tikkafreespirit

[tikkafreespirit]

not too loud

john walker x f!reader

summary: john is masturbating next to you, who he thought were sleeping, in a room with other people. you offer him help, telling him to finish in you instead. cw: smut, masturbating, borderline voyeurism, p in v, back scratching, creampie, no use of y/n wc: 1.8k

you and your teammates didn’t want to bother discussing sleeping arrangements after completing a hectic mission. you all booked this room to rest before a long drive back home.

as soon as the door to your two-bedroom motel room swung open, alexei and bob had already claimed the bed near the windows. meanwhile ava, yelena, and bucky are assigned to a different mission.

here you are, sleeping next to john walker on a lumpy and cheap double bed, a barrier of only one layer of pillows between the two of you. your back is turned to him; you’d imagine what it’d be like facing him without the wall of pillows, so you just avoided even facing his direction. a form of self-control.

the motel isn’t fancy enough to give you another blanket when you called for it, so you’re sharing one with walker. you’ve got goosebumps from the cranky air conditioner and the hypotheticals of sharing a bed with a super soldier you’ve been crushing on for months.

the continuous and consistent sounds from the air conditioner are disturbed by a rhythmic noise, like soft skin slapping, emerging from your right. you brush it off, not wanting to move since the mission was physically taxing.

after a few more seconds of the noise, the tiny space of the blanket you had was being tugged, the wall of pillows was shaking, and you occasionally heard soft grunts.

is walker jerking off?

you immediately sat up and looked over the wall of pillows. you see walker intensely shutting his eyes and biting his lip, the shape of a fist outlining the thin white blanket right above where his crotch would be.

“john?”

he widens his eyes. his whole body is freezing, not just from the air conditioner but from the embarrassment.

“hey… how long have you been awake?”

he inquires with a slight shake in his quiet voice, trying his best not to wake the two sleeping men on the other bed and not to let the shame shine through.

“i haven’t slept since we laid down.” “god damn it.” “you couldn’t do it in the bathroom?” 

you whisper-shout. at the same time, you’re fighting the urge to break the walls down, figuratively and literally, and sit on his cock.

“fuck. sorry. i'm really sorry. i didn’t wanna get up, and… it looked like you were in a deep sleep.” “unbelievable.”

you lie back down and cup your hot face with your cold hands. walker sits up and places his arm on top of the wall of pillows to appear casual and friendly.  “look, i was just… hard, and i couldn’t go to sleep so i had to… you know. relieve myself.” “you gonna finish?” “ha-ha. very funny.” he rolls his eyes and faces away from you. after hearing the silence from you, he turns his head back to you with concern on his face.

“do it in me,”

you whisper as you raise yourself by your elbows. you look up at him through your eyelashes. he parts his lips and smirks, and releases a short sigh that sounds like a forced laugh.

“don’t mess with me like that.” “i’m not gonna jerk you off. i’m tired. i’m offering you help, john.” “so… you would rather i put my—“ “if you think this is a joke, you can just try to jerk off by yourself until the sun comes up and find that useless.”

his mouth is left partly open, tightening as he thinks of a response. “otherwise, get on top of me,” you offer, swallowing your shame. his blue orbs scan your face, looking for a confirmation that you wanted it as if you didn’t already ask him to get on top of you. his eyes then slowly travel to your neck and cleavage, revealed by the blanket that slid off when you got up. 

“are you sure?” “i’m sure. i’m your friend, and i want to help you.” “we must be a special case of friends, then.”

he breaks down the wall of pillows, a symbolic emotional and physical barrier the both of you have yet to discuss properly. you get on your back and put your arms to your sides. you inhale and exhale deeply to mentally prepare for the night you and he are about to have. 

the careful but quick movements from the walker against the bedsheets emit rustling sounds, good enough not to wake your roommates. he hurriedly tosses the pillows to the edges of the bed, eager to hover above you under the shared blanket.

he brackets your flushed face in his elbows, face only an inch away from yours. he tugs on the hem of your shorts, like permission to take it off. you accept it by helping him slide it down your legs, the shorts sliding off along with your laced panties. you slowly lift your legs up and apart, allowing his already half-naked bottom half to go in between. 

“you ready?” he asks in a whisper. you nod, and he holds eye contact. you both gasp as he slowly pushes his cock into you, your walls welcoming it by hugging it. the feeling of being full of him meets and somewhat surpasses your dirty expectations of his cock.

“fuck, you’re so warm.” he quietly moans in your ear, his shaky breath tickling you. your hands grip the ball of his shoulders, releasing your pent-up sexual frustration all these weeks from waiting for this very position.

he silently waits for you to adjust to his size and for him to adapt to the amount of pleasure he has been trying to reach by himself. you plant a peck on his ear, which tells him he can begin moving.

he gently rocks his hips into your pussy. you bite your lip to suppress moans. your swollen red lips that look sugar-glazed tempt walker; he knows the moment he gives in to his temptations, nothing will be the same ever again.

a super soldier can lift a ten-ton truck, but even john walker struggles to fight the urge to kiss you like you and him belonged to only each other. you mentioned you’re his friend like setting the label in stone.

he was afraid to cross that line by kissing you at the same time he was inside of you. he places a hand under your knee lifts it more which allows him to enter into you more easily. 

“john…”

you cup his face with your hands as he gently grinded onto you. his big and hard cock contrasts his gentle movements. how can a man who could destroy you fuck you so lovingly?

“you like this?” he asks. “i do."

his lips now only a few centimeters away from yours.

“you want more?” “i want more,” you admit as you fling your arms around his neck. your walls squeeze tighter around his cock at the sound of his low voice.

he began to quicken his pace and amplify the strength of each thrust. before you could release a moan and wake up your roommates, he shuts your mouth with a hand.

“not too loud."

he slides the other hand under your back, encouraging a bigger arch by pulling you closer to his body as if it isn’t close enough. your hips bucked so eagerly against his cock, making him want to ruin you more. your saliva wets his hand, but he doesn’t care. he’d jerk off with that hand.

a knot ties in your stomach. your hands travel to his back. your nails dig deep into his skin right under his broad shoulders, like an act of revenge for shutting you up.

several long red marks are left on his skin, following your nails as you scratch his back until you reach the sides of his ribs. he groans in pain and pleasure while still attempting to make sounds in the lowest volume possible.

it feels impossible. the soft skin slapping emerging from between your legs, the heavy breathing, the frustration in each thrust, the wish to fuck loudly, and the two clueless sleeping men make the sex feel impossible. but it’s happening. you don’t know how, but you’re leaving it all to walker.

he buries his face into the crook of your neck, and your fingers into his dirty blonde hair. his other hand joins the one under your back, putting the two of you in a hugging position. the pillows start to slide off the bed one by one as walker’s pace quickens.

“m’so close, princess. taking it so good for me," he manages to say in between his frustrated thrusts.

“feels so good, john,” you whisper, bringing him closer to climax. you feel your pussy squeeze tighter around his cock, pulsating as deep and fast as your heartbeat.

“yeah?” he moans into your ear, waiting for another praise. you look to your right to see alexei and bob still sleeping amidst the debauchery on your bed. alexei’s snoring was a signal for you to keep riling up walker.

“you fuck so good," you moan. you wrap your legs around his hips. he hugs your back tighter. you shut your eyes as they rolled back, preparing for the climax.

even though you could only see stars now, your visualization of the mess down there from your slick is accurate.

walker slams his hips onto you harder, fucking into you until he can feel your womb. with each thrust becoming increasingly inconsistent, you could tell he was near.

“fuck— right there.”

he presses his lips against yours, breaking the unspoken rule; you can’t kiss because you’re “friends.” he thrusts into you deeply, filling you up with his cum. you arrive at the same time. all you can do now is cover your mouth with a hand as walker buries his groans between your neck and your pillow.

your other hand grabs onto his bicep, releasing your pent-up sexual frustration into the grip.

he thrusts into you one last time, this being the deepest. you both lay there breathing heavily, staring into nothing as you process what happened in 7 minutes.

the hug you were giving each other loosens. he props himself up on his elbow, the other hand on your waist. he looks into your eyes before turning his head slightly to the side and kissing you slowly. he briefly separates his lips from yours, leaving yours slightly parted. “show me your tongue,” he whispers.

as soon as he sees the pink flesh in between your teeth, he joins his tongue with yours and presses his lips against yours. his tongue softly massages yours, both gentle and hungry for more, like he’s not still inside of you.

“you wanna take this to the car?”

[tikkafreespirit]

Have you ever tried this one?

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Pairing: John Walker x reader. Word count: 5.2k

Note: Another one inspired by a Sabrina Carpenter song, this time it’s Juno. If you know, you know😉 enjoy 🫶🏼

Description: John had been away on a long mission. A month of nothing but his fist and filthy thoughts of you, edging himself to save it all for you. Every last drop. So when he catches you singing some dirty song about needing it deep? You get exactly what you asked for.

Tags/Warnings: Smut, fem!reader, John gets freaky with his super strength, oral f!rec, only the tip, piv sex, cum play, cum kink (srlsy a lot🙂‍↕️), overstimulation (he just keeps going), so much dirty talk, literally just 5k words of filth with plot.

Happens in the same universe as “Come right on me … I mean camaraderie” but can be read as a stand alone.

Masterlist / archive

It wasn't John's fault. Not really.

It wasn't his fault Bucky had sent him on a month long mission to a place so remote it didn't even show up on a map. It wasn't his fault the signal was garbage, barely enough to send a text, much less hear your voice to at least let you know just how badly he needed you.

By the second week, he was already losing his mind.

Because waking up soaked in sweat with a cock so hard it hurt wasn't the problem, it was waking up alone. Reaching out blindly for the soft heat of your body only to find cold sheets and a cruel reminder that you were only in his dreams. Nothing more than a fucking fantasy. That the version of you riding him, moaning his name in that perfect, ruined little voice of yours, was nothing but a sick joke his head kept playing on loop.

It was maddening.

So no, it wasn't his fault that the tension inside him just kept building up like he was some horny teenager. And no matter how many times his hand drifted down to try to relieve some, anything, he never let himself finish. Not once.

Because coming without you felt wrong.

He told himself the same thing every time, between gritted teeth and sweat dripping from his brow: save it for her.

Every. Single. Drop.

He wrapped up his assignment three days earlier. Fueled by the image of you on your knees, of your pretty little mouth open for him, of that wet heaven between your legs he hadn't tasted in weeks.

He barely acknowledged Yelena when she passed him in the hallway that night he arrived. She raised a brow, opening her mouth to speak.

"Not now," John snapped, already walking past her.

Yelena didn't press further, just raised an eyebrow at the direction John was headed to. Your room.

Yeah, not exactly a shock. 

It wasn't a secret you two were having ... something. The compound's walls weren't that thick, and no one here was blind either. You'd both been caught sneaking out of each other's rooms enough times that it barely qualified as "sneaking" anymore.

The whole damn compound probably had a scorecard by now.

At this point, it was honestly ridiculous you still had separate rooms at all. Maybe you liked the thrill of it ... or maybe you were just idiots.

Either way, Yelena knew one thing for sure, she'd probably end up crashing in the living room with the others from that floor, if they wanted to get some sleep that night.

But when John finally reached your door, you weren't there.

He groaned in frustration, eyes narrowing. Maybe you were in the kitchen. Maybe you'd just stepped out, the warm lamp illuminating your messed bedsheets told him so.

Fine. He could wait ... barely.

He dropped his duffel and shield in the his room and headed straight for your shower, too tense to sit still. He scrubbed off the mission, the restraint, all while ignoring the throbbing between his legs he'd been carrying for weeks now. He told himself just a little longer, just a few more minutes and he could finally bury himself in you again, where he belonged.

He was mid drying his body when he heard the door of the room open. He tracked the sound of your footsteps across the room, the gentle bounce of the mattress as you hummed a song.

"Wanna try out some freaky positions ... have you ever tried this one?"

He paused with the towel in hand, half grinning to himself. What on earth were you singing now?

It wasn't the first time he'd caught you in your room with headphones on, humming to yourself like no one else existed. He loved it, loved the way you sang so freely when you thought you were alone. It was always cute. Except this time the lyrics were far away from being “cute”.

He opened the bathroom door with anticipation, hoping to catch your surprised face when you saw him standing in your bathroom with just a towel covering his lower half. But you couldn't see him.

You were sitting cross legged on the bed, facing the headboard. Wearing nothing but one of his huge old shirts, the hem barely covering your thighs, and those noise canceling headphones Yelena and Bob gave you for your birthday.

You were swaying softly, completely oblivious to his presence. The music was loud enough that he could hear the faint echo of a girl's voice through the headphones. Your head bobbed to the beat, eyes glued to your phone.

"One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love," you sang softly, scrolling absentmindedly.

John leaned against the doorframe, one hand holding the towel around his hips, tilted head and a smirk on his face. He lost interest on the music you were humming for a moment, his gaze dropped lower.

Was there anything under that shirt?

He needed to know. He had to.

The hem of the shirt shifted with your movement, offering teasing little flashes of your bare thighs. He tried, really tried to shake those thoughts away. It was a sweet moment. He could hear the playfulness in your voice, maybe you were even thinking about him.

But then the lyrics hit again.

"Adore me, hold me and explore me

Mark your territory

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, one"

He didn't know why the words hit him like that. Maybe it was the anticipation of it all. Maybe it was because they echoed every filthy thought he'd tried to bottle up over the past month. Maybe because he barely held himself together anymore.

He hadn't even touched himself in the last few days ... hadn't dared. Just drowned in the pent up need to be inside you, so thoroughly you'd be dripping with him for days.

"Adore me, hold me and explore me

I'm so fucking horny."

The words came out of your mouth in that same casual, airy tone, like you didn't even realize you were saying them. It was almost innocent. But he shook his head, because he knew you.

Always that mouth. That filthy, sweet, open mouth.

"Jesus Christ..." he muttered to himself.

"Tell me I'm the only, only, only one"

You sighed this time, flopping back on the bed with a dramatic groan, closing your eyes while you held your phone against your chest. The movement of your legs caused the hem of his shirt to ride up your thighs just enough to answer his question.

No panties.

That was it.

He crossed the room in three strides, eyes locked on the picture of you laid out beneath him, upside down from his angle, completely unaware of his gaze fixed on you.

What a treat.

He reached for your headphones, but your eyes flew open before he could pull them off. You yelped, gasping at the sight of him looming over you.

"John?!" you gasped, scrambling upright so fast your phone bounced off the bed, headphones following.

You weren't expecting to see him there at all, at least not yet, he was supposed to arrive by the end of the week. Not that you could ever complain though, the image in front of you was something you'd been dreaming all those weeks he was gone.

His body still damp from the shower, towel barely hanging onto his hips, wet blond hair dripping all over his shoulders … and that devilishly charming grin on his face.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, nonchalantly, like he didnt almost give you a heart attack.

You blinked a few times, with a breath caught on your throat. "Did you ... did you just come out of my bathroom?"

But you didn't even wait for an answer. Your body just launched forward, wrapping around him like you needed to prove he was real. He caught you instantly with a faint laugh, one arm curling tight around your waist, the other gripping his towel.

His nose brushed your temple as he whispered, "Got back early, couldn't wait to see you."

You smiled, and couldn't wait any longer either, so you crashed your lips against his. There was no hesitation from him, his hands gripped your waist hard, like he needed to anchor himself. Your fingers clawed his chest, his shoulders, dragging him closer by the back of his neck, needing more.

Needing everything.

His body pressed into yours with no space left between, large hands roaming all over your waist, your back, you ass. It wasn't slow, it wasn't sweet. It was tongues and fingers digging into skin. His rough beard scratching against your soft skin.

You pulled back just long enough to breathe, but he chased your mouth, biting at your bottom lip, not letting you go far.

"Fuck, I missed you," you muttered against his mouth, chest heaving. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He chuckled, raising his brow, his chest vibrating against yours. "Didn't want to interrupt the show."

Your face burned. You tried to hide in his chest, but he grabbed your chin so you wouldn't.

"You gonna tell me the rest of those lyrics?" he asked, looking down at you.

You just cursed lowly, because of course he heard all that.

In one smooth motion, he spun you around so your knees hit the bed and your was back pressed to his damp chest. His arm hooked across your shoulders, keeping you upright as his mouth dragged slow, wet kisses along the side of your neck.

"Don’t be shy … I liked that little song of yours," he mumbled against your skin. "But I think I misheard the best part honey ... you said you were what?"

Your breath hitched, you knew he heard you damn right the first time. And he knew you knew. His arm gripped your hip, guiding your ass to grind against him, and that's when you felt it. Felt him. The thick press of his bulge through the towel, hot and painfully hard, in a way that made you drool in anticipation.

"I said ... you were fucking what baby? What was it again?" he growled, pressing your hip harder when you didn't reply.

Your knees suddenly felt weak. God, you had missed him so much, even if he was about to fuck every single line out of you.

"So fucking h-horny," you blurted out the lyrics, dropping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

He hummed, satisfied, slipping a hand down your shirt until he reached the mess between your thighs.

"Jesus, baby..." he rasped, your body jolting when his fingers barely brushed the slick already pooling there. "You're soaking just from that? tsk tsk tsk.”

"You were gone for so long John," you whined, instinctively pushing back against him, "can you really blame me?"

He laughed, lowly, like you've just told him something absurd.

"You think you’re horny?" he groaned, shaking his head. "I've been jerking off like some goddamn teenager for weeks, and the worst part? I couldn't even finish honey … thinking how you should be the one wringing it out of me."

You bit your lip, whimpering at the image.

"You know how fucking hard that was?" he continued. "Sleeping in a cold bed, not even being able to hear your voice while I had my cock in my hand, trying not to cum 'cause I wanted it all to be yours. Wanted to fill you up the second I got back."

He loosened his grip on you only enough to let go of the towel covering his body. He dragged your shirt higher and then he pressed his bare cock against your ass.

"Feel that, baby?" he growled in your ear. "This is what I've been carrying ... just for you."

"Then give it to me," you begged, squirming in his hold. "John, please, it's been too long..."

"Oh, I will." He chuckled darkly. “But you gotta run that dirty mouth a little bit longer.”

You whined, this is exactly where he wanted you.

"Imagine the first thing I hear when I come back is that filthy little mouth of yours ... what was it you were singin' about? some freaky positions?"

Shit.

"Hold on to me."

Before you could even process it, his arms were under your thighs. You let out a squeal as he took you off the bed, carrying you to the wall. He turned you around midair, and without even a sign of discomfort, lifted your body up until your legs instinctively wrapped around his neck.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, and your breath caught in your throat as you realized what was happening.

He was standing, fully upright. Holding you high in the air with your legs hooked over his shoulders, his hands locked under your ass. His face aligned perfectly with your dripping pussy.

"John," you gasped, gripping his wet hair when you realized your head was close to the ceiling now. "What the fuck ..."

He looked up grinning like a devil.

"What?" he asked innocently, smug as hell. "Have you ever tried this one?"

You nervously laughed, shaking your head incredulously.

"Don't worry, baby," he winked, bunching the shirt around your waist, exposing you completely to his greedy eyes. "I got you."

You gasped when his mouth latched on your pussy like he'd been dying of thirst. Obscene sounds filled the room, from your wetness, from the mess he was painting all over his beard, from your pleads. His grip was unshakable, anchoring you in place while his mouth worked like he was trying to make up for every second he'd been gone.

Your chest began rising up and down quickly, one hand desperately tugging his hair while the other traveled up for some sort of leverage, slapping blindly at the ceiling above you as your body trembled.

"John ... fuck–yes," you panted, vision blurring from the intensity.

He groaned against your pussy, the vibration shooting up your spine. It was too much. The strength in his arms, the way he held you there without even faltering, while dragging his tongue through every slick inch of you.

It felt worshipful.

"You're doing it so good, baby," You praised, tugging his hair harder.

He hummed against your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth in a way only he knew how to make you see stars, and then looked up at you with those unfair baby blue eyes.

You almost came at the sight of him under you, beard all soaked, looking at you like he was getting drunk from your taste alone.

It wasn't long until your whole body began shaking, legs trembling where they were draped over his shoulders, the heels of your feet digging into his back like it would somehow ground you. But nothing could.

You were so high up the wall, so completely suspended by him, only your back touching anything solid, that your vision started to white out.

"J-John I can't ... I'm gonna–“

"Yeah?" he grunted. "Go on then, sweetheart ... mark your territory."

His fingers dug deeper into your ass, holding you in place as he moaned against your cunt, the vibrations sent you crashing over the edge.

Your thighs clenched around his head, body trembling as you reached your high. He didn't stop, not when you came, not when your back arched off the wall, not even when you whimpered his name.

He kept eating, drinking down every twitch of your orgasm, tongue flicking your clit until your thighs shook violently and you tried to push him away.

Your hands ran all over his hair, desperate.

"Too much ... John, baby, please–"

That's when he finally pulled back.

You blinked a few times at him, your juices glistening on his lips, running down his bearded chin. He looked wrecked. His wet hair all wild, jaw flexing, chest rising and falling like he'd been the one coming.

You twitched one more time, and he grinned satisfied.

"You taste even better than I remembered." His voice was raspy, so fucking sexy.

You barely had time to recover before he lowered you just enough to cradle you in his arms, still against the wall, but now your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms locked behind his neck.

He was the one you kissed you this time, making sure you tasted every drop of yourself on his lips. You could feel his hard cock trapped between you, hot and slick, leaking against your stomach.

"Still singin' that song in your head, sweetheart?" he asked as soon as you came apart, in that devilishly teasing tone.

"Huh?" You blurted out, dizzy from the haze.

He shook his head amused, he was barely getting started with you.

He adjusted his grip on you, before taking you off the wall. Your arms tightened around his neck, eyes wide as he carried you through the room, toward the bed. He lowered you on the mattress, spreading your legs with his knees as he hovered over you.

He didn't have patience for you to be covered anymore, even if seeing you in his shirt drove him insane. But he just needed you naked when he came all over you. So he easily ripped his shirt off from you, throwing it somewhere in the room. His eyes dragged down your body, pausing at the mess between your thighs, at the way your chest heaved, at the way your eyes pleaded.

"You look like a fuckin' dream," he muttered, voice rough. This is all he'd been waiting for, all he’d been fantasizing about.

Before you could say anything, hell, before you could even breathe, he grabbed his cock in his hand, slapping the fat head of it against your soaked pussy.

Once. Twice. Again.

You jolt with each wet hit, little shocked gasps slipping from your lips as your sensitive clit twitched under the weight of his cock.

"Too much?" he asked, grinning as he slapped your folds again, harder this time. "You're twitching so pretty for me, sweetheart."

"John ... fuck–please," you whined, head rolling back on the mattress.

He just grinned, treating himself to a few more heavy wet slaps. You looked so pretty when you shivered, when you begged.

You gasped when you felt him pressing in your entrance with no warning. Head shooting up, eyes going wide just in time to see how he only pushed the tip in. Just that goddamn massive tip, splitting you open with a stretch that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You couldn’t help but throw your head back again.

"I know, baby," he groaned at the feeling of your pussy around him. "You're so tight and so full already … look at you, it's not even halfway in," he praised, breath coming short.

He didn't go deeper. Just pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, in and out. Driving you wild.

And my god, he was so vocal. The grunting, the low growling. The slow movement of his hips like he was holding himself back from slamming balls deep inside you. You knew he has.

You whimpered, clutching the sheets, your hips rolled up to chase more, deeper, but he pinned you down, his chest tensing as he held himself back with a growl.

"Just the tip for now, baby."

He wanted to take his time. Make you go as many rounds as he'd saved his cum for the time he was away. But when you clenched your pussy around the head of his cock, he almost almost bursted right there. He kept pressing in, just the swollen crown stretching you wide.

“God … John,” you whimper, grabbing the sheets. “I love the way you fit.”

“I know,” he hisses, eyes glued to where your bodies met. “Feels so fucking good like this.”

He didn’t thrust deep, just moved in short, devastating rolls of his hips that drove that thick tip over your sweetest spot again and again, attempting to drag another orgasm right back out of you.

“You gonna cum again, baby? tip’s too much for you already?”

That cockiness, that smug grin on his face, the way he keep pushing just a part of himself in that teasing pace, made you unravel, his name came out between gasps, body spasming with the pressure.

“Just like that baby, taking me so well, and I haven’t even fucked you properly yet.”

No he hadn’t, still made you see white as you rode your second high on the night. He groaned at the sight, feeling himself closer and closer.

"You want me to cum like this?" he gritted, hips grinding. "Been saving it, my sweet fucking cum ...all yours. You want it?"

You just nodded, eyes still seeing stars, breathless.

"Then sing it for me.”

Your brows furrowed. "W-What?"

"Sing the fuckin' lyric." He growled this time, leaning closer. "The part that got you all worked up. Let's hear it again sweetheart, just the good part"

Your cheeks flushed, brain fuzzing. "John—"

He slammed forward, just an inch deeper, but so hard it knocked a cry out of your throat. You swallowed hard, while he waited expectantly without moving, making you ache for the friction.

"...Adore me..." you mumbled, barely singing.

“Louder."

“Adore me... hold me... and explore me..."

You noticed the way he was becoming undone to your shaky voice, breathing caught in his throat as he began fucking you again his leaking tip, exploring your entire body with his hands. His eyes glistened with anticipation. He needed you to say it, he was so close.

"Go on, what’s next?” He growled between gritted teeth, hips dragging faster his tip in and out of your entrance, hands pinching your nipples.

"...Mark your territory..." you whispered, nearly choking on your words.

"Yeah," he breathed, voice feral. "That's the one."

He let out a guttural sound, hips slamming forward, his body locking up as he finally let himself spill into you, tip buried, grinding into your clenching pussy while his cum rushed out desperate, like it's been waiting to drip out of you.

"Fuck– ugh baby, fuck..."

You felt it before you even saw it. The first hot pulses inside you, so thick and warm. But he’d dreamed about you covered in him, so he pulled out, his cum leaking out behind him in thick drips as he poured the rest of himself on you. You felt it spill all over your body, one spurt. Then another. And another.

And another.

"Oh my –shit, baby," you gasped , eyes flying wide as he poured into you. "That's so much, John ... holy fuck–"

He kept going while he grunted, kept spilling, holding the base of his cock tight as he came all over you. Your clenching walls pushed what was left inside you out, dripping down your pussy, pooling on the sheets.

"Shit–can't stop," he panted, all flushed, watching with hooded eyes as his cum kept painting your body. "Fuck, look at you ... you're soaked."

You glanced down, and your jaw dropped.

It was everywhere. Your belly, your thighs, the curve of your hips. Sticky, thick white streaks all over your chest, a faint drop on your neck. And even more dripping out your pussy like he never pulled out.

And it had been just with the tip.

"John... it’s so much..." you panted, voice barely above a whisper.

"Told you I was saving it up, honey," he grinned, breathless yet still smug, proud ... asshole.

He leaned down, dragging two fingers through the mess on your belly, gathering a thick strand of it, and then smearing it right back onto your skin, lazier, messier, spreading it even more.

"You're not getting cleaned up," he mumbled, voice rough. "Not yet. I want you to feel it. I want you to lie here soaking in it."

You whimpered as his fingers trailed lower, collecting more where it was pooling between your thighs. He spread it around your folds, deliberately pushing it over your sensitive clit, and you jolted, hips twitching.

"Still twitchy," he smirked, loving the way you squirmed. "So damn pretty when you're sensitive."

Then he dragged his fingers back up and smeared more of it across your chest, rubbing his release into your skin like he wanted it to stay there.

His territory marked. Owned.

You were trying to catch your breath, your limbs heavy, skin flushed and sticky, brain barely holding onto thoughts.

But then, the weight of him moved over you again. His hand gripped your wet thigh hard, pushing it up and out. His cock, hard again, sliding right through the mess between your legs, thick and wet from your arousal and his white paint.

Your eyes flew open. "John ... just give me a minute–"

"It's okay baby, I got you."

He grabbed your limp body and flipped it over, chest against the mattress, ass low, while he crossed your arms behind your back so he could raise your back to him. His cock pressed against your ass, and you suddenly needed him more than before.

"Need you ... all of it … please"

This time he didn't say anything, he just thrusted. He buried himself deep, all the way this time, no more teasing with the tip. The sudden stretch made your whole body arch, back curling away from him but he tightened his grip on your arms, as a helpless cry ripped from your throat.

"Shit, you're so tight," he growled, voice rough with need.

He set a brutal rhythm instantly, hips snapping against your ass, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and filthy in the room. You were too sensitive, too full, too overstimulated, but you couldn't stop moaning. Your body could take it. Needed it.

One large hand gripped yours on your lower back, the other landing a smack in your ass as he fucked into you, panting, wild, relentless.

"You're so fucking perfect," he leaned down, teeth grazing your shoulder. "I'm gonna come inside this time. So deep you'll feel it for days."

Your mind was gone. Words were gone. You were just whimpering, relying on his grip to hold you up while he ruined you for the third time.

This is how he needed you. Overstimulated, a moaning mess, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you. You clenched around his whole length this time, tighter, he looked down at you and smirked.

"Cum on my cock, baby. That's what it's for, all yours."

His deep voice sent you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his cock, your back arched as you came again while he fucked you through it, clenching around him with a strangled cry. He slammed in deeper, his cock twitching for release.

"Take it, baby … so pretty how your take it."

He growled seeing you become undone again, losing his last thread of restraint.

"Oh fuck..."

"Come on John, I know you still have more for me.”

You felt it the moment he started to lose control, his rhythm stuttering, jaw almost snapping, breath hot and shaky against your skin.

"Gonna fill you up again," he growled, hips slamming into you one last time.

And then he crashed again, deep inside you, seed thick and hot, spilling into your pussy in those long, creamy strings. Your body jolted under him, back arching, but he didn't pull out this time.

He kept himself buried balls deep, cock twitching inside you, his hands tight still holding your arms behind your back.

"Jesus," he groaned, dazed. "You're fuckin' milking me."

You hummed, overstimulated and trembling, feeling every drop of him, filling you up until it began leaking back out.

A slow, thick stream of cum slipped out around his cock, trickling between your thighs, dripping down your leg as John just watched. Mesmerized. Smirking.

He let his grip on you go, gently letting your chest fall back on the mattress, cock still inside you. He looked down.

"Look at that," he mumbled. "Can't even hold it all." He pulled his cock back a little, just enough to make it spill faster. "Fucked you so full I can feel it spilling out of you."

You moaned, all weak, breathless. "Saved all that sweet cum just for me Johnny."

"It's all I thought about baby," he gritted, dragging his thumb to smear the mess around.

He finally pulled out, a gasp escaping your mouth when you felt all his love dripping out of you.

"Look how pretty you are when you're leaking my cum..."

You thought he would give you a minute this time. A little break to remember how to breathe again, when he helped you turn around so you laid your back on the bed, facing him now.

You could feel it against your leg, he was hardening again. Like your whole body wasn't already covered in all of him.

You felt the weight of his cock, thick, flushed, and heavy against your overstimulated pussy, you whimpered when he pressed the head back to your folds.

"John," you breathed, head rolling back. "You already ... fuck, you came so much baby."

"I know," he growled, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath was hot against your cheek. "I know. But look at me, baby."

He grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the tip through the slick, tender mess between your legs, your whole body reacting. "Still fuckin' hard."

It wasn't his fault. The serum had enhanced everything. Every fucking thing. And he'd been gone, for too damn long.

You barely had time to recover. You were still twitching, body too sensitive, soaked and overstimulated. But your hands still reached to his back, to push him into you one more time.

"Greedy little thing." He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t even hold yourself up but you keep reaching for more.”

So he complied, slow at first, like he could still tease after all he’d done to you by now. His hips rolled forward, pushing his previous loads deeper. You gasped, legs trembling, nails digging into his back as you shook your head and whimpered, "John, I can't–"

"Yes, you can," he growled. "You're gonna take every drop. Again."

Then he snaps his hips forward, hard.

Your whole body bounces as he fucked it into you one more time, his cock slamming through the mess he already left inside, making it gush out in slick, tiny splashes with every thrust.

"Fuck, listen to that," he snarled, going feral at the obscene sounds. "So messy for me. You love this."

And the worst part? He was right.

Because even through the overstimulation, the ache, the stretch, you were clenching around him again, your body greedy, desperate, obeying every filthy command he made without question.

He was relentless. Gripping your hips, fucked into you like he was trying to imprint himself into your core, cock pounding the mess deeper while more of it leaked out down your ass and thighs.

"Still sensitive, sweetheart?" He was smug as sin, one hand spreading you open while the other pressed your lower belly. "You can take it … just a little more."

You didn’t take long to come again, nearly sobbing, legs shaking uncontrollably, and he groaned as you cried out his name, squeezing him tight.

He was there, almost there. But he wanted this one somewhere else.

He pulled out of your shaking pussy, and climbed over your body on the bed, straddling your chest as he guided his cock to your face.

"Open for me, sweetheart ... yeah that's it"

He shoved his cock in your mouth, and you gladly took it, all of it. In twitches it spilled down your throat. Salty, thick warmth overflowed your mouth as he grunted, coming all over your tongue.

You hit his thigh when you couldn't breathe anymore from how much it was, so he put a hand behind your neck to lift your head, and raised you to sit on the bed as he panted beside you, mesmerized by the view of you choking in it.

His hand ran comforting strokes down your back, as you tried to swallow as much as you could. Like you always did.

Like the good fucking girl you were for him.

"Look at you," he whistled in a growl. "Covered in me. Stuffed full of me. Choking on me … and I still see some untouched parts."

His thumb found your chin, smearing what had leaked out your mouth down your neck, and tilted your face toward his.

"How many times is that, baby?" he taunted, pushing the hair out of your sweaty face. "Two, three loads? … doesn't even matter, you always take ‘em all.”

You just whimpered to his praise, couldn't trust your voice when you still felt his warmth going down your throat.

You both go quiet.

The kind of quiet that only happened after John was finally satisfied with how many times you came on his cock, with the way you twitched from the sheer exhaustion, when you didn’t even know how to speak anymore.

He pressed kiss to your temple, his lips soft, lingering. The sharp edge of his voice from earlier was gone, replaced by a low raspy whisper as his fingers brushed over your spine.

“Hey… you still with me, baby?”

You nod weakly.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “You did so good for me. So damn good.”

As you regained your breath, he just held you for a moment with his hand on your back, and stared. At you. At the mess all over your body. At what he did.

At what you let him do.

“C’mere” He whispered, while he pulled you into his lap, and settled you down on his wet cock.

You moan out, body going limp and stuffed beyond reason as he held you there, not moving, just filling you up for the last time. You clung to him with the last bits of strength you had left, while he wiped the sweat and hair out of your face.

“Just sit here sweetheart, you’re okay” he breathed against your hair, rubbing soothing circles on your body. “Keep me warm while you recover baby, don’t spill another drop.”

He wrapped his arms around you, possessive, smug but with tenderness now, he kissed your shoulder like it was the softest thing in the world. He could feel the stickiness of your body on him, a sweet reminder that you were in fact, the only only only one for him.

“We’ll cleanup later, baby” He cooed and you just nodded weakly, placing a kiss on his pec.

He leaned slightly to see your face, to catch a glimpse of that blissed out, weak smile on your lips. He smiled adoringly, with that softness that only came after he wrecked you.

But then, without even a doubt, a harsh chuckle left his throat.

“Have I marked my territory enough?”

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🖤

[tikkafreespirit]

Until the bed breaks (it does)

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: After a day full of teasing and playful torment, Bucky finally snaps while you’re sitting together on the couch, wearing something revealing. What starts as slow, deliberate teasing quickly explodes into a fierce and urgent need. He pins you down, kissing and caressing you with a rough hunger, then carries you to the bedroom where things escalate. The intensity breaks the bed, but neither of you care. also some fluff?

Warnings: 18+/ NSFW/ smut, established relationship, power dynamics (consensual), praise kink, degradation kink, edging, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex with tenderness, overstimulation, bed-breaking (literal), aftercare, fluff, mutual emotional connection, use of pet names, possessive language, p in v (unprotected)

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: I wrote this super fast and I’m also not good at writing smut . I’m just horny

You’re on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone like you’re not doing it on purpose, like you don’t know exactly what you're doing to him.

The thin silk camisole you’re wearing rides up just a little too high on your thighs. No bra. Just soft curves and bare skin, warm and glowing in the evening light. Every time you shift, the fabric clings in new places. Every time you stretch, it reveals more than it hides.

Bucky's been trying to focus on the movie, arms crossed, jaw tight. But he hasn’t turned his head toward the screen in over fifteen minutes. His eyes are locked on you tracking every little smirk, every not-so-innocent adjustment, every goddamn breath you take.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low. Dangerous.

You glance over, lips twitching with mock innocence. “Mmhm. Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. His sleeves rolled to his forearms, and that twitch in his jaw says he’s one second from snapping. You can feel it, the tension in the air tightening.

You shift again, this time more deliberately, letting one leg fall open just a little wider. The hem of your shirt creeps higher on your thigh. You don’t even look at him. That’s what finally breaks him.

He moves fast.

In a blur, the remote hits the floor. You let out a surprised gasp as he grabs your ankle and yanks you toward him, not rough but not gentle either, like he’s been holding back all day and he’s just now letting go.

His body is between your legs in a flash, palms on either side of your thighs, caging you in. His face is right there, hovering just inches from yours, his breath hot and shallow.

“I’ve been patient,” he growls, voice like gravel and thunder. “You’ve been testing me since this morning. Parading around like that, lookin’ at me like you don’t want me to snap.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you whisper, smiling.

His eyes narrow.

“Didn’t do anything, huh?” he echoes darkly.

He leans in, ghosting his lips over your jaw, then to your neck, barely brushing skin. You shiver. His metal hand slides up your bare thigh, cool and smooth, the touch so light it almost tickles. Teasing. Tormenting.

He doesn't kiss you. Not yet. Just stays there, breath hot, lips barely grazing your skin as he moves lower. Across your collarbone. Down the dip between your breasts. He drags his nose across the swell, not touching with anything else. Then lower, still not kissing, just hovering, making you feel every heartbeat, every breath, every second he’s not giving you what you want.

“You wanna tease me?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice nearly a growl. “You wanna act like this pretty little thing ain’t begging for me?”

You whimper, back arching. His hand wraps around your waist suddenly, pulling you tighter under him.

“Too bad,” he growls. “Now you wait.”

Then he stops.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t kiss you. Just smirks, lips brushing your sternum like a dare.

And that, that makes you whine.

Your hips twitch up toward him and you finally whisper, desperate, “Please.”

That’s what does it.

His eyes darken like a switch got flipped. And then he snaps.

With a low growl, he grabs your face and kisses you hard, no more teasing. Tongue and teeth and need, like he’s starving for you. He presses you into the couch, grinding down between your legs, his hand already sliding beneath your shirt.

“You wanna tease me?” he pants against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He lifts you suddenly, like you weigh nothing. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

“Bed,” you gasp.

He smirks, carrying you like he owns you. “Not before I make you beg.”

His lips ghost down your neck, painfully slow.

“You think it’s funny?” he murmurs against your skin. “Walkin’ around all day in that little outfit. Touchin’ me when you knew I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

You smile, smug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb now.” His grip tightens on your thighs where you're straddling him. “You were grindin’ on me in the kitchen. Then that little show on the couch? You were askin’ for it.”

His mouth trails to your collarbone, tongue flicking, teeth grazing, lips just barely brushing, teasing you back. One hand slides under your shirt, palm rough, slow as he drags it up over your ribs.

"You’ve been a fuckin' brat all day."

You rock your hips forward, grinding down. “So do something about it.”

That’s what breaks him.

He growls, low and feral, and in one swift motion, grabs your ass and stands, lifting you like you weigh nothing. You gasp, hands clinging to his shoulders as he carries you with purpose. His boots thunder down the hall. Kicking the door open.

You’re tossed onto the bed, the air ripped from your lungs with a sharp gasp and he’s on you like he’s starved. There’s no time to recover. No time to think. His mouth is everywhere, feverish and desperately kissing, biting, sucking like he’s trying to brand you. Across your chest, your stomach, the softest parts of your thighs. His teeth sink in just hard enough to leave a mark, to make you remember.

“Gonna make you pay for it,” he growls, voice thick with need, breath hot against your skin. His fingers hook into your panties and yank them down in one brutal pull, the elastic snapping at your hips. “Made me wait all fuckin’ day. Parade around like that, smilin’, actin’ all innocent? You knew exactly what you were doing. Now you come when I say. How I say. You understand me?”

You nod frantically, body trembling, eyes wide. “Yes, Bucky.”

He laughs, low and rough. It vibrates in his chest, against your bare skin. There’s a look in his eyes are wild, starved. He’s barely holding it together.

“Oh, baby…” His smile is all teeth. “You’re not fuckin’ ready for me.”

He kneels between your legs and there's no softness left in him. His hands shove your thighs open with zero patience, palms spanning the width of your legs like they were made to ruin you. He stares down, eyes flashing like a man possessed.

“You’re already soaked,” he mutters, like it’s an insult and a fucking gift. He drags his tongue over his bottom lip. “You’re drippin’, baby. Filthy little thing. What, you got off on makin’ me wait?”

His mouth crashes down like punishment.

One slow, flat lick that makes your hips buck. Then another this time heavier, hungrier. His tongue fucks into you, sloppy and deep, then slides up to your clit where he sucks hard, tongue flicking mercilessly.

You cry out, legs trembling, but his metal arm shoots across your hips and locks you down. He moans into your cunt, low and guttural, grinding his hips into the mattress like it’s the only thing keeping him from splitting open.

“You tease me just so I’ll break like this, huh?” he growls against you, voice raw and ruined. “You like gettin’ fucked like a toy?”

You nod through the gasps, back arching into his mouth. “Yes—yes, Bucky—”

He pulls back just long enough to slap the inside of your thigh. It’s sharp, stinging, and makes you jolt.

“Then fuckin’ take it. Keep those legs open. I didn’t say you could move.”

He drags two thick fingers through the mess between your legs, covered in slick and dripping heat. He groans when they come back soaked. “Goddamn. You’re fuckin’ obscene. I haven’t even started and you’re already makin’ a mess.”

And then he starts ruining you for real.

Two fingers slide inside, deep and curling, pressing against that spot that makes your vision go blurry. His mouth stays locked to your clit sucking, licking, working you with all the control of a man who’s completely lost his mind.

He doesn’t let you cum.

Not once.

Three times he pulls back, just as your legs start to shake, just as your orgasm starts to crest. You’re gasping, trembling, thighs clenching on nothing as he backs off with a cruel smirk.

“You don’t cum without my permission,” he growls. “Not after actin’ like that. Brats don’t get to finish when they want.”

By the fourth time, you’re crying. Not from pain but from the aching, burning need between your legs. From the cruel, delicious torment of being so close you can taste it.

And then he breaks you.

“You wanna cum?” he pants, voice wrecked, lips slick with you. “Then fuckin’ cum.”

His mouth clamps down, tongue flattening and flicking fast, and those thick fingers thrust in deep, relentless, hitting that spot so perfectly it makes you scream.

It’s not an orgasm.

It’s a full-body surrender.

You sob as you squirt, thighs trembling violently, back arching as white-hot pleasure explodes through you. It’s overwhelming, so intense you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.

Bucky groans into your cunt, grinding into the mattress, tongue working you through it like a man possessed.

“Fuck yes,” he snarls, dark and proud. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Look at you. So fuckin’ messy for me.”

You’re still twitching, brain melting, when he climbs up your body. His pupils are blown wide, hair wild, breath ragged.

“You think I’m done?” he growls. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you so hard we’ll owe the neighbors an apology.”

He flips you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up into position.

“Ass up. Face down. That’s how brats get fucked.”

He yanks his pants down in one rough motion, cock springing free. Thick, hard, and already leaking.

He slams in with a guttural growl, thick and deep, splitting you open in one ruthless stroke that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

The bed jerks violently beneath you, the mattress creaking in protest, and you scream half from the shock of it, half from how fucking good it feels to be filled like this. Your fingers twist into the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he sets a brutal rhythm with no warning, no buildup. Just need.

Just hunger.

“Fuck, Bucky!” you gasp, the words punched out of you with every rough thrust.

There’s no mercy in him now. No teasing. No holding back. He’s fucking you like it’s been years. Like he’s trying to bury something in you. rage, lust, love. whatever it is, it’s all-consuming. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, wet and filthy, and the headboard slams the wall with every vicious snap of his hips.

One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back so your spine arches for him, forcing you to take every thrust deeper, harder.

“You feel that?” he growls into your ear, voice shaking with how close he is to the edge. “That’s what you fuckin’ do to me. You drive me insane, you brat. You make me lose control.”

His other palm lands on your ass, hard enough to leave a print. Once. Twice. The sting mixes with the pleasure until you’re gasping, a whimpering mess beneath him.

“You wanted this,” he snarls, fucking into you so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. “You fuckin’ begged for it all day with those looks. With that mouth.”

The wood beneath you groans.

And then crack.

The bedframe splits beneath the force of his thrusts, collapsing partially to the side with a loud creak of splintered wood. The mattress tilts, dragging both of you with it but he doesn’t stop. He just grabs your hips harder, uses the leverage, and keeps driving into you like a man possessed.

Neither of you care.

He’s gritting his teeth now, sweat dripping down his temples, his grip bruising. “You hear that?” he pants. “That’s what happens when you get me fuckin’ feral.”

You’re gone. Absolutely ruined. Words are nothing but static in your head. Just moans and gasps and half-sobbed praises that tumble from your lips like prayers.

And he loves it.

He leans forward, his chest pressed to your back, the heat of him wrapping around you, caging you in.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls, his voice ragged and cracking with need.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Yours,” you cry, wrecked and breathless. “Yours, Bucky—only yours—”

That’s it. That’s the final spark.

With one last, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and stays, his entire body shaking as he spills into you, forehead pressed to your spine, breath stuttering against your skin.

He groans, low and wrecked, and you feel his body lock up behind you. shoulders taut, thighs trembling, one last thrust grinding so deep inside it knocks another moan from your throat as you cum, hard.

Then stillness.

You collapse together in a tangled heap, both of you gasping for breath, the broken bed tilted beneath you, the air thick with heat and sweat and the scent of sex.

He’s still inside you, softening slowly, one hand still wrapped in your hair as the other slides gently up your back. His voice comes soft now. Barely a whisper.

“Good girl. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You hum weakly, eyes fluttering closed, cheek pressed to the sheets. Your thighs are still twitching. Your body feels like it’s glowing and unraveling all at once.

He pulls out with a soft groan, cum dripping out of you. He sits back on his heels. You hear the rip of a tissue, the soft rustle of movement, and then warm hands are on you again, gentle this time. Wiping you clean, kissing the sore curve of your ass, rubbing soft circles into your hips like he’s trying to bring you back to earth.

You peek over your shoulder at him, dazed.

“You okay?” he murmurs, eyes suddenly soft, brushing hair from your face.

You nod, smiling hazy and slow.

“I’m amazing,” you breathe. “And sore. And ruined.”

His grin is pure trouble.

“Good. That was the goal.”

Then you feel him laugh.

Not a cruel one this time it’s soft, breathless, warm against your shoulder. He rolls onto his side with a groan, the mattress tilting with the slant of the frame.

“I think we broke the damn bed,” he mumbles into your skin, lips pressed just beneath your shoulder blade.

You lift your head and look back, hair sticking to your damp cheeks. “We?”

He smirks, brushing your hair from your face. “Okay…I broke the bed.”

You both burst into laughter. It’s sleepy, messy, breathless joy. Your body still buzzes, but the tension is gone, wrung out of you completely.

He leans in and kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips. Slow. Gentle. So different from how he touched you just minutes ago.

His hand trails down your spine, soothing now, stroking gently. “Did so good for me,” he whispers. “Took it all like a fuckin’ champ.”

You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath. He shifts beneath you, maneuvering you both so you don’t roll into the slanted part of the mattress.

“New bed tomorrow,” he mutters.

“Maybe something reinforced?” you tease sleepily.

He pulls the blanket over both of you and sighs. “Or maybe we just start using the couch more.”

You giggle into his chest. “That’s where this all started.”

“Might as well finish what we started.” He kisses your forehead. “Just not tonight. Tonight you rest. I’ll hold you.”

And he does.

Strong arms wrapped around you, skin still warm, the air filled with the faint scent of sex. The chaos of before dissolves into comfort, into calm.

And despite the busted bed and the ache between your thighs, you’ve never felt more safe.

I haven't stopped laughing I REALLY DONT KNOW WHAT TO TITLE THIS... anyways, I hope you enjoyed! ^-^

I also wrote this really fast LIKEEE lightening fast, I was thinking with my kitty not my head. sorry if it doesn't make sense...idk.

[tikkafreespirit]

Ahhhhh this was amazing 🥰🥰

Lipstick Stains ♡ Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Sub!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky's self-conscious, so you cover him in lipstick stains while telling him how beautiful he is.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Graphic Sexual Content. Body image issues. Submissive Bucky. Whimpering & whining Bucky. Hand jobs. Kissing. Kiss marks. Self confidence. Affirmations. Established Relationship

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Authors Note: Inspired by a video I saw. God I wanna cover him in kisses. If you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Masterlist

It’s fair to say that almost every person alive has a complicated relationship with their body. 

Whether from years of self inflicted hatred, or from unwanted outside opinion, everyone feels a certain way. 

That includes Bucky. 

Bucky is a large man. He’s tall and broad, full and sculpted. He’s a statue of muscle and scars, and you’ve always believed he was the most beautiful man alive. Because generally, he is attractive. Nearly perfect, to the modern era's beauty standards. 

But it's not that simple, not for him.

Because his body is a prison, a shell, a glass cage marred with the shadows of his past. And when he looks at himself, he doesn’t see what you see. He sees blood, and burns. He sees scars, pale and swollen. He sees metal fused with flesh, reminding him constantly that his body isn’t really his. 

So when you find Bucky in your bedroom, staring at himself in the mirror, you know. You know what he’s looking for. 

Because Bucky doesn’t admire himself. He doesn’t take pleasure in pictures, or passing glances in the mirror. He doesn’t like looking at himself. 

But you do.

You always will.

“Whatcha doin?” You pipe up from the doorway.

Bucky nearly flinches, his gaze finding yours in the mirror. “You’re home early…” He mutters, a soft sigh tumbling from his lips. 

You shrug, carefully approaching him. “Not really,” you set your bag on the floor. “Same time as always. How long have you been standing here?” Your hands brush over his hips, where a towel clothes his hips. He must have just gotten out of the shower- except his skin was dry. 

“I lost track of time,” he relaxes as your arms circle his waist, your chin propping up on his shoulder. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” You stare at him through the reflection of your standing mirror.

“Just thinkin’...” He swallows, his large palms petting over where your hands rest on his stomach. You frown, wishing he’d look at you. 

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head. He always says no when it comes to this. He just can never get the words out. Never muster the courage to talk about it. “Mkay,” you mutter, smacking a soft kiss to his shoulder. 

You don’t pull back, because the way he keeps your hands locked in place tells you he wants you where you are. 

Something Bucky made clear from the start was that he was touch starved. He never said it out loud, but the way he practically purred beneath every brush of your skin told you everything. 

You often think he’s too embarrassed, which is why he’s grateful you never confront him about it. Instead, you wrap him in your arms and curl up against him. 

You pet a hand down his muscular stomach, soothing and slow. “You’re beautiful, Buck,” you whisper, your lips pressed to his nape. He shivers, his throat bobbing. “Really, really beautiful. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“Y/n…” he huffs, his cheeks heating under the praise. 

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real, just by looking at you,” your thumb strokes over his naval. “I wish you could see what I see, James,” you rest your cheek against his shoulder. “I wish you could see how perfect you are.”

He stiffens, his arms slack at his side. His heavy gaze lifts to the mirror, but this time he tries to focus on where you’re connected. On the way you touch him. 

“If I could,” you start, your breath fanning across his skin, “I would spend my day just staring at you. Admiring you. Touching you.” Your fingers brush over the hem of the towel. 

He sighs softly, leaning back against you. 

You don’t have to look to know he’s already worked up. Emotional vulnerability works him up more than anything else. 

“If I could, I’d spend my life worshiping you.” You tug his towel loose, letting it fall to the floor. 

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, deep and flustered, as he’s greeted with the sight of his naked reflection. “You’re dramatic,” he mutters, watching your hand inch closer.

“I’m not,” you protest, your free hand petting along his side, over the notch of his hip. “I mean it, James. I mean every word.” 

He groans as your fingers wrap around his stiff erection, his stomach tensing. “You-” he licks his lips. “You’re ridiculous…”

You chuckle, your hand still, just holding the weight of him. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you could see what I see.” You mutter, brushing a kiss over the shell of his ear. “I’m lucky, baby, I really am. To be with you, to hold you,” your thumb strokes the base of his cock, his skin smooth and warm. “To touch you.”

He groans, his hips twitching. 

Bucky stares in the mirror, astonished and only a little embarrassed. But your touch, to him, is like a drug. It’s like something he needs in his veins, in his soul, down to his very atoms. He needs it, doesn’t matter how. 

A brush of your fingers at breakfast, a hand on your hip as he passes you by, or a sweet kiss before bed. It doesn’t matter. He craves it. He craves you.

You look over his shoulder, catching his eyes in the mirror. “Look,” you insist. “Not at me, at you.” You rest your cheek against his shoulder. “Look how pretty you are.”

He makes a choked off noise, his ears tinting pink. “Jesus…”

You bite back your smile. “Are you embarrassed?”

He turns his head to the side, a frown curling at his lips. Because the only thing worse than feeling embarrassed, was being asked if you’re embarrassed. 

“You shouldn’t be,” you smile. “It’s a fact, Buck, you’re pretty.”

He huffs, his hips twitching forward into your still hand. “Y/n…”

You carefully release him, stepping back just enough to feel his warmth slip away. He looks over his shoulder at you, watching as you dig through your purse. He says nothing as you open up your small makeup bag. 

You find what you’re looking for and move back into his space, carefully pushing him back against the dresser. “I want you to feel it,” you mutter, your hand skating down his waist. He frowns at you, shifting on his feet. “To like what you see.”

“Y/n, I…” he shakes his head, reaching for your hips. “Knock it off…”

A soft smile spreads across your face. “Can’t. Gotta make my point.” You arch up and drag a slow kiss across his lips. He leans into you, sighing as your tongue strokes over his. 

You pull back too soon- a disgruntled sound rumbles in Bucky’s chest. You bite back a cheeky smirk as you sink to your knees before him. His breath catches in his lungs, his fists curling around the edge of the dresser. 

But you don’t acknowledge his heavy erection, not at first. Instead you open your hand, revealing a tube of lipstick. You uncap it and carefully apply the silky pigment to your lips. Bucky watches you, his brow pinched in confusion. 

“I don’t think you realize how perfect you are Bucky,” you whisper, rolling your lips together. Your warm hands stroke down his outer thighs, over the rippling muscle beneath the flesh. “Every small thing,” you whisper, leaning in. You press a soft kiss to the curve of his left thigh. 

“Your thighs,” you hum, pulling back to admire the red stain left behind. 

“What are you doing?” He swallows, his stomach tensing as he watches you. 

“I want you to see what I see,” you whisper, pressing another firm kiss to his right thigh. His hips shift, his aching erection twitching. “Have I ever told you how much I like your legs?” You mutter, glancing up at him as you peck his outer thigh. 

“So thick, so pretty.” You press red marks into his skin, the shape of your lips carved perfectly with lipstick. “I’ve always liked how they look in your dark jeans.” You slide your hands up the back of his thighs, grabbing a handful of his ass. “And how good your ass looks in them too.”

Bucky swallows, his back arching nervously as you touch him. He stares down at you, his jaw clenched so tight, his ears ring. “Y/n…” he calls your name, sounding breathless. 

You kiss along his inner thighs, the red pigment stark against pale skin. “So pretty,” you drag your hands back down his legs, petting him affectionately. You peck kisses between his legs, trailing them up to his hip. You glance up, nudging his cock with your cheek.

Bucky grunts, his cheeks dusting a furious pink. His heart hammers heavily against his ribs, pounding and thrumming beneath his skin. 

“Every part of you,” You cup him in your hand, your fingers wrapping around his base. Bucky holds your gaze as you press a gentle kiss along the side of his shaft. His stomach twitches, a soft whine falling from his lips. 

You smile, your spare hand stroking from his waist to his leg. You press another kiss just beneath the head of his cock, your lipstick staining him red. 

Bucky squirms, his hips twitching forward. His fists tremble against the dresser, his skin painted pink with embarrassment. “Christ-” He pants, watching you. You curve down, your eyes falling shut as you gently kiss along the curve of his balls. He flinches, a choked whimper falling from his lips. “Why are- oh god,” his lashes flutter as your fingers gently squeeze the base of his cock. 

You tilt your head up, his heavy erection resting against your cheek. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, dragging another firm kiss along the side of his length. “I want you to watch.”

He groans, his tongue swiping over his lips. He blinks down at you, embarrassed under your excessive devotion. “Okay…” He swallows, his chest stuttering with breath.

You stroke your thumb along the thick vein traveling along the underside of his cock, just barely offering stimulation. Heat sparks in your gut as he obediently keeps his eyes on you- only momentarily glancing at the many lipstick stains marking his body. 

He forces himself to look back at you, too flustered and worked up. But he knows it will stain. He knows those marks will last, even after a shower. 

He knows the next time he sees himself naked, He’ll see himself covered in your admiration. 

You lick your palm and wrap your fingers back around his length.

“What else?” He blurts, his voice breathy and light. 

“Hm?” You glance up, your lips pressed to his balls. 

“You like my thighs,” he gasps, his legs spreading to give you room. “What- what else?”

You smile, pulling back. “God, there’s so much.” You chuckle, dragging your tongue along his weeping slit. Bucky chokes on a broken whine, his body arching into you. “I like the cut of your hips,” You arche up, smearing lipstick into his sharp V line. “I like your stomach,” You peck below his belly button. 

“I like when you lift your arms over your head, and I can see your happy trail.” You thumb over your last kiss mark, where short dark hairs are stained red. “I like your back, how big you are.” You whisper into his stomach. 

He pants, his mouth falling open as he tries to grind into your hand. He doesn’t get much from it though, making him whine softly. “Uh-huh…” He looks pathetic, chasing pleasure as you cover him in lipstick, begging you to take mercy on him.

But this wasn’t just about sexual pleasure, it wasn’t about chasing a high. It was about physically marking Bucky with your love, with your devotion. It was about holding his attention and showering him in gentle affection. 

Because he wasn’t used to this- he wasn’t used to offering himself up, vulnerable and weak, for you to handle. But he trusted you, more than anyone else. 

He trusts you to pick him apart, tease him to the edge, and fall apart. He trusts you to not make him feel pathetic as he whimpers through it, squirming and twitching beneath delicious pleasure and affection. 

“I like your arms,” you gently pump his cock, nuzzling into the base. “Both of them.”

“Yeah?” He gasps, his chin dipping to his chest as his muscles clench. 

“Mhm,” you mouth along his shaft, his pulse spiking beneath your tongue. “I like your shoulders, so broad and strong. Your chest, your smooth skin-” you pause as he chokes on a whine, his hips squirming closer. You smile, slowing your hand to a stop.

“Fuck-” He pants, his pink lips wet as he continues to swipe his tongue over them.

You pull back, staring up at him. Your stomach flips at the sight before you- Bucky, blushing and breathless, his brow knit tightly, shadowing those sharp blue eyes. His chest rises quickly with breathlessness as he struggles to ground himself.

“Tell me what you like,” You ask, continuing to slowly stroke his cock. 

“I- Ngh-” He chokes, his body trembling as he takes it. “What I like?”

“Tell me your favorite part of your body,” You explain.

“I don’t know-” He gasps, grinding into your hand. 

You carefully push his hips back against the dresser, trying to get him to focus. “Try,” you ask, smiling when his lashes flutter. 

He swallows hard, his jaw tensing as he tries to speak. “Uh-” he pants, blinking down at you. He has to turn his head away, his face aflame at the sight of you pumping his lipstick stained cock. “I like my jaw,” he whimpers.

“Mm, me too,” you grin, thumbing the curve of his tip. “What else?”

“I-I don’t mind my legs,” he moans, trying not to fuck your fist. 

“Come on, baby, gimme more,” you whisper, kissing his hip.

He whines, his head lolling back. “Fuck, I-” he pants. “My lips, I like my lips.”

You smile, nodding along. “Mm, those are my favorite.” You stare up at thim, at the way his teeth dig into the plush curve, trying to silence himself. 

“My height,” he groans, your fist tightening slightly. “I like my height.” He swallows, trying to gather himself enough to think. “I like my muscles,” he mutters, embarrassed at the admission. “I like being strong- knowing I can protect you.”

Your lips twitch in a soft frown, affection burning in your chest. “Look at me, baby.”

He blinks down at you, his body twitching. 

“You always make me feel so safe,” you whisper, satisfied by the mewl that falls from his lips. “Knowing you’re with me makes me feel protected.” 

He moans, the thought of your faith in him making his stomach burn with arousal. “Yeah?” 

You nod, slowly pumping his length. “I like knowing you’ll always take care of me,” you whisper, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.

Bucky moans, the sound wavering, breaking into a soft whimper. “Y/n, I-” He calls your name, the sound falling from his tongue like a prayer. “Fuck, I- I have to-” he gasps. “Can I-? Oh fuck, please?”

You shiver, arousal burning through your veins. “Of course,” You press gentle kisses to his tip, his slick precum smearing your lipstick. 

Bucky’s whole body draws tight, like a wire ready to snap- and it does. He chokes on a broken sob as he spills over your fingers, cum dripping to your thighs. He squirms, writhing against the dresser as you fist his cock, helping him through it. 

“Oh god-” he sobs, his hips twitching as you spread his release over his stiff cock. “Oh fuck,” whimpers fall from his lips, spiking your pulse like a drug. 

“So good,” you kiss his slick head again, listening to him whine.

“Fuck-” he gasps, overstimulation making him flinch. “Okay, stop- stop-”

You release him instantly, your hands stroking down his thighs. He groans, his body slumping against the dresser. You smile, resting your cheek against his thigh. 

His trembling hand slides into your hair, petting you gently. It takes him a while to come down from that heady space, from the overwhelming pleasure. 

You just stroke down his leg, curling up against him. 

“I’m-I’m gonna have to shower again…” He whispers, panting softly. 

“Yeah, these aren’t coming off with just a little soap.” You smile, tracing the many red lipstick stains. 

“I know…” He swallows, his stomach twisting from the possessive act. 

When he looks down at himself, at you, he blushes softly. His pale skin is speckled with dark red, the shape of your lips burned into his body.

He bites his lip to suppress the embarrassed smile that fights its way across his face.

A/N: The submissive Bucky requests are appreciated. I love a whiny Bucky.

Minors/ageless bios WILL BE BLOCKED.

Taglist:

@a-world-with-pure-imagination @frog-fans-unite @1967barracuda @akkklys @cherryheairt @lonelyghosts-stuff @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @devilslittlehelper @miss-chuchu @dollface-xoxo @natalia42069 @thuul-box @local-crazy @justachillgirllui @pleasecallmeunhinged @cookies-and-music @fallen-w1ngs @unicornqueen05 @bloodmocha @sleepysongbirdsings @fadingcollectivenightmare @hosshihusshi @sharkylalala

Tagged because they said I should write sub Bucky stuff:

@projectjuvia @scarlet-bitch @nicolesholes

I won't tag you again unless you asked to be tagged in further works...I don't wanna bother you... <3

[tikkafreespirit]

subby Bucky on TOP

teach you a thing or two

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: when bucky hears his teammates talking about their sex lives, he feels like he’s from a foreign planet. but you’re there to teach him you’re never too old to learn something new.

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, sub!bucky, restraints, praise kink, edging, orgasm denial, oral (m recieving), masturbating, voyeurism, minors DNI

The rambling of his teammates fell on his ears like a foreign language— and he spoke many languages.

In truth, he was trying to ignore them. He was huddled in the corner of the living room with the book you’d leant him. You told him it was your favorite, so he decided to read it, so he could talk to you about it.

The room had been peacefully silent for about twenty minutes before his teammates arrived and launched into a heated discussion.

He was half listening— realizing none of the words they were saying made any sense to him.

“What about you, Barnes?” John asked, grabbing Bucky’s attention.

The heat rushed to his cheeks. “What? Me?” He asked, trying to pretend he hadn’t been listening.

“Yeah, come on. We all shared. It’s your turn.” Yelena agreed.

“I uhh…I wasn’t listening.” Bucky lied. They scowled at him. For a man who was a notoriously great spy and liar, he was doing a pretty terrible job.

“You’re blushing. You were definitely listening. I’m sure you have some good stories. If you don’t tell us, we’ll just have to ask your girl.” Ava said.

He was supposed to tell them his wildest sex story with you? What was going on? Bucky’s mind was racing. “What’s your poison? You a voyeurism guy, maybe? Edging? Toys?” Walker asked.

Bucky stuttered, trying to get out just one coherent word— he was failing. “Awww you look so embarrassed. Are you just into vanilla? I wouldn’t have expected it with the metal arm and everything.” Ava said.

“I have to go.” Bucky grabbed his book and stormed off to your room.

You jumped in surprise as Bucky slammed your door open and came into your room. His face was bright red, and his hair looked disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it.

“You alright, honey?” You asked, pausing the show you were watching.

He crawled in next to you in your bed, pulling you into his lap. “Do you think I act like a grandpa?” He asked you, softly.

You’d never seen Bucky look so defeated or insecure. “Only in the best way,” you said, trying to cheer him up. You peppered kisses across his face.

Normally, that was the easiest way to make Bucky smile— but it didn’t work.

“I don’t want you to leave me because you think I’m stuck in the past.” He admitted. His head hung low as he refused to look you in the eyes.

You brushed his hair out of his face. “You definitely have a unique life experience, but I love you for you. I don’t want you to pretend to be anything you’re not.” You told him, kissing his cheek.

He finally looked at you. Your words brought him peace— if only a little.

“Besides, if you start trying to act hip to get along with the kids, I will have no choice but to leave you.” You teased, finally earning a chuckle from Bucky.

He rested his face on your shoulder, letting you continue to caress his hair. “What are you feeling so anxious about?” You asked. He shifted under you.

He couldn’t shake that 1940s sense of shame. Why was he so embarrassed to talk about sex with you?

“Heard the others talking about sex stuff, and I just felt so old.” He mumbled against your skin.

You felt your heart melt at how genuine his concern was. “Was there something they mentioned that you wanted to try?” You asked, testing the waters.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his cheeks flushed pink. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. I didn’t know half of what they were talking about.” He said, bashfully.

“What things did they mention?” You asked, curiously.

He hesitated— trying to find the best way to not sound like an awkward idiot.

“They talked about toys, but I know about that. And then, they talked about edging…which I think I know what that is.” He started to explain. He looked to you for reassurance and to stop him from rambling.

“Edging is when you get the point where you’re about to cum, and then you stop. And then, you get to that point again, and stop. And so on.” You explained.

He nodded along attentively. “What else?” You asked, knowing there was more just from the expression on his face.

He stalled— looking at the floor, his hands, anywhere but at you.

He scratched at the back of his neck. “They mentioned something called voyeurism.” He said, sheepishly.

You giggled at how red his face was. He felt like his skin was on fire and if he looked into your eyes, he’d combust into flames.

“Baby, voyeurism is when you like to watch somebody getting off.” You told him. He gulped nervously as your fingers trailed down his arm.

“You want to try?” You asked him, trying to judge his reaction.

“I…I wouldn’t know how.” He mumbled.

“How about I’m in charge this time? I’ll tell you what to do and you have to focus on feeling good?” You proposed. His eyes went wide— excited by the possibility. “That sounds nice.” He said.

“I have something I’ve wanted to try with you.” You said, walking over to your closet and grabbing something out of a drawer.

You returned to the bed with a black satin piece of fabric. “Take off all your clothes for me, honey.” You instructed him.

Bucky quickly obliged, tossing all his clothes on the floor. He laid on your bed, waiting for your next move. This was completely outside his comfort zone, but seeing you take charge made Bucky’s stomach do flips.

You straddled his hips, grabbing his wrists and then tying them both to your bedposts.

“Such a pretty boy, you gonna be a good boy for me?” You asked, brushing his hair out of his face.

He furiously nodded. “Whatever you want,” he responded.

You pressed a quick kiss against his lips— pulling away before he could kiss you back. “I bought something that I’ve been wanting to show you. Stay here, and I’ll be right back.” You said, going back into your closet and closing the door.

He groaned and moved restlessly on the bed. He needed you bad. The anticipation of waiting for your surprise was going to kill him.

He was already painfully hard— precum leaking out of his tip.

You emerged from the closet in a short black nightgown that had an intricate lace trim. “Woah,” Bucky mumbled, his eyes going wide as he stared at you.

“You like what you see?” You asked as you crawled onto the bed. He swore under his breath. He caught a glimpse between your legs and realized you weren’t wearing panties.

“You’re being such a patient boy. I think you deserve a little treat.” You said, your tone was slow and seductive.

“Yes, please,” Bucky begged for you.

You wrapped your hand around his cock, running your thumb over his tip. He squirmed against your hand— trying to get more contact as you teased him.

You slowly moved your hand up and down his length at an agonizing pace. Stuttered moans fell from his lips. “You look so pretty like this, you know that? My pretty little soldier being so good for me.” You praised him.

This time a higher pitched moan came out of him. You looked up at him, a smirk growing on your face. “You like that? My pretty little soldier loves to be told he’s doing a good job?” You repeated, knowing the nickname would turn him on.

His cock was throbbing in your hand, but you refused to speed up your pace. His head hung back against the headboard, grunts falling from his lips.

It was too much. Your hand on him. The way your nipples were poking through your nightgown. The soft praises that you gave him.

“I’m think I’m close…” Bucky mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut.

You quickly removed your hand from him. He whined, thrusting up against the empty air.

“C’mon, baby. Remember our little vocab lesson. What does edging mean?” You asked him, running your fingers down his chest.

“It means…uhhh…gotta wait to cum.” He answered, finding it hard to remember or focus on anything other than the need deep in his belly.

“Yes, good job. That’s my good little soldier.” You said, kissing his shoulder. He took deep breaths, trying to recover. All he could think about was feeling your hand on him again.

“Thank you for being so patient. Just remember what your prize is, if you keep following my directions, sweet boy.” You said, lifting your nightgown up and exposing the wetness between your thighs.

He nodded his head, biting down on his bottom lip. He wanted to behave so bad, but all his body wanted was to cum.

“Time for another little treat?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes.

He tried to steady his breath as you placed yourself between his legs. Keeping your eyes glued on his, you slowly sunk down until your lips were millimeters from his cock.

You placed soft kisses up and down his shaft. Each time you did, Bucky let out a small groan. You ran your tongue along the bottom of his cock. He called out your name, tugging his wrists against the restraints.

“Such a well-behaved boy,” you praised, wrapping your lips around his tip. Your name fell from his lips— repeating it like a prayer. You slowly and teasingly licked around his cock. He bucked his hips up into your mouth.

“I can’t…can’t take anymore. I’m gonna—” he moaned. He felt all his muscles contradict as he tried to hold off his orgasm.

You pulled away, sitting up in front of him. He clenched his eyes shut. “What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Can’t even look at you in that dress. I’ll cum just from lookin’ at ya.” He said, keeping his eyes shut as tightly as he could.

You ran your fingers up his thigh, teasing him as his body tensed. “I think you can be a brave little soldier for me. Be strong, baby.” You encouraged him.

He slowly opened his eyes to find you slipping your hand in between your thighs. The hem of your dress kept your cunt hidden from Bucky’s gaze. But, he could hear how wet you were as your fingers pushed in and out of you.

“Can’t see, wanna watch,” he begged. His hair was clinging to his sweaty forehead. You could see his desperation in his eyes.

You sat down on the bed, spreading your legs as wide as you could and bending your knees. Bucky couldn’t help the shudder that rolled through him as he saw your arousal dripping out of your folds.

You resumed your previous movements, plunging your two fingers deep into your cunt and curling them inside you. He bucked his hips up desperately against nothing.

Your mouth hung open, softly whining as you started grinding your hips against your hand. You let your thumb find your clit, drawing circles.

Bucky whined, calling your name over and over. “Please, honey,” he begged, he was desperate. More desperate than you’d ever seen him.

“Shhh, my pretty little soldier. Wait your turn. Be a good boy.” You teased.

You noticed how quickly his chest was rising and falling. “Fuck, please, honey. I’m gonna cum. Can’t hold it any longer,” Bucky swore.

You both were close to the edge. There wasn’t much holding Bucky back from falling over that edge.

Before he could say anything else, you straddled his hips. You quickly sunk down onto his cock.

He moaned at the contact, sinking his nails into the palms of his hands. His hips jutted up against yours and his seed came shooting out inside of you. That was enough to push you over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, such a good job, my sweet boy. Filling me up so well,” you praised, sealing Bucky’s lips in a kiss. He hungrily kissed you back as you slowly rolled your hips against his, coaxing you both down from your highs.

You carefully untied Bucky’s wrists, and he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your chest. “Did you like that?” You asked, scratching your fingers through his hair.

He nodded, still breathless. “I love you.” He mumbled, kissing you again.

“Next time you want to learn something new, all you have to do is ask.” You said, kissing him back.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guiltandguitarstrings @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @iamavailablesstuff @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore  @astheskycries @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @marvelcasey05 @velyssaraptor @amanda08319 @sunwardsss @studentville-struggles @impossibleapricotlampbat @infjwinchester44 @weirdfishy @lickmymelaninn @eternally-timeless @andreasworlsboring101 @glassesandthunderthighs @spiderstyles04 @mostly-marvel-musings @madisondelstan @spookyparadisesheep @beyondthesefourwalls @basicfangirlx @rivirox

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[tikkafreespirit]

hi :3 would u do a request of bucky masturbating and he gets caught 👅

caught in the act “I want to see you fall apart, Bucky.” warning: 18+ content a.n.: thank you for sending this plot, i never really thought about it. 😵‍💫

The elevator dings softly. You step into the quiet hallway of the Avengers Tower, your heels clicking lightly against the marble as you walk toward your room. There’s a pleasant hum in your chest from the wine — not quite drunk, but warm and loose, your laughter still lingering from the bar. The night clings to you like perfume: electric, indulgent, alive.

You pull out your earrings as you go, still smiling to yourself.

The red dress hugs every inch of you — short, tight, impossible to ignore. It clings to your hips and thighs, the hem scandalously high, and the plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination. Your cleavage is on full display, framed by the bold cut and just a hint of shimmer from the bronzer you dabbed on earlier. You hadn’t worn it for anyone in particular — but you had wanted to feel seen. Desired. Devoured.

You don’t know that someone had seen.

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you when you left earlier — your laugh echoing off the walls, the flash of red silk catching his eye like firelight. You didn’t notice the way he watched. Didn’t see the way his jaw had clenched, the way his fingers twitched like he could reach out and stop you. But he had watched. And when the elevator doors closed, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Couldn’t stop feeling you.

Now, back in the quiet hallway, you pass by his door without a second thought — until a sound stops you.

A low, rough groan.

You freeze.

It’s soft but distinct. That unmistakable edge of need.

You glance around the empty hallway. Everyone else is either still out or tucked away in their rooms. Curiosity flickers through you — sharp, unexpected, burning hotter than it should. His door is cracked open just enough.

You shouldn’t.

But you do.

You move closer, breath catching in your throat as you peer through the small opening. And what you see hits you like a shockwave.

Bucky is sprawled across his bed — sheets tangled and pushed low around his hips. His torso is bare, his skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat, every muscle drawn tight with tension. His metal arm lies slack at his side — but his other hand is busy, moving slow and deliberate along the thick length of his cock. His head is tipped back, lashes low, lips parted. A low, breathless curse escapes him.

You can’t breathe. You can’t look away.

He’s beautiful like this — so completely undone. Stripped of all that quiet control he wears like armor. His brows knit together with each stroke, muscles tensing in his thighs and stomach. It’s almost reverent, the way he moves. Like he’s chasing a ghost. Like he’s clinging to a fantasy.

Then you hear it.

Your name — soft, raw, whispered like a secret.

Your lips part.

He’s thinking of you.

The knowledge is fire in your veins. Your heart pounds, blood rushing hot under your skin. Before you can stop yourself, you lean your shoulder against the doorway — silently, confidently — letting the shadows cloak you in suggestion. A smirk plays at your lips.

“Don’t stop,” you say, voice low and unshaken.

Bucky jolts like he’s been electrocuted, eyes flying open, hand stilling immediately. “Sh*t—Y/N, I—” He scrambles for words. “I didn’t know you were—”

“I said don’t stop,” you repeat, stepping into the room like you own it, like the moment was yours all along.

He blinks. Disbelieving. But the hunger in his gaze returns fast — darker now, more desperate — when you reach behind yourself and slowly pull the zipper of your dress down, inch by inch. The silky fabric loosens over your shoulders, teasing skin, heat, promise.

“You wanted to get off thinking about me?” you ask, voice like silk over steel. “Go ahead. Show me how bad you wanted it.”

His breath hitches, but he obeys.

His hand moves again, rougher now — no longer careful, no longer pretending. He watches you the entire time, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. His eyes trace the curve of your body, the way your dress clings, the dangerous dip of your neckline, the way you tilt your head when you smile just so.

“Tell me,” you whisper as you step closer, hips swaying, “what were you thinking about?”

“You,” he breathes. “You in that dress. The way it hugged your body. The way you laughed when you walked past.” He groans. “The way I wished you’d come back to me.”

You sit at the edge of the bed, close enough that your perfume wraps around him like a noose.

“Did you imagine me doing this for you?” you ask, fingers dragging lightly along your own thigh. “Touching you? Watching you like this?”

“All the time,” he gasps. “But this—watching you watch me—f*ck.”

You cross your legs slowly, and the dress slides even higher. His eyes follow the movement like prey scenting blood.

“Faster,” you murmur.

He listens.

His hand moves faster, rhythm desperate now. His hips twitch, his breath catches, and every sound he makes is for you — a trembling offering at your feet.

“You’re doing so well,” you purr, leaning close enough that your breath brushes his cheek. “Such a good boy for me.”

The noise he makes is wrecked — guttural and desperate.

“You’re gonna come just from touching yourself, aren’t you?” you breathe, brushing your fingers featherlight along the inside of his knee. “Right in front of me?”

“Please,” he groans. “Please let me. I’m so close, I—God—”

“Then do it,” you say, your voice all velvet and command. “Come for me.”

And he does.

His whole body tenses, hips lifting off the bed as pleasure overtakes him — brutal and consuming. He moans your name like it’s the only word he remembers, spilling across his hand and stomach in thick, hot ropes. Every muscle quivers with it — every breath ragged.

The silence afterward is heavy. Sacred. Only the sound of his breathing fills the space.

You reach out and gently trail your fingers along the edge of his jaw — tender now, affectionate. His skin is flushed and damp, his hair tousled, his chest rising and falling with the aftershocks.

When he finally opens his eyes, they’re dark with awe. With need. With something that feels dangerously close to worship.

You smile down at him, slow and wicked.

“Next time,” you whisper, bending closer to brush your lips against his ear, “you’re not finishing alone.”

[tikkafreespirit]

under a ceiling full of stars

pairing: dbf!sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader x dbf!sugar daddy!bucky barnes

word count: 6.2k

summary: You’re learning the hard way that being in love can be difficult, especially since you’re in love with not just one, but two people. Two people who happen to be your father’s friends. Two people who happen to be your sugar daddies. Two people who happen to be married to each other. You’ve been trying not to think too hard about the consequences of falling in love with the men, but everything comes to a head one night when your father catches you with them. And, the ramifications of your secret are far worse than you anticipated. Luckily, Steve and Bucky are determined to make it right.

warnings: 18+ only pls and thank you, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, poly relationship, reader’s father is very verbally abusive so please beware, hints at physical abuse for like a sentence, r’s father is named Paul so i’m sorry to any Paul’s out there, mentions of blood, alot of fluff, and also angst, hurt/comfort, love confessions, happy ending

a/n: i have no idea where this came from but i hope y’all like it!!

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

“Wow.” Bucky is breathless, all the wind knocked out of him as he enters the room. It takes you a moment to notice his presence because you’re too focused on your reflection, eyes locked on the way the fabric of the dress sways as you twist your hips this way and that. It’s a deep red, satin little thing with a plunging neckline, though, not too risque given that the restaurant you’re going to is classier than most. The matching red heels and real gold accessories add to your appeal, and it makes you giddy inside. You don’t really care about others' opinions, but it makes you feel good when you get all dolled up.

Well, you do care about two other people’s opinions on your appearance.

One of those people, Bucky, has saddled up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. Finally, you look up to meet his gaze through the mirror, smiling when you see the mix of hunger and adoration in his eyes. While you know he appreciates you in any attire, you also know that he gets a little extra feral when you’re wearing something he bought for you.

This is the latest purchase. Well, technically, it was Steve’s doing. You three were out shopping – practically a bi-weekly occurrence at this point – when your eyes lingered on the outfit for more than three seconds. And when you didn’t ask for it, Steve decided that he’d buy it and have it shipped to his and Bucky’s house. Their excuse for not sending it directly to your apartment was, of course, that they wanted you to model it for them before they hastily undressed you in an attempt to get at your naked body.

Being with them for the last several months has been exhilarating, though you’re technically just their sugar baby. You’ve tried not to linger on your romantic feelings for the men, considering that they also happen to be your father’s friends, but it’s hard. Oh boy, is it hard not to fall a little in love with them whenever they dote on you, praise you, worship you. For now, you’re just trying to enjoy the time you have together before life inevitably rips you away from them.

“You’re so beautiful, have I ever told you that?” Bucky’s tone is teasing because he has, sometimes multiple times a day if he’s feeling especially sweet on you.

“Oh, only every day,” You tease back, placing your hands on his arms as they wind around your waist, your heart skipping a beat when he threads your fingers through his.

“Every day isn’t enough,” He sighs, almost as though he’s disappointed in himself for not showing you more affection. He then lets go of your hands so that he can turn you in his hold, now facing you directly. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek while the other is placed on your lower back. “I need to tell you every hour how your radiance lights up my day, even when I’m grumpy.”

Giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck, staring into his eyes even as his intense gaze makes you want to squirm. Sometimes you have a hard time believing that they want you, even if it is just for your body and your presence at outings whenever he and Steve get bored with work. But you’ve tried to push those feelings aside, not wanting to self-sabotage the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“You don’t need to tell me every hour, Bucky,” You say, leaning up to peck his lips to silence his objections. “I know just by the way you look at me. Your eyes give you away.”

“Well, I just can’t resist you. Can you blame me, princess?”

“No, I can’t.” Steve appears in the doorway of their bedroom, watching you both with such admiration that this time you do shy away, tucking your face into Bucky’s neck. After a moment, he pushes himself off the door frame, walking up behind you to trap you between their bodies.

“You are beautiful,” Steve murmurs in your ear, kissing your cheek, and then guiding your head up so he can kiss your lips as well. “Our sweet girl, always so perfect for us.”

His words make tears want to spring to your eyes, a stabbing pain in your heart at the sincerity of his words that make you ache for a real relationship with them. It hurts that you can’t be with them the way you want, and not just because of them most likely not feeling the same way. Your father would blow a fuse if he found out about the three of you, and you don’t even want to think about those consequences; just imagining what could happen makes you sick to your stomach.

“What time are the reservations?” For a moment, you consider trying to convince them to stay in tonight, wanting nothing more than to spend all night being pleasured by these two gods among men. But, you know they’ve been dying to take you to this particular restaurant, so you don’t want to dampen their excitement by cancelling.

“We have about twenty minutes before we need to leave,” Steve says after looking at his watch, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Well, if you can’t stay in tonight, at least you can have some fun before dinner.

The men seem to be thinking the same thing, because Bucky pulls away slowly after pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Keeping eye contact, he kneels on the ground before you, then takes hold of one of your calves, running his hand up and down the soft skin. Steve’s arms wrap around your middle, keeping you upright and steady so that Bucky can lift your leg over his shoulder. 

“Bucky,” You sigh, whining a little when he nips at the inside of your thigh.

“It’s alright, baby,” Steve murmurs, delicately kissing your neck. “Let Buck have his dessert.”

Shivers run down your spine, excitement flowing through your veins because you know something that they don’t. While you weren’t planning on revealing the information so soon, you know the evening will be even more fun if they know now.

“You’re not wearing any panties?” Bucky’s gruff voice cuts through your thoughts, and when you look down you can see that he’s hiked up your dress to your hips, exposing your soaked and bare pussy to his hungry eyes. He’s not even looking at you, he’s staring directly at your core, licking his lips as though he’s aching to dive in.

“Naughty girl,” Steve says, one hand staying on your waist while the other travels up to cup one of your breasts. Arching into his touch, you can’t help but whine again, heat filling your body as pure need overtakes your entire being. It’s been far too long since they’ve touched you, which is to say it’s been maybe seven hours. They meticulously took you apart several times that morning, not stopping until you were on the verge of passing out due to the overwhelming amount of orgasms and lack of food since they were insistent on not letting you leave the bed without making you cum at least four times.

“Only for you guys.” It’s true. You’ve never been so bold in any of your other relationships, never daring to do any of the dirty things Steve and Bucky have managed to get you to partake in. And, it’s not because you simply didn’t want to, you’ve just never found anyone that brings out this animalistic side of you, the side that aches to be filled and fucked at every hour of the day, willing to do whatever it takes to get their cocks or tongues or fingers.

“So fucking perfect,” Bucky murmurs, almost to himself. Then, he brings one hand up to your pussy, running his thumb along the slit and chuckling when you gasp and tilt your hips. “Keep her still.”

Steve does as instructed, holding you still so both you and Steve can stare down at Bucky as he leans in, a smirk on his beautiful face because he knows how his hot breath fanning across your wet lips are causing tingles to shoot down your spine. He’s too good at this, too good at drawing things out until you’re desperate and begging for more. Luckily, he doesn’t tease for long, because he must realize you don’t have a lot of time before dinner.

As soon as his tongue dips between your folds to flick over your clit, it’s over. The only way you can describe the way Bucky is licking you is feral. He’s told and shown you over and over again that he could spend hours eating you out, proving that point several times by tying you down and setting timers to see how long he really can last with his tongue buried in your hole.

Four hours, by the way. And it’s not because he doesn’t want to continue, but because you can only take so much. You passed out the first time you played that little game, and the men rewarded you with a cake the next day, the cursive style writing on top reading ‘Thank you for letting me eat you out for hours’. You’re not sure who they got to make it, but it made you laugh, and that’s all that really mattered to them.

Back in the present, you’re surprised when Steve pulls down one of the straps on your dress, tugging it until your breast spills free. Another gasp escapes your lips when he tugs on your nipple at the same time Bucky dips his tongue inside your quivering hole, and already you’re so close to coming. However, with them, it’s not that hard to make you cum. You’re always so easy for them, and no one is mad about it. They love that you’re always ready to spread your legs for them because they’re always eager to pleasure you, to give you the euphoria you deserve.

“You gonna cum, princess?” Steve asks, nipping and sucking your neck. He knows you are, you can hear it in his teasing tone, but you give him an answer any way by nodding your head, leaning back against Steve’s chest and trying - but failing - to thrust your hips into Bucky’s face.

“Give it to me,” Bucky grunts, barely pulling away from your pussy just so he can fit two fingers in your hole. You can feel him smirking against your core, but you’re not even mad at how smug he is. Honestly, he deserves to be; he knows his game is good. His tongue is fucking magic. “Cum all over my face, baby. Let me have it. It’s mine.”

You know you should probably be embarrassed by how quickly you cum considering how not long you’ve been at this, but you can’t find it in you to feel anything other than bliss. They take pride in making you come undone, so you’re never ashamed of how fast they get you to that edge.

Nor are you ashamed of how loudly you moan his name, your orgasm crashing through you when Bucky’s fingers stab at that special spot inside you at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth. It’s all too much, it’s too good, and your legs are trembling by the time you’re able to run your fingers through his hair and tug him back. A smirk of your own crosses your face when he moans, using his pain kink to your advantage.

Looking further down, you can see how large his bulge is, and you mentally curse the universe for not giving you enough time to get your mouth on him. Steve’s own erection is pressing into your back, and you let your hips roll back into his just to hear him hiss.

“Okay, princess,” Bucky says, a little breathless. His mouth and chin are shiny with your arousal, and your desire to clean him up with your tongue is quickly replaced with another wave of arousal when he stands and leans over your shoulder, carefully dropping your leg to the ground so he can grab the back of Steve’s neck and pull him forward.

You’re not sure which of the men moans when their lips connect; truthfully, it’s probably both of them. Steve wastes no time in licking into Bucky’s mouth, tasting your essence on his partner’s tongue as the kiss turns messy. They seem to be lost in their own worlds, openly moaning and sighing and rutting their hips into you to try to relieve their own need.

It’s not until the alarm on Steve’s phone rings that they break apart, both breathing heavily.

“I guess we should go,” You say with a contented hum, eager to go out now that you’ve had a little taste of the pleasure you know they’re going to bring you tonight.

“I guess we should, princess,” Steve says, kissing your forehead and smiling down at you. “Besides, we booked a corner booth, so we should be good to play a little at the restaurant.”

His wink makes you shiver, filthy thoughts filling your mind as they gather everything you need to leave.

“Another drink?” The waiter approaches your table, nodding to your nearly empty glass of wine, and taking it with a smile as he promises to return soon.

“How’s the food, princess?” Steve asks, sitting on your right with an arm thrown over the bench seat behind your head. He’s nearly finished his plate, as has Bucky, and you would have finished your food if not for their wandering hands distracting you.

“Oh, Stevie, it’s…” Your voice trails off, nerves flooding your body and causing your stomach to become queasy. You’re not sure why you looked away from him, scanning your eyes over the other patrons eating at their own tables, but you did. And you don’t know if you’re glad you did or not.

Because walking toward you is a beautiful young woman, dressed to the nines, with her arm hooked through another man’s arm.

Your father is that man.

While you know that your father frequently goes on dates with various women, you try not to think about it too much. After all, thinking about your father dating just feels weird to you. You don’t particularly mind that he does, but you’ve never known him to come to restaurants like this, which is part of the reason why you agreed to go out in public with Steve and Bucky.

But tonight he’s decided to break his usual routine and bring his date to one of the most exclusive places in Brooklyn, and your heart starts racing with nerves. There is absolutely no way he won’t see you sandwiched between his friends, eating at such a romantic restaurant, and not realize that you’ve been fooling around with them. For a moment, you don’t know what to do. You want to run and hide, maybe even duck down under the table to avoid him, but by the time you’re able to turn your gaze back to Steve, you know it’s too late to do anything other than face the music.

“What is it?” Bucky asks, furrowing his brows in concern. He must have noticed the way you tensed up, your hands becoming clammy as you disentangle them from his.

“My… My father -”

“Steve?” Your father’s voice cuts through your own frantic thoughts. Steve is sitting closest to the outside, so of course, he’s seen first. And Steve’s eyes widen when he hears the booming voice of his friend getting closer and closer.

“H-Hey,” Steve says, not at all confident. Clearly, he’s a little worried about how this will play out, too. And that does nothing to quell the anxiety fogging your mind.

“What are you…” Your father trails off, finally stopping at your table and locking eyes on you. You’re not looking at him, though, you can’t. You don’t want to see the confusion and anger in his gaze. “What are you doing here?”

You know he’s talking to you, that tone sending unpleasant shivers through your body as you tense even further. It’s not as mean as it usually is, but you figure he’s trying to control himself due to being in public. Knowing that you’re in public doesn’t do much to help, though, because you know you’ll eventually have to face him alone, and you’re absolutely dreading that conversation.

“We, um -”

“I’m not talking to you, James,” Your father spits out, noting how close he is to you, as well as Steve’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. “What are you doing here with them? Why are they touching you like that?” He asks you again, malice laced in every word. Tears spring to your eyes, and you can already feel the beginnings of a panic attack taking over.

“Dad, please don’t make a big deal out of this.”

“Don’t make a big deal?” He’s on the verge of shouting, and you can see nearby patrons looking over with curiosity, some with concern. “I shouldn’t make a big deal over my daughter getting cozy with my friends? How long has this been going on?”

“Paul, please -”

“Shut up, Steve!” Your father snaps at him, and you can’t stop the few tears that spill over your waterline. “How long have you been whoring yourself out to them?”

“Dad, stop!”

“Paul!” Bucky snaps back, straightening up. If you looked at him, you’d notice the confusion contorting his face at how your father is speaking to you, and you’re reminded once again that no one knows of the horrors your father has put you through. 

“No,” Your father yells, and you have to shuffle a little awkwardly so you can get around Steve and slide out of the booth.

“Please, don’t do this in public, Dad.” Your begging seems to work on some level, because your father stops yelling. But now that you’re close to him, he’s able to grab your wrist.

“Fine, we’ll do this at home.” Your father’s eyes are aflame with what can only be described as rage. Even though you knew he wouldn’t have a good reaction to finding out you’ve been sleeping with his friends, you didn’t really expect him to be this fired up. Especially in public.

You don’t even get to say goodbye to Steve and Bucky before he’s pulling you along with him, dragging you out of the entrance in silence as he shoots glares at you.

It’s silent the entire drive back home, and your heart hasn’t stopped pounding relentlessly even as he doesn’t pay you any mind. It’s nerve-wracking in the worst possible way, knowing that tonight is not going to go well makes you want to curl up under your bed like you used to when you were a child and he would get too drunk and loud. Only now, you’re an adult. And you can’t get out of this by hiding until he’s calmed down.

Everything is quiet, that is, until you both get inside.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Your father doesn’t even let the door shut before he’s shouting, following you into the living room as you toss your heels off. “They’re married, for fucks sake! Why were you draping yourself all over them? How long have you been fucking them? How long have you been hiding this from me?”

“Dad, if you would just let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to explain!” He cuts you off, spinning you around to face him. When you’re a child, everything is much scarier than it actually is. Everything is bigger, louder, more intense, and as an adult, you can still vividly remember all the nights you would sleep in your closet because your father turned into some monster that would stop at nothing to degrade you, and you just wanted to get away from him.

Right now, he’s worse than anything you’ve ever experienced. Though he’s never hit you, you wouldn’t doubt that he would do it tonight.

“You don’t need to tell me anything, because you’ll just lie to me. You’re a fucking slut! I mean, what were you thinking, sleeping with two married men? You clearly weren’t thinking with your brain because if you were, then you’d realize that you’re just wasting your time with them. You’ve been out here whoring yourself out to them, and probably more men. How many men have you let use you? I know it’s not just them!”

“Dad! No, it - it’s not like that!” You’re surprised you can even talk due to how heavily you’re crying, the sheer panic that has poisoned your blood that’s making you worry over passing out.

Distantly, you can hear a pounding at the front door, but clearly your father doesn’t because his grip on your arm tightens when you go to answer the knock.

“Don’t fucking leave when I’m trying to talk to you!” Spittle flies from his lips as he continues to scream at you, and you duck your head as though that will protect you from his ire. Another knock at the door causes his head to whip up, glaring at the front door as though he can will away whoever decided to interrupt.

“Go away!” He yells, turning back to you and shaking you as if that will get you to listen to him. “If I ever see you with them again I’ll -”

A loud bang stops your father in his tracks, the front door swinging open as Bucky and Steve rush in to find you with your makeup ruined by your tears and your father’s harsh grip on your arm.

“Paul! What the fuck?” Steve’s shout is almost as loud as your father’s, and the men barrel forward as they try to quickly assess the situation.

“Go away!” Your father yells again, and you wince when his grasp tightens. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

“Paul, please. Just calm down,” Bucky is trying to be levelheaded, but out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his clenched fists. Knowing that they’ve come to help does make your beating heart calm down a little, but you know it won’t last. Your father will just throw them out and continue berating you.

“No!” Your father shouts, shaking your arm again. “Don’t try to pretend you actually care about her!” Turning to you, he leans even further into your space. “They don’t care about you, and they never will. You’re nothing more than a whore.”

“Paul!” Both Steve and Bucky move forward, but your father just drags you back.

“We do care about her -”

“No you fucking don’t!” Your father cuts Steve off, and there are too many emotions swirling through your head, there’s too much noise, everything is just too much. The yelling, the degradation, the complete chaos of the night are crescendoing into madness.

“Stop!” You yell through your sobbing, trying desperately to yank your arm out of your father’s hand. The action does nothing but force your father to hold you even tighter so you can’t escape, and you’re surprised you’re still conscious due to how heavy you’re breathing and how cloudy your mind is. “Please, everyone, stop!”

“Shut up!” Your father is about to go off again, but then Steve yanks your father off of you, pushing him back as Bucky steps in front of you to protect you from the punch your father throws at Steve.

He misses because Steve simply steps to the side, but that seems to make him angrier, obviously itching to take out his rage on someone. He swings again, but this time Steve catches his arm, blocking the hit and pushing your father to the ground. The thud of him hitting the ground makes you flinch, curling into Bucky’s back as though you can disappear to a place where this isn’t happening, where your world hasn’t been turned completely upside down. 

“Why do you think you can talk to your own daughter this way?” You’ve never heard Steve so angry; he’s fuming, really. And even though you can’t see him, you know his face is twisted with a kind of infuriation you could never imagine. “You don’t have any right to talk down to her like this.”

“She’s my fucking daughter!” Your father shouts back, and by the sounds of shuffling, you assume that he’s standing again, presumably to continue the fight. “I can talk to her however I want! Besides, you two are just using her anyway, so what do you -”

You’ve never heard anyone being punched; you know that it can be a sickening crunch, a loud thud, but you’ve never actually heard it for yourself until tonight. For a moment, you’re worried that your father hit Steve, but when your father yelps in pain, you know it was the other way around. And you have never known Steve to be even remotely violent, but something in him must have snapped when your father said that they were using you. At least you can take comfort in knowing that they won’t let you continue to be verbally abused.

“You don’t know anything, Paul,” Bucky grunts through clenched teeth, turning so he can wrap his arms around you and tuck your face into his chest. You can feel him shaking with anger, and you know he must want to join Steve in hurting your father. Your hands clenching his suit jacket prevent him from moving, though, so he keeps holding you.

“You know what? Fine! If you want her to be your whore then do it, but it won’t happen under my roof.” Risking a glance up, you see your father lying on the ground and bleeding heavily from his nose. When he sees you looking at him, he points a finger at you. “Get out! Get out and don’t fucking come back!”

Suddenly, black spots cloud your vision. You were already on the verge of passing out, but now the fear of being kicked out and on your own makes you heave as you gasp for breath. 

“Bu-Bucky,” You whimper, almost too low for anyone to hear, but Bucky hears you. And he must notice how distraught you are because he quickly hooks an arm under your legs, lifting you to cradle you to his chest.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” He coos at you, kissing your forehead, then nodding to Steve. “I’ll take her to the car.”

You can barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears, but you can make out your father’s “Good riddance!” through the fog. Sobs wrack your body, and you can’t stop crying even when Bucky carries you outside, not even when he opens the car door and sets you down on the seat, not even when you cling to him because you crave his comfort. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, shaking in Bucky’s arms as he tries to console you, but you know it must be a while.

You don’t even notice when Bucky takes your hands and places them on his chest, rubbing the backs of your hands and murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. Eventually, you’re able to make out a few words, mostly just “breathe, baby” and “it’s okay” and “listen to my voice.” It’s hard to shake yourself out of your panic, but you’re able to recognize that Bucky is doing his best to calm you down, so you follow his instructions and begin to slow your breathing, inhaling and exhaling when he does, until you can finally take notice of your surroundings. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before you lift your head, wanting to start crying all over again when you see that your makeup has ruined Bucky’s jacket.

“I-”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky says, already knowing what you were going to say. “I don’t care about the suit, all I care about is making sure you’re okay.”

Both of you sigh, and you hang your head in an attempt to get away from the sympathy etched across his face. You don’t want to see it right now, you’re too muddled with emotions to be able to even understand that this is the first time anyone has seen the way your father treats you.

“What am I going to do, Bucky? I - I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You’re staying with us,” Steve says, appearing behind Bucky holding a suitcase. “I grabbed your essentials, and Buck and I will come back tomorrow for the rest of your things.” He’s still clearly fired up, and you can see that his hands are a little more bloodied and bruised than they were when you were taken away from the argument.

“Steve, I can’t -”

“You’re not burdening us.” Just like Bucky, Steve is able to read your mind, and once he puts the suitcase in the trunk of the car, he scoots Bucky out of the way so he can take your face in his hands. “You’re not a burden to us. And you’re certainly not a whore, or any of the other awful things he said to you.”

You want to cry again, but you can’t, you’re simply too drained to do anything other than hold his wrists so he’ll keep touching you. Looking into his eyes, your bottom lip trembles, and you lean up to press a small kiss on his chin.

“You promise?” Your voice is small and, quite frankly, a little pathetic. You hate that you have to ask for reassurance that you’re not all those horrible things your father said to you, but you need the confirmation, you need to know that at least someone doesn’t think of you the way your father does.

“We promise.” Steve leans down and kisses your forehead, brushing his lips across your cheeks to dry them off before pecking your lips.

“Now, let’s go home.”

When you finally get to Steve and Bucky’s house - well, yours now, too - you make a dash to the bathroom, anxious to get out of your clothes and wash your face. Once you get to the bathroom, you toss out the idea of a shower; you don’t have the energy to do anything other than wipe your makeup off and rip the dress from your body. Mentally, you mourn the loss, the dress was beautiful, after all. But you don’t care that much right now, you don’t actually know what you’re feeling. Almost numbly, you look into the mirror, staring at your reflection. You know the person staring back at you is you, but you don’t quite comprehend it.

A knock at the door shakes you from your thoughts, and even though your naked form usually causes the men to drool, they don’t try anything when you open the door and step out, immediately shivering from the air conditioning. Bucky stands in front of you, helping you into one of his casual shirts while Steve appears with a pair of your underwear, also aiding you in putting those on. When you’re dressed, you avoid their gazes, fiddling with your fingers as you try to figure out how you’re going to go about this.

“Can… Can we go outside?” Your voice is so small that you think of asking again, just to make sure they heard you, but they show that they were listening by Bucky lifting you in his arms again. 

“Of course we can, princess,” Steve says softly, rubbing your cheek with his thumb before stepping aside and following you down the stairs and to the back garden.

Normally, you love coming out here, especially at night. The stars always seem to shine brighter in Steve and Bucky’s backyard, and their lounge chairs and strung-up fairy lights make you feel at home. Tonight, you can’t really muster up those positive emotions, you just want to forget the night even happened. But, you know you have some explaining to do.

Once you’re sitting on one of the couches with both men on either side of you, you stare up at the sky, jumping ever so slightly when they both cover your hands with theirs. Neither of them says anything, though, allowing you to take the lead.

But, where do you even start? You’re not sure quite how to explain it to them, but when Steve gives you his ever-loving smile, you know you need to try.

“He… My father has never been the best man, you know? He puts on a facade for the world, volunteering, hosting parties, holiday bonuses at work, and all that. But, he’s never been… He’s never been that way with me. Everything is always my fault. I can’t do anything right. If I lose a boyfriend, it’s because I’m too ugly; if I failed a test in school, it’s because I was too stupid; if I make even one mistake, then it’s because I’m incompetent. Nothing I ever do is good enough for him, and he always makes sure I know that.”

You have to pause so you can sniffle, looking away from Steve so you can look up at the twinkling stars again. Tightening your grip on their hands, you take a shaky breath.

“It’s always been like this. And I never told anyone because no one can do anything about it anyway. He never hit me, and everyone thought he was just the perfect guy, so no one would believe me anyway. I, I just…” You have to shut your eyes, more tears causing them to sting. “I’ve been dealing with him for so long. And even if you guys did believe me, I didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him.”

Glancing between the men, you whimper a little, your bruised heart cracking when you see how utterly horrified they are.

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Princess,” Steve sighs, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not going to lose us, ever.”

“Everything he said to you was wrong, baby,” Bucky continues, kissing your temple and letting you lean on his shoulder. “You’re not a whore, and we most certainly weren’t using you. We care about you.”

“We love you,” Steve says, and time seems to slow down. Your eyes find his, desperately searching for any hints of humor because you wouldn’t be able to handle them lying to you just to make you feel better. But you don’t find any humor. You don’t see anything but love etched onto his face. He means it when he says it, and you can’t help but chuckle a little. Not necessarily because the situation is funny, you just don’t know how tonight has once again flipped your world around.

“You do?”

“Of course we do,” Bucky says, soft and low, like it’s just for you. “We love you so much, baby. We never said anything because we didn’t know how you felt, and we didn’t want to lose you either. But… After tonight, Steve and I both know that there’s no way we can hide it any longer.”

All at once, despite the trauma of the night's events, a huge smile makes its way onto your face. You can’t really feel anything other than love, love from them and for them. You never expected them to feel the same way you do, and you never expected it to come to light like this, but you’re a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. So, even though you’re still upset, you let yourself fall into your new life, a life filled with Bucky and Steve and love and care.

“I love you, too.” Both men almost immediately let out sighs of relief, like they were hoping you would return the sentiment. But how couldn’t you? They’re the perfect men, always so kind, caring, making sure you’re warm and safe. It’d be impossible not to fall in love with them. After a few moments of contented silence, you turn so you can kiss Bucky’s lips, then shift so you can kiss Steve, too.

“So, I’m really living here?”

“If you want to,” Steve says, though by his tone, you know he really wants you to say yes.

“We’ll set up the spare room if you don’t want to sleep in our bed,” Bucky pipes up, running his thumb along the back of your hand. “But we want you here. We always will.”

“And if I do want to sleep in your bed?” You know that they want that too, but you enjoy teasing them anyway.

“Then we’ll get some more of those fluffy pillows you like and clear off some shelves in our room for your things.” Steve sounds so sure, and knowing that he’s clearly thought this over makes you all soft and giddy.

“Well, that’s settled then.” It’s clear that you’re tired just by your voice, not to mention the big yawn you let out, but no one makes a move to go inside. Instead, you all adjust yourselves so you can sit sideways on Bucky’s lap with your legs thrown over Steve’s, happy to sit under a ceiling full of stars and ruminating on the love you have for your men.

And if you accidentally fall asleep tucked into their bodies, well, it’s not like they’re anxious to move either.

[tikkafreespirit]

Loved this 10000/10 🥰🥰

Beefy Bucky is SOOO hot

wet dreams

boyfriend!bucky x f!reader

18+ men and minors dni! smut — p in v. fingering (r). you’re riding bucky’s arm. multiple orgasms. oral (r). bucky jerks himself off while eating you out.

a/n — iykyk <3 very very old repost. so lucky i had a fic for this cause i have been thinking of riding his arms so bad.

you were enamored by bucky arms. and i mean absolutely whipped. the way they looked in a red henley, about to burst at the seams. how they looked when he was shirtless — his metal on full display, and especially how they looked wrapped around your hips as he held you down and ate you out for hours. you couldn’t tell him that though, he’d only make fun of you for it.

like he was doing right now.

“you okay, doll?” he waved his hand in front of your face getting you to stop focusing on his muscle, and to his gaze. his lips are up in a smirk as he instantly makes the connection. bucky was too smart for you, you knew that much.

“uh, yeah i’m okay.” you make a fake cough as you spoke, peeling your gaze from him and focused on cutting the tomatoes for your dinner. but he knew you weren’t just doing okay.

“you know,” he trailed off, coming around the counter and behind you, his arms placed on your hips where they belonged. his chin rested on your shoulder, his longer brown strands of hair tickling your cheek and nose pointed towards your neck as he spoke softly. “i can tell when you’re lying, baby.” his hot breath hit your skin and you shuddered, a shiver running down your spine and right to your cunt.

you faltered as you cut the tomato, and he caught that, he always did. he could read you body like an open book, the way you fidgeted when you were nervous, when you were distracted by something you mindlessly did the task at hand. and he knew right in this moment, you were thinking of only the way his hard cock pressed up against your lower back.

“bucky..” you breathed out as his hands went to hold yours, taking the knife away and setting it down. his lips tenderly kissed your neck, sucking softly as his hands went right back to your waist. his left hand trailed down the front of your pelvis, right to your clothed core.

your head fell back on his shoulder, the cologne he had put on earlier mixed with a hint faint smell of mint still lingering on him and enveloping you in just him. your senses heightened as his hand dipped below your waistband, cupping your cunt. he purred against your neck, smiling.

“so wet for me, doll. this all for me?” his tone deepened the more turned on he got as his metal fingers ran through your folds. you made the mistake of looking down and watching as his muscles flexed as he moved his fingers causing you to clench around nothing. of course he caught that.

“what’s got ya so wet, hm?” you shook your head, he already knew the answer so why did he want you to say it out loud. he tsked. his middle finger toying with your clit in soft, small circles. “you don’t wanna tell me?”

“n-no.” you’re breath was shaking from the way his fingers played with your clit, your thighs flexing on and off. he hummed in your ear, biting your earlobe before pulling away all together. you whined softly, looking behind you as he rested up against the back of the counter.

“baby..” he smirked softly, crossing his arms and making the muscle look bigger.

“guess you won’t cum, doll.” you frowned, turning around and walking up to him, your fingers tracing over the muscle of his arms softly. a sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed by you as you saw goosebumps raise on his skins

“was thinking about your arms, how good they look when you’re playing with my pussy,” you spoke softly, fingers going down to his fingers. “the way your muscles flex as your gripping onto my hips, thighs, keeping me down as you eat me out..” he let out a groan as you picked his hand up, holding his two fingers and patting your lips as you put them in your mouth and sucked on them softly. the cool twang of metal hit your tongue, the ones you could feel in your pussy still from the night before.

“shit, baby.” his other hand went right to your hip, pulling you as close as he could so you could feel the outline of his cock pressed against your clothed cunt. you moaned softly feeling it against you, drool falling down the sides of your mouth from gagging on his fingers as he fucked your mouth, taking them out and slapping your cheek lightly, getting spit over your skin

his hands went to your waist and turned you around, hoisting you up on the counter and spreading your legs so he slot perfectly in between him.

“right where i belong, don’t ya think?” his hands trailed down your thighs and squeezed them softly, watching as his muscles flexed and you could help the moan that left your lips as you watched him.

your hands linked around the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair as he debated on his next move. obviously he couldn’t wait any longer, the noises you were making as he just grazed his fingertips across your skin. he pulled you to the edge of the counter, enough to take your pants and panties off and discarding them somewhere. he shed his pants and boxers, and you licked your lips as you saw his red the tip of his cock was. it stood straight up, pre-cum leaking down the side of his shaft.

you let out a whine as he dropped to his feet, throwing your legs over his shoulders and his hands keeping your thighs separated. he came level with your cunt, licking his lips as he leaned in and his tongue met your dripping folds. you let out a moan, your hands going to his short dark hair and tugging on it gently.

he hummed against you, his nose brushed your clit as he continued to lick your cunt, tip of his tongue teasing your entrance.

“d-don’t tease.. please..” he smirked against your cunt, nudging your clit harder and started to thrust his tongue in and out of you, groans leaving his lips as he fucked you with his mouth. bucky’s tongue was sinful, he shouldn’t be allowed to eat pussy this good but he was, and he ate it like a starved man.

as he fucked you skillfully with his tongue, his left hand left your knee and went to his cock, and started to jerk himself off, smearing his pre cum up and down the length of his shaft. only a real man would jerk himself off while eating pussy. and you knew it was his favorite pastime.

“cant tell ya how fuckin’ divine you taste.” as you rolled your hips the best you could on his tongue, he sped up his hand movements on his cock as he licked your cunt and sucked on your clit. your hands tugged on his hair, watching as his fingers gripped your thigh surely to leave marks and his muscles flexing as you knew he was close.

“s-so close, bucky p-please-“ you let out a choked moan as he sucked harshly on your clit making your eyes roll back and your back arched, moaning his name. your orgasm washed over you as you heard him moan against you, his hand quickening his pace on his cock as he came to the sound and taste of you cumming on his tongue.

he pulled back, licking his lips as he looked up at you, a glint in his eyes telling you he was far from done with you yet. he stood up and gripped the back of your thighs, moaning softly as the shaft of his cock pressed against your wet cunt, carrying you back to the bedroom and tossing you down. he looked down at you hungrily, your legs spread open for him as he discarded his shirt.

he then lays down on the bed, half sitting up against the pillows and the other half stretched across the bed. you looked over at him as he stuck his pointer finger up and beckoned you over.

you crawled over to him, his right arm laying against the sheets. you blushed as he pointed to his arm. “c’mere, take a seat.” you he spoke you saw his blue eyes darken, licking his bottom lip. you didn’t have to be told twice when you shuffled towards his arm, thighs on either side and slowly sat down until his soft skin was against your cunt.

he flexed his arm, making you moan with pleasure as it rubbed against your clit, his muscles hitting the right spot as his other hand landed on your waist, moving your hips against his arm.

“ride my arm like you ride my cock, doll . can you do that for me?” you nodded, feeling his arm become wetter as you rubbed your cunt on his skin, his eyes never leaving your pussy rubbing his muscle. his arm flexed up so his hand was on your lower back, and that made you moan softly, feeling the corded muscles create a perfect spot for you to rub your clit over and over until you moan out his name.

“go on, cum for me, sweetheart.” you did as you were told, not that you needed him to anyways as you came on his arm. your breathing was heavy as your nails dug into his bicep, creating small crescent moons on his delicate skin.

he flipped you over easily, pinning you under him as he caged you in, his arms on either side of your head and your cum trailing down his arm and onto his hand. you couldn’t focus as he thrusted into you, not giving you any warning.

“shit, so fuckin’ wet. can slip so easily in this sweet cunt, hm?” you whined as he pulled his hips back before slamming back into you, your legs around his waist and the heels of your feet digging against the flesh of his ass to push his hips deeper inside you.

“deeper? fuck, nasty lil thing? gettin’ off on my arm like a slut, wantin’ my cock deeper in your cunt. shit..” he grunted out, dipping his head into your neck, biting the skin harshly making you moan out. he couldn’t think of anything else except how tight your pussy was — how it continued to suck him in deeper and deeper, and the only thing he could feel was you.

“bucky! fuck!” your hands tugged on his hair, making him groan against you. he set a brutal pace as his hand reached down to toy with your throbbing clit, clenching around him which drew out a loud moan from his lips.

“can i get another one out of you? doesn’t matter, give it to me anyways.” you couldn’t help but clench around him as he spoke, knowing your cunt was sensitive already as his cock dragged along your walls but you were eager to cum again, cum around his cock.

“come on, babydoll. give it to me, cum ‘round my cock.” he spoke lowly in your ear as you moved your hips slightly upwards, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot and his fingers circling your clit made your fingers drag down his back and leave fresh red lines as you came.

“atta baby, there ya go.. fuck.. gunna fill my sweet pussy up so fuckin’ full. you want it?” he pulled back as his eyes met yours and you nodded through your orgasm wanting nothing more than to have him fill you up.

as you clenched around him after your orgasm, he couldn’t hold it back. his forehead dropped to your shoulders as he pressed his hips flush against yours, making his cock go deep, filling you up. he came with a loud moan, biting down on your skin.

“fuck.. bucky..” he smiled against your skin as he lazily pressed kisses over your sweaty skin, nudging your jaw with his nose until his lips met yours.

“so perfect for me, ya know that?” you smiled softly as you both relaxed and melted into each other.

[tikkafreespirit]

This made me start to tear up ngl. This is the first John walker comfort fic I have found ever and OMGGG this is the best thing I’ve read all day!!! I love your work sooo much. ( and definitely wasn’t stalking your page and happened to be here early)😂

shoulder to cry on

pairing: john walker x thunderbolt!reader, matt murdock x reader (platonic/very brief)

summary: john was the only one of the thunderbolts that you hadn’t bonded with above an acquaintance level. but, he was always there quietly brooding. so, when you find him crying in the middle of the night, you know you have to help him.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: brief cameo from everyone’s favorite devil from hell’s kitchen for no better reason than i wanted to

You walked into the empty Watchtower— the only sound in the air was the distant whirring of the air conditioning.

It was well past midnight, and you’d just returned from a mission. A solo mission that had been as straightforward as they come. Everything had gone perfectly to plan, getting the data you needed to retrieve with no complications.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you approached the kitchen and heard the sound of glass breaking.

You instinctively grabbed your gun out of your thigh holster, jogging into the kitchen. In the dark, it was hard to distinguish who the man slumped over the island counter was.

Until he turned to look at you.

“John?” You asked, confused.

You quickly flicked on the light switch. Then, the full scene unfolded in front of you.

First, you noticed his tear-stained eyes. Then, you saw a pile of empty beer bottles scattered around the counter— one being shattered on the floor behind him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked stepping closer to the man that you still felt you didn’t know.

The New Avengers had been together for a couple months. You’d gotten to know every other member of the team, and they felt like your friends.

Alexei would show you old documentaries about Russia and tell you anecdotes about living there. You and Bucky played darts together every Friday night. You’d spent hours training with Yelena and Ava. Hell, even Bob had opened up to you— usually over late night ice cream runs.

But, John was different.

Quiet. Brooding. Mysterious.

The only time he ever spoke to you was about missions. Nothing beyond that— nothing personal.

It felt like you were the only one he ignored. And you didn’t know why.

You pulled the bottle out of his hand— surprised when his grip instantly loosened, letting you take it.

As you set it down on the counter, John enveloped you in a hug. His large arms tightly wrapped around your waist. He buried his face in your neck.

You just stood there stunned for a few seconds.

Then, you felt his body start to shake as he sobbed in your arms.

You hesitantly wrapped your arms around him, running your hands up and down his back. Seeing him like this was such a contrast to the picture of strength he usually tried to convey.

“I don’t want to lose him.” He mumbled in between tears. His voice was slightly muffled.

“Lose who?” You asked, cupping the back of his head gently.

There was another minute of silence.

“My son,” he muttered, weakly. His body collapsing against yours. All his energy was gone. You could almost feel the hope leaving his body. You held him up, letting him get it all out.

You were surprised that you were the one he was confiding in, so you didn’t want to let him down. You wanted to be the one thing he could rely on if his whole world was going to shit.

“C’mon, honey. Let’s go sit down.” You said, leading him towards the couch in the living room. You weren’t sure where the pet name came from— it just slipped out. You were just trying to rely on any maternal or nurturing instincts.

When you sat down beside him, you saw the tears rolling down his cheeks. You pulled your sleeve over your hand, softly wiping away his tears.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him, softly. It was like you were talking to a timid animal, and you didn’t want to scare it away.

You noticed his hesitancy. You wrapped your hand around his, softly giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Olivia said if I got a stable job and went to therapy and tried to work on myself that we’d talk about visitation. And I have…I’ve worked so damn hard. But, she called today and said she changed her mind. I miss him so much— I don’t know what to do.” He explained.

You felt stupid for how concerned you’d been about him never really talking to you. He had much more important stuff going on. You hated that you hadn’t seen it sooner.

“I am so sorry, John.” You said, pulling him to a hug. He relaxed against your body— almost feeling soothed by your touch.

He hadn’t felt this close to someone since Olivia left. And he didn’t want to let you go. “I’m so alone,” he mumbled, the words muffled against your hair.

“You’re not. I promise. I’m right here.” You assured him.

He slowly pulled away. You were worried you’d pushed him too far.

The expression on his face was…pure. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked lovestruck.

He reached towards you with his hand, rough calloused fingertips brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. His eyes glanced down, lingering on your lips for a second.

Suddenly, there was a buzzing between the both of you. You felt like your senses were on overdrive. Like there was too much going on for your brain to focus on one thing.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, letting his hand cup your cheek.

He was sad. He was lonely. He missed his son. He didn’t actually want this…want you. He was just distraught. You reminded yourself.

“You’re drunk.” You told him, so you wouldn’t have to lie and say you didn’t want this.

He shook his head. His hand moved to your chin, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “I’m not, well, I can’t…super soldier serum and all. Trust me, I tried.” His voice came out at a whisper.

“We shouldn’t. You’re upset about your son.” You made more excuses. His lips were only millimeters away from yours— with every breath, you could feel yourself inching closer.

“If you don’t want this, that’s fine. But only tell me to stop if you don’t want this. I promise I’m thinking clearly. I want this— I want you.” He responded. You felt your stomach doing flips, like you were on a rollercoaster.

“I want you too.” The words escaped your lips before you were even sure what you’d said.

He closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours. He tasted like beer, with a pinch of saltiness from the tears that had dried above his lips.

His lips moved naturally against yours, like they were destined to. His hands found your hips, tugging you closer to him.

He didn’t want any distance between the two of you. All the good things in his life felt like they were being pulled away from him, and he didn’t want the same to happen to you.

He slowly pressed you down, so you were lying on the couch. He crawled on top of you and brought his lips back to meet yours. He felt your breathing as you laid below him— it felt like the only thing convincing him that he was real.

His hands slipped under your shirt, ghosting over your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“John…not like this.” You mumbled, pulling out of the kiss.

He stopped kissing you, and you could see how much it pained him.

“We’ve never even had a real conversation before tonight. You’re really telling me you’ve wanted this? We don’t even know each other.” You told him. It was hard to keep yourself from kissing him when you were this close to him. His cologne smelled like a campfire and felt so inviting.

“Of course, we know each other. We’ve been working together for months.” He said, continuing to deny the fact that he’s shut you out for that entire time period.

“We talk about strategy and tactics. We don’t actually talk about anything real.” You told him.

He sat up, scooting to the other side of the couch. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of you being hurt by him pushing you away.

“It’s cause I like you, okay?” He said, but his gaze was glued to his lap. He couldn’t dare look you in the eyes.

Before you could respond, he started talking again. “I don’t know how to do this. What if I let you in and you see how fucked up I am? And then, you leave me just like Olivia did.” He admitted.

You scooted closer to him, interlacing your fingers with his. He looked at your hands and then finally at your face. He was relieved to see you smiling.

“Just take it slow. I promise, you’re not the only one who’s fucked up.” You told you, softly pecking his lips.

“Let’s get you to bed, and we can talk more in the morning. It’s late.” You told him.

He begged you to stay with him. You couldn’t resist the puppy eyes that he gave you. So, you laid beside him and let him hold your hand, so he could fall asleep.

When you woke up, he was completely curled up against you. His arm was haphazardly thrown over your stomach, and his legs were tangled with yours.

You looked down at where his head was resting on your chest. You brushed his messy hair out of his face

After thirty minutes of you admiring him, he started to stir. His eyes immediately shot to where he was holding you. “Sorry,” he quickly muttered as he pulled himself away from you and stretched.

“Don’t be. It’s nice.” You whispered back, softly. A blush appeared on his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

You rolled over to face him. “So, I was thinking about what you said yesterday about Olivia and custody. Before I got powers, I used to be a lawyer. I have a friend, he’s one of the best. I asked him if he could come over and meet with you today, if that’s okay with you.” You told him.

“Are you kidding? Thank you so much.” He tugged you into a bear hug, rolling on top of you.

“Of course, you’re a hero. You deserve to see your son.” You replied, hugging him back.

You both were sitting in the living room later when he walked in from the elevator— Matthew Murdock.

“Matt! Thank you for coming.” You said, walking over and pulling him into a hug.

You quickly introduced the two men. “So, I hear you’re an Avenger now? You ever miss the nights you spent with little old Matt Murdock?” Matt asked, referencing the nights you spent working together as vigilantes.

“Wait…did you guys?” John asked, mistaking the joke as innuendo.

“Don’t worry, pal. It wasn’t like that.” Matt assured him, but John was still skeptical. You both seemed really close— closer than coworkers.

You wrapped your arm around John’s waist. “John, you ever heard of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” You asked him.

John furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “The vigilante? Who hasn’t.” He replied, simply.

“Well, now you’ve met him.” You said, gesturing towards Matt. Slowly, you watched the realization set in on John’s face. “So, when you said you worked together…you meant like hero stuff.” John said.

“Hero’s a complicated word, but essentially, yes.” Matt responded.

Matt spent a couple hours with John going over what would be required for a case. Then, with a handshake for John and a hug for you, he left.

“So, you just have a thing for having superhero boyfriends?” John asked, turning towards you and raising his eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes at him. “I told you. We did not date.” You promised as John leaned in to kiss you.

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[tikkafreespirit]

Backwards cap

——💥——💥——💥——💥——

Pairing: John Walker x F!Reader

Warning: smut 18+ MDNI, minor angst, fluff, swearing, wholesome John moment, not proofread

A.N: If there’s one thing I love more than an insufferable man, it’s an insufferable man in a backwards cap 🫡

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——💥——💥——💥——💥——

You weren’t quite sure who came up the plan of a ‘friendly’ game of American football by the park near the watchtower but one Sunday afternoon you all found yourselves there in sports gear getting placed into teams.

John somehow ended up allocating himself as a team captain because his direct words were. “I was one- Captain America.”

“More like cap-pain-in my ass-rica.” You retorted with folded arms, he tossed a glare in your direction between throwing the football casually up in the air wearing an old jersey top from his previous football team with a Bear on the back alongside his number, sweats and a baseball cap that said: ‘Women want me, fish fear me.’

He allocated everyone into teams- very original- boys versus girls. Bob insisted he would sit and cheer from the sidelines but you insisted he played, always looking out for the shy, timid man. “It’s okay, we won’t go after you, it’s that asshole we want to tackle the most.” You said, nodding to John who was forming a game plan off to the side.

Bob sighed “Wish I was on your team…”

You smiled, taking hold of his arms and shouting out “Bob is on our team!” John went to open his mouth to fight back but you got on there first. “Nope! No take-backs he is ours now, c’mon Bob.” You dragged him towards Ava and Yelena.

“Let’s just kick thier asses.” Yelena said in a ready to fight tone. “Wipe that stupid smirk of Walker’s face.” You glanced over your shoulder to the boys, surprised to see John already looking over at you with that said smirk on his face. You pondered for a moment, it wasn’t stupid, it was kinda cute and emphasised his sweet little dimples-

“Y/N?” Ava’s voice brought you out of your trance. “On board with that plan?”

“Uh yeah,” you nodded and then squeezed your eyes shut. “Wait-sorry. What plan?”

Bob snorted, catching you admiring John from afar. “Yeah this plan is perfect for you.” He clasped his hands together “You’ll tail Walker. Take him down however you can. Tackle. Taunt him. Flaunt him some skin,” he wiggled his eyebrows and your eyes went wide at his words. He groaned “Come on! Don’t tell me you didn’t put that sports bra under your hoodie for nothing if not for him?”

Yelena glanced between the two of you. “Wait…” pieces clicked in her head and she widely grinned. “You like Walker?” She said almost a little too loud and you covered her mouth with your hand.

“Shh! I do not!” You quietly hissed. “Don’t give him a bigger head than he already has. Plus, I do not like him!” You countered, feeling your palms suddenly getting clammy and a heat rising within you. The rest of your small but perfectly formed team looked at you unconvinced of your argues- especially after you reiterated twice. “Let’s just win this.” You grumbled.

“Let’s do this!” Alexei practically howled.

You all aligned in the centre of the field, a coin was tossed to make it fair who’d start off. Yelena nudged you towards John, you bent over and looked up to him, he did the same, the lid of his cap bumping against your forehead causing you to scrunch your face at the sudden contact. “Ow! That’s a foul!”

John groaned “We haven’t even started yet!” Your eyes widened as if to silently argue with him.

“Why do you even have that cap on? The first part is incorrect anyway…” you joked and Bob and Bucky loudly snorted.

“Sweat catcher. And it is correct.” He matter-of-factly stated.

You sent him a deadpanned expression “Gross.” You replied to both statements, the two of you now on the verge of bickering like children.

He rolled his eyes and flipped it backwards. “Happy now?”

You nodded tightly. You were more than happy at the sight before you. That simple manoeuvre of swapping his hat around sent your world into a frenzy. How his eyes caught the light that wasn’t being blocked, or how much you just wanted to grip onto it while looking into those eyes, how you wanted him in that backwards baseball cap and nothing else…

He practically oozed frat fuck boy energy.

Or just a frat boy you’d like to fuck.

You hadn’t quite decided.

The ball was tossed in between all of you by Bob, bringing you back into reality. The whole team grunted and groaned trying to capture it first. Bucky managed to get it and make the first touchdown for the team. The boys cheered, you all rolled your eyes at them.

The ball was thrown and you held your hands out to catch it, your eyes on the ball coming towards you. So hyper-focused you didn’t realise the super solider was coming towards you either. John had his back to you, his eyes on the ball as well. Your fingertips grasped into the ball just as John crashed against you and you both fell back with a grunt.

You made a winning point with the man still on top of you. “Ugh C’mon Walker! Seriously?” His chest was pressed against yours, both of you twisted together from the way he landed against you. “Move you clown!” His body remained in place but his red flushed face moved, now inches from yours. You could have sworn his eyes were locked to your lips.

John felt the burning heat from your breath dance across his face when you asked him to move- again. His body was on fire from the sudden contact with you, finding himself in a position with you that he had often fantasied about- just with less clothes. “You were in my way,” he spoke with a gruff, finally moving after what felt like years in the eyes of your team but not enough time for the two of you. He extended a hand almost begrudgingly to you and you swatted it away, standing up on your own.

“Ahh jeez!” You walked towards your team looking down at your hoodie now covered in grass stains.

“Would be a shame if it had to come off…” Yelena said in a sing-song voice. The game was nearing its end and you had to pull out the big guns you guessed. It was tight right up to the final point.

The ball was being tossed back and forth and just when the boys were taking the lead with it, you whipped off your hoodie and revealed the black sports bra underneath, suddenly feeling very exposed. All the boys heads whipped to you at the sudden exposure of skin, like flys to honey. John had the ball but was frozen on the spot, a soft ‘holy shit,’ escaped his lips under his breath at the sight of you. He didn’t even realised he licked them like he had been starved for years and you were going to be his first meal.

That gave Ava the chance to tackle him.

He fell to the ground with a breath escaping his lungs. Bob grabbed the football and sprinted to the line and tossed the ball down, winning the game for you and the girls. You all cheered while the boys groaned, John still lying on the ground in defeat.

The three of you all picked up Bob and carried him in the air with the football in his hand.

“You got too distracted!” Bucky complained standing over John who hadn’t budged.

“And you didn’t?! How can you not?!” John’s voice was strained as he sat up. “Look at her! She did that on purpose!” His hand was outstretched at you, not that you noticed. “Jesus fuck,” he uttered under his breath and placed his head in his hands. “I was a back-to-back state champion!” Bucky looked between you and John, he wasn’t swearing over the fact he lost and a knowing smile spreading over Bucky’s face.

“You like her.” John looked at him in disgust, his features softening when you laughed and he looked over to you. “You really fucking like her.”

“Shut up,” he lowly grumbled and joined the group still celebrating Bob.

You all gently placed him down. “You did great, buddy! Proud of you,” you gave him a hug before grabbing your hoodie and holding out to the still backwards cap wearing John who raised his brow at it. “Yanno, just incase you want to dry your tears on it.” He grabbed it with his eyes rolling to the back of his head. How you wished they were doing that under different circumstances.

How you wish he was rolling his eyes back like that in pleasure with him under you.

Or you under him.

That fucking backwards cap.

Your thoughts were cut off when your hoodie ended up over your head as he tossed it back at you. You were about to throw it back when Yelena spoke up. “Since we won thanks to Bob, he gets to choose dinner and our activity tonight!” The boys groaned at the thought, he knew he would pick something that would appease all the girls.

“Karaoke and pizza?” He suggested and the three of you shrieked in excitement.

—•—

Everyone was forced to watch you and Yelena singing most of the night from the sofa. John’s lips curved into a smile every so often when you laughed into the mic, the return noise creating a piercing noise in the room before being filled with your laughter, he also smiled when you attempted the higher pitched notes.

He thought about how he could get you to create those same noises under very different circumstances.

When everyone returned from the park his thoughts were of you. He pictured you in your shower as he was in his, imagining your hands running over every curve of your body and wishing it was his hands instead.

He closed his eyes and envisioned you back in the football field.

In that sports bra.

The way you perfectly you fit under him.

The way you were pressed against him.

He was so close the could have just leaned in and kissed you.

He found himself daydreaming about you more than ever, especially after the divorce. He felt a weight had lifted, like he didn’t have to feel guilty for thinking about you while he was still separating from his wife. He was free, but not without his problems.

John worried that you wouldn’t like that about him, that you wouldn’t even like him whatsoever. You both weren’t always on the best terms with things, there were tense moments, but others where you’d throw a casual flirtatious remark at him that would catch you both off guard. But John had hope in his heart, he did each time your eyes caught his.

“Let’s do something else before we all lose our voices, huh?” Bucky suggested, pulling his fingers from his ears after you both finished singing. “How about truth or dare?“

“Never have I ever!” Yelena yelled into the microphone.

“Why don’t we just do both?” You suggested. “We don’t have a bottle though?”

Alexei downed his beer and placed the glass down on its side. “You do now!”

You all sat in a circle, John directly opposite to you with Bob and Alexei either side of you. Bob spun first and it landed on Ava who picked truth. You barely heard what was being said, you were completely entranced by John who was sadly not wearing the baseball cap backwards but a tight fitting navy top that hugged all the right spots with another pair of sweats along with mismatched socks.

Bob was never the best with socks.

Ava then asked Alexei a question, wanting the truth behind a scandal he was rumoured to be involved in back in Moscow. He smirked and replied “I can nether confirm nor deny.”

You sighed “That’s not how- you gotta tell the truth man.”

“That is!” He argued and you all rolled your eyes, eventually accepting that answer and the fact he had no idea how the game worked.

He did know how dares worked and after a few drinks and lots of laughs at many ‘never have I ever’s’ and truths, you dared Alexei to call Val and ask for more publicity. He did do just that thinking it was more of an ideal opportunity and not a dare.

The tears flowed down your cheeks when she picked up the phone, Alexei said his name and she immediately hung up again.

Bucky then spun the bottle and it landed on John.

“Dare!” He said feeling brave.

Bucky smirked, sitting back a little and embracing a matchmaker role.

“Okay, I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You and John instantly looked at each other, the room felt thick with tension for the pair of you but the others childishly giggled at the request.

“What? C’mon Bucky,” he groaned, trying to act tough and cool in front of everyone. “I’ll jump from the roof or something else, anything else.”

“You’d rather jump from the roof than kiss Y/N?” Yelena asked, taking a swig of beer. “Or do anything else than kiss her, Walker?”

“No- no! It’s not that-“ he looked to you again, a look he hadn’t quite seen upon your face before. “It’s not that…” he quietly said like he was speaking to only you.

“Then are you kissing her or forfeiting?” Bucky pressed. “The forfeit is a lap dance,” he laughed with a serious look. ‘Kiss it is,’ John thought, the Dutch courage not quite there yet for something as bold as a lap dance. He uttered out a ‘fine’, short and sharply before crawling over the space that separated both and pressing an even more short and sharp peck to your cheek. “That’s not what I meant…” Bucky said aloud.

“Well you didn’t specify where.” John stated factually and Bucky quietly cursed himself knowing John found a loophole in his plan.

You sat frozen in place, your cheek burning. That single swift motion igniting your world and setting you ablaze.

You didn’t even hear the bottle being spun again, the soft clamouring of glass against the floor and then coming to a stop in front of you. You looked up to John.

“Truth.” You asked.

Unsure if that was the right choice, but also doubting if any of them would be the right one.

“Did you like that? Was that okay?” He asked quick, almost desperately, as if it was a question pressing against his chest that wasn’t allowing him to breathe.

The team groaned, you smiled, whether he tried to soften a truth admission from you purposefully or not, you were thankful it was that question.

“Yes…and yes.” You answered both and he couldn’t even mask the grin appearing on his face.

“That question sucked, Walker.” Everyone vocalised, even Alexei droned the same chide.

You smirked shaking your head, shooting John a quick look, he was toying with the lip of his beer bottle almost nervously. “Okay, my turn to spin.” You quickly moved on.

After a few more turns, Bucky spun the bottle and it landed on Bob.

“Truth, dare or never have I ever, Robert?” He asked him in a far too formal tone.

He pondered, too long to be actually considering a choice, especially since he had this one brewing along with Bucky who had Bob as a wingman on his side, he sent him a thankful nod in advance for him essentially completing the job that wasn’t quite executed as intended earlier in the night. The two boys willingly forcing themselves into your love lives. “Dare.”

“I dare John to kiss Y/N on the lips for me.”

John was taking a sip of his beer at the time and choked on it slightly, spilling drops on his top. “Dude!” He yelped “That’s not even a dare for Bob!”

“I accept that dare,” Bob added, you nudged his side and sent him a glare between your lashes at their reckless attempt at matchmaking.

John groaned “We need to set more rules, what if we all did that every time? It would turn into chaos-” he rambled on. He rambled on so much you sprung forward and shut him up with a quick peck on the lips, much quicker and much lighter than the kiss he gave you earlier. His lips sealed shut at the sudden contact that left his body almost levitating.

“There, ya happy?” You sat down.

The two boys groaned “NO!” Everyone yelled in unison and you and John went wide eyed, not realising this was a group effort to get you both together. Or at least attempt to.

“Not like that! Longer!” Bucky’s hands tensed as he shook them in rage.

“Well,” you smirked “You didn’t specify how long.” Using a line from John’s book that sent a proud wave through this body.

“This is why you two are perfect for each other.” You weren’t sure if Ava intended to be as loud as she did with her half attempt at a mumble. You and John looked at each other, the space between you suddenly feeling a lot smaller. “Next round!”

You stood up, everyone looking up to you at your sudden movement. “I just need to grab some water first,” you said walking away.

Eyes fell to John before they all looked at Bob who knew would be the best bet at talking with you. “I’ll check on her,” he slowly stood and followed you to the kitchen.

You heard his footsteps first “I’ll be back in a minute,” you said taking a large gulp of water, the buzz from the alcohol wore off the second your lips touched his.

“That’s okay, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And say sorry, we didn’t mean to upset you.”

You nodded with a tight lipped smile before the broken words “I can’t,” slipped from your mouth.

“Can’t what?” He asked.

“Kiss him for longer because if I do then I won’t be able to stop.” You pathetically admitted to your dearest friend, more like a little, occasionally troublesome, brother. He came closer to you and embraced you in a hug before pulling back. “Then he goes and wears that fucking baseball cap backwards…” you quietly uttered under your breath thinking Bob would hear you.

But he did.

“Let’s get back, we won’t push you guys any further.” You linked arms with him and returned to the group, only to hear them all arguing.

“That was not a real kiss. A real kiss! Take her breath away dammit!” Alexei boomed.

“Just tell her already, Walker! Or show her…” Yelena’s lips loosened with every drink she took.

“Don’t you think I’m trying to!” He yelled as if he wanted the world to know. “Jesus, do you know how hard it is to get a minute with her? How much I wanna tell her I’ve thought about her every second of every day since I fucking met her?” John was turning red from rage and embarrassment, spilling his guts to his dysfunctional family, everything suddenly crescendoing and then turning into deathly silence when you walked back into the room, hearing it all.

Everyone’s eyes went wide, John stood up.

“How much did you hear?” Ava asked.

“Everything…” you whispered looking at John. “I…I’m gonna head to bed.” You vanished from the room.

John groaned placing his head in his hands “Great going guys…lost my shot before I even had the chance to shoot it.” He stormed off and the team felt guilt resting in their shoulders.

Bob decided to take action.

He left it for thirty minutes, letting some of the tension simmer down before he knocked on a door that opened to a sullen face. “Hey, Walker.”

“Haven’t you guys stirred the pot enough?” He grumpily asked. Bob looked at him with a sad expression, one that no one could deny letting in, he sighed and stepped to the side, a silent invitation in. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to tell you that she likes you too, because she won’t. Y/N gets nervous around you, she has done for the longest time. She stays up all night worrying about you when you’re out on the field. She even painted her nails your favourite colour for your birthday, but you didn’t notice because you were out all day. And why do you think she wore a sports bra today? Because she remembered you saying you thought they were hot- which is, by the way, not cool to sexualise women like that.” He chided and John’s face flushed. “But she does really, really like you.”

He remained silent for a moment, absorbing all the information he was spilling. “How do you know?”

“Because she actually took the time to let me open up, I returned the favour. She’s the greatest friend I’ve ever had, Walker. I just want to see her finally happy.” He admitted. “So make her happy. And if you don’t we will all make you suffer a long drawn out death.” He darkly stated and John believed that they all would. “Get your girl, Walker.”

John lunged towards Bob, engulfing him in a hug and spun him on the spot. “Bobby! Thank you!” He spontaneously pressed a kiss to his forehead and Bob blinked in surprise. He was about to run off when Bob called out to him.

“Wait! Take the cap and wear it backwards!” He looked at Bob full of confusion. “Trust me.”

—•—

You didn’t even bother moving from your bed when you heard a knock on the door, blissfully assuming it was Bob. Your back was to the door when you called out to come in. “Bob, whatever you’re gonna say…” you sighed “Actually I don’t even know what you can say. I don’t even know what to say! How can I tell John that every single word he said is also how I feel?” You continued to ramble from your spot as you felt the bed dip as he sat, his frame cashing a slight shadow in the dim light. “Shit, how did I let it do this far without telling him?”

“I let it go just as far.”

Your body froze. The air around you suddenly crushing you against the bed. You knew that voice and you knew it wasn’t Bob. Your body slowly started to turn, almost against its will to face the super solider. You lowly gasped seeing him sporting his cap backwards again. Then mentally cursing yourself. “God, why are you wearing the cap like that?” You sat up a little, your back now against the headboard.

John shrugged, hunched forward slightly “Bob suggested it? I don’t know why-“ he looked over his shoulder to you, your eyes wide. “Oh-oh!” He lowly chuckled as he clicked on. “You like a little backwards cap action…”

“Shut up,” you mumbled and hit him with a pillow. He held it against his chest, how you wished you were that pillow. “So what else did Bob tell you?”

“Enough to know.” He admitted. “Enough to know that my own feelings towards you are matched.” He leaned back, your faces parallel. “I really am sorry, I should have said something sooner. Instead I just drool over you and I’m grounded from seeing you in a sports bra.” You bit down on your lip, smiling at his words. His eyes fell to the space between you and him, the two of you wishing there wasn’t one. “Truth or dare.” His voice was quiet, his eyes looked up into yours.

“Suppose since I did truth last time I’ll have to pick dare…” you spoke as lowly as he did, giddy smiles plastered over both your faces.

John mock thought, bringing his fingertips to his lips and tapping them against his skin. “Hmm…I dare you to…” moved closer, breath fanning over your face. “To kiss me for as long as you want.”

“Is forever acceptable…?” You asked.

John smirked. “It is.” Your lips met somewhere in the middle. Instantaneously melting into each other, months of waiting for this moment finally arrived for the both of you, sparks rushing through the two of you at the sensation. John wrapped an arm around you and pulled you onto his lap, you let out a squeak at the sudden move and smiled against his skin as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands wrapped around his broad shoulders as his fingertips dug into your hips causing you to involuntary grind against his. He moaned into the kiss at the move, every dream he had of you now suddenly coming true. You did it again with pure intent and got an even louder reaction. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me off already.” He moaned against your lips as his hands started to roam under your top.

“So dramatic,” you mumbled with a teasing smile and pulled back a little, his eyes had darkened and his lips were a soft pink and slightly swollen from kissing.

John smirked, his hands coming to rest on your lower back. “Well, I have to get you back for earlier, because two can play at that game…” he gently sat you back a little and took his top off. Your lips parted and he had a smug grin on his face. “Yanno, I can’t count the many, many times you stared at me walking around shirtless in this building...even though I might have done it just to get your attention.” You rolled your eyes, letting your fingers dance across his bare chest before coming up and tracing over his lips. “Wanna show you how much I’ve thought about you, how much I care, Y/N.” He pecked your fingertips, using his to tug at the ends of your top as a silent plea to remove it, you pulled back just a little and quickly removed it, John practically howling at the sight of your bare chest. “Fuck, so fucking beautiful,” he cupped your breasts with his rough large hands, “Such perfect tits,” his lips against yours yet again.

“John…” you moaned into his mouth as he toyed with your nipples between your fingertips and then replacing those with open mouthed kisses, tracing his tongue over your hardened nipples. You pressed your hips against his again, the prominent bulge making itself known underneath you and against your clothed core. “Please show me. I’ve waited for so long, I can’t any longer.”

John moaned against your chest “Of course, baby. But I hope you know that the many next times it’s gonna be so much longer. Wanna savour all of you, always.” You stood from his lap and removed your pyjama bottoms in one swift move and his jaw dropped at the sight. “Holy shit. Did I win the jackpot?” He giddily said and your head dropped bashfully as you swatted away his comments.

John stood up too and removed his sweats you blinked and let out a breathless ‘wow’ under your breath at the sheer size of his cock, standing to attention just for you. He was about to take his cap off when you held out your hand. “No, no, no,” you wrapped your arms around him “Keep it on.” You both childishly and bashfully giggled at the request, feeling like a pair of teenagers. He picked you up, your legs wrapped around your waist as he felt your hot core against the lower half of his stomach, kissing you until he reached the end of the bed. You remained on his lap, his cock already twitching against your clit, both moaning at the sensation.

“I should get a-“ he was about to move when you stopped him.

“It’s okay, John, I’m on birth control.” He almost came at the thought of getting to cum in you. His swears dancing over your skin as he lifted you ever so slightly and sunk you down on his cock. The two of you let out a shuddering breath at the sensation of his cock stretching you out, John embracing your tight pussy around him. “God!” You groaned as you started bouncing, John’s arms keeping you as close as he could to him as you fucked him. You gripped onto his cap so tight your knuckles started cramping but the ache was being replaced by pleasure.

“Oh, shit, fuck, so good, so, so fucking good, baby!” John moaned against your collarbone, his teeth sinking into your skin and causing you to yelp in delight. “Just like that, yes!” His head fell back and you caught his lips with yours again. He could feel you gripping onto him tighter as you reached your climax “Please, god, cum on my cock, I need you to cum on my cock.” He begged which sent you over the edge, your body practically convulsing as you came with John shortly after. He sunk his fingers into your hips as if to keep you in place as he filled you up.

The two of you remained in the same spot, desperately catching your breaths. You smiled as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, placing kisses along his racing pulse line. “Well,” you blissfully sighed “Your cap is right because this woman wants you.” He let out a tired laugh and hugged you tightly.

“I’m all yours and only yours.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. “Let’s get cleaned up, get you some sleep.” He pecked your cheek and slowly removed you from around him with a groan.

You lazily kissed each other while cleaning up, John gave you his navy top to sleep in, almost cumming again at how it perfectly stretched tightly over your chest. You fell back into bed with John by your side. “So…the feeling is mutual then?” You joked and he softly chuckled. He took off his cap and placed it on your bed-frame like it was a trophy case as you fell into a peaceful sleep with your limbs intertwined.

—•—

“You want pancakes? I’ll make you pancakes,” John sleepily kissed you the next morning in the kitchen. “I’ll make you anything you want.” The two of you were the only ones up, you were still wearing his top with your pyjama bottoms leaving him shirtless with his sweats on.

He let you sport his cap, claiming you looked better in it than he did. Backwards of course.

“Sure! Pancakes sound great.” You grabbed him what he might need, he pulled you back from behind into his arms, leaving a trail of kisses up your neck. “J-John!” You giggled “C’mon, let’s make these before they all wake up.” He kept kissing you and you lost your footing, causing you both to land on the floor, almost recreating what happened at football.

You kissed him before sitting up, your thighs either side of his stomach. “Good morning indeed…” he said in a sultry tone while letting his hands roam over your sides.

You barely heard the team walk in you were so enamoured with him.

“Walker, that hat! Jeez, you’re obsessed with that thing.” Bucky walked in shaking his head, not quite seeing that it was you wearing it.

You peered your head up and they all stopped raising a questionable brow. “Morning!” You squeaked and got off John who quickly stood up.

“I’m making pancakes. We weren’t doing anything else.” He said as if he was trying to convince those who couldn’t be convinced from the scene they walked into.

Bob smirked, giving himself a pat on the back for his wingman duties. “Nice cap, Y/N.”

[tikkafreespirit]

The Broken Bed Frame

Pairing: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Prompt: Y/N and Bucky are secretly seeing each other and after a steamy night, Bucky tells the Thunderbolts he needs a new bed. They have a lot of questions.

----

The hum of the air conditioning in Avengers Tower was the only sound as Y/N lay tangled in sweat-slick sheets, one arm draped lazily across Bucky’s chest. His skin was warm beneath her palm, rising and falling with steady breaths, and his vibranium arm was still looped protectively around her waist, fingertips brushing the curve of her hip.

The room smelled like sex and victory. Mostly sex.

A lopsided grin tugged at Y/N’s lips as she stared at the crack in the ceiling. “So,” she murmured. “Wanna explain to everyone else why you’re going to be searching for a new bed frame tomorrow?” 

Bucky chuckled under his breath, deep and smug. “I’ll just say I rolled over too hard.”

“With me on top of you?”

“With enthusiasm.”

The broken bedframe groaned again as Y/N shifted, prompting another shared laugh before she leaned up to kiss him. The kiss was slow, unhurried, and a lazy reward for a long day of pretending they weren’t screwing each other stupid behind everyone’s backs.

----

The next morning the Thunderbolts were gathered in the common room of Avengers Tower, everyone in various stages of coffee-dependency. Yelena was sprawled on one couch, flipping through a magazine. Ava nursed her espresso slowly. Alexei was in a squat competition with himself. And John Walker was recapping his latest run like anyone cared.

Bucky strolled in late, hair damp from a shower, black Henley snug against his chest. He looked too pleased with himself, which immediately set off silent alarm bells for Y/N, who sat on the armrest near Ava, sipping from her mug.

“Morning,” he greeted, grabbing a mug.

“Someone’s cheerful,” Yelena noted, raising a brow.

“I’d be cheerful too if I slept for ten hours straight,” Ava added, blowing on her coffee.

Bucky shrugged casually. “Would’ve been longer if the bed hadn’t given out in the middle of the night.”

Y/N choked on her coffee.

A beat of silence followed.

“The what did what?” John asked, confused.

Bucky sipped, totally unfazed. “Broke right in half.”

Yelena sat up straight, eyes gleaming. “Wait—you broke a bed?”

“What were you doing?” Ava asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I thought you slept alone?” John frowned.

“Oh my god,” Yelena whispered, slowly turning to Y/N, whose face had gone suspiciously blank. “You okay? Did you—were you there?”

Y/N cleared her throat, forcing a neutral tone. “I’m sorry, I—you broke your bed?”

Bucky didn’t even blink. “Yeah. Thing just couldn’t handle the… pressure.”

Alexei barked a laugh. “You did the sex too hard, didn’t you?”

“Who was in the bed?” Ava asked, now entirely invested.

“Please tell me it was you,” Yelena said to Y/N with a wicked grin. “That’s the only explanation that would make this amazing.”

John frowned. “Wait, what is happening?”

Y/N blinked. “I mean—what makes you think I was—?”

“She was,” Bucky interrupted, with the casual grace of someone announcing the weather.

Everyone’s heads whipped toward them.

“Wait, what?” John choked. “You two are—”

“Oh finally,” Ava muttered.

“Called it,” Yelena smirked, pulling a crumpled twenty from her back pocket and tossing it at Ava. “Told you they were sneaking around.”

“I thought they were just flirting weird,” John said, looking mildly horrified.

Y/N rubbed her face, groaning into her palm. “We were very stealthy.”

“You’re terrible at being stealthy,” Yelena said. “You disappeared during the last mission debrief and came back looking like you were glowing.” 

Alexei raised his mug. “To broken beds and better orgasms.”

“Cheers,” Bucky said smugly, raising his coffee.

Y/N just sighed and gave in, nudging Bucky with her foot. “You’re lucky I like you, Barnes.”

He leaned back, totally unbothered, and grinned. “You liked me a lot last night.”

Yelena howled with laughter. Ava groaned. John looked like he needed brain bleach. And Alexei muttered something about “young people these days” as he dropped into a squat.

---

The teasing didn’t stop for the rest of the day.

Every room Y/N walked into, someone had something to say.

“You walking okay?” Ava asked sweetly as they passed in the hallway. “Need me to ice your knees?”

“Tell Bucky to reinforce the furniture next time,” Yelena said over lunch. “Or maybe don’t do gymnastics in the bedroom. Just a thought.”

Even Alexei, unbothered and casually nosy, had offered them both protein bars “for recovery.”

By the time dinner rolled around, Y/N had all but sworn to fake a mission request just to escape the tower for 48 hours.

She found herself in the kitchen late that night, post-shower, hair damp and knotted into a bun, wearing an oversized hoodie—his hoodie—and absolutely not hiding from anyone. Definitely not.

She was spooning Nutella straight from the jar when Bucky strolled in, shirtless, in gray sweatpants. The smug look hadn’t left his face since the Great Bedframe Confession of earlier.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just blown up their secret and set it on fire.

“You,” she pointed the spoon at him, “have zero impulse control.”

His smirk deepened. “Did you want me to lie?”

“I wanted you to not volunteer the fact that we broke a bed having sex. There’s nuance, Barnes.”

He stepped closer, one hand bracing beside her on the counter. “You think they weren’t going to figure it out eventually? They had bets going. Yelena kept making heart-eyes every time we so much as breathed near each other.”

“She also asked me if you bark during sex,” Y/N deadpanned.

Bucky blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t know, she said you give off ‘feral Golden Retriever’ energy.”

His lips twitched, struggling not to laugh. “I mean, I am loyal…”

She smacked his chest with the spoon.

He caught her wrist mid-swing, tugging her forward until she was pressed against him, sticky chocolate forgotten. His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “You didn’t seem too worried about being quiet last night.”

Her breath hitched. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“You love me,” he said with that damn cocky grin.

“Shut up.”

“Say it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, then leaned in to murmur, “Fine. I love you, but I swear to God, Bucky, if you make anymore comments about furniture during a team meeting—”

“I’ll behave,” he promised, totally unconvincing.

----

Everyone was gathered again, breakfast spread across the table. Yelena was peeling an orange with a knife like a threat. John was mid-rant about proper chain-of-command. Ava was sipping her coffee with the detached energy of a woman who had emotionally clocked out months ago.

Y/N strolled in with Bucky trailing behind her.

Yelena’s eyes flicked to them, quickly noticing the smug smile on both their faces. 

She raised a brow. “So, did you break another bed last night or just the kitchen table this time?”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alexei spit out his orange juice from across the room.

John stood up. “I’m going back to my room. This is so inappropriate—”

“Someone’s jealous,” Bucky muttered.

“Of what?” John barked. “Your lack of boundaries?”

Ava sipped her coffee. “No, he's definitely jealous of the sex.”

Yelena held up a second crumpled twenty. “New bet: who’s next to hook up in this tower?”

Alexei grinned. “I volunteer.”

Y/N just laughed, reached over, and stole a piece of toast from Bucky’s plate. He didn’t stop her—he was too busy watching her with that look. The one that said mine without ever having to say a word.

Broken beds be damned.

[tikkafreespirit]

Always Been You

pairing: brothersbestfriend!bucky x reader

summary: you’re fresh out of a break up, and your brother is determined not to let you dwell on your shitty ex. he thinks your annual summer trip with your shared group of friends should do the trick. you think a summer spent staring at his hot best friend will at least lift your spirits a little.

set the scene: reader and her brother live together, lakehouse is owned by readers parents and this does not take place in the mcu, reader is mid-20’s and bucky, steve, sam, natasha, and readers brother are all a couple years older.

warnings: some fluff, reader gets cheated on by john walker, very anti john walker due to said cheating, LOTS of flirting (its bucky we’re talking about), self doubt, weed and alcohol mentions/consumption, SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), bucky calls reader a slut (affectionately), unprotected sex, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

other characters: readers brother (oc), yelena belova, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, sam wilson, wanda maximoff, bob reynolds, ex bf john walker (mentioned)

wc: 7.9k

MINORS DNI (18+)

—————————————————————————

knock knock

the third time in the past five minutes. andrew, your loving yet annoyingly persistent older brother, seemed to be determined to get you out of your bed. he succeeded briefly that morning when he had made your favorite breakfast and insisted you eat with him, though after putting your plate in the sink you were quickly scurrying to your room and shutting the door before he could stop you.

a sigh left your mouth as you pulled your comforter over your head. maybe if you pretended you were asleep, he would go away.

knock knock

“i know you aren’t sleeping y/n,” your brother’s muffled voice came through your door.

you rolled your eyes as you pulled the blanket down enough to yell, “yes i am!”

the handle jiggled, and you could almost hear the annoyed look on his face, “seriously? open the door or i’m picking the lock!”

you ripped your covers off before stomping to the door and whipping it open, meeting your brothers irritated features with a hard glare, “that’s an invasion of privacy, asshole.”

andrew rolled his eyes as he looked past you and into your room, “jesus y/n,” he muttered as he pushed past you and walked over to your curtains, sliding them open and bathing the room in sunlight.

your eyes squinted against the harsh light, blinking a few times before remembering you were supposed to be upset, “hey! i didn’t say you could come in!”

“yeah well i’m tired of my little sister living like a fuckin’ vampire,” his eyes drifted around your room, his face softening as he took in the sight that was now painfully visible to him.

tissues littered the floor around your bed, sheets and blankets that were usually tidy a crumpled mess on your mattress. the small trashcan in your room was overflowing with various pictures and gifts you could no longer stand the sight of. a small pile of stuffed animals had clearly taken the brunt of your emotions, a pair of scissors lying next to their mutilated fuzzy bodies.

when your brothers pitying gaze landed on you it was your natural instinct to close yourself off, arms crossing over your chest as you muttered a weak, “i’m fine.”

andrew just sighed as he walked over to you, hands resting on your shoulders cautiously, “not talking to anyone about it isn’t gonna help you.”

“what’s there to say?” you spat, your eyes staying fixed on your feet, “i thought my boyfriend loved me, he cheated, clearly i was wrong. that’s all there is to it.” your voice broke as you finished your sentence, emotions betraying your words as your eyes welled with tears.

you really did think john loved you. if not the traditional, head over heels type of in love, you at least believed he loved you in the way he could. he was irritable often times, but he always apologized. he didn’t love public displays of affection, but he showed his hunger for you in private. he didn’t really get along with your friends, but he was never outright cold to them.

well, almost all of them.

the one person who couldn’t seem to even pretend to like john was bucky barnes. your brother’s tall, charming, insanely hot best friend. it baffled you the first time you had brought john around to meet your friends, bucky’s usually kind demeanor hardening into a suspicious stare as he stiffly shook johns hand. bucky’s distaste for john appeared to be a mutual feeling. you watched their biceps flex as they seemed to have a mini arm wrestling match, brow furrowing in confusion before you pulled john away to introduce him to the rest of the group.

every subsequent group event you brought john to was like that. bucky would greet you with his usual hug and charming smile, before fixing john with the same stare and an utterance of his last name. wanda had convinced herself that bucky acted that way because he wanted you, but that didn’t really feel plausible to you. it’s not like john was your first partner, and bucky had been perfectly pleasant to everyone else you had dated.

in hindsight, you think bucky knew in his gut that john would ultimately be bad news.

andrew frowned at your words, pulling you into a tight hug, “that’s not all there is to it, y/n. he really hurt you. you’ve barely been eating, you haven’t talked to your friends in 4 weeks, i had to send mom and dad a picture of you at breakfast this morning to prove you’re alive.” he rubbed your back gently as he spoke, your body relaxing into his despite yourself.

tears flowed from your eyes freely, your arms still folded into yourself as your head rested on his chest, “i just… i wish he just broke up with me instead-“ your voice broke on a sob, chest heaving, “instead of fucking someone else.”

your body shook as you cried, the tightness in your chest a crippling weight dragging you into despair. your brother continued to hug you, rubbing your back gently as he comforted you. he walked you to the small couch in your room slowly, sitting down and keeping his arm around your shoulder.

your elbows rested on your knees as you covered your face with your hands, attempting to wipe away your tears even as more followed.

“i’ll be right back, okay?” andrew spoke softly before getting up. you remained in your spot, your brother returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and a box of tissues. you took them gratefully, sipping the water before dabbing at your eyes and nose. you sniffled, breath hiccuping as you calmed yourself down, andrew sitting with you and quietly observing the entire time.

once you were able to even your breathing you sighed as you ran a hand through your hair, “okay, maybe i lied about being fine earlier.”

andrew huffed a laugh through his nose, “no shit.”

you shot him a glare before you continued, “i just… i guess talking about it makes it feel real. final. and i’d be lying if i didn’t say i feel embarrassed about it all too.”

“you have absolutely no reason to feel embarrassed,” andrew said, his voice firm, “walker is the one who should feel that way.”

“i know, i know,” you sighed, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater, “i just can’t help but feel like everyone is gonna look at me differently now. i mean i hung out with you guys way less when i was dating john, what if they think i’m just crawling back to our friend group because i got cheated on?”

andrew called your name, making you look at him as he spoke, “you know damn well no one is going to look at you differently. if anything they’ll be thrilled to be there for you. no one is gonna be upset, they just miss you.”

“even though i cancelled on our summer trip?” you pouted.

“it’s not too late to un-cancel, you know,” your brother’s face twisted into a mischievous smile.

“please be serious, i’m not just gonna tag along last minute. you guys leave in 2 days.” you rolled your eyes as you rested your head on the back of the couch.

“you’re not ‘just tagging along’ it’s your house too, idiot. and don’t act like the group chat wouldn’t explode.” your brother stood, his voice taking on a tone of finality that filled you with dread, “here’s what’s gonna happen. one, you’re taking a shower- seriously you stink. two, you’re texting the group chat and telling them you’re going. three, pack your damn bag or i’ll do it for you and i will make sure none of your socks match.”

you pouted at your brother from your spot on the couch, your disgruntled expression the only real fight you had left in you. realistically, you knew he was right. your friends had always received you exactly as you were, and you knew this time would be no different. crying into yelenas lap while wanda played with your hair honestly sounded like the exact sort of therapy you needed.

“fine. but i’m doing it because i want to, not because you told me to,” you grumbled as you stood and made your way to the bathroom attached to your room. andrew just rolled his eyes playfully before going back downstairs.

once you had indulged yourself in a much needed hot shower, you sent the text to your friends. a small smile made it’s way onto your face when you instantly received their replies:

sam 🦅: FUCK YEAH!!!

wanda 🥀: please say you’re rooming with me 🥹🥹

natasha 🕷️: thank GOD i thought we were gonna have to handle your brother by ourselves

andrew 🧸: i resent that, nat.

bucky 💪🏻: oh good my favorite y/l/n sibling is spending the summer with us!

andrew 🧸: i resent that too.

steve and bob responded with cute gifs while yelena began arguing with wanda over who got to room with you, your chest feeling significantly lighter as you witnessed your friends antics. your eyes kept flicking back to bucky’s text, heart fluttering slightly at the thought of you actually being his favorite between you and your brother. you knew it wasn’t true, andrew and bucky had been friends since you could remember. but bucky often liked to say sweet things that made you feel special, and maybe a whole summer of that was exactly what you needed. him being shirtless a majority of the the time would be a very welcomed bonus too.

typing out a couple quick replies, you put your phone on do not disturb and tossed it on the bed before you set your sights on your clothes. the thought of doing anything else felt nearly overwhelming, but as your brain flickered back to your friends’ excited reactions, you decided that no matter what this was gonna be a good summer.

john fucking walker be damned.

—————————————————————————

the drive to your family lakehouse was filled with nerves, leg shaking, constantly checking the gps, palms sweating anxiety. andrew had to nearly force you into the car that morning, only getting you in when he called natasha to yell at you. the memory made you pout, grumbling just loud enough for him to hear, “i can’t believe you snitched on me to nat.”

“well if you weren’t being a pain in the ass i wouldn’t have had to.” he swiftly retorted.

you rolled your eyes, “is that any way to talk to your heartbroken sister?”

“don’t pull that card on me when you know i’m right.” your brow furrowed deeper at your brothers ability to evade your guilt trip, a practiced art he had long since perfected.

you two weren’t the first to arrive that afternoon, a familiar gray truck coming into your view as the car pulled into the driveway. you felt a small flutter in your tummy when the owner of the truck stepped onto the front porch, charming smile spread wide across his pretty face, muscled arm raised in an enthusiastic wave. you couldn’t help the giddy grin that worked it’s way onto your lips.

you made quick work of your seatbelt and hopped out of the car, moving to walk to the trunk for your bags. before you could haul your bags out of the back, bucky was at your side batting your hands away and lifting them out of the car with ease. you laughed a bit, pulling him into a hug after he set your bags down, “i could have gotten those myself, buck.”

“when have i ever let you do the heavy lifting, sugar?” warmth crept up your neck at the affectionate term, a nickname bucky had given you in middle school. while at first it was teasing, bucky deeming you ‘too sweet for your own good’, overtime it had morphed into an endearing thing, his voice filled with warmth whenever he addressed you as such.

from behind you andrew cleared his throat, hands on his hips as he raised an eyebrow at bucky, “what so i don’t get a hot beefcake to grab my heavy bags?”

bucky made no move to release you, snorting into your hair as he said, “i’ll get sam for you.”

“good, he’s more my type anyway,” andrew rolled his eyes as he grabbed his own bags, struggling with them a bit before closing the trunk. the three of you made your way to the house, steve and sam now standing on the porch with grins on their faces.

they both greeted you with hugs, sam nearly squeezing the life out of you before placing you back down on the wooden boards. “glad you were able to make it, y/n.” sam grinned, ruffling your hair.

you groaned as you slapped his hand away, “get your grubby hands away from my hair.”

sam laughed, holding the door open for the group as you made your way inside, “my hands are clean, thank you very much.”

a sigh left your lips as you stepped inside the house, the familiar sights and smells settling comfortably in your senses. though getting here had been a mental struggle, the second you stepped foot outside of the car you knew this had been the right call.

as kids, this trip had been a tradition that started with you, your brother, your parents, bucky and wanda. every summer was spent barefoot in the grass, catching bugs and swimming until your fingers and toes were pruned. when you and your brother were old enough to drive your group of friends, your parents decided to retire themselves from the trip, claiming to be too old to deal with the antics of your friend group.

your heart clenched painfully at the memory of the last trip you took here. john had put up a fight when you told him you planned to stick to your summer trip, saying you were prioritizing your friends over your relationship. you had begged him to come, to which he reluctantly agreed after seeing the tears in your eyes. you two ended up leaving after a week, john saying he had fallen ill, though when you got back home he was dropping you off and claiming he was going to be at the gym for a few hours.

deep in thought, you didn’t notice the presence beside you until bucky cleared his throat and nudged you gently, snapping you out of your spiral as you blinked at him, “whats going on in that pretty head of yours, sugar?”

a sheepish smile made its way onto your face, “just um… thinking about last summer. i really wish i didn’t leave.”

bucky frowned slightly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. he pressed a kiss into your hair as he mumbled, “we all know that wasn’t your choice.”

your shoulders slumped as you relaxed into his body, head resting on his shoulder, “i shouldn’t have gone with him like a loyal idiot. i should have just stayed-”

bucky’s grip on you tightened as he gave you a grounding squeeze, other arm moving to wrap around you and pull you into him fully, cutting you off. “i’ve been put under firm instructions to not let you get down on yourself or dwell on the past. and i take my job very seriously, so i’ll be hearing none of that.”

a pout formed on your lips as you tilted your head up, chin resting on bucky’s muscled chest, “andrew put you up to this, didn’t he.”

the charming grin that spread on bucky’s face as he looked down at you would have made you swoon if you weren’t focused on being annoyed at your brother, “maybe, maybe not. i’ll never tell.” your jaw opened in shock, bucky laughing at your expression before patting your hip and releasing you to grab your bags. “c’mon princess, you got the single room since yelena and wanda tried to start world war 3.”

you laughed a bit as you scooped up the one small bag bucky allowed you to carry, “i’m not sure making them room together was the solution but i won’t complain.”

once you and bucky had gotten your things settled in your room he left you to unpack, giving you another kiss on the head as he did. your heart fluttered annoyingly, the stupid crush you harbored on bucky as a kid seeming to rear it’s ugly head once more.

obviously he was attractive, you would have to be blind not to see that. but it was never about his looks for you. bucky had always taken care of you, was always one of your fiercest protectors alongside your brother. it didn’t matter what the cost was to him, didn’t matter if he got suspended for punching a kid who made you cry, didn’t matter if he had to cancel a date to come comfort you when andrew couldn’t, bucky had always made it clear you were a priority for him.

really, it was his fault you ended up having feelings for him. he didn’t have to be so good, so sweet, and beautiful, and kind. he didn’t have to treat you so gently, look at you with such adoring eyes, touch you with so much care and tenderness it made you want to kiss the life out of him and then some.

you had worked hard to stop feeling the way you did, and for a time it really seemed like you had moved past your crush. but as you sat there, stewing in your thoughts, you realized it had just been laying dormant, waiting to emerge at the right time and turn you back into the nervous mess you were around him in middle and early high school.

a sigh left your lips as you sat on the bed, glad to have your thoughts occupied by something other than your breakup. maybe crushing on bucky again would help you. it’s not like anything would come of it, and if you were being honest with yourself the butterflies he gave you were a welcome feeling, bringing you a sense of childlike giddiness you hadn’t felt in a long time, not even when you were beginning to date john, or any of your other partners for that matter. no one could make you feel the way bucky did, so why not lean into it?

what’s the worst that could happen?

—————————————————————————

“you absolutely cannot tell me he hasn’t been making fuck-me eyes at you the entire summer,” wanda said from her spot beside you, lazily stretching on the blanket. you were both lying on your stomachs, tanning while steve, yelena, sam and bucky were messing around in the lake. meanwhile your brother and bob were unsuccessfully attempting to paddle board while natasha laughed and yelled instructions from her steady place on her own board.

an exasperated sigh left your mouth as you pulled your sunglasses off to shoot her a glare, “i absolutely can and will. bucky has always been sweet to me, you know that.”

“yeah because the man is so head over heels for you i’m surprised he hasn’t gotten down on one knee yet.” wanda laughed, flicking sand at you when your glare sharpened. “oh relax, is the thought of bucky thinking of you that way really the worst thing in the world?”

your expression fell slightly as you let out another sigh, “i don’t want to get my hopes up. i was already heartbroken once this year, don’t really want to risk it happening again so soon.”

wandas teasing smile softened into something more gentle, her hand reaching for yours and intertwining your fingers with a squeeze, “i’m sorry. i just mean to say… it’s clear that bucky cares about you more than anyone else. in whatever way that may be, it’s sweet.”

you returned her gentle squeeze, a shy smile forming on your face when your eyes drifted to where bucky was, all boyish smiles and loud laughs as he wrestled with sam in the water. “it is sweet. i’ll give you that.”

“thank you, i love it when you tell me i’m right,” wanda smiled.

you laughed as you sat up, adjusting your bikini top to keep your breasts from spilling over. your eyes flicked back to bucky, surprised to see his gaze now fixed on you. he said something to sam, who shared a knowing look with steve and yelena, before he began making his way over to you and wanda.

it was hard not to stare as he approached, water dripping off of his chest and down his chiseled torso in a way that felt sinful. his wet hair was pushed back, a few wavy pieces falling on his forehead. he grabbed a towel from the pile on the blanket, drying himself off.

the teasing smile returned to wandas face as she spoke, “tired of splashing around, buck?”

a short laugh was huffed from bucky’s nose as he spread the towel and sat down next to you, “just wanted to make sure y/n wasn’t getting tired of you.”

you rolled your eyes playfully as you shoved bucky’s shoulder, “who’s to say i’m not tired of you?”

bucky pouted at you, hand going over his chest in mock offense, “don’t say that sugar, you’re breaking my heart.”

warmth crept up your neck, a small laugh leaving your lips as you shook your head playfully. you grabbed your phone, checking the time before standing and brushing yourself off, “it’s almost lunch, i’m gonna go make some sandwiches.”

bucky stood before you could finish your sentence, “i’ll come help,” he smiled.

you returned his smile then looked to wanda, who shook her head, “think i’ll join nat in laughing at andrew and bob.” she said as she stood, making her way down to the water. you and bucky headed into the house, arms brushing slightly as you walked side by side. your skin prickled with goosebumps where it met his, heart pounding when you realized you would be alone with bucky while you were both half naked.

not the worst thing to happen to you.

—————————————————————————

sandwich ingredients were strewn across the counter as you and bucky worked, keeping up a light conversation as you did. bucky was complaining about steve’s snoring, groaning as he said, “seriously, i had half a mind to grab a pillow and go curl up on someones floor.”

you laughed, grabbing plates from the cabinet, blurting before you could think about the implications, “you’re more than welcome to just crawl into bed with me.”

bucky didn’t miss a beat, even as you outwardly cringed at your words, a small smirk forming on his face, “you’d let me do that sugar?”

your words stuttered as the heat in your cheeks flamed, “i-i meant like- well i wouldn’t just want you to sleep on the floor.” you turned from where you were grabbing the plates, gasping when you realized bucky had come to stand behind you.

the smirk on his face didn’t leave as he took the plates from you, fingers brushing yours lightly as he did, and set them on the counter next to you, “you’re just too sweet for your own good, aren’t you sugar?” his voice was low and teasing, holding something molten that settled in the pit of your stomach.

you swallowed harshly as you stared back at him dumbly, his close proximity to you making words feel impossible. your back pressed into the counter slightly, voice light, “maybe just for you.”

bucky's tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip before he pulled it between his teeth. he took a step closer, crowding your space more as he leaned in slightly, "yeah? you telling me you're my sweet girl?"

even as your breath stuttered, you opened your mouth to respond, but the moment was interrupted by the sound of the screen door slamming open. you and bucky nearly jumped back from each other, looking to where your brother was storming into the kitchen with natasha laughing behind him.

"you're a horrible teacher! i would have died if it weren't for steve!" andrew yelled at natasha, going to the fridge and grabbing a drink.

"he's being dramatic, he was fine," natasha said as she came to stand at your side, leaning against the counter and fixing your brother with an amused grin.

andrew glared back at her, "i'm never taking paddle boarding lessons from you again."

"good, you didn't even pay me for the first lesson." natasha quipped, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite.

you laughed as you handed natasha a plate and a napkin, moving to plate the rest of the sandwiches as well, "relax drew, the lake isn't even that deep."

"y/n i almost di-"

you cut him off by shoving plates in his hands and spinning him around, ushering him towards the door, "enough, drama queen. bring those out to the others, we'll be right behind you."

andrew continued to grumble to himself as he left. you laughed as you turned back to natasha, "what did you do to him?"

"i might have accidentally but sort of on purpose flipped his board. i'm sure he'll tell you all about it later. c'mon, i'll help you guys with this stuff," she grabbed a couple plates and a bag of chips before heading out the door, leaving you alone with bucky once again.

he hadn't spoken a word since you two were interrupted, gaze more intense than it had ever been before as you looked at him. "guess we should head out?"

bucky stared at you for a beat longer before humming and grabbing the remaining items, "i got it sugar, right behind you."

you smiled before turning and walking out the door, unaware of the way bucky's gaze drifted down your body as you left.

—————————————————————————

the lake looked like glass, perfectly reflecting the moon and stars in the clear night sky above you. you were sat on the edge of the dock, legs swinging absentmindedly as you relaxed in the peace and quiet. your friends were inside the house, drinking and dancing the night away as you often did on these trips.

the dock was your favorite place to come when you just needed a moment for air, when breathing felt too hard and your thoughts threatened to turn into something ugly. it started to feel that way a little over an hour ago, prompting you to step outside while claiming you needed to smoke a joint. now the pack of pre rolls and lighter laid next to you untouched, you had really just taken them for show.

"thought you might be out here."

you startled slightly at the voice from behind you, relaxing instantly when you saw bucky strolling down the dock towards you. he sat next to you, close but not close enough to touch. you tried to fight the disappointment bubbling in your chest. "you disappeared on us sugar." bucky teased lightly, leaning into you to nudge his shoulder against yours gently.

you gave him a half smile, your fingers fiddling with the hair tie around your wrist, "my brain was... feeling a bit overwhelmed. just needed to think."

a thoughtful look came onto bucky's face as he studied you, "penny for your thoughts?"

you took in a breath as you began to speak, "i'm really happy i came here. that i didn't let what happened completely ruin my summer. and being around you guys again has been so healing for me," you gave bucky a small smile which he returned, sliding his hand into yours and giving you a reassuring squeeze.

ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you continued, "there's a weird part of me that just feels like i don't deserve to be so happy again so quickly. like i should still be miserable and mourning this big loss. but i just... don't feel bad about it. and that kind of makes me feel worse, you know?" you finished your rambling with a sigh, leaning your head on bucky's shoulder and wrapping your other hand around his bicep.

you were surprised when you heard bucky huff a short laugh before shaking his head and leaning it against yours, "you really are too sweet for your own good, y/n."

brow furrowing slightly, you mumbled, "what do you mean?"

"you have absolutely nothing you should be feeling bad for, sugar," bucky said, thumb now rubbing along your knuckles gently, "especially not regarding that piece of shit walker." he spat, the venom in his voice palpable when he said john's name.

there was quiet for a moment before you spoke again, "you really didn't like him, did you?"

"was it that obvious?" bucky said, the sarcasm in his voice earning a chuckle from you.

your voice came slightly quieter, as if you hoped he wouldn't hear you, "wanda had a theory about that."

bucky hummed thoughtfully, squeezing your hand again, "what was her theory?"

anxiety filled you as you shifted slightly, lifting your head from his shoulder and pulling your hand from his. bucky watched intently as you adjusted the straps of your sundress, fidgeting with anything you could get your hands on as if you could distract yourself from your own words, "she thinks you didn't like him because you want me."

bucky was quiet for a moment which you spent wishing you could swallow your words back down your throat. but when he spoke again his voice was deeper, slower, more careful. "and what do you think, sugar?"

your gaze stayed fixed on the reflection of the moon on the lake, not daring to meet bucky's eyes which seemed set on burning a hole in the side of your head. "i told her you've been nice to my partners before."

"you know that's not what i'm asking, y/n." bucky said. you finally forced yourself to meet his eyes, breathing hitching when those baby blues came into your vision. he leant in ever so slightly, breath ghosting across your cheeks, "do you think i want you, sugar?"

steeling your nerves, your response was short but certain, "i do now."

there was no denying the tension between you two any longer, the look in bucky's eyes an undeniable show of his desire for you. before you could think about it too much you were reaching for his face, cupping his cheeks and crashing your lips against his in an explosion of raw passion. bucky moved swiftly, banding his arm around your back to pull you impossibly close as he kissed you deeply.

your lips felt like they belonged against bucky’s, sparks shooting throughout your body as he kissed you fervently, as if he needed your kiss to breathe. your arms wrapped around his neck, hand tangling in his hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth. bucky reveled in the soft moans he was pulling from you, arm tightening around you as his other hand cupped the back of your neck to pull you closer.

you two spent some time like that, noses bumping, chests heaving, tongues tangling in an exchange that left your brain feeling dizzy when you finally pulled away for air. bucky rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb softly.

“wanda was right,” he spoke finally, placing another soft kiss on your lips before pulling back fully to look at you, “around the time i realized you were it for me walker came along. i might have taken my bitterness out on him.” bucky smiled sheepishly, earning a grin from you in return.

“i’m it for you?” you said, your voice slightly more hopeful than you had intended it to be.

bucky gave you the softest look you had ever seen before leaning in and kissing you again, gentler this time, his lips holding all of the adoration and love he had for you in them. he pulled away just barely to whisper against your lips, "you've always been it for me, y/n. just took me way too damn long to see it."

you couldn't help the dopey grin that broke out across your face, practically throwing yourself into bucky's arms in a tight hug. bucky laughed as he hugged you back with just as much enthusiasm, his strong arms fitting around you perfectly. "you've always been it for me too," your voice was breathless as you spoke, the truth of bucky's words still settling in.

bucky held you for a little while longer before you pulled apart, pressing a kiss on your forehead and then standing and holding his hand out to you. you smiled as you took it and stood, fingers intertwining with his as you both walked back to the house. before going inside you stopped him, grabbing the collar of his open button down and pulling him to your mouth in one last fevered kiss. bucky looked dazed as you pulled away, earning a grin from you as you stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"come to my room tonight." you knew he didn't need to be told twice as you patted his cheek gently and then sauntered into the house.

—————————————————————————

bucky didn't make you wait long that night, slipping into your room shortly after everyone had gone to bed. you barely had time to get a greeting out of your mouth before he was on you, kissing you with the same fierceness he had on the dock.

he walked you back to your bed as he kissed you, hands bunching your dress at your hips as he groaned into your mouth, "fuck sugar, do you have any idea what you've been doing to me?" he mumbled against your skin as he kissed your neck, lying you down on the bed in the process. a soft moan left your lips when he nibbled behind your ear gently, legs spreading to let him settle between your thighs fully.

the thick bulge that pressed against your center made you gasp, hips instinctively jerking at the contact. bucky hissed, holding your hips down with one hand while tugging the strap of your dress down with the other. your breasts spilled out of your dress, the cool air pebbling your nipples. bucky swore under his breath before latching onto one of your breasts, tongue laving around your nipple while his fingers tweaked the other one.

you whined at the stimulation, sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core as bucky kissed his way down from your breasts, pulling your dress farther off your body as he went. he licked and sucked at your skin, seemingly determined to leave marks wherever he could.

when he got to your stomach he slid the dress off you fully, leaving you in just your panties. his gaze was reverent as he took you in, eyes roaming your body shamelessly while he palmed the tent in the front of his shorts. you bit your lip, tugging at the bottom of his shirt in a silent plea for him to strip.

bucky smirked, grabbing your wrist gently and bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss your fingertips, "something you want, baby?" he cooed teasingly, earning a petulant whine from you as you pouted.

"gotta use your words, sugar." bucky said firmly, kissing your wrist before biting it gently, earning another small noise from you.

"take it off, bucky," you pouted, your free hand reaching to tug at his shirt. before you could grab it though bucky snatched your wrist, moving it to where your other hand was and pinning them both above your head with one hand in a move that stole your breath.

he leant over you, his weight pressing down into you ever so slightly as he spoke lowly, "i know you're used to getting whatever you want with me sugar, so i'll let that slide. but if i'm gonna entertain your pretty cunt, then you're gonna be a good girl and use some manners. you hear me?"

your body felt like it was on fire at his words, mumbling a yes as you nodded enthusiastically. bucky smiled, leaning down to kiss you before saying, "now let's try that again, sugar."

"p-please take your clothes off, bucky," your voice was a breathy sigh, bucky's dominance over you making your head feel light.

"good girl, that's my good girl using her manners." bucky praised you before pulling away to strip, leaving himself completely bare. your gaze landed on his cock as he settled between your thighs again, gawking slightly at the size as your pussy fluttered.

"can i touch you?" you said, giving him your best doe eyes though you really didn't need to. despite his show of restraint, bucky was just as turned on as you were, if not more.

he quickly guided your hand down to his cock, allowing you to wrap it around his shaft, groaning at the contact. his hips thrust into your hand as you pumped him, the slick between your thighs pooling at the effect you were having on him. you swiped your thumb across the tip, earning another groan and a jerky thrust from bucky before he grabbed your wrist gently, ceasing your movements.

"gonna make me cum in your hand if you don't stop, sugar," bucky chuckled at the confused expression on your face, kissing you softly before hooking his fingers in your panties and pulling them off your body. his gaze darkened when it landed on your glistening center, pupils blown with desire. you squirmed slightly, suddenly feeling vulnerable under bucky's intense stare. his hands on your hips stopped your wiggling, firm and grounding.

"this all for me, sweet girl?" he mumbled as he used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, sucking in a breath when he caught sight of your pulsing, wet hole winking at him. as if on instinct he shifted to his stomach, barely giving you time to breathe before his mouth was latched onto your pussy and eating you out like a starved man.

his tongue ran up and down your center, dipping into your hole to collect your slick before dragging it back up towards your clit, latching his lips around it and suckling. you cried out as he fucked you with his mouth, palm slapping over your mouth when you remembered there were other people in the house. though the thought of them catching you only turned you on more.

bucky seemed to take note of the way you clenched, pulling away and replacing his mouth with his fingers on your clit as he kissed your inner thighs, "i know sugar, it's so hard to be quiet isn't it? don't want anyone to hear what a good girl you're being for me, do you? don't want anyone to catch you being my little slut, huh?" bucky cooed at you, knowing the effect his words had on you and reveling in your body's reaction to them. you whined behind your palm, hips jerking in an attempt to get bucky's tongue back on your swollen cunt. bucky just shushed you, banding his arm around your waist to hold you to the bed. "be good for me baby. you make a sound, i stop." and then he dove back in, his efforts to make you cum on his tongue doubled.

your back arched off the bed, mouth open on a silent scream as tears filled your eyes. your pleasure was overwhelming you, bucky's expert mouth bringing you closer to your release swiftly. the entire time your hand was clamped over your mouth tightly, not daring to move it for fear of ripping your orgasm away from yourself.

bucky groaned into your pussy, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head as you fisted your hand in his hair. when he latched his lips around your clit and gave another harsh suck the cord snapped, white hot pleasure shooting through your body as you came with a muffled cry. bucky didn't stop, his tongue working to collect your cum as your hips rolled into his face. he only pulled away when you weakly shoved at his head after coming down from your high, the overstimulation causing you to shudder.

he kissed up your body, whispering praises into your skin before latching his lips to yours firmly. your arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue slipped into your mouth, moaning at the taste of yourself.

reaching down between the two of you, you wrapped your hand around his shaft once more, pressing his cock between the soaked lips of your cunt. you both groaned at the contact, bucky thrusting between your pussy lips instinctively.

"fuck sugar, i'm not gonna last long once i get inside you. been dreaming of this tight cunt forever," he mumbled into your neck and he continued to thrust gently, further coating himself in your slick.

"don't care, just want you inside me, want you to fill me up, please bucky please," you babbled, rolling your hips up to meet his and biting his shoulder to muffle your moan when the tip of his cock rubbed against your clit.

bucky groaned into your neck, shushing you with a kiss before he pulled his hips back and sank into you in one thrust. you couldn't help the keening moan that left your mouth when he filled you, head dropping back and body tensing. bucky put his hand over your mouth before he began thrusting, rolling his hips in a brutal pace that left you gasping for air.

"gotta be quiet baby," he rested his forehead against yours as he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, "when we go home i'll take you back to my place and you can be as loud as you want, yeah? i'll fuck this perfect pussy until you're crying."

your moan was muffled by his palm, pussy fluttering at the promise of more. bucky groaned at the feeling, thrusts picking up speed as a string of curses left his swollen pink lips. he latched his mouth onto your neck, sucking and groaning as the speed of his thrusts picked up. his other hand slipped between your bodies to circle your clit frantically, his mouth pulling away from your neck briefly to whisper in your ear, "all fucking mine now, aren't you? mine to fuck, mine to love- fuck-" his voice cut off on a broken groan when you squeezed around him at his words, the possessiveness in his tone shooting straight down to your cunt.

bucky managed to compose himself enough to continue, "c'mon baby, milk my cock. let me feel this perfect little pussy cum around me," his breathy voice in your ear combined with the way he was using your body sent you over the edge, your second orgasm crashing over you in waves that had you sobbing behind bucky's hand against your mouth. he was soon after, thrusting harshly a few more times before burying himself in you fully and groaning as he filled you with his seed.

he made no move to release you as you two came down, only removing his hand from your mouth to kiss you sweetly while he stroked your hair. when it became uncomfortable, he pulled out of you, biting his lip as he watched his spend trickle out of your used hole. he had half a mind to fuck it back into you with his fingers, but one look at your sleep expression had him softening and pressing a kiss to your head before grabbing a wet rag and cleaning the both of you up gently.

he tucked you into his side after you had both dressed and settled in your bed, both now a giggly, fucked out mess.

"did you mean it?" you whispered, thumb stroking his cheek lightly where your hand rested on his face.

though you didn't specify, bucky understood. he grabbed your wrist gently, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand before mumbling against your skin, "every single word. it's always been you. and i'm not making the mistake of letting you go twice."

you smiled before leaning up and kissing him, unable to stop smiling as you did. bucky was just as giddy as you, his lips turned up in a grin against your mouth as you two exchange giggly kisses. you eventually pulled away, settling into his side comfortably before drifting off into the best sleep of your life.

————————————————��————————

the house was quiet as you crept down to the kitchen, intent on making a cup of coffee for yourself and bucky. you figured it was too early for anyone else to be up as they had all been drinking, so you were shocked to see your brother sitting at the kitchen island, cup of coffee in hand and a suspicious look on his face.

"rough night?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at you as he sipped his coffee.

you cleared your throat, going to grab two mugs, "i don't know what you're talking about."

"is that what we're doing now?" the look andrew gave you let you know you had been caught, but you did your best to keep your cool.

"what exactly are we doing now?" you said as you grabbed the creamer from the fridge.

"lying to our older brother about fucking his best friend?" your shoulders tensed at his words, turning to him slowly. you expected him to be angry, but you were met with a look of annoyance. "oh come on, y/n! you're getting two mugs for christs sake!"

"w-well! it could have been for... someone else!" the octave of your voice was growing higher before your brother shushed you. you bounced on the balls of your feet nervously, "are you mad?"

he looked taken aback slightly at your words, "what- no? i've had a bet going with wanda for years. i lost by the way, thanks for that. thought it would take you guys at least a couple more years of pining."

you blinked, slightly stunned by your brothers calm demeanor, "wait.... you knew?" he nodded, "this whole time?" he nodded again, "about both of us?" he nodded once more, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"i think it might have been one of the worst kept secrets of the century. but you both thought you were being so discreet, the rest of us just... let you guys have it. we knew it would happen eventually." he spoke matter of factly, as if stating the obvious.

"and... what do you think about it?" you said nervously, though your nerves were quickly washed away by your brothers warm smile.

"i think it's about damn time," he said as he stood and grabbed his coffee, "but if he breaks your heart, i'm killing him myself. same goes for you, be nice to him."

you smiled back at him as you grabbed your mugs, "i think i can manage that just fine." you bumped your hip against his before making your way back up to your room, snorting when you saw bucky sitting up in bed and pouting at you.

"i woke up alone," he grumbled, holding out his arms and making grabby hands at you. a soft laugh left your lips as you walked over to him, setting the mugs down on the nightstand before you let him pull you back into bed with a giggle. he littered your face in kisses before placing a final, soft peck on your lips and nuzzling his face in your neck.

you think not breaking bucky barnes' heart was the easiest task you had been given.

—————————————————————————

thank you so much for reading!!

please consider liking/reblogging/commenting- it really helps writers out! <3

[tikkafreespirit]

this was amazingggg

I love this trope so much and not a lot of people write for it. This is absolute perfection just like everything else you write

the art of collaboration

pairing: bucky barnes x reader x john walker (winter agent x reader)

summary: bucky and walker couldn’t stand each other, and that was before they both starting competing for your affection. you remind them that there’s much more productive ways to get their energy out.

word count: 4k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, double penetration sex, anal, bucky reader and bucky have a past as fwb, lots of jealousy, dirty talk, mini praise kink, minors DNI

All of it echoed in your mind. Your friends yelling at you, trying to get your attention. The blade that sliced your arm. And then the detonation. It was all a blur after that.

It was your fault.

You and the rest of the team were sent on a mission— it was all very standard. There was a covert science team running illegal experiments. The team’s task was to bring in the leaders and retrieve all the data from the experiments. The data had crucial details about different buyers and sellers who’d helped keep the experiments running.

Everything was going according to plan— until it wasn’t. The rest of the team got caught in a cage that fell from the ceiling because you accidentally stepped on a pressure plate.

You didn’t even see the lead scientist sneak up behind you until he sliced your arm with a dagger. He snuck away and hit a detonate button on the way out.

It was only because of your friends that you all made it out alive.

They could’ve died. And their blood would be on your hands.

You were now sat towards the back of the jet, away from all the others. They weren’t mad at you, but you felt guilty and embarrassed.

Bucky was the first to come over to try to comfort you. You and Bucky had a long history.

Steve introduced you both after the Sokovia Accords incident, where you were both labeled enemies of the state.

You, Steve, Bucky, and Nat had been on the run together. Long nights with Bucky turned into long conversations which led to a growing bond. You both confided in each other— both of you having dark pasts.

Then, one night that friendship turned into something else. Steve and Nat had gone to fetch resources, leaving you and Bucky alone at the abandoned house you were all staying in.

Bucky accidentally walked in on you changing, but when he turned around to leave, you pulled him back towards you. It was fueled by loneliness. You both wanted to feel wanted by someone— even just for one night.

It became way more than a one night thing.

Neither of you wanted to ruin your friendship, so you suggested being friends with benefits. The last remaining bit of 1940s morals that Bucky had were in shock. After his shock wore off, he agreed.

You both only called things off after the battle against Thanos.

Neither of you had even brought it up since joining the Thunderbolts.

Bucky sat down beside you. “You can’t beat yourself up for what happened.” He told you, softly. You shook your head. “Buck, it was all my fault. I did everything wrong. What if you had gotten hurt or died? That would be on me, nobody else.” You argued.

He hesitantly took your hand in his. He leaned in closer to you, so no one would overhear him. “You once told me that when you looked at me, you didn’t see my mistakes. You said my heart spoke louder than my mistakes. I look at you the same way.” He told you, genuinely.

His words brought tears to your eyes. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you, Bucky.” You admitted. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He was one of the few constants in your life.

“I can’t care this much. It put the team at risk. I can’t be so worried about your safety that I put the entire team in jeopardy.” You told him, pulling away from his touch. He went back to join the others, knowing you needed your space.

“Keep it in your pants, Barnes. She’s distraught. Now is not the time to make a move.” John scoffed at him. It wasn’t the first time they’d fought over you. Bucky gave him a quick jab in the ribs before returning to his book.

When you all landed at the tower, you went straight to your bedroom. You wanted to be alone, little did you know that John was hot on your trail.

He caught your bedroom door before you closed it. “Wait up,” he called, closing your door behind him.

You spun around. “What’re you doing here?” You asked, wiping away the tears that had been on your cheeks moments earlier.

“I wanted to check on you.” He said, closing the distance between the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a hug. You felt yourself lean into his touch as you broke down sobbing.

He squeezed you tighter. He hated seeing you upset. He hadn’t known you for very long, but he found himself thinking about you more often.

He softly stroked your hair, trying to bring you any comfort he could. “Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.” He murmured into your hair.

He felt his heart melt when you pulled away and he saw your red eyes. He cupped your cheeks, wiping away your tears.

You sat down onto your bed, while he made his way over to your dresser. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and tshirt for you. It was the first time you’d gotten to see John be this caring. It was easy to imagine him as a romantic partner or a dad.

He kneeled in front of you, taking off your combat boots. He moved onto the zipper of your suit, unzipping it all the way. He pulled down your suit, until you were left in a black bra and panties.

He ignored the part of his brain that had always dreamed of seeing you like this. It wasn’t time for that. And that wasn’t why he was helping you. He was comforting you because he cared about you.

He closely examined the cut on your arm. “It really fucking stings,” you hissed.

“I’ll clean it up.” He said, grabbing the medical supplies he knew were in your bathroom. He cleaned and bandaged your arm with a gentleness that was a direct contrast to his strength as a super soldier.

“There we go, princess. I’ll even kiss it better,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss against the bandage. You surprised yourself when you giggled at the gesture. That laugh was melodic to John’s ears.

He quickly helped you get dressed into the clothes he’d grabbed. “Do you need me to grab you anything else, princess?” He asked stroking some of your hair behind your ear.

“Stay with me?” You asked him, softly. The frailty he heard in your voice could make him give in to every one of your desires.

He nodded, giving you a soft smile. “I’ll go to my room and get changed out of my gear. Then, I’ll be right back. I promise.” He kissed the back of your hand before leaving.

You curled up under the duvet, trying to ignore the flashbacks to the mission that kept popping into your head. You turned a movie on, so you could quiet the voices in your head.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” you replied, softly.

John snuck into your room, wearing a tight black shirt and grey sweatpants. You definitely took notice.

He lifted up the duvet and crawled in beside you. His body was practically radiating heat. You curled into his touch, resting your head on his chest.

“You look so pretty like this.” He said, weaving his fingers through your hair and scratching your scalp. You hummed, contently. “You like that?” He asked you, softly.

You nodded, caressing his chest with your fingers. “Don’t stop. It feels so nice.” You told him.

You both focused on the movie, enjoying the other’s company. You pulled yourself closer to him, throwing one of your legs over his hip. He tried to fight the smirk on his face.

He grasped at the back of your thigh, letting his hand slowly dip down to rest on your ass. He waited to see if you’d pull away. You didn’t. In fact, he thought he saw a smile on your face.

He swore under his breath when his phone dinged beside him.

A text from Yelena popped up: “You need to do your debrief mission report. I don’t make the rules.”

“Ahh fuck, princess. I have to fill out a stupid report really quick, but I’ll come right back. You be okay without me?” He asked.

You nodded. “Go ahead. You know where to find me.” You replied.

A few seconds after he left, there was a quick knock at the door. That was fast, John. “Come in,” you said.

You were surprised to see Bucky standing in your room. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position. “What’re you doing here?” You asked him. Your shock was written all over your face.

It brought back too many memories of Bucky sneaking into your room late at night.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” He said, gently. He stood still— waiting for any sign from you to proceed. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you hadn’t been alone.

Then, you saw the mischievous glint in his eye. You didn’t know how but you knew he knew you hadn’t been alone.

“I really don’t want to talk about the mission anymore.” You told him, honestly.

“That’s okay, sweets. Whatever you need.” He said, walking around to the other side of the bed. He grabbed two phones and his wallet out of his pocket and set them on the beside table.

“Is that Yelena's phone?” You asked, recognized the sparkly navy blue phone case.

“Maybe,” he winked, shrugging at you. You were left stunned as you realized he sent the message to get John away. He sat down onto the mattress beside you. “Why do you both get on each other’s nerves so much?” You asked him, curiously.

Bucky and John were always butting heads, but it was starting to become more frequent. And most of the time, their arguments were centered around you— who got to sit next to you at dinner, who got to train with you, etc.

“I hate watching him drool over you, sweets.” He almost growled. Just the mental image of how John stared at you when you entered a room was enough to send a chill down Bucky’s spine.

Before you knew it, Bucky’s hands were on your back. His large fingers massaged your muscles the way he knew you loved. Old habits kicked in as he perfectly kneaded the knots in your back.

You whimpered, arching your back. “Still know you better than anyone, sweets,” he whispered into your ear. His breath against the back of your neck made goosebumps appear down your arms.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss against the base of your throat. He slowly moved up, peppering soft kisses on your neck and collarbone.

The kisses turned sloppier. “Bucky, what’re you doing?” Your breath hitched in your throat. He waited a minute before responding. He left wet kisses all over your skin.

“Just trying to make you feel better,” he said simply. He still knew your body like the back of his hand. He started sucking on the skin behind your ear— knowing it would make you squirm and lean into him.

Your breaths came out light and airy. “Missed you,” you mumbled, reminiscing.

The door to your room swung open, revealing John. His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. Your eyes softly closed as Bucky worked on giving you a hickey.

“Come on, Barnes. This is just desperate.” John scoffed, causing the two of you to jump apart.

“Oh look, Walker here to ruin the day, just on schedule.” Bucky rolled his eyes. Bucky got up from spot next to you, going toe to toe with John.

“Move on, old man. She doesn’t want someone like you.” John taunted. The only reaction he got out of Bucky was a chuckle— a chuckle that let John know he only knew the half of it.

“Really? Cause we have ten years of history that disagree.” Bucky said, winking over at you. John’s hand curled into a ball. He glanced over at you. From the look on your face, he knew Bucky wasn’t bluffing.

“Well you clearly weren’t leaving her satisfied enough if she came to me. Don’t worry, princess. I know how to take care of you.” John responded.

The two were scowling at each other, and you wondered how long you had until one of them chose violence.

“What if I want you both?” Your voice came out small and weak. Their necks both snapped as they quickly looked over at you. They looked like their eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. “What do you mean, sweets?” Bucky asked.

He wanted to make sure that this was really what you wanted before he went any further. “I’m so tired of being the logical one all the time. I just want to be selfish for once and do something that feels good.” You explained, pulling your hair into a ponytail.

Bucky and John both looked at each other— there was an unspoken agreement. Their feud? Didn’t matter right now. You needed them, and that was all they cared about.

“You want the two of us to take care of you, princess?” John asked, slotting himself behind you on the bed. He raked his hands down your sides, playfully squeezing your hips.

His fingers found the hem of your tshirt and started to tug it over your head. Bucky grabbed the waistband of your sweatpants, slowly pulling them down your legs. They both didn’t waste any time stripping down to their boxers, letting the rest of their clothes land in the pile on the floor.

Bucky kneeled on the mattress in front of you. He noticed the way your thighs clenched together as you looked at him. “You gonna let me see how wet you are?” He asked you. You quickly nodded your head, biting down on your lip.

It was all too natural for Bucky to jump back into this setting. There was something familiar but also new about it.

He hooked his fingers in your panties and tore them off your legs. “Oh, fuck. You’re dripping, sweets. All this from the thought of two super soldiers fucking you.” Bucky groaned.

“I can smell you from here. You smell so sweet, princess. You gonna give Bucky a taste?” John whispered in your ear.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged him.

John sat down with his back against the headboard, slowing spreading his legs and pulling you to sit with your back against his chest. Bucky crawled up between your legs.

There was a popping sound as John unclasped your bra and threw it onto the floor. His hands roughly reached forward and grabbed your breasts. You whined, letting your eyes flutter shut.

You felt Bucky throw your legs over his shoulders as he licked a thick stripe through your folds. You squirmed against Bucky's tongue, high-pitched moans leaving your lips.

John softly pinched your nipples, making a jolt run through your body. “Right there, Buck, please,” you whimpered as Bucky’s nose rubbed against your clit.

Your hands flew down to John’s bare thighs, sinking your fingers into the meaty flesh. Your nails left little crescent indents. “Look so pretty squirming like this,” John praised you in your ear. Bucky shared a similar sentiment, so he sped up his pace.

John loved feeling the way your back arched against him. There was no space between the two of you.

Bucky drew figure eights on your clit with his tongue. Every time you squirmed, he tightened his grip your thighs.

Every inch of your skin was on fire. Every touch from the men seared into your skin and your memory.

Your stomach felt tight as Bucky swirled his tongue around your clit. You called out his name, one of your hands flying down to grab onto Bucky’s hair. You held his head still, grinding down against him.

A mix of a groan and moan left his lips— the soft vibration made your belly tingle. Bucky always loved when you manhandled him when he was going down on you.

You clenched your thighs around Bucky’s head, feeling the room start to spin. “Gotta keep these wide open,” John said, grabbing onto your thighs and pulling them apart as far as he could.

The feeling of Bucky’s mouth on you was too much for you to handle. You kept one hand wrapped up in Bucky’s hair, while your other hand snuck back and cupped the back of John’s head. You were clinging to them both like you needed them to live.

“Go ahead, princess. You can do it, cum for us.” John coaxed you, placing kisses along your shoulder blades.

John’s touch was soft and gentle— pulling you back down to earth. While Bucky’s touch was hungry and electric, and made you soar.

Your breathing quickened, tightening your grip on both the men. “I’m gonna, oh— fuck, baby,” you screamed.

Your high hit you all at once. John kept your thighs spread for Bucky, allowing him to press kisses against your clit while you gasped for air. You threw your head back against John’s shoulder.

“So fucking beautiful,” Bucky swore when he finally came up for air.

He leaned towards you, kissing you gently as you recovered from your orgasm. You tasted yourself on his lips. It made you hungry for more.

You reached backwards, grasping for John’s shoulders. “You want to have John fuck you now? Want him to fill you up really good?” Bucky teased you.

The wind was knocked out of you— and your body was exhausted. Both from the long mission earlier in the day and from Bucky’s mouth.

“So tired, but I need you so bad, John.” You guided his fingers towards the slickness between your legs.

He swore under his breath when he felt your arousal soak his fingers. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll do all the work— gonna fill up this pretty cunt.” He told you.

Bucky moved to the end of the bed, slipping his hand into his boxers as he watched you both. Watching you with someone else meant Bucky didn’t miss a second of seeing you come undone.

John laid you down on your side and then laid himself down in front of you. He saw the fatigue in your eyes, but also saw the neediness.

He roughly grabbed your top leg and hooked it over his hips. “You need my cock so bad, you’re gonna let me fuck you sideways, princess?” He asked.

You eagerly nodded your head. “Please, John. Fill me up,” you were begging him.

“Fill you up with what, honey? You want my fingers?” He teased you. He knew damn well exactly what you needed. He pushed two fingers into you, softly pumping them in and out of you.

You whimpered as he curled his fingers inside of you. “It’s not enough, John. I need your cock, please. Need to feel you,” you said, reaching down and palming him through his boxers.

“Fuck, princess,” he groaned. The sight of you begging for him was too much. He rutted his hips against your hand.

Quickly shedding his boxers, John lined his cock up with your leaking entrance. He practically groaned just imagining how easily he’d be able to slip into you.

“Oh, wait a minute. You have any condoms in here?” John asked you. Every second he waited without being inside you was painful. “Second drawer, right side,” Bucky mumbled, gesturing towards the bedside table.

Bucky groaned as John rummaged through the drawer. Bucky tightened his grip on his cock, letting his eyes linger on the arousal that was coating the inside of your thighs.

“How do you know…?” John’s brain started to fill in the rest.

“Old habits, remember,” Bucky teased.

“Grab two,” you mumbled, breathlessly. They both froze. You grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards you. “You gonna take us both, sweets? You need two super soldiers to feel full?” Bucky asked. His shock was written all over his face.

He nestled himself behind you, grabbing your hips greedily. They both quickly slipped on the condoms, not wanting to wait any longer. “Don’t worry, we’ll start gentle.” Bucky whispered into your ear.

John hooked your leg around his hip again, prodding your entrance with his cock. You sunk your teeth into his shoulder as he pushed through your folds slowly. “Fuck, you feel so tight, princess.” He groaned.

He only pushed half his cock inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. Then, you felt Bucky’s hand on your hip, possessively. He pushed you towards John. It felt like you were splitting you open as John bottomed out, his hips rubbing flush against yours.

John let out a choked moan. You couldn’t even adjust to the feeling before you felt Bucky’s cock plunging into you. You swore under your breath.

You felt such a fullness that you couldn’t even move. “Just a second, oh god,” you moaned, clinging to John’s shoulders.

Your skin was on fire. You were sandwiched between the two men that towered over you. John pressed up against your chest and Bucky shoved against your back.

The heat radiating off their skin made it hard to focus. Bucky wrapped his metal arm around your waist, holding his hand against your stomach. The cold sting of the metal provided a perfect relief.

“Can feel how full you are, sweets,” Bucky said, feeling the pressure in your abdomen with his hand.

Bucky wished you could see how good you looked being stuffed full by both men. He pressed kisses down your throat and onto your shoulder. “You’re takin’ us so well, princess. You ready for us to move?” John asked gently.

John started thrusting into you first, with Bucky not far behind him. “Shit, princess. Keep squeezing my cock like this, and I’m not gonna last very long.” John swore.

Then, they found a rhythm, both of them snapping their hips into you at the same time. “You wanna make her cum, Walker? Talk dirty to her,” Bucky instructed, remembering the trick he’d learned a long time ago.

John noticed the way your eyes shot open, questioning if you heard him right. That assured him that Bucky was telling the truth. “Wouldn’t expect that from a sweet little thing like you, princess? Is Bucky telling the truth?” John asked, tightened his grip on you as he kept pounding into you.

“Uh huh,” you tried to respond as your mouth hung open. Your brain couldn’t focus on anything besides the way they were thrusting into you with super soldier pace.

The noises coming from where their bodies met yours were pornographic. “Look at that, princess. You’re coating my cock so well. Feels like your tight little cunt is made for me— squeezing me so perfect.” He moaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“Didn’t know you liked it so dirty, sweets. It’s not even enough for you to have one of us. You need to have all your holes filled?” Bucky coaxed. Bucky knew you were close from the way you were panting.

A wave of pleasure washed over you as the base of John’s cock brushed up against his clit. When he did it again, you knew it wasn’t accidental.

“I want to cum,” you begged them.

“Go ahead, princess. Cum for us.” John instructed. The room started spinning. You were too full— too full to handle. Deep grunts came from both the men.

Your orgasm hit you. “Oh shit… I’m—” you gasped.

“Me too, sweets,” Bucky panted in your ear, shooting hot ropes into the condom.

Bucky's thrusts slowed down as John continued pounding into you, chasing his own high. “Come on, John, sweetie. Cum for me,” you praised him.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted, his thrusts faltering as he came.

They both coaxed you down from your high. Bucky’s cold metal fingers tracing down your back, following your spine. John caressed your thigh, which was still haphazardly thrown over his hip.

“So pretty when you cum, princess,” John whispered, kissing your cheek.

“I agree, sweets. You did such a good job takin’ us so well.” Bucky praised you as well.

Their sweaty bodies clung to yours. “Fuck, I need a shower.” You panted.

“Would you like some company? Room for two maybe?” Bucky whispered in your ear. You knew you were in for a long night.

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[tikkafreespirit]

Unholy Trinity

Summary : You're casually sleeping with Bucky and John. Not at the same time—until you are.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) x John Walker

Warnings/tags : Thunderbolts* spoilers!!!!!! Tower fic! Implied threesome (MMF), Bi! reader, Bi! Bucky, Bi! John, Tech specialist! reader, it’s mentioned that you’re Ava’s ex, internalised homophobia, sexual identity exploration, past trauma (religious and societal repression), cursing, polyamory themes. (Please let me know if I miss anything!!!)

Word count : 9.3k 

Requested by : Anon (Based on this request)

Note : As always, sex in my writing isn’t too detailed and not the centerpiece, but rather a storytelling tool. This fic is less about the threesome and more about the reader helping Bucky and John come to terms with their sexuality. I’m tagging the general Bucky taglist, but please ignore this if it’s not your thing. Enjoy!

They didn’t need another super soldier.

They had too many of those. What they desperately needed was someone who could reprogram a Stark-level firewall with one hand while defusing a biometric kill-switch with the other, or someone whose thoughts could move faster than a repurposed HYDRA drone and who could keep their head cool enough during a mission gone wrong so they could reroute a way out.

When Ava muttered, “I have someone,” the rest of the New Avengers raised their eyebrows. 

Then, Ava said your name.

Yelena twirled a knife between her fingers. “You sure that’s a good idea? You told me she nearly blew up your apartment that one time.”

Ava rolled her eyes and looked down at her boots. “We’ve grown since then.”

You had grown. A lot.

The breakup hadn’t been graceful. There were tears, there was even a screaming match in a Denny’s parking lot that still lived rent-free in both your heads. You had called her “a quantum-emotional black hole,” and she had told you to go “code a conscience.”

Yes, it had hurt, but that was years ago. Now, you both have healed. Mostly.

When the team asked who the hell you were, Ava crossed her arms and said, “She’s… my ex.”

—

The first day Ava brought you into the team, you walked into the tower with a casual confidence that came from having seen some serious shit and come out the other end smarter.

“Hi,” you said, with a crooked smile. “I’m the tech gremlin Ava warned you about.”

Alexei boomed, “Welcome, gremlin!” and clapped you on the back so hard you nearly stumbled. Yelena snorted and shook your hand. Bob waved from behind a magazine.

That was when you felt two eyes watching you. 

Bucky turned toward you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. His face was unreadable, but his teeth clenched slightly as he studied in the way you moved, the way you owned the space around you without trying. His voice, when he spoke, was almost thoughtful.

“Good to have you here,” he said, like he meant it. Like he wasn’t just saying hello, but figuring out how to categorise you in his mind. You caught the flicker of curiosity in his eyes— the kind felt like… interest.

John didn’t even pretend not to stare. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest, and gave you a once-over that could only be described as bold. He ran a hand through his hair, almost reflexively, like he’d suddenly become aware of what he looked like. 

“Well,” he said, dragging the word out just enough to make it suggestive. “Ava wasn’t kidding.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

He smirked unapologetically. “Trouble.”

—

It didn’t take long for the team to realise you weren’t just a tech genius, you were now fully committed to being their tech genius. You made the tower feel less like a military base and more like a home with a working AI that cracked corny jokes that you programmed, a custom coffee bar that responded to voice commands, and a training sim you programmed to replicate everything from underground bunkers to Waffle House at 2 a.m.

As expected, Ava adjusted to you faster than anyone. Maybe it was the years of history. After the first week, she stopped introducing you as her ex and just started calling you her friend.

You soon realised you still fight like you did before — a reason why this relationship would never work— but now, the two of you high-fived when you cooled off. 

Growth, right?

Besides, you might not love her like that anymore, but you still liked each other as people.

Yelena warmed up to you in her own way. The first time she watched you dismantle a Chitauri drone with a spork and some chewing gum, she nudged your shoulder and declared, “I like you.” After that, you two started tag-teaming pranks. You were the brains, she was the brawn. Bob started avoiding both of you in the mornings.

Speaking of Bob— he liked you from the second you complimented the topping on his sandwich. It didn’t take long to figure out that the key to staying on Bob’s good side was noticing the small things—especially the ones he’d clearly put effort into. Whether it was a meticulously layered lunch or a new patch sewn onto his jacket, a little encouragement went a long way. Bob cared, and he noticed when you cared back.

Alexei decided you were family the moment you added a cooling system into his old Red Guardian suit. He cried a little, and you pretended not to notice. He started calling you "little hacker bear," which you endured with a sigh and a hidden smile.

But it was Bucky and John who were... complicated.

They were never outright fighting, not over you, but there was some kind of tension there.

Bucky would suddenly appear next to you during team meetings, John would offer to “help” on any mission you signed onto. It was like they were both orbiting you but never said anything since… they didn't even know you liked men.

Until…

It was sometime after midnight— Ava, Yelena, and you all gathered in the kitchen, raiding the snack stash and talking nonsense. Between spoonfuls of Nutella and sips of juice, the conversation had shifted to hookups and exes.

“I don’t really have a type,” you said, tapping the spoon against your lip. “But Ava’s still the most chaotic person I’ve ever dated.”

Ava rolled her eyes, orange juice in hand. “You’re just mad I called you a 'human rootkit' that one time.”

“One time?” you repeated incredulously. “You said it on my birthday.”

Yelena chuckled and bit into her cookie.  “Wait, wait, I need a ranking. Who’s number one on your disaster list?”

“Oh, easy,” you said. “I once hooked up with a guy who tried to implant a chip in my spine during sex.”

Yelena choked on a chocolate chip and burst into laughter. “What?! Who does that?”

“That’s not a hookup,” Ava rolled her eyes, “that’s an assassination attempt.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, “Sue me. He had a great jawline.”

Yelena wiped a tear from her eye. “I still don’t get how you both do the dating thing. Romance seems like... too much paperwork.”

You chuckled. “That’s because you’re not built for emotional bureaucracy, Lena.”

Then came the sound—clunk—something hitting the floor behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder.

Bucky was standing in the kitchen doorway like someone had blue-screened his brain, his eyes just a little too wide. Next to him, John blinked, mouth half-open like he’d just discovered a cheat code.

Ava frowned. “You okay?”

Still, nothing. It was almost as if the two of them turned into statues.

Yelena tilted your head. “Let them be.”

You all turned back to your snack, brushing it off like it was nothing.

But Bucky’s mind was racing. She dates guys? She dates—oh. Okay. Okay, noted. Calm down.

John, meanwhile, was already recalibrating his entire mindset. Bi. She’s bi. That’s... that’s a green light, right? That counts. I'm still in this.

You smiled just a little wider as you took another bite of Nutella. Oh, You thought to yourself, they didn't know.

—

It was a lazy afternoon when Ava found you leaning against the railing of the upper balcony overlooking the tower’s gym. Your elbows rested on the metal bar, your eyes locked on the sparring mat below like a cat watching her prey.

Bucky and John were sparring.

Both of them were in sleeveless shirts, their muscles slick with sweat, fabric clinging to their bodies. Every movement was fast and brutal, calculated but controlled punches delivered by two men who knew how to hit where it hurt. The sound of fists meeting flesh echoed through the rafters rhythmically like the world’s most aggressive metronome.

You bit your lip as Bucky landed a clean hit to John’s ribs. John growled, retaliating with a shove that sent Bucky back, just enough to bait him. Then they were grappling— Bucky flipping John onto his back with a twist, only for John to wrap his legs around Bucky’s waist and counter. Your brain short-circuited for a moment.

A small, involuntary sigh escaped your lips.

Behind you, Ava flickered into solid matter and groaned. “No. No, no, no. Don’t even think about it.”

You feigned innocence, even though you were unable to keep your eyes off them. “Think about what?”

“Them!”

You arched an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, almost fondly. “I’m over you. You leave your wet towels on the bed and talk through movies.”

“But you loved it,” you teased.

“I was deluded.”

“Then why do you care who I ogle?”

Ava gestured aggressively toward the mat, where Bucky now had John pinned, forearm pressed to his chest. “Because I’m trying to save you from yourself. That—” she waved again, exasperated, “is more testosterone for any one girl to handle.”

You hummed, eyes drifting back down. Bucky smirked—he was enjoying this match. John wasn’t exactly fighting him off. 

“…Still,” you whispered, mouth dry, “I could die happy.”

Ava gave you a look of utter betrayal. “I am begging you— please get a vibrator and some standards.”

You shrugged, smug. 

“Fine,” she sighed, “Just don’t come crying to me when one of them broods in your bed for six hours and the other tries to impress you by bench-pressing a motorcycle.”

You rested your head on your hands and kept admiring the view. “Sounds kind of hot.”

She gave you a deadpan stare, but there was affection tucked under the exasperation. “So was Pompeii.”

You both fell into a companionable silence, leaning side by side on the railing. Below, John reversed the pin and shoved Bucky to the mat, bodies tangled, both panting like they needed to tear each other apart or make out about it.

Maybe Ava was right. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

But terrible ideas never looked this good.

—

The first time Bucky did anything about his little crush on you, it was in the kitchen.

After weeks of glances and flirtation, you and Bucky finally broke.

He was cooking that night.

That alone had caught you off guard. The vision of a man built like a brick house and shaped by decades violence, calmly slicing onions like he was born with a chef’s knife in one hand and a combat knife in the other was… something. He had his sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, brow furrowed in focus. His movements were measured, even now.

His human forearm flexed as he chopped. 

You leaned against the counter, letting your eyes roam freely. “Didn’t peg you for the domestic type, chef.”

Without looking up, he replied, “Didn’t peg you for someone who talks this much, at first.”

Your eyebrow arched. “That supposed to be an insult?”

He finally glanced your way. “It’s just… true.”

With Bucky, everything felt like it could tilt into something else if you pushed too hard — or not hard enough. You’d been dancing around this for weeks.

Tonight, you reached.

You brushed past him, on purpose, to grab a spice jar. His arm shot out, catching your wrist mid-motion. Not hard, not rough, just… firm. 

“You’re in my space,” he warned, almost amused.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “You gonna make me move?”

His eyes dropped to your mouth. “You like playing with fire?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” You taunted, stepping closer.

That was all it took.

He moved forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss that felt like a nuclear detonation. His hands were on your waist, dragging you against him, mouth hungry like he’d wanted this forever and finally stopped trying to resist.

But even then—he pulled back, just enough to breathe.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, voice hoarse, forehead pressed to yours. “I need to hear it.”

You reached up, tugged the tie from his hair, and let his hair fall.

“I want this,” you confirmed. “I want you, Bucky.”

The look in his eyes was electric, like your words lit a fuse.

You barely heard the clatter of the spice jar hitting the floor.

“Upstairs. Now,” he growled against your lips, breath ragged.

You grinned, dizzy from his mouth. “Bossy.”

He grabbed your chin, fingers pressing just enough to make you gasp. “No. Just in control.”

You didn’t walk to your room. You stumbled and tripped. Bucky shoved you inside like he couldn’t wait another second—like he’d combust if he didn’t have you now.

He didn’t undress you. He destroyed your clothes, like fabric was just an obstacle between his hands and your skin. His mouth followed, trailing heat and teeth and filthy sounds.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide. 

“You wanna act smart,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your collarbone, “but this—” his fingers slid between your legs, satisfied with the sleek heat, “—this doesn’t lie.”

You gasped, loudly.

He chuckled darkly before pulling back. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

And then, he wrecked you.

He fucked like he fought. He pinned your wrists above your head and made you beg without ever asking for it. Every breath he dragged from your lungs belonged to him. The bruises he left weren’t careless, they were crafted. 

Perhaps, after so many years without control, he craved it in other ways.

You weren’t complaining.

And when you came, you saw white.

You didn’t even know your own name for a moment. Just the sound of his voice growling filth in your ear and the press of his body, too hot, too good, too much.

Then, when your body was trembling from aftershocks and your back had slid down the wall—he crouched in front of you, sweaty hair falling into his face, pupils blown wide. He kissed your thigh, then your knee.

“Not done,” he said roughly. “Not even close.”

Much, much later, you lay tangled in his sheets, his hand splayed over your hip, thumb idly stroking a bruise he’d left with his teeth.

You turned your head lazily. “Just so you know… I’m seeing other people.”

He didn’t look at you, but blinked up at the ceiling like he was processing it.

“That okay?” you asked.

“I told myself I didn’t want anything serious,” he said carefully.

“And now?”

His eyes finally met yours. “It’s still okay.”

You smiled, smug. But his grip on your hip tightened, just a little. Just enough to remind you who put those bruises there.

“Just make sure they don’t leave marks I can see,” he warned. “Because I will cover them up.” His mouth brushed your shoulder. “With mine.”

—

You and John started in your workspace.

It wasn’t planned. It sure as hell wasn’t smart.

John Walker didn’t do subtle, and he didn’t really do hard boundaries, either. He just strolled in one afternoon—boots echoing against concrete, hands in his pockets, that shit-eating grin already stretching across his face.

“Whatcha workin’ on, genius?” he asked, giving a peek to his southern charm.

You didn’t look up, though you smiled. You just kept working, fingers moving with precision over the exposed wiring of a decapitated drone.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you teased.

He moved closer and leaned in. Your teeth clenched when his breath skimmed your neck.

“Not when I’ve got the best view in the building,” he said, like it was obvious.

You finally glanced over. “You flirt like a linebacker with a head injury,” you pointed out playfully.

He laughed. “It’s working, is it?”

John kept showing up after that. You kept pretending he was a nuisance. He asked stupid questions just to make you roll your eyes. Sometimes you caught him watching your hands while you worked— like he was wondering if they could dismantle him as easily as they dismantled a machine.

By the fourth visit, you flirted back. You didn’t expect him to love  it. But he did, as if you’d flipped a switch in him he didn’t know he had.

By the next visit, you had him against the wall,your fingers twisted in his collar, mouths crashing like you were trying to win a war through friction. He gasped into it, hands hovering like he didn’t know where to touch until you grabbed his wrist and put it on your waist.

See, John didn’t take control like Bucky did.

John gave it up.

Maybe, after years of being on top of the chain of field command, he now just wanted to follow orders.

“You want this?” you asked, lips brushing his jaw.

“Yes,” he groaned. “Fuck, yes. Just—tell me what to do.”

So you did.

You pushed him down to his knees on the cold concrete floor. He didn’t hesitate. Looked up at you with flushed cheeks, eyes wide, tongue wetting his lower lip, palms pressed to your thighs.

You used him, and he liked it.

He made sounds like prayer— muffled, desperate, needy. And when you came with your hand in his hair and his name tangled in your throat, he looked prouder than he did when he got a medal of honour.

Later when your bodies were tangled in sweat-stuck sheets, he sat on the edge of your bed, bare-chested, his hands twitching like they didn’t know how to relax around you.

“I’m not lookin’ for anything serious,” he said suddenly, voice quieter. His back was to you. “Got a kid. A real messy life. Divorce. Not yet, at least.”

You reached for the sheet, tugging it over your chest. “Same, I…,” you hesitated, but then realised you needed to be honest. “I’m seeing other people, too,” you added carefully.

He froze as you watched the breath catch in his throat before he forced himself to nod.

“Cool,” he said, but his voice cracked. He reached down and started picking at a loose thread on your blanket like it might hold him together. You tilted your head.

“You sure?” you asked, not unkindly.

He turned back to you then. All that Walker bravado was stripped away. He was just a man now— a little bruised, a little confused, but also… satisfied.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice rougher and forcing a smile. “Long as I still get to see you.”

—

This was fine. It had to be fine.

You’d been honest with them—at least technically. You told them you weren’t exclusive, told them you were seeing other people. 

What you didn’t tell them—what you hadn’t figured out how to say—was that the other person was each other.

You didn’t plan for things to get this tangled. At first, it really was casual — nothing more than mutual attraction carefully packaged in boundaries you thought would keep everyone safe. 

But those lines blurred fast. 

Because it didn’t feel casual when Bucky touched you. Not when he held your face like it was made of gold, or kissed you like he was trying to edit your past and write himself into every footnote. His control made you drown in your own body, in the best possible way.

And it didn’t feel casual when John looked at you like you were a miracle. Like every time you gave him an order was a gift and he didn’t know what he did to deserve it. He pleased you with a grin and a groan— and then he’d hold you afterward, tighter than you’d ever asked him to. 

They were both rough— just in different ways.

Bucky fucked you like he had to, like he was afraid it was the last time, like he needed to memorise you. Like if he touched you hard enough, long enough, the world would stop trying to take things from him.

John fucked you like he wanted to, like every touch was a prize, like he couldn't believe you kept letting him back in. Like he was proud to be wanted, even if only for the night.

You weren’t supposed to catch feelings. Not for either of them.

Definitely not for both.

But then you started smiling when you heard their footsteps. You reached for both of them in your sleep sometimes, not knowing who you were dreaming about.

Every other night, almost like clockwork, one of them would find their way to your door.

You actually had to make a chart. A chart, because you were starting to forget who liked which pillow, who left bruises and who left bite marks. You were scheduling orgasms like mission briefings, trying not to moan the other’s name by mistake— because you could not choose. You held affection for them equally, and it hurt too much to let either of them go. It got to the point where you were on your knees for John in the sauna, still tasting Bucky’s name in your mouth. Or bent over Bucky’s bathtub, still sore from the night before, as he grunted your name against your throat.

And it wasn’t just about the sex anymore.

Bucky started learning your habits like clockwork. He remembered which tea helped when your anxiety hit at 2 a.m. He kept your favourite blanket folded on the couch and would wrap you in it without a word when you looked too far away in your thoughts. On missions, he always messaged when he could, just a single “Still breathing” or a blurry photo of him with his thumbs up. And when he knew he’d be gone too long, he pre-ordered your favourite takeaway to arrive during dinner time. 

John, in his own chaotic way, made a ritual of “jogging” every morning, conveniently ending his route at your favorite coffee shop. The baristas all knew your order by now, and somehow, he always remembered to ask if you needed anything added— extra syrup on bad days, oat milk when your stomach was off. The cup would be in your hands before you were even fully awake, a lopsided smile on his face like he hadn’t just run three miles to bring it to you. 

Afterward, when your bodies were tangled and the room smelled like sweat, they both let you talk about anything and everything. Bucky would lie behind you, chin resting on your shoulder, his fingers tracing shapes into your skin, humming low while you vented about broken code. The next night, John would lie there shirtless, grinning like your voice was the soundtrack to his day, chiming in with half-jokes even when he had no idea what you were talking about.

They didn’t interrupt. They didn’t try to fix you. But Bucky always made sure your favorite hoodie was warm before you put it on. John picked up extra snacks at the store he thought you’d like and left them on your desk without a word. 

With them, you didn’t have to perform. You could just be.

Neither of them never really asked who else you slept with, not in any way that mattered.

Maybe, they just didn’t want to know.

Then… you started watching them.

Not in a weird way.

But you had to. Because somewhere between the fourth orgasm of the week and realising you were genuinely worried about hurting their feelings, you started noticing… things.

You’d catch it in the small stuff first — how Bucky would shift his stance slightly when someone mentioned John’s name. He wasn’t annoyed, it was just… tense. 

Or how John would crack a playful joke at Bucky's expense with just a little too much nervous laughter. Like he was trying to prove it didn’t get under his skin. 

You told yourself it was nothing. Just two men with history, different temperaments, too much testosterone and too many kills between them.

But then came the moments that weren’t so easy to brush off.

Like during training, John tossed Bucky a practice knife with that cocky little grin he got when he was showing off. Bucky catching it mid-air without even glancing up, tossing it back with an underhand spin John blinked, just once—but his ears went a little pink.

Or in the gym, they loved sparring with each other, circling like wolves. You were pretty sure it wasn’t just competitive. Bucky would push a little too hard, like he was daring John to pin him. And John did— just a second too long, straddling Bucky’s hips before standing up too fast, like he suddenly remembered where he was.

In the field, too. One time, a mission went sideways, and Bucky took a hit meant for John— just a graze, but it was messy. And John, who rarely ever panicked, looked like the ground had dropped out from under him. He didn’t even realise he’d said Bucky’s name three times until Yelena touched his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. 

Then, Bob would complain after walking out of the locker room, telling you John and Bucky had stood side by side as they changed shirts. Apparently, according to Bob, neither looked, but their necks were tense like they were fighting not to.

The week after that, after a tough fight, John was bleeding from a cut along his ribs. You were too tired to play nurse, so Bucky offered. You watched him clean the wound with a gentleness that was only usually reserved for you. John didn’t flinch, he didn’t even look away. When Bucky finally stepped back, he said, “Should’ve been more careful.”

John, who usually scowled when Ava patched him up, answered quietly. “I know.”

Bucky didn’t answer.

One night, they both even showed up at your office for a little visit—separately, but close enough that the timing got awkward. You made up some excuse about being busy dismantling Yelena’s widow bites to send them both away. 

As they stood at the door, Bucky glanced at John. “New haircut?”

John blinked. “Yeah. You noticed?”

Bucky shrugged. “Suits you.”

John’s ears turned red. “Thanks.”

They didn’t make eye contact again before leaving.

That was the first time you really saw it. The… shape of it. It became too persistent to ignore.

Because the more you studied them, the more you started to understand.

Bucky had grown up in a time when you didn’t talk about attraction unless it was for a woman in a red dress. And John… John had that Southern-boy thing. That “yes sir, no sir, God bless America” kind of upbringing that didn’t leave a lot of room for nuance.

Neither of them had been homophobic, but there was shame woven into their bones. Silent, inherited shame, that you once felt yourself, woven so deeply they didn’t even recognise it. They didn’t know what to do with the tension, the quick glances, the way their bodies leaned toward each other before jerking back.

So they wrote it off, buried it.

But you saw it. Because you were sleeping with both of them. Because you knew how they kissed. How they touched. How they looked at each other the same way they looked at you. 

And sometimes… you caught yourself wondering, What if they kissed each other?

Would Bucky be gentle at first, like he didn’t trust it to be real? Would John go still before melting into it like he always did so desperately?

Would it change everything?

—

The week later, you watched above as the gear room buzzed with noise— velcro was ripping, gear shifting, metal clinking, and the buzz of fluorescent lights filled the room. 

Bucky and John were prepping side by side.

They moved like practicing dance— a precise, practiced choreography of compression shirts, tactical pants, holsters, buckles, and chest plates snapping into place. 

Bucky leaned forward to check his knives, his shoulder brushing John’s. 

John didn’t flinch or step away. Instead, he smirked the kind of smile that was either a challenge or a dare.

“You’re slow today, Grandpa,” he said, trying to sound casual, like he wasn’t paying too much attention. Like he hadn’t noticed the contact, but his eyes slid sideways, catching the line of Bucky’s jaw.

Bucky didn’t glance up. “You’re being too skittish. Rookie nerves?”

John chuckled. “Just don’t wanna carry your corpse out of another blown-up warehouse.”

That made Bucky pause. He turned, eyes sharp but not hostile. “You couldn’t lift me if you tried.”

John stepped in, barely an inch closer. “You want me to try?”

For a second, neither moved.

They stood there— inches apart, shoulders squared, as if they were two lions deciding whether to bite or bare their throats.

From the upper level of the gear bay, Ava walked in and settled beside you. 

“Jesus,” Ava whistled low at the sight of the two supersoldiers. “Either they’re about to punch each other, or they’re about to make out on the bench.”

You didn’t look away. “Honestly?” You sighed, “Either would make it so much easier on me.”

Ava turned her head cautiously. “What… did you do?”

You sighed again. “Them.”

She choked on her spit. “What?”

“Not at the same time,” you added quickly, raising both hands in surrender. “It just… happened.”

“Oh my god,” she breathed, laughing somewhere between horrified and impressed. “You actually did it. You overachiever.”

You shrugged helplessly, eyes drifting back to the scene below. 

John was brushing imaginary lint off Bucky’s chest now. Bucky swatted at his hand—but not really. Then adjusted a strap on John’s vest, muttering something that made John roll his eyes. But he didn’t move away, not even when Bucky tugged the strap tighter than necessary.

You tilted your head, frowning. “You ever think…”

Ava cut in. “That they might be bi? Uh, yeah. Look at them. They’re two seconds away from full Top Gun volleyball.”

You heard a voice behind you.

“Oh, those two?”

You turned to find Yelena approaching—completely unfazed, chewing a bubblegum. 

She shrugged. “Bob and I have a bet going on who’s gonna come out first. He thinks Walker. I say Barnes.”

You chuckled. 

Below, John reached over Bucky’s shoulder for a carabiner and absolutely did not need to drag the back of his hand across Bucky’s chest to do it. 

You crossed your arms tighter, heart thudding in your chest as you watched them move around each.

Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one tangled up between the lines.

—

The mission had been a goddamn mess— a high-risk information extraction in tight hallways with zero visibility and bodies coming from every direction. When they were done, getting out felt more like an escape than a strategy. Bucky’s shoulder was wrecked, John’s knuckles were split, raw, and bloodied. 

The flight back was quiet.

No banter or bickering— just the hum of adrenaline simmering beneath the surface. Now, back in the Tower, they sat in the locker room, stripping out of kevlar, breathing hard. 

John was the first to speak up.

“Christ,” he said. “I need to blow off some steam.”

Across from him, Bucky sat hunched forward on the bench, forearms resting on his knees, head bowed. His breathing had steadied, but his heart was ticking like a clock.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “Me too.”

John leaned back, swiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “What’s your method? Gym? Whiskey?”

Bucky’s head tilted slightly, and like a match had just been struck from behind his eyes. “I’ve got someone.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Someone?”

“Yeah.” Bucky didn’t volunteer any names or details, but his tone changed. It wasn’t cocky— but it was almost a private kind of smug satisfaction.

John’s brow furrowed. “In the Tower?”

Bucky gave a small nod. “Mhm.”

John’s posture shifted. He sat up straighter, body suddenly more alert than it had been during the mission. “Wait. Who?”

John ran through the options quickly, mentally eliminating names like a checklist. Not Ava—definitely a lesbian. Yelena’s ace. Mel was too young for either of them, and no one liked Val. Bucky was straight, right? Which left…

“No,” John said aloud, mostly to himself. “No fucking way.”

Bucky didn’t say a word and started wrapping his shoulder with compression tape.

John’s stomach dropped. His throat tightened. “…You’re not talking about—”

Bucky’s eyes lifted to meet his. “Why?” He arched a brow. “You got a guess?”

A part of John didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to know. But his brain was already lining up all the pieces. 

The look you gave Bucky after missions. The scratches he didn’t remember leaving that definitely weren’t left by human hands. The way Bucky looked at you sometimes—like he was starving and angry about it. In hindsight, it was obvious.

“I…” John cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of how his voice worked. “Yeah. I do.”

And then, he said your name.

Bucky didn’t deny it.

John stared at him—and for the first time, he saw the cuts, the bruises, the fact that he looked like he was safeguarding his own heart. 

“I…” John hesitated, “I am, too,” he finally choked out, barely audible.

There it was.

It all… clicked.

All of it. The missing hours. The bruises in the same spots. The way your voice always changed when you talked about “seeing someone else.” 

“Oh fuck,” Bucky sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re the other guy.”

John sighed, “You’re the other guy.”

They stared at each other. Both had trained for war, both had been through too much, but this kind of realisation was... different. 

Not because you lied; you hadn’t. You’d been honest from the beginning. You just never told them it was each other.

And now, they were too deep to pretend it didn’t matter. 

—

Your room was dim, bathed in the amber glow of the bedside salt lamp. Outside the Tower, the city glittered like spilled stars against the velvet in your room. You were in satin— shorts riding high, camisole slipping from one shoulder. 

You hadn’t dressed for anyone but yourself, yet somehow, you found yourself excited when someone knocked on your door.

Barefoot, you walked to the door of your quarters and opened it.

There they stood, both John and Bucky.

John’s eyes burned — wounded and questioning, but desperate not to show either. Bucky, flexed his metal wrist like he couldn’t decide whether to knock again or slam it into the wall.

“Well,” you breathed out, leaning against the doorframe, “either someone died… or you two finally figured it out.”

John brushed past you and entered without a word, while Bucky lingered a second longer, his eyes dragging over the line of your throat, the slope of your bare shoulder. before stepping in and closing the door.

“Make yourselves at home,” you said dryly, but your heartbeat was thundering beneath your skin.

You sank into the couch, letting your legs drape sideways. They didn’t sit.

They circled — not around you — but around each other.

“You should’ve told us,” John said. “Told me.”

“Told you what?” You tilted your head. “That I wasn’t exclusive? I did.”

“No,” Bucky interjected. “That we were both seeing you.”

“And if I had, what?” you arched a brow, “You would’ve compared notes? Flipped a coin?”

John’s lips tightened. “You could’ve said something.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t figure it out on your own,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

“I should’ve,” John snapped back. “You acted like you owned her.”

“And you weren’t?” Bucky scoffed. “Always marking your territory—”

“Don’t tell me how I—”

You cut in, too tired for this frankly pointless argument. “Is this really about me?” Your voice was more silent now. “Because it feels like you’re trying to fight each other through me.”

John stopped moving. Bucky’s shoulders dropped.

You leaned back, the satin pulling tighter over your thigh, and both their eyes flicked there instinctively, before snapping up with visible guilt. You sighed, resting your arms on the couch behind you.

“If it helps…” you said, treading carefully, “I think you might be into each other, too.”

The look they had behind their eyes was like dropping a match into oil.

“What the hell are you talking about?” John barked.

“No,” Bucky said at the same time. Not angry—terrified.

You tilted your head. “You fight like people who want to fuck or cry, maybe both. You get jealous like people who haven’t admitted how badly they want the other.”

They didn’t speak.

“I’ve had both of you,” you continued, voice intimate now. “I know how you touch. How you look when you want someone. How you breathe when you're holding yourself back. And I see it when you look at each other.”

Bucky looked away first. John opened his mouth before closing it again.

You leaned forward, now pulling the trigger with a statement. “You’re angry because you’re not sure which one of us you’re more jealous of.”

Just like that, they panicked and started talking over each other again, as if they just went into survival mode. “I’m not into guys—” “He’s not my type, at all—” “This is ridiculous—” “She’s deflecting—” “I’m straight—” “So am I!—”

You shifted, letting the silence take its course. The camisole slipped gently off one shoulder, and it pulled their eyes whether they wanted it to or not.

“Boys,” you sighed, barely above a whisper.

They froze. Their breathing slowed—almost in sync.

“I get it,” you continued. “It's confusing. But for fuck’s sake–  stop lying to yourselves.”

Just like that, you felt the air shift, like a fragile click in the clockwork.

Bucky looked at John. And John… blinked like a door opened inside him that he hadn’t even known was locked.

You watched it wash over them: realisation.

Bucky’s lips parted. John took half a step back like it physically knocked the wind from him.

John finally whispered it. “Oh, fuck.”

Bucky shook his head slowly, lips pressed together. “No,” he whispered, eyes wide. “No, no, no—”

But his voice had no conviction. 

You relaxed and patted the couch cushions next to you — two ends, just far enough apart to be safe.

“Sit,” you said gently, like coaxing frightened animals.

Neither moved at first, but they did, eventually. Acquiescence didn’t come easily — not with their pride, their confusion, their egos — but it came.

John dropped down, spine rigid but legs spread wide like he was still braced for a fight. His knuckles were white where they gripped his knees. Bucky sat slower, as if the cushions were barbed wire. His arms stayed crossed, metal fingers tapping restlessly against his bicep. You were still in the middle, legs folded one over the other, satin now higher on your thighs. 

“I know what it’s like,” you said, laying your heart bare, “That click in your head… when you realise. And you don’t know if it’s freedom or a fucking death sentence.”

John’s eyes dropped to the floor, then flicked to Bucky, then away again, teeth grinding like he was trying to swallow glass. Bucky didn’t move, he didn’t even blink— he just stared straight ahead, breathing through his nose like his chest might cave in.

“It’s not a weakness,” you reassured quietly. “It’s not shameful to want something you were always told you shouldn’t.”

The plates of Bucky’s fingers twitched. John’s shoulders hunched.

“And you know what?” you kept going, carefully. “It makes sense that you’re confused. John, you told me about church. About football locker rooms. About your dad.” You turned to Bucky slowly, putting a hand on both their thighs. “And you came from a world where even touching another man too long meant getting locked in a psych ward. Of course you’re scared.”

Bucky’s voice was quiet, but hoarse. “I thought… I didn’t…” He managed to choke out, “I didn’t know.”

“I… I still don’t know,” John admitted, looking down.

“It’s not greedy to want both,” you said. “Or all. Or neither. Or something in between. You don’t have to call it anything. You don’t have to label it today, or tomorrow. But you shouldn't have to lie to yourselves just because the world made it hard to tell the truth.”

Their faces had changed, not dramatically. But the tension was different now. They were less… rigid.

You looked at both of them in turn.

“If you’re bisexual, you’re bisexual. If you’re pan, you’re pan. If all you know right now is that you want him, or you want me, or maybe you want both and it terrifies you—that’s okay.”

You reached for both of their hands—John’s was calloused, Bucky’s was cold vibranium. Your fingers slid between theirs, and neither pulled away.

“You don’t owe anyone certainty, but you shouldn’t deny yourselves that curiosity,” you rubbed soothing circles on their knuckles, “I care about both of you. ’m not trying to push you into something you’re not ready for. But I… see you.”

Their breathing had synced up without meaning to. They were both looking at you, and for once, it was not with jealousy or accusation or distraction—but with… recognition.

“I want this to be okay,” Bucky said, almost a whisper.

“So do I,” John echoed.

“It is okay,” you whispered. “You just have to let it be.”

You leaned in then, not to kiss, not yet — but to rest your forehead lightly against Bucky’s temple, your other hand brushing John’s knuckles as he gripped your knee.

And still, neither of them pulled away from your touch.

That’s when you realised, you weren’t in between them. You were the bridge.

You could feel them both vibrating beside you with something just shy of frenzy, as if touching each other or you would send everything over the edge. You exhaled slowly, before tilting your head toward them.

“Can I test a theory?” you asked, voice too sweet to be true.

They both nodded, eyes locked on you like you’d hung the moon.

You turned to Bucky first, climbing into his lap with grace, knowing exactly how to break a man apart. He choked on his own breath when your knees bracketed his thighs and your weight settled against him. His hands, both metal and flesh, fluttered for a moment, unsure of where to land, before they found your hips. Your lips brushed his—just once, like a tease— before you kissed him properly. He opened to you like a man who’d been holding his breath for decades. Your fingers wound into his hair, tugging, and he groaned softly into your mouth.

John hadn’t moved. You could feel his eyes on you both — on the way Bucky held you, the way your hips rolled. You didn’t see a hint of jealousy, not even a single hint  of possessive rage.

Instead, your theory was proven right. 

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even tense. He was... flushed, breathless, and very, very turned on.

You grinned as you rode one more slow grind into Bucky’s lap—just enough to make his head fall back against the couch with a curse—and then looked over at John.

“C’mere,” you said, voice like a spark to dry kindling.

He came closer. God, did he.

You reached for him as he reached for you, and your lips met in a kiss that was all tongue and heat and frustration burned down into feral need. John’s hands tangled in your hair, tugging, framing your face as you leaned back against Bucky, trapped between them. You moaned into his mouth, felt Bucky’s grip on your waist tighten as he watched.

And Bucky didn’t hate it.

He should have. A week ago, he would’ve punched John for taking what was his.

But now, after listening to you talk through your experiences, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He loved the flush in John’s cheeks, the way your body writhed between them, the sight of his mouth on yours. He was transfixed. 

You pulled away from John, lips swollen, and looked between them—your two soldiers, your boys.

“I want you to try something,” you said carefully. You nudged gently between them, drawing them closer together. “Only if you want to.”

They hesitated, if only for a second. 

Then—almost in sync—they nodded.

And you watched as John turned to Bucky, watched as the uncertainty warred with curiosity in both of them. 

It started clumsy, just a brush of mouths— more uncertainty than contact.

But then they clicked.

Bucky’s hand came up to cradle John’s neck. John leaned in. The kiss deepened, it became urgent. Mouths opening, tongues sliding together, a shared breath between them. A shocked noise escaped one of them—you couldn’t tell who.

You slid off Bucky’s lap, legs folding under you as you perched on the coffee table in front of them, watching them kiss like they were unraveling everything they thought they knew about themselves. 

When they finally broke apart, it was almost… unwilling.

“What,” John blinked, dazed, “The fuck.”

Bucky was still touching his neck, his thumb rubbing slow circles. “I… liked that.”

You leaned in slowly, a smile curling at your lips as your mouth brushed Bucky’s ear, then John’s.

“Atta boys,” you whispered. “Told you. Nothing wrong with this.”

Your hands slid lightly across their thighs— just enough to make their breaths hitch again.

“Now,” you murmured, eyes dark. “I think it’s time we all blow off some steam.”

Their hands moved at the same time. One flesh, one metal. Both hungry, both learning how to be unafraid. They met midair, just inches from your thighs.

John’s calloused palm grazed Bucky’s vibranium knuckles, and both of them flinched like the contact had short-circuited their programming.

Then, you leaned back onto your hands on the table, satin parting at your thighs, fabric slipping open like a curtain revealing a show. Your legs shifted slightly apart as an invitation. As an anchor.

“Touch me together,” you whispered. “No one’s losing. You’re both here with me. With each other.”

You guided them up — gently threading your fingers through theirs, dragging their hands together up your thigh. You felt the tremble in both of them.

“Still scared?” you asked.

They nodded.

“Still want this?”

They answered in two voices, almost overlapping “Yeah.”

You dragged them both closer, until Bucky’s mouth was at your throat, his tongue tracing the beat of your pulse. John kissed your jaw like he wanted to bury every doubt he’d ever had.

You didn’t try to split the attention, and you didn't need to.

They were learning how to exist together. 

You caught Bucky’s hand and placed it flat against John’s chest, just over his heart.

“Feel that?” you told him. “He’s not the enemy.”

John’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move away. His fingers hovered, then wrapped slowly over Bucky’s wrist, holding him there. 

And then… without any direction from you, they… kissed again.

You watched, heat pooling low in your belly.

“Look at you,” you praised, almost reverent. “Figuring it out.”

John broke the kiss first, breathless. “I kissed a guy,” he whispered, like it hadn’t really hit him until just then.

“And you liked it,” Bucky said, almost amused.

You slid into John’s lap, letting your legs straddle him as you reached for Bucky, curling your fingers into the waistband of his jeans to pull him closer. The three of you tangled—hands on skin, mouths finding mouths, exploring, relearning what wanting felt like when it wasn’t laced with shame.

You tugged your top over your head. You were bare from the waist up, and their eyes followed, even as you helped them out of their clothes.

“I’ve got you,” you reassured, almost affectionately. “Both of you. Let go.”

And they did.

—

Hours later, the room was wrecked.

Sheets were half-hanging from the mattress. Your pajama shorts were slung over a lamp. Bucky’s dog tags tangled in the headboard, and John’s shirt was on the other side of the room. The air still smelled like skin and sweat and sex.

You were curled between them, blissed out, your limbs a lazy sprawl of post-chaos satisfaction. Bucky’s arm was draped over your waist like he’d claimed the space and wasn’t letting go. John lay on the other side, hands behind his head like a man pretending this wasn’t the first time he’d shared a bed with someone he couldn’t label.

“Well,” John finally said, clearing his throat, “that was… something.”

Bucky snorted without opening his eyes. “That’s your takeaway? ‘Something’? Jesus, Walker.”

John turned his head to glare at him, cheeks flushed. “Sorry, didn’t realise we were supposed to be doing slam poetry after an orgy.”

“It’s a threesome, technically,” Bucky corrected, just out of spite.

John rolled his eyes. “You’re technically so annoying for someone so hot.”

You made an amused sound between them, stretching with feline satisfaction. Your fingers traced a lazy line up Bucky’s chest, then reached across your stomach to trace the veins on John’s arm.

“You’re both very chatty for two people who just had their minds blown,” you said, lips quirked up.

John rubbed his face, groaning into his hands. “Yeah, well, I’m trying really hard not to overthink the fact that I—” He gestured vaguely, as if the admission physically hurt. “—liked it.”

Bucky cracked one eye open. “Define ‘it.’”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t. Be specific.”

John sighed dramatically, like a teenager admitting he cried during Toy Story. “You,” He choked out. “Okay? You.”

Bucky tilted his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it didn't look smug. A little touched, maybe. “You’re actually gonna say it out loud.”

John rolled his eyes. “You fucked me too, Barnes. Don’t act like you didn’t make that noise when—”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky cut in, holding up a hand. “Let’s not do a play-by-play.”

You bit your lip, half-laughing, half-listening — but you saw it. The edge under the jokes. The old fear, the years of conditioning.

So you pushed up on one elbow and reached for them both. 

John closed his eyes. “I do. Like you. And…” He opened his eyes just to look at Bucky. “Him too, apparently.”

Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you… ever wonder,” he said, tentatively, like he was stepping into an old wound, “what it would’ve been like if we’d been allowed to figure this out sooner?”

John could only nod. “Maybe,” he started, “I wouldn’t have been so hard on myself.”

“You’re here now,” you whispered. “You’ve got time, and…” you paused to press soft kisses to each of their shoulders, before settling back against the pillows with a content hum.  “You’re both mine. And maybe… just a little bit each other’s too.”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “We should be terrified.”

“I am” John said, already half-asleep. “But I don’t wanna run from it.”

Neither did Bucky.

Neither did you.

And as sleep pulled you all under, John mumbled one last thing, almost inaudible, “Still think I’m a better kisser.”

Bucky, slurring now, breathed out, “Debatable.”

—-

You did not wake up all at once.

The sun was too bright over the curtains. Someone’s – probably Bucky’s— thigh was over your legs. And there was definitely an elbow — probably John’s — wedged in the small of your back.

You shifted slowly, careful not to disturb the fragile peace.

Bucky made a quiet, muffled sound into the pillow and curled in closer, hair a mess across his cheek. John just groaned and rolled the other way, nearly falling off the bed, dreamily saying something about "needin’ a chiropractor" and "why do you bite."

Oh, he needed a chiropractor? Funny. Last time you checked, you were the only non-supersoldier here.

Not that you were complaining.

You cracked an eye open and saw your pajama top on the floor a couple feet away. Bucky’s henley was closer. That would do.

You dragged yourself from the tangle of limbs, tugging the henley over your head. It smelled like him — clean, metal and cedar. You walked quietly to the door, only grabbing an old mug on your way out.

The hallway was cold.

The common room, thank fuck, was not.

Bucky wandered in a minute after you, hair tied back with a rubber band he’d found on the doorknob, wearing John’s grey sweatpants. John followed a few seconds later, in Bucky’s boxers and your fluffy pink slippers — clearly stolen in desperation.

You raised an eyebrow.

He blinked at you. “What?”

“Slippers.”

“They were closer than my self-respect.”

Fair.

Bucky glanced down at the sweats and sniffed as he sat down on the couch. “Why do your sweatpants smell like an Axe spray bomb?”

John rolled his eyes and gestured at his current outfit. “Why do your boxers ride up my ass?”

From the armchair in the corner, Bob looked up from his Sudoku book and smiled. “Oh! You all learned how to share,” he exclaimed, “That’s nice.”

John jumped, none of you realising that he was even there in the first place.

Bucky coughed into his cup of water like he’d swallowed a fork.

You dropped onto the couch beside them with the blankest face you could manage. “Morning, Bob.”

Bob tilted his head. “So, you had a sleepover?”

“We had a revelation,” Bucky said dryly. John, who was sitting in between you and Bucky now, nudged his metal arm. “We had a lot of things.”

You kicked him lightly under the coffee table. He didn’t even flinch. He was too tired, too exhausted in all the best ways.

Bob leaned forward with a curious sparkle in his eyes. “Is it because you’re all dating now? Or… dating-adjacent? dating-ish.”

You chuckled. “You’re weirdly chill about this.”

Bob beamed. “I watched a lot of Bojack Horseman in recovery. I learned… a lot from that show.” He shrugged before giving John a proud thumbs-up. “Proud of you, buddy.”

You snorted into your coffee, while John managed a half-hearted salute, pink slippers dangling off his toes.

Then, you heard a SLAM.

The door burst open.

Alexei stormed in wearing the same shirt as last night — his hair rumpled with bloodshot eyes.

“I could not sleep,” he declared flatly. “Your room is next to mine. Next. To. Mine.”

Bucky lowered his mug. John looked like he was calculating if the toaster could double as a coffin.

Alexei’s eyes were cold and full of fury. “You screamed,” he said to Bucky. “Like we were under nuclear threat. I prepared go-bag before I realised it was sex.”

Bucky’s ears turned pink. “I...Sorry?”

“And Walker!” Alexei turned his glare to John. “You sounded like angry raccoon!”

John shuffled your slippers in shame.

“Do not even get me started on you!” he pointed at you, “I thought it was bad with one of them. I was wrong. Both is worse.” Alexei grabbed a mug of coffee like it was vodka, slammed it back like a shot, and let out a deep breath. “You all are lucky I support the gay,” he said. “But next time maybe do not explore your sexuality like… freight train.”

Bucky sank down on the couch. “We should really get Alexei noise-canceling headphones.”

You stood, grabbed a glass of water, and handed it to him. “Sorry, old man,” you winced, “I’ll upgrade the armouring on your suit, if that makes up for it?”

Alexei sighed, hand to his heart, and looked to the ceiling. “This is my penance. For being terrible father in past. I accept it.”

You all laughed — Bucky with a breathy chuckle, John with a wheezing groan, even Bob with a little grin that warmed up the whole room.

You leaned over, kissing Both John and Bucky temples as Bucky tugged the waistband of the boxers John was wearing — his own, technically — and pulled him closer. 

John mumbled into Bucky’s shoulders. “Guess we’re doing this.”

Bucky nodded, pouting playfully as he pulled you back on the couch. “Guess so.”

Bob, watching the three of you squished into one couch cushion, just sipped his tea with a sigh of exaggerated patience.

“Well,” he said, glancing back at his Sudoku, “at least it’s good for team bonding.”

—

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[tikkafreespirit]

exit wounds 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, choking, hairpulling, rough sex, degradation, overstimulation, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, possessiveness, dom!bucky, angst

summary: after you put yourself in danger once again during a mission, bucky finally snaps.

word count: 3.2k

author's note: hello my loves, i hope you enjoy this fic! also, i am currently looking through all the requests i've received and am excited to say i got started on a few! so please, keep sending them, fresh ideas always helps me write better! love you guys and please stay safe out there!

want him so badly

The storm broke before the mission did.

Rain pelted the shattered rooftops, thunder cracked above as you darted through the ruined alleyways of Bucharest, your pulse hammering in your ears. The objective was simple, get in, extract the intel, get out.

“Left. Take the left,” Bucky’s voice crackled through your comms, taut with command.

“I see the target,” you shot back, breathless. “I’m going in.”

“You go in alone, and I swear to god—”

You cut the line.

Not because you were being reckless. You knew what you were doing. You had spent hours upon hours studying the building’s layout, the guards’ rotations, and the window of opportunity that was already closing.

You didn’t need him barking orders in your ear. And you especially didn’t need your boyfriend second-guessing you when you were this close to securing the objective.

But then, behind you—boots pounded on wet concrete, close, fast, and furious.

“Fuck—(y/n)!”

Too late.

The intel was secured. The flash drive sat warm in the lining of your suit, pressed against your sternum. On paper, the mission was a success.

But the cost?

Three injured agents. A building engulfed in fire. And Bucky’s silence on the jet ride towards the nearest safehouse, the tension was thick enough to choke on. He hadn’t looked at you once.

Not when you handed Val the drive. Not when she nodded coolly and dismissed you without a word of praise. Not when the soft hydraulic hiss of the safehouse doors opened and when the rest of the team shuffled in like ghosts.

Now it was just the two of you. The others had scattered quietly, retreating to their temporary rooms for the night. The rain still dripped from your suit's collar, blood clung dry beneath your fingernails, and the silence between you and Bucky pulsed like a second heartbeat.

You peeled your damp tactical vest from your shoulders and tossed it onto the table. Every breath you took felt too loud in the stillness. Your skin was still buzzed with leftover adrenaline and heat, you didn't know if it was from the mission of the confrontation you knew was about to come.

You heard the final set of footsteps retreat, then the soft click of the outer door.

Still, you didn’t turn around.

“I had it,” you said calmly, your voice flat but controlled. “You didn’t need to come after me.”

He didn’t respond at first.

But you could feel him. The tension radiated off him like heat off an engine block. You didn’t need to look to know his jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. You could already feel his glare burning through your back almost as if it was trying to set you aflame.

You met his eyes—cerulean, but sharper than usual. Tense. Controlled.

“I got the drive, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the fucking point,” he snapped, the steel in his voice sharp now. “Three agents could’ve died (y/n). You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t,” you bit out. “And I wasn’t going to.”

His mouth twisted, his chest heaving once before he spoke again, voice splintering. “You think I give a shit about your stats? Your little field heroics?” His voice cracked then, just slightly.

“You think I want to scrape you off the concrete one day just because you were too stubborn to follow the damn protocol?”

You barked a bitter laugh. "Funny. You’ve been quiet up until now.”

He moved fast.

One moment, he was across the room. The next, he was inches from you, towering, taut with anger, fist clenched so tight you could see the veins straining in his forearm.

“You wanna say that again?” he asked, low and dangerous.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to flinch. “I said—”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply. “Don’t test me tonight.”

“Why not?” you hissed. “You’ve been dying to explode since we landed Bucky. Go ahead. Yell. Blame me. Do what you always do when you don’t get your damn way—”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t move.

He just looked at you. And somehow, that was worse.

The silence that followed crackled with heat. His jaw tensed, eyes burning into yours like he was holding back with everything he had.

Then, slow and deliberate, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His body radiated heat, tension rolling off him in waves.

“You think this is about me?” he whispered, dangerously quiet now.

“You think I give a fuck if I look bad in the debrief? I don’t care about orders, (y/n). I care about you. And you made the call without backup, without thinking. Again."

“I knew what I was doing,” you murmured, but it came out thinner now.

“And if you were wrong?” he snapped. His breath hit your cheek—damp, hot, ragged. “If I hadn’t gone in after you?”

You couldn’t answer. Because you didn’t know.

And suddenly the room felt too small. Too close. Your heart pounded against your ribs like it wanted out.

He was so close you could smell the rain still clinging to his skin, see the soaked-through fabric of his black shirt clinging to every line of muscle. His hair was still damp, curling around his jaw as his chest rose and fell with heavy, measured breaths.

He looked frayed at the edges, barely holding it together, and burning with fury.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said, voice rough. “You think I care about the mission? You think I care about what Val thinks?”

Your breath hitched.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered. “I was just… I needed to prove I could handle it.”

He took another step forward. “To who?”

You blinked.

“To Val? The team?” He shook his head, eyes narrowing. “Or to me?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Your silence said enough.

Bucky’s hand came up, not fast, not aggressive, but deliberate. It hovered near your jaw, then gently ghosted along the column of your throat. Two fingers settled over your pulse, barely there. Feeling it. Reading you.

“You think I don’t see you?” he murmured. “Think I don’t know what you’re trying to prove every time you run headfirst into danger like you have nothing to lose?”

“You don’t have to be reckless to be worthy of standing next to me,” he said, and something broke in his voice then. Softer. Almost broken. “You already are.”

Your breath stuttered.

You hadn’t meant to move. You hadn’t even noticed your body leaning forward until your chest brushed his. Until you felt the ragged breath he caught against your cheek, until your eyes met his, and everything stopped.

He looked at you like he was drowning in everything he hadn’t said, rage, fear, hunger, all of it right there in his eyes, barely held back.

His thumb brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up. His touch was light, barely there, but it felt like the only thing tethering you to the ground.

“You keep pushing me,” he said, voice low and quiet, the kind of quiet that carried weight.

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Always testing. Always toeing the line.”

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, pulse fluttering beneath your skin. A slow ache bloomed between your thighs, the kind that only got worse when you held his gaze.

“And what if I’m doing it on purpose?” you murmured. “What if I want you to snap?”

Something shifted behind his gaze, a flicker of heat barely restrained, and the air between you crackled like a live wire. His jaw flexed, his body unmoving, and then, the corner of his mouth lifted. Slow, measured, anything but kind.

“You really want to see what happens when I do?” he gritted out

“Maybe I like seeing how far I can push you.”

You didn’t get a second to breathe.

His hand clamped around your throat, not hard enough to cut off your air, but firm enough to remind you who was in control as he shoved you backward.

You stumbled, caught off guard, and then—without warning, he turned you. One arm braced across your shoulders, the other sliding between your thighs. You barely had time to gasp before he was behind you, chest flush to your back, hips grinding into your ass.

His body pinned you in place, unforgiving and close, and suddenly there was no space, no air, nothing except the burn of him against you and the way your body reacted, fast, instinctive and shameless.

“You want to push me?” Bucky snarled, the words like gravel dragged through his teeth. “Then take it. Don’t you fucking run from it now.”

Your pulse throbbed wildly beneath his fingers. He felt it—you knew he did—because he smiled against your neck. It wasn’t kind. It was the smile of a man barely containing the storm underneath, teeth bared like a wolf on a leash.

You tried to turn your head, to spit something sharp, something defiant, but his metal hand was there in an instant, pinning your cheek to the wall with a ruthless kind of tenderness. Cold vibranium fingers spread across your jaw, holding you still like he was lining up a shot.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to,” he growled. “You don’t get to talk back. Not after the fucking stunt you pulled.”

Then—he tore your suit open.

The front zipper split with a vicious rip, teeth dragging down your sternum, and then the fabric was shoved roughly off your shoulders. Your bra came into view, your skin prickling in the open air, exposed and vulnerable and throbbing with anticipation.

He didn’t hesitate.

His mouth latched onto the side of your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, and your body reacted instantly, arching toward him, heat coiling low in your belly, wetness pooling between your thighs before you could even think to stop it.

It was humiliating how fast he had you soaked.

“Fucking wet,” he hissed, voice sharp with satisfaction. His flesh hand slid down the front of your suit. Two fingers pressed through your panties and straight into your slit, finding you hot, drenched and needy. “You’re dripping, sweetheart. All that mouth and you still want me this bad?”

You moaned—shameless, high-pitched and he growled like it offended him.

“Pathetic.”

Your suit hit the ground in a heap, shoved down carelessly around your boots. He didn’t bother to strip you completely, he didn’t need to. He just yanked them down far enough to spread your thighs apart, leaving you open, exposed, and trembling.

Then you heard it—the heavy clink of his belt, the hiss of his zipper. Your body jolted at the sound.

“Look at you,” he muttered, low and mean. “Begging to be fucked like a slut after risking your life like a dumb little brat.” The words hit you hard and god, they made your pussy throb.

You clenched around nothing, slick dripping down your thighs, and the worst part was how much you loved it. How much you needed more, needed him.

Your breath stuttered, your hips tilting back instinctively, shameless in how fast you were unraveling for him. You didn’t care what he called you. As long as he didn’t stop. As long as he fucked you like he meant every filthy word.

He pumped his cock once—twice—right behind you. You could feel it already, flushed and hard and heavy, the tip brushing the curve of your ass as he lined himself up.

“You wanted this,” Bucky rasped, voice dragging low and dark. “You pushed me on purpose. You knew exactly what would happen.”

You whimpered, cheeks burning.

And then he laughed, low and cruel and knowing.

“You like it when I’m like this, don’t you?”

His cock dragged through your folds—slick with your arousal, bumping your clit before dipping lower, teasing your entrance with maddening pressure. You nearly sobbed.

“Y-yes… I like it,” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your thighs trembled. “I wanted it. I wanted this. W-wanted you like this.”

He slammed into you.

You cry out, the stretch splitting you wide open in one unrelenting thrust. No warning. No mercy. Your nails scraped against the wall as your body spasmed around him, pussy clenching instinctively around the thick length now buried to the hilt.

“Oh my fucking—”

He slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Be quiet,” he gritted out, breath hot on your ear. “They’ll hear you.”

You moaned into his palm, the sound muffled and desperate, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as he began to move—long, deep thrusts that rocked your entire body.

Each snap of his hips sent you forward, your chest jolting against the cold wall with every brutal push. Your legs shook beneath you, barely able to hold you up under the weight of him, his rhythm, his heat, the relentless way he claimed every inch of your body.

His cock hit every spot inside you—deep, relentless, perfect in its punishment. Each thrust drove you harder into the wall, your palms flattened against the cold surface, fingers splayed like you were holding on for dear life.

The air was thick with the sound of slick skin and broken moans, the wet slap of him pounding into you again and again until all you could do was whimper, body shaking, needing more.

He was ruthless.

“You feel that?” he grunted, fucking into you harder. “You feel how deep I am? Fuck, princess, your pussy’s squeezing me.”

You nodded, eyes rolling back. Everything was too much. Not enough.

He grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, lips brushing your ear.

“You gonna come already? Just from this? From getting fucked like you’re made for it?”

You tried to speak, tried to form a word, a plea, anything but your mouth refused to work. All that came out was a desperate, broken moan, choked off by the force of him inside you.

Every muscle in your body was strung tight, overwhelmed, aching, begging for release, but all you could do was let the sound of your need echo in the space between you, raw and strung out and wordless.

He let go of your mouth and slapped your ass—hard.

“Say it,” he snarled. “Tell me how badly you want to come.”

“I, god—I need it,” you choked. “Please, need your cock, need you to—”

He pulled out. Completely.

You cry, voice raw with frustration.

Bucky laughed, voice thick with dominance.

“Look at you. Falling apart already. And I haven’t even gotten started.”

Before you could respond, he seized your wrists and twisted them behind your back, pinning them there easily with his hand. The cool press of vibranium against your skin made your breath hitch, your chest rising in shallow gasps.

You barely had time to brace yourself before he drove back into you—harder, deeper, with a force that knocked a strangled sound from your throat and sent sparks ricocheting through your core.

Your body jolted. Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. His flesh hand wrapped around your waist, fingers finding your clit again—rubbing tight, relentless circles in time with each brutal thrust.

You were unravelling, your legs burned and your body trembled. You were a babbling, incoherent mess as your orgasm built again—rising like a fucking tsunami.

“Don’t you dare come,” he growled. You tried. Fuck, you tried.

But he was everywhere—his cock driving into that sweet spot deep inside you with ruthless precision, his fingers working your clit in tight, relentless circles that had you trembling. His voice, low and filthy, poured into your ear like sin itself, each word pushing you closer to the edge.

“Say it,” he rasped. “Say who owns you.”

You sobbed.

“You do, Bucky! You do—”

“Good fucking girl.”

And then he snapped his hips again, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your throat.

You came with a strangled cry, body seizing as pleasure tore through you like a live wire. Your cunt clenched around him in tight, desperate pulses, milking every inch as wetness spilled down your thighs, slicking his cock and coating both of you in heat and ruin.

You slumped forward, forehead pressed to the wall, barely able to hold yourself upright as your orgasm wracked through you.

But he didn’t stop, he kept going—kept fucking you through it like he was trying to brand you from the inside out.

You sobbed, body trembling uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” he snarled. “Take it. Cry if you want princess, I’m not stopping.”

Your knees gave out, barely holding you upright and then the second wave hit. He slammed into you hard, tearing through your body before you had a chance to catch your breath.

You clenched around him again, tighter this time, a cry ripping from your throat as you came all over his cock. Everything blurred, your vision, your thoughts, until all that was left was the sharp pulse of pleasure and the rough sound of him still moving behind you.

“Gonna fill you up,” he muttered, pounding into you with short, broken thrusts. “Stuff you full, just like you deserve. Let it drip down those pretty thighs. Let everyone see who fucked you like this.”

He groaned—loud, rough—and then shuddered, cock twitching as he spilled inside you. You felt the warmth of it, the pulse of his release, the way his entire body seemed to collapse into yours.

The only sound was your wrecked breathing, the whine of your body, and the soft drip of his cum sliding down your thighs.

You were trembling, undone in every possible way—mind blank, body limp, pleasure still echoing through your nerves. Your knees wouldn’t hold you, but he didn’t let you fall. His arms were around you instantly, strong and steady, pulling you into his chest like he could anchor you there, like he needed to.

His breathing was still ragged, chest rising and falling against your back. His lips pressed to your temple, slow and soft, and you felt the way he lingered, like he was grounding himself, too.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, barely able to speak. Tears still clung to your lashes, not from pain, not even from the intensity, but from the overwhelming ache in your chest.

He kissed your temple again. Then your jaw. Then the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” he murmured.

You blinked, surprised by the tremble in his voice. He wasn’t angry. Not now.

“I can’t—” he swallowed, brow pressed to yours. “I know you’re capable, I know you’re smart. But I can’t watch you walk into something like that again.”

Your throat tightened.

“I thought I could handle it,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “No. No more of that. If something happened to you out there—”

He cut himself off. Pulled you closer. One hand cradled the back of your head. The other still wrapped around your waist, like he was afraid you would slip through his fingers.

“You don’t get to scare the shit out of me like that,” he rasped, voice cracking. “I’ve lost so much—and, fuck, I can’t lose you too.”

He looked away, just for a second, like the words hurt to say.

“I wouldn’t survive it.”

You nuzzled into his chest, heart hammering. His scent, his warmth, the rasp of his voice in your ear, it was all too much and not enough.

“I’m sorry,” you said, small and hoarse.

Bucky didn’t say anything right away. He just held you tighter, kissed the top of your head.

“I know”

requests are open!

[tikkafreespirit]

Your Time Starts Now

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes / Stucky x reader

Summary: Game night gets a steamy twist when you challenge Steve and Bucky to a private Taskmaster-style competition— with one very intimate goal. One task. One attempt each. Fastest climax wins. But let’s just say both super soldiers are… very motivated to take home the prize.

Expect filthy creativity, intense focus, and a lot of mutual worship— because when these two play, they play to win.

Who finishes fastest? Who makes you scream? Who ends up on their knees? You’ll just have to read and find out!

Genre: stablished relationship | Domestic fluff turned smutfest

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Oral sex (f. receiving), Use of sex toys (wand vibrator, mentions of gag, cuffs, spreader bar), Thigh riding, Praise kink, Rough sex elements / dominance (esp. Bucky), Soft dom vibes (Steve), MFM dynamics / implied future threesome, Jealousy and competition kink, Consensual power exchange, Minor spanking/bruising mentions, Language (dirty talk, filthy language throughout), Light voyeurism / reader watching Bucky + Steve at the end, Humor and banter laced with smut.

Word Count: ~4.5k

A/N: Biggest shoutout to @navybrat817 and @probablybucky for looking this over and your suggestions!

You were sprawled across the couch, remote resting in your hand, eyes still on the TV as the theme tune of Taskmaster played with the credit roll. A sly grin slowly crept across your face.

“Okay,” you announced, sitting up a little straighter. “So, hear me out.”

Steve glanced up from the book resting on his knee. Bucky shifted on the other end of the couch, his feet were tangled with yours and the bottle of beer was now tilting dangerously in his grip.

“That’s never a good start,” Bucky muttered, glancing over at Steve.

You ignored him. “So we’ve been watching Taskmaster, right? And it got me thinking... what if we did our own version? Just for fun. One task. Winner gets…” You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smirk. “...a special favor.”

Steve squinted at you, a suspicious look on his face. “What kind of task?”

You bit your lip again but you couldn't hold back a grin, your eyes gleaming. “Can’t tell you.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why not?”

“Because that would ruin the challenge. You’ll each do it separately— one at a time. I’ll give you the task when it’s your turn. No advance prep, no watching each other, no comparing notes.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. ���This is not what I thought you meant when you said ‘game night.’”

You grinned wider. “You’ll go one at a time. The other person has to stay out of earshot so no one cheats or gets inspired. It’ll be fair. Objective. Very official. Stopwatch and everything.”

Bucky leaned forward, eyes narrowed like he was trying to read your mind. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I am,” you admitted, a smug smile on your face. “Now. Who wants to go first?”

Steve

You led Steve into the bedroom, wearing a rather conservative robe. He had no idea that you were totally naked underneath. You closed the door behind you. He was clearly a little nervous, not because he doubted himself but because he always took everything so damn seriously. That focused crease between his brows said it all.

You’d gone all out for the occasion— picked out proper stationary, folded the card just right, sealed the envelope with a red wax stamp that was worthy of little Alex Horne. Steve deserved the full Taskmaster experience, after all.

He sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing the envelope with wary amusement. It was placed on a satin cushion ready for opening.

He raised a brow. “You really committed to this, huh?”

“Read it out loud,” you advised, stepping back to watch.

Steve broke the seal carefully— of course he would— and unfolded the heavy paper with a reverence usually reserved for mission briefings. His eyes skimmed the page, and you saw the exact moment it hit him. He looked up at you and you saw a flicker of heat behind that all-American composure.

You arched a brow. “Out loud, Rogers.”

He cleared his throat, voice steady but already warming. “Make your girl climax. You have one attempt only. Fastest wins.” He paused. Then, with a tiny, crooked smile: “Your time starts now.”

You barely had time to set the stopwatch.

Because Steve— your Captain freaking America— rose like this was sacred duty, and you were the nation in need.

He had a focused look on his face, that determined crease between his brows, like he was cataloguing every sound and shift you made. He knew how to read your body like a map that he had memorized and still revered.

He walked you back towards the bed, a man on a mission. His shoulders were squared and jaw set. His eyes were locked on yours with that quiet unshakeable intensity he had always had. Like you were everything to him. 

He didn't move immediately, watching you, soaking in your essence. Then, he took a step forward until he was pressed against you and he spoke. Low and measured. “Is this okay?”

You know he knew the answer. But he asked anyway because that was who Steve was. Even here— even now— he sought your permission like being with you was a privilege, not a right.

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yeah.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, a flicker of a smile touching his lips. As though your trust was the greatest gift he had ever been given.

Oh so slowly, he knelt down in front of you, his large hands slowly sliding up your calves, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your skin in wide, adoring strokes. His touch was warm and steady, it wasn't possessive, it was protective. It was one of the things he did that turned you on and he knew it. He touched every inch of you to remind you that you were safe. That you were cherished.

“Sit on the bed, darling.”

He coaxed your legs apart with a gentle insistence, sweeping away your silky robe without his hands never leaving you, his eyes still locked on yours. When he looked down, it was only to watch his own progress— to admire the way your body responds to him.

Steve had a quiet confidence. He knew what you responded to and he knew that if he was calm and consistent, he would have you coming in record time.

His palms skimmed up your thighs, and he made a quiet, appreciative sound in the back of his throat. Not because he’s thinking about what he’s going to do to you— but because he was in awe. Of you. Of this. Always.

His fingers dipped inward, tracing the lines on the inside of your knees, before gliding up with excruciating patience, like he was learning you all over again.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he breathed.

His lips followed the trail his hands had made— soft, peppered kisses along the inside of your thigh, before going up again. He lingered in places people normally didn't, mapping you with his mouth like he was savoring every taste, every touch. He nuzzled closer, his breath warm, but he still hadn’t touched where your body ached for him most.

He pressed a kiss to the soft curve where your thigh met your hip. And another. Then one more. His nose brushed your skin and he inhaled deeply before letting out a slow breath. Almost like he was grounding himself.

“Everything about you,” he murmured, “your skin, your scent, the way you breathe when I get close… I could do this all day.”

He glanced up at you as you moaned, his gaze steady and pupils blown. “Will you let me?”

And God yes, you would. You’d let him do anything, especially when he looked at you like that. Like you’re not just a lover. Like you were his to treasure.

You shivered under the weight of it— of his touch, his words, his gaze— and your body ached with anticipation. Not because he’s rushing you toward release, but because you already felt like you were falling apart by how seen he was making you feel.

He leaned closer, that dangerous gleam in his brilliant blue eyes. And you braced yourself for it— for that first stroke of his tongue— but instead, he spoke.

“Oh darling, look at you. Trembling already.” His voice was low and woven with the kind of pride that made your chest tighten and your pussy leak. “That’s good… so good. Means you want this. Means you trust me.”

It wasn't cocky. It wasn't him teasing. It was reverent. Grateful.

You gasped when his tongue finally grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. But it still wasn't quite where you needed him. But it was close enough to make you whimper. He hummed softly at the sound from your mouth, his lips curling up against your skin.

One hand came up to cup the back of your knee, urging you to open wider. And you did as you were asked. Utterly helpless under his touch.

His other hand glided upward, slow and certain, grazing along your waist, under the sash of your robe, then up over the swell of your breast. The Captain didn't grab, didn't squeeze. He held you. A firm, grounding touch that rested over your ribs, right where your heart was pounding its hardest.

Just as you were revelling in the feel of his calloused touch, he kissed you— right there— the loving press of his lips.

Once. Twice.

“That’s it,” he murmured between kisses. “Sweet girl. So good for me.”

Your hips twitched. It was instinctive, and he chuckled against you— not mockingly, but tender, like he loved that you couldn’t help it. That your body answered to him before your mind could catch up.

“Stevie,” you mumbled, softly encouraging.

He started to build a rhythm with his tongue, slow and sure. Each thick stroke was deliberate. Each pause intentional. He didn’t race toward the end. He savored you. Like you were his only focus in the whole world. Like he wanted to commit this to memory.

His hand on your hip tightened— not to pin you down, but to anchor you. To keep you from drifting too far from the pleasure swelling inside you. And he kept talking. Kept your focus on him. On his actions. On the building pleasure 

“You taste like heaven, darling.”

You whimpered and your thighs started to tremble as his tongue delved between your folds and found your clit.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice vibrating with adoration against your dropping cunt, “already so wet. You’re making this too easy, darling.”

He pressed his mouth harder against you, tongue flicking your sensitive clit in just the right way, and your back arched off the bed in response. And his praise didn't stop there. In fact, your moans just goaded him further.

“You’re doing so well. Can you take a little more?”

You nodded frantically, words lost to the pressure building deep in your core.

Then, finally — fucking finally— he slid a finger inside you. Just one. Just enough. It was slow and smooth, unhurried— he played your body like he had it memorized, and when he hit the note that made your breath hitch, he made a low sound in his throat. A pleased little groan, like your pleasure was the best thing he had ever felt. Another finger slid in.

“That’s it,” he whispers, curling his finger just right. “That’s perfect. Let me take care of you.”

Your breathing turns ragged. Your hips shifted to meet him, seeking more, and he gave it, without hesitation. Another stroke of his tongue, rougher now. Firmer. In sync with the rhythm of his hand. The coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until you were right on the edge, trembling under his mouth, your hands fisting the sheets.

And he felt it— knew exactly what you needed.

One more deliberate flick of his tongue. One more gentle thrust of his fingers. One more whispered command that unraveled you completely.

“Let go for me. Come on, sweetheart. Let me see you fall apart.”

And you did. With his name on your lips, your body arched into him, splintering around the crest of that overwhelming wave. He didn’t stop— not until he’d felt every last tremor, until you were wrung out and breathless, and still gasping his name like a prayer.

Then, and only then, did he ease off— slow and careful, like he was afraid to let go too soon. He kissed the inside of your thigh again, murmuring something soft you couldn’t quite hear, and rested his forehead against your flesh. 

“You did so good, darling. So damn good. But stop that clock, will ya?”

Bucky

You handed him the envelope without a word, just like you had with Steve. Same sexy robe. Same setting. Same rules. Fresh panties.

But Bucky was different. He took the task from you with a knowing little grin, his metal fingers brushing yours. “What’s this, sweetheart?” he asked innocently, already tearing the flap with those quick, clever hands. Then he read it aloud in a low husky voice.

“Make your girl climax. You have one attempt only. Fastest wins.”

There was a pause before he let out a dark laugh.

“Fuckin’ hell, love,” he muttered, licking his bottom lip as he tossed the envelope aside carelessly. His eyes immediately dropped to the curve of your thighs under your silky robe, pupils already blown. “You wore this for me, huh? You’re lucky I got any self-control at all, lookin’ like that.”

“You need to say the last bit,” you said, breathlessly.

You shifted under his gaze— his whole body language had changed, almost predatory. Tension coiled in his shoulders, sharp and hungry.

“Your time starts now,” he growled, closing the distance in two long strides, he gripped your hips, and pulled you against him with a rough, effortless tug.

You could feel just how hard he was already.

“Stevie hates it when I use you like a fuckin’ ragdoll,” he breathed heavily against your neck, voice low and filthy. “Hates when I leave bruises on those perfect thighs. But you like it though… don’t you, doll?”

He leaned back just enough to let his eyes flick over the room… and spotted the toys scattered near the bed. His brows lift, grin turning sharp.

“You naughty little minx,” he smirked.

He stepped back a touch, just far enough to let his eyes rake down your body, and he dragged a metal finger from the hollow of your throat to the sash at your waist, pulling it apart with a single flick.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, tone low and rough, “you into this? Gag, wand, cuffs— fuck, is that a spreader bar?”

You hesitated— just half a breath— but it was enough.

His smirk widened.

“You don’t gotta answer.” He leaned in, nose brushing your cheek, inhaling deeply. “I can smell how wet you are. Jesus, sweetheart.”

He pressed a kiss to your jaw, before taking a little nip at it.

“I can use this, right?” He picked up the wand.

“All the information is on the task, Buck.”

“Alright, I’ll play your game. One attempt, huh?” His thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Then I better make it count.”

He kissed you— deep, dirty, demanding. Tongue claiming you, hand sliding into your hair. By the time he pulled back, you’re breathless, dazed, and his grin is feral.

“You look fuckin’ edible in that little robe.” His eyes flicked to the wand lying momentarily discarded near the edge of the bed. “And that’s comin’ with me.”

He pushed down his pants before grabbing the wand. He dropped onto the edge of the mattress, dragging you between his legs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension, like a fuse already lit.

“C’mon, doll. On here.” He patted his thigh with a glint in his eye. “Want you ridin’ my leg while I hold this right where you need it. Gonna win this the right way.”

You hesitated— just for a breath—and he tilted his head to the right, that metal hand gripping your hip.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice filled with a dark amusement. “Shy now? After layin’ all these toys out like you’re beggin’ me to use them?”

He tugged your robe open slowly, deliberately, and groaned. “Fuck me, you’re soaked already.” He pressed his face against your neck, breathing you in.

Bucky huffed out a dark, satisfied sound against your neck— part groan, part growl— and you felt it vibrate through his chest, through you. His hands slid around your thighs and hauled you up effortlessly, guiding you until you're straddling his leg, the muscle beneath your folds solid and thick and already slick with your arousal.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice rough with promise. “Look at you. Dripping all over me and I haven’t even started touching you yet.”

He flicked on the wand, and the low hum immediately set your nerves on fire. You reached for something to balance on, but he was already there— one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in tight, while the other brought the toy just to the edge of where you wanted, no— needed it.

“Nah,” he drawled, pulling it back slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief and heat. “Not yet. You wanna win, doll? Gotta earn it.”

“You’re the one competing here, Buck. Not me.”

He set the wand aside just for a second— not forgotten, just delayed—and tilted his thigh up, grinding it between your legs.

“C’mon, ride it.” His voice is a low command, thick and dark. “Rub that sweet little pussy on me while you beg for the real thing.”

You start to move, and fuck, the pressure’s maddening. His metal hand slides up your spine, holding you firm as you rock against him, while his other presses warm and steady against the small of your back.

“God, you feel that?” His teeth grazed your jaw, followed by the gentle scratch of his salt and pepper stubble. “So needy for it. Stevie probably played all sweet, huh? Took his time. Wanted to win like a gentleman?”

The wand was suddenly back— nestled between your thighs. Still off… for now.

“But see, I’m not a gentleman.”

His tone dropped darker, filthier.

“I’m gonna wreck you. Gonna use this until you’re shakin’, cryin’, maybe even beggin’ me to stop. But you won’t, will you? You’ll beg me to keep goin’, like the desperate little doll you are.”

You whimpered, hips stuttering against his thigh, and he finally flipped the wand on.

Low at first— just to tease. You jolted.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “There’s my good girl. Let it build. You know I could make you come in a minute flat if I wanted to— but where’s the fun in that?”

The wand lifted to a higher setting.

He had completely forgotten the timer. Forgotten the rules. Or morley likely, he just didn’t care anymore. Because he was watching you unravel with the utmost attention. Watching your thighs tremble, your mouth part, your hips grind.

“Faster, baby,” he growled, “ride it. Want you to soak me. Want you to scream so loud Stevie’ll hear it through the fuckin’ walls.”

And when your legs started to shake, that’s when he really turned it up. Bucky saw the way your thighs were trembling, the way your nails dig into his shoulders. His whole expression morphed into something hungry… focused… possessive.

“Oh, you’re close, sweetheart,” he purred, voice dripping with lust. “I can feel it. You're right there, grindin’ like a good little slut— so fuckin’ pretty when you fall apart.”

The wand kicked up yet another setting— stronger now, nearly overwhelming—and he held it right there, pressed firm against your clit, angled just right, while his other hand molded you into him, keeping you from shying away from the intensity.

“C’mon, doll,” he growled, jaw tight, eyes fixed on yours. “You wanna win? Then come for me. Come now.”

You cried out—hips jerking, breath catching—and that’s when it hit you. Hard. You come with a shudder so sharp it knocked the air right out of your lungs. Your thighs locked up, your back arched, and your moan is nothing short of wrecked— raw, high-pitched, desperate.

“That’s it,” Bucky snarled, holding you through it, not letting up. “God, look at you— makin’ such a fuckin’ mess, just from my thigh and a little toy. Didn’t even have to fuck you to ruin you, did I?”

You’re shaking— body limp and sweating against him— and still he didn’t move, didn’t ease off, not just yet.

“One attempt only?” he reminded you with a wicked grin, brushing hair from your damp, flushed face. “Good thing I made it count.”

He finally clicked the wand off, tossing it aside, and wrapped both arms around you, holding you close against his chest, now slick with your sweat. He picked up your discarded stopwatch and tapped the stop button with a small sigh.

“Might not’ve been the fastest,” he murmured against your ear, lips brushing your skin, “but I’m pretty sure I won anyway.”

Then he kissed your temple, and added with a low chuckle— “Bet Stevie didn’t make you scream like that, huh?”

Taskmaster

You were draped across Bucky’s chest, legs feeling completely boneless and breath still coming in uneven gasps, when the door swung open.

You tensed— just slightly— but Bucky didn’t even flinch. He casually moved between your thighs, gentle now, wiping you down with a warm, damp cloth he had grabbed from the bathroom barely a minute ago. His metal hand stroked your knee, soothing, while his eyes flicked up lazily toward the doorway.

“Hey, Stevie,” he grinned at the captain.

Steve froze mid-step. His gaze immediately dropped to you, lying on your back, flushed and wrecked, robe hanging off one shoulder and then to the wand Bucky just wiped on his jeans and set down down on the dresser. His jaw tightened.

“You’re early,” Bucky smirked casually, like he didn’t still have his hand between your thighs.

Steve didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on the toy— then on you— then back again on the toy.

“A wand?” he asked, tight-lipped.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Bucky tossed the towel onto the nightstand and stood, running a hand through his hair like he hadn’t just ruined you. “Nothing in the rules prohibiting the use of aids.”

Steve's eyes narrowed.

“They were on the dresser for you, baby,” you said sweetly, turning toward him, still breathless but trying not to let the nerves show. “You could’ve used them if you wanted.”

His gaze softened as it landed on you, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully dissipate. There was something in his face— disappointment, the simple desire to win, or did you detect a flicker of jealousy behind his blue eyes.

You slid off the bed, your legs like jelly, and pulled the robe around yourself, tying it tight around your waist.

“We should go announce the winner,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on. Living room.”

You led the way, your hand slipping into Steve’s as you walked. The two super-soldiers fell in behind you— Steve a little too quiet, Bucky smug as hell.

And you? You were walking like you’ve just survived a warzone.

You settled into your corner of the couch, robe riding up over your thighs. You folded your legs underneath you. Steve stood by the wall with his arms folded, trying to look casual— but the muscle twitching in his jaw gave him away. Bucky lounged at the other end of the couch, legs spread, shirt still undone, face still smug.

You let the silence stretch for just a second longer, before you sighed dramatically.

“Okay,” you start, drawing both their eyes. “So. Points for each of you.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, grinning. Steve shifted his weight from one leg to another.

“Stevie,” you said sweetly, turning to him first. “You were so focused. No distractions. Very efficient.”

He straightened a little.

“I loved how you kissed me first. How you held me. Like you wanted to savour it, but you were still trying to win.” You held out your hand for Steve to come and sit beside you, which he did, albeit with a small reluctance. As soon as he was sitting beside you, you wrapped his arm around your waist and leaned into him. “You always make me feel loved.”

Finally, Steve’s face softened and a small smile crept across his lips. You cupped his cheek lovingly and pressed a soft kiss on the edge of his lips. You paused, slipping your hand into Steve’s before you let your eyes drift slowly toward Bucky.

“Then there’s you.”

He smirked. “I’m listening.”

“You came in like a wrecking ball. Dirty mouth, wandering hands, already picking out your weapon of choice before I could blink.”

“You liked that, though,” Bucky said, clearly still in a mood.

“Mmhm.” You rolled your eyes but your smile gave you away, “you used the wand and made me ride your thigh. That was…” You trailed off, eyes distant for just a second. “Creative. Intense.”

Steve huffed but Bucky beamed.

“But.” You held up a finger. “You got a little… distracted, didn’t you?”

Bucky’s grin faltered. “I mean, you were kinda moaning like—”

“Fastest wins,” you remind him. “You forgot that halfway through.”

Bucky shrugged, totally unrepentant. “I was busy enjoying myself.”

“I know,” you murmured, shifting in your seat. Then you looked at Steve again. “You, on the other hand, finished the job. Quick. Thorough. No extra help.”

The tension in the room was thick now and you let your gaze flick between them.

“So. By the rules… the winner is…”

You trailed off again, letting the silence build, watching Steve’s shoulders square and Bucky tilt his head like he was daring you.

“Steve!”

Steve blinked, surprised. Then smirked, just a little, shoulders relaxing.

Bucky groaned. “Oh, come on. I made you scream. You begged me to—”

“You did,” you interrupted, licking your lips. “And I’ll be dreaming about it for days. But the game was fastest, Buck.”

He threw his head back with a dramatic sigh. “This is rigged. You liked mine better.”

You winked. “That’s not the point.”

Steve was still smirking when he leaned in and kissed your cheek. “I’ll take my victory graciously, darling,” he muttered in your ear.

Bucky muttered under his breath and slumped back against the couch cushions with a petulant scowl. “Punk.”

“Oh, come on, don't be a jerk,” Steve said, glancing over at him with a glint in his eye. 

You watched the way Steve's hand slid from your waist, over to Bucky's thigh, fingers spreading into a firm grip.

“And since we are a team,” Steve added, his gaze moving to Bucky, “I think it’s only fair the loser shows some appreciation for the winner.”

Bucky arched a brow, recognizing the tone instantly. “Yeah? Captain’s orders?”

Steve shrugged, smirking lightly. “You gonna follow them, honey?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to you. You were biting your lip, pulse quickening, watching the silent challenge unfold.

He huffed a laugh, pushed himself up from the couch, and dropped to his knees between Steve’s legs with a roll of his eyes and a low, muttered, “Fucking hate this.”

“No you don’t,” you teased, scooching aside to give them room, eyes wide and greedy.

Bucky glanced up at Steve, who was already leaning back against the couch, legs spread, gaze heavy-lidded. Then he looked at you and smirked. “You just gonna watch, darling?”

Your lips curved. “For now.”

Steve cupped Bucky’s jaw, thumb stroking the edge of his cheekbone. “Be good,” he said quietly.

Bucky scoffed, voice rough. “You’ll be lucky if you’re still coherent.”

And as he leaned in, you settled back against the cushions— heart pounding, robe slipping open at the thigh again— and thought, best game night ever.

[tikkafreespirit]

Secret

Bucky Barnes x Reader

When you're thrown into your greatest shame Bucky finds out a secret you've hidden from him

Mention of sex, childbirth

How in the hell had you ended up here? You were stuck in New York with this damn team. Yelena Belova, Ava Starr, Alexei Shostakov, John Walker of all people…oh yeah and Bucky. You had taken a contract, one last damn contract. You needed it to get anyone off your back, you had to… you didn’t know it was a set up. You didn’t know it was someone trying to take you all out. 

You were now facing your deepest shames, thanks to the void. You’d seen Yelena’s first kill, John’s wife leaving him, Ava’s childhood and you were terrified of what you may face next.

When you walked into a room and it had the damn amber lighting of that hotel room you’d been staying in when Bucky had come to talk to you, you felt your heart drop. No no no no. Not here. Not now. Not in front of the damn team. You stepped closer to John and Alexei, hoping their height could somehow hide you from Bucky. “This is your greatest shame?” he asked as the scene started playing. You felt your face warm as everyone watched Bucky pick you up and carry you across to the bed in the hotel room like he’d done those years before. 

“It’s not what you think” you whispered, then you looked at Yelena, tears in your eyes “I’ve got to get out of here. Now” John raised an eyebrow “Honey, what’s worse than us watching you and Bucky have sex?” 

As if his question spurred the room to shift, the amber lighting changed to the bright overheads of the hospital room you’d used in France. Your head dropped, Bucky’s breath hitching as everyone watched you give birth to your daughter. 

“You have a baby?” John asked and you slowly raised your eyes, them landing on Bucky as you answered John “Yes, she’s almost two” Bucky’s eyes were wide. His breathing was coming in ragged breaths. “Is she…she’s mine” he whispered and you nodded “That’s why us having sex was here. Me keeping her hidden away, but I had no choice Bucky. She was born with the serum in her veins… I couldn’t let anything happen to her” 

He nodded slowly. “I can’t deal with this right now. We have a city to save. We’ve got to figure a way out of this” you nodded as he led the way out of the room. Guess he’d rather face Hydra flashbacks than look at the child you’d never let him know. 

You stood between Ava and Yelena as Valentina introduced all of you to the world as the “New Avengers” Yelena nodded to you then leaned up to whisper in Valentina’s ear “We own you and we are cashing in, now”

You looked across the stage to Bucky and his eyes were already glued to you. You knew he had questions. He’d never thought he’d have kids. Now here he was face to face with you after years apart and knowing you’d given birth to his daughter and had hidden her away. You hadn’t had a choice. Sam and Joaquin had helped you get in contact with doctors who weren’t affiliated with any governments. They didn’t answer to them. When Rebecca was born you’d gotten a series of tests done, that and the fact that she’d broken two of your ribs from the inside by barely grazing her foot across them had told you that she had the serum in her veins. It had carried over from him. You couldn’t let her fall into the wrong hands and you didn’t have the means to protect her.

You fidgeted with your hands until Valentina dismissed all of you. You walked over to Bucky, stepping in his path before he could walk away from you “Can we talk?” his eyes met yours “Oh, you want to talk now?” you swallowed hard, biting back tears. “Bucky, please. I love you, you know that. I loved you when we made her, I never stopped loving you but I had to protect her”

He nodded after a moment, tears forming in his eyes “What’s her name?” “Rebecca” you whispered and he smiled sadly “After my sister?” you nodded “Yes” he took a step towards you “Can I just hold you for a minute? I’ve missed you so damn much” you nodded and damn near threw yourself into his arms. You needed him. You had never wanted to keep Rebecca away from her father. You just wanted her safe.

He held you against his chest “I love you sweetheart, so damn much. We’ll figure something out. We’ll protect her, I promise you but I want you with me. I want our baby girl” you nodded “Ok, I just need her safe Bucky. I’ve got to have her safe. She is the most important thing on the fact of the earth” “I know doll, I know”

Yelena and Bucky had cornered Valentina, they threatened her into protecting Rebecca. She had to put a shield over her. With Sam having the mantle of Captain America, the team behind you… you still weren’t completely sure footed but you wanted Bucky to meet her.

Yelena had gone with you to pick her up from Louisiana. You’d left her in care of Sam’s sister, Sarah. When the two of you pulled into the parking garage under the tower Yelena looked back where Rebecca was asleep in her car seat “She is beautiful” you laughed “She’s very strong too”

She nodded “Are you ready for Bucky to meet her?” you nodded “I feel horrible she’s almost two and he’s just now meeting her” she shook her head “Don’t, you were being a good mother. He understands or he will” you smiled “Thank you Yelena. You’ve become an amazing friend”

She laughed “Don’t thank me yet. Alexei has deemed himself grandfather” your eyes widened “Oh no!” and you started laughing. You climbed out of the car and walked back to unbuckle Rebecca. Her eyes slowly opened, the bright blue hue of them shining even in the low lighting as you picked her up “Hey baby, ready to meet daddy?” She smiled big.

You, her and Yelena headed for the elevator. You knew Bucky was waiting.

___________________

No one was trying to get in Bucky’s way as he paced. He’d been nervous since Yelena called to say you and her were half an hour out. Now that you were headed up? No one was looking at him. The elevator dinged and everyone froze in place as you stepped off. A little girl had her head over on your shoulder, dark curls were all anyone could see at first until she lifted her head.

Bucky’s heart felt like it may leap out of his chest when her eyes landed on him. “Do you want to hold her?” you asked and he looked at her then at you “Can I?” you laughed “Of course, she’s your daughter”

You stepped closer and passed her into his arms. He could feel his hands shaking slightly as her tiny arms wrapped around his neck and he whispered “Hey Rebecca. I’m your daddy. I love you baby girl” and her arms got tighter. He laughed, “Easy sweet girl”

He reached to pull you into his arms too. He heard Yelena tell everyone “Let’s give them some time” but he could have cared less as he held you and Rebecca. “I’m so sorry you had to protect her alone” he whispered and you looked up at him “You’re not mad you lost time with her?” he shook his head “No doll. I’m not mad. I was hurt but you’re right. She is the most important thing. We’ll protect her from anything” 

Rebecca looked up, smiling at you both and reached an arm out to slip one around you as well. You laughed when she tugged you closer “She’s already pretty damn strong” he nodded “I see. Don’t worry, I can handle it” you laid your head over on his shoulder, smoothing a hand down Rebecca’s back “I know. I know she’s safest right here, finally being in your arms”

@desimarie12