smut, angst and redeeming arcs

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Bucky turns away. He is concentrating as hard as he can on a far away bird in the sky, when Nat pokes him in the ribs.

He glares at her.

Too obvious, she mouths silently, not taking her eyes off the screen.

He fixates on the screen.

Suddenly, everyone jumps and yelps when the alien pops out on the screen. Bucky’s eyes automatically gp to your face, of course - you are laughing, hiding your face in Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s shoulder.

“I need a drink,” Bucky mumbles, getting up and beelining for the kitchen.

He sighs and rubs his face as he walks to the fridge and opens it blindly. He stands there for a few moments, enjoying the cool air on his overheating skin. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You alright, soldier?”

Bucky slams the fridge shut.

“Nat, get a fucking bell,” He sighs and opens it again, grabbing two beers. 

She takes one.

“You get some balls,” She takes a sip and smirks at his stormy expression, “I’m serious, man. See how cozy?” She gestures through the open slide doors into the living room.

Bucky looks at you, indeed very much cozied up to Sam’s side. His arm is on your shoulder. Bucky closes his eyes.

“He’s not losing time, you know,” Nat says. she takes a long swig again, and Bucky glares once more, “And I think he’ll make a move.”

Sam didn’t make a move, but Bucky still suspected Nat meddled through the shadows, as one does.

He’s looking at his pitifully nervous expression in the mirror, preparing to go talk to you.

“Alright,” He cracks his knuckles and neck, “I’m going.”

It’s Saturday, and most of the team is out and about. He makes his way to your and Nat’s floor, and purposefully walks to your door. There’s music blaring from behind it.

He knocks, hard.

After a second the music goes slightly down and you open the door, clad in comfy sweats and a t-shirt.

“Buck!” You smile widely, stepping aside to let him in, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He walks in and looks around, immediately assaulted by the medley of your heady smells - your perfume, your shampoo, just… you. 

Your huge ginger cat lounges on the bed. He rolls on his back, still eying Bucky with no visible trust.

“Hi, Beast,” He says.

The cat stares unblinkingly.

“Don’t be a dick,” You say to the cat, giggling, “Did you wanna hang out?”

He looks back to your face, the openness of your gaze hitting him like a bat under the knees.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I mean… I had a question.”

“Shoot.”

Your hands are on your hips, expectant.

He listens in on the lyrics of the song.

Before the party is over.

Yeah.

“Can I take you out?” He says. His voice is steady and it surprises him.

“Sure, we can go to karaoke and then to dinner?” You smile wider.

“No,” He says. He notices the moment of confusion on your face, “No, I mean. On a date.”

And then he notices other things - shock, confusion, fear, pity.

“Oh. Buck, I…”

“It’s fine. forget it,” He gets it from the first words, :”Forget about it. It won’t be weird, promise.”

He makes for the door, but you grab his hand.

“Stop! That’s not it. I just meant,” He looks back at you, his hand immediately sweating in yourts, “I don’t really like to date. Bad experiences, you know… I’m open to some… casual things, though?”

He stares at your face. At the little half-smile. At your fingers, that you’re slowly intertwining with his.

“Casual?” He says. He’s already hard. He’s already sad, too.

“yeah,” You say, closing the distance, fingers together. You press your body to his and he gasps, eyes falling half-shut.

You pull out the scrunchie from his hair and it falls to his shoulders from the cute little bun that drives you nuts.

“You wanna kiss me?” You whisper.

He does. And dies, just a little bit. 

***

You’ve been fucking for months now, and Bucky is mor ein love than ever. He brings you takeout after hard days and puts on your favorite shows, watching you eat and giggle happily. It makes his heart hurt. It makes him want to die.

When you kiss him, he almost does., again. Like the first time, in your room - his mind always goes back to that first night when he made you cum so hard you cried and begged him to stop, and then to keep going.

He’s in love, he can’t deny it. He wants you every second of every day and can’t stand being away. Every mission without you, or god forbid - you on a mission without him? He’s a mess. 

He hides it of course. Everyone knows anyway, but he hides it, for decorum’s sake. But who is he kidding?

Nat teases him, but when she sees his stricken eyes always lets up and offers words of comfort. 

He catalogs every stolen kiss, every handjob in a dirty alley, every heated glance at dinner after which you meet somewhere and cling to each other like animals.

He’s walking the halls of the compound, worried out of his mind.You’re four hours late - your team called in, the chopper is supposed to be at base. He’s been looking out of every single window, pretending to be doing something else when someone notices his wandering. 

Finally, he hears the cutting whirr of the chopper and sprints to the helipad.

He doesn’t go out onto the roof, but stands in the shadows. He sees everyone load out, agents - Simmons, Jackson, Philbury, goddammit where’s… He sees you. Blood on your face, and his heart sinks, but you’re not limping or holding anything in pain, nobody helps you, so you’re fine. Right?

He makes his way back to his room before anyone notices him and blasts music - some garbage Steve gave him that he never got into, but it’s loud and aggressive and drowns out his brain. He paces the room, counting, berating himself.

You fucking creep.

Watching her like that.

Nat is right, you are weird.

She never said those words.

But you are, aren;t you?

Creep.

Creepy fuck. 

It’s time, it’s been enough. He takes a deep breath and walks up to your floor, slowly, calmly. He’s in no hurry.

He knocks hard, like always, already feeling better from the familiar sounds of straining dynamics from behind your door.

The door flies open after a few moments later than usual, giving him enough time to get angry at himself.

When your dark, feverish eyes lock onto his he forgets it all though.

You pull him in, locking the door behind his back and instantly turning him, pushing him onto the bed.

“Babe,” he starts, but you fall on top of him, already bereft of your tac gear, left in practical cotton panties and a bra.

“Quiet. I need you,” You say.

You get like this after something happens. He knows you won’t talk to him about it, but he;ll find out from other agents or snippets of reports. Some things you can’t come back from - he doesn’t know what the fuck you do when he’s not there to reign you in, but he’s see the faces of your underlings. He knows you can go feral - but you get results, and even Tony lets you do what you want when the situation is dire.

Bucky knows that you’re drawn to him because he’;s the same kind of fucked up, seeing a new abomination every time he closes his eyes - but he doesn’t care. As long as he gets to bury himself in you, be the one you come to for violent comfort, be the one whose neck you sink your teeth in, keening on a climax - he’s happy.

You rub yourself onto his jeans, sweating and panting. His hands roam all over your body, pulling and squeezing.

“My sweet monster,” He breathes into your mouth and rolls you on your back.

He takes over. Your sounds convince you that he’s doing good - you gasp and purr every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, cold and warm, while kissing you deeply. You’re both panting from making out, but he can’t take his mouth off you.

“Eat me out,” You beg on an exhale and he immediately obliges, crawling down your body. Your legs are around his ears in a moment and he’s buries his face in your pussy, right through the panties, inhaling you. You nuzzle into him, your head thrown back. 

He pushes his tongue between your folds, trying to caress your clit., and finally gets annoyed with the fabric, pulling it hastily away down your legs. You spread your legs for him and he moans at the sight of your body, of your willingness.

He wraps his arms around your legs and stays there until you start to whine and writhe under him, pulling him up by his hair. He obliges, and comes up, kissing you with his wet mouth and beard. You quickly undo his jeans and push them down, pulling him out, leaking and needy.

He enters you easily and for the next hour nothing else exists other than you and how you want to be pleased. He couldn’t stop if there was a gun to his head. He would kill anyone, destroy anything that stood between him and you.

When he’s made you come three times and spent himself inside you twice, his abdomen quivering, but his hands still glued to you, you finally start to calm down.

You lay on the bed next to him, naked and unashamed, looking at the ceiling.

He watches you quietly, hoping you’ll want to cuddle. Hoping you’ll ask him to stay the night - it happened only once but he can’t get over it.

“I’m hungry,” You say finally into the ceiling.

“Want to go out to dinner,” He smiles, already planning where he’ll take you.

“Yeah, I told Nat I’ll call when I’m back. I’ll go shower,” You jump off the bed and walk towards the bathroom, “Leave the door cracked for Beast, okay?” You throw over your shoulder.

Ah.

His time is over.

He listens to you turn on the water and hum as you shower. A few minutes, he can’t take it anymore. HEr gathers his things, returns to his room.

Sits down. 

Puts on your music.

Bucky turns away. He is concentrating as hard as he can on a far away bird in the sky, when Nat pokes him in the ribs.

He glares at her.

Too obvious, she mouths silently, not taking her eyes off the screen.

He fixates on the screen.

Suddenly, everyone jumps and yelps when the alien pops out on the screen. Bucky’s eyes automatically gp to your face, of course - you are laughing, hiding your face in Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s shoulder.

“I need a drink,” Bucky mumbles, getting up and beelining for the kitchen.

He sighs and rubs his face as he walks to the fridge and opens it blindly. He stands there for a few moments, enjoying the cool air on his overheating skin. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You alright, soldier?”

Bucky slams the fridge shut.

“Nat, get a fucking bell,” He sighs and opens it again, grabbing two beers. 

She takes one.

“You get some balls,” She takes a sip and smirks at his stormy expression, “I’m serious, man. See how cozy?” She gestures through the open slide doors into the living room.

Bucky looks at you, indeed very much cozied up to Sam’s side. His arm is on your shoulder. Bucky closes his eyes.

“He’s not losing time, you know,” Nat says. she takes a long swig again, and Bucky glares once more, “And I think he’ll make a move.”

Sam didn’t make a move, but Bucky still suspected Nat meddled through the shadows, as one does.

He’s looking at his pitifully nervous expression in the mirror, preparing to go talk to you.

“Alright,” He cracks his knuckles and neck, “I’m going.”

It’s Saturday, and most of the team is out and about. He makes his way to your and Nat’s floor, and purposefully walks to your door. There’s music blaring from behind it.

He knocks, hard.

After a second the music goes slightly down and you open the door, clad in comfy sweats and a t-shirt.

“Buck!” You smile widely, stepping aside to let him in, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He walks in and looks around, immediately assaulted by the medley of your heady smells - your perfume, your shampoo, just… you. 

Your huge ginger cat lounges on the bed. He rolls on his back, still eying Bucky with no visible trust.

“Hi, Beast,” He says.

The cat stares unblinkingly.

“Don’t be a dick,” You say to the cat, giggling, “Did you wanna hang out?”

He looks back to your face, the openness of your gaze hitting him like a bat under the knees.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I mean… I had a question.”

“Shoot.”

Your hands are on your hips, expectant.

He listens in on the lyrics of the song.

Before the party is over.

Yeah.

“Can I take you out?” He says. His voice is steady and it surprises him.

“Sure, we can go to karaoke and then to dinner?” You smile wider.

“No,” He says. He notices the moment of confusion on your face, “No, I mean. On a date.”

And then he notices other things - shock, confusion, fear, pity.

“Oh. Buck, I…”

“It’s fine. forget it,” He gets it from the first words, :”Forget about it. It won’t be weird, promise.”

He makes for the door, but you grab his hand.

“Stop! That’s not it. I just meant,” He looks back at you, his hand immediately sweating in yourts, “I don’t really like to date. Bad experiences, you know… I’m open to some… casual things, though?”

He stares at your face. At the little half-smile. At your fingers, that you’re slowly intertwining with his.

“Casual?” He says. He’s already hard. He’s already sad, too.

“yeah,” You say, closing the distance, fingers together. You press your body to his and he gasps, eyes falling half-shut.

You pull out the scrunchie from his hair and it falls to his shoulders from the cute little bun that drives you nuts.

“You wanna kiss me?” You whisper.

He does. And dies, just a little bit. 

***

You’ve been fucking for months now, and Bucky is mor ein love than ever. He brings you takeout after hard days and puts on your favorite shows, watching you eat and giggle happily. It makes his heart hurt. It makes him want to die.

When you kiss him, he almost does., again. Like the first time, in your room - his mind always goes back to that first night when he made you cum so hard you cried and begged him to stop, and then to keep going.

He’s in love, he can’t deny it. He wants you every second of every day and can’t stand being away. Every mission without you, or god forbid - you on a mission without him? He’s a mess. 

He hides it of course. Everyone knows anyway, but he hides it, for decorum’s sake. But who is he kidding?

Nat teases him, but when she sees his stricken eyes always lets up and offers words of comfort. 

He catalogs every stolen kiss, every handjob in a dirty alley, every heated glance at dinner after which you meet somewhere and cling to each other like animals.

He’s walking the halls of the compound, worried out of his mind.You’re four hours late - your team called in, the chopper is supposed to be at base. He’s been looking out of every single window, pretending to be doing something else when someone notices his wandering. 

Finally, he hears the cutting whirr of the chopper and sprints to the helipad.

He doesn’t go out onto the roof, but stands in the shadows. He sees everyone load out, agents - Simmons, Jackson, Philbury, goddammit where’s… He sees you. Blood on your face, and his heart sinks, but you’re not limping or holding anything in pain, nobody helps you, so you’re fine. Right?

He makes his way back to his room before anyone notices him and blasts music - some garbage Steve gave him that he never got into, but it’s loud and aggressive and drowns out his brain. He paces the room, counting, berating himself.

You fucking creep.

Watching her like that.

Nat is right, you are weird.

She never said those words.

But you are, aren;t you?

Creep.

Creepy fuck. 

It’s time, it’s been enough. He takes a deep breath and walks up to your floor, slowly, calmly. He’s in no hurry.

He knocks hard, like always, already feeling better from the familiar sounds of straining dynamics from behind your door.

The door flies open after a few moments later than usual, giving him enough time to get angry at himself.

When your dark, feverish eyes lock onto his he forgets it all though.

You pull him in, locking the door behind his back and instantly turning him, pushing him onto the bed.

“Babe,” he starts, but you fall on top of him, already bereft of your tac gear, left in practical cotton panties and a bra.

“Quiet. I need you,” You say.

You get like this after something happens. He knows you won’t talk to him about it, but he;ll find out from other agents or snippets of reports. Some things you can’t come back from - he doesn’t know what the fuck you do when he’s not there to reign you in, but he’s see the faces of your underlings. He knows you can go feral - but you get results, and even Tony lets you do what you want when the situation is dire.

Bucky knows that you’re drawn to him because he’;s the same kind of fucked up, seeing a new abomination every time he closes his eyes - but he doesn’t care. As long as he gets to bury himself in you, be the one you come to for violent comfort, be the one whose neck you sink your teeth in, keening on a climax - he’s happy.

You rub yourself onto his jeans, sweating and panting. His hands roam all over your body, pulling and squeezing.

“My sweet monster,” He breathes into your mouth and rolls you on your back.

He takes over. Your sounds convince you that he’s doing good - you gasp and purr every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, cold and warm, while kissing you deeply. You’re both panting from making out, but he can’t take his mouth off you.

“Eat me out,” You beg on an exhale and he immediately obliges, crawling down your body. Your legs are around his ears in a moment and he’s buries his face in your pussy, right through the panties, inhaling you. You nuzzle into him, your head thrown back. 

He pushes his tongue between your folds, trying to caress your clit., and finally gets annoyed with the fabric, pulling it hastily away down your legs. You spread your legs for him and he moans at the sight of your body, of your willingness.

He wraps his arms around your legs and stays there until you start to whine and writhe under him, pulling him up by his hair. He obliges, and comes up, kissing you with his wet mouth and beard. You quickly undo his jeans and push them down, pulling him out, leaking and needy.

He enters you easily and for the next hour nothing else exists other than you and how you want to be pleased. He couldn’t stop if there was a gun to his head. He would kill anyone, destroy anything that stood between him and you.

When he’s made you come three times and spent himself inside you twice, his abdomen quivering, but his hands still glued to you, you finally start to calm down.

You lay on the bed next to him, naked and unashamed, looking at the ceiling.

He watches you quietly, hoping you’ll want to cuddle. Hoping you’ll ask him to stay the night - it happened only once but he can’t get over it.

“I’m hungry,” You say finally into the ceiling.

“Want to go out to dinner,” He smiles, already planning where he’ll take you.

“Yeah, I told Nat I’ll call when I’m back. I’ll go shower,” You jump off the bed and walk towards the bathroom, “Leave the door cracked for Beast, okay?” You throw over your shoulder.

Ah.

His time is over.

He listens to you turn on the water and hum as you shower. A few minutes, he can’t take it anymore. HEr gathers his things, returns to his room.

Sits down. 

Puts on your music.

Bucky turns away. He is concentrating as hard as he can on a far away bird in the sky, when Nat pokes him in the ribs.

He glares at her.

Too obvious, she mouths silently, not taking her eyes off the screen.

He fixates on the screen.

Suddenly, everyone jumps and yelps when the alien pops out on the screen. Bucky’s eyes automatically gp to your face, of course - you are laughing, hiding your face in Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s shoulder.

“I need a drink,” Bucky mumbles, getting up and beelining for the kitchen.

He sighs and rubs his face as he walks to the fridge and opens it blindly. He stands there for a few moments, enjoying the cool air on his overheating skin. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You alright, soldier?”

Bucky slams the fridge shut.

“Nat, get a fucking bell,” He sighs and opens it again, grabbing two beers. 

She takes one.

“You get some balls,” She takes a sip and smirks at his stormy expression, “I’m serious, man. See how cozy?” She gestures through the open slide doors into the living room.

Bucky looks at you, indeed very much cozied up to Sam’s side. His arm is on your shoulder. Bucky closes his eyes.

“He’s not losing time, you know,” Nat says. she takes a long swig again, and Bucky glares once more, “And I think he’ll make a move.”

Sam didn’t make a move, but Bucky still suspected Nat meddled through the shadows, as one does.

He’s looking at his pitifully nervous expression in the mirror, preparing to go talk to you.

“Alright,” He cracks his knuckles and neck, “I’m going.”

It’s Saturday, and most of the team is out and about. He makes his way to your and Nat’s floor, and purposefully walks to your door. There’s music blaring from behind it.

He knocks, hard.

After a second the music goes slightly down and you open the door, clad in comfy sweats and a t-shirt.

“Buck!” You smile widely, stepping aside to let him in, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He walks in and looks around, immediately assaulted by the medley of your heady smells - your perfume, your shampoo, just… you. 

Your huge ginger cat lounges on the bed. He rolls on his back, still eying Bucky with no visible trust.

“Hi, Beast,” He says.

The cat stares unblinkingly.

“Don’t be a dick,” You say to the cat, giggling, “Did you wanna hang out?”

He looks back to your face, the openness of your gaze hitting him like a bat under the knees.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I mean… I had a question.”

“Shoot.”

Your hands are on your hips, expectant.

He listens in on the lyrics of the song.

Before the party is over.

Yeah.

“Can I take you out?” He says. His voice is steady and it surprises him.

“Sure, we can go to karaoke and then to dinner?” You smile wider.

“No,” He says. He notices the moment of confusion on your face, “No, I mean. On a date.”

And then he notices other things - shock, confusion, fear, pity.

“Oh. Buck, I…”

“It’s fine. forget it,” He gets it from the first words, :”Forget about it. It won’t be weird, promise.”

He makes for the door, but you grab his hand.

“Stop! That’s not it. I just meant,” He looks back at you, his hand immediately sweating in yourts, “I don’t really like to date. Bad experiences, you know… I’m open to some… casual things, though?”

He stares at your face. At the little half-smile. At your fingers, that you’re slowly intertwining with his.

“Casual?” He says. He’s already hard. He’s already sad, too.

“yeah,” You say, closing the distance, fingers together. You press your body to his and he gasps, eyes falling half-shut.

You pull out the scrunchie from his hair and it falls to his shoulders from the cute little bun that drives you nuts.

“You wanna kiss me?” You whisper.

He does. And dies, just a little bit. 

***

You’ve been fucking for months now, and Bucky is mor ein love than ever. He brings you takeout after hard days and puts on your favorite shows, watching you eat and giggle happily. It makes his heart hurt. It makes him want to die.

When you kiss him, he almost does., again. Like the first time, in your room - his mind always goes back to that first night when he made you cum so hard you cried and begged him to stop, and then to keep going.

He’s in love, he can’t deny it. He wants you every second of every day and can’t stand being away. Every mission without you, or god forbid - you on a mission without him? He’s a mess. 

He hides it of course. Everyone knows anyway, but he hides it, for decorum’s sake. But who is he kidding?

Nat teases him, but when she sees his stricken eyes always lets up and offers words of comfort. 

He catalogs every stolen kiss, every handjob in a dirty alley, every heated glance at dinner after which you meet somewhere and cling to each other like animals.

He’s walking the halls of the compound, worried out of his mind.You’re four hours late - your team called in, the chopper is supposed to be at base. He’s been looking out of every single window, pretending to be doing something else when someone notices his wandering. 

Finally, he hears the cutting whirr of the chopper and sprints to the helipad.

He doesn’t go out onto the roof, but stands in the shadows. He sees everyone load out, agents - Simmons, Jackson, Philbury, goddammit where’s… He sees you. Blood on your face, and his heart sinks, but you’re not limping or holding anything in pain, nobody helps you, so you’re fine. Right?

He makes his way back to his room before anyone notices him and blasts music - some garbage Steve gave him that he never got into, but it’s loud and aggressive and drowns out his brain. He paces the room, counting, berating himself.

You fucking creep.

Watching her like that.

Nat is right, you are weird.

She never said those words.

But you are, aren;t you?

Creep.

Creepy fuck. 

It’s time, it’s been enough. He takes a deep breath and walks up to your floor, slowly, calmly. He’s in no hurry.

He knocks hard, like always, already feeling better from the familiar sounds of straining dynamics from behind your door.

The door flies open after a few moments later than usual, giving him enough time to get angry at himself.

When your dark, feverish eyes lock onto his he forgets it all though.

You pull him in, locking the door behind his back and instantly turning him, pushing him onto the bed.

“Babe,” he starts, but you fall on top of him, already bereft of your tac gear, left in practical cotton panties and a bra.

“Quiet. I need you,” You say.

You get like this after something happens. He knows you won’t talk to him about it, but he;ll find out from other agents or snippets of reports. Some things you can’t come back from - he doesn’t know what the fuck you do when he’s not there to reign you in, but he’s see the faces of your underlings. He knows you can go feral - but you get results, and even Tony lets you do what you want when the situation is dire.

Bucky knows that you’re drawn to him because he’;s the same kind of fucked up, seeing a new abomination every time he closes his eyes - but he doesn’t care. As long as he gets to bury himself in you, be the one you come to for violent comfort, be the one whose neck you sink your teeth in, keening on a climax - he’s happy.

You rub yourself onto his jeans, sweating and panting. His hands roam all over your body, pulling and squeezing.

“My sweet monster,” He breathes into your mouth and rolls you on your back.

He takes over. Your sounds convince you that he’s doing good - you gasp and purr every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, cold and warm, while kissing you deeply. You’re both panting from making out, but he can’t take his mouth off you.

“Eat me out,” You beg on an exhale and he immediately obliges, crawling down your body. Your legs are around his ears in a moment and he’s buries his face in your pussy, right through the panties, inhaling you. You nuzzle into him, your head thrown back. 

He pushes his tongue between your folds, trying to caress your clit., and finally gets annoyed with the fabric, pulling it hastily away down your legs. You spread your legs for him and he moans at the sight of your body, of your willingness.

He wraps his arms around your legs and stays there until you start to whine and writhe under him, pulling him up by his hair. He obliges, and comes up, kissing you with his wet mouth and beard. You quickly undo his jeans and push them down, pulling him out, leaking and needy.

He enters you easily and for the next hour nothing else exists other than you and how you want to be pleased. He couldn’t stop if there was a gun to his head. He would kill anyone, destroy anything that stood between him and you.

When he’s made you come three times and spent himself inside you twice, his abdomen quivering, but his hands still glued to you, you finally start to calm down.

You lay on the bed next to him, naked and unashamed, looking at the ceiling.

He watches you quietly, hoping you’ll want to cuddle. Hoping you’ll ask him to stay the night - it happened only once but he can’t get over it.

“I’m hungry,” You say finally into the ceiling.

“Want to go out to dinner,” He smiles, already planning where he’ll take you.

“Yeah, I told Nat I’ll call when I’m back. I’ll go shower,” You jump off the bed and walk towards the bathroom, “Leave the door cracked for Beast, okay?” You throw over your shoulder.

Ah.

His time is over.

He listens to you turn on the water and hum as you shower. A few minutes, he can’t take it anymore. HEr gathers his things, returns to his room.

Sits down. 

Puts on your music.