#mcu winter solider

[ilovolderman]

Playing It Cool

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam’s getting way too suspicious about your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, laundry room shenanigans, sam wilson being done

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam didn’t sleep well.

It wasn’t the coffee. It wasn’t even the lingering PTSD from a week spent chasing Hydra remnants. No, this was different.

This was gut feeling. Instinct.

He was standing in the kitchen, hair wild, hoodie misaligned, and eyes like a war veteran who’d seen things and couldn’t unsee them. The clock blinked a smug 7:03 a.m. He poured black coffee like a man betrayed by the very concept of sleep.

That’s when he saw it.

Two mugs on the counter.

One had your initials. The other—a vintage WWII fighter plane sticker. It hadn’t been there last night. He knew, because he always did a final kitchen sweep before bed. Counters clean. Dishes put away. Mugs? Accounted for.

His eye twitched.

“…Barnes,” Sam whispered.

He crouched slowly, inspecting the mugs like they might start confessing their crimes.

Then the hallway creaked. Sam turned so fast he sloshed coffee onto his hoodie.

You entered the room, yawning dramatically, hoodie sleeves engulfing your hands.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

Sam squinted. “Is it? Is it really?”

You blinked. “…Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, with the exact tone of a man who was absolutely not fine. He walked to the table and pulled out a chair like it owed him money. “Sit.”

“Why?”

“Because I have questions.”

“I’m not under interrogation.”

“You are now.”

“…Sam.”

“Tell me what you were doing between 0500 and 0700 hours.”

“Sleeping.”

“Alone?”

You squinted. “What kind of creepy follow-up—?”

Sam narrowed his eyes like a raccoon about to steal a whole rotisserie chicken. “I knew it. There’s a cover-up.”

You grabbed a piece of toast and headed for the hallway. “There’s a cover-up on your brain, Wilson.”

“I’ve seen the signs,” Sam called after you. “The glances! The whispers! The ‘accidental’ brush of hands during mission briefings!”

“Maybe I’m just clumsy!” you yelled.

“And matching mugs?”

“That sticker was mine first!”

Before Sam could yell something, Bucky entered the room, with aexpression criminally smug. He looked like the kind of man who had just done something worth hiding.

“Morning,” Bucky said, voice low and gravelly. He moved to the coffee pot.

Sam’s eyes followed him like a hawk on its sixth espresso.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“I’m great,” Sam replied. “Y/N just left.”

“Cool.”

“Came in lookin’ real tired.”

“People get tired.”

“You look real tired.”

Bucky paused, looked Sam dead in the eye. “You implying something?”

Sam sipped his coffee. “I don’t know. You implying something?”

They stared each other down. The air crackled. Somewhere in the distance, a tumbleweed rolled by. A raven cawed.

“You need sleep,” Bucky muttered.

“I’ll sleep when the truth sleeps,” Sam snapped back.

Then Sam dramatically left the room—only to storm back in ten seconds later to grab a banana. He peeled it with authority and left again.

Later that morning, when Sam had finally left for a jog—or more accurately, a neighborhood reconnaissance mission—you found yourself back in the kitchen. You were putting away a dish, humming quietly to yourself, when a pair of warm arms slid around your waist.

You didn’t jump. You never did when it was him.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured against your neck, voice soft now, stripped of the earlier smugness he reserved for sparring with Sam. His lips brushed your skin like a secret.

“Hey yourself,” you whispered, leaning back into his chest. “You’re not worried Sam’s going to install surveillance cameras?”

“He probably already has.” You both laughed.

He rested his chin on your shoulder. “I left my mug out on purpose, you know.”

You turned your head to look at him, brow raised. “Seriously?”

Bucky shrugged, expression boyishly proud. “He’s been circling for weeks. Figured we’d give him a trail to follow. Let the man feel like he cracked the case.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You are so chaotic.”

He grinned. “You love it.”

You turned in his arms, resting your hands on his chest. “Yeah… I kinda do.”

He kissed you then. Slow. Sweet. Familiar. The kind of kiss that said, even with a super-spy roommate and questionable mugs, this? This is real.

Later that night you bumped into Sam, sitting on the couch. He was hunched forward, elbows on knees, staring ahead

“Where are you going?” he asked, voice low and suspicious, eyes narrowing like you’d just confessed to treason.

You froze. “Uh. Laundry?”

“Interesting,” he said, voice dripping with suspicion. “You know who else said they had laundry tonight?”

You blinked. “…Literally everyone who owns clothes?”

Sam didn’t smile. He leaned in, voice lowering like he was revealing national security secrets. “Barnes. Same night. Same floor. Same time.”

You paused just long enough to regret getting out of your room.

“It’s a laundry room, Sam,” you said flatly. “That’s how they work. People… use it.”

“Mmmhm,” he replied, writing something cryptic in his notebook. The pen squeaked aggressively against the page.

Just then, the door swung open—and in walked Bucky Barnes, freshly showered, damp hair swept back like a shampoo commercial, whistling something suspiciously upbeat.

 “Y/N. Wilson,” he greeted smoothly.

“Barnes,” Sam said, staring like he was trying to burn a hole through his soul with his eyes.

You smiled. Just a regular smile. Harmless. No romantic undertones. Just two coworkers… being cordial.

Totally.

 “You know... I was asking Y/N here,” Sam said, still squinting, “about her suspiciously coordinated laundry schedule.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “Must be fate.”

You coughed, choking down a laugh.

Sam slammed his notebook shut with the kind of theatrical flair that screamed “I was born for this drama.”

“Enough. You think I’m not onto you. But I see things.”

Bucky raised a brow. “You seeing ghosts again?”

“I’m seeing clues, Barnes. Don’t play dumb. You two doing laundry together. The mugs. The vanishing act during last Tuesday’s debrief—twenty minutes. Both of you. Gone.”

You opened your mouth, searching for a reasonable explanation, but let’s be honest—this was Sam. There was no “reasonable” left. This man had turned your laundry schedule into a covert op.

You crossed your arms. “We went to get snacks.”

“Snacks,” Sam echoed flatly.

“Yes,” you said, trying to maintain dignity. “You know. Human food. Fuel. Chips. The sacred post-mission ritual.”

Sam’s expression didn’t change. “For twenty minutes.”

“There was a vending machine incident,” Bucky added smoothly, stepping closer, unbothered. “Y/N had a standoff with a bag of peanut M&Ms. It got intense.”

You rolled your eyes as Bucky leaned casually against the doorframe, looking way too smug for someone being accused of laundry-based espionage.

Sam was relentless. “You think this is a game? Because I’ve got spreadsheets. I’ve got charts. I have timestamps.”

“I’m flattered,” Bucky replied, folding his arms. “Didn’t realize I was your top case file.”

“You’re not,” Sam snapped. “You’re just the most suspicious.”

You shook your head, already backing toward the hallway. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go… do the thing. With the clothes. Like a normal human person.”

“Sure you are,” Sam muttered, squinting again like he was two seconds away from installing security cameras.

“Goodnight, Wilson,” Bucky said with a wink. And then—because of course—he followed you out.

“Hey!” Sam called. “This isn’t over!”

You didn’t turn around, but you did hear the sound of him furiously scribbling in that cursed notebook again.

You and Bucky sat side by side on top of the industrial dryer, the hum of the spinning machines filling the quiet room. A single overhead light flickered occasionally, casting a soft glow over the laundry baskets at your feet. The scent of fabric softener lingered in the warm air.

“He’s going to lose his mind,” you murmured, folding a hoodie with unnecessary precision.

“He already has,” Bucky said, smirking. “Tried to stick a tracker in my jacket this morning.”

You laughed, bumping your shoulder into his. “We should start leaving fake clues. Plant a puzzle piece under his pillow. Hang a tie in the garage.”

“I already put a sock in the fridge,” Bucky said casually, reaching over to pull a warm towel from the dryer.

You turned to look at him, mouth open in delight. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Red. Argyle. No explanation.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I love you.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “I know.”

You went quiet for a beat, letting the rhythm of the machines and the safe warmth between you fill the space. His knee rested against yours. The scent of his cologne barely clung to the edge of his freshly laundered shirt.

He reached for your hand, twining his fingers through yours beneath the basket of still-warm socks. “He’s getting close, though. We are getting pretty obvious.”

“You wanna stop?” you asked, turning toward him.

He looked at you—really looked. And it was all soft eyes, steady presence, and a patience you hadn’t known you needed until him.

“Not a chance.”

Bucky smiled, warm and easy, and pressed his forehead lightly to yours.

“So,” you whispered, “what are we going to do when Sam actually proves something?”

“We deny everything.”

You laughed. “Even under interrogation?”

“Especially under interrogation.”

One day, he’d prove it.

But not today.

Meanwhile in the living room, Sam was writing in his notebook. On the top of the page:

CASE #110: They’re DEFINITELY Dating. And beneath it, scrawled in increasingly frantic handwriting:

shared laundry = suspicious

“Coincidentally” always sitting next to each other

Y/N smiled at him like he invented air.

Bucky smiled back.

FRIDAY pinged softly. “Sir, your blood pressure is elevated.”

“Because there’s a LIE in this house, Friday!”

War was still on.

But as long as you had Bucky Barnes looking at you like you were his whole world?

You were definitely still winning.

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2

A/N: it's me again, hi. just wanted to say a big thank you for all the comments and feedback i've been getting from all of you. never thought that a one-shot could turn into a series with already SEVEN PARTS. anyway, just thank you all again. i hope you're liking where this is going. see you next chapter <3

next part

[arkadiastackie]

I grew up in a neighbourhood where, when your boys win, you win. 💘

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Trouble

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky first meets you, he thinks you're nothing but trouble. Eventually, it becomes a nickname you answer to.

Disclaimer: fluff with steamy moments at the end, enemies-ish to lovers, hint of fake dating as Bucky is Reader's wedding date, Bucky gets a little jealous, sharing a hotel room, reader works for Shield, Sam and Maria are mentioned to be engaged, swearing. Not fully proof read.

“Hey, Trouble.” 

You gave a short sigh, but kept the smile on your face. “Morning, Buck.”

Bucky had been calling you ‘Trouble’ since the first day he met you. Granted, having first met you, he thought you were trouble. You’d been inside a building they were surveying and he mistook you for one of the gang members he and Sam had been watching for the last three months. You’d given them the slip that evening, only to turn up in their Monday morning meeting. 

Hill had hired you. 

“Hill, she’s nothing but trouble. We caught her-”

“I know you did.”

Sam looked at his fiance. “And you’re still gonna hire her?”

Maria nodded with her arms folded across her chest. In honesty, it was more like a shrug before she turned to you. You’d been far too relaxed in your seat since Bucky had walked inside. Just another indicator that you were trouble. And you were smiling. Smirking? 

Maybe a bit of both. 

“I was a Fed.”

“You’re a Fed?”

You shook your head. “Was. Was a Fed.”

Maria continued for you. “She graduated first in her class in everything. Field work and academics, alike. Y/n has been on our radar for a while.”

Because you were trouble.

Bucky felt Sam nudge him. “Subtitles, Buck. You might not be saying anything but we can see it on your face. I can see it on your face.” 

Bucky just scowled more. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Credentials like hers don’t come across my desk too often these days. I wanted to see if she was the real deal so I sent her to tail you two.”

Both men did a double take of Maria and yourself. “Us?!”

You laughed a little at their surprise. “Yes, you. You know, for two of the world's best Avengers you are both terrible at being secretive. In the space of three days I’ve managed to find out your routines.”

“Three-” Sam’s words spat from his mouth. “Three days?! You’ve had her following us for three days?”

Maria shrugged, again. “Told you training was coming soon. Gotta find a way to keep you both of your toes.”

It was then Sam’s turn to scowl. He understood why, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Three days? He and Buck had been followed for three days by-by-by a, a what, a teeneger?

It was only when you replied, “I’m in my 20s.”, did Sam realise he’d said his question out loud. 

“You’re a fetus.” Bucky said before looking at you. Biologically, he might be in his 30s. But his birthday was over a hundred years ago. 

You just smiled at him. 

“Y/n’s gonna be joining your team.” 

“What?” Bucky asked, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned back to Maria. 

“Relax, Sergeant Barnes.” He looked back at you. “I’ll mostly be working alongside Captain Torres. As fun as field work can be, I’m a lot more useful to both of you behind a monitor. So, if you ever need anything hacking. Government secrets? Secret chambers? That dating profile Sam set up in your honour?” 

Nearly giving himself whiplash again, Bucky looked at Sam. And, as guiltless as he tried to look, he failed. He’d set him a dating profile up? When?!

“You just let me know,” you smiled.  “Am I free to go, Director?”

Maria nodded. “Bishop agreed to meet you outside your apartment to help you get settled in.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” Then you turned back to your new teammates. “See you boys on Wednesday.”

That had been almost three years ago. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Bucky to adopt your new nickname. Trouble. In the beginning, it had been because he thought that’s what you were; trouble. Bad news. But, after a while, you started to wear him down. 

It had taken a week for Sam to get used to you, and less than five minutes for Torres. He liked the way you kept “the grump” as you called him, on his toes. 

Eventually the nickname of Trouble moved away from hatred to a little more affectionate. It did take you entering field duty again without letting anyone know, saving both Bucky and Sam’s lives when they got cornered in a run down mansion out in the middle of nowhere. 

But never once had you forced a smile at the nickname. So, when you said “Morning, Buck.”, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He looked up from his clipboard, silently watching you for a moment. 

Even if your entire body wasn’t dripping with sweat as you continued to pummel the swinging punching bag in front of you, and even if your hair hadn’t been frizzing out from your rough ponytail as the back of your head; Bucky still would have known you were stressed. 

You never forced a smile around him. You’d been exasperated, tired, exhausted, angry, kind, loveable, happy, joyful, excited and every other emotion around him. But never once had you faked a smile around him. 

Around others? Sure. That was how he knew this one was fake. 

“Hold your horses.” Bucky said as he walked closer to you. 

You sighed, pulling your punches from the bag before finally standing still. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing-” You started, shaking your head. But he wasn’t biting. 

“No, not nothing. What’s going on? You’re glaring at the bag like it owes you six months rent. What’s going on?”

You sighed, completely exhausted. “Nothing, Buck. It’s fine. I swear.”

“Trouble?”

You looked at Bucky. 

For as long as you’d been alive, you’d been able to read people. Their inner thoughts, their deepest feelings. But nobody had ever been able to read you. 

Until Bucky. 

Sam tried his best, as did Torres. And, credit where credit is due, they did well. But that was only when you weren’t trying to hide it. A long day at work? A show ending the way you didn’t want it to? 

But days like this? 

You’d gone all week without letting people see. And you knew they couldn’t see. But Bucky? It was like he could see right into your soul. 

And it scared the crap outta you. 

“Bucky…” Your voice was soft, pleading for him not to dig. 

It took all of thirty seconds for him to look away from you, looking at the ceiling with a short sigh. “Alright, come on.”

Taking you by the shoulder, he stepped you away from the punching bag and hooked the clipboard under his arm before taking your wrapped hands into his. Then he started to unravel the bandages. He could already see the small bruises on your knuckles. 

“You’re gonna need to ice them.” 

He said nothing else as he unravelled your hands. Then, he took hold of one. He dropped the clipboard on the bench as he walked you both over to your gym bag before dropping your wraps into it. 

“Bucky-”

“Come with me.”

“Buck- Bucky.” You looked around you, confused as to why he was dragging you out of the gym. “James!”

He pulled you beside him before pressing a gentle hand on your lower back. 

“This feels like ‘The Quiet Man’. Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m getting you out of the compound.”

You almost started jogging beside him. “Okay, I get you’ve been trying to fire me since day one but you don’t actually have that authority.”

Well, at least you were still joking with him. Even if he had tried in the early stages, he hadn’t tried to get you fired in over two years. 

Eventually you stopped arguing, simply sighing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Whether he was gonna try and fire you, kidnap you or drag you to a church in Ireland to get married; it was better than staying in the compound, throwing punches hard enough to break the bag for a second time. 

Two hours later, Bucky’s motorbike was parked up in the dirt road behind you both as you sat beside each other, your legs hanging over the edge of the grassy hill. 

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked as you were half way through your food. 

You nodded, a lot calmer than you were back at the compound. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then after a beat, he spoke up again. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“I think the punching bag might disagree.”

Bucky watched as a smile flexed subtly on your face. But after a split second, it disappeared. Your shoulders, somehow, dropped lower and you shook your head. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

“I’m starting to regret showing you the movies you missed.” 

Bucky chuckled to himself quietly. Since you had become friends…kinda…you’d taken it upon yourself. Or rather, you and Joaquin, had taken it upon yourselves, with Sam’s help, to bring Bucky up to speed on everything he’d missed since being in the ice. 

It was on the nights when it was just you and him; maybe Sam was called away by his sister or his fiance, or Joaquin went to see his family. It was on those nights where you’d show Bucky the true classics. The ones he would have secretly loved if he’d gotten a chance to see them when they first got released. 

They were some of his favourite memories with you. 

Taking in a breath, you tried to work out in your head where the beginning was. 

“Work’s kinda taking its toll on me.” Finally admitting that outloud felt a lot easier than you’d thought it would. Bucky seemed to always have that effect on you. He made things easier. “I, uh, I’ve been asked to guest lecture at my old Training Academy and they keep trying to make me agree to a full time contract. The students apparently have learnt a lot and it makes their attendance records look better than they have done in years. Though, I’m pretty sure they only attended the lecture in the hopes that Joaquin would turn up again.”

Bucky just sat and listened to you as you looked out to the rest of the city. 

“I enjoy doing them, and I know the students like asking questions some of the teachers won’t answer directly. But between the missions, and the intel gathering. That’s taking me a lot longer than it used to, by the way and I hate it. I used to be able to crack open almost anything. But since tech development or whatever…criminals are a lot smarter than they used to be when it comes to their encryption.”

You took a few more breaths before continuing. 

“My family has been calling more and more recently, too. Don’t get me wrong. I-I love em’. But…” You let out a long breath. “It’s everyday. They’re asking for new information and I don’t have it. I’ve had a good day – that’s all I can say. I’m not dead. I spend my day going over lines and lines of data. What the fuck am I meant to say? And then I got an invite through my door last week inviting me to my cousin’s wedding and the phone calls from home have basically tripled. I’ve had to switch my answering machine off. They were filling it; have you got the invite yet? When are you gonna reply? You’re gonna be sitting next to your aunt from your dad’s side, you know I can’t stand that woman. Have you got your dress yet? Your dress is important, you need to look your best for the photos, Grandma will want ten copies, have you got a date yet? Do you need a date? Do you want me to ask your cousin if she has any single friends? Or maybe her fiance knows somebody? You can’t come to a wedding alone. Or maybe it’s best, that way we can help you find someone-”

Bucky laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, okay. Okay, breathe. Deep breaths.”

You took some more deep breaths. 

“It’s a never ending cycle, Buck. I-I go from one extreme to the other and…and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I love my family, but right now I can’t think of anything worse than flying home and seeing them right now. And, as much as I love my work, I’d rather wait before I see another line of data.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while. He just studied you. The way your shoulders fell, the way your true feelings and pure exhaustion took over your expression, the way your voice dropped from the hurried pace from earlier. 

“You’re burning yourself out.”

Now, you finally looked at him. 

“You need to take a break. Call Hill in the morning and tell her you’re taking two weeks. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” 

“But we’ve got-”

“The next mission won’t happen until next month. But you need a break. Y/n. And as for your family, what if I went with you?”

“What?”

“Take me as your date.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Bucky, you don’t-”

“What?” He leaned back, his expression teasing. “Too handsome?”

“It’s not that-”

“Too old?” Bucky gave a short gasp. “I gotta tell ya, that’s ageist.”

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Why not? You’re my friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

You smiled, softly. 

“Come on, what could go wrong?”

You nodded, slowly. “My family will meet you and never want to let you go, that’s what.”

Bucky just shrugged again. “Can’t help it. Mom’s love me.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And I’m telling you to take the offer.”

You remained silent as you kept your eyes on him. Bucky watched as you bit your bottom lip pensively, like you were running through every worse case scenario before getting to the good ones. 

“Come on,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Finally, you agreed. “Okay.”

For the next two weeks, you spent most of your time relaxing, completing the jobs in your apartment you’d ignored over time and dress shopping for the wedding that would be taking place in two months time. 

By the time you got back to work, things felt less like a tsunami being thrown over you and after the mission, a wedding with your family didn’t seem too terrible. 

“Do I have to wear a bow-tie?” Bucky called out from the hotel room as you remained in the bathroom, fixing your make-up. 

You’d left him twenty minutes ago to get dressed. 

“According to the invite, it’s compulsory.” 

You heard Bucky groan a little before swearing at what you gathered was either himself, the invite or the bow-tie. 

“Why couldn’t it be a normal tie?”

“Because my cousin loves the idea of Old Hollywood.”

“Technically, when I went into the ice it was just known as Hollywood. And we wore ties.”

You chuckled, putting your lipstick brush down before quickly blotting your lips twice. Throwing the tissue into the bin by the door, you walked out of the bathroom, around and around the corner and back into your shared hotel room. 

“Parts of culture have been lost to time sadly, so bow-ties it is,” you said as you came into view. “Come here. I’ll do it.”

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you in the mirror, but seeing the real you. Not the reflected version…that was something else entirely. The colour complimented you in a way he’d never seen before, and the way it hugged and draped on your body was making his mind think things that he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend and co-worker. 

You were stunningly gorgeous. 

As you stood in front of him, so close that if he leaned forward just a touch, he could press his lips to yours,  his senses becoming filled with you and his hands itched to touch you. To hold you by your waist or your hips, just to keep you standing so close to him. 

“There.” You leaned back a little before looking at him with that smile that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had made him weak at the knees since the first day he’d met you. 

With your hands braced on his shoulders, you turned him around to face the mirror. “You look handsome.”

It wasn’t a genuine compliment covered up by a joke. You weren’t teasing him. 

You were being genuinely honest. 

And you tried to ignore the way he looked at you and the feelings it gave you in your chest, but meeting his eyes in the mirror only seemed to make that feeling grow. 

You hadn’t missed the way Bucky had stopped as you entered the room and how it took him a moment before his body kicked back into gear in order to stand in front of you. But you tried to ignore what you were feeling at seeing him dressed the way he was. 

Often he was in henley t-shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his field uniform. So, seeing him all clean cut and in a tux was making you feel things. Since the henley’s were almost every day, you’d been able to, over the years, make yourself slightly immune to the feelings they gave you. 

But you’d never seen him in a tux. 

Even if you didn’t know he’d been in his 20s in the forties, seeing him dressed like this would have given you the feeling that he definitely had been in a past life. 

“We better go before we’re late.”

Bucky tried to find comprehensible words to say. The best he could come up with was, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t until the reception that he would finally be able to tell you how beautiful he found you. 

The wedding had been beautiful, every corner of the wedding venue being draped in silk. The dinner had gone off without a hitch. You and Bucky were seated together and despite the judgy comments from your aunt, Bucky held your hand throughout the entire thing, answering each question your aunt threw at him. 

And by the time people were invited onto the dance floor after the bride and groom, your aunt, happy with your choice of a date, nudged him to ask you to do as much. 

All he did was hold out his hand and looking from him, to the dance floor and back again, you took his hand. 

“I, uh, I don’t-” 

Bucky said nothing. With a light smirk on his face, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. Well, one of the things. 

Stepping into you, his hand firmly on your waist, he gently threw one of your hands to his shoulder before holding your other one firmly in his. 

“Okay.” Bucky heard you say quietly. 

His light smirk formed a small smile. “I might not know how to tie a bow-tie, but I do know how to dance.”

You nodded. “That. Is. Clear.”

You felt a little awkward, trying to keep your head away from the thoughts it was spilling into. 

Bucky chuckled and you felt his gravelly breath by the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, doll. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You did, eventually, manage to relax a little as the song bled on. And, just as it started to feel easy and natural to be held by him in this way, his words sent both your head and your heart into a spin. 

“You’re gorgeous, by the way.” You leaned your head back a little to look at him. Was he fucking with you? “Stunning.”

You were thankful the lights were dimmer than they had been at dinner. It gave you at least a little cover for the heat that overtook your cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Nothing else was said after that. You couldn’t keep looking at him, in fear that if you looked at him for too long, he’d be able to see right through you. 

So, with your temple resting against his, you let him lead you in a slow dance along with the rest of the couples. 

A little ways through the dance, you felt Bucky’s hand on your waist dip a little lower and onto your hip before moving to your back where you could feel his fingers softly trailing up and down your back against your dress. 

You felt yourself shiver at his touch. 

Bucky smirked a little by the shell of your ear. “Cold?”

When you spoke, your voice felt a little strangled to your ears. “No.”

You heard a small hum from his chest before he pulled you closer, or maybe you stepped closer to him, and his fingers softly continued to trail up and down. 

A few songs later, both you and Bucky sitting at a new table that your mother had dragged you to, you were asked to dance with someone your uncle had dragged over to meet you. And throughout your entire dance with the new guy, you just wished you were back in Bucky’s arms. 

However, as you danced, you failed to notice the way he was looking at you. But your cousin hadn’t. When Bucky’s eyes fell on you, he had a mixed look in them. Complete adoration and love, and that he could eat you alive. But when his eyes fell on the guy you were slightly awkwardly dancing with, a darker look took over. 

Jealousy. 

You’d told her that you’d be bringing a date, and from what your family had told her, your date was just a friend. But having watched both of you dance, and the way Bucky was looking at you…you certainly were not ‘just’ friends. 

And even if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. 

Then Bucky stood, carefully making his way over to you. And the look in your eyes when you spotted him making his way over…

Your cousin was certain the next wedding she would be attending would be yours.

“Mind me cutting in?”

The guy shook his head and stepped back, saying quiet words of kindness to you. But once you found yourself in Bucky’s arms, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thank you.”

“You looked like you had a stone in your shoes, trying to dance with him.”

“That’s kinda what it felt like. Glad to know I’ve got acting skills to fall back on if I ever want to quit. Or if you get me fired.”

“I’ll only get you fired if you start causing trouble, Trouble.”

A light smile appeared on your lips for a few seconds before you disappeared into his shoulder to hide your face from him. 

Two more dances and a conversation split between three different groups later, you were ready to go home. You said goodbye to your cousin, both you and Bucky complimenting her and the wedding before taking your leave. 

By the time you got back to the hotel, taking your heels off in the lobby, thankful to feel the cold marble floor beneath your feet, the clock was starting to reach midnight. 

Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the elevator. And where you both could have stood opposite each other, without thinking, he pulled you into his side. Both of you stood in the centre of the elevator, Bucky leaned over and pressed the button to your floor. 

In the silence, Bucky watching the numbers climb higher and higher, you took time to look at him. The shape of him, his jawline. He’d taken his jacket off and given it to you on the walk inside to the hotel. The bow-tie was now loose and around his neck. 

“You’re staring.”

For the first time that night, you didn’t look away from him. 

“Can’t help it.”

Bucky looked back at you just before the doors to the elevator rang open. There was a soft smirk resting on his lips. 

“Come on, Trouble.”

Leading you out of the elevator, you pulled the hotel room key from your purse before sliding it into the door. With a beep, the latch unlocked itself and you pushed the handle down and Bucky helped you push the door open. 

The entire room was quiet. The moonlight floated behind the soft curtains, lighting up a few spaces on the carpet. The room remained quiet as you and Bucky walked around before he opened up the two dividing doors that led to his bedroom. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the muscles in his back tense as he opened the two doors and walked inside. And, despite wishing to stay and watch the show of Bucky getting undressed, you moved towards your bathroom. Zipping down the side panel zip, you let the gown fall to the floor before you pulled the clean pajamas you’d left on the counter over your head and up your legs. 

Despite the hour, you and Bucky stayed up a little longer to talk. He was back in a henley shirt and some long plaid pajama bottoms. 

The same ones you’d bought him when you’d been his Secret Santa two years ago. 

Your make-up had long been washed away and you and Bucky spent at least forty minutes gossiping about what the third cousin on your mom’s side had been wearing in replace of a hat. 

Then you had to say your goodnights. 

Only, as he closed the dividing door behind him, you felt like something was missing. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted him…you wanted him to touch you the same way he had done on the dance floor, his voice gravelly by your ear, sending goosebumps across your body in a way nobody had ever done before. 

Little did you know, Bucky wanted the same. 

He could hear your footsteps on the carpet behind the door. The soft light from the lamp in your room shone under the door and he could see your shadow walking back and forth. Each time you walked back to the door, so did he. Only to then see it walk away, so he did the same. 

For the fifth time, you walked back towards Bucky’s door. Except, before you could walk back across the rest of your room, the door opened. 

And there he was. In the glow of moonlight from his own room, barely six feet from you. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just letting the silent conversation pass between you. 

“I don’t want tonight to end.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, or reword them. But you didn’t need to. If anyone understood you, it was Bucky. 

You didn’t know who moved first, but barely a second later, Bucky’s hands were pushing through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him closer before fisting his t-shirt. 

A moan vibrated from his chest as you pulled him closer, letting his kiss deepen. His finger ran through the lengths of your hair, gently pulling. 

As his steps carried him forward, yours carried you back until eventually he spun you, lifting you into his arms. Feeling your back secure against the wall, his hands supporting you, your body rocked against his hips as he leaned forward, driving your own further into the wall. 

You moaned a little as his tongue slipped past your lips and his fingers squeezed at your flesh. 

By the time you both woke up in the morning, breakfast had long been over, the sheets would be a completely tangled mess. And yourself and Bucky would be in a similar position; limbs tangled with one another's, heartbeats steady enough it could be mistaken for one, and the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down your spine. 

[multiversediaries]

LOVE BRUISES

⤷ BUCKY BARNES X READER

Summary: A passionate night with Bucky caused a painful cervix bruise. Now all healed up, your boyfriend is scared to hurt you again.

Warning: soft and very cute, domestic buck! mentions of sex, small smut!

Part count: 1/2

A/N: hope you all enjoy! i absolutely adore domestic buck <3 apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language :( i recently had eye surgery so my vision is a bit impaired! please do let me know of any grammatical mistakes!!

Your eyes widen at the intense pain you were currently feeling. A curse slipped from your lips, as you tried sitting on your shared bed. It was the day after an intense night with your long time boyfriend, Bucky Barnes.

Bucky could be rough at times, not that you hated it. In the contrary, you would find yourself begging the Winter Soldier to touch you, and pound you harder. But it seems like yesterday was too much for you to handle.

You made your way towards your bathroom, trying to continue on with your day. But the awful pain in your back and abdomen was driving you absolutely inside.

Samuel leaned back into his chair, staring at you, as you walked into the living room. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you were walking.

“You good?” Sam chuckled, crossing his arms infront of his chest. You shot him an annoyed look, shaking your head. You walked up to the couch, attempting to sit down without hurting yourself even more. “Rough night?” Sam teased you, raising an eyebrow at you. You snickered at him, knowing he probably heard you both last night. You remember how loud you were, not that your sore throat was any reminder.

“Too rough, it seems.” You replied, biting your lip. It was embarrassing to talk about this with Sam, but you were all so close to each other.

“No shit.” Sam laughed, throwing his head back whilst laughing still. You shook your head softly, furrowing your eyebrows, feeling a bit nauseous now. Sam’s laughter soon died down, as he saw your pained expression. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m fine! I swear.” You started, waving your arms in front of you, to try and stop Sam from panicking. “Bucky’s just… a big man, y’know? And we can get pretty… Let’s just say it was bound to happen.” You blushed at your own words. Bucky was much bigger than you, in height and built.

“I think I should get checked up, though. Pain’s pretty bad.” You continued, trying to change the conversation. You didn’t want to talk about your sex life to Bucky’s best friend. Sam sat up straight, biting his lip in worry.

“Shit, maybe he bruised you.” Sam said softly. This was probably it. It happens all the time, but this was your very first time experiencing something like this. You sighed softly, nodding your head.

“Do you mind distracting Buck while I go? Don’t want him to worry about this.” You asked.

“Oh, that ain’t gon’ work. Don’t you know the man?” Sam shook his head, knowing how overprotective Bucky was with you.

“Oh, come on, Sam. I won’t be long, just distract him—“

“Distract me from what?” You heard the man of the hour say softly. You closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip. Great. You slowly turned to look at him, staring at his serious expression. A smile instantly appeared in your lips, being so whipped for your boyfriend. His expression softened by your sweet face, now walking closer to you in the couch.

“Nothing. Just wanna get checked up really quick.” You said gently, trying to avoid certain words to prevent any worry from him. However, he knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew you were hiding something from him.

“Checked up? For what?”

“Oh, just—”

“She’s sore.” Sam started, your eyes widen quickly before quickly turning to look at Sam, your eyes begging him to shut up. “From last night.” He continued, and you couldn’t help but sigh, Bucky’s eyes widen, quickly meeting yours. He took in the sight of you, as if looking for discomfort and pain.

“What?— Did I hurt you, doll?” Bucky’s voice softened, his hands cupping your face, now kneeling in front of you. You could’ve sworn you almost melted into your seat.

“No, Buck, of course not!” You started, shaking your head, your hands laying on top of his in your face. You genuinely didn’t want him to worry or even worse, blame himself. You heard him sigh, knowing deep inside you were lying. He could feel your tense muscles; probably from the pain.

“I’ll take you to the clinic, okay?” He continued to softly speak to you. You sighed gently as his loving hands left your face to gently caress your thigh.

Cervical bruising.

God, it was extremely embarrasing to hear your doctor explain how to practice safe sex right in front of your long term partner. You remember how awkward the drive home was. Silent. Not uncomfortable, you could never be uncomfortable with Bucky, but you could just tell he felt terrible for overworking you that night.

Nights have passed awfully slow. You felt restless. Probably because your usually, very physically loving boyfriend rarely touched you. It was as if Bucky was somewhat scared of hurting you with his touch. Scared that a single caress could break you. The first nights, he even went as far as making a wall out of your extra pillows, just to be extra sure he wouldn't roll over you or embrace you at night. You ensured him it was not necessary, but after the advices of your doctor to hopefully ease your pain, Bucky was adamant to your safely and comfort. Bucky even went as far as getting you a heating pad, as your doctor explained how it would help with the pain. He just wanted you to be safe and healthy.

Bur you only craved the touch of your gentle soldier. For these endless couple of nights, Bucky would shower before bed, as usual, and hop into his side of the bed. He'd place a sweet, awfully short peck to your lips, roll on his side and fall asleep. It started to hurt your feelings how he seemed to rest so well without hugging you through the night. Soon enough, a couple of nights had passed since your small, and embarrassing injury. You felt as if you were going insane. You weren't only craving the sweet embrace of your man at night, you were also so incredibly horny.

You felt like a teenager, getting excited by the single sight of Bucky resetting his metal arm, or by the way his necklace would dangle over your face whenever he would help you to bed. It was the smallest things that would just get you going. You were currently watching as Sam and Bucky continued to fix Sam's family boat, standing by a pole, gently leaning on it. Bucky was wearing a short sleeve grey t-shirt, that accentuated his muscles perfectly. It brought butterflies to your stomach as Bucky noticed your frame, his attention now on his beautiful girl.

"Wait inside, baby. Don't want you to stand in the sun like that." Bucky spoke, a bit loud for you to hear. You smiled at him, shaking your head.

"It's okay! I'm a bit bored inside... Anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, actually! Grab that-"

"Sam." Bucky leaned over to softly slap Sam's chest. "No. She's supposed to be resting.' He continued, earning a small groan to leave your lips. Sam chuckled, raising his arms up in defense. Bucky wiped his greasy hands, walking towards you right after. "Doctor's orders." He said, his voice stern yet so incredibly loving, as if he were still worried. "I'll get you a chair, mhm? You can watch us or somethin." He mumbled, planting a sweet kiss to your cheek, before walking away. You let out a big sigh, closing your eyes in annoyance.

"Doctor's orders, he said." Sam mocked, a smirk in his face. A small grin appeared on your lips as you heard him mock your overprotecting boyfriend.

"I'm okay now. It happened almost two weeks ago and he's still..." You started, walking a bit closer to Sam. It was true. You felt all back to normal, and had been feeling this way for a few days now. No pain, no discomfort. You just felt needy.

"Y’know he's all intense like that." Sam said, offering you a small smile, while still working on the boar. You nodded, shrugging your shoulders. Bucky was just very overprotective over you, you knew this. It wasn't out of character for him to act this way. But now that you were all healed, you couldn't help but feel a bit bad, a bit unwanted even.

You spent the entire day, sitting, watching them work. Whenever you'd try to help, your sergeant of a boyfriend would order you back to your seat. You were only allowed to do small work, like hold their tools, which was exactly what you were doing right now. Here you stood, by the first floor of the boat, holding a screw driver as Bucky tried to fix the motor. You were so incredibly bored, but your mind was definitely active, dirty thoughts filling your mind. His grey shirt was now wet, and stained. It hugged his body even better than before.

"You okay, doll?" Bucky chuckled as he watched you, watching him. He had noticed a while ago, yet had decided to not mention it, loving your gaze on him. Your cheeks flushed, nodding your head.

"You look good." You simply said, your ears turning red. embarrassed by being caught staring. There was just so much tension between you, sexual tension.

"Yeah?" Bucky cockily asked, tilting his head, to follow your eyes as you tried hiding your flushed expression. He had even placed his tools down, now fully entertaining you. You nodded your head, now staring into his eyes, giggling softly. Your laugh died very quickly now swallowing hard as you took in how close he was.

His hands took their place in your hips. He felt you shake at his touch, noticing his effect on you. His face so close to yours, you could feel his breathing by your cheek. Bucky licked his lips, his eyes roaming your entire body, fully checking you out. His breath hitched, watching you be so visibly affected by him. It was so obvious how both of you were so deprived of one another.

You don't even remember who started the kiss. You just know your hands were now tangled in his soft hair, as Bucky devoured your mouth. There was no point in stopping the moans and whimpers that left your mouth, you were in pure bliss. Your tongues continued to explore each other's mouth, kissing passionately. Bucky would pull away for air, hissing in between kisses, genuinely feeling as if he were going insane. He was desperate. So desperate that his hands lifted you up, sitting you down on the same motor he had been trying to fix earlier. He now stood between your legs, his hands cupping your head, kissing you deeply and lovingly.

"Oh, baby..." Bucky whimpered once he pulled away for air yet again. Both your chests rising up and down, already exhausted by your very heated make out session. Bucky's hands ran ro your thighs, gently rubbing them continiously. His eyes were closed, and his forehead stayed glued to yours. Your eyes opened, missing the feeling of his lips on yours, needing more of him. You hummed, in confusion, yet Bucky's eyes stayed closed, wetting his lips. He seemed to be containing himself. His hands on your thighs now squeezing them, trying to calm him eager and lust down. You could simply tell he was holding back from loving you.

No.

You connected your lips yet again, grabbing ahold of his shirt, and crashing your lips together, where they belonged. You refused to go down without a fight. You refused to let him get away. A moan left his lips, his hands starting to run to your waist, needing to feel you yet again. It felt so good, so right. Your heads continued to tilt, allowing each other access ro just eat each other's lips. You remember his tongue brushing over your bottom lip, God, it was all so messy. Goosebumps cpvered your entire skin, this was his effect on you. This heaven of yours was adrumptedly interrupted yet again. Bucky has disconnected your lips, his hands now gripping your thighs yet again.

"Y/N..." his breath shuttered. God, he was so desperate and you knew this. You knew him like the back of your hand, and you could just tell by the way he refused to meet your eyes that he was holding back. You could tell by the way his body seemed to not want to obey his words, still caressing you.

"No, doll. We…” Buck tried saying, one of his hands now running through his face, as shaky breaths left his mouth. He was long gone. It was taking everything in him. “Shit, we can’t.”

"What?"

Bucky looked up to meet your eyes, his hands now on your waist, caressing your exposed skin with his thumbs. He sighed shakily, trying to get his breathing under control. He was scared to hurt you again. He was scared he'd lose control like he had done last tine, and hurt you. You gulped as you watched him, searching for a response in his face.

"Can hurt you again, baby. You haven't even healed."

"Bucky..." Your hands now laid on top of his. "I'm all healed up! I promise." You started, earning a few shakes of his head. "Yes, Buck. It hasn't hurt for a while now."

Bucky simply shook his head yet again. A big sigh left his lips, as he now hid his face in the comfort of the crook of your neck. Your arms carefully wrapped around his broad shoulders, feeling your loving boyfriend leave soft, wet kisses on your sweet skin. You couldn't stop yourself from shuttering at the gesture. Only after a few seconds, Bucky leaned back, pecking your red lips just one more time, before helping you down to your feet. He took a deep breath, and long look at you, before turning back to continue his work on the motor. The motor he almost took you on top of just now.

You frowned deeply, your head almost dropping in defeat. You put your hair in a ponytail, feeling hot after everything that had just happened. You wanted to be mad, really, you did. But how could you? When this man loved you so much he kept holding himself back in fears of possibly hurting you? You were just... upset. How would you convince this man of yours you had healed? and that he could never hurt you?

"I'm 'bout to come down." You both heard Sam announce from above. You both chuckled at Sam, shaking your head softly. Bucky grinned widely, watching as Sam came down the stairs cautiously.

“Why are you the way you are?” Bucky said between chuckles, grabbing a hold of his tools yet again.

"Y'all are forbidden from doin' it inside my family boat, I hope y'all know that." Sam mumbled, walking towards the both of you. Bucky snickered, softly hitting him in the shoulder. You laughed a bit, leaning back and watchihg them work.

Your mind soon went back to the same question...

How would you take those negative thoughts out of the mind of James Barnes? When would you feel the loving touch of your boyfriend again?

Fucking cervix bruise.

[simplyholl]

Desperate Measures

Summary: When you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Quinjet crash. Sex pollen. Smut. Slight choking. Brief fucking with a gun. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

You curse Nick Fury for what feels like the millionth time in the past three years. He had a "brilliant" idea, mission partners. When there was a world threat all of the Avengers would assemble. But when it came to smaller stuff like mobs, small Hydra threats, or robberies, he wanted just a few of you to take care of it.

Fury paired everyone based on their skills, their background, astrology, and other secret factors he wasn't willing to share. The idea came shortly after you joined the team, making an even number of people on the Avengers. You received copies of each other's files. You were supposed to spend most of your time with them at first to learn everything about them.

Fury wanted you to be able to almost read your mission partner's mind, to anticipate every move they made on the field. You should know them better than you know yourself. Which would have been great, except you got paired with Bucky Barnes, the former brainwashed assassin. He hated you, and you weren't even sure why. But the moment you met him, he was cold to you. He wasn't normally the friendliest anyways, but he had it out for you specifically.

He would smile and laugh with Steve and Sam. He was more guarded with the others, but he tolerated them, not you though. He fought with you all the time over nothing usually. So three years ago when Fury assigned you to be his mission partner, Bucky was furious. He complained to Fury, trying to switch. Fury immediately shot him down. He told him if he didn't like it, there was the door. After Steve talked to him, he begrudgingly accepted his fate.

You fought more often than not, an occurrence the other Avengers were used to. You’d argue the whole way on a mission. But when you were working together, you both could end your petty squabbles until it was completed. Then you’d be back at it the second it was over.

This time was no different. Bucky was flying the quinjet while you looked over a map of the Hydra facility you were going to. Your mission was simple. Break in, get the files, and get out. The building was located in Italy. You and Bucky both agreed once you got the files, you would part ways and explore the city. You were excited. The food, the culture, the men were all calling you. You packed a new dress just for the occasion.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the quinjet made a noise that made a shiver run up your spine. The lights on the dash started blinking rapidly. Beeping filled the jet as you looked to Bucky. “Not a fucking word.” He barked at you, his metal fingers frantically pressing buttons.

The jet started to spin in the air. Bucky cursed as he tried to steady the wheel. It was no use, you were going down. You sat straight up in your seat holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Of course, you would die with the person you hate most in the world. Karma was a bitch and you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this fate. The jet whipped around in the sky before plummeting to the ground.

After the initial shock wore off, you opened your eyes hesitantly. You must be dead. You hit way too hard and fell fast. The first thing you see is Bucky who quickly unbuckles himself and stands. Oh great, this must be hell. You’re gonna be stuck with him for all eternity. “Not that I’d have a problem with it, but if you don’t want to be here when the jet explodes, you better get out now.” Bucky tells you as he uses his metal hand to pry open a caved in wall and crawl out. You follow him with no hesitation.

Bucky walks a good distance away from the wreckage with you in tow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Nick Fury letting him know what happened. After a few minutes, he hangs up. “What did he say?” You ask hoping someone was on their way to get you. “Our coordinates show that we aren’t far from the Hydra facility. Fury said do the mission and he will have somewhere for us to spend the night when we are done. Someone will come get us tomorrow.”

“All our stuff is on the jet, are we not gonna get to go out like we planned?” You whined. You knew you were being selfish, but you had been dreaming of going out after the mission ever since you found out about it a month ago. Bucky shoots you a glare. “No, Princess. We aren’t going out after this.”

He rolls his eyes at you. You put your hands on your hips, pissed off at the nickname he calls you. “Princess” wouldn’t be a horrible nickname. But the way he used it made you furious. He said you were spoiled and bratty. So he had given you the nickname three years ago after you became mission partners.

He uses his phone to find the location of the Hydra facility. You followed him the whole time, flipping him off or making faces behind his back as he berated you for still wanting to go out. When you make it to your destination, Bucky turns around and gives you that signature glare. “If you don’t stop flipping me off and sticking your tongue out at me, I will break your fingers and rip out your tongue.”

Your heart dropped as you realized he knew what you had been up to the whole time. Before you could defend yourself, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you inside the building. He led the way through the dark. It was silent and it seemed like you were alone. You finally found the main computer. He stood guard as you pulled up the files and downloaded them to the device Fury gave you. When you were done, you shut down the computer and handed Bucky the device. He pocketed it and started walking toward the exit.

A loud siren started going off, blue lights flashed through the building. A chemical scent filled your nostrils. You look up to see red smoke descending from the ceiling. It was everywhere. You start to panic. It was probably some poison designed to kill whoever broke in here. Bucky was half way to the door when you finally realized you should move. You ran to him as he pulled on the door. “It’s locked.” He told you. Your heart beat faster as the red smoke slowly got closer to you.

Bucky started kicking the door until the wood splintered under his leather boots. You follow him to the front of the building, the red smoke almost face level with you now. He runs at the front door using his strength to break it down, but not before the smoke surrounded both of you. You both cough as it fills your lungs. He wraps his flesh hand around your arm, dragging you behind him.

You walk a good mile before you decide to speak up. “Was that poison?” You ask him, scared for what was to come. “How the hell should I know?” His hateful reply pissed you off. “I’m so angry that I’m gonna die with you of all people!”

“I’m not. I can’t wait to watch you take your last breath. I’ll fight to stay alive until you do. Then I can die peacefully.” You open your mouth to reply when his phone starts ringing. He answers it, telling who you presumed was Fury about the mission. He asked about the red smoke but it didn’t sound like Fury had the answers. When he hung up, he turned to you. “He sent me the location of the safe house. We are going to go there while Bruce and Tony try to figure out what the smoke was.”

When you arrive at the safe house, you’re actually impressed. Usually it would be some shack in the woods. But this was a nice house. It was clean, it smelled nice. Most importantly, the kitchen was full of ramen, canned food and water. You made dinner for the two of you, bringing him a bowl of ramen as he accepted a video call from Tony.

Tony was smiling so wide, his face looked like it might split in half. “I got good news and bad news, kiddos.” He waits a second before speaking again. “The good news is, you’re not going to die.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at that revelation. “The bad news is it was a sex drug.” Bucky and you look at each other, confusion on both of your faces. Tony bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna assume, you don’t know what I mean?” You both shake your heads as Tony continues. “Well, the sex drug enhances all your senses. You’re going to be horny if a breeze blows by. And it will be unbearable. You’ll feel like you’re going to die if you don’t have sex. And you will. The drug is designed to make your body so hot that a high fever will set in. It will boil your brain if you don’t have sex. Don’t bother touching yourselves, that won’t work. You have to sleep with someone to make the side effects go away.” Tony cackles as he looks at the shocked looks on your faces.

He looks at his watch. “You should have about an hour before it sets in. And probably four after that before it kills you. So good luck.” He laughs before hanging up. The silence between you and Bucky is filled with tension. Both of you unsure of what this situation will bring.

You finish your dinner without saying a word to each other. But you can’t take it anymore. “Do you think he’s right?” Bucky considers your question for a moment, his blue eyes focusing on you. “Yeah, he wouldn’t lie to us.” You take a deep breath. “We have about thirty minutes before we start to feel it. What are we gonna do?”

“Im going to take a shower and go to bed.” You look at him incredulously. “Bucky, he said we will die if we don’t have sex. There’s gotta be a bar around here or something. We can go out and find someone to sleep with.” You offer a reasonable solution. Bucky chuckles, “We are in the middle of nowhere. There’s no one around for miles. And I’m sure as hell not fucking you.” He spits the words at you like venom.

“I don’t want you anywhere near me. But we don’t have a choice.” You fire back, but Bucky ignores you, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. You go into the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom and take a shower too. You can feel your body start to heat up. You turn the water as cool as it can get. When you dry off, your skin is sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wet just from the towel touching you.

You look through the drawers, knowing that there was usually clothes in there just in case. You were so hot you were starting to feel like not putting any clothes on at all. But you settled on a thin, white tank top and a pair of red panties. Your hard nipples rubbed against the fabric of the tank top making you moan. You lay on the bed and check your phone. The symptoms were just now setting in, and you were already miserable.

You closed your eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe Bucky was onto something. If you could sleep through your death, it might not be so bad. But sleep never came. You tossed and turned, you touched yourself. But nothing would suppress the horrible ache between your thighs. Your panties were practically stuck to you, they were so soaked. You checked the time again, realizing you only had an hour and a half before your imminent demise.

You stand up on shaky legs and walk to the bedroom Bucky was in. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You knock on the door gently at first, but after a few minutes pass with no answer, you try the door handle. It’s locked. You beat your fists against the door. “Bucky let me in. I’ll do all the work. You can close your eyes, pretend I’m someone else. We can put bags on our heads. But I need you to fuck me right now.”

He opens the door, his long hair in a messy bun, his blue eyes dark with lust. He’s naked, his hard cock on full display. “Bucky, please. I know we hate each other, but we have to. I can’t take this.” He doesn’t say anything as he grabs you with his metal hand slinging you onto the bed. You gasp as your back hits the mattress. Bucky towers over you looking at your body hungrily. His gaze lingers on your breasts. Your nipples are so hard, you’re surprised they haven’t cut through your tank top.

“If we are doing this, we do it my way.” He grumbles. You just lay there, willing to do whatever he wants. He walks over to the nightstand, grabbing his pistol and walking back to you. “What are you doing with that?” You ask wide eyed. “Shut the fuck up.” He growls. You swallow hard as he brings the gun down over your torso.

He grips your tank top between his large hands and pulls. The rip of the fabric echoes through the silence. He moves above you, bringing his head to your breasts. He captures a nipple between his lips, pulling it with his teeth. You cry out as he soothes the pain with his tongue, lapping at it gently.

He jerks your panties down your legs, discarding them behind him. “God, Princess, you’re soaked.” He runs the muzzle of the pistol through your folds. The cold metal making you shiver. He positions it slightly, sliding the barrel into you with ease. “Bucky! What’s with the gun?” He smirks as he works the weapon in and out of you. “I don’t want to touch you yet.” He shrugs, maneuvering the barrel causing it to hit your g-spot. Your toes curl and you arch up off the bed.

Bucky grabs you back down, his vibranium arm laying across your stomach to hold you in place. He removes the pistol, looking at it in awe. It’s covered with you. His tongue darts out to lick your arousal off it. He moans as he sucks all of you off his weapon. “You taste so good, Princess.”

You gasp as he jerks your legs apart, fingers digging into your flesh. You’re dripping down your thighs, making it harder for him to keep hold of you. He lowers his head, lapping up your arousal from your thighs. When he finally makes it to where you need him most, he wastes no time. His lips and tongue feasting on you like he’s ravenous. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as he pulls a forceful orgasm out of you.

He stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Bucky is fully inside you with one forceful thrust. You gasp at the delicious stretch. “Fuck.” He whispers, a few loose strands of hair fall from his bun. You have to fight the urge to grab a piece between your fingers.

Bucky’s movements are erratic. He’s like a wild animal. He lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder, the new angle causes him to hit even deeper. You’re a mess, crying out his name, watching his face as he sets a brutal pace. The heat in your stomach becoming unbearable. You move your hips with him, matching his rhythm. He brings down his vibranium hand, touching over your chest before bringing it to your neck.

He squeezes lightly at first before adding more pressure. Your eyes roll back in your head. This was all too much. The way his big body pressed you against the mattress. The way he was looking at you. The way his vibranium hand was wrapped around your throat. How he fit so perfectly, it was like you were made to take him. You clench around him, causing his movements to falter. He is getting sloppy.

You wrap the leg not on his shoulder around his waist bringing him impossibly closer. You feel him spilling inside you sending you over the edge with him. He removes his hand from your neck, bringing it to your chin forcing you to look at him. “I hate you.” He whispers as he stills inside you. Bucky removes himself and stands between your legs. He gathers the cum dripping out of you with his middle and index fingers, forcing it back inside you. “I hate you too.” You say as your legs tremble from the intensity of it all.

Tags in the comments ❤️

[tea-writes19]

brother-in-law | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!parker!reader

summary: your brother peter tries to find you a boyfriend by posting an ad on instagram

warnings: swearing, fluff, suggestive content

a/n: my first smau + fic!!!! based on this fic by the lovely @pomegranatesarchive. fr it’s one of my fav smau’s and I don’t even follow f1😭

liked by mjjones, nedleeds, and others

peterparker: are you a young hot single in nyc? well meet y/n parker, my VERY single sister!! she enjoys cheap pizza, true crime, and long walks through central park! if you’re interested please comment down below…serious inquiries only!

view comments below

yourusername: peter wtf is this?!?

peterparker: I WANT A BROTHER! is that too much to ask for???

yourusername: NO!! JUST NO!! @/mayparker aunt may please take his phone!!

mayparker: sorry sweetie, but pete’s right. you’ve been really lonely and sad looking recently

yourusername: so the solution is to pimp me out?!?

peterparker: i will not be stopped

user1: i’m interested?

peterparker: no, too ugly

yourusername: PETER PLEASE

peterparker: i need them to at least look good in pics

mjjones: pete, y/n is going to kill you

yourusername: the bitch is hiding behind stark😡

peterparker: @/ me next time🤺

tonystark: please don’t drag me into this

user2: not bro literally selling his sister😭😭

user3: this is hilarious!

nedleeds: can you do this for me next?

peterparker: no you talk to people

user4: i’m interested!

peterparker: nah

yourusername: what’s the point if you’re just going to reject everyone?

peterparker: shhhh…let me work

yourusername: 🙄🙄

steverogers: what is happening?

peterparker: mr. america sir! are you interested?? y/n loves history! you’d be my first choice too!!

steverogers: uh no thanks…i’m too busy right now to think about dating

yourusername: not me getting rejected by CAPTAIN AMERICA in front of the world😭

user5: rip

user6: dude don’t you work with literal superheroes? ask them

user7: aren’t half of them married and in committed relationships?

user6: yeah but that still leaves the rest

user8: hey so this is insane!

user9: it’s kinda cute how much he cares about his sister

user9: weird too, but cute

peterparker: @/samwilson @/buckybarnes @/steverogers @/natasharomanoff @/joaquintorres @/mariahill @/wandamaximoff who’s interested?

mariahill: no thanks

samwilson: i’m good

steverogers: i already said no…

wandamaximoff: i’m dating vision so no

natasharomanoff: parker this is weird

joaquintorres: no thanks

yourusername: kill me now

user10: this was rough to read

user11: #savey/n from this torture

peterparker: okay, fine, i don’t care

tonystark: he cares

peterparker: on a completely different note @/buckybarnes i need help with a history essay. can you come over tomorrow?

buckybarnes: 👍

buckybarnes added to their story—>

[captain: what the fuck is a oligodendrocyte?]

story replies

steverogers: peter set you up didn’t he?

buckybarnes: he pulled the history essay thing

user12: omg is that y/n???

user13: peter’s post worked!?!

samwilson: man that kid got you good

liked by peterparker, buckybarnes, mjjones and others

yourusername: photo dump bc i graduate in a week!!!

view comments below

peterparker: no me?

yourusername: you lost post privileges after that stunt you pulled

peterparker: BUT IT WORKED OUT DIDN’T IT?!

user14: 👀👀👀

user15: who’s hand is that y/n!?!

user16: IS THAT ALPINE???

buckybarnes: the only person who can get alpine to cuddle

yourusername: i’m just chill like that😌

user17: HELLOOOO????

user18: fr like wdym peter was successful??

yourusername added to their story—>

[caption: 💐🤭]

story replies

user17: omg omg omg

user18: AHHHHHHHH

mjjones: peter is fangirling

liked by buckybarnes, mayparker, pepperpotts and others

yourusername: i graduated college!!!

view comments below

buckybarnes: congrats doll <3

yourusername: love you🫶🏻🫶🏻

user19: DOLL!?!?

user20: EVERYBODY STAY CALM IT’S HAPPENING

mayparker: so proud of you y/n!!!

yourusername: couldn’t have done it without you!!!

pepperpotts: congratulations y/n!

yourusername: thank you!!

user21: omg congrats!

user22: i feel like a proud parent rn🥹

peterparker: my favorite college grad

yourusername: bootlicker😐

peterparker: i take it back

peterparker: you’re the worst🖕

yourusername: love you too petey

tonystark: congrats kid

yourusername: thanks…now give me a job

tonystark: get better taste in men first

buckybarnes: that’s fair

steverogers: BUCKY

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

thank you for reading <3

[ailoda]

updated: 09.03.25

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! 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)

new! 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)

new! 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)

new! 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)

new! Beach Day (✘): beach day with some of the Avengers turns into a little private time with Bucky. (@crowsofdarkness)

[rkiveinmarvel]

(Y/N): Yeah, don't go falling in love with me, Barnes. Bucky: You? That won't be a problem. -- A few weeks later Bucky: Steve, I have a problem.

[hanaridulsetcheese]

Eyes On You ~ Bucky Barnes

warning : contains 18+ content

The clang of weights hitting the floor echoed through the Avengers compound gym, rhythmic and sharp. You had wandered in with the innocent intent of grabbing your water bottle left behind after yesterday’s run but that plan was immediately derailed when you saw him.

Bucky Barnes. In all his sweaty, grunting, post-serum glory.

He was at the cable machine, tugging down on the ropes with a force that made the muscles in his back ripple beneath the tight fabric of his grey shirt. You didn’t even realize you’d stopped moving, lips slightly parted, as your eyes travelled down the way his shirt clung to every ridge of his sculpted back. The fabric strained over his shoulders, and a small patch near his shoulder blades was already darkened with sweat.

You bit your lip.

“Like what you see, doll?”

Your heart practically jumped out of your chest. His voice was teasing, low, with just enough amusement to make your stomach twist. Your eyes snapped to the mirror in front of him, catching his smirking reflection.

Busted.

“I wasn’t-” You sputtered, clutching your water bottle like it could protect your dignity.

Bucky turned, slow and smooth, towel slung over one shoulder. His hair was tied back in a messy bun, a few strands clinging to his temple from the heat. That damn smirk was still playing on his lips.

“You weren’t what? Admiring the view?” he asked, walking toward you with maddening confidence. “Because, sweetheart, if you’re going to stare, at least be brave enough to own it.”

You crossed your arms, half-defensive, half trying to control your blushing. “I was just… impressed. That’s all.”

“Impressed?” He stopped in front of you, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “With what, exactly?”

You looked away. “Your back, okay? Your muscles. They were…moving. And it looked hot.”

Bucky grinned like a cat that just caught its prey. “Moving? Damn, that’s what does it for you?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “All this time, and I didn’t know you were a sucker for back muscles. Should’ve turned around more often.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let your grin take over your face. “Don’t get cocky, Barnes.”

“Too late, sweetheart.” He reached past you, brushing your arm just a little too intentionally as he grabbed his water bottle. “You know, if you ask nicely, I’ll let you touch.”

You blinked. “Touch?”

“My back.” He winked. “Might even take my shirt off, since we both know you’re dying to see it without the fabric in the way.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real venom.

“And you’re drooling.”

You smacked his arm, the flesh one, because you weren’t brave enough for vibranium. He just laughed, the sound low and rich. He leaned down a little, his lips close to your ear.

“Next time you want to stare, just come closer. I don’t bit.” he paused, his breath hot on your ear, “Unless you ask nicely.”

Your face flamed, and he just chuckled again as he walked away, muscles still flexing beneath his damn shirt, leaving you flustered, frustrated, and definitely ready for the next gym day. You weren’t going to let Bucky have the last word. Not after he caught you staring at his back like a thirsty teenager and then practically purred in your ear about it.

No, no. This called for revenge. Well-earned revenge.

So, the next day you dressed for the gym with a plan: tight leggings, a cropped tank top, and a sports bra that was just supportive enough to survive a workout but still left a little bounce in your step. You waited until Bucky was deep into his routine, heavy lifting, shirt already discarded, glistening with sweat like the universe had personally decided to test your patience.

You didn’t stare this time. Not openly.

You strutted past him, headphones in, pretending you didn’t notice him but oh, you noticed. And you made sure that he noticed you.

Bent just a little too slowly to stretch. Arched your back just a bit more during lunges and when he looked your way because of course he did you shot him a knowing smile like ‘You’re not the only one who can play this game, Barnes.’

Sure enough, after a few minutes, you heard a weight drop a little too loudly behind you. You smirked to yourself.

“Really, doll?” His voice was lower than usual, maybe a little breathless. “You think you’re slick?”

You turned slowly, pulling one earbud out. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Bucky gave you that look, the one that was half-amused, half-ready-to-devour. “You’ve been wiggling that ass like a metronome for twenty minutes.”

You feigned innocence. “Maybe I was just working out. It is a gym, you know.”

He stepped closer, sweaty, shirtless, and very much unimpressed by your act. “That stretch you did? You looked me dead in the eye while arching like a damn yoga instructor in heat.”

You tilted your head, biting your lip. “Oh, you mean like how you caught me staring and then spent an entire workout flexing like it was a performance?”

His grin slowly widened. “You really want to play this game?”

“I think I’m winning it.”

Suddenly, his hand was on your waist, fingers brushing just under the hem of your crop top. His voice dropped to a growl. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re going to make me forget we’re in public.”

You leaned in, lips brushing just shy of his ear. “That’s the point.”

He exhaled sharply. “You’re evil.”

You smiled sweetly. “No, I’m motivated.”

There was a long pause where your eyes locked, breathing shallow and tension thick then Bucky muttered “We’re finishing this. Not here. Tonight. Your place.”

You grinned, smug and victorious, and whispered back, “Bring the back muscles.”

He smirked. “Only if you promise to keep staring.”

Muscle Memory

You barely had time to light a candle before there was a knock at your apartment door.

He was there. Bucky. Leaning against your doorframe in a black hoodie and joggers that did nothing to hide the way his body moved. Hair still damp from a post-workout shower, stubble sharp, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.

“You said bring the back muscles,” he drawled, stepping in without waiting for an invitation. “Hope you’re ready for full access.”

You arched a brow. “That was fast.”

“You’ve been teasing me for two days.” He shut the door behind him. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept adjusting your leggings just so I’d look. Evil, I told you.”

You smirked. “And yet you’re here.”

He stepped closer until your back hit the wall, and his hands came up to cage you in, bracing on either side of your head. “Oh, I’m very here.”

You didn’t even have time to bite back a retort before his lips were on yours, hot, demanding, and so much rougher than you expected. His metal hand gripped your hip, pulling you flush against him while the flesh one slid under your shirt, slowly dragging upward.

“You want the shirt off?” he murmured against your lips, teasing. “I know how much you like the view.”

You tugged at the hem. “Take it off before I rip it.”

He chuckled, stepping back just enough to peel it off in one smooth motion. And there it was, those back muscles, bare now, broad and defined and utterly, sinfully beautiful. You ran your fingers across his shoulder blades, dragging your nails down slowly.

Bucky shuddered. “Shit. You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

“Every time you picked up a dumbbell.”

He laughed, but it turned into a groan when you leaned in and kissed his shoulder, biting softly just above the muscle.

“Oh, you're a problem, doll.”

“And you’re a reward for good behaviour.”

His hands were under your thighs in an instant, lifting you like you weighed nothing and carrying you to the couch. He hovered over you, gaze drinking you in like he was memorizing the moment.

“I’m going to make you say it.” he murmured. “That I’m your favourite view.” His lips were on yours again, rough, greedy, like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he’d admit. You barely registered the way he lowered you to the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist, the heat between you both rising with every hungry press of his mouth.

“You already are.” you whispered, nails already in his back again.

He growled, lips ghosting down your jaw. “Still thinking about my back muscles?” he rasped, grinding down against you. The hard line of him pressed between your thighs, and he smirked when he felt you arch into it.

You tugged at his hair, breathless. “They’re even better up close.”

He kissed down your neck, tongue flicking out to tease the skin just before he sank his teeth into your shoulder not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp.

“I want you to remember this next time you walk past the gym like you’re not going to stop and drool.”

“You’re so cocky.” you breathed.

“And you’re soaking.” he growled.

Your leggings were gone before you could blink, tugged down and tossed aside like they offended him. Then his fingers were brushing over your underwear, teasing the damp fabric with slow, deliberate strokes that had your hips lifting off the cushions.

“You’ve been this wet for how long?” he asked, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Since the gym? Or since I showed up at your door?”

“Since yesterday,” you gasped. “You knew what you were doing.”

He chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I did.” With one strong swipe, your panties were gone, torn with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to use a vibranium hand.

“Oops,” he murmured innocently, then slid two fingers through your folds, slow and agonizing. “God, you feel even better than I imagined.”

You were about to sass him back, but then his mouth replaced his fingers. Hot, relentless, tongue curling around your clit until you were clutching his hair and biting your lip hard enough to leave a mark.

“Bucky- ” you gasped.

“Say my name again like that,” he groaned, looking up at you with those dark, ruined eyes. “Say it when I’m inside you.”

You pulled him up, impatient, desperate, tugging at the waistband of his joggers. He was already pushing them down, revealing that he hadn’t bothered with boxers. Of course. Cock hard, flushed, and thick, he stroked himself once before lining up at your entrance.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

You met his eyes, voice low. “I want everything.”

That was all he needed.

He slid in deep, stretching you, filling you and you moaned into his shoulder as he bottomed out. He paused just a second, letting you adjust, then started to move.

Slow at first. Teasing. Until your nails dug into his back again.

Then he snapped.

His pace turned punishing, driving into you hard and deep, like he was trying to prove a point with every thrust. Your body rocked with every motion, breath hitching, thighs trembling around him.

“You feel that?” he grunted in your ear. “That’s what you’ve been begging for with those little looks. That’s what you earned.”

You could barely respond, moans spilling from your lips like he’d knocked every word from your brain. All you could do was hold on and ride every wave he gave you.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” he murmured, thumb circling your clit. “Come all over this cock you were so busy staring at.”

And you did, body arching, back curling, vision flashing white as your orgasm tore through you. Bucky followed with a deep groan, burying himself fully, head dropped to your shoulder as he pulsed inside you.

Silence.

Then, a breathless laugh from him. “Still impressed by the muscles?”

You grinned weakly. “Next time, I’m staring harder.”

Ride or Die

You were still catching your breath when Bucky leaned back against the couch, looking sinfully smug, naked, glistening, arms stretched along the top cushions like some Greek god built for wrecking your life.

“You good, sweetheart?” he teased, lips curling. “Did I ruin you a little?”

You straddled his lap before he could blink, palms flat on his chest, pinning him where he sat. “Oh, baby,” you purred. “You think you did something?”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I know I did.”

You rolled your hips slowly against him, teasing both of you. His cock twitched between you, not even fully soft, like his body knew the game wasn’t over.

“You want to talk confidence?” you murmured, leaning in to kiss just below his jaw. “Let me show you what happens when I take control.”

Bucky groaned, eyes fluttering shut as you gripped him and lined him up again. He was still slick from the first round, sliding in slowly as you sank down on him. Inch by inch until he filled you completely.

“Fuck,” he hissed, head falling back. “You tryna kill me?”

You rolled your hips in a slow circle, hands planted firmly on his chest, nails lightly scratching down the muscle. “You can take it, soldier.”

His hands flew to your thighs, gripping them hard, trying to urge you faster but you held your pace slow, torturous, grinding down in a rhythm that had him begging now.

“You’re evil,” he muttered. “This is worse than the gym teasing.”

You grinned, bouncing a little harder now, letting the sound of skin slapping skin echo through the room. “You like it.”

“I fucking love it.” he groaned, bucking up into you.

But you grabbed both his wrists and pinned them back to the couch, smirking down at him. “Nope. You’re staying right there. Watch me.”

And he did. His eyes locked on yours, blown wide, almost desperate as you rode him slow and deep, making sure he felt everything. You clenched around him just to hear him curse. Dropped your hips down hard just to see that vein in his neck twitch.

“Look at you,” you breathed. “All those muscles, all that strength and I’ve got you melting under me.”

“Fuck, please,” he groaned. “Let me touch you.”

You leaned down and whispered against his lips, “Earn it.”

His mouth crashed into yours hot, messy, full of desperation. And that’s when you gave in, letting him grip your ass, guide your movements, thrust up into you as you bounced harder and faster, both of you chasing that edge again.

When you came, it was wild and raw. Your nails digging into his shoulders, your whole body shaking. Bucky followed seconds later, gasping your name like a prayer as he came deep inside you again.

You collapsed against him, both of you panting, sweating, utterly wrecked.

After a long beat, he nuzzled your neck. “You win.”

You smirked into his shoulder. “Damn right I do.”

[fanficgirl429]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Prompt: Y/N and Bucky are always arguing but underneath the arguing there is something more.

---

The safehouse was quiet, save for the scratch of Y/N’s boot across the floor as she paced in tight, agitated circles. Sam sat on the worn couch, nursing a coffee, watching her with an amused expression.

“You’re gonna wear a trench in the tile,” he said.

Y/N didn’t look up. “Then maybe someone will finally fix the plumbing while they’re at it.”

Before Sam could respond, the door opened with a low creak.

Heavy boots. A leather jacket. A glint of metal. Blue eyes. 

Y/N stopped pacing but her heart began to beat faster. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

“Good to see you too,” Bucky Barnes said flatly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. 

Y/N’s eyes swept over him before she could stop herself.

His hair was shorter than the last time she’d seen him, the scruffy length replaced by something neater, sharper—but it didn’t make him look any less like trouble. If anything, it made the angles of his face more striking, the steel in his eyes harder to ignore.

He wore a pair of dark blue jeans that fit him a little too well, paired with a simple gray t-shirt that stretched just enough across his chest to be distracting. Over it, the familiar dark leather jacket—worn at the edges, like it had seen more than its share of nights just like this one.

Still him. Still Bucky. A little more tired. A little more unreadable. Still ridiculously, unfairly good-looking.

Sam groaned, standing on the opposite side of the room, already knowing what was about to take place. “Here we go…”

Y/N crossed her arms, eyes narrowing like she’d just been handed a punishment rather than a mission. “I thought you were off brooding in Brooklyn or whatever it is you do when you’re not starting bar fights.”

“I got a call,” Bucky replied, jaw already tight like it physically pained him to be in the same room. “Didn’t realize you’d be here, or else I would’ve said no.”

Y/N blinked slowly, unamused. “Aw, and here I thought you missed glowering at me across the room.”

Sam raised both hands, already regretting life. “Okay. Ground rules—no stabbing, no sniping, no snide comments, no killing each other.”

Y/N and Bucky immediately replied, deadpan and in perfect sync: “Then they have to leave.”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, I miss Steve.”

Bucky smirked. “He wouldn’t have let her talk to me like that.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back. “Steve was team me the second I showed him how to do a proper disarm.”

“You cheated” Bucky gritted. “You used pepper spray.”

“It was tactical.”

“It was petty.”

“It worked.”

Sam muttered under his breath, “I swear I’m too old for this.”

Y/N turned to him, innocent. “What? We’re just catching up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky added dryly. “You know, bonding.”

“If by bonding you mean barely tolerating each other’s existence,” Sam mumbled. “Sure. Great. Love that for us.”

Y/N smirked. “Oh, c’mon, Barnes. Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me.”

He shot her a look. “Like a rash.”

“Like an itch you can’t quite reach?” she teased, stepping just a little closer.

“Like a headache that talks back.”

Y/N clutched her chest dramatically. “You do care.”

“I’m praying for an excuse to leave.”

Sam muttered something about regretting all his life choices and walked into the kitchen, leaving Y/N and Bucky staring at each other, the tension in the room thick.

---

Later that day, the three of them were staking out a suspected Flag Smasher hideout—Bucky in the alley, Y/N on the rooftop, Sam above them both in the drone.

“Your comms are off again,” Y/N said through gritted teeth.

Bucky’s voice crackled back. “Maybe I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

She huffed. “God forbid someone try to help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You keep saying that. I keep not believing it.”

He sighed heavily. “Look, I’ve been doing this long before you started playing sidekick to Sam—”

“Excuse me?” she snapped.

“You heard me.”

There was a tense silence over the line before Y/N muttered, “You’re impossible.”

“And you never shut up.”

“You never smile.”

“You never stop talking long enough to make me want to,” Bucky snapped. 

Sam’s voice crackled in: “I swear to God, if you two don’t start flirting with less hostility, I’m going to crash this drone.”

---

There were moments—small, unspoken ones—that carried more weight than any argument ever could. Something neither Y/N nor Bucky dare speak of out loud. 

Like when Y/N stumbled during a chase, her footing lost for just a split second—and Bucky was already there. His hand on the small of her back like it belonged there, steady and sure. She stiffened, spine straightening as she glanced at him with a flicker of defiance. “I’m fine,” she said, brushing it off like it didn’t matter but in reality her heart was pounding. Not from almost falling but from the placement of his hand- afraid to admit she liked it. 

He didn’t move, not right away. His hand lingered—just long enough to say everything he didn’t. “I know,” he murmured, low and steady.

Or the night she’d fallen asleep at the table, exhaustion pulling her under while intel files lay all around her. Bucky had watched her for a moment, then eased the tablet from her fingers with more care than most people gave breakable things. He draped his jacket over her shoulders—soft, worn, and carrying the faint scent of him—without a word.

Then there was the time she caught him staring. She’d felt it first, like warmth on the back of her neck, and when she turned, there he was—blue eyes locked on her like she was something worth memorizing. He looked away too quickly, but it was too late.

She’d seen it and had already begun to feel the same way.

---

The tension between them finally snapped, unraveling in the aftermath of a mission gone sideways.

The safehouse was dim, still humming with adrenaline and silence too loud to ignore. The echo of gunfire clung to Y/N’s skin like smoke, and Bucky’s jacket was still spattered with dirt and blood that wasn’t his.

“You almost got yourself killed!” she exploded, her voice sharp as she began pacing, hands clenched at her sides. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I had it under control,” Bucky growled back, arms folded tightly across his chest. 

“No, you didn’t! You jumped in front of that guy like—like your life doesn’t matter!”

He stood slowly, deliberately, tension rippling through his shoulders. “And what? You care now?”

Y/N stopped mid-step. Her breath hitched.

“I see how you look at me,” he said, quieter now. “Like I’m a grenade that hasn’t gone off yet.”

She laughed, bitter and breathless. “You think that’s it? You think I argue with you because I’m scared of you?” Her voice cracked as she stepped closer to him. “You don’t scare me, Bucky. You never have.”

He froze, surprised—caught off guard by the softness buried beneath her anger.

“I argue with you,” she continued, more gently now, “because you make me insane. Because you throw yourself into danger like you’ve got nothing to lose. Because you act like you’re not allowed to matter to anyone.”

His jaw twitched. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“So what?” he asked finally, voice low, unsteady. “You’re saying you care about me now?”

“Yes!” she shouted, exasperated. “You stubborn, reckless idiot.”

Bucky just stared at her, stunned into silence.

She broke eye contact, running a hand through her hair with a shaky breath. “God, I didn’t want to feel anything for you. I told myself you were a headache, a pain in the ass, someone I had to put up with. But somewhere between the death glares and the brooding... I started to see you.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I realized I care. And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

A beat passed. Then another.

Bucky stepped forward, slow and cautious. 

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” he murmured. “Just… don’t take it back.”

Y/N met his eyes again. For once, she didn’t have a comeback. Just silence, and the distance between them—closing inch by inch.

Then, softly, Bucky said, “I care about you too.”

Y/N turned to him.

“I just... don’t always know how to show it,” he added.

She stepped closer. “Try.”

And he did.

---

The kiss wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t all heat and urgency or cinematic sparks.

It was something quieter—gentler. A moment that didn’t demand attention but deserved it, soft and grounding in all the ways neither of them expected.

His metal hand hovered just above her hip, uncertain, trembling with the weight of hesitation and history. Like he was afraid to touch something too good, too real.

But his other hand—his human one—was surer. It cradled her cheek with aching tenderness, calloused thumb brushing her skin.

She leaned into the touch before she could think better of it, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N smirked faintly. “That wasn’t terrible.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. “You never shut up, do you?”

“Not unless you kiss me again.”

He did.

[tinyshyteacup]

• Words of Command •

Tw: Cussing, angst, mentions of blood and grime.

Words of Command - Part 1

The lobby of Stark Tower gleamed with too much glass and not enough warmth for your taste. Sunlight pooled through the towering windows, hitting the polished marble floors and refracting off the chrome detailing of the modern decor.

You sat behind the main reception desk, perched on a tall stool with your legs swinging slightly.

The desk itself was a sleek black curve, embedded with holographic displays and a touchpad that still didn’t always respond when you tapped it with freshly moisturized fingers.

A nameplate identified you only by your first name, the letters tastefully etched in a clean serif font.

At the moment, you were staring at the printer behind you like it had personally offended you. It made a soft whirring noise—then stopped.

A flicker of smoke puffed up from the feeder tray. You yelped.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., I swear, I didn’t even touch it this time!”

"Miss, respectfully, you did attempt to print a double-sided image from an incompatible file format.”

You scowled at the ceiling. “You’re not even here physically. How would you know?”

“I am connected to over 2,000 sensors in this room. Shall I list the ones currently monitoring your error?”

“Rude,” you muttered, grabbing the paper that had jammed mid-print.

You shook it like it was a bad dog chewing your shoes. “This is sabotage. You're trying to make me look bad in front of Mr Stark.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Stark has been made aware of your printer challenges. He found it... 'endearing.’”

Your cheeks flushed.

The sarcasm was biting, but the thought that Tony Stark had discussed you at all—even mockingly—made your stomach flutter in a way you weren’t proud of.

The lobby doors hissed open with that smooth mechanical slide, and you looked up automatically.

When Captain Rogers walked into a room, it was like watching someone pull the '40s into the present. He was tall, and looked slightly rumpled in civilian clothes—a dark blue hoodie stretched over broad shoulders and a plain T-shirt underneath.

He wore jeans like he didn't know what to do with them.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice gentle but somehow carrying in the echoey lobby. “You’re the receptionist, right, the wizz with phones ?”

You nodded quickly and smiled. “Y-Yes, Captain Rogers. Morning.”

He returned the smile, slower, steadier, as if trying to ease your nervous energy. “Please, call me Steve.”

Right. Like that would help.

You stood, still barely reaching his chest, and smoothed down the front of your cardigan. “What can I help you with?”

He stepped up to the desk, pulled something from the pocket of his jeans, and placed it on the counter. A Stark-Phone. One of the newer ones Stark had issued.

You tilted your head, eyebrows lifting.

“I, uh…” Steve scratched the back of his neck, clearly sheepish. “I pressed something and now it’s speaking Korean. I think.”

You gently picked up the phone and pressed the home button. “Oh. You activated the language cycle shortcut. Happens if you triple tap the lock screen.”

You tapped through the settings with practiced ease. “There. Back to English.”

Steve watched you like you were performing magic. “I don’t know how any of you keep up with this tech.”

You smiled softly, meeting his gaze with more courage this time. “Honestly? I mostly argue with the printer. J.A.R.V.I.S. does everything else.”

Steve chuckled, a warm, earnest sound that made your heart thump faster. “Well, you seem to be holding your own.”

As he turned to leave, he paused. “I like your necklace, by the way. It suits you.”

You looked down, brushing a finger across the tiny pendant resting at your collarbone. “Oh. Thank you. It was my grandmother’s.”

He nodded like that meant something to him.

“Thanks,” he says, when you’re done. Then adds, almost sheepishly, “It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m going to throw a shield at them.”

You laugh nervously. “You’re... not that scary.”

His grin is warm, boyish. You find yourself smiling back, unexpectedly grounded.

The elevator dings, and in breezes Tony Stark like a whirlwind in thousand-dollar shoes.

He’s on a call, two steps ahead of his own thoughts, sunglasses on indoors because of course they are.

"Yeah, just tell Fury he can bite me. In Morse code. Bye."

Phone snapped off, sunglasses up, and he zeroes in on you. “Sweetheart. You jammed the printer again.”

“I did not jam the printer,” you say quickly. “Jarvis is just being dramatic.”

“Jarvis is always dramatic, but in this case? He’s right.”

Tony leans on the desk, eyes squinting slightly. “Do you intentionally make the tech hate you? Is this like your rebellion arc Thumbelina? First it's the printer, then you’re reprogramming him to swear in Gaelic.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you murmur, looking down. Then pause. “Wait... JARVIS can swear?”

Tony smirks. “Atta girl. Knew there was a fire in there somewhere.”

He straightens up, hands in pockets, a half-laugh escaping him as he walks toward the elevator. “Keep her, Rogers!” he shouts over his shoulder. “She’s the only one who’s not afraid to talk back to Jarvis.”

You blink.

Captain Rogers is still standing a few feet away, watching the exchange with something between amusement and... curiosity.

Maybe even admiration.

The city never sleeps, but it sighs in the early hours of morning—hushed traffic, glimmering reflections on wet pavement, a lull between the pulse of nightlife and the rise of commuters.

Neon lights flicker overhead, buzzing faintly, casting long shadows that cling to him like a second skin.

He moves like he’s not sure he’s real.

Each footfall is heavy but hesitant, like the ground might reject him. His hair is a tangled mess, matted and unwashed, sticking to his face and jaw.

The stubble on his cheeks is rough, uneven, and clings to him like dirt. His clothes are soaked in sweat, grime, and old blood—some of it his, some of it not.

His left arm is bare and gleaming beneath a tattered coat sleeve, metal fingers twitching involuntarily, as though searching for a rifle that isn’t there.

He doesn’t remember where he’s been.

Only fragments, screams, commands in harsh syllables, red flashing lights. A corridor. Restraints. Cold.

Oh God that biting cold.

He walks past windows and glass doors, catching glimpses of himself in reflections—a shadow, a haunted smear of what used to be a man.

He doesn’t know his name.

Not truly.

Not right now.

But somewhere, deep under the static in his brain, there’s something.

Maybe he had a name.

And then he looks up.

It rises above him like a monument, gleaming even in the grey blue of pre-dawn. STARK in large, defiant letters. The light at the top pulses. He stops walking, just… stands there.

His breath fogs the cold air, erratic.

His chest heaves, ribs visible through the threadbare shirt beneath the jacket. His boots are worn to the sole.

Everything about him screams survival, but there’s a flicker in his eyes now—recognition.

Stark.

Mission report.

Howard.

December.

Blood.

Sixteen.

Comply.

1991.

Zimniy Soldat.

Soldat.

The words slam into him like gunfire, and he stumbles forward, metal hand clenching hard enough to groan under its own pressure.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He only knows the building is important.

And maybe... maybe someone inside can make the noise stop.

The automatic doors whisper open, parting slowly to let him step into the warmth of Stark Tower’s front lobby. Inside, the polished floors shine, reflecting the subtle glow of the early-morning lighting.

The scent of fresh polish, faint coffee, and recycled air fills the space. It’s clean. Too clean. Sterile like a medical wing, like some place where experiments happened.

He hesitates in the doorway.

The light overhead flickers slightly, casting a quick stutter of shadow across his face—an echo of something dark beneath the skin.

You stand behind the front desk, holding your phone in one hand, uncertain. His body is massive in the entrance, his shoulders squared like a soldier preparing for a threat. That left arm, slick and inhuman, gleams under the overhead light, fingers twitching like they have a mind of their own.

He takes two steps forward.

You don’t move, but your fingers close slowly around the base of your mug—some deep instinct reaching for something solid, something real.

"Hi… I—I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here," you say softly, trying not to let the nervous quiver in your voice show.

He tilts his head.

Not sharply. Not mechanically. Like a man trying to understand.

His lips part. You can tell it’s painful. His throat works around something—speech, maybe, or just the ghost of it. His voice comes like gravel, dry and shredded.

“Pomohgeet-yeh…"  Help.

Your brows knit. You don’t understand the words. But the way he says them makes your chest hurt.

He tries again.

“Gde… eta?"  Where… is this?

The effort it takes him to speak is visible.

He trembles.

Not with fear, but exhaustion. His whole body is strung tight like a stretched wire, ready to snap. One wrong move and he could bolt. Or lash out. Or break down.

You hold both hands up in that gentle, universal please-don’t-run gesture. “I—I don’t know what you’re saying. But I want to help. I can call someone. Or—I can get Mr. Stark if you want, or—”

At the name, something sharp flickers behind his eyes.

Stark.

He flinches like you’ve slapped him.

Suddenly, he shifts—too fast. That metal arm raises slightly, just a fraction. You freeze. Not because you think he’s going to hurt you—but because for a moment, he doesn’t look like a man anymore.

He looks like a ghost wrapped in combat training, forged in violence.

His eyes dart around the lobby—scanning exits, angles, security cameras.

His stance changes subtly, weight shifting onto the balls of his feet, as though he’s ready to take someone down.

And you—you’re just standing there.

He opens his mouth again, lips cracked and barely moving.

“Ne khochu… drat’sya." I don’t want… to fight.

You still don’t understand the words.

But you understand the tone.

Soft. Strained. Pleading.

“uh-huh,” you whisper.

You take a slow step around the desk. Not too close. But enough that he can see your hands, see your face.

You keep your voice low. “You look like you need help. Food? Water?”

He doesn’t answer. But his eyes track your hand as you slowly lift your bottle and offer it to him.

He reaches for it with his metal hand—but stops. There’s shame in the hesitation.

Holy Shit, is that metal ?

The faintest flicker of emotion across his dirt-streaked face. He switches to his right hand and takes it.

He drinks.

Not quickly. Like every swallow might be a mistake. Like he doesn’t trust it not to hurt.

As he drinks, you take him in quietly.

He looks... wrong in this space. The marble floor, the sleek design, the soft hum of Jarvis’ systems in the walls—it makes him look like something out of time. Like a soldier in a museum.

And then it hits you.

There’s something familiar about him. Not just the metal arm. Not just the way he looked at the building. But something in the jawline. The eyes.

You move slowly back to your desk, heart thudding as you open a file of security images.

"Who are you?" you whisper to yourself.

He doesn't answer.

He just watches you.

You move quietly to the comm panel, still keeping one eye on the man sitting stiffly in the chair near the lobby’s edge.

Tony had given you a comms piece to use in emergencies, is this a emergency ?

Stranger, built like a fridge, with a metal arm ?

Definitely.

The stranger in question hasn’t spoken since you gave him the bottle of water. His fingers—bare and bruised on one hand, cold steel on the other—grip it like it might disappear. He hasn’t drunk again. Just stares at the wall like he's trying to make sense of what a wall is.

Your voice is hushed as you speak into the receiver.

“Captain Rogers? I—I’m sorry to bother you. But there’s someone in the lobby. A man. I don’t know who he is, but I think… I think you should come down ... please.”

You don’t say that he’s filthy, trembling, starved.

You don’t say you’re afraid of how quiet he is.

You don’t say that even Jarvis, hasn’t spoken a word since he arrived.

As though the building itself is holding its breath.

You hear him before you see him—the heavy, purposeful footfalls of combat boots against tile. The automatic doors open with a whoosh, and Captain Steve Rogers steps into the lobby like a storm arriving with restraint.

He stops dead in his tracks.

You watch the expression on his face collapse.

From soldier to friend.

From Avenger to broken-hearted brother.

“...Bucky?” he breathes.

The name falls into the room like a thunderclap.

But the man in the chair doesn’t flinch.

Doesn’t even look up.

“Bucky,” Steve tries again, stepping forward slowly, cautiously, as though any sudden movement might spook him.

The man’s eyes track Steve—but only briefly. Recognition doesn’t register.

No emotion flickers. Just calculation.

The Winter Soldier, watches Steve Rogers like he’s a possible threat. Like a target.

You step back instinctively, not out of fear, but because the air has changed. Thickened.

Like the moment before a fight. Or before someone remembers something too painful to hold.

Steve is trying. You can see it.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s Steve. Steve Rogers. Brooklyn. 40s. We grew up together.” His voice cracks.

But there’s nothing behind those eyes. Not the kind of nothing that comes from confusion.

The kind that’s been scraped clean.

Programmed.

Buried.

The man’s body tenses. A tic in the jaw. A breath held too long.

His fingers flex on the water bottle, crack—plastic gives under his grip.

Then, that guttural voice “Ne znayu tebya." I don’t know you.

Steve flinches. Not physically. Not visibly.

But you feel the break.

He kneels in front of him, ignoring the metal arm, the set jaw, the violence in his posture. His voice lowers to a whisper, so raw and aching it doesn't feel meant for anyone else to hear.

“I thought I lost you. I never stopped looking.”

The soldier’s gaze doesn’t soften.

His eyes scan Steve like he’s a file to be decrypted. A puzzle, not a person.

He shifts in the chair.

Not toward Steve—but away. Just a few inches. Enough to feel like a rejection.

The lobby is quiet again. Bucky? Or The soldier?—or the shell of him—sits in the corner like a statue draped in rags. His posture stiff, eyes half-lidded but never soft.

Like a soldier awaiting deployment, tension simmering beneath his skin.

Steve touches your arm gently and gestures toward the hallway off the reception desk. His voice is low, heavy with something that feels like grief soaked in guilt.

“That’s Bucky,” he says. “James Barnes. We grew up together. He enlisted before me.”

You blink up at him, trying to marry the image of the blank, cold-eyed man in the lobby with the idea of someone’s best friend.

Steve swallows hard. “But… that’s not who he is now. Hydra got to him. They—”

He stops. The words taste wrong in his mouth.

“They erased him. Broke him down and rebuilt him into something else. A ghost with a gun. They called him ‘The Winter Soldier.’”

A pause. His jaw tightens.

“They didn’t use his name. They called him Soldat." Steve whispers, making sure only you hear.

You murmur the word aloud without thinking, testing it, you feel disgust claw at your spine at the idea of someone being stripped so bare.

“Soldat…?”

The sound barely leaves your lips. Just a sound.

But across the lobby—the man moves.

Fast.

Sudden.

Mechanical.

The chair clatters backwards as he rises in one sharp, fluid motion. Spine straight, feet planted.

His metal arm clenches, whirring softly. His eyes, once clouded with the fog of confusion, snap into unnatural focus.

Like a trigger has been pulled.

His gaze lands on you.

Not Steve.

You.

Then, in that same guttural, rasping Russian:

“Gotov k vypolneniyu." Ready to comply.

Your heart lurches. You don’t know what he said—but the tone tells you enough.

Cold.

Obedient.

Trained.

Steve steps forward sharply, hand raised. “Bucky—no! She’s not—”

But Bucky isn’t listening. His head turns ever so slightly toward you, chin dipped in rigid respect, but eyes locked like a weapon sighting a command post.

Then, another word in Russian.

“Rukovoditel’" Handler.

Shit. SHIT

You freeze, mouth slightly open, eyes wide as you stare at the man before you.

He’s taller than you by what feels like a foot, broad-shouldered and imposing, hair tangled, blood on his temple not yet dried. But it’s not his appearance that terrifies you.

It’s how still he is now. How controlled. How conditioned.

Like someone flipped a switch inside him.

Steve’s hand is on your shoulder suddenly, protective, grounding.

“He thinks you’re his handler,” Steve says softly. His voice is tight, like he’s struggling to remain calm. “Hydra trained him to respond to words 'Soldat' must have triggered it.”

You glance at the Soldier—and feel a cold chill crawl down your spine.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just waits.

As if he’s expecting you to give him an order.

You whisper, almost afraid of your own voice, “What do I do?”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t give him commands. Don’t say anything that sounds like one. We’ll get Bruce or Tony down here, maybe they can—”

The sound of polished leather shoes and the hiss of elevator doors heralds Tony Stark’s arrival.

He strides into the lobby like he owns every inch of it—which, of course, he does. A tailored charcoal suit, sunglasses he doesn’t need indoors, and a cup of coffee he’s already bored with. His tone, dry as ever.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Tin Man himself.”

Tony stops a few paces from the soldier, surveying him like a potential weapon. Or worse, a ticking bomb.

“You gonna sing ‘If I Only Had a Brain,’ or…?”

No response.

The Soldier—still as a statue—doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just stands in that unnatural way. Tense. Straight-backed. Alert. His metal hand twitches faintly at his side, barely noticeable unless you’re watching for it.

And you definitely are now.

You stand just behind Steve, hands clasped nervously in front of you like you’re trying to shrink into the floor. But you feel the weight of his stare. Not Tony’s. Not Steve’s.

His.

The Soldier.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, are pinned on you.

Tony raises an eyebrow and leans toward Steve. “So this is the guy you were willing to punch me in the face over?” He eyes the torn tactical gear and matted hair. “Charming.”

Steve doesn’t rise to the bait. His voice is firm but quiet. “He’s not well. Hydra programmed him. We think he… believes she's his handler”

Tony turns toward you, glancing you up and down, not rudely, just… curious. “She gets winded carrying a bag of flour.”

You open your mouth to protest, but then The Soldier moves.

Not toward Tony.

Not toward Steve.

Just… a slight shift. He angles his body protectively between you and Stark.

And then he speaks. Russian again.

“Rukovoditel"

His voice is hoarse, barely a growl.

Tony snorts. “Let me guess. That means ‘fearless leader’?”

Steve sighs. “It means ‘handler.’ I told you Tony, he thinks she’s his handler.”

Tony takes off his sunglasses, eyes narrowing. “Oh, great. We’ve got a murder machine who’s latched onto Thumbelina.”

He turns back to The Soldier, then tries his best Stark-brand sarcasm. “Hey, RoboCop. You like shawarma? Puppies? The Bee Gees?”

The Soldier doesn’t react.

His gaze stays locked on you. Like Stark isn’t even in the room.

“Gotov k vypolneniyu" Ready to comply.

Tony paces a bit, muttering to himself.

“Okay, okay… Steve brings in a half-feral Hydra brain bomb who only listens to the human equivalent of a cupcake, and I’m just supposed to—what—build him a bunkbed?”

Steve steps between them, voice low and serious. “He’s not dangerous to her. You saw that.”

“Oh yeah, I saw it,” Tony shoots back. “Saw him zero in on her like a guided missile with a crush. Only she’s not trained. She doesn’t even speak Russian. What happens if she says the wrong thing?”

You flinch a little at that, the weight of it finally settling in your chest.

Tony softens for a half-second. Just a breath. His eyes flick to you. “No offense. I’m sure you’re a lovely hostage.”

Then, toward The Soldier again. “You got anything else in that scrambled brain of yours? English? Stark tech? The weather?”

The Soldier’s only movement is the subtle tightening of his jaw. The slight widening of his stance—defensive. Watching Tony too closely now. Like he’s assessing threat levels.

But then… his eyes return to you.

You whisper, half to yourself, “He’s waiting.”

Tony raises a brow. “For what?”

You shrug helplessly. “An order. I think.”

The lobby feels heavier. Like a suspended moment, stretched too tight.

Tony watches the two of you, something calculative slipping into his expression.

“This is a problem,” he murmurs. “Because if she’s his focus, and we can’t get through to him otherwise—he’s not just broken. He’s tethered.”

Steve crosses his arms. “Then we don’t break the tether. We use it. Let her anchor him.”

Tony scoffs. “Oh, sure. Let’s just traumatize a receptionist, make her the sole translator for Hydra’s favorite murder puppet. What could go wrong?”

But even he can’t ignore the truth, the Winter Soldier isn’t reacting to threats, or commands, or charm.

Only you.

Fuck.

[arkadiastackie]

sam & bucky are just a better duo than steve & bucky ever were. you either get it or you don’t

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Early Morning

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky helps you after a nightmare.

Disclaimer: Mostly smut with plot. MDNI 18+. Fluff, a little angst, Reader is an ex winter soldier experiment, too. Flashbacks to reader meeting Bucky (not the WS). Swearing, unprotected P-in-V (wrap it up), established relationship, caring Bucky, mentions of nightmares, Bucky holds/cuddles reader. Not proof read. Again, 18+.

Your breathing laboured, you shot up in bed. 

There was next to no light inside the room, but you could still make out the pile of clothes thrown over the back of your desk chair wasn’t a monster haunting your room. 

Then you felt a hand at the bottom of your back. For a moment, you jumped before you realised who the hand belonged to. 

“You okay?”

You scrubbed your face and nodded. Then he slowly sat up with you. His hands rubbing your back before his lips tiredly kissed your shoulders. He leaned against you, his cheek pressing his lingering kiss deeper into your skin. 

“Talk to me. What happened?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

You could only nod. 

“Tell me?”

“Same as usual.” 

Your voice came out quiet, an invisible heavy weight pushing your shoulders down. 

You’d been found by Bucky and Sam almost five years ago. Having been one of the last people to be put through a Winter Soldier, you were one of the few to survive. And you’d been surviving alone until that day in the abandoned factory. 

From there, you had been put through some more trials. From being locked up in a ‘comfortable’ cell, realising just who Bucky was and when you’d met him before to going through new training that meant you were becoming a new Shield Agent. 

And somewhere in the last five years, you and Bucky had found common ground and eventually a friendship that had bloomed into something more. 

“Come here.” 

Rubbing one of his hands up and down your back, he gently led you to lie back down beside him. He held you close to him, his grip tightening around you. You felt his legs slot and tangle between yours before his lips pressed against your head. 

With his hand skating across your thigh, he pulled you over his hip before letting his fingers push under the back of your top to let his fingers trace up and down your spine. 

Within seconds, your senses were consumed by him. 

Bucky felt you take in a deep breath before you finally relaxed in his arms. 

“Feeling better?”

You nodded with a little hum. “‘Little.”

Bucky just held you tighter. 

By the time you woke back up again, your position hadn’t changed much save for the fact that your back was now against Bucky’s chest. 

You could feel his breath, even and soft against your back, calming you even more. 

There have been times where you’d let your mind wander. What if you had met Bucky, as he was now, under different circumstances? Maybe you’d gone to MIT, or Harvard or one of those places before joining Shield. Maybe you would have bumped into him in the lunch line, or in the hallway. Maybe he would have asked you on a date, or maybe you would have asked it. 

Maybe it would have been conventional. 

Unlike how you’d come to meet this version of Bucky. 

“Do you think she remembers you?”

You just stared at the ceiling inside the cell you’d been placed in. They’d given you a mattress and blankets for the slick metal bed, but you’d pulled them to the ground before you laid down, letting the cold metal cool you down. 

Sam and Bucky had been standing on the other side of the reflective glass, talking to each other. They were yet to know you could hear every word they were saying despite the speakers being disconnected. 

“Sargent Jame Buchannan Barnes of the 107th.”  You’d said his name slowly, almost repeating it as if you’d been saying it your entire life. 

Eventually, Sam left once you gave them your name. As he went to search through every database he could think of, Bucky stayed and turned the reflective screen off. You’d walked over calmly, answering every question he had. 

Did you remember him? 

“I remember you from…before.”

Where did you come from?

“Winter Soldier programme. I woke up somewhere in Europe. I just kept walking until I recognised a name.”

And where did you come from…before?

You told him everything he wanted to know. You’d spent so long keeping secrets, seeing where the world was going…

Anything was better than being sent back into the Winter Soldier programme. And if Bucky could get out, then so could you. 

After going through more tests than you could count, having more needles pricked into your skin than you’d like, and after extensive psych-evals from multiple different professionals, you were cleared to work. 

Under strict supervision. 

And that came from both Shield and Bucky. He’d been in the programme himself, so he knew what to look for when things got bad. For a few of the appointments where he’d watched through the glass, seeing the hidden pain on your face as the fortieth test was done on your blood, he entered the room and held onto your hand. 

During training hours when he could see the memories flooding back when you pushed yourself a little too far, he would tap you out and make you walk around the building with him. He never had to say anything. Just knowing someone was there was enough for you. 

Eventually, those silent moments added up to small and trusting conversations. Then one day, things began to change. You talked more, felt happier more often, found not only friends but family. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Slowly, you turned over and looked at Bucky. 

“Better.”

You felt Bucky’s lift softly brush a kiss over your nose before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. He felt your hand cup his cheek, keeping his lips kissing yours for a little longer. 

“I love you.”

Bucky smiled, kissing you again. “I love you, too.”

Leaning back in again, he pressed a soft kiss onto your lips. But you didn’t want it to end. There was just something about Bucky’s kiss. The way his lips pressed against yours, as if he’d been kissing you his entire life. 

And it had been that way since the first time he kissed you. 

You’d both spent the entire day in the training room since it had been the first place Kate had looked for both of you to help train the new recruits from Shield. The last time she’d asked you both for help, you were both left stranded and swore an oath to each other that you’d never do it again. 

So, rather than run around the entire compound all day, you remained in the one place Kate wouldn’t look again. 

But instead of pushing yourselves to the limits, you both had fun. 

Sparring with each other, you both laughed. Falling to the ground, talking, laughing, reminiscing, planning. You often spent time like that, together. But you both never got a chance to simply have fun. 

But it was as you were lying underneath him, wondering what would happen if you pulled at his dog tags in those moments and finally answered your year long question; what would it feel like if he kissed you?

The door just outside of the training room creaked open. 

Scampering to your feet, Bucky grabbed your hand and you both raced out of the back exit. 

However, as you heard the doors creak again, you pulled Bucky around a corner. And once everything fell silent, only then did you both realise the position you were in. His knee wedged between your legs, his hands caging you in by your hips and your hands fisting his t-shirt. 

Between hitched breaths and pounding hearts, Bucky kissed you. 

Neither of you had expected it and when the kiss broke in order for both of you to catch your breath, it was safe to say you were both surprised. 

But as the shock faded away, being replaced by a desperate desire to feel his kiss on your lips again, his hands became tousled in your hair as you pulled him closer by his dog tags. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathed before he moved to kiss you again. 

And that’s what it was still like. 

Bucky’s hands ghosted down your body before pulling your leg over his hip. Surprising him, you pushed yourself up until you were straddling his thighs. Like he’d done a thousand times before, he pulled your top from your body and over your head before throwing it across the room. His hands held you closer, feeling your skin against his chest. 

Feeling his bulge grow beneath you, you rocked your hips over him. His grip on you tightened as he groaned. 

“Holy fuck,” his voice was gravelly as he moved his lips from yours to the softness of your neck. “Baby-”

With his fingers squeezing your flesh softly, his hand moved from under your ass to the front of your body before dipping under the waistband of your shorts. 

“So wet already-” 

His teeth scraped lightly at your pulse point, no doubt eventually leaving a hickey you’d find in a few hours. 

A moan became muffled against his lips as you bucked your hips against his hand. Then his fingers began to steadily circle your clit. 

You gasped. “Keep - keep going.” You closed your eyes as you leaned your head against his. “Fuck.”

“Always,” Bucky nipped at your jaw. “So,” nip. “Ready,” nip. “For me.”

You gasped again, and Bucky smiled as he watched the shock and pleasure take over your body and face as he inserted two fingers, curling them inside of you. 

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Bucky slurred as he watched you. 

It wasn’t long until your own fingers drifted down his front, palming his dick through the cloth of his underwear until finally letting him free from the restriction. 

By the time the tip of his cock was strumming through your juices, your legs had already begun to shake. 

“Bucky, please.”

“Always so polite,” Bucky teased before once again watching your face as you took him in. 

You felt your back arch as his cock stretched you and his hand pushed up your front. His thumb flicking at your nipple before he took you into his mouth for a moment, you moaned his name. 

“So fucking hot…”

Having been the Winter Soldier, Bucky could never get drunk. But he was drunk on you. 

“Fuck, doll.” Bucky moaned into your neck as his hand squeezed at your ass, holding you down on him. “‘Feels so fucking..good…fuck.”

Teasing him a little, you began drawing lazy circles with your hips. Your shared breath became ragged as your skin took on a light sheen just as Bucky’s tongue traces lines across your collarbone. 

Finding your weak spot, he began to suck. 

He could feel your hand in his hair, your nails raking on his scalp. 

Eventually the noises went from sensual to down right animalistic. Begging and pleading before finally, with his fingers applying a delicious pressure onto your clit, Bucky felt your walls tighten around his cock as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

Breathless, you felt yourself smile as you leaned down towards his ear. “I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Baby-”

“Please, Buck.”

He didn’t need to be asked again. With his fingers teasing your overstimulated clit, you felt Bucky finally cum inside of you. It wasn’t often you had him go without protection, so it was rare you ever got to feel him. 

A shower and two hours later, you were both sitting eating breakfast at the table in the kitchen. “You wanna talk about last night?”

You shrugged, pushing the blueberries around on your plate. “Not much has changed. Still trapped inside my own body, still hurting people.”

“How long has it been since the last one?”

One thing about your nightmares was that it was rare to become a night terror. You didn’t exactly wake up screaming and panting for breath. But sometimes, the silent ones were the worst kind. Because they continued to play on your mind. So vivid and so real.  

“Couple of months,” you told him, truthfully. 

“Sam text this morning. Said he’s gonna come round later. Apparently he wants to test Red Wing’s new features out on the back fields.”

“And you said yes?” You asked, hiding your smile. You knew your boyfriend’s reputation with Red Wing. They weren’t exactly the best of friends. 

“I think maybe you should talk with Sam.”

You nodded. “I will.”

You’d been given qualified doctors over the years and a lot of them had helped. But sometimes the best person to talk to was someone who knew what you were going through. And, as much as Bucky knew what you were going through; the one person who helped get through to him was Sam. 

Bucky watched you for a few moments before he reached over and hooked his hand under the edge of your chair. “Come here,” he said as he pulled you closer. 

You could feel yourself blush with a little giddiness as he pulled you closer to him across the table before his hand rested on your bare thigh. 

Then he kissed you. 

“I love you,” he told you. 

“I love you, too,” you replied. 

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper Masterlist

Started: 4/14/25

Last Updated: 5/7/25 - Ongoing

☆Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader ☆ A doctor, taken from your lab where you study degenerative muscular diseases, find yourself trapped and charged with caring for a living weapon. Terrified for yours and your family's safety, you must work to appease your captors and care for a man who seems haunted beyond words. And as time goes on, you begin to learn just how human the man really is.

Warnings: Graphic Violence. Angst. Description of Torture. Description of Wounds. Weapons. Heavy Angst. Slow Burn. Intimacy. Sexual Content. Smut. The Winter Soldier.

18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Phase One

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Phase Two

Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29

Phase Three

Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41

Unconnected to the main series, but in the same universe -

Soldat

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader | Angst | 18+ ☆The reader knew her soft hearted connection to her unwilling patient would become a tool her captors used against her. So, after escaping captivity only to find the soldier waiting in her motel room to retrieve her, she shouldn't have been shocked.

The Soldat's Touch

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Ex Doctor!Reader | Smut- Sexual content | 18+ MDNI ☆ You were once a doctor under Hydra's influence. Now you have your life back, but you see The Winter Soldier everywhere. And tonight, you just can't turn him away.

A/N: Enjoy! Please be kind!

[yikesdrama]

We left them at “I love you Buddy” so how are we suddenly at “I already did (talk to Sam), it went poorly”

sir, what the actual fuck happened?? I WANT ANSWERS!!!

— Thunderbolts*

[xhazzz]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barnes Headcanons

warnings: fluff, sexual references, bucky being a big baby

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong:)

masterlist || requests are open

- He’s totally into reality shows. Because of his insomnia and the constant nightmares that haunt him, sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he kisses your forehead and tucks you in before leaving his room. He just sits on the couch, watching TV with the volume as low as possible, hoping it’ll lull him back to sleep. Since he’s an old man who still hasn’t quite figured out how streaming platforms work, his only option is to watch reruns of MasterChef, Love Island, or Hell’s Kitchen. Obviously, this wouldn’t help him sleep—he’d end up completely hooked instead.

- As part of his therapy—something he was forced into by Steve, the rest of the Avengers, the government, and you—he started writing in a small notebook he could carry everywhere (just like Steve). He wrote about his nightmares, memories of his life before becoming the Winter Soldier, but his favorite thing to write about was you. He’d write about how beautiful you are, how safe you make him feel, and how grateful he is to have met you.

- Going grocery shopping with Bucky is an experience in itself. Even though it’s become a regular thing since meeting you and going out together, he never stops being amazed by the endless aisles, the new products, and everything you can find in stores. He was used to small corner shops with basic products from the ‘40s, so now, one of his favorite activities is walking down the Oreo aisle every time you go shopping and trying a new flavor.

- A few months into your relationship, Bucky knew he wanted to spend every single day with you. Even though he had started staying over at your apartment a few nights a week, it wasn’t enough for him. One day, Sam asked why he didn’t just ask you to move in with him. Bucky, completely shocked by the suggestion, said he thought it was way too soon to be thinking about marriage—he didn’t want you to feel pressured. Sam just laughed and told him that moving in together was something a lot of couples did nowadays, simply living together before marriage. “We’re not in the ‘40s anymore, old man.”

- Bucky would definitely buy you flowers just because. At first, he thought it was a bit old-fashioned, but after seeing the look of happiness on your face the first time he gave you a small bouquet, he made it a habit. Every chance he gets, he buys flowers—just to make you smile.

- The Winter Soldier could have taken down entire armies, completed missions in seconds, and slipped through enemy territory undetected, but Bucky Barnes? He would have starved to death because the only things he knows how to make are sandwiches and cereal with milk. One of his personal goals was to cook you a romantic dinner—your favorite dish. After buying all the ingredients and failing twice, he finally swallowed his pride and asked Sam for help (mainly to teach him how to use YouTube, since he’s basically a caveman when it comes to modern technology). He managed to put together something that looked decent but tasted surprisingly good. He set the table, bought fresh flowers, and lit a few candles. A total romantic.

- The first time you were together—sexually—he was terrified of not knowing his own strength and hurting you. He treated you like you were made of porcelain, leaving soft kisses along your neck and chest, holding your body with delicate hands. When his metal hand trailed down your bare legs, you shivered slightly from the cold touch. He immediately stopped, worried. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” But all it took to reassure him was pulling him down by the neck and kissing him again.

- Once your relationship progressed, though? Bucky became completely shameless. He was like a horny teenager, taking every free moment to have his way with you all over the apartment—the kitchen counter, the laundry room, the couch, the shower. Even in public, he’d lean in close and whisper dirty things in your ear. “I can’t wait to get home, spread your legs, and taste you, babydoll.” And when no one was looking, his hand would accidentally land on your ass, or he’d give you a playful smack.

- Of course, when it comes to aftercare, he’s as sweet as they come. He always makes sure he didn’t hurt you, asks if you need water or if you’re hungry. Thanks to the serum, he doesn’t even look tired—but you? You’re completely spent after the multiple orgasms he gave you. All you want to do is lay on his chest, curl up in the crook of his neck while he holds you close, tracing imaginary shapes on your back. Every now and then, while the two of you talk about random things, Bucky presses soft kisses to your forehead, his metal hand gently caressing your legs.