to himself, biting back a smirk as he looks at you fully. He looks sweet, bathed in warmth and sleep. You rest your hands against his chest, your touch trailing as you reach to cup his jaw. On a whim, you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. He hums again, his tongue brushing yours.

“You have pretty eyes,” You whisper against his mouth, feeling his facial hair scrape your face. “So blue.”

He smiles into the next kiss, struggling to keep his teeth out of the mix. “Mhm?” He murmurs, his hands stroking up and down your waist. “Didn’t see much of me last night?”

You shake your head. “It’s hard to see when you’re sobbing.” You snicker.

He groans softly, his head falling back against the pillows in exasperation. “You can’t say that when you’re on top of me, doll.”

You rake your fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “Oops,” you smirk, your stomach fluttering at how pretty his eyes look with his crows feet.

His hair is soft beneath your fingers, thick and tangled. Your gaze sweeps over his face, his neck, his chest. Faint freckles mark his warm skin. You wonder faintly if he has any tattoos.

“Whatcha starin' at?” He chews at his lip, a hand dropping to gently palm your ass over the sheets.

“You’re really fuckin’ attractive.”

He chokes on a laugh, a grin spreading across his face. “Jesus, girl.” He shakes his head at you. He slowly sits up against the headboard, dragging you closer in his lap. “You’re blunt when you’re sober,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss your shoulders.

“Can’t help it,” you mutter, arching your neck to give him space.

“‘S that right?” He nips gently at your throat.

“Mhm,” you sigh.

“I’ve got a few new observations too. Wanna hear?” He lifts a brow at you, struggling to suppress his smile. You nod, your hands slide to rest on his shoulders.

He leans in, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “You look good with makeup running down your face.”

You flinch back with an embarrassed gasp, your hands smacking over your face. “You’re kidding-” you groan. “Is it everywhere?”

He snickers heartily, his fingers slowly wrapping around your wrists. You try to keep yourself covered but he easily tugs your hands away. “I’m just teasing, baby,” he chuckles. “You’re fine.”

“Are you?” You lift a suspicious brow at him.

He shrugs slightly. “Only a little.”

You groan and drop your head onto his shoulder. “Oh god-” you huff. In reality, you shouldn’t feel so bad. You know he seems to like it. But the image of yourself you’ve cooked up in your head looks like a mess.

And Bucky is by far the hottest man you’ve ever slept with. So being a mess is less than desirable.

He rubs your back gently, his cheek knocking into the crown of your head. “You’re fine, you’re fine. It’s only a little eyeliner.”

You shake your head in embarrassment, your lips pressed firmly to the thick muscle of his shoulder.

“You’re not gonna look at me now?”

You shake your head.

“Mkay,” he hums. You gasp when his fingers slid into your hair, curling around the strands and yanking. He easily pulls you back to look at him, a gentle sting sizzling against your scalp. He tilts his chin up and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your eye. “So pretty.”

Your stomach twists, butterflies knotting inside you. Jesus. You’ve never had a one night stand like this before.

You stare at him, your face aflame.

“Not gonna hide?”

“No…” you whisper. He easily retracts his hand from your hair.

“Good girl.” He snickers when your eyes bulge.

“Jesus-” you shake your head at him, wiping your eyes with your finger tips. Before another word can leave your mouth, your phone rings somewhere in the room. Your spine immediately straightens. “That’s mine-” You blurt looking over your shoulder past the bed.

You awkwardly climb out of Buck’s lap, dragging the sheets with you in search of your phone. You find it by the door, with your heels and purse.

You have three missed calls from Wanda.

“Shit…” You mutter, calling her back. It rings once before she’s answering.

“Y/n? Finally!” Wanda groans.

“Hey, what’s up? Are you okay?”

“Ah- we’re locked out of the house, can you come by and let us in?” She awkwardly mutters.

“What? Both of you? Where did you sleep last night?” You frown.

“We got a cab to Pietro’s, slept there. But we still can’t find our keys.”

“How did both of you lose your keys?” You groaned.

“Nat put hers in my purse, and then I put mine in my purse, but I think I left my purse in the cab.” You could hear her cringing through the phone. “Nat’s gotta get ready for work, so can you please come home and let us in?”

You stiffen, glancing back at Bucky, who is shameless staring at you from the bed. “I uh- yeah, I’ll be right there. Gimme like-” you glanced at the time. “20-30, okay?”

“Thank you so much- we owe you.”

“Big time,” you hiss, then hang up. You turn back to face Bucky, your fists white knuckled against the sheets. “I have to go.”

“I caught that,” he smiles, lazily rolling out of bed. Your face heats as you watch him find and tug on his boxers. You watch him shamelessly, your gaze traveling down the expanse of muscle beneath his skin.

He steps into your space, and only now did it really sink in how tall he is. Large hands cup your jaw, pulling you up to kiss him. You sigh against his tongue as he takes the lead, easily molding you beneath his hands.

You lean your weight into him, your body sagging against his.

He pulls back with a wet sound, his tongue darting out to lick over your lips.

“Can I see you again?” You blurt, your eyes fluttering open as he sighs against your skin.

He smirks, his nose nudging yours. “You wanna see me again?” He teases, stretching it out.

You nod slowly.

He chuckles, then reaches to snag your phone. “‘F course, sweetheart.” He muttered, already punching his number into your contacts.

You try not to look as light-headed as you feel. You try not to seem as excited as you are. “Thanks,” you mutter when he hands you your phone back. You see he sent himself a text from your number.

Pretty girl from the bar.

Weirdly enough, the fact that he put a period at the end of the text is what turned you on.

You watch as Bucky quietly searches for his pants. You stand there, wrapped in the sheet, wearing nothing but your fragile dignity. He doesn’t pull his pants on when he finds them, and instead fishes out his wallet.

Your brows pinch together in confusion. But then he pulls out two twenties and holds them out for you. “Call a cab so it’ll be here when you’re ready.” When you don't move, he smiles softly at you. He pulls your purse from the floor and sticks the money inside.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up in the bathroom, so you can get changed out here, okay?” He lifts a brow at you as he sets your purse back down.

You nod. “Okay.” You mutter, stunned by his caring actions.

He shakes his head at you with a chuckle as he gathers his clothes and enters the bathroom. The door closes with a soft click. You release a shocked breath.

You would have stood there longer, if you didn’t remember that Natasha and Wanda were shivering and waiting for you. You roll your eyes and start gathering your clothes.

When you’re finally dressed and pulling on your heels, Bucky emerges from the bathroom. He’s holding a damp cloth, folding it up as he approaches you.

When you look up at him, he gently pinches your chin and starts wiping smeared mascara from your temples.

You swear you could have blacked out from arousal right then and there.

“Did you call a cab?” He asks, steadily stroking the warm cloth over your eyes. You nod. He smiles and wipes the remaining smudged makeup from your skin. “Good.” He tosses the rag onto the bed.

When you finally stand, he dips down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You lean into it, your stomach twisting with images of the night before.

“Get home safe, sweetheart.” He brushes a soft kiss over your lips, then he’s gone.

You: I’m still sore

Bucky: I bet. Did you get home safe?

You: Yup, safe and sound.

You: When can I see you again?

Bucky: I’ll be busy next week, but after that, when are you free?

You: Any day after that, I’ll make time :)

You: I’ll tell you my work schedule when I get it

Bucky: Can’t wait. I was thinking of your pretty smile the whole way home.

You: That all?

Bucky: And a few other things.

You: Liiiiike

Bucky: Typing this shit out is a lot harder for someone my age, doll.

You: You act like you’re 60

Right as you send that message, another from him comes through.

Bucky: I was thinking about what you would look like with your mouth full.

Bucky: I’m 40, I’m getting up there.

You: I like where your head's at

You: I can’t wait for next week to be over

Though until this morning, you wouldn’t have meant that. You’re actually really looking forward to the upcoming week.

To kick off the summer, your dad invited you and your friends to join him and your step-mother for a week on his new boat. It had been a long running tradition in your family to spend a week with your dad as the weather turned scorching.

He always looked forward to spending time with you, and now he had a shiny new investment to show off to you and his friends.

Free vacation on a boat? Who turns that down?

Natasha was giddily joining you, though Wanda wasn’t gonna be able to make it. She already had a trip planned with her brother to go visit their parents back home. So you and Nat promised to take as many pictures as you could.

“Are you still texting him?” Nat glanced at you, momentarily taking her eyes off the road.

“Maybe,” you grin, tapping your thumbs against the screen.

“I should have left you behind.” She rolls her eyes. “You better not spend all week drooling over your phone.”

“I won’t, I won’t. I’m just having fun.” You snicker. “He’s so cute with how he texts.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Don’t start.”

The air feels brisk on your skin, with each brush of the breeze. You can almost taste the salt. Laughter drifts from ahead.

Further down the dock, you see your dad handing his wife a crate of beer. She tucks it under her arm and steps onto the looming, luxurious Yacht. “Dad!”

He grins when he sees you, waving dramatically. “Hey, hon,” He scoops you into a bear hug. “And Natty,” He yanks Nat into his arms. She chuckles, smiling to herself .

“Hey Mr. L/n,” she pats his back and releases him.

“How was the drive?” He lifts another pack of beer, handing it to his wife. The older woman waves hello and smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good, Nat drove the whole way,” you bump her shoulder. “I’m just itching to go swimming- when’s take off?” Your father lifts your bags onto the boat, leading the way to the cabins.

“We were just waiting on you two, I’ll let the crew know we’re good to go while ya’ll get settled.” You follow him through the bottom lower deck, into the first of the several lounge areas.

You whistle low, dragging your fingertips along expensive sofas. Nat hides her shock with slightly raised brows. Just past the kitchen is a spiral staircase that leads below deck.

Your room was larger than you thought it’d be. “Geez…” You huff.

“I would have given ya’ll one of the nicer rooms, but since you’re sharing, I thought you’d be fine with the two twins. ‘S that cool, hon?” Your dad slides your suitcases into the shiny, luxurious room.

“There’s bigger rooms?” Nat gapes.

“I’ll give you the grand tour after dinner, how’s that?” He grins. “But first, you two get changed, I want you to meet everyone. We’re having drinks on deck one. Bars on deck three. ‘You girls need anything else?”

“Nah, we’re fine- we’ll meet you up top!” You pull your suitcase on your bed, yanking the zipper open.

You dad says his goodbyes and slips out of the room. Natasha immediately turns to you with a dropped jaw and widely gesturing hands.

“I mean- come on!” She flops back on her bed.

“Right?” You laugh, pulling out your bikini and shawl. “The perks of the corporate ladder.” You sigh wistfully.

“Maybe we need to quit our jobs and go for the office life.” Natasha stretches with a groan.

“You wouldn’t last a day,” you toss your sunscreen at her.

“Hey,” she catches the bottle and shoots up. “I’ve got a good two weeks in me.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, get dressed. I wanna indulge in the free bar.”

The yacht pulled off from the dock shortly after you boarded. You could feel the initial sway of the water as the mass steadily bobbed. After getting dressed, you and Nat made quick work of exploring the kitchen and luxury lounges.

On the second deck, you found a built in, fully stocked bar. A young man worked the bar, who you eagerly interrogated about the boat.

Apparently, there was a crew of 11 people, all who slept in the very bottom ship. There were three chefs, one bartender, and the rest worked on steering and maintaining the boat.

Two of the maintenance crew worked the diving deck, which was stocked with scuba gear and emergency watercrafts.

Natasha moves behind the bar to pick through the liquor while you continue interrogating the young man. You assume your father had just hired him, because he seemed eager and a little nervous.

“Y/n, hon, c’mere!” Your father shouts from the deck below.

You pull back from the built in bar, plucking a cherry from a small bowl. “I’ll be right back,” you chuckle, leaving Nat to continue mixing your drinks.

You jog down to the lower deck where your father and his friends are talking over beer. You adjust your sunglasses as you step around the built in couch.

“I want you to meet everyone- where’s Natty?” Your dad frowns, squinting up at the bar.

“She’s getting our drinks, she’ll be-...” The words die on your tongue as one of the men by the railing turns back to look at your dad. Then you.

Cool blue eyes find yours.

You can see the moment recognition fries his brain. Furrowed brows shoot to his hairline, dark eyelashes flutter as he gapes at you.

“Oh, hon, c’mere,” Your dad shoves you forward. “This is James, he lives a few houses down from me. He’s my running buddy.” He grins ignorantly.

Your tongue feels weighted and dry as you stare up at the man. “Hi.”

“James, this is my daughter, Y/n. She’s here with her friend Natasha,” he points over your shoulder to the red head.

Bucky’s shocked expression shifts back into something resembling calm. “Nice to meet you,” his lips twitch in a soft smile. You glance down at the large hand outstretched towards you.

You visibly shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze.

“Yeah, you too-” You loosely shake his hand. You try not to shiver when his callouses brush over your smooth skin.

Bucky’s lips curve into an amused smile.

“Uh- James, you said?” You blurt, yanking your hand back.

“James, but I go by Bucky.” Bucky straightens, his curious gaze sweeping over you. You stiffen, turning to your dad to avoid the obvious flush that begs to creep up your neck.

“I prefer James,” your dad shrugs, nudging the man.

“So…” you swallow, “you’re the James my dad’s been training with?” You knew your father had a friend he worked out with. You knew he had help training for the marathon he ran last spring. But him?

Bucky nods slowly, his blue eyes piercing. “Mhm.”

Your words fizzle out as you stare up at the man. The air feels thin and sharp around you. You feel the weight of your phone in your hand, memories of the texts you shared with him just that morning haunting you.

“And this is Bruce, we work together-” You dads voice cut through the moment as he pulls forward his other friend.

You swallow and take a step back, turning to the other older men introducing themselves to you. You nod along in a daze, not absorbing a single name or relationship.

“I’m- I’ll be right back, I’m gonna grab Nat so you don't have to repeat all this later.” You awkwardly interrupt your dad.

Bucky’s gaze burns into the side of your face.

Your dad makes a face and nods, cracking open a beer. “Mkay, be quick!”

You’re already walking away, trying not to shiver under the weight of Bucky watching you. You can feel it. You hear the low rumble of his voice as he says something to your father.

Your ears start ringing. You nearly slam into Natasha on the way back up the stairs. “Come with me-” You blurt, dragging her with you.

“Hey- don’t make me spill, I just made these.” She hisses.

“I don’t care-” You pull her into the cabin on the second story. You slam the sliding door shut, heaving a rough sigh. “He’s here- and he’s friends with my dad.” You shiver, suspiciously glancing out the window at the deck.

You look for only a second, but it’s like he can feel you. Blue eyes snap up to the window as he takes a slow swig of beer. You choke down an undignified yelp.

“Who? What is happening right now?” Nat smack your arm.

“The older guy from the other night- he’s here.”

Nat stares at you for a long moment, a disbelieving smile spreading across her red lips. “The guy that screwed your brains out?”

You shiver and roll your eyes. “Yes, Nat he’s here- oh my god and he knows my dad-” You huff.

“He’s actually friends with your dad?” Nat snickers, taking a sip from her cocktail. “That’s rich.”

“I was literally texting him on the drive here-” You take your drink from her. You gather you’ll be needing a lot of those to get through this trip.

Nat peaks her head through the glass door. She glances back at you with a cheeky look. “Might wanna finish that, looks like he’s coming up.”

Your heart, once again, drops to your ass. You down the rest of your drink, then the rest of Nat's. “Get out, go, go-” You shoo her. She snickers to herself as she slips out. You hear her voice as she says a sly “Excuse me,” on the way down the stairs.

Oh god.

You barely have a second to collect yourself before he’s standing in front of you.

The door slides shut with a click.

Your gaze slides from the floor to his face, shamelessly taking him in. He’s dressed in black swim trunks and a compression t-shirt, accentuating the dips of his muscles.

“Hi,” you gulp.

“Hi,” he tries to suppress the cheeky grin that fights its way onto his face. His sharp gaze trails over your bathing suit, to the cover up that covered nothing, to the tight grip you had on your glass.

“So this is what was keeping you busy for the next week.” You supply helpfully.

“Mhm,” he takes a careful step closer. You don’t pull back. He slowly pulls the sunglasses from your face and sticks them in your hair. “Your dad, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” He mutters, his fingers brushing a line down your cheek.

You glance out the tinted windows, down where Natasha was socializing with your dad. Nerves and paranoia curl into something painful as it flutters in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your breath hitching in your chest when his thumb drags over your lips.

“You’re full of surprises,” he hums, tilting his head down at you. He curls his hand around your jaw, lifting your head fully to look at him. You swallow heavily. “So,” he sighs, his breath ghosting your cheek, “What do you want to do?”

You try to hide the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of breathlessness. You try to seem unaffected. You blink stupidly. “What?”

His fingers twitch against your jaw, pressing softly into your cheeks. His smirk curls deeper. “What do you want to do?” He repeats.

“Do you want to pretend nothing happened?” His free hand tugs the empty glass from your fingers. He slips it on the table behind you. “We can ignore the other night and play nice for your dad. Or,” His grip tightens slightly against your jaw, his smile deepening. His pretty crows feet curve against his skin. “Or we make good on our plans.”

“Our plans,” you pant, leaning into him subconsciously. “For seeing each other again?”

“Mhm,” he hums, his free hand skating down your naked waist. “I could show you a few of the things I’ve been thinkin’ about.” He drags his rough palm over your hip. He doesn’t even seem to hesitate over his next words. “You ever been fucked on a boat, sweetheart?”

You shiver, your eyes falling shut. You shake your head.

“Words,” he whispers, his nails pressing into your hip.

“No,” you gasp, swallowing around your tongue. His firm grip on your jaw keeps you from hiding from him. “I haven't.”

“Mm,” he nods in thought. “Wanna try it?”

You nod without thought, blinking back up at him. Your body feels hot. You can feel your pulse in your toes. “Yeah.” You pant.

He smirks, tugging you closer by the jaw. He presses a bruising kiss to your lips, his stubble scraping your face raw. His tongue drags slowly over yours, slow and claiming.

He hums appreciatively, guiding you gently with each slick slide of the kiss. Your wandering hands find his chest, your fingers curling into his tight black shirt.

He snickers into your mouth as you press closer, mocking your desperation.

A chorus of laughter drifts from outside, shocking you back into the moment. You yank back, he lets you go without a fight. You stumble into the table behind you with a wince. Bucky tilts his head at you, brown hair highlighted with grays falling into his eyes.

“Careful,” he glances at your hip. But your gaze is stuck on the way his tongue swipes over his slick lips. He leans back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest.

You suck in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. Why can’t you catch your breath? “My dad can’t find out.” You blurt.

He chuckles. “Goes without saying, sweetheart.”

You nod to yourself, wiping a hand down your face. You wince internally, hoping your lips don’t look too puffy. “Okay- okay, um…”

Bucky sees your panic and sighs. He pushes off the wall, stepping back into your space. You curse yourself, still barely holding it together. He pushes thick locks of hair behind your ears, cupping your face. “If you don’t want him to find out, you have to relax,” he mutters.

You nod, your cheeks puffing from his hold.

He bites back a smile. He pecks your lips, gentler than you were expecting. “C’mon, go get a drink and socialize. I’ll find you later,” he whispers, pulling back with a light smile. “Just relax.”

“Okay,” you nod obediently, taking a deep breath.

He chuckles and releases you. “You’re cute,” he shakes his head, then slips out the glass doors. You’re left alone, struggling to breathe.

When you rejoin the party, Nat’s telling a story, and has every last one of the men wrapped around her finger. You slide up beside her, dropping onto the heated leather of the couch.

The sun hangs high in the cloudless sky, beating down on your skin. You’re sweating. But you can’t tell if it's from the literal heat, or from the way you keep glancing back at Bucky- only to find him already looking at you.

He sips slowly on his beer, his palms growing slick against the perspiration. You spot the pink of his tongue as it swipes over the rim.

You snap your gaze back to the center, to where your father is boasting about fishing stories.

“I’ve been trying to get my girl to come with me, but she just hates her old man,” he huffs, gesturing to you.

“Dad, fishing isn’t exactly up my alley.” You shake your head at him.

“You go hiking with your mother all the time,” he pouts.

“Because hiking doesn’t include fish guts, and sitting in silence. Take one of them fishing!” You snicker, tossing your hand at his group of friends.

“James said he’d fish with me once we park her,” your dad pats the metal backing of the couch.

Your gaze flickers to the mentioned man, who peaked up once hearing his name. “You fish, James?” You watched him over the rim of your glass, sipping on your cocktail.

His lip twitches in amusement. “Mm, not much.” He mutters, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “But I’ll give it a try, since you’re slackin’ on your old man.”

You shake your head, taking a cherry stem between your teeth. “Please tell me you won’t be gutting fish out here,” you turn to your dad.

“We can’t eat it if we don’t prepare it, hon,” Your dad chuckled, setting a hand on his belly.

“The stink of fish guts is exactly what this vacation needs,” your step-mother, Claire, grimaces as she walks up with a bowl of chopped fruit. “I’m with Y/n. If you’re fishing out here, you’re throwing it back.”

You grin, taking the bowl from the woman. “Thank you very much, Claire.”

“Will you give it a try then?” Bucky’s voice makes you freeze, a thick chunk of watermelon stuffed into your cheek. “Without the stink and death, might as well.”

You chew slowly, your stomach turning as you lock eyes with the man. “I think you can handle it on your own.” You pass the bowl of fruit to Nat. “I’ll sit in the hot tub and watch.”

“Watchin’s no fun.” He sips on his beer. Under the bright rays of sunlight, you can see the speckled gray of his hair a little clearer.

“I’ll make do.” You shrug, crossing your legs. You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers to the movement. Your stomach twists with something hot.

“I’ll go fishing with you guys,” Bruce, one of your dads other friends, awkwardly chimes in. You could almost laugh at the innocent shift.

“I’ll go with Y/n and sit back. I’m not one for fishing.” Everett, another friend, makes a sarcastic face before swigging from his beer.

Natasha sets the bowl of fruit on the couch and tugs you up by the arm. “I’m done with fish talk, come sit with me while I tan.”

You throw one last look over your shoulder as she drags you off. Blue eyes follow you with each step. You snap your gaze forward, your stomach twisting. “Jesus,” you whisper.

“You two are real subtle, babe.” Nat chuckles, dragging you down onto two soft beach chairs. You scoot your chair closer and cross your arms over your eyes.

“He’s so hot,” you groan.

“Say it louder, for the crew to hear.” She snickers, laying back with a sigh.

You bite back a smile, stretching your limbs out to soak in the sun. If you put aside the twisting flurry of arousal and attraction burning in your gut, you felt relaxed.

Beyond relaxed. Out here, the air is crisp and fresh, smelling of salt and sunscreen. On the lower decks, if you leaned close enough over the railing, you could feel the cold water misting your face.

You’ve been excited for this trip for weeks now, feeling like summer has finally arrived.

All you wanted to do was swim in the ocean and lounge around with free snacks.

Now, you wanted the same things. Just add screwing the shit out of Bucky to that list, and it’d be perfect.

After you finally get your fill of the sun, you and Nat move down to soak in the hot tub. You have to turn down the temperature so you don't get heat stroke, but god those bubbles feel nice. You sink back into the water and stare up at the clear sky as Nat rambles quietly.

Natasha doesn’t often allow herself to wind down. You were honestly still shocked you got her to join you.

The jets hum softly beneath you, easing your muscles as the salt-tinged breeze brushes your skin. The day’s heat lingers, but the warm water cocoons you in comfort, making the transition into evening feel effortless.

It’s quiet, but not silent. You hear the soft lapping of waves against the hull, the occasional distant call of seabirds, and maybe the gentle clink of ice in a nearby cocktail glass.

The sun slowly drifts towards the horizon, casting melted colors across the water. Light reflects off the waves, rocking and swaying with each brush of the wind.

The drive over took you girls longer than you thought it would, so by the time you set out, it was the late afternoon. With only a few hours on the water, dinner time was already around the corner.

“Girls, start drying off, we’re heading in for dinner,” your father shouts up at you from the lower deck.

Nat rises from the water, playfully splashing you on her way out. “You coming?”

“Mhm, in a minute, I’ll meet you inside.” You hum, your eyes sliding closed.

“Mkay,” Nat wraps the towel around herself and leaves you to yourself. You can hear your fathers loud, boisterous laughter from inside. You assume he’s getting giddy over dinner.

You sink deeper into the water, the warmth beckoning you in as the air grows chillier.

“You planning on skipping dinner?” You jump, water splashing over the edge as you look back. Bucky smiles at you from the steps, that cheeky look on his lips.

“No, just didn’t wanna get out yet.”

“Mm,” he hums, tilting his chin up to glance at the temperature gauge.

“Are you not heading in?” You swallow, feeling bare beneath his gaze.

He shrugs. “They’re gonna bring the food outside, to the lounge.” He nods his head to the lower deck. He snags your towel from the nearby chairs and holds it out for you. “C'mon.”

You lift a brow at him. “Bossing me around now?” You huff, but obediently climb out of the water.

Bucky watches the droplets slide down the valley between your breasts. “‘Mhm,” he hums, a soft sigh leaving his chest when the towel wraps fully around you. “You’re good at listenin’.”

You swallow, your throat feeling dry. “Am I?”

“We’ll find out.” He smirks, gently pushing wet hair from your face. You shiver beneath his touch.

You glance around you, paranoia mixing with arousal. “Someone could see…” You whisper.

His smile twists deeper. His palm curls around your nape. Your knees feel like jelly. “I know,” he mutters, slowly guiding you indoors. You pant softly, feeling breathless as he maneuvers you with a possessive grip.

You follow him into the small sitting area, nothing up there but the bathrooms and a few sofas. A spiral staircase stood between the two restroom doors.

“Where are we going?” You waver, your breath hitching when his thumb strokes your neck.

“Right here,” he pushes you out of view of the windows, pressing you to the wall. Your head knocks back against the firm wall, your gaze a little spacey. Bucky’s warm fingers slip beneath your towel, tugging until it falls to the floor. You gasp, your stomach clenching.

He smiles to himself, pleased with how reactive you are. His knuckles trail between your breasts, then brush over your stomach. “What room’s yours?”

“Huh?” You blink, staring up at him.

He chuckles, meeting your gaze. “What room’s yours?” He tilts his head, his knuckles brushing the hem of your bathing suit bottoms.

“It’s- It’s the fourth one down, to the left,” you pant. “I’m sharing with Nat.”

He nods slowly, his fingers sliding beneath the ties of your bottoms. You hold your breath. “Mkay,” he mutters, pulling back and releasing the band with a snap. You flinch, your stomach flipping. He snickers at you.

A heat rises up your neck, embarrassed and too flustered to care.

“My room is the first one to the right, when you go down the main steps.” He whispers, the hand on your neck gently massaging your muscles. Your lashes flutter. He leans down, trailing his lips over your throat.

“Careful,” you swallow, “not to rub off my foundation…”

“Hm?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to the hinge of your jaw.

“I’m- I’m wearing makeup on my neck.” He pulls back enough to look at you, his brow quirked. “You left a few marks the other night. I had to cover them up.”

The sly grin that spreads across his face is less than subtle. His thumb presses firmly to your neck, where he still holds your nape. “Might wanna go easy on swimming.”

“Waterproof,” you smirk.

“Gotta love science,” he dips back down to press a lingering kiss to your jaw. “Where?”

Your shaky hand slides between you. You tap the curve of your shoulder. “Here,” you tilt your head back. “Here,” you brush the apple of your throat. “Here,” you trail your fingertips to several places along your collarbones.

His warm breath tickles your throat as he chuckles, finding great amusement in marking you up. “Don’t want daddy to see,” he pulls back, releasing his grip on your nape.

You roll your eyes, arching into his touch as his fingers press into your side. “Shut up.”

“Do you remember what I said?”

You frown. “What?”

“Where's my room?”

“Oh-” you smack your lips, smiling awkwardly. “Nope.”

“First one to the right when you go down the main steps.” He repeats. “Repeat it back.”

You shiver under his authoritative tone. “First one to the right.”

“What staircase?” He lifts a brow.

“Main one, the main stairs.” You swallow.

He gives you a pleased smile. “Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips over yours.

You lean into it, but he’s gone too soon. He steps back, leaving you cold and panting. You frown at him as he picks up your towel. “Dinners starting. Don’t wanna keep them waiting.”

You wrap the towel around yourself and nod, wiping a hand down your flushed face. Before you can get another word out, Bucky’s already leaving the room.

You stare at him go, trying desperately to catch your breath.

You find yourself at Bucky’s door late into the night.

Dinner was lengthy, shared over drinks and laughter, and plans for the next day. After the meal was finished, everyone took their desserts- scoops of ice cream- to the deck to stare at the stars.

Out on the ocean the stars burned brighter. For the first time in your life, you could really count the constellations.

Your father and his friends poured over generous amounts of beer, listening to music and shouting with laughter.

You and Nat stayed to yourselves, watching and snickering at your dad as he got more and more drunk.

When the night finally came to an end, you felt more awake than ever. You spent the entire night dodging looks from Bucky- hoping to keep your composure.

And now, freshly showered and changed, you stood outside his door. Praying he wasn’t asleep.

You knocked gently on the door, your knuckles thudding softly.

With little to no shame, you leaned in and listened for any signs of life. You waited, barely breathing, but heard nothing. You started to doubt yourself, when you finally caught the sound of the bathroom door clicking.

The door swung open in front of you, revealing Bucky, messily toweling his hair dry. Your gaze travels down his body, to the dark blue boxers being all that clothed him.

A large hand slips around your wrist, tugging you inside. “Standin’ in the hall isn’t exactly secretive,” He chuckles, closing the door behind you.

“Right,” You whisper, peeking around him into his room. You blow out an impressed whistle. “Damn, my dad was serious about the rooms. We got the short end of the stick.”

You step further into the room, to the full sized bed and spacious bathroom.

Plush cream carpet, smooth cherry wood accented walls, polished marble crowning, warm glowing lights. Three towering windows peaked out to the dark blue ocean. By the doors to the hall and bathroom sat a cushioned sofa, where Bucky’s suitcase lived.

Rough hands settle on your hips, a thumb slipping beneath your shirt. Your stomach tenses as stubble drags over the tender flesh behind your ear.

“Maybe don’t mention your dad while you’re in here,” he chuckles throatily, the sound vibrating gently into your skull.

You nod shakily, leaning back into his firm chest. “Right,” you whisper.

His warmth sinks through the thin fabric of your top.

“Did you have fun tonight, baby?” He drags a soft kiss along the side of your neck.

“Mhm, lots.” You sigh, tilting your head back for him.

“Excited for tomorrow?” He presses his lips beneath the curve of your jaw, inhaling deeply. You shiver, your lashes fluttering closed. “Gonna go swimmin’?”

You nod, rolling your head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, smelling your conditioner. “Yeah,” you swallow. “Gonna go diving. What about you? ‘Re you gonna fish with you-know-who?”

He slaps your ass playfully, chuckling into your hair. “Watch it.” You press back into him with a sigh, a smile curling at your lips.

“Oops.”

His fingers slip beneath your shirt, his palm pressing into you as he brushes your stomach. “Bring up you-know-who again and Imma fuckin’ gag you,” he huffs, dragging his finger tips along the hem of your bra.

You groan, pushing your hips back against him. “Don’t tempt me.”

He shakes his head at you, pulling his hands from your shirt. He pushes you forward by the hips until you’re in the center of the room. You look back at him with a frown, swaying on your feet unsteadily.

Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed, his knees spread naturally. “Look at me,” he tilts his head at you.

You turn to face him, but before you can move any further, he shakes his head.

“I wanna see how good you listen,” he smirks, looking up at you through dark lashes.

You breath hitches in your chest, like your lungs are slowly being pressed down on by something stronger. Something big. “Okay,” you whisper.

He gives you a pleased look. He slides his hand down his thigh. Your gaze drops to his underwear. To the tent, steadily forming.

“Eyes on me sweetheart,” He chuckles, making you jump. Your eyes snap back to his. “Get undressed.”

You shiver, nodding shakily as you yank your top off. You nearly trip over yourself as you tug your pants off, tossing them somewhere across the room. “This too?” You breathlessly gesture at yourself, your underwear.

“Mm-mm. Not yet.” He smiles. “C’mere,” he holds his hands out to you.

You step between his spread knees, your hands falling to his shoulders. His rough hands slide down your body, along the dip of your waist, over the curve of your ass. You arch into his touch, a flush rushes up your neck as you stare down at him.

He leans forward, holding your gaze as he presses a gentle kiss to your stomach. His palms curl around the backs of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into the soft flesh. He tilts his head up, dragging a soft kiss along the swell of your breasts.

His hands slide back up, over your shoulders. He pushes the straps back. “Now?” You whisper into the quiet air between you.

He smirks, his stubble casting a dark shadow into his smile lines. He nods, watching with his lip between his teeth as you unlatch the clasp. You drop the flimsy material to the carpet.

A warm flush burns behind your skin as you inhale a shaky breath, standing before him bare.

“Hm,” he hums softly, his large hands sliding up your stomach to gently palm your breasts. “So pretty, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your nipple, his thumb circling the other one.

You shiver, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he swipes his tongue over the soft point. His sharp stubble drags over the tender underside of your breast. “Prettiest.”

You sink your teeth into your tongue, forcing yourself to stay quiet. Something about the quiet way he nips at your chest makes you feel breathless. Embarrassed.

“Bucky…” You pant, swallowing around your dry tongue.

“Want somethin’, baby?” he smiles as he rolls your nipple between his teeth. “Speak up.”

You tug gently on his hair. “I don’t know what I want…”

He lifts his head, a smirk curled deeply on his face. “Yeah,” he whispers, his hand cupping your jaw. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling at it gently. “But you know what to do.”

You nod into his touch, sucking his thumb into your mouth. He makes a pleased sound. You slowly sink to your knees, your tongue swirling around the rough pad of his finger. He presses down on your tongue, watching the way your jaw drops.

He watches you, something dark in his eyes. Like he was seeing something you couldn’t. “‘S that feel good? Havin’ something in your mouth?”

You nod, your lashes fluttering as you lean into his large hand. “Mhm…”

His smirk twists into a dark grin, something pleased spreading across his face. He pulls his thumb from your mouth, then wipes it on your cheek. He pushes his fingers back into your hair. Your wet lips press together as your struggle for air. You blink up at him, something hot and slick pooling in your stomach.

“Show me you know how to be good.” He whispers, his nails scratching at your scalp.

You drop your head to his thigh, choking on an aroused gasp. God, you can’t catch your breath. He chuckles at you, gently petting your hair.

“Too much, baby?” He hums, his lips press together as he coos down at you.

“No- no,” you shake your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“Then do as you’re told,” the command is firm, but his sweet tone softens the blow. You shiver and nod obediently, fluttering your eyes open from where your cheek is pressed to his thigh.

You pant softly, your hot breath ghosting over the aching tent in his boxers, inches from your face. You nuzzle forward, dragging your lips over his erection.

Bucky sighs above you, spurring you on.

You press a firm kiss to the shaft, his heat radiating through the fabric. You drag your tongue over the wet spot where the cloth stuck to the head. His fingers tighten in your hair.

“Such a tease,” he chuckles, shaking your head with his firm fist in your hair.

“Can I?” You whisper, your voice muffled from where you nuzzle into his bulge.

“‘F course, baby. Go ahead.” His thumb traces circles into your scalp.

Trembling hands slip under the waistband, tugging down until he lifts his hips. Your breath hitches when you free his aching erection, the length bobbing subtly, flushed a warm color.

You lean forward, sliding your tongue along the thick vein along the underside of his cock. Bucky’s abdomen visibly tenses. He huffs above you, but says nothing.

You press another soft kiss to his tip, precum staining your lips as you pull back. You glance up at him, cold blue eyes meeting yours. Your lips twitch into a cheeky smile as they wrap around the head.

His brows twitch together, his jaw clenching tight as he exhales a shuddering breath.

You suckle gently, your tongue swirling around the head before pressing into his slit. His lashes flutter as he forces himself to keep his eyes on you.

“I was right,” he whispers, using his grip on your hair to guide your head down further. “You look good with your mouth full.”

You hum, hollowing your cheeks on the way down. Bucky’s eyes roll shut, his hips gently rocking into your face. Your throat spasms around him when he presses too far, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You let your eyes fall closed, relaxing yourself as he guides you. You let him take what he wants. The dull ache in your jaw spreads, the tingle in your scalp burns as he yanks at the strands.

But you take it.

A moan falls from Bucky’s lips, the sound rough in his chest. He pants softly, rocking his hips up.

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Just like I knew you would.” He grunts, his stomach twitching as the muscles flutter. “‘Bet you take everything so well. So good for me.”

You moan around his cock, swallowing as he rolls his hips into your mouth. He chokes on a groan, his hips stuttering until he’s pressed to the back of your throat. Your throat spasms again, a wet sound falling from your lips as you struggle to breathe.

Bucky holds you there, his grip on your hair tugging gently as he forces you to kiss his pelvis.

He watches you with a satisfied smirk as you struggle, your eyes rolling shut. “‘Look so cute like this,” he hums, tilting his head. “All full and obedient.”

You choke, your head instinctively pushing back against his hand. Your nails scrape down his inner thighs. You gag quietly, sucking in thin wisps of air around his cock. But you don’t fight him.

Deep down you like it.

Deep down, you burn hot with shame as you press your thighs closer together.

Bucky finally pulls you back up, until only half his length rests against your tongue. You gasp greedily, your mouth falling open. You swallow around his tip, trying to gather yourself. Bucky rolls his hips, fucking his tongue over the slick expanse of your tongue.

You blink up at him, tears blurring your vision.

He grins down at you, his tongue swiping over the points of his teeth.

You watch the muscles in his stomach flutter, twitching as he drags his cock over your tongue. You pant, holding your mouth open for him as he takes what he wants.

You slowly push a trembling hand between your thighs, your fingers pressing against the soaked center of your panties.

Bucky makes a displeased noise from above you, and then he’s yanking you off his cock, a sharp tingling spreading through your scalp. You hiss, your shoulders bunching up.

“So greedy,” he whispers as he kicks your hand away from your thighs.

“Please…” You choke, wiping your tear stains on your shoulder. “Please.”

His expression easily morphs back to something pleased. Something dark. “You wanna show me how good you are, don’t you?” You nod eagerly. “Then wait to do as you’re told.” He whispers, nudging your knees apart with his foot.

“Bucky-” you whine, your lashes fluttering shut as he rubs circles into your throbbing scalp.

“Shh,” he whispers, pulling his hand from your hair. “C’mere.” He gently pats his thigh. You slowly climb into his lap and slide your arms around his shoulders. He strokes a warm hand down your naked back, following the curve. He pinches your chin gently, guiding you to look at him.

“So pretty,” he mutters.

You huff quietly, leaning in to kiss him. He hums against your lips, stifling a chuckle as you take what you want. His fingers curl around your knees as he lifts you up, but you barely register it. You're too busy rutting your hips against his, sucking softly on his tongue.

He moans into your mouth, his hard cock pressed firmly between your bodies. Your stomach twists as the slick head nudges your stomach.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “Please just touch me-”

“I am touching you, baby.” He whispers, gently pressing you against the window. You huff quietly as the cold glass shocks your system. “Just relax, okay?” His palm slides down your thigh until he finds your panties. “I’ll make you feel good.”

You gasp as his fingers press over the soaked fabric sticking to your pussy. He slips his fingers beneath the thin waistband, his callouses rough against your sensitive skin.

“Yeah?” You gasp, grinding into the heel of his palm as his thumb slides through your folds. “You’re gonna-” you swallow around the choked sound that rises when Bucky pushes a finger inside your slick cunt. “You’re gonna take good care of me?”

“Mhm,” he hums, slipping another thick finger inside. “That’s right. ‘Can’t wait to fuck you to tears.” he whispers, curling his fingers against your fluttering walls.

You groan, your nails scraping down Bucky’s nape. “Oh god…”

“Shh,” he kisses your cheekbone gently, nudging your head back against the window. “Just look outside, isn’t the water pretty? Hm?”

Your lashes flutter as you press your hips against his, rolling against his aching erection. His fingers twitch inside you as he gasps, slick precum sticking to your stomach.

“I didn’t say keep your mouth shut, I asked you a question,” he whispers, his stubble burning against your cheek. “Isn’t the water pretty?”

You nod quickly, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Yes- sorry, yes.”

He smiles against your jaw, his breath tickling against your flesh. “Good girl.” He pulls his slick hand from your panties and wraps his large fingers around his throbbing erection. You suck in a shaky breath as you look down between you, watching as Bucky pumps his cock.

His flushed tip peaks through his fist, his slit dribbling precum before he swipes his thumb over the head. He squeezes on the upstroke, soft groans tumbling from his lips.

You watch as Bucky yanks aside your panties, thumbing at your pretty pussy. You gulp, shifting against him as he nudges you with the head of his cock.

“Greedy little thing,” he chuckles, rolling his hips into yours. You choke on a whine as he slowly fills you, his thick length stretching you open.

At some point, your eyes flutter closed, your body humming with electricity as you slowly sink down on his cock. He groans into your neck, his hands gripping you close.

Something about the firm snap of his hips against yours, the mind numbing pleasure, the choked sounds Bucky makes, it all swirls together into a mess of ecstasy.

You lose yourself in the feeling, clinging to Bucky as he fucks you into the window. Outside, the world is silent, gentle waves rocking against the yacht. Outside that room, the world was oblivious to the degrading way Bucky fucked you.

Oblivious to the way you gave yourself over to him. To the humiliating way he whispered in your ear, quietly laughing at every embarrassing sound you made.

In the back of your mind you knew this was wrong. That this was dangerous. That if your father found out, you would drown in your own shame.

But you ignored that little voice in your head. Because you didn’t care. You didn’t care about the age gap, or the humiliation, or the danger. You didn’t care because it just felt so fucking good to sink down on Bucky’s cock as he whispered filth in your ear.

It felt good to pathetically beg for him to take you harder.

It felt good to let go and sob as he fucked you so hard you saw stars.

Bucky’s rough hands slide over the curve of your ass, his fingers pressing bruises into the tender flesh of your thighs. Your sweaty back presses into the cold window, the chill like heaven on your skin.

Bucky rolls his hips into yours, each thrust knocking you up the wall. He chuckles into your throat as you whine, his teeth nipping at your jaw. “‘S that feel good, baby?”

You gasp, his cock punching something tender in your stomach. “Fuck-” you whine. You knock your head back against the window, panting softly.

Bucky hooks his arms under the crooks of your knees, spreading you open for him to torment. “‘You like gettin fucked like a whore on daddy’s boat?” His tongue swipes over his lips. “Huh? ‘S it make you feel dirty?”

You choke on a sob, your eyes fluttering shut. “Bucky-” you whine.

He chuckles, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Hm? Tell me, sweetheart.”

You pant softly, sinking down on his cock. Bucky unloops a hand from your leg and slithers between you, his fingers pressing over your lower stomach. Your eyes roll back as Bucky groans into your hair. He slides his palm firmly over your lower stomach, feeling his own cock move inside you.

You roll your head back, your tear stained cheek pressed to the cold glass. Your lashes flutter against the fog your breath casts. Beyond the mind numbing pleasure, you registered the dark roll of the ocean, moonlight reflecting off the surface.

“You still in there, sweetheart?” He snickers, chewing at your earlobe. You shudder, rolling your hips against his. “Try to focus, baby.” he whispers.

You roll your head back to look at him, your fingers curling in his dark hair. A flush rises up his neck, painting his skin a warm color. His lips part around muffled groans, his brows furrowed. Blue eyes watch you with intensity, almost too much.

You shudder in humiliation, gasping quietly as Bucky pets his fingers down your stomach, his thumb brushing over your clit. “You’re so cute when you’re fucked stupid,” he grins lazily.

He swipes a stray overwhelmed tear from your cheek, then sucks it off his thumb.

You rock your hips into his, the coil in your stomach twisting tighter. Desperation flares in your chest as your second orgasm draws closer, just within reach.

“I-I can’t-” you whimper, locking your ankles tighter around his waist.

Bucky coos, his heavy hand petting down the side of your face. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He whispers. He peppers gentle kisses against your lips, his facial hair scratching your soft skin. “You’re okay,” he slowly pumps his cock into your soaked cunt, each roll of his hips rendering himself breathless.

He pants into your mouth, his tongue pressing into yours.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, palming your breast between you. You sob against his lips, pressing closer to him as you whine. He chuckles, dragging a soft kiss against the corner of your lips. “Shh, gotta stay quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear.”

You nod helplessly against him, squirming as he slows his thrusts. “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good- I promise…” you whisper.

“That’s right,” he smiles, grinding his cock into your cunt. “Be a good girl for me and keep quiet. Wanna keep you all to myself, can’t have daddy hear his little girl sobbing over my cock.”

You choke on a moan, your stomach clenching at his words. Your walls flutter around him, making his hips stutter. “Jesus-” you gasp, rolling your head back into the window. “Please just fuck me-”

He snickers, his arms curling back under your knees as he pulls you away from the window. “I’ll take care of you, baby.” He carefully lays you back on his bed, then pushes your arms up over your head. “You just need to be a good girl and take it.”

He snaps his hips forward, catching you off guard. You make a punched out noise as he presses your wrists into the blankets and fucks you into the mattress.

He licks over your lips as you pant, jaw slack. You press your heels into his lower back, pulling him closer.

“That’s it, just take it.”

“Get your ass up, James, we’re going fishing!” The door rattled heavily under the beat of your fathers fist.

You startled awake, your eyes snapping open. Bucky flinched on top of you, his head snapping up from where he was nuzzled into your neck. You twitch, blinking groggily against the sunlight streaming through the window.

Bucky’s large hands skate down your naked body, his palm resting against your ass.

The door rattles again, your father knocking repeatedly. “We're in the middle of the ocean, get off your ass!”

“I’m comin’!” Bucky shouts, wiping a hand down his face. “Let me get up, asshole.”

Your father laughs heartily as he walks down the hall. Bucky drops his head back against your chest, his lips grazing your collar bone. He sighs, grumbling as he curls his arms back around your body. You grunt as he pulls you close, rolling almost on top of you.

You squirm, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Your leg shifts where it's thrown over Bucky’s hip, your arms stretch over his shoulders.

Bucky yawns as he rubs his face against your shoulder, his stubble stinging your sensitive flesh. “G’morning…”

You swallow, your nails raking down his spine. “Morning, handsome.”

You feel him smile against your neck, a soft chuckle vibrating from his chest to yours. He pushes up, leaning over you with a lazy grin. He strokes your side, his fingers dancing over your breast to slide up your jaw. “Aren’t you pretty,” he hums, leaning down to peck your lips.

You tilt up into him, your lips dragging over his tenderly. A soft blush flushes your skin, staining you with your own embarrassment. When he pulls back you finally get a good look at him, with his messy bed head and soft blue eyes, crows feet curling at the corners as he smiles.

Words are lost on you for a moment.

A knock cuts through the silence again, thumping against the door. “I’m making breakfast, are you coming up? The girls are still asleep, so it’ll just be us and the guys.” Your dad must be making his rounds, waking up his friends, since he circled back.

You flinch again, cringing quietly. Bucky bites back a smile as he pushes his fingers into your hair, raking back the tangled strands. You involuntarily lean into his hand, purring beneath his firm touch.

“If you’re not getting up, I’m waking up the girls and you’ll be the only one left out.” Your father grumbles from the hall.

You flinch, your body going rigid. “How am I getting out of here?” You whisper, dragging your nails down his chest.

Bucky winces, his fingers pressing into your nape. “Jesus, man, I’m coming- pull the stick outta your ass,” he shouts over his shoulder, leaning up a little further.

You shamelessly peak down between your bodies, ogling the muscles in his abdomen as they tense.

“Alright, alright, then I’m going up. Wake up the girls when you’re done, okay?”

“Fine,” Bucky responds, listening for footsteps. When he finally turns back, he catches you staring down at him. A sly smirk slips across his lips. “Eyes are up here, doll.”

Your gaze snaps up to his, suppressing a smile with your teeth. “Oops.”

He shakes his head at you with mock exasperation. He clicks his tongue at you. “Nasty girl,” he snickers, diving down to sink his teeth into your shoulder. You giggle, choking on a gasp.

“Hey- I don’t want to bruise!” You squirm, stifling your laughter in his hair.

He soothes over the bite with his tongue, licking gently over his teeth marks. “You’re already painting half your body with makeup, what's a few more?”

You tug at his hair. “It makes my life a whole lot harder,” you laugh.

He rolls his eyes playfully, leaning back over you. “Fine, but you should have reminded me last night,” he hums, kissing over your purpling hickeys. “I count two more, today.”

You groan, twisting beneath Bucky. “Jesus- my neck is off limits now.” You huff, covering your face with your hands.

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head. “Nope, not happening. I like that part.”

You roll your eyes, grinning to yourself. “Shut up-”

He snickers, shifting between your legs. The sheets fall by your feet as he sits back on his ankles, your thighs spread over his. You shudder, instinctively reaching to cover yourself. Bucky catches your squirming hands, his hand wrapping around your wrists.

“Ah-ah,” he grins, sliding a palm down your thigh, over your hip bone. “I like lookin’ at you.” He holds your wrists to your lower stomach. “I haven’t gotten to do that enough.” He mutters, his gaze wandering over your exposed body.

“Bucky-” you pant, your cheeks heated in embarrassment. “We should- we have to go, my dad’s gonna come down to find us-”

He smiles shamelessly at your subtly squirm. His palm strokes over the notch of your hip, over the dip of your waist, along the underside of your breast.

“Shouldn’t be mentioning him in here, remember?” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Especially not when you're naked in my bed.”

You groan, tugging against the hold he has on your wrists. “You brought him up like a thousand times last night-”

He snickers at you, leaning down to lick a kiss into your mouth. You groan, tilting your chin up into him. He smirks, finally releasing your wrists.

“Alright, fine.” He huffs, pulling back. You swallow a disappointed sigh as he rolls out of bed. You watch him as he finds his suitcase where it's propped on a small sofa. He digs through it until he finds his boxers.

You sigh as you watch them slide over the curve of his ass, shielding him from your prying gaze. He glances back at you, a grin curling at the corners of his lips.

“Perv,” he tugs out a shirt and tosses it to you.

You yank it over your head, shielding yourself. “You’re one to talk.”

You crawl out of bed, picking your clothes up piece by piece.

“That’s for sure,” he mutters, staring at you ass as the shirt rides up when you bend.

You straighten quickly, tugging the hem down. “You’re definitely the perv.” You chuckle, moving towards the door. “An old perv.”

He smacks your ass as he follows you to the door, making you jump. “Shut your mouth,” he huffs, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. You lean back against him, swallowing a sigh.

He nips at your jaw, his fingers tickling your hip. You roll your head back against his shoulder. “I should go…”

“Mhm, you should.” He whispers, pecking a dark bruise along your neck.

You clench your teeth and pull out of his grip. “I should,” you blink through your haze. Without looking back, you creak open the door and peek down the hall. “It’s clear,” you whisper, turning back to him. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

He nods, stroking his knuckles down your cheek. “Mhm, sounds good.” He leans down and kisses you. You sigh against his mouth, rocking on your heels. “I’ll see you then, sweet girl.” He whispers against your lips.

You shiver, pulling back. “Mhm,” you yank the door open and slip into the hall, breathless.

When you finally get back to your room, Natasha is there waiting- already in her bikini and lacy cover-up. When you turn to face her, wearing only Bucky’s shirt and a handful of bruises, she grins.

“You better tell me every last fucking detail.” She drops her phone. “But only after you shower and clean all of him off of you-” she waves a hand at you.

You choke on a laugh. “For sure,” you drop your clothes. “And trust me-” you glance back at her, a hand on the bathroom doorknob. “There’s a lot of him on me.”

She grimaces, shaking her head at you. “Disgusting, get in there.”

You snicker and shut yourself in the bathroom. You make quick work of your shower after catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; hair knotted to all hell, neck littered in hickeys and love bites, lips swollen and flushed.

By the time you were clean and dressed in your bathing suit, Natasha was nearly asleep with boredom. And by the time you were finished telling her about your long, long, night of sexual escapades, you were starving.

“Can-” you spoke through laughter, “can we please go to breakfast now?”

Nat sighs from where she’s spread out on her bed. “Fine- I can imagine you're fucking starved after all-” she gestures between your legs. “That.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes, grabbing your bag of sunblock and towels. “Let's go, once we eat we can go swimming.” You bounce your shoulders in excitement.

Natasha follows you into the hall, smacking your ass as you climb the stairs. “You just wanna get out there so you can see him.”

“Shut it, I don’t want anyone to hear you,” you shove her with your bag. She shrugs as she leads you into the first level cabin.

“Whatever.”

The kitchen smells of bacon and toast when you both finally enter. You find your step-mother smacking a piece of bacon from your dads hand while they quietly bicker about his health.

“Eat some eggs first- you know what the doctor said about your cholesterol.” She huffs, hands on her hips.

Your dad peaks over his wife's shoulder and spots you, relief flooding his expression. “Hon, thank god, come here and let her fret over your health.” He gestures to your step-mom.

You roll your eyes and lean against the counter, plucking the bacon from your dads hand. “Don’t think I’m on your side,” you take a bite. “Eat some fruit or something- did you chop the fruit?” You ask Claire. She nods, turning back to your dad. “See, she even chopped you fruit.” You tsk.

Natasha busies herself with filling glasses with juice and iced coffee. “I don’t think you’re gonna win this one, Mr. L/n.”

You snicker, grabbing your bag to follow Nat. “Just eat your breakfast, dad, then you can go fish, or whatever.”

You step out onto the deck, squinting as the first rays of sunlight hit your skin. The rest of the men stand by the steps leading into the ocean, leaning against the railing as they sip on their coffee.

You snag a large chunk of watermelon off the large table that stretches across the sundeck, littered with plates of food. You pop it in your mouth, humming as the juice spreads over your tongue.

Your wandering gaze flickers over to where Bucky leans over the railing to get a view of fish swimming past. You look away quickly as your dad steps outside, fishing gear in hand.

“Can you get my back?” Natasha shakes her sunscreen at you.

You swallow hard and snag the bottle from her hand. “Turn,” you flick the cap open.

As the sun climbs higher, you find yourself distracted by the beautiful open ocean.

You laugh over breakfast on the deck- fruit, pastries, and maybe something savory- then both you and Nat stretch out, feeling the warmth of the morning sun sink into your skin.

As the first sheen of sweat begins to stick to your skin, you drag Nat from her cushioned lounge chair. Your step-mother films you both as you dive off the stern, splashing into icy water. You release an undignified shriek when you pierce the surface, a chill zips down your spine.

Natasha curses, shivering as she rakes her hair back.

You laugh like kids, splashing and floating along the surface- only taking strides back to the stern when the waves pull you out.

The sea is refreshing, cradling you in its endless embrace. Around you, the yacht bobs gently, anchored on open water with no one else in sight. The water is unbelievably clear, glowing turquoise near the surface and fading to a deep sapphire below. Sunlight dances on the waves like scattered glass.

A soft breeze brushes your shoulders, the sun warms your face. Your laughter carries across the water, mixing with the sound of waves against the hull and a distant seagull’s cry.

When you get tired, you lounge on the floating mat tethered to the back of the boat, bobbing gently, talking about anything and everything.

You stare up at the blue, cloudless sky, Natasha's voice mixing with the sounds of waves, and gentle music floating from the deck speakers.

Above you, you hear your father shouting laughter with his friends.

You abandon Natasha on the float as you roll back into the water, finding your own blow up to aid you as you flutter your feet.

You glance up to find sharp blue eyes tracking you.

Bucky leans against the yacht railing, watching you with a smirk as he sips from his beer. You try not to writhe beneath his weighted gaze. Try to focus on swimming with your friend, enjoying the sun, and snacking on fruit.

But something about that smirk, those sharp blue eyes, the grays spotting his hair. God, he set you on fire.

Your dad was busy on the other side of the boat, patiently struggling with the fish. He decided to fish at a distance for safety reasons, of course, as you and Nat swam.

But you were more thankful because it gave you the ability to freely stare at Bucky.

Natasha floats, her chunky sunglasses protecting her eyes. “If something tries to bite me, please stab it.”

“Thanks for the reminder, I’ll just get my harpoon.” You chuckle, leaning over your float as you gently kick your legs.

“Just put your man on watch,” Nat slides her sunglasses up.

You flinch, sending a splash her way. She snickers quietly, steering her float further out. You glance back up to find Bucky still watching you, his head tilted slightly.

You can barely remember your original plans for this trip. Probably soaking in the sun, reading on the deck, and dancing to overly loud music before bed. But now, all you want to do is huddle up in Bucky’s room and drool on his cock.

You slowly swim over to the stern, only a few feet away from where Bucky stands. “Gonna get in, or ‘re you just gonna stare?”

He takes a slow swig of his beer. “I’m feelin’ pretty good just staring.”

You bite back a grin. “Creep.”

He lifts a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “Watch it.”

“Why? Whatcha gonna do?” You rest your head against the gently bobbing deck, salt water sticking to your skin.

Just as he opens his mouth to respond, your father shouts his name from across the boat. He sighs, shrugging. “Just keep guessing.” He mutters, pushing off the railing.

You huff in disappointment as you're figuratively blue balled by your dad.

“You’re a dirty freak,” Natasha shouts from where she’s floating.

You snicker, pushing off from the dock. “Oh, I know.”

The sun has just dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky streaked with soft orange and pink. The ship is anchored in calm water, and warm lights glow along the deck. Dinner has just wrapped up- plates pushed aside, half-eaten desserts, and cocktails still in hand. The smell of grilled seafood and lemon lingers in the air.

“Bullshit!” You slap your cards down on the table, groaning loudly. “This game sucks.”

“You need to learn to play poker, hun.” Your dad chuckles, peeking at his cards before picking at his plate.

“Sorry I don’t have thirty years of experience.” You huff, sitting back in your seat.

Bruce glances over Everett’s shoulder at his cards. “I’m with your kid, pick a new game.” He mutters, squinting at his little deck. Everett elbows the man in the side.

Bucky chuckles at the men as they bicker, his gaze shifting to yours over his cards.

“I’ve been trying to teach you for years, hon. You never wanna come over for game nights,” your dad complains around his mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes. “Because your game nights are game nights. I don’t wanna sit there while you and your boys shout at the tv. Besides, I’m usually working.” You laugh, picking a cherry from your cocktail.

“I thought restaurant schedules were flexible!” He crossed his arms.

You chuckled, sipping from your fruity drink as the gentle breeze rocked through the air. “They are, but you still have to request your days off.”

“You’re a server?” Bucky’s voice cuts through the lighthearted banter, making your stomach drop. He takes a long swig of beer, watching you over the bottle.

You swallow, a flush rising up your neck as you nod. “Mhm, for two years. Nat and I work together.”

“Do you like it?” He tilts his head, his usually intense gaze softer now as he watches you.

You shrug, your gaze nervously darting away from his. “I do, kinda.”

“I keep telling her to go back to school, but I think she’s too scared.” Your dad butts in.

You flinch, your wide eyes snapping to your father. “Dad, that is not true-”

“Kinda is,” Natasha mutters from behind you, where she’s picking through dinner in the kitchen.

“Quit eavesdropping and just join the conversation like a normal person, please.” You shout, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as he watches you.

“So you never went to school, or you left school?” Bucky asks, resting his beer bottle against his inner thigh. You intentionally force yourself to not look at the delicious way he man-spreads.

“I dropped out-” you cringe, blinking up at him.

“She panicked.”

“Dad-” you groan.

“What? You did- you had a whole thing and dropped out. It’s normal,” he shrugs.

You turn back to Bucky, his patient gaze making you flush. “I didn’t have a whole thing, I just wasn’t sure if I was going down the right path. Now can we stop talking about college? I left so I didn’t have to think about it.”

Bucky smiles gently at the frown that curls at the corner of your lips. “It’s fine,” he chuckles. “There’s nothing wrong with rethinking things.”

You glance back up at him through your lashes, chewing at your cheek. “Yeah?”

He nods silently, tilting his head at you, like he wants to hear more.

“Well-” you swallow, “I like what I’m doing now. So that’s what matters.”

“Hey,” your dad throws up his hands. “I never said that was a bad thing. I just think it’s never too late to go for a degree.”

You roll your eyes at him, downing the rest of your drink. You couldn’t say his insistence was wrong. He came from an experienced point of view- he spent years on his degree, then climbed the corporate ladder until he got where he was. And where he was, was on his own yacht.

It wasn’t a bad deal.

It just wasn’t for you.

“Your age is for exploring new things,” Bucky shrugs at you, sipping his drink.

You lift a subtle brow at him, your stomach turning. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, smothering his smirk. “I tried all sorts of things when I was your age.” He rolls his neck, wincing when it pops.

Your dad groans, waving his hand at Bucky. “Don’t encourage her- nothing you got up to is something I want her exploring.”

You have to press your lips to a thin line to keep yourself from laughing. Something vaguely smug flashes behind Bucky’s eyes. He tosses his hands up in defense.

You dad smacks a kiss to the top of your head, his arm looped around Claire's waist. “Goodnight, honey.” He sings, following his wife inside. You wave, watching them go.

Dinner and games led into drinks, which led to your dad singing on a table. And after an awful three songs, your step mother dragged him off to bed. Everyone retreated inside after that, as the sun sank below the earth, submerging the ocean in a chill.

But you stayed.

So, curled up on the sofa, you stare out at the sea. It's difficult to tell where the water ends and the sky begins, without the bright sun casting its rays.

But the cold moon illuminates the night with a silver glow, making the waves sparkle like stars.

The water is darker than you thought possible- inky, deep, and alive in its own way. Sometimes it’s perfectly still, like black glass. Other times it ripples with silver where the moonlight touches it. Fish darts just below the surface, like shadows scattering.

A gentle breeze rustles your hair, racing shivers down your spine as you pull your knees to your chest. You listen to the soft waves rock against the hull in a gentle rhythm. Like the sea was breathing, beating like a heart.

A thin blanket drops around your shoulders, making you jump. You look to the right to find Bucky rounding the couch, then plop down beside you.

“Hey,” you pull the blanket around your body, shielding your skin from the chill.

“Hi,” he smiles, propping his arm up behind you. You blink at him for a nervous moment, feeling at a loss for words every time you’re alone with him. He just sighs, his fingers brushing your cheek to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You gulp, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. You instinctively glance back to the cabin, where a single light glows in the kitchen. “Someone could see…” You whisper.

“They’re all in bed. Natasha’s the only one roaming the kitchen,” he hums without tearing his gaze from your face.

“Are you sure?” You glance back up at him, your cheeks dusting a warm pink as his knuckle strokes your jaw.

“Mhm, I had to help Claire tuck your dad in.” He chuckles softly.

You chew at your lip, nodding faintly. “Ah.”

“Not ready to turn in yet?” he tilts his head at you.

You shrug, looking back out at the water. “Nah, I wanted to look at the stars for a bit. My favorite part of being on a boat is seeing the sky at night.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head back to look up at the moon. “It’s pretty.” He mutters quietly.

You take a second to stare at his profile, quiet except for the gentle waves. “Mhm.”

“I was lookin’ forward to this trip for the same reason.” He counts the brightest stars. “Sure wasn’t expecting you, though.” He glances at you with a smile.

You huff, looking away from him. “That’s for sure.” You shook your head. “How did you two even meet?”

“I met your dad when I was movin’ into the neighborhood,” he chuckles, his fingers playing with your hair. “He came by and invited me for a barbeque.” You listened silently, shivering when he lightly scratched your scalp. “He started tellin’ me how he wanted to get in shape, so I invited him to join me on my jogs before work. That was about three years ago, now.”

You roll your head to look at him, biting back a smirk. “Speaking of work, my dad lives in a nice ass neighborhood. What do you do?”

“Mechanical engineer,” he hums, his gaze tracing your features.

You gape at him, shaking your head lightly. “Jesus, so you design machines, and stuff?”

“Mechanical systems.” He nods. “Trains, mostly,” his thumb grazes your nape.

“Damn,” you whisper, self consciousness prickling at your skin.

“It’s nothin’ special.” He tilts his head at you. “Tell me about you.” His blunt words make you shiver.

“You heard earlier that I’m a server,” you huff, looking out at the water. “There’s not much else I’m doing…”

“I doubt that,” He makes a face, his lips slightly pouty. He leans in, pressing into your space. “Tell me more,” he whispers, brushing his palm over your hair. “I wanna know.”

Your breath hitches in your chest. You glance back at the cabin in paranoia. “Bucky-” He gently pushes you until you rest on your back, your knees bent.

Bucky leans over you, tenderly brushing the hair from your face. “What?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “I only know one way to open you up.” He kisses between your breasts, his lips trailing over your bikini top to your stomach. “Tell me more.”

You swallow, your legs making way for his body as he trails down to your hips. “I um-” You stammer, glancing down at him as he unties your bathing suit bottoms.

“Tell me about college,” he tugs the last tie free, letting your bottoms fall open. You suck in a tight breath, your knees instinctively wanting to close. He nudges them open.

“I dropped out,” you gulp, dropping your head back against the cushions.

“Why?” He presses a soft kiss to your core, his stubble making your shiver.

“I didn’t know what was doing-” He spreads you open with two fingers. “I didn’t even know if I liked what I was studying anymore-” you gasp when he licks a stripe from your cunt to your clit with the flat of his tongue. “And I was just sick of school…”

“Mhm,” he hums, stroking his tongue through your folds. “So what do you want?” He mutters against you.

“I don’t-” Your lashes flutter as he sucks gently on your clit. “I don’t know-” you gasp. “I like serving, for now…”

“Why do they think you’re scared?” Bucky’s voice is muffled as he kisses your soaked entrance.

“Because I am- a little…” You try to roll your hips into him, but he keeps you pinned down. This is his game. “I’m scared I’ll choose the wrong path and it’ll be too late. Or that I’ll realize down the line-” His tongue dips into your soaked cunt, fluttering slowly. You groan quietly. “-Realize down the line that I wanna do something else,” you continue breathlessly.

“Mm,” he hums quietly. He releases your clit from his lips, pulling back with a slick pop. “There’s no ‘too late,’ sweetheart. You can always change your mind about things,” he looks up at you, watching your face as he strokes circles over your clit with his thumb. “Use this time to explore different jobs,” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “Then go back to school.”

You nod shakily. “Yeah,” you pant. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking…maybe I’ll just start with taking a few classes…”

“There you go,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss to your pussy. You pant as he strokes his tongue through your folds, dipping inside your entrance, then humming against your clit.

Your hands find his hair, needily tugging at the strands as he continues his slow pace, and eager interrogation. You answer every small question about yourself, eyes closed and toes curled. You feel him smile against you, like a cheeky bastard.

When your thighs finally twitch around his head, from where he folded your legs over his shoulders, he slides his hand up to cover your mouth.

You cling to his arm, panting roughly against his palm as he silences you. Your orgasm washes over you silently, sparks flying behind your vision. Bucky guides you through it, sucking on your clit with gentle pressure.

When you’re finally too sensitive to continue, he presses a soft kiss to your cunt, then pulls back. You’re left gasping for breath, staring at the sparkling sky.

Bucky chuckles to himself as he sits up, carefully tying your bottoms back up. He leans back against the couch, rolling his neck as he drags your legs to rest over his lap. You shiver when you hear the man lick his lips.

“This is fucking crazy…” You huff, a lazy grin on your lips.

“I know,” he chuckles, tracing slow lines along your knee.

You swallow around your heavy tongue. “Think it’s a bad idea?”

He shrugs, his thumb rubbing over an old scar on your thigh. “I don’t really care.”

“Me neither...” You snicker.

From the moment you roll out of bed, the day starts bathed in warmth. It feels like summer as a child, unhurried, with excitement hanging around every corner.

Natasha left you at breakfast, reading on the bridge-deck with her headphones in. You didn’t mind, though, since your dad made it clear he wanted to spend the day with you.

So as the sun climbs higher in the sky, your dad drags two paddle boards down from their mounts, and begs you to follow him into the water.

You launch from the stern with a splash of enthusiasm, your bodies slick with sunscreen as you straddle the boards. The boards glide easily over the surface, and soon it’s just the two of you, standing tall, paddles dipping rhythmically into the sea.

You paddle side by side, sometimes drifting apart, then regrouping. There's light conversation and long stretches of companionable silence- just the sound of the paddles in the water and the occasional seabird overhead.

At one point your dad loses balance and topples into the depths. He doesn’t allow you to laugh for long, though, when he tips your board and forces you to fall in after him.

Later, you both take a break, lying flat on your boards, drifting under the sun, arms trailing in the cool water. You talk about old vacations, future plans, and share quiet thoughts that only seem to come out when the world slows down.

Eventually, you head back toward the yacht, feeling sun-warmed and a little tired in the best way. Bruce helps your dad load the boards back onto the ship while you go to find Nat for food.

Cold drinks and a light dinner wait on the deck- fresh fruit, grilled skewers, and icy bubbling drinks.

When you finally sink into a seat on the bridge deck, a towel hugging your body, your stomach is rolling with hunger. Loud voices chatter over one another as everyone joins the table.

You feel a warm tingle at the base of your spine when Bucky pulls out the seat beside you. He’s distracted in bickering conversation with Bruce, throwing sarcastic remarks back and forth.

You can’t even tell if he meant to sit beside you.

“Honestly, the best part of this trip is the food- our kitchen back home still smells like charcoal from the last time Y/n tried to cook.” Natasha snickers, loading up her plate.

“Okay-” You roll your eyes. “I burnt something one time and you won’t let it go.”

“I don’t know, I’m with Natty on this one,” your father grins, biting grilled shrimp from his skewer. “Remember when you torched Claire's new pans when you visited for thanksgiving last year?”

Your eyes bulge from your head. “That wasn’t even me!” You argue, looking at your stepmother. “And I apologized for that-”

Your words die on your tongue as Bucky’s deep laughter drifts beside you. The low timber of the sound makes your skin feel heated.

“Sure it wasn’t you, man?” Everett squints from the end of the table. “You always find someone else to blame when your barbeques go awry.”

Your father scoffs dramatically. You tune out of the conversation as you watch Bucky take a long swig from his beer in your peripheral. Natasha watches you two with a smug look. You suck in a sharp breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m telling you, dad’s the one that ruined those pans.” You force a laugh, stifling a shiver as Bucky lowers his drink to the table, the back of his hand nudging yours.

“Maybe the both of you can’t cook.” Bucky suggests, looking to Claire for evidence. She nods with a cheeky smile.

You barely hear it. Bucky presses his glass bottle against your knuckles. You swallow, your stomach turning as you slip your fingers around the glass. The perspiration feels slick against your palm.

You watch your father bicker with his friends as you carefully pull Bucky’s beer from his hand. You take a slow swig, your stomach turning at the absurdity of how dangerous this feels.

You swallow the cold liquid, your tongue swiping over the rim when you spill a drop. Bucky’s knee presses to yours beneath the table, the pressure steady and heavy.

Your free hand slips beneath the table to tug at his swim trunks, as a warning or plea, you don’t know. He doesn't retract his knee. In fact, he presses closer, sitting up a little further in his seat to pick at some fruit.

“If I can’t cook, it’s because of dad.” You chime in finally, setting the beer back on the glossed table.

Bucky easily plays nonchalant, barely acknowledging your fingers' gentle trail along his thigh.

Your father rolls his eyes with a groan, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”

You chuckle, finally dragging food onto your plate. You withdraw your hand and let your towel drop behind you, salt still scenting your skin.

As dinner continues, the sun finally dips just below the horizon, casting a warm afterglow across the deck. Lanterns and soft string lights flicker to life above the dining table, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of the sea mixed with grilled herbs and citrus.

Everyone’s gathered around the table on the aft deck- sun-kissed and slightly salty from the day’s swimming and laughter.

As cool air settles over the ocean, your father suggests settling in for a movie in the lounge. A murmur of agreement spreads through the table, and soon everyone’s rising. You take one last long sip from your fruity drink and stand.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom, but I’ll meet you in there,” you mutter to Nat, letting her take your towel as she heads inside.

The nearest bathroom is on the upper deck, so you jog upstairs and go about your business. After drying your hands, you barely crack the door open before someone’s pushing inside.

“What-” You stumble back, your words fizzling to silence once Bucky clicks the door shut behind him. “Oh-” you whisper, gasping quietly as his hands slide down your waist.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mutters, lifting you onto the polished counter. Your knees fall open on instinct as he steps into your space. Your head spins from his sudden actions. “Did ya have fun today?” He leans in, carefully pushing your wet hair back.

“Uh-” You gasp, barely able to catch your breath as Bucky drags a soft kiss over your lips. You sigh into him, squirming beneath needy hands. “I did-” you roll your head back against the mirror, your fingers pressing into the firm muscle of his shoulders.

He smiles, dragging his knuckles down your waist. “Mhm?” He drags you closer to the edge of the counter, pulling your body against his. You groan as Bucky presses his hips forward, the tent in his shorts dragging over your inner thigh.

“Jesus-” You whine, submitting to the rough kiss he plants on your lips.

You barely saw him throughout the day, busy swimming and indulging in the open waters. You could barely catch your breath enough to ask what had gotten him so worked up.

You pant into Bucky’s mouth, sucking his tongue into yours. Your wandering hands slide down his stomach. You slip a hand into his trunks.

“Fuck-” he groans, his forehead knocking to yours as you wrap your fingers around his erection.

“Yeah?” You swallow, swiping a drop of precum from his flushed tip.

He rolls his hips into your hand, pressing bruising kisses to your lips. “C’mon,” he pants, urging you to continue.

You greedily fist his cock, squeezing on the upstroke, his slick head leaking against your palm. He moans against your lips, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. You swallow his choked sounds as you stroke his throbbing length.

He huffs, dropping his head to your shoulder. “That’s it,” he groans, his fists white knuckling the counter. “Just like that-”

“Yeah?” You whisper, your warm breath fanning his flushed ear. You pull your hand out for a second, spit in your palm, then slip back into his pants. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his aroused whine, his cock twitching as his abs flutter.

Your spit slicked palm slides back over his erection, your thumb digging gently into his slit.

“Fuck-” he groans, his hips twitching into your fist. “We don’t have much time-”

“I know,” you gasp, fisting the swollen head of his cock. “I’ve got you, James.” You whisper, biting back a laugh when Bucky chokes.

“Shit-” he presses his nails into your hip.

He lifts his head, moaning into your mouth as he smothers you in a kiss. You nip gently at his lip, stroking your tongue over his. He swallows a choked whine as you roll your thumb over his tip. You pump his cock in quick strokes, maintaining a steady pace as his length twitches.

His stomach clenches as the coil twists tight. He groans against your tongue as he spills over your knuckles, rutting his hips into your fist. You continue to slowly stroke his twitching cock, spreading his cum over the length.

He sighs in contentment, his lashes fluttering as you guide him into familiar overstimulation. He whines against your lips, his breath hitching as he rides the wave into pain.

You only release him when his hips instinctually twitch back.

You pull your hand from his pants, your searching gaze finding his. He blinks up at you, licking over his lips as he leans back enough to see you.

“‘Did so good,” he whispers, dragging his knuckles down your cheek. You smile pleasantly, leaning back against the mirror.

“Yeah?” You wipe your hand off on the embroidered towel hanging from the wall.

“Mhm,” he pecks your jaw gently. He pulls back after a second of peppering kisses along your neck. You watch him yank the small towel down to clean himself up. “Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, dropping a gentle kiss to them.

You shiver, arching into him needly. “No problem…”

He drops the hand towel into the trash by the toilet. His calloused fingers slide around your waist, his arms locking around your back. You stare up at him silently for a moment, your urgency dying as you settle in his hold.

“What got you so worked up?” You whisper, your cheeks dusting pink as he strokes your spine with practiced ease. As if this was normal. As if this was something he could get used to.

“You look good walking away,” he mutters with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, dropping your head to his shoulder in embarrassment. “There's no way we’re not getting caught…”

“Not with that attitude,” he chuckles, lifting you off the counter. He sets you back on the ground, slowly releasing you. You sigh, pulling back from him. With only a hint of shame, you turn your back to him and wash your hands again.

He watches you fondly in the mirror, though you don’t notice, too busy trying to hide your face.

“You go out first,” he tells you, nodding to the door.

You slip out of the bathroom and make your way unsteadily towards the lounge. Everyone seems to still be settling in when you get there, arguing over snacks and movie choices.

You sink onto a sofa beside Nat, curling beneath the blanket. Natasha stares holes into the side of your head, a sly smirk twitching at her lip.

“Are you serious?” She whispers into your hair.

You roll your lip between your teeth, watching as Bucky enters the room silently. He glances at you once before settling beside Bruce on the sofa parallel to yours.

“Don’t.” You huff, embarrassed by your own depraved actions.

“Jesus, you’re barely gonna be walking by the time we dock.” She whispers, nudging you roughly.

You whip your head to the side, wordlessly telling her to shut up. She snickers at you as the movie begins.

The next night you find yourself back at Bucky’s door.

After a long day of lazing in the sun, you feel bone tired and relaxed. But that didn’t stop the itch beneath your skin, like a craving. You felt his eyes on you throughout the day, careful and watching. You felt the weight, the unspoken words.

You watched him from the sun deck, where you lounged with a sunscreen stained book, as he dived off the stern of the ship. You watched the muscles ripple in his back as he took long strokes.

You watched the water drip and collect in the dips of his muscles, streaking down his chest. You couldn’t help but feel like a dirty voyeur. But every time he looked up and caught your gaze, you knew he thrived beneath your watchful eye.

So now you stand in the hall, knocking gently at his door.

And when he finally opens the door and pulls you inside, you know you’re in for it.

“Fuck-” you sob, your spine arching off the bed as you writhe in overstimulation. You yank helplessly at dark locks of hair, your thighs twitching around Bucky’s head. “I can’t- I can’t…” You gasp, tears sliding down your cheeks.

You don’t know how much time has passed. It doesn’t matter. You’re lost in him.

Bucky groans throatily between your legs, his tongue lazily stroking over your clit. His rough hands press gently over your lower stomach, his large arms locked around your thighs.

Your nails drag roughly over his scalp. Your feet kick helplessly over the man's shoulders. “Please-” you tremble, your hips squirming against the sheets.

Bucky laughs at you, making you sob harder, as he sucks softly on your clit.

Your eyes roll back as he drags another torturous orgasm out of you. Your toes curl so tight your leg starts to cramp. You nearly choke as your lungs refuse to expand, too breathless, too lost. “Bucky please-”

Bucky finally pulls back with a slick pop, his hot breath coasting over your sensitive core as he catches his breath. “Keep still, sweetheart.”

You shudder, your eyes rolling open as you blink down at him. Your whole body tremors beneath his touch, goosebumps trailing over your skin. “Bucky-” you pant, your fingers tight around locks of his hair.

He chuckles at your loss of words, his lips dragging carefully over your inner thigh. “You’re doin’ such a good job, baby.” He whispers, his tongue soothing over old bitemarks.

You shake your head helplessly, letting it roll back against the pillows. “I can’t take any more…” Your voice is raw and dry, rough from smothering your own moans for the past several hours.

“Mm,” he hums, gently kissing your cunt. “I think you can.”

You sob, your thighs clenching in an attempt to close around his head. He pets a large hand over your stomach, the touch traveling down your hip and thigh.

His finger taps your hip, wordlessly telling you to look at him. You blink through tears, staring down at him. “Do you need to stop?” His warm blue eyes stare straight through you. “‘F it’s too much, we can stop, doll.”

You groan throatily at his easy care, at the way he so sweetly takes care of you. You let his words sink in, but you already know your answer.

You shake your head.

“Words, sweetheart.” He whispers.

Your stomach flutters painfully. “I’m okay,” your voice cracks.

Bucky smiles up at you, his large palm stroking over your stomach in appreciation. “That’s my girl,” he kisses your thigh.

You choke on an overwhelmed sob, your trembling hands tightening in his hair.

He taps your thigh slowly. “Open,” his tone is soothing, but carries a commanding undertone. You slowly let your thighs loosen up from where they clench around his shoulders. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

You nod, shakily wiping tears from your cheek.

“Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you choke.

Bucky smirks and lowers his head once more, his tongue making slow work of circling your cunt, before dipping inside. You make a broken sound as your walls flutter around him, your stomach clenching pitifully.

Your vision blurs as you obediently watch him, tears slipping down your cheeks when he looks up to meet your gaze. He smirks against your pussy, his lips wrapping around your clit to gently suck.

Your spine arches as your body begs for reprieve, but you know there’s no end in sight.

Bucky’s determined to drag you through orgasm after orgasm, his tongue dragging lazily through your sensitive folds.

He seems at home, happily indulging in you, listening to your broken sounds. He grinds his aching cock into the mattress, his hips rolling in slow circles as rolls his tongue over your cunt.

You lose yourself in the feeling, your heels dig into his back, his lips drag sloppy kisses over your core.

You’ve never felt this way before. So worshiped. So devoured. You’ve never felt so helpless to pleasure.

But Bucky makes you feel it. He guides you through it. He takes you apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left. Nothing but your stuttering breath and trembling body.

And to your deep shock, he seems just as lost as you. His fingers press bruises into your skin as he clings to you. Rough, throaty sounds rumble in his chest, spilling out between slow licks. His stubble scrapes deliciously against your sensitive flesh, sharp and slick at the same time.

You watch him through blurry vision, your jaw loose as you whimper. You know you need to be quiet. You know you have to keep this secret. But you just can’t.

You’re aching, trembling, and so deeply overwhelmed.

It’s the kind of sensitivity that hurts and throbs but you just can’t stop.

Even when your body is screaming at you that you can’t go on. You make room for it, because you’ve never felt anything like this.

You’ve never felt so fucking alive.

As Bucky guides you through another quivering orgasm, you start to see stars spot your vision. Bucky finally pulls back with a slick smack of his lips- the sound makes tears slide down your cheeks. From humiliation or arousal, you don’t know.

Bucky slowly climbs up your body, caging you in. You shudder when he leans down, dragging his tongue over your cheek to lick up your tears. You let him, your eyes rolling back as you sigh.

“You did so well, sweet girl,” he whispers, peppering gentle kisses to the curve of your cheek bone. His strong hands stroke up your outer thighs in a comforting motion. “You always take it so well for me, don’t you?”

You whine, tilting your head up to kiss him. He smiled against your lips, pulling back just slightly.

“I asked you something,” he whispers.

You shiver and nod your head. “Yeah- yes…” your voice cracks, dry and rough.

He grins, finally capturing your lips in a messy kiss. You moan quietly, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Bucky presses his hips forward, his cock dragging over your slick center. You gasp, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “If you’re too tired, I can take care of myself,” he mutters, his knuckles tracing lines down your jaw.

You blink, dumbfounded. “That was all foreplay?”

Bucky snickers silently at the look on your face. “Mhm,” he pecks a kiss to your drying tear streaks. “Why don’t you just lay back and watch? Hm? I don’t wanna overwork you,” his pecks your jaw.

You shake your head stubbornly, your tongue swiping over your dry lips. He pulls back to look at you, brow raised. “I-I want to.” You pant, sucking in thin gasps. Your trembling legs slowly wrap around his waist, your ankles locking. “I wanna take care of you too.”

Bucky groans shamelessly, his head dropping to your shoulder. You stroke your nails down his spine, trying to gather yourself. You feel like jelly. You feel broken. You feel healed.

You feel so good, you could pass out.

Cold blue moonlight streams from the window, flickering against the black ocean. Bucky plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, and when he raises his head, the light makes his eyes shine silver.

“Okay,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Just lay back, baby,” his lips curl in a familiar smile. “I’ll make you feel good.”

And he makes good on his promise.

He always does.

When he finally sinks into you, his hips pressed to yours, you struggle to breathe. You barely hold back overwhelmed tears as he gently grinds into you.

Bucky holds you close, almost intimately, as his arms wrap around you. He pins you in place, his hands petting you as he silently rolls his hips into yours.

You make a punch out little sound when his cock pulls out, then sinks back in. Bucky shushes you, cooing as he pets your hair.

After that, everything becomes fuzzy. Blurry. A mess of tears and choked off moans, and delicious pleasure.

The next morning, Bucky wakes first.

He curls deeper around your body, clinging to your warmth as the pesky sunlight blinds him. He sighs heavily into your shoulder, already feeling the ache from last night sinking into his bones.

He buries his face a little deeper in your hair, smelling the salt that lingers.

He can’t help but smile to himself when you huff in your sleep.

Bucky eventually pulls back and rolls out of bed, stretching out his sore muscles. He tugs the sheets back over you, where you’re curled up in his bed.

When he checks the time, it’s nearly 11am.

He rakes his hair back and tugs something on. He’s quiet as he gets ready, letting you sleep. When he steps into the hall, he can already smell breakfast.

Climbing up to the deck, barefoot and still a little groggy, he’s met with a breeze that smells of salt and coffee. The sky is wide and impossibly blue, the ocean calm, stretching out like a silk sheet all around him. Someone’s already laid out breakfast on the table under the shade of the upper deck.

The food has lost its warmth by now, but he still builds up a hefty plate.

The coffee is strong and earthy, still steaming in its carafe, and someone’s poured fresh orange juice into thick glasses beaded with condensation.

The others are lounging nearby, barefoot, sun-kissed, quiet in that contented, slow-morning kind of way. A few pages of a discarded book flutter in the breeze. The water laps gently at the hull.

“Finally, you’re up-” your father huffs as he approaches Bucky, his hands waving. “The girls are still asleep,” he complains, “but I want to go diving.”

Bucky squints up at him, chuckling as he sips on his warm coffee. “Better ask Everette. I’m goin’ back to bed,” he mutters, already turning his back.

Your father groans at him, shaking his fist. “You have the entire ocean around you, and you’re choosing to sleep.”

“Mhm,” Bucky grins, already moving down the steps. “What can I say, these are nice beds.” He grins.

He listens to your father grumble behind him as he descends the stairs. He knows your dad’s a little right, that he’s wasting time indoors when he could be swimming.

But he’d rather go back to his room, where he’ll find you bathed in the warmth of his sheets.

He slips back into the room, shutting the door with a soft click. He finds you still out cold, curled around a pillow, your hair scattered and knotted. He sets the plate of foot on the nightstand, then crouches at your bedside.

He tilts his head at you, his fingers carefully brushing locks of tangled hair from your face. Your brows pinch together as you huff, pressing your face into the pillow. He carefully strokes your cheek, his thumb tapping against your chin.

Your eyes twitch open, squinting up at him.

“Morning,” he whispers.

He watches the moment recognition sparks, the moment your cheeks dust a soft pink. “Hey,” you swallow, your voice coming out rough.

“Brought breakfast,” he nods to the plate. “You hungry?”

You nod, the sheets ruffle against your cheek. Bucky’s lips twitch in a fond smile. He pulls his hand back and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. You roll back to make room for him, dragging the sheets with you.

You groan quietly, your body aching as you stretch. “Fuck…”

“Sore?” He smirks, grabbing his coffee.

You roll your eyes, pushing up to sit. Your lower back twinges, making you shiver. “You’re too smug,” you croak. Bucky holds his mug out to you, letting you take it. You take a slow sip, sighing as the warm liquid soothes its way down your throat.

Bucky shrugs, taking a dramatic bite of bacon. “Maybe.”

You chuckle, leaning closer to pick at the plate. “What time is it?” You pop a chunk of scrambled egg in your mouth.

Bucky glanced down at his phone. “11:27pm.” He reads. “Your friend’s still asleep, your dad thinks you're still passed out with her.”

You nod, stealing the bacon from his fingers. “She’s probably up, just covering for me. My dad won’t try to go and wake me up if he thinks she’s sleeping too.”

Bucky hums in understanding, tugging his mug of coffee from where it sat between your knees. “How sweet,” he smiles.

You lower your head, hiding your blush as you chew a square of fruit. “Mhm.”

Bucky watches you with a tilted head, aware of the effect he has on you. “Do you feel okay? Anything hurt?” His kind blue eyes trail down your body, still mostly hidden by the sheet.

“I’m fine,” you shake your head. “Sore, definitely, but fine.” You huff, rolling your shoulders. “The good kind of sore.”

He smiles, his crows feet curling at the corners of his eyes. “Mkay,” he mutters, reaching out to tuck your knotted hair behind your ear.

You gulp, your gaze flickering back down to the plate. Oddly enough, the sex is what comes easy to you. All the parts in between, the care, the conversations, the sweet way he handles you, that's what makes you nervous. What catches you off guard.

You still have no idea what you're doing.

“Is my dad expecting you- I don’t want him to-”

“It’s fine, I told him I was going back to bed.” He cuts you off, easily shrugging. He pushes the coffee back into your hand as he lifts off the bed. “We have time.”

You watch him move over to his pile of clothes on the small sofa. He pulls out a black shirt and tosses it to the mattress. He turns his back, as if wordlessly telling you to put it on. You obey, your stomach twisting in knots as you tug it over your head. When you pop your head through, you find your panties dangling from Bucky’s fingers.

Your face heats as you snatch them quickly. He snickers, his head still turned.

“So you’re making excuses to spend more time with me?” You attempt to tease him.

“Mhm,” Bucky turns back to face you, flopping onto the bed once you’re dressed. “Absolutely.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” You groan, wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think my body can take any more.”

He grins, the grays in his facial hair shadowed by his smile lines. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll leave you be.” He picks a chunk of watermelon from the plate. “For now.”

You use the mug of coffee to hide your blushing grin. “I think I’ve gotten laid more in this past week than I have in my entire life.”

Bucky laughs, wiping a hand down his face. “Jesus,” he groans, his free hand dropping to your bare ankle. “I’ll take that as a good thing.”

“Oh, for sure.” You lift a brow at him. “Not to feed your ego, or anything, but I don’t regret a thing.”

His cheeky grin softens slightly. “Good.”

You stare at him for a moment, your stomach fluttering with nervous butterflies. “So…” you clear your throat. “Two more days until we dock.” You roll your cheek between your teeth. “What now?”

Bucky rolls his head to the side, his knuckles sweeping up and down your bare leg. “Well, we have options.”

“Do tell,” you sip at the coffee.

Bucky rudely plucks the mug from your hand and sets it on the nightstand. You frown softly, your gaze finding his. He leans closer, looming into your space. “We could keep seeing each other,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours in a gentle kiss.

You smile into it, a giddy feeling swirling in your veins.

He slowly pulls back, his fingertips tracing a slow line down your cheek. “Or we could go our separate ways.” He hums, bright blue eyes flickering to yours. “What do you want?”

You gulp, your fists curling in the large shirt you wore. “Do you want to keep seeing me?”

He smiles, sweet and warm. “Of course I do, doll.” His words make you want to slap your hands over your face and giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Yeah?”

His lip rolls between his teeth, failing to suppress his smile. “Mhm.”

“Me too,” you confess, subconsciously leaning forward.

“Good,” he cups your cheek in his large hand. He pulls you into him, capturing your lips in a soft, but possessive kiss. You sigh into him, allowing him to guide you with a hand on your neck.

He pulls back slowly, leaving only a few inches between you.

“When we get home, I wanna take you out.” He mutters, his calloused fingers dragging down your jaw. You shiver. “For real.”

“Really?” You whisper, disbelief and nerves mixing together in your stomach.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “‘Wanna see you all dressed up. Take you to dinner.” He kisses your jaw. “Fuck you in my bed,” his warm breath ghosts over your skin.

You swallow, your lashes fluttering shut. “Okay…”

He smiles, pecking your lips. “Okay.”

So for the first time in your life, you found yourself wishing for vacation to be over.

A/N: Hi....ahaha...just utter filth. I hope you guys like it, I had a lot of fun writing this version of Bucky. I love older man Bucky. Anyways, requests are always open. Comment and let me know what you think!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT IN ANYWAY.

If you have no age in your bio and you comment or message me, I WILL BLOCK YOU.

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nobitchs-world · 10 months ago

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Me: I love horror movie slashers

My scary ass if I ever saw them:

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dawdl-ing · 2 months ago

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when you find out your stick-up-his-ass boss was in a whole ass BAND

#I will prob repost a more polished picture but eh #my art #the magnus archives #tma podcast #tma #tmapg #oc: amelia carter-briggs #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #the mechanisms

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bethsvrse · 1 year ago

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when I find a brilliant, jaw dropping, amazing x reader fic but suddenly I’ve been given a first name, last name, hair colour and eye colour

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ailoda · 6 months ago

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updated: 04.06.25

ᯓ★ smut

Delirium (✘): stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you. - avenger!reader (@flowersforbucky) (warning: sex pollen, i.e., dub-con, explicit verbal consent prior)

Special Girl (❤❅✘✧): being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend. @kinanabinks) (warning: mentions of neglectful childhood)

Scary? My God, You're Divine (❤✘): your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? - mob!au (@sinner-as-saint)

Sting (✘): TattooArtist!Bucky praising you during a session. (@adrinktostopyourthirst)

↪︎ Fling (✘): your tattoo artist left you hanging and you’re fed up enough to come and collect his excuse. (part two)

Blurred Lines (❤❅✘✧): when choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you. (@ellemj)

Closer (✘): you’d never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didn’t feel close enough. (@tom-holland-parker)

Water Proof (✘): Bucky Barnes is pretty sure that his arm is water proof. He'd been in water with it before. Turns out his arm can handle water, but not p*ssy juice. (@vivwritesfics)

Book Boyfriend (✘): Bucky is better than any book boyfriend. You'll prove it to him. (@navybrat817)

In Your Arms I'm Born Again (❤✘): you want to find out exactly how many times is too many times for the super soldier. (@bonky-n-steeb)

What Are Friends For (✘): when you threaten to swear off men for good after your last bad date, your neighbour and friend offers to help change your mind. (@gogolucky13)

Down Bad (✘): Bucky using his metal hand as a vibrator. (@flowersforbucky)

I Hate You (✘): after ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with. (@ellemj)

Play Pretend (✘): when Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. (@wkemeup) (warning: sex pollen trope, i.e., dub-con)

A Quiet Escape (✘): during a holiday stay at Clint Barton’s home, you’ve been desperately trying to steal a moment alone with Bucky—your super-soldier boyfriend—but the Avengers are constantly interrupting. Between Clint’s kids, Steve’s “bromantic” grocery runs, and Nat pulling Bucky into sparring sessions, it feels like you’re constantly fighting for his attention. Frustration finally boils over when you confront Bucky about your lack of privacy, only to discover he’s just as eager for some alone time as you are - and willing to do anything to get it. (@thebarneschronicles)

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey (✘): when Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious? (@thevillainswhore)

Caught Myself A Cute Little Doll (✘): the Winter Soldier caught himself a cute little doll. (@sergeantbarnessdoll)

Pretty Little Thing (✘): your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it’s impossible to avoid serving him for the first time. (@marvelouslizzie)

Now or Never (✘): based off the prompts "You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart." (@fandoms-writings)

Touch Starved (✘): this was inspired by a tweet and his gif I saw on twitter. You accidentally walk in on Bucky touching himself when he thinks he is alone. Turns out he is thinking about you. (@mrsbuckybarnes1917)

I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend (❅✘): Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. (@brunchable)

↪︎ Part Two (❤✘): it's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him.

All's Well That Ends Well To End Up With You (❤✘): Bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together. (@flowersforbucky)

Stay For A Fortnight (✘): “yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.” (@thyme-in-a-bubble)

Devil's In The Backseat (✘): a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected, or getting fucked in front of a mirror. (@flowersforbucky)

Sesame & The Sweetheart (❤✘): you've been on a few dates with Bucky now, and the sexual tension is at an all-time high. After another cute date, you realize you can't keep your hands off him for very much longer. (@kinanabinks)

Heartwood (❤✘): after Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship. - lumberjack!bucky (@vunblr)

New Tricks (❤✘): after your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him. Instead, what unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin. (@thevillainswhore)

Computer Chair Smut (❅✘): after weeks of arguing, you thought your relationship with Bucky was near the end. That was until you held something positive in your hand. (@crowsofdarkness)

Restraint (✘): you rush to Bucky's side when he's hit with a a super serum booster out in the field so that you can...take care...of him. (@mrs-elsie-barnes) (warning: sex-pollen trope (ish), i.e., dub-con)

Desperate Measures (✘): when you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer. (@simplyholl) (warning: sex-pollen trope, i.e., dub-con)

Beach Day (✘): beach day with some of the Avengers turns into a little private time with Bucky. (@crowsofdarkness)

In The Night (✘): you're finding it difficult to sleep in your new home. Bucky knows how to fix it. (@neptunecaptains)

Enlivened Mornings (❤✘): consensual free-use pass + corruption kink. (@mercurial-chuckles)

The Sunday Regular (✘): you’re a waitress working at some shitty run-down diner in the middle of nowhere. and every sunday you see the same person at the same time walk through the doors. the pair of you forming a bond over time. though today, he doesn’t at his usual time and you begin to worry that you’ll have to wait another week to see him. the regular then finds out some information about you that he didn’t wish to know, and in turn, information you didn’t wish to share. (@little-miss-dilf-lover)

new! Late (❤✘): Bucky has recently moved in with you and is turning your strict morning routine upside down, making you constantly late because he’s too tempting in the mornings, wearing that sleepy grin, stealing your toothbrush, and cuddling you back into bed every time you try to get up. (@whitedarkmoonflower)

new! It's Nice To Have A Friend (✘): you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better. (@flowersforbucky)

new! This is (Not) Fine (❅✘✧): personal assistant rules: don’t crush on bucky barnes. definitely don’t misinterpret a flower purchase and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator. (@artficlly)

new! A Night from the Past (✘): you take bucky to 40s’ themed bar. (@barnesonly)

new! Still Yours (❅✘✧): bucky lets his relationship slip into the background for the sake of duty and public image. but when the distance starts to break them, he realizes he’ll do anything to fight for the love he almost lost. (@danysdaughter) (warning: mentions of mental health/trauma)

new! Touch-Starved (❤✘): safe house, during a storm. after a long mission, you’re stuck sharing a room with bucky. you’ve always assumed he keeps his distance because of his past. but when the storm knocks out the power and you curl up on the couch, cold and shivering, he finally opens up — and his hands, calloused and careful, don’t stop at comfort. (@lowrisemiller)

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shortnspidey · 2 months ago

Text

THE VOID

Bucky Barnes X Fem!Stark!reader || WC: 5.4K

SUMMARY: What was supposed to be a quiet family weekend getaway at the Stark cabin is quickly interrupted by New York City being terrorized once more!

WARNINGS: Thunderbolts* spoilers! Angst, slight fluff, hurt-comfort, non-sexual nudity, talks of past trauma & HYDRA PTSD

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! This was meant to be a short drabble but I couldn't help myself! It's safe to say Thunderbolts* is my new Marvel comfort movie! I hope I did this one-shot justice since we didn't get to see much of Bucky during the movie! 🫶🏻

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

➩ bucky barnes masterlist

As the soft glow of morning sunlight filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting warm streaks across the hardwood floor. Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the familiar surroundings, the soft lavender hue of the walls, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air, and the peaceful silence broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird outside.

A small sleepy smile tugged at your lips as your gaze settled on the delightful chaos around you, a mountain of stuffed animals piled high near the window, polaroid pictures taped to the dresser mirror, each one a tiny fragment of a life well-lived and well-loved. Shifting to your side with a sleepy sigh, you expected to find the comforting bulk of your super-soldier fiancé beside you. His warmth, his steady breathing, maybe even the soft snore he always denied having.

But instead, a mop of tousled brown hair and a small frame tucked under a fortress of blankets greeted you. Morgan. Your not-so-little sister, who had clearly claimed the entire bed as her own sometime during the night. You let out a quiet chuckle, realizing you were perched on the very edge of the mattress, less than an inch from tumbling onto the floor. The covers had all migrated to her side, cocooned around her. She was somehow an even worse bed hog than Bucky, and that was saying something.

Even Alpine, with all her feline entitlement, hadn't managed to steal this much space. Your thoughts were interrupted as Morgan stirred, her little nose wrinkling adorably in protest against the invading daylight. She nestled even closer into your side, seeking warmth and refuge. "Morning, sunshine!" You chirped with faux cheeriness, knowing exactly what kind of reaction you'd get. Predictably, the nine-year-old groaned, burying her face deeper into your ribs with a dramatic sigh that made you smile even wider.

Definitely not a morning person, another undeniable Stark trait. "Morgan," You sing-songed, dragging her name out teasingly. “Time to wake up!” She grumbled in protest, clearly trying to lull herself back to sleep or at least tune you out. A soft giggle escaped you as you gently poked her side. “The only way I’m waking up is if you make me breakfast.” Morgan grumbled, her voice muffled against your side. You gave a mock gasp, clutching your chest dramatically.

“Demanding.” You teased, though your tone was soft as you reached out, brushing a few strands of her tangled hair away from her face. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary. Her skin was still warm from sleep, and for a moment, you just took in how small she still was, despite her growing stubborn streak and increasingly bold opinions. “How about I make you breakfast,” You offered, lifting your brows with a knowing smile, “and I’ll even let you sneak a juice pop before Mom makes us lunch?”

Her face twitched, trying to stay serious, trying not to give in to your irresistible offer, but you saw the small smile forming at the corner of her lips. “Promise?” She asked, lifting her head slightly and giving you those big, brown, soul-piercing eyes that always reminded you a little too much of your dad. You nodded, solemnly holding out your pinky. “Pinky promise,” You declared, your voice dropping to a whisper like it was sacred and in a way, it was.

Morgan didn’t hand out trust easily, but a pinky promise? That was ironclad. She hooked her little finger around yours, her smile breaking fully now. “Deal!” You grinned and pressed another kiss to her forehead, this one quick and full of affection, before leaning over to grab your phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up with a flurry of notifications, texts, emails, a missed call from Harley, but your thumb moved instinctively to the one name that always made your chest tighten in the best way. The most recent message read:

Bucky 🖤: Made it to the Capitol in one piece. Miss you already, doll. Tell Morgan I’m bringing her that thing we talked about.

You smiled at the screen, thumbs flying across the keyboard as you typed back a quick “I love you, stay safe.” Before you could even lock your phone, Morgan was peering over your shoulder. “Why couldn’t Bucky come?” She asked, her voice softer now, her fingers still tangled in the edge of your sleep shirt. You arched a brow, turning to face her with a mock pout. “Am I not enough for you anymore?” Morgan rolled her eyes with a giggle, but her cheeks flushed pink.

“You know what I mean.” She grinned. It always amazed you how quickly Bucky had wormed his way into her heart, how naturally he’d settled into the role of her protector, bedtime storyteller, and co-conspirator in every bit mischief she could dream up. And truthfully, you loved watching the two of them together, even when you pretended to be jealous. “Believe me, sweetheart, he wanted to,” You reassured brushing her hair back again as she snuggled close once more. “But he’s just a little busy now that he has Congressman duties.” Morgan huffed.

“You should’ve brought Alpine at least.” You laughed, ruffling her hair. “If we let that spoiled cat in this bed, there wouldn’t be room for either of us. Plus, she’d steal your juice pop.” That earned a giggle from her. “C’mon,” You coaxed, stretching your arms and sitting up fully. “Let’s go make some waffles. With chocolate chips. Maybe even whipped cream, if you swear not to tell Mom.” She perked up instantly, eyes gleaming. “You got yourself a deal!” This kid was definitely going to be the death of you.

After scarfing down at least a dozen waffles between you and Morgan, each one stacked precariously with whipped cream, chocolate chips, and just a hint of syrup for good measure you both made sure to clean the flour battlefield you’d left behind. The kitchen still smelled like vanilla and melted chocolate, but the counters were wiped, dishes stacked, and evidence buried, for the most part. Just in time too, as Pepper raised an eyebrow when she entered but said nothing.

Only offering a suspicious glance toward the empty whipped cream can in the trash. With the scent of breakfast still clinging to your pajamas and Morgan cradling a warm cup of cocoa, the three of you curled up on the couch for your weekend ritual. Blankets, mismatched socks, and the faint crackle of old movie magic filled the living room. The familiar sounds of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone played in the background, Morgan mouthing lines under her breath, completely absorbed in the scene.

And then, it happened.

The screen glitched, colors flickering unnaturally before the film feed abruptly cut to a flashing Breaking News banner. Static crackled. Then came the footage. A live aerial shot of Manhattan, swallowed by what looked like a creeping black fog, only it wasn’t fog. It slithered like it was alive, climbing buildings, flooding streets, consuming everything in its path. Helicopters struggled to keep up with the growing shadow that rolled through downtown like a tidal wave of nightmares.

Your blood ran cold. A surge of déjà vu punched through your gut, memories of Thanos, of the Snap, of losing everything for a single moment in time. But this wasn’t dust. This was something else, something darker. Morgan leaned forward, her cocoa forgotten, and even Pepper tensed, lips pressed into a thin, worried line. The footage zoomed in closer. Through the billowing obsidian mass, faint shapes flickered, terrified civilians, abandoned cars and buildings.

The once-iconic Avengers Tower, half-swallowed and collapsing in on itself, like some monument to forgotten glory. And at the center of it, looming like a shadow torn from nightmares, stood a shadowy figure. He wasn’t entirely solid, more like a dark silhouette. With every movement, people vanished. Your hand trembled as you reached for your phone, a cold sweat already forming at the back of your neck. You didn’t even remember dialing, your thumb working on autopilot.

“Pick up. Pick up.” You whispered, heart hammering against your ribs, anxiety rising like bile. One ring. Two. Three, then static. Faint, fragmented screams filtered through. Car alarms. Crumbling stone. You heard staggering breath, sharp and uneven. “Bucky? Are you there?” You asked, voice cracking, eyes fixed on the chaos on the screen. A ragged exhale echoed on the line. Then voices, quick, panicked. Civilians? You couldn’t tell. “Bucky, please tell me you’re not in that mess.” You begged, voice fraying at the edges.

You weren’t even sure if he could hear you. A pause. Then finally, his voice, raw and distant. “I wish I could, doll.” Your breath hitched. “I’m sorry.” He added. Those two words carried more weight than you could bear. Every instinct in you screamed to fight, to argue, but your voice didn’t come. Not even a whisper. “Doll, I—” And then, the call dropped. Your phone slid from your hand and landed on the couch cushion beside you with a thud. Your chest was tight, lungs refusing to work properly. Noticing the shift in your demeanor, Morgan instantly wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Is Bucky okay?” She whispered, burying her face into your side. You pulled her close, holding her like she was the only anchor in the storm. “I’m sure he is, sweetheart,” You reassured softly, kissing the top of her head. “He’s strong and brave.” But even you couldn’t tell if you were trying to reassure her or convince yourself. You looked up. Pepper had already stood, face pale but composed. She met your eyes, her strength unwavering even now. “Mom—”

“I know,” She mumbled quickly, cutting you off. Her voice was gentle, but there was an iron edge beneath it, a quiet strength born from too many nights spent watching the man she loved walk into war zones with nothing but conviction and an arc reactor. Pepper Potts wasn’t a stranger to sacrifice, and now, neither were you. “Go.” You hesitated, guilt gnawing at your gut. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.” She added, her hand closing tightly around yours.

You nodded, trying to keep your face neutral even as your stomach churned. You turned toward Morgan, who stood silently by the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest like it was a lifeline. “Morgie,” You called softly, crouching down to her level as her tear-filled eyes locked on yours. “He’ll be okay. We both will. Stay here with Mom, alright? I’ll call you as soon as I find Bucky. I promise.” You extended your pinky once more. This promise felt heavier than all the others.

“Okay.” She whispered, her voice cracking as she surrendered to your embrace, small arms wrapping tightly around your neck. You held her close, kissed her temple, then leaned into her ear. “I love you, kiddo.” You breathed, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat. You felt her nod against your shoulder, and it shattered something inside you. With that, you quickly got dressed, grabbed your car keys and drove as fast as the speed limit allowed you into the void that was now New York City.

As you made your way into the city, weaving recklessly through the traffic, your hands clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Horns blared, lights flashed, but none of it registered fully, you were running on instinct and adrenaline. You fumbled for your phone at a red light, trying once again to ping Bucky’s location. Nothing. The screen flashed back the same message, unable to locate device.

You swore under your breath, the sickening realization hitting you like a punch to the gut, his phone must’ve been destroyed during all the chaos. There was no other choice. Without any clue where he might be, you had to go back to the apartment. Your chest ached with the weight of uncertainty, but through it all, a stubborn flicker of belief remained, he’d make it home to you. He had to. The moment your key turned in the lock and the door creaked open, the silence inside greeted you.

You didn’t need to call out to know, he wasn’t there. The emptiness clung to the walls, thick and oppressive, and did absolutely nothing to soothe the storm of fear brewing inside you. You closed the door quietly behind you, letting your forehead rest against it for a beat too long, before turning to scan the room with hopeful eyes. Then, a soft meow echoed from around the corner. “Alpine,” You breathed out, your voice cracking slightly with relief. The snowy white cat padded into view, her tail high as she trotted toward you, clearly happy to see you home.

You knelt down immediately, scooping her into your arms and pressing her warm body close to your chest. She purred against you, a soft, steady vibration that grounded you just enough to keep from unraveling completely. “Hi, sweet girl.” You murmured, your voice gentle as you carried her to the couch. You sank into the cushions, Alpine nestled securely in your lap, and stared out the window at the glowing city beyond. Every instinct in you screamed to go back out there.

To search every alley, every rooftop, every shadow, but instead, you sat still. Holding on to hope like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. After what felt like an eternity of pacing in the kitchen, organizing things that didn’t need organizing, and switching between news broadcasts that offered very little comfort and a phone that refused to light up with his name, you were unraveling thread by thread. Each second stretched, heavy and tense, your breath shallow. And then, you heard it. The familiar jangle of the doorknob.

Your heart skipped a beat, then thundered, and as the door creaked open, you let out a breath that felt like it came from somewhere deep in your soul. Your muscles, locked in anxious tension, began to loosen as you rose quickly from the couch. But the moment you turned the corner and saw him, really saw him all of that fragile relief shattered and the fear came crashing back in. There he was. Dressed in his signature all-black, the fabric of his clothes torn in various places.

Revealing angry red gashes and violet bruises beneath. His broad shoulders were pulled back in a rigid posture. His long hair was disheveled, sticking to his forehead and brushing his jawline, and his face, God, his handsome face was a map of pain. Scratches lined his cheekbones, one temple split and still weeping. His knuckles were bruised, skin split. And still, he didn’t bother to close the door behind him. His cerulean blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, time stood still. He closed them slowly, like the sight of you was too much to bear all at once.

Relief, exhaustion, maybe even guilt, it passed across his face like clouds across a stormy sky. “James.” The name left your lips sharp and clipped, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. There was frustration in your voice, more than that, there was hurt. At the sound of his given name, his eyes opened again, more alert, more present. He knew exactly what it meant when you used it like that. But he also knew this wasn’t about being in trouble. Not really. Cautiously, he took a step forward, hand raised, vibranium fingers trembling just enough to betray the storm inside him.

He reached for your arm, bracing for the rejection he was sure he deserved. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. When his palm met your sleeve and you stayed rooted to the spot, something in him broke loose. He took another step, his other hand rising to gently uncross your arms, and you let him. You didn’t meet his eyes, not yet, but you didn’t resist his touch either. He pulled your body into his slowly, grounding you with the firm steadiness of both flesh and metal, his touch familiar, grounding. You looked away, jaw tight, holding back tears or words, you weren’t even sure which.

He exhaled slowly, then lifted a hand to your face, calloused fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he tilted your head up. You didn’t want to look at him because if you did, you’d lose what little composure you had left. Still, you let him tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your temple as he searched your face like it held the only truth left in the world. Your eyes met again, and for a heartbeat, the silence between you was louder than anything either of you could say. Then finally, you broke it, your voice low and rough around the edges.

“You’re still in trouble.” You grumbled, trying for stern but falling short, the corners of your mouth betraying you with the tiniest quiver. “I know, doll,” He murmured, his voice gravelly and soft in that way only reserved for you. “I know.” He rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as it ghosted over your skin. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness yet. He just needed this. You. “Just let me hold you.” He whispered, more of a plea than command.

And without another word, you let him.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, each breath shaky, uneven. His arms were tight around you now, no longer tentative. Flesh and vibranium wrapped fully around your waist, holding on like if he let go, everything would collapse. And maybe it would. You didn’t want to test that theory. He smelled like smoke and the faintest trace of blood, but underneath all that, you still found him. That scent you’d come to associate with home.

“Hey,” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing your hair as he spoke. “I’m here. I’m okay.” You pulled back slightly at that, brows furrowing. “You’re not okay, Buck,” you scoffed softly, your hands coming up to cradle his scruffy cheeks. “You’re clearly hurt and you’re bleeding.” You swallowed hard as your thumbs traced the edges of a fresh cut along his jaw. “You scared the hell out of me.” His eyes closed again, jaw clenching as he leaned into your touch. You blinked quickly, fighting the sting in your eyes, but he saw it anyway.

Without hesitation, Bucky leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, this time more firmly, grounding himself in the contact. Then, slowly, deliberately his lips brushed yours. It wasn’t a kiss full of hunger or urgency. It was soft yet purposeful. You melted into it instantly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his hands cupped your jaw, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. His lips trembled against yours, not from fear but from sheer, overwhelming feeling. He kissed you like he’d been afraid he wouldn’t get the chance.

Like this kiss was a thank you, an apology, and a promise all in one. When you finally parted, he lingered, his nose brushing against yours, eyes searching yours with that soft, open ache that always made you want to protect him, even when strongly believed that he was the one built to protect you. You exhaled shakily, resting your hands over his heart. In that moment, no words needed to be shared. You simply pulled him close, this time wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder.

After a beat, your voice now more steadier broke the silence. "I hope you know you owe Morgan a call, she was pretty shaken after what she saw on the news." Bucky let out a long breath, one hand ghosting up your back in an absent, soothing motion. "Hopefully the bear plush I brought all the way back from DC will be enough for her to forgive me." Your brow lifted, eyes narrowing slightly as amusement flickered in your voice. "Seriously, Bucky. Morgan has enough stuffed animals to fill an entire daycare."

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop spoiling her," He offered a small shrug, the corner of his mouth quirking just enough to chase away some of the tension. "We should call." You nodded slowly, lifting your head from his shoulder without pulling away completely, your arms still draped around him in a gentle tether. "We should," You murmured in agreement. Your gaze swept over him, taking in the grime, the torn edges of his clothes, and the blood smeared along his jaw. "Might want to clean yourself up first."

Your fingers reached up, brushing lightly over the blood smeared on his cheekbone. The touch wasn’t firm, just the barest sweep of skin against skin, but it carried so much more than it seemed to. In that single gesture, you offered reassurance, a silent apology for whatever pain he endured, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone. He leaned into the touch with a subtle, almost imperceptible sigh, his eyes fluttering closed for just a beat too long. Like the warmth of your hand was more healing than anything could ever be.

His lashes lifted slowly, gaze locking with yours. The blue of his eyes, normally sharp and vigilant, had softened into something almost vulnerable. “Join me?” Just two words. So simple, but they cracked something open inside you. The sheer vulnerability behind them wrapped in a quiet plea and a need for closeness he rarely voiced ever made your throat tighten. You didn’t trust your voice to hold steady, so you simply nodded, the motion small but immediate.

His expression didn’t shift much, but you saw the way his shoulders eased, just slightly. He leaned in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a moment, his lips resting against your skin like he was afraid letting go too soon might shatter whatever peace had settled between you. Then, he stepped back, not far, just enough to reach for your hand. His fingers found yours with an easy familiarity, holding on like you were his lifeline. And without a word, he turned, guiding you slowly toward the bathroom down the hall the space you shared.

As you stepped into the space, a wave of protectiveness surged through you, catching you off guard with its intensity. It was more than just concern, it was an aching need to reassure him, to make it unmistakably clear that he was safe and loved. He stood quietly, as if waiting for something he didn’t quite know how to ask for. Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of his t-shirt, eyes flicking up to meet his, searching for any flicker of hesitation. The fabric was worn, soft beneath your touch, and you tugged gently, more a question than a motion.

His response was wordless but immediate, lifting his arms and granting you silent permission. You peeled the shirt upward, revealing inch by inch of scarred, bruised skin that made your heart twist. A sharp, quiet gasp escaped your lips as the damage came into view faint scrapes, livid bruises blossoming in purples and yellows, and the ever-present, jarring contrast where metal fused into flesh. You knew the serum would eventually do its work, knitting tissue and dulling pain, but logic didn’t stop the worry that clawed its way up your throat.

You leaned in, unable to keep the distance between you. Your hand wrapped around his warm, solid bicep, drawing him gently closer. He didn’t resist. Your lips brushed against the harsh line where his metal shoulder met skin, a place that too often bore the weight of his guilt and silence. You pressed a soft kiss there, then another, scattering them along his shoulder blade, the curve of his jaw, and finally to the corner of his mouth. Each kiss was a silent whisper: I love you. You’re not alone.

His breath caught, chest rising sharply, and in the next heartbeat, his lips found yours. The kiss was deep, unhurried, the kind that said everything neither of you could quite put into words. When he finally pulled away, it was only to mirror your earlier gesture, his hands slipping under your oversized knit sweater and lifting it with reverent care. It joined his shirt in a quiet heap on the floor. “I love you so much, Y/N.” He murmured against your mouth, the words rough and tender all at once.

What followed felt timeless, a slow shedding of barriers, both cloth and emotional, until you were stripped bare, wrapped in warmth and each other. Garments fell away between stolen kisses and whispered reassurances. Hands traced the map of each other’s bodies like a prayer, gentle and certain, until there was nothing between you but skin and steam. At one point, his fingers intertwined with yours, he brought your left hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Then pausing, kissing the delicate glint of the engagement ring that rested there. His eyes met yours, soft and unguarded, and it said more than any vow ever could. Under the cascade of the shower, he held you close. You could feel the tension leaving his frame as your fingers threaded through his damp hair, massaging the soap in gentle circles. You washed away the remnants of blood and sweat, each pass of your hands careful not to press too hard against his bruises. Then it was his turn. He touched you as though you were made of glass.

His hands were hesitant and unsure, but so achingly tender it brought tears to your eyes. Every swipe of the washcloth, every stroke of his palm was deliberate, a silent apology for all the times he’d believed he didn’t deserve softness. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, surrounded by heat and steam and the quiet hum of water. Time didn’t matter. All that did was this, the slow melting of tension, the steady beat of his heart against yours, and the comfort of knowing that here, in this moment, you both had found something worth holding onto.

After drying off and pulling on soft, comfortable clothes, you settled into the rhythm of familiarity. Bucky perched at the edge of the bed, phone in hand, as he FaceTimed Morgan. You watched as the tired lines around his eyes softened at the sight of her excited face, his voice lifting just enough to sound like himself. “I promise I’m in one piece, kiddo,” He reassured her, holding the camera up so she could see the both of you. “Got a surprise for you next time I visit. I just know you’re gonna love it!” Morgan giggled, already speculating what said “surprise” was.

As the call continued, he had her and you laughing in no time, making goofy faces, promising to teach her how to do a proper left hook (with Pepper's reluctant permission), and patiently answering every curious question she had about what she had seen on the news. You noticed how his shoulders dropped, tension easing the longer he talked to her. Even Pepper smiled, though her eyes flicked across the screen with a mother's worry, lingering on the faint bruises still visible on his face.

When the call ended and the familiar dial tone hummed into silence, the weight of the night returned. The room felt heavier, quieter. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, phone dangling forgotten in one hand. The other scrubbed across his face as though trying to rub away everything he’d just relived. You straddled his lap slowly, grounding him with your presence, settling so your chest was against his, your arms around his shoulders.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, something you knew calmed him. “You want to tell me what happened?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. His throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing. “Yeah,” He rasped. “Yeah, I do.” And so he did. He spoke in starts and stops, piecing what had happened in fragments. He told you about flying to D.C. to expose Valentina de Fontaine. How he’d manage to convince force Yelena and her father, John Walker, Ava Starr, reluctantly, to gather enough evidence to bring Valentina down. But as usual, she was always ten steps ahead.

“She was manipulating this innocent man, Robert Reynolds, Bob, to somehow become the world’s New Avenger under her control, yet her plan had a horrible flaw,” He explained, eyes distant. “Bob, he had another side of him. This drug trail, it wasn’t anything like what happened to Steve or Banner. There was a darkness, a void.” Your hand moved from his hair to his chest, palm flat over his heartbeat. “Go on.” You coaxed softly, watching as his breathing grew more labored.

“The worst part,” He muttered after a long pause shutting his eyes, bracing himself. “Was that this alter ego, he could get inside our heads. All of us. It wasn’t just telepathy. It was like he peeled something back. Like he could reach into the rot of the trauma we’d buried and drag it into the light.” His voice cracked on the last word. Your arms tightened instinctively around his back, rubbing in slow reassuring circles. “He saw inside my worst nightmare,” Bucky continued, each word weighted and raw.

“And then he made me live it again. It felt so real, Y/N. The cold steel of the restraints. The stench of antiseptic. I was strapped down at that H.Y.D.R.A. base again. My body was fighting, but my mind—” His jaw clenched hard. “They were erasing me. Again and again. Every time I’d start to remember who I was, they’d wipe it clean. My name. My face. You.” A pained breath escaped him. “You were fading. I couldn’t hold on to you.” You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “But I’m right here,” You whispered.

“You held on enough to help your friends. To come home to me.” He swallowed back a whimper, blinking back tears. “I didn’t think I’d make it out,” He admitted, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think I deserved to.” You tilted his chin gently until his eyes met yours. “You always deserve to come home.” For a long time, he didn’t say anything, just let himself breathe against you, his arms wrapping around your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

Then, with a shaky exhale, he lifted your left hand and brought it to his lips again. He kissed the engagement ring slowly, reverently, holding your hand against his chest. “This,” He murmured, voice barely audible, “is the only thing that kept me from breaking.” You felt your own tears gather against your lash line as you processed his words. “Bucky, sweetheart, while I'm not thrilled you jumped into danger," You began, your tone soft but laced with honest concern. His arms wrapped around you tighter, keeping you anchored against him.

“I know, doll,” He murmured, his voice low against your lips. “I’m so sorry I scared you.” You pressed your index finger to his mouth before he could say anything else. “But I am so proud of you,” You declared firmly, your words laced with admiration, leaving no room for protest. That brought a real smile to his face, that rare kind of smile that lit up his features and made the years of pain and burden momentarily vanish. The kind of smile that always made you swoon just a little, no matter how many times you saw it.

“Besides,” You added with a dry scoff, “Let H.Y.D.R.A try to get close to you again and see what happens.” He raised an eyebrow, half amused and half confused. “What, you gonna fight 'em with your sarcasm?” You rolled your eyes, but your voice was calm and certain as you lifted your left hand between you. The ring glinted in the low lamplight. “No. You have me. And I’m not going anywhere.” Understanding dawned in his expression, and something unspoken passed between you.

You had seen each other at your best and worst, through blood and bruises and sleepless nights. And still, here you were. That was all he needed. And that was more than enough.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

Remember you are NEVER alone! Do not hesitate to ask for help if you are struggling with your mental health, reach out to your loved ones, check in on people who have been too quiet, and always remember to be kind because you never know what other people may be dealing with! 🤍

Mental Health Help Hotline: (833) 317-4673

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codename-adler · 18 days ago

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51.

Trojans interlude ft. the long overdue introduction of the myth the them the legend Cody Winter 🤙 and a little something… extra? oh lord Kevin does it again… but for once it’s not Neil 🤷‍♀️ thank you Nora for that stroke of inspiration <3 @givemethedamnflowers regarde comme il grandit vite notre petit Jean 🥹

[Ophelia Knox is Jeremy’s baby sister, see parts 20, Baby Pics pt.1 and 27 or #oc: ophelia knox for context]

Jean reply transl. (mine):

“You really do have the IQ of a shovel actually”

-> aftg socmed au masterlist

as always, holler if y’all wanne get on/off that tag list :)

tag fam: @sapphoherselz <3 @minyard-05 @you-know-i-get-itt @andrewsleftarmband @millportisntreal @glendover @the-circumstances @tessasilverswan @larkspire @detectivebambam @ohmpunn @youdontknowhowtodiequietly @pink-hydrangea @allfor-thegames @jjjosten @little2nerdy @jean-yvesning @buffalo-fox @monster-with-an-attitude-problem @captain-sunshine-11 @inafieldofstarflowers @moon-over-ruined-castle @mqmneee @carbon-dated-gal @fieldsofpoppies-in-salt-air @ienvysomegays @jdreaming @mqmneee @anxiouslyandmessily @min-getoutofmy-yard @iseethestarsyouseethedarkness @clavicuss-vile @vellichor-lover @jctko @mineyardjostenrivalry @qixjone @cupofmaddy @hellonthengine @amphibianisconcerned @givemethedamnflowers

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thinkinonsense · 8 months ago

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Sit Still｡𖦹°‧

—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.

a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao

"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"

your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.

"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"

a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.

it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.

late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.

ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.

"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."

swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.

"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."

it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.

"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."

"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"

too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.

"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."

the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.

"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"

"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.

despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.

"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."

all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.

"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."

in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.

the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.

"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.

logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.

"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."

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90s-kid-sad-adult · 9 months ago

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House, you've tanned

#house md #series #house md edit #house md series #house md fandom #house md cast #house cast #lisa cuddy #robert sean leonard #james wilson #lisa edelstein #omar epps #eric foreman #house md oc

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demaparbat-hp · 8 months ago

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The Crew is boisterous and loud, full of traitors, inside jokes, and secrets. The scum of the Fire Nation. The forgotten tiles on the Empire's Pai Sho board. The ones who change the game.

But most importantly—they're a family. And no matter how much they complain about their boss (teenage menace that he is), they'll do anything for their Prince.

Anything.

The Crew is the heart and soul of my fic For the Spirits. No one really knows just how important they will be to the story...how important they already are.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #atla fanart #prince zuko #atla art #new gods au #for the spirits #the crew #zuko's crew #atla fanfic #atla fic #atla au #spirit touched zuko #lieutenant jee #Royal Guard Ming #Ensign Yoi #Captain Yume #Helmsman Taku #Chief Engineer On Zhe #Healer Oyoshi #Chef Bao #atla oc #Ming is the glorious lady yelling POUTY POUT POUT. She's fun and protective and a terrible liar.#She could also break boulders without even using firebending. Just so you know. (It's incredibly easy to underestimate her though)#Next to her is her bff; soulmate; and the Crew's resident James Potter—our very own Yoi.#The intense old lady is Yume. She has known Iroh for most of their lives and served alongside him in Ba Sing Se. Do NOT mess with her.#The blushing mess? That's Taku. He's aware of everything that goes on in the Wani. EVERYTHING. And he has a crush on Yume. Who wouldn't?#Talking about love. Our resident couple are On Zhe and Oyoshi. On Zhe is a sickly and shy genius. Oyoshi is a strict and no-nonsense healer.#And lastly we have Chef Bao! He doesn't appear very often and we know little about him. The Crew likes to come up with backstories for him.

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stargrillzz · 24 days ago

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Can’t help it, he’s so cute

summary: Bucky, knowing the team needs a new place to hide, turns to the only person he knows will support him. You didn't expect him to bring an entire team with him.

note: OMG BOB IS SO CUTE. xoxo

The makeshift safehouse reeked of dust and distrust.

It was someone’s abandoned cabin off-grid in the middle of Wyoming—too many pine trees, not enough coffee. The floor creaked when Yelena shifted her weight, sitting cross-legged on a rickety table while eating sunflower seeds like she was born for the apocalypse. Ava was pacing like a caged animal near the window. John Walker had his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place. Bucky sat in the middle of the room, elbows on knees, fingers threaded into his hair.

And Bob Reynolds… well. Bob stood shirtless in the corner, looking like an accidental god. His shoulders didn’t fit into normal space. His glowing eyes flicked around the room like he was still trying to figure out how reality worked. Or maybe he was just bored. Hard to tell with him.

“So what now?” Alexei grunted from the only real chair, arms stretched wide like a king. “We camp here and wait for the government to find us again? Bad plan. Terrible plan. I’ve been in Russian prisons with more dignity.”

“No one asked you,” Walker muttered.

“We need somewhere better,” Ava cut in, her voice sharp but tired. “Somewhere we can lay low. Where they wouldn’t think to look.”

“Well unless one of you has a vacation home in the Alps,” Yelena said dryly, “we’re pretty much screwed.”

Bucky didn’t move. His jaw ticked once, like a switch flipped in his brain. Slowly, he stood up, eyes distant. “I might know someone.”

That got everyone’s attention. Bob tilted his head, blinking once. Ava stopped pacing. Yelena actually paused mid-sunflower seed.

“You know someone?” Alexei asked.

“Who?” Walker asked, skeptical.

“Just—give me a minute,” Bucky said, already walking outside. He tugged his jacket tighter around him, heading into the cold with a phone already in his hand. His thumb hovered over a number he hadn’t dialed in a long time. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he wasn’t sure he should.

Your contact lit up his screen: Cutest Stark💋 Obviously you saved your contact under that name when you were helping Bucky use his new phone, he just laughed an decided keep it that way.

He sighed and hit call.

Meanwhile, in New York City…

In the gleaming kitchen of Stark Tower—your inherited kingdom—you stirred a bubbling sauce with one hand while balancing your phone between your shoulder and cheek. Morgan’s face filled the screen. She was giggling at something offscreen, probably one of the robots you still kept around.

“—and then I told him,” Morgan said between snickers, “if he thinks he’s smarter than me, he can explain why he just fell for the oldest prank in the book.”

You laughed, warm and full, moving around the kitchen barefoot in one of Tony’s old MIT sweatshirts. “God, you’re such a Stark it hurts.”

“I know,” Morgan beamed. “You taught me well.”

Before you could respond, a second call tried to interrupt. Your screen flashed with a name you hadn’t seen in weeks. Maybe months. James. F. Barnes.

You froze.

Morgan squinted. “Is that who I think it is?”

You smiled, heart stuttering, sauce forgotten. “Yeah. I—hang on, peanut.”

You switched the call, pressed video, and Bucky’s face filled your screen, framed by pine trees and late afternoon light. His hair was longer. His stubble thicker. He looked tired… but your name made him smile.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Bucky!” You nearly dropped the spoon. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see your face. Where have you been? Wait—never mind, I don’t care. I missed you. Are you okay? Are you safe?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I missed you too. I, uh… I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important.”

Your expression softened immediately. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”

“We’re in a tight spot. New team, no allies. We need a place to lay low for a bit.”

You didn’t hesitate. “You’re coming home.”

He blinked. “You sure?”

“Bucky,” you said gently, “I kept this place running for a reason. Your room’s still here. The tower’s secure. FRIDAY still knows your coffee order. Come home.”

He exhaled slowly, like the weight of the world finally slid off his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“You don’t even have to ask.” You paused, smirking a little. “But when you get here, you will have to explain why the hell it took you this long to call me. I mean, seriously. I thought you died. Again.”

He chuckled, that low, gravelly laugh that used to echo through the Tower halls. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.”

Then your voice softened. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

The call ended, but your chest stayed warm. Morgan peeked back on the screen, smirking. “So… do I get to meet your war criminal boyfriend now?”

You groaned, but couldn’t stop smiling. “He’s not my—oh, shut up.”

Because yes, obviously, you always liked Bucky.

Who wouldn't?

It was just a crush though.

He was clearly a man who wasn't ready for anything with anyone, and you were a person who wanted everything with someone. Clearly, you weren't a good match. The point here, the sweet tone you used with him and the tender way you looked at him, was because he was your last lifeline. The last thing you had left connected to your father, Steve, Nat. Bucky is the last thing you had left, the only living proof that everything that happened really happened and wasn't in vain.

“We have a place,” Bucky said flatly, stepping back into the cabin’s main room. Everyone looked up.

Alexei blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, pulling his glove tighter. “It’s secure, off-radar, not government-controlled. We’ll be safe.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Where?”

He hesitated just long enough for them all to stare.

“…Stark Tower,” he finally muttered, and immediately regretted how that sounded.

Walker nearly choked. “You’re taking us to Tony Stark’s skyscraper? The Stark Tower? Didn’t that thing light up like a Christmas tree every time someone sneezed near Manhattan?”

“It’s under new management,” Bucky grumbled, grabbing his bag. “Let’s go.”

The quinjet landed on the private helipad atop Stark Tower at sunset, the entire skyline of New York painted in golden pinks and fire. The building glowed from within — a quiet kind of warmth, like someone had taken a monument of history and turned it into a real home.

The moment the team stepped into the elevator, surrounded by polished chrome and holographic glass panels, Bucky turned to face them all like an exhausted dad.

“Okay,” he said, lifting his hands. “I mean this — please. Behave.”

Yelena gave a little shrug. “You act like we are not capable of being polite.”

“You’re not,” Bucky shot back.

“Who exactly lives here now?” Ava asked, watching the floor numbers tick upward.

“That’d be…the older Stark,” Bucky said carefully. “Tony’s oldest daughter.”

The group went quiet.

“Oh,” Alexei said. “That Stark.”

“Wait wait wait,” Walker held up a finger. “Like Stark-Stark? The billionaire genius daughter of Iron Man who disappeared from public life after he—”

“Yes,” Bucky cut him off sharply. His voice lowered. “She was like family to Tony’s team. She stayed behind to keep the place safe. And she’s letting us stay, so try not to ruin it.”

Before anyone could reply, the elevator chimed — and the doors opened.

You stood there.

Hair soft and glowing in the evening light. Wearing leggings and a loose tank, barefoot but radiant, like the Tower itself breathed easier when you were in it. You held your breath the moment you saw Bucky, your eyes wide, lips parted, like you weren’t sure if he was real or a memory.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

He barely had time to register your name before you ran.

You launched into his arms like muscle memory, clinging to him with your face buried in his shoulder, and he caught you without hesitation, arms winding around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was tight, grounding, a little desperate.

“God, I missed you,” you murmured against his neck.

“I missed you too,” he said into your hair. “You look—Jesus, you look beautiful. You always do.”

You pulled back, eyes glossy but full of a grin. “You really ghosted me, Barnes.”

“I know.” He grimaced, brushing your cheek. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“You better.”

You finally turned your attention to the crew behind him, all still in the elevator like they were watching a rom-com unfold in real time.

“Wow,” you breathed. “You brought… everyone.”

He cleared his throat, hand still on the small of your back. “Right. Uh—guys, this is Y/N Stark. She’s letting us crash here.”

You smiled. “Welcome to Stark Tower, or what’s left of it. Now a semi-chaotic haven for misfit vigilantes, apparently.”

Alexei stepped forward and shook your hand with a grin. “Is honor to meet small Stark daughter.”

“Oh no,” you smiled. “I’m not small. I’m just the older sibling now.”

Yelena stepped out next, and the moment your eyes locked with hers, you froze mid-breath.

“…You okay?” Yelena asked gently, brow creased.

You nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “It’s just—Natasha… she was like an aunt to me. We lived here together. She’d braid my hair in the mornings. Seeing you—it’s like a part of her walked back through the door.”

Yelena’s gaze softened instantly. She stepped forward and pulled you into a quiet, firm hug. “She would’ve loved that,” she said into your ear. “And I think she’d be glad you’re still here.”

You clung to her a second longer than expected, heart full. Bucky smiled to himself, a weight lifted.

Then John Walker strolled forward, flashing you his best smug grin. “So… you’re telling me a gorgeous, genius Stark lives in a high-rise all alone? How’s that legal?”

Before you could answer, Bucky’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “Back off.”

Walker blinked. “What? I’m just saying hi.”

“Say hi to the wall,” Bucky muttered.

And then—

You turned.

And saw him.

Bob Reynolds stood awkwardly near the elevator’s edge, towering, golden-haired, built like a titan and blinking like he didn’t know where to put his hands. His eyes met yours, and then traveled—slowly, reverently—across every inch of you.

And then, aloud—without even realizing:

“…She looks like a goddess.”

Everyone went still.

Bob’s face froze. His mouth dropped slightly.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, eyes wide in horror. “I—I thought that. That was supposed to stay inside my head.”

You laughed, hand covering your mouth as your cheeks flushed. “You’re sweet.”

Bob blushed so hard it looked like his skin might combust.

“I—I didn’t mean to—like, you are, but—oh no, I should stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you said, grinning. “You’re adorable. You can talk.”

He looked at Bucky for help. Bucky looked like he wanted to throw him off the balcony.

You clapped your hands. “Okay! Quick tour before someone combusts. Everyone gets a private room with a bathroom. There’s a training floor on level 12, a kitchen that doesn’t explode anymore thanks to FRIDAY, and a living space where you can yell at each other like a dysfunctional family. Just—don’t break anything expensive, or sentimental. Or, y’know, the structural integrity of the building.”

Yelena raised her hand. “Do weapons count as sentimental?”

“Only if they were gifted,” you winked.

---

It was late.

The kind of late where the city had gone quiet, even the Tower’s hum softened like it was tucked under a blanket. You were curled into the corner of the oversized couch in the common room, legs folded, one of Tony’s hoodies hanging loose off your shoulder. The only light came from the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the skyline blinked in a million tiny stars.

And Bucky was sitting beside you.

Not close enough to touch — not yet — but close enough that your knees almost brushed, that the weight of his presence filled the space in ways silence never could.

You smiled softly, looking out the window. “Morgan asked about you again today.”

He glanced over. “She did?”

You nodded. “She thinks you’re my boyfriend. Keeps insisting on it, actually. Says she’s seen the way I smile when you text.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Smart kid.”

You bumped his knee. “She gets it from me.”

He looked over, finally meeting your eyes. His were tired, but soft. "I missed this. I missed you."

“I missed you too,” you whispered, and you meant it like it had been carved into your chest.

A pause stretched between you — not awkward, just heavy. Heavy with time. With words you hadn’t gotten to say.

“How’ve you been?” you asked gently.

He exhaled, leaning back. “Weird. Floating. Sometimes I feel like I’ve figured things out. Then I wake up and I’m right back where I started. The team helps, but… I’m still figuring out who I am when I’m not being used. When I’m not fighting.”

You nodded. “I get that.”

He looked at you for a long beat. “How about you?”

You hesitated.

Then you told the truth.

“I’ve been lonely.”

It came out quieter than you meant it to. You stared at your hands. “At first, it was just grief. For my dad, for Nat, for Steve—God, even Thor. I don’t know where the hell he is. Clint’s with his kids. Bruce is off somewhere being Bruce. Everyone left. Or died. And I… stayed.”

Bucky watched you like the world might shatter if he blinked.

You gave a small smile. “I kept this place alive, Bucky. I filled the Tower with warmth again, but it didn’t feel like home. Not without any of you here. So I got used to it. The quiet. The space. The ghosts.”

Bucky moved closer, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded thing.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his voice steady. “Not anymore. Not as long as I’m here.”

You looked at him.

“I mean it,” he whispered, reaching for your hand. His metal fingers brushed against your skin like he was still afraid to break it. “You and me, we’re gonna stick together.”

“‘Til when?” you asked, a small smile playing at your lips.

He squeezed your hand.

“‘Til the end of the line.”

You closed your eyes. That old phrase — it still made your heart ache in the sweetest way. You turned your hand to link your fingers with his, soft and sure.

And then you whispered back: “I’ll love you 3000.”

His breath caught.

And he smiled.

Like something lost had just come back to him.

Like a promise he’d almost forgotten was suddenly real again.

---

The training room of Stark Tower was nearly empty — just the quiet whir of air conditioning and the thud of your feet hitting the mat as you moved through a practiced series of kicks and strikes. You’d been at it for an hour, sweat glistening down your neck, your breathing even, controlled. The Tower’s AI, FRIDAY, had the playlist low in the background, something smooth with a beat you could punch to.

You weren’t showing off.

But you weren’t holding back either.

Your dad started your training when you were a kid — when you were still small enough to sit in the lap of one of his Iron Man suits. And when Natasha took over, it became second nature. Your body knew the dance of it. Every twist, every dodge, every controlled exhale.

And then—

You felt it.

The eyes.

You stopped mid-kick, chest rising and falling.

“…You know,” you said without turning around, grabbing a towel from the bench and dabbing your forehead, “if you’re gonna stare at me like that, the polite thing to do is say hi.”

A pause. Then a very deep voice stammered—

“I wasn’t—staring. I mean—okay, I was. But not in a weird way.”

You turned.

Bob Reynolds stood in the doorway, sheepish and impossibly sweet for a man who could melt steel with his pinky. His hair was tousled like he’d just run a hand through it out of pure nerves, and he was already blushing, even before you smiled.

You cocked your head. “That so?”

He blinked. “I mean—you were… doing that spin-kick thing. It was really impressive.”

You took a few steps closer, casually. Your sports bra clung to your ribs, the black fabric soaked in a way that definitely wasn’t helping Bob keep his thoughts PG. “Thanks. I’ve been training since I was little.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I could tell. You move like a storm.”

You raised a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment, or a warning?”

His eyes widened. “Compliment! Definitely. A very respectful—intense—uh, not creepy compliment.”

You laughed, crossing your arms loosely. “Relax, Bob. I’m not gonna kick your ass.”

“…I’d probably let you.”

Your smile froze for a second, caught off-guard — and then widened.

“Oh?” you teased. “You into that sort of thing?”

Bob’s face went bright red. “N-no! I mean, I—I don’t know if I’m—uh, maybe? Oh god, I said that out loud again, didn’t I?”

You laughed so hard you had to brace your hands on your knees. “You really need a filter.”

He groaned, half-hiding behind a training dummy. “I swear I used to be cool.”

“I think you’re pretty cute like this.”

That got his attention.

He peeked out at you, blinking like he wasn’t sure you were being serious. “You… do?”

You took a step closer again, slow and smooth. “You’re like a golden retriever with godlike powers. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bob laughed, rubbing the back of his neck again, his voice a little softer. “Yeah, well… you’re like… if a goddess got bored of Olympus and decided to just casually ruin me on a Tuesday.”

You tilted your head, genuinely curious. “Ruin you, huh?”

He looked like he might spontaneously combust. “I—I mean emotionally. I think.”

You leaned in just a little. “You say the sweetest things.”

Bob’s breath caught as your fingers brushed his arm, just lightly.

Then you backed up, letting him breathe, and turned your attention back to the training mat.

“I’m done here,” you said, tossing your towel over your shoulder. “You coming?”

He blinked. “Coming where?”

You looked over your shoulder, your smile slow and teasing. “Kitchen. You owe me a smoothie. For the compliments. And the stare.”

Bob followed like a puppy. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I make a killer smoothie. Or, like… an aggressively average one. But I’ll give it emotional effort.”

You snorted. “Just don’t explode the blender.”

“No promises.”

As the elevator closed behind you both, he looked at you again — still soft, still wonderstruck — and whispered, “You really are something else.”

You didn’t answer.

You just leaned a little closer, brushing his knuckles with yours.

---

The kitchen was full of sunlight and chaos.

Alexei was digging through the fridge like it personally offended him. Yelena was perched on the countertop, already eating cold pizza with no shame. Ava stood in the corner like a ghost who had opinions but refused to share them. John Walker was trying — and failing — to figure out how to use the espresso machine.

And Bob?

Bob was making pancakes.

Or attempting to.

“Is this… normal?” Yelena asked, watching with a crooked grin as Bob poured another lumpy circle of batter onto the skillet, half of it splashing onto the stove.

“It’s either breakfast,” you said, tying your robe a little tighter around your waist as you stepped into the room, “or a science experiment.”

Bob turned around at the sound of your voice and lit up. “You’re up!”

You smiled. “Didn’t think I’d sleep through a kitchen explosion.”

He beamed like you’d just handed him a Nobel Prize. “I made you pancakes!”

You walked over, inspecting the pile. “…You tried to make me pancakes.”

“They’re… heart-shaped?” he offered hopefully.

“They look like they’re bleeding.”

He laughed, bright and boyish, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Bucky’s voice came from behind you — low, casual, watchful.

You turned just in time to catch him entering, hair still damp from the shower, black T-shirt clinging to his chest, dog tags tucked out of sight. His eyes flicked from you to Bob, then to the pancakes, and then back to Bob again.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That for her?”

Bob straightened. “Yeah! I mean—yeah, I wanted to make her something. As a thank-you. For letting us crash here.”

Bucky’s tone stayed polite. Too polite. “Right. Real thoughtful of you.”

Bob swallowed, and you quickly stepped between them.

“He’s just being nice,” you said with a smile, brushing Bucky’s arm as you passed. “And I did promise to let him cook something after that smoothie yesterday.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “He cooked?”

“Well… he blended.”

Walker wandered in with a cup of badly frothed coffee. “We talking about Bob’s pancake massacre? I give ‘em 4 outta 10. Points for optimism.”

“You put ketchup on eggs,” Yelena muttered.

“That’s freedom flavor.”

You rolled your eyes and slid onto a stool, sipping the orange juice Ava had silently placed beside you. “Thank you, Ava.”

She nodded, her version of a hug.

Bob placed a plate in front of you, his proudest smile yet. “Okay. Taste test.”

You picked up the fork dramatically, took a bite… and paused.

Bob leaned in. “Well?”

“…It’s not the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” you said.

Yelena choked. Walker snorted. Bucky froze mid-sip of coffee, eyes locked on you.

You turned to Bob with a sweet smile. “That was not meant to sound that filthy.”

Bob, very red: “I—uh—I wasn’t thinking anything. I mean I was, but not that—well, okay, I was but I—”

Bucky stepped between you both, casually, placing a protective hand on your back and subtly guiding you away from the stove like it was radioactive.

“She doesn’t need to eat any more of that,” he said firmly. “I’ll cook something decent.”

“Hey,” Bob protested. “They’re edible!”

“Barely,” Bucky muttered, already cracking eggs into a bowl. “She deserves real food.”

You leaned on the counter, grinning at him.

“Overprotective much?”

He glanced at you sideways, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear. “You’ve had enough men treat you like something to win. I’m not letting him be one of them.”

You stared at him, heart skipping just a bit.

“…You know I can take care of myself, right?”

“I know.” He handed you a fork. “Doesn’t mean I won’t still try.”

You bit your lip, hiding a soft smile.

And Bob — poor Bob — watched you both with a mixture of awe and panic, like he’d just stumbled into a Netflix rom-com and realized he might be the side character.

“Uh,” he said finally, “I can do dishes!”

Yelena patted his shoulder. “That’s probably safer.”

---

The training room was charged.

You were in leggings and a fitted tank top, wrapping your wrists in tape, jaw set with a hint of a smirk. Across from you stood John Walker, cocky as ever, bouncing on the balls of his feet like this was a warm-up. Ava and Yelena sat off to the side, watching with sharp eyes and popcorn-level interest.

Bob was leaning on the far wall, arms crossed, pretending not to watch too hard. He was failing.

And Bucky?

He was there too. Silent. Focused. Leaning against the glass with arms folded tight across his chest, jaw clenched, eyes glued to you.

“I go easy on Stark’s kid, or what?” Walker joked as he stepped forward.

You smirked. “If you need to.”

The match started.

Walker was good — strong, fast, overconfident. You was better — precise, fluid, cool as ice. He threw a hook. You ducked. Spun. Grabbed his wrist, twisted, and swept him flat onto his back in one breathless second.

“Jesus,” Walker groaned, staring at the ceiling. “You marry me and we rule the world or what?”

From the corner, Bucky pushed off the wall.

“No.”

Walker blinked up at him. “Uh—wasn’t really asking you.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He stepped into the ring without a word, eyes locked on you. The tension in the room crackled. Even Bob stood straighter.

You tilted your head. “You wanna go?”

His voice was low. “You need a real challenge.”

You smiled. “Alright, soldier.”

You circled each other slowly, like a dance you’d done before. Bucky moved with sharp grace — watching, calculating, and when he struck, it was fast. You blocked. Countered. Moved into his space. He grabbed your waist during a fake-out — held you a second too long — and flipped you.

You hit the mat with a laugh. “Cheap.”

“You love cheap.”

“You love controlling.”

He smirked. “Only when it keeps you safe.”

You were breathing fast, skin flushed, limbs burning with adrenaline — and you knew what this looked like. The way he lingered in your space. The way your hand lingered too long on his chest when you got back up.

And Bob?

Bob had gone very, very quiet.

When the match ended, you caught your breath and turned — but Bob was already gone.

---

You found him on the balcony outside the Tower gym. His back was to the wall, hair tousled, long legs stretched out, eyes on the sky.

You stepped out, closing the door behind you. “You ghosting me?”

He didn’t look at you. “Wasn’t trying to.”

You sat beside him, knee brushing his. “You left kind of fast.”

“I figured you and Bucky needed… space.” He forced a laugh. “Looked like you two had your own language going on.”

You were quiet for a second. Then—

“He’s protective,” you said gently. “Always has been. But that doesn’t mean—”

Bob cut you off, voice low. “You let him touch you like that.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“I know it’s not my place,” Bob went on, rubbing his palms together like he was trying to wring something out of them. “I just… I see how he looks at you. And you let him get close. Real close.”

You swallowed. “He’s family, Bob.”

“Family doesn’t look at you like that,” he whispered. “Like they’d burn the world down just to keep you for themselves.”

You turned to him — really turned.

And for the first time, Bob didn’t meet your gaze. He stared straight ahead.

“I’m not stupid,” he said. “I know what I am. I’ve been broken. Rebuilt. Ripped apart inside. I know I’m not the guy someone like you is supposed to end up with.”

“Don’t say that.”

He exhaled, a bitter edge curling into his voice. “You laugh at my stupid jokes. You let me make you smoothies. You smile like I’m more than just some weird science accident with a god complex. And I don’t even know if you mean it or if you’re just—being nice. Because you’re kind.”

You reached out, gently cupping his jaw. That got him to look at you.

“I meant every smile, Bob. Every time.”

He blinked, breath hitching.

You leaned in, forehead brushing his. “If I didn’t… would I be out here with you, when I could be inside with him?”

He closed his eyes. “You make me feel like I’m not a mistake.”

You kissed his cheek — soft, lingering. “You’re not.”

And in that moment, something shifted.

He didn’t kiss you. Not yet.

But he stayed close.

And he didn’t look at the sky again.

He only looked at you.

---

It was late.

The city was quiet in the way it only gets around midnight — the hum of traffic in the distance, a breeze threading between tall buildings, neon lights flickering against puddles.

You were walking with Bob, hands brushing now and then, neither of you saying much.

You didn’t have to.

He’d shown up outside your door after dinner with two milkshakes and a hoodie that was definitely his and had asked if you wanted to take a walk. No big mission. No team. Just you and him.

And now you were here. Calm. Close. Every few seconds, he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You turned to him with a smile. “You keep staring.”

Bob flushed. “Sorry. You just look…”

His voice trailed off.

You raised a brow. “Look what?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Like you should be illegal.”

You laughed. “Is that your way of flirting?”

He grinned shyly. “I’m new to it.”

You were about to respond when you heard it — footsteps quickening behind you, a camera flash, and then—

“Hey! Hey, wait—aren’t you Stark’s daughter?”

A man with a phone stepped in front of you, suddenly way too close. He wasn’t paparazzi — just some guy. Early twenties, beer on his breath, and eyes darting up and down your body like you were on display.

“Holy sh*t, it is you,” he said, stepping closer. “Damn, I thought you were hotter on the news, but—Jesus, you’re—”

“Back up,” Bob said sharply.

The man blinked, finally looking at him. “Relax, dude, I’m just trying to get a picture—”

“I said back the f*ck up.”

You grabbed Bob’s arm, gently. “It’s okay—”

But it wasn’t.

Because the air changed.

The golden hum started in Bob’s chest — soft, at first. His breath hitched, eyes flickering. You saw the power curling at his fingertips, glowing like a warning.

He stepped between you and the stranger, voice like steel. “You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to talk to her. You don’t even get to look at her like that.”

“Jesus, alright,” the guy muttered, backing off. “Freak.”

And then he was gone.

Bob didn’t move.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping around to face him. “Hey, look at me.”

His jaw was tight. Hands shaking. Power still crackling in his veins.

“I’m okay,” you said, placing both hands on his chest. “I’m okay, Bob.”

He looked at you like he was barely holding it together. “He was looking at you like you were a thing.”

“But I’m not,” you whispered. “I’m yours. Right?”

Something in him broke.

In a second, his hands were on your hips, gripping hard like he needed to feel you to believe it. He pulled you close — flush against him — and kissed you like he couldn’t breathe without it.

You gasped, and he groaned, deep and rough, backing you up against the nearest wall, his body covering yours. The city faded. There was only him.

His voice was low, shaking. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered, lips brushing his.

He kissed down your neck, open-mouthed, desperate. “I want you so bad. I want to keep you like this — close. Always.”

“You can,” you said, tugging his hoodie until he was practically on top of you. “You already do.”

“I’ll protect you,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never let anyone get near you like that again. Not even him.”

You shook your head. “Bob…”

He smiled, eyes soft now. “I know. It’s not about him. It’s just—when it comes to you… I go a little feral.”

You kissed him again — slower this time, deeper, and when you pulled back, his eyes were glowing with heat and something softer too.

“You make me feel like I’m someone worth loving,” he whispered.

You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You are.”

And right there, in the quiet dark of the city, Bob Reynolds kissed you like a promise:

That you were his. And he was yours. And no one would ever touch you again — not unless they wanted to burn.

---

The front door clicked shut behind you.

The tower was dark, lit only by the city glow bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You kicked your shoes off, tossing your jacket on the bench near the elevator.

Bob followed behind you, quieter than usual, hoodie sleeves pushed up, jaw tight.

Neither of you had said much since that moment in the alley. His hand had hovered at your lower back the whole walk home, but he didn’t touch you again.

He hadn’t needed to.

The air between you was thick.

You glanced at him now as you padded toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink? I think there’s still some—”

Bob grabbed your hand.

You turned.

He was right there.

Close. Eyes burning. His thumb brushed your wrist, and when he spoke, it was low and aching.

“Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

You stepped into him instead.

His hands found your waist, slow and reverent. “I almost lost it earlier,” he whispered. “The way he touched you. Looked at you. I—I saw red.”

“I know,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his face.

Bob leaned into your hand. “It scared me. How fast I’d burn down the whole world for you.”

Your chest rose and fell, breath catching.

“Bob…”

“I don’t want to be careful with you anymore,” he said, voice rough. “I want to be yours. I want to show you what it means to be wanted—not just protected. Not just looked after. Claimed.”

A beat passed.

Then you whispered: “Then take me.”

That’s all it took.

He kissed you.

Not the sweet, nervous kisses from before. This was hungry. Deep. Desperate. Like he was memorizing the taste of your mouth in case the world ended tomorrow.

You gasped as he picked you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, walking you backwards down the hallway toward your room — his hoodie riding up your thighs, your fingers twisted in his hair.

He dropped you onto the bed like you were the softest, most sacred thing he’d ever touched.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he breathed, crawling over you, every line of his body pressed to yours. “You walk into a room and I forget who I am.”

“Bob—”

He kissed your neck. Your collarbone. Worshipping. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you what it feels like to be mine.”

You nodded, chest rising and falling fast. “Please.”

He pulled back just long enough to tug the hoodie over your head — and then paused.

His eyes swept over you. Slowly. Reverently.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

You reached up, tugging at his shirt, and he let you peel it off. And when his skin touched yours — warm, flushed, shaking — he groaned like he’d just come home.

Everything after that blurred into heat and light and him:

His mouth tracing every inch of your body. His voice in your ear, thick with praise: “You’re so beautiful… so sweet… so mine.” His hands holding you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. And when he finally pushed into you — slow, deep, trembling with how badly he needed it — he buried his face in your neck and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

You clung to him, breathless, lost in the feel of him, the weight of him, the way he filled you so completely it felt like he’d marked your soul.

And when you came undone — shivering, gasping his name — he followed seconds later, holding you tight like he never wanted to let go.

After, you lay tangled together, sheets kicked down, the city glowing outside the window.

Bob kissed your forehead, still breathless.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not now. Not ever.”

You smiled, eyes heavy, voice soft. “Good.” Because now? You were his and he was yours.

---

The next morning in Stark Tower felt unusually quiet.

You were in the kitchen, making coffee, wrapped in one of Bob’s oversized hoodies, the fabric soft against your skin. The scent of fresh brew filled the air, a small comfort in the sprawling, empty space.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a careful gaze that had grown sharper over the past few days.

At first, he thought it was just the normal relief of seeing you safe — but lately, there was something different.

The way you smiled at Bob across the room, the easy way you let him touch you, the way Bob’s eyes lingered on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

It hit Bucky like a punch to the gut.

He cleared his throat.

“Morning,” he said, voice a little rough.

You turned, bright-eyed and warm. “Hey, Bucky. Coffee?”

He nodded, stepping inside. “Thanks.”

There was a pause.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. “Look… I just wanted to say… it’s good to see you smiling again.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’ve missed this. Missed all of you.”

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah… well, some things don’t change. I still don’t like the idea of anyone—” He glanced toward Bob, who was casually lifting weights nearby, “—getting too close.”

Your smile faltered just a bit.

Bob caught the glance and grinned, waving a dumbbell like a trophy.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything else.

Later, as you and Bob settled in the training room, Bucky lingered nearby, watching from a distance.

He noticed how Bob’s hand found yours easily, how your laughter sounded lighter when you were with him, and how Bob’s protective gaze never left you, even in moments when no one else was around.

The realization was sinking in.

Something had changed.

And Bucky wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

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