Anna The First.

authors note: howdy again! wow, this was hard to write - writing smut while suffering PMDD is not for the fainthearted - sorry if it's a bit rushed. i think i actually went feral. i am so shocked with how much love the first 2 parts got - like what do you mean part 2 already has 1,000 notes?!, i'm sorry for keeping you waiting! now i'm gonna go smoke a cone (i promised myself i wouldn't smoke today until i posted). thanks so much for the love, i really do appreciate it <3 i hope you enjoy part 3! there may be a part 4... please like, reblog, and comment x

part one part two

The half hour drive—on a good day—from the Watchtower to your apartment was cut in half by Bucky, his driving bordering on reckless and definitely illegal. The honking from pissed off New Yorkers fell on deaf ears as Bucky raced through the city, his mind focused only on you and your safety. 

Yelena was quiet in the passenger seat, her own worry for you keeping her silent. Sounds of your quiet sniffling filled the tense silence in the car, Bucky asking if you’re okay every few minutes—reminding himself that you’re not in any immediate danger. His gut still churned every time you let out a shaky breath. 

The car’s engine was still on when Bucky jumped out of the driver’s side, his eyes scanning the small park—a flash of panic bolting through him when he didn’t see you straight away. Yelena reached over the middle console to turn the car off before joining him outside. 

Bucky was gone in a flash, his eyes catching sight of you sat next to a family, their dogs head resting on your knee as your body trembled. He almost didn’t recognise your fragile frame, arms wrapped tightly around your chest in an attempt to keep yourself from falling apart.

Bucky felt his heart break as he beelined towards you—dropping to his knees in front of you in an instant.

You sucked in a sharp breath as gentle hands cradled your face—one warm, one cold. You opened your eyes, your tear-filled vision taking in the blurry figure in front of you. Bucky.

His flesh thumb delicately brushed tears away as more fell down your cheeks. His eyes studied your face, checking for any injuries—only finding fear and relief written on your features. His grip tightened imperceptibly at the fear in your eyes. 

Your body slumped forward in relief, your forehead resting on Bucky’s collarbone as the adrenaline crashed through you. You let out little sobs against his chest as the events of the day caught up to you. He moved his vibranium hand from your jaw, wrapping it around your back and squeezing you to him tightly. Your hands clutched the front of his shirt in response, anchoring yourself to him.

“I’m here, doll. You’re okay, just breathe for me.” He whispered soothingly into your hair, his chin resting on your head as you collapsed into him more. His flesh hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers rubbing slow circles on your scalp causing your breath to shudder against him—the comforting touches almost overwhelming you.

You sat clutching to Bucky for a few minutes, your breath evening out to match his own. You pulled away from him, the feeling of his vibranium fingers gently running up and down your back bringing you back to reality. You looked over his shoulder to see Yelena silently watching the two of you, her face scrunched in concern over the state you were in. 

Bucky rose to his full height, taking a step back from you and addressing Yelena while his eyes never left your face. 

“You stay here with her—I’m going to check the apartment.” He met Yelena’s eyes with a commanding fire in his own, “don’t take your eyes off her for a second.” His voice was low, final. 

You gave him a small watery smile, which was all he needed before he turned and ran across the street into your building. 

Bucky made it to your front door in under a minute, easily tracking your scent like a bloodhound. His eyes examined the scene in front of him, his gut wrenching at the sight of your home torn apart. 

He pulled his cracked phone out of his pocket, quickly sending a text to Bob.

Bucky: Make sure the spare room is set up. Now. 

Bob: why??

Bucky: It’s for Y/N, I’ll explain later. Get a move on. 

Bucky stealthily moved throughout the apartment, gun drawn at his side as he checked every dark corner for intruders. He holstered his weapon once he cleared the apartment, confident there were no threats hiding after his sweep. 

He went back through every room, cataloguing everything he could. His heart rate picked up as he came to the realisation that this wasn’t a burglary—the place was trashed, including valuable items thieves would’ve taken. This was a personal attack meant to scare you. He felt his body seizing in dread and guilt, knowing your job was the reason you had a target on your back.

Your bedroom got the brunt of the attack—your bed upturned, dresser drawers broken and flung around the room, your clothes ripped into shreds lying on the floor. Your bedside table was covered in what looked like pages from your journal, your private musings on display for anyone to see. 

Bucky’s stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as he saw your underwear thrown throughout the room. Lace hanging from the light shade, ripped bras draped on the frame of your broken mirror, torn cotton in a pile on the floor. 

A protective rage gripped his chest at the sight—he felt like he was the one who had been violated. He didn’t want you to see this. He didn’t want you knowing a stranger had defiled the things you kept private, the intimate parts of you now exposed. 

Feeling ashamed at himself for even looking at your private belongings, he turned to exit your room. He took a few centering breaths, trying to squash the possessive beast stirring in his gut. 

His enhanced hearing picked up on a faint buzzing—something the normal human ear would’ve missed—coming from the bookcase opposite your bed. He approached it slowly, the buzzing growing louder. He raised his flesh hand and ran it down the wood on the back of the bookcase, his fingertip grazing a small raised bump. He pushed the bookcase away from the wall, eyes falling on the small bump—a listening device. 

Fuck.

This confirmed his worst fears—you are a target. Someone is surveilling you, terrorising your apartment and life, and for a reason he’s scared to find out.

He pulled his phone out again, this time texting Yelena.

Bucky: This was a targeted attack. I found a bug in her room. 

Yelena: Shit.

Bucky: Yeah. Bob’s getting the spare room at the tower ready now. Bring her up to pack a bag.

Pocketing the phone, Bucky swept the rooms—again—this time listening out for bugs. He found one more, tucked into a book on the bookshelf in the living room—one of the only books not ripped in half lying on the floor. The book stood out like a sore thumb against the chaos—whoever planted the bugs was trying to conceal them behind the destruction of your apartment.

It was sloppy, in his professional opinion.

He removed both bugs and placed them on your kitchen table, ready for Yelena to inspect as the two of you walked in the open door. 

You walked over to Bucky instantly, gazing at him with shining, red-rimmed eyes.

Still beautiful, he thought.

He tilted his head towards the bugs on the table before gently grabbing your arm and leading you to the bathroom. Once inside he closed the door, directing you to sit on the toilet as he squatted down to your level. 

He let go of your arm, lifting his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose—the action showing his clear distress at the situation. He sighed deeply before he looked at you with soft, troubled eyes. 

This was not how I had imagined him in my bathroom, the only helpful thing your brain could think of in this moment. 

“There’s no easy way to say this,” he started, voice low and comforting. “But…I believe you’re being targeted because of your job, because of us.” His flesh hand grabbed one of yours, squeezing gently. 

“I found two bugs—listening devices. One in the living room, and the other…the other was in your room.” He gripped your hand tighter at your sharp gasp echoing in the bathroom. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

You quickly wiped away the fresh tears streaming down your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths as your mind raced. Not only had your place been wrecked, someone had been listening to you.

“Do—do you know, um, do you know how long? H-how long they’ve been listening?” You whispered tentatively, your voice cracking at the end. 

Bucky felt his heart tug towards you as he looked at the terror in your eyes. “I don’t know, doll. I have a feeling they’ve only been placed today, but we’ll take them back to the tower to run tests.”

He stood to his full height, gently pulling you up with him. “Go pack a bag. You’ll stay at the tower with us until we find who did this to you.” Bucky commanded gently, leaving no room for argument. 

Yelena had wrapped the bugs in multiple layers of fabric by the time you both reappeared, holding the bundle out to Bucky. “They’re pretty rudimentary, probably bought from the store on the corner. I’ll check surveillance cameras when we get back to the tower.” 

He nodded at her once, showing his thanks. “Help her pack. I’ll stand watch.” 

From Bucky’s position guarding the front door he heard your sharp intake of breath as you stepped into your room. He squeezed his eyes shut, guilt taking ahold of his chest. He should’ve warned you. 

He heard Yelena joking around softly, trying to distract you. “That shirt was unflattering, anyway. We’ll get you a whole new wardrobe—see how much we can put on the New Avengers credit card, yeah?” You were too tired to give her a response.

This was all his fault. 

————————

The car ride back to the Watchtower was completely silent. Bucky drove slower than before, his grip on the steering wheel loose now that he knew you were safe. You were in the passenger seat, head leaning against the window as you watched the setting sun encompass the city, casting everything in a pink and orange glow. Bucky’s eyes flickered to you every few minutes admiring the way the sunset shone on your hair, giving you a subtle halo.

Yelena was in the backseat, thumbs flying across her phone screen as she updated the team and tried to answer their questions before you got back to the tower. 

Ava: Is she ok? What can we do to help?

Bob: i made sure to give her our softest, nicest smelling sheets. should i run a bath for her??

Yelena: Ava, she’s as ok as someone would be having their privacy violated and life torn apart. Give her space, no bombarding her with questions, please.

Yelena: Bob, that is bordering on creepy. No bath running. 

Bob: shit i didn’t mean it like that!! just thought it might help her relax, i swear

John: Just wait until Barnes reads this, Bobby. He’s gonna wring your neck!

Yelena: Shut the fuck up and don’t be an insensitive ass for once in your life, Walker. You better be hiding in your room by the time we get up there. 

Bucky pulled into the Watchtower basement and jumped out of the car once parked, rounding the hood and opening your door in the blink of an eye. You stepped out slowly, watching in a daze as he grabbed your suitcase and bag from the trunk before guiding you to the elevator. Your chest squeezed at his chivalrous actions—he was a goddamn dreamboat and it was doing dangerous things to your heart. 

“We’ll go to the common room first, get you some food and water.” Bucky spoke as the elevator ascended, “I’m sure the team will want to check on you, too.”

You tried to hold in your sigh, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed. You were exhausted, and while the thought of the other New Avengers waiting for you brought you some comfort, you just wanted to pass out. 

You responded to Bucky with a hesitant quiet voice, “I’m not really that hungry…” You trailed off at the stern look in Bucky’s eyes, his brows furrowed in a frown. 

“I don’t care, doll. You need to eat.” 

The doors opening cut off any response you might’ve had. The rest of the team—minus Walker—jumped up from their spots on the couches, rushing over to make sure you were okay. 

Alexei was the first to reach you immediately pulling you into a tight bear hug, your feet lifting off the ground. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder briefly. This man had hugged you more in the past two weeks than your father had in your whole life. 

“We’ll make them pay, my solnyshko. No one who hurts you deserves to live.” You let out a huffed laugh despite yourself, Alexei’s violent promise soothing you. You had no doubt they would protect you like one of their own. 

Ava and Bob came over to check on you once Alexei let go, both offering reassuring smiles and promising their doors were open if you needed. You felt your eyes welling up again at their kindness and support.

Bucky led you over to the kitchen, instructing you to sit down at the island while he reheated yesterday’s leftovers  for you. He leaned against the counter opposite the island, watching you like a hawk as you ate a few pitiful spoonfuls. 

You lifted your eyes up meeting Bucky’s troubled, watchful gaze. Letting out a sigh, you spoke softly despite your frayed nerves. “Bucky, I—thank you for taking care of me, I really appreciate it.” 

Bucky’s hands tightened into fists at your gratitude, feeling sick with guilt that he was the reason you were even in this position. 

“But,” you continued. “I just want to shower and go to sleep. Please, I’m not hungry I swear—I had a big lunch.” You pleaded with the super soldier, wide eyes locked on his softening ones. 

He crossed his arms across his chest, the urge to pull you into his embrace overwhelming him. 

“Fine, I’ll show you to your room. Grab that glass of water.” Bucky relented, grabbing your stuff and taking you up to the bedroom level. 

You followed him down a long, wide hallway until he reached the door at the very end. He opened the door, sweeping his hand forward to signal you enter first. 

The room was bathed in a dim yellow light, the lamps on the bedside tables illuminating the place softly. The bed was pressed against the wall on the right—the plush, clean bedding beckoning you forward. In front of you, on the other side of the bed, were large windows overlooking the city—an open balcony door bringing in a gentle breeze that rustled the partially closed curtains. To the left of the windows was an open door—the bathroom, you presume—, a dresser with a TV atop it against the wall, and an open wardrobe door closer to where you stood.

Bucky walked in behind you, putting your bags next to the wardrobe and dresser. He cleared his throat slightly, getting your attention. “Ava is in the room to the left and—unfortunately—Walker is in the room across the hall.” A frown took over his face at the thought of John being close to you. “Sorry, this was the only spare room left. If you need anything, go to Ava first.”

He hesitated, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Otherwise, my room is at the other end of the hall, just past the elevator.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit. “You know, if no one else is around. Or if you wanted to talk, we can do that too,” he gave you a nervous smile as he briskly walked towards the door. 

He paused with his hand on the door, turning back to you. “Good night, doll. Sleep well.”

And with a soft click of the door, you were alone. 

————————

Bucky returned to the common room downstairs, hearing the tail end of Yelena’s recount of the afternoon. 

Ava was quick to offer a theory, “did we do a background check on the roommate? Seems like suspicious timing to go on a ‘romantic getaway’.” She raised her eyebrows pointedly at Bucky who dismissed her with a small head shake. 

“Yes. There were no red flags.” Bucky responded gruffly. 

Bob was lying on the floor on his stomach with his head propped on his hands, squinting slightly as he tried to think of other theories. 

“Is she dating anyone? Maybe there’s a connection there,” he suggested, earning himself a glare from Bucky. 

Both woman on the couch behind Bob shook their heads. “No, we asked her about it last week.” Yelena muttered. “She said she’s not seeing anyone.”

That fact pleased Bucky absurdly. 

“Ah, my solnyshko, she’s a smart girl! Not wastin’ her time with silly boys,” Alexei exclaimed from his spot on the armchair—Bucky nodding along, agreeing with the unruly man.

He put his hands on his hips, letting out a deep sigh as he addressed the team.

“It’s because of us, we know that.” A tense silence filled the room, everyone feeling partly to blame for your life being in danger. Bucky continued after a beat, “still, we need to look into everyone we can—find out what stores she frequents, if she walks the same route, if she’s received strange messages on social media.” 

The soldier took charge, barking out orders to his teammates—everyone following his command with no complaint. He finished his drill sergeant routine with one last demand.

“Someone needs to have eyes on her at all times, got it?”

————————

The first week living at the Watchtower was hard to adjust to at first. 

You missed seeing your best friend everyday—she was begrudgingly staying with her parents while the team hunted down whoever broke in—even though you FaceTimed nearly every night. You couldn’t help but feel awkward staying at the tower; fully living with superheroes making you feel self-conscious and even more like a fraud than when you just worked for them. 

You found yourself walking around on your tip-toes, trying to make as little noise as possible to not disturb your new roommates. You tried keeping to yourself for the most part, retreating back to your room when you finished your work for the day, telling everyone you were wiped out from everything—which wasn’t a lie. You were still struggling with mental exhaustion after the break-in, but really you were just afraid of intruding into their lives. They didn’t ask for this, you were just a temporary guest who would be gone shortly. 

Your attempt to keep to yourself was foiled on Thursday evening, when you came out of your bathroom in your pyjamas to find Ava and Yelena lounging on your bed with bowls of snacks.

You felt your heart fly up to your throat, a gasp startling out of you as you clutched your chest in fright. 

“Jesus Christ! What are you two doing in here? Except for trying to give me a heart attack,” you exclaimed at the two woman, both now cackling at your scared response. 

“Oh, come on—we just wanted to spend time with you! No need to huff and puff,” Yelena responded with a teasing smile, patting the empty spot on the bed next to her in invitation. 

“Yelena convinced me to finally watch The Office, you should consider yourself lucky.” Ava contributed, throwing a lolly up in the air and catching it in her mouth. 

You fell asleep with your head on Yelena’s shoulder, exhausted from laughing and the sugar high crash. 

Yelena’s phone vibrated in her hand, Ava and her both smirking at the who the text was from.

Bucky: All good?

She angled her phone screen towards your sleeping form, snapping a selfie of you to send to the super soldier. 

Yelena: Yeah, she’s good. 

Bucky: Good. Thanks. 

The hardest thing to adjust to living in the tower was Bucky. He was everywhere. Every time you turned a corner, there he was—watching you with those sharp, unwavering blue eyes. He rarely went on missions, choosing to stay at the tower to chase down another dead end on your intruder. He assured you the team didn’t need him out on the field, they could manage without him. But really, he just wanted to keep an eye on you himself. 

He sat in the kitchen with you while you ate your lunch, not saying a word and not leaving until you cleaned your plate. You often found a vibranium hand shoving a glass of water in your face when you had gone an hour without a sip. 

“Gotta stay hydrated, doll.” Fuck him and his stupid Brooklyn accent. 

Your heart couldn’t cope with both his attention and the goddamn accent that was more prominent in the morning, slurred and raspy as he’s still waking up.

And what was with him calling you doll. Currents of electricity prickle your skin whenever he says the damned pet name—and when he says it with those soft eyes and faint smile? You think you might spontaneously combust. 

You thought working in close proximity to him every day was torture—living with him felt like hell. A sweet, brooding, muscle filled hell that had you screaming into your pillow, wanting to bang your head against the wall.

You felt even more frustrated than the week before, your body vibrating with pent-up tension that begged to snap every time you ogled Bucky’s shoulders—the arm. You were able to excuse your shaking leg, worried bottom lip, and stiff shoulders on post break-in anxiety. The prolonged gazing at the vibranium arm though? Yeah, you couldn’t blame that on anything.

Shuffling into the kitchen after midnight on your seventh night in the tower, you came to a halt in the doorframe. You rubbed your eyes, your brain not believing what you were seeing. Bucky was leaning against the kitchen sink bare-chested, sweatpants dangerously low on his hips, his eyebrows furrowing at the tablet in his right hand. His vibranium arm missing. 

Heat flared though you at the sight, desire stirring low in your belly. This was your worst nightmare and your sweetest wet dream.

Your eyes travelled the expanse of his broad muscular chest, your gaze catching on the dog tags hanging from his neck. 

The sound of the dishwasher finishing snapped you out of the trance Bucky’s chest had you in. He turned, putting the tablet on the counter next to the sink before opening the dishwasher and grabbing his vibranium arm. 

With his back turned to you, you watched in a daze as he lifted the arm to the shoulder socket. You held your breath as the arms circuitry gently hummed, a subtle click echoing in the quiet kitchen as he reconnected it seamlessly. His vibranium fingers twitched before he rotated his shoulder, spinning the arm in a fast circle to ensure smooth recalibration.

The breath you were holding punched out of you in a sharp gasp, your brain short-circuiting at what you just watched. 

What the fuck. 

Bucky knew it was you coming out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He smelt you before he heard you, your sweet scent wafting down the hallway—beckoning him towards you. He resisted the temptation, keeping his feet planted next to the dishwasher, waiting for his arm to finish cleaning. 

Only a couple more minutes.

He kept his eyes glued on the screen in his hand, barely taking in the security footage he was meant to be analysing. He watched from the corner of his eye as you stopped in the doorway, partially hidden in the shadows. Not hidden enough for his sanity—he could still make out the shape of your bare legs, his grip tightening around the tablet at the sight of your soft, plush thighs. His dick stirred at the thought of touching your smooth skin. Get a grip, Barnes.

The sound of the dishwasher finishing saved him from his dangerous, wandering mind. He grabbed the arm, reattaching it in a practiced manner that had become second nature. His shoulders pulled taut as he heard a little gasp sound out from your spot in the shadows, his head turning just in time to catch you hightailing it back towards the elevator.

At least he didn’t have to worry about you clocking his semi-hard dick twitching in his sweats.

You leaned back against the door once you were in the safety of your room, your chest heaving like you had run a marathon. You muttered out a string of curses, a feeling of hopelessness crashing down on you. You felt like crying—this wasn’t fair. The control he had over you—your reactions—rendered you powerless, reduced to a puddle at the simple act of him reconnecting his arm. 

It wasn’t just that you were physically attracted to him—no, that would’ve been a lot easier. He was a genuinely good guy. Kind, caring, furiously protective of those he loves. His Winter Soldier past didn’t scare you—he went through something unimaginable, you couldn’t even begin to comprehend the pain he’s felt. He could’ve sat with the pain, the anger—let it control him and take the rest of his life away. Instead he made amends, put in the hard fucking work and learned how to live with his trauma and not let it haunt him. 

You saw the little cracks in his rough exterior, the vulnerability slipping through his hard shell. The lines of exhaustion next to his eyes, the faraway look as a memory resurfaced. The late night trips to the kitchen when the nightmares refused to let him sleep.

It only made your heart yearn for him more—you wanted to see the soft Bucky who let his guard down. You craved to be by his side, maybe help take some of the weight of the world off his shoulders. 

Living with your crush—your boss—fucking sucked.

“Fuck it,” you whispered into the quiet of your room. 

You didn’t care about the promise you had made to yourself when you moved in a week ago. You didn’t care if your enhanced spy roommates heard you. You didn’t care about anything but the hunger overtaking your body, dampening your underwear.

You settled into the rumpled duvet on your bed, your hand wasting no time slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You let out a breathy sigh as you felt the wet patch blooming on your underwear, your fingers gently pressing against it. 

He didn’t even say a word to you and here you were, needy and aching for him.

There was already a ball sitting heavy in your core—dormant, waiting for you to light the fuse. It sparked alive beneath your desperate fingers, sending flares of warmth through your veins. You pressed harder on the wet patch, the fabric catching on your sensitive clit—a small whine bubbling in your chest at the sensation. 

You continued to tease yourself, not stopping your movements until your underwear was completely soaked. Slick dripped down your ass, staining your shorts and the duvet underneath you. You failed to care about anything but the need for release, shaky breaths and barely audible whines filling the air as you pleasured yourself.

You finally dipped your fingers beneath your soiled underwear, gasping at the wet heat leaking from you. You circled a fingertip around your neglected hole, your body shuddering and hips jerking instinctively. Your other hand joined in, circling your aching clit that was begging for attention. A small moan escaped past your lips at the dual stimulation.

You squeezed your eyes tight as you pushed a single finger into your weeping core, a stuttered whine filling the room—you were pulsing, your core clenching with the pent-up desperation you had been feeling for weeks. You moved your finger slowly, rubbing it along your walls trying to find that special spot—wishing it was cold vibranium filling you instead. The fingers on your clit sped up at the thought, the feeling in your core building higher as you imagined it was Bucky’s fingers making you feel good. 

Soft, squelching noises emanated from your core, your urgent hands working yourself harder. The noises were almost imperceptible. Almost. You would’ve been embarrassed if it weren't for the primal need to come thrumming throughout your body, coiling deep in your belly. 

You were so close. Your back arching against the bed, mouth falling open with pants of “please” slipping freely. The finger in your pussy was thrusting harder, trying to hit your g-spot but still not reaching. The pleasure blooming in your chest started to morph into frustration, your hands cramping from exertion. You were so close. A pained groan vibrated up your throat as you felt your high slip through your fingers. 

“No, please, I’m so close,” you whimpered into the darkness, begging your body to grant you the release you desperately needed. You shifted your fingers slightly, hoping a change will bring the pleasure back. 

Nothing. You felt the warmth leave your body, shivering as the cold air in the room brought you back to reality. A single frustrated tear ran down your cheek as you pulled your hands away, the ruined orgasm gripping your chest painfully. You turned on your side, burrowing your face in the pillow and let out a single, small, annoyed scream. You wanted to cry.

Bucky felt the shift in the air the moment he stepped off the elevator. Your scent was bleeding through the walls, drifting from under your door and wrapping around him. The sweetness had reached intoxicating levels—he couldn’t focus on anything else. 

He lingered by the elevator, his body screaming at him to turn left instead of right—to walk towards your door instead of his own. He felt his hand start to sweat as your scent grew stronger, filling the hallway in a thick musk he could almost see. He inhaled deeply, pulling more of you into his lungs—an error on his part as his chest rumbled with a hungry growl. Saliva started to pool in his mouth, his vibranium arm whirring with barely contained restraint.

His body knew what was happening before his brain caught up, his enhanced hearing picking up a little gasp—unmistakably yours. 

His super soldier hearing focused on the noises behind your door without his permission. Everything faded around him as he listened to your small breathy whines, his semi-hard dick now straining against his sweats—fully hard and starting to leak.

Underneath your needy whines was a soft wet sound that had his brows furrowing. And then it finally clicked.

You were touching yourself.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. 

He felt the vein in his temple pulse, his jaw clenched in pain, his hands in fists so tight they were shaking. He had to go to his room. Now.

His feet disobeyed him, your noises and scent keeping him frozen in the hallway. He shouldn’t be listening to this, shouldn’t be listening to you in your most intimate and vulnerable state. 

Your needy pleas lured him closer—a hungry, primal instinct clawing at his chest, urging him to kick your door down and give you what you were desperately begging for. 

“No, please, I’m so close,” your whimper crawled under the closed door, embedding itself into his ears. His heart lurched at the desperation and pain in your voice—he could help you, make you feel better than anyone else could. 

A small sniffle and muffled, frustrated scream brought him out of his lust-filled daze, like ice water had been poured over him. The hallway came back into focus as he hastily turned on his heels, shame coursing through him as he slipped into his room quietly. 

He paced back and forth, berating himself for listening to you. For indulging in the fantasy of you on your back, aching and pleading for him. Berating himself for the raging boner that was pulsing at the thought of you, the sounds you were making in the solace of your room. 

He pulled at his hair, his scalp protesting from the sharp tug. His chest was heaving, sweat slicking the skin—the sounds you made replaying in his head like sweet torture.

Touching himself was out of the question—it would cross a line, a professional line, and he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to take it back. 

He stood in his shower recounting horrible memories while his skin stung under the freezing cold water. He had been in the cold shower for at least 30 minutes, replaying the worst moments of his Winter Soldier past in the hopes they would distract him from you.

He left the bathroom still half hard, exhaustion and defeat weighing down his shoulders. He didn’t understand it—why is body wouldn’t listen to him, why he couldn’t regain full control of his reactions. He flopped on his bed, covering his face with his hands and letting out a prolonged groan. 

He tried to blame it on the fact he hadn’t gotten laid in a couple years. He was just insanely wound tight—the sounds of anyone getting off would’ve made him react like this…right? It had nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing. Definitely not.

His mind wandered more as he willed sleep to rescue him from this torture—hell, he would prefer his usual nightmares over this.

He shot up from his bed, a possessive rage overwhelming his body so quickly it scared him. What if someone else heard you?

His breathing turned ragged at the thought. Walker was in the room right across from yours. If he wasn’t asleep he would’ve heard the same things Bucky had. He felt sick at the thought—hated that John might’ve been witness to the same vulnerable side of you that he had. He huffed out a growl, already imagining the godawful things John would say to you. 

That’s it. Walker was being kicked out come morning. 

————————

The next morning you were on the balcony, seated in the hanging egg chair while reading a book. Well, trying to read a book—you had reread the same paragraph four times, your brain struggling to focus after a restless night. 

“You should lock your door,” came a voice from the open balcony door. You jumped slightly, still not used to the spies you live with sneaking up on you.

Yelena was leaning against the doorframe, an iced latte in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other. She held them out for you to grab, a bored expression on her face.

“I don’t need to lock it, I trust the team—what’s this for?” You replied, questioning the food she was holding out to you with a frown. 

The blonde sighed, exasperated. “It’s late breakfast—hurry up and eat. We need to get going.” She shoved the food into your hands impatiently, grabbing the book from you and skimming the pages while you ate hesitantly.

You took a gulp of the iced coffee, smiling at the fact she got your order right. Your smile quickly dropped as she peered at the book with more interest, her eyes widening slightly.

“So, you like romance books.” It wasn’t a question. You felt panic shoot through you at the growing smirk on her face.

You snatched the book out of her hands, your cheeks heating up and jaw dropping slightly as you read what she had.

She had flipped to a random page halfway through the book when you were only a few chapters in. The page was pure filth—detailed descriptions of the knight chasing the princess through a forest, pinning her against a tree and whispering the dirtiest things in her ear as he fucked her relentlessly, ignoring her pleas for him to slow down. 

“I—that’s not—” you stuttered out. “I haven’t read that part yet…” you trailed off in a small voice, finding the balcony floor utterly fascinating.

A soft chuckle had you lifting your head tentatively. Yelena’s smirk had softened, her eyes full of fondness as she took in your clearly embarrassed state.

“Relax, I’m not judging. Was gonna ask if I could borrow it after you’ve finished.” She paused, her roaming eyes taking in the exhaustion lining your face. 

“You okay?” She asked softly, worried. 

Your heart bloomed at her concern. “I’m fine, had a rough sleep.”

She nodded once before grabbing your breakfast and walking back into your room.

“Come on,” she yelled over her shoulder. “You can eat on the way. Ava and Bob are downstairs waiting for us.”

You scrambled after her, grabbing your shoulder bag and jumping around your room trying to get your shoes on. You briefly glanced in the mirror on your way out, deeming your current outfit as acceptable for spring in New York.

“Waiting for us? Where are we going?” You questioned Yelena, rushing after the spy who was halfway to the elevator. 

She whipped the New Avengers credit card out of her pocket, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “We’re taking you shopping!”

Ava and Bob were waiting in the downstairs foyer, matching iced coffees in their hands. You were slightly surprised at Bob joining the girls shopping trip.

You exchanged brief hellos with the two of them, surprised again when Ava pulled you into a tight hug.

“Bob, please don’t take this the wrong way…but why are you joining us?” You questioned the man with one raised brow.

He didn’t take offence, chuckling slightly and shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not the first time—I like hanging with you girls, beats being stuck in the tower with moody super soldiers who have complicated histories.”

“Besides,” he continued. “I want to buy more books.”

You started off with replacing your wardrobe essentials, feeling a bit upset over the fact you had to replace anything. The other three caught on immediately, catching the tired sighs and frown on your face as you browsed racks.

Ava gently grabbed your hand, pulling you across the store to the more expensive, more lush clothing. 

“Go hard, girl. You deserve it.” She squeezed your hand once before turning to a silk blouse and running her hand along it. “Now this—you are definitely trying this on.” 

Bob and Yelena came over, joining Ava in picking items off the rack and throwing them on the growing pile in your hands. Bob surprisingly had good taste, you understood why the girls brought him along.

The dressing room was completely empty—thanks to Yelena bribing the store manager to close the store for you—and half of the New Avengers were chanting at you for a fashion show, mimosas in their hands.

This was absolutely ridiculous. How the hell were you now clothes shopping with superheroes cheering you on?

You felt self-conscious at first—you didn’t like being the centre of attention, didn’t like people staring at your body purposely—but it was hard to stay hidden in your shell with three very attractive people hyping you up.

Bob clapped every time you stepped out of the stall, Yelena whistled loudly and told you to spin every time—lightly slapping your ass in really flattering jeans once—, and Ava made appropriate helpful comments. Well, mostly appropriate. 

“Ten out of ten, I would bang.” Yelena hummed her agreement, nodding as she sipped her mimosa.

“Do you only date men?” You laughed, caught off guard before returning to the stall with red cheeks.

“Not a flattering colour—next one.” You respected the honesty.

“I’m sorry but I’m only looking at your boobs right now.” Bob choked on his virgin mimosa at that.

Each time you returned to the stall feeling more confident, a large smile on your lips as you checked yourself out in the mirror. 

You weren’t expecting the jaw-dropped reaction all three had when you stepped out in the first dress. It was a little out of your comfort zone, showing more skin than you were used to and hinted at the curves you kept hidden.

“What?” You asked, nervously rubbing your hands along the soft cotton. “Does it look that bad?” You started to gnaw on the inside of your cheek. You thought it looked good.

Yelena got over her shock first.

“No! No, no, no, no. It looks—you look amazing.” She looked at the other two who had composed themselves, worried they made you feel bad. 

“Seriously, you look great. I think we’re all just a little…surprised.” The other two hummed. “We’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

The reassurance put you at ease. “Oh! Right. Yeah, I don’t like wearing them at work.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Go! I want to see more,” Ava waved her hand at you, motioning towards the stall.

You heard a low mutter from Yelena to the others. “…he’s not going to cope with that.” 

Every dress you tried on made you feel good, and the reactions from your friends made you feel even better. Your cheeks hurt from constantly smiling at their antics, your skin permanently flushed at their endless compliments, your stomach sore from laughing at their bickering. 

Finally, you got to the dress you were most excited to try on. The dark green grabbed your eye immediately, the satin smooth along your fingertips. The lace trim along the chest and the short length were more daring than you would usually go for, but you felt it calling to you.

Trying it on in the stall you were taken aback by your reflection. You looked really good. Like, you don’t think a dress has looked better on you. 

Yelena let out a long, low whistle as you stepped out. Ava motioned her head exploding as she looked you up and down multiple times. Bob looked at you quickly before darting his eyes away, holding two thumbs up in your direction.

“You’ve been hiding all this from us?” Yelena asked incredulously. “You’re buying one in every colour—that’s an order.” She shared a conspicuous look with the other two before adding, “I think Barnes would agree with me on that.”

Bob snorted loudly, trying and failing to cover it with a cough.

Ava had a sly smirk on her face, nodding and humming at Yelena’s comment.

You narrowed your eyes at the trio, trying to figure out what they were insinuating.

“…okay, whatever that means.” 

Your eyes bulged at the total your shop came to—it was way more than one weeks pay, and the New Avengers paid you well. Yelena didn’t care, handing the card over before you could protest.

“One last stop and then we’ll go home. Bob, time for you to go look for books!” Bob rolled his eyes at Yelena shooing him away. He grabbed as many bags out of your arms as he could before crossing the road to the old bookstore on the corner.

The girls led you down the street before stopping in front of Victoria’s Secret. Right, you needed to replace majority of your underwear too. Cool.

You felt comfortable with them, but the repressed virgin in you was nervous to be lingerie shopping with them. 

They let you do your thing for the most part. They browsed for themselves for ten minutes, keeping an eye on you at all times—Bucky’s orders.

They slowly drifted over as you approached the racks of matching sets, drawn towards a delicate lace set.

“That would suit your complexion well,” Ava offered casually, holding up a set for herself squinting and then putting it back on the rack.

“Mmm. That set would look good with your hair,” Yelena nodded towards a satin set on your left.

You picked it up, tilting your head considering it before returning it.

“Not like anyone’s ever going to see it,” you muttered absentmindedly, scrunching your nose up at a hot pink cheetah print set. Not your thing.

The two woman stilled at your words, sensing bitterness in your tone.

“What do you mean by that?” Yelena asked.

You froze as you realised your tiny slip up. Of course they picked up on it, they’re goddamn spies.

“I mean, because like—I’m staying at the tower! Can’t really bring anyone home,” you chucked awkwardly, neck and cheeks flushing. 

You refused to make eye contact with either of them, grabbing a few sets before moving over to the section of slips and babydolls.

They followed, curious at your rambling. 

“I thought you said you weren’t dating?” Ava asked, adding a navy babydoll to the pile she was collecting for you.

“Yeah, no, I’m not. It was just a silly comment. You know, dry spell and all that,” you waved a hand dismissively.

Both women relented their questioning, humming in agreement.

“Oh yeah, we get that. Bit hard to find time to date when you’re saving the world,” Ava chuckled. 

They hung back as you looked around more, appreciating the breathing room.

Yelena looked at Ava serious, unyielding. “We are not dropping this. Next post-mission drinks, the three of us are having a wine night in my room.”

Ava nodded, expression just as serious. “Agreed. She’s too vague, I need to know more.”

Yelena snickered, a thought crossing her mind as she eyed the abundance of lace and silk in your hands. “If you think about it, technically Barnes is paying for her lingerie—it’s his signature on the credit card.”

Ava smacked her arm lightly with wide elated eyes. “That’s so good. Make sure you mention that to him, I want to see him squirm.” The both of them started cackling, relishing at the thought of teasing the Winter Soldier. 

————————

The three of you returned to the Watchtower to find Bob waiting in the common room, your shopping bags on the couch next to him. 

He raised his eyebrows at the amount of bags you had in your hands. “Damn, should we expect an angry call from Val? That’s a lot of shopping.”

Your cheeks went bright red, terrified that the big bad boss was going to hunt you down for splurging on lingerie. “You guys told me to not worry about—oh my god, she’s totally going to kill me! What the fuck guys?” You started to spiral, eyes wide with fear.

“Hey, no you’re fine—Bob was just joking. Weren’t you, Bob?” Yelena glared at him as she rubbed your shoulders soothingly. 

“Yes—yep! Totally joking!”

The conversation trailed off as John walked in from the kitchen clutching an ice pack against his right eye, his bottom lip cut and bleeding. He looked awful.

Yelena let out a low whistle at him, “looks like you fought a bear and lost.”

John rolled his eyes, wincing as the small movement pulled on his injuries. 

“If by bear you mean Barnes, then yeah. Dude had something to prove today—he was not pulling his punches at all.”

Yelena’s eyes darted to you briefly before she stepped towards him. She slowly muttered, voice low and serious, “what did you do.”

“Nothing! Why do you always think I did something?” John brushed her off. He looked past her to the rest of the room before his eyes fell on you.

His eyes going up and down your body made you want to disappear. You crossed your arms over your chest, his eyes darting to the shopping bags in your hands. You watched in slight horror at the wicked smile that stretched his lips, the cut on his bottom lip bleeding more. 

“Oh, princess,” he chuckled shaking his head mockingly, like a predator about to pounce. You felt sick. 

“You know just how to make me feel better. How about you give me a little show and tell of what you bought? Somewhere private, just the two of us.” 

You flinched in disgust at Walker, stepping back instinctively. Shocked tears welled behind your eyes—why would he say something like that?

In the blink of an eye, Alexei appeared behind Walker, gripping the back of his neck harshly. He jerked Walker’s head back, hissing into his ear. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Yelena kneed Walker in the balls, hard. The man dropped to his knees, howling as Yelena took another shot. 

“That’s why I think you did something! What is wrong with you?” She seethed through clenched teeth, outraged at what Walker had said to you.

Bob was at your side by this point, resting a gentle arm on your shoulder, his fingers tracing soft comforting circles. He showed his repulsion at John’s words, his face scrunched in disbelief. “What the hell, man. That was uncalled for.”

Bucky stilled as John’s voice drifted down the hallway to the gym. He was paused mid-action, reaching up to hang his third punching bag in the last hour. The bag dropped heavy on the floor as Bucky stormed down the hall towards John. Towards you.

His teeth were clenched hard, the pain radiating up to his eyes. He could only see red. Could only feel a bloodthirsty anger taking control of him. He should’ve knocked Walker out during their sparring session. 

Rounding the corner into the common room his eyes fell on you instantly. Arms wrapped around your torso, shrinking towards Bob—trying to hide yourself. 

Bucky was on John in a flash, wrapping his vibranium fist around the man’s neck before slamming him into the wall. 

John grabbed the arm around his neck as he choked slightly, eyes wide with fear as he looked at Bucky. He has never seen Bucky this angry before. His eyes were narrowed slightly, dark and shining wild, dangerously. The vein in his forehead was bulging and his neck was a dark red with barely contained restraint.

Walker held his hands up slowly, preferring to surrender than deal with the beast Barnes was seconds from unleashing.

The older man leaned in slowly, his voice a low growl. “Apologise to her. Now.”

Walker swallowed nervously, his throat straining under the vibranium hold. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay—I was just teasing! Honestly, that was wrong—I’m sorry, princess.” He started to panic as Bucky’s hand gripped tighter, “I promise I won’t say anything like that again—I swear!”

Bucky didn’t believe him, refusing to let go until your voice called out behind him softly.

“Bucky, you can let him go. I’m okay.” He turned his head slightly, seeing you standing closer to him than before—no longer hiding next to Bob. 

His eyes bore into yours, scanning. He could only find a sincere warmth in your expression—no anger, no fear.

He let go of John’s neck, glowering at him as he scrambled to leave the room.

“Stop calling her princess. She doesn’t like it,” Bucky’s booming voice ordered John.

“Yes, sir!” And with that John bolted towards the elevator down the hall. 

You watched in a slight daze as Bucky walked towards the couch to grab all your shopping bags. He nodded towards Ava and Yelena, motioning them to hand him the bags of yours they were holding. 

He walked towards you slowly, his eyes searching your face for any unease. Satisfied that you appeared mostly okay, he rested his right hand gently on the small of your back. 

“Big day, huh?” He murmured, trying to lighten the mood as he guided you towards the elevator. 

You let out a breathy chuckle, “yeah, you could say that. I think I need a nap now.” 

You walked in silence down the hall, both of your minds whirring with what just happened. Bucky opened your door before letting you in first—always the gentleman. 

He placed the shopping bags on the ground next to your bed, trying to ignore the sweet sounds from the night before replaying in his head as he briefly glanced at the bed. Your scent was surrounding him and he felt like a drug addict taking a hit after years sober. 

His eyes scanned the rest of the room, noticing the little things you had done to make it your own. The photo on the bedside table caught his eye, the one of you and your best friend mid-laugh. You looked happy—head thrown back, eyes squinted with joy, large breathless smile on your face. He wanted to see you like that—to make you laugh like that. 

He found himself looking at the photo Yelena sent him of you sleeping more often than he’d ever admit. He didn’t save it to his phone—no, that would be creepy—instead he scrolled through their texts every time he wanted to see you. 

You moved behind him, putting the Victoria’s Secret bags on the bed—unintentionally drawing his attention to the bags, to what might be in them. 

He felt his blood rushing south—the image of whatever you bought and the sounds you made last night playing on a loop in his head.

I’m no better than Walker, he thought as he focused all his super soldier strength on calming himself down.

You sat down on the bed to start taking off your shoes, oblivious to the turmoil you were inadvertently causing the man. 

You looked up at him hesitantly before asking, “how did you know I don’t like him calling me princess? I don’t think I’ve mentioned it…” You trailed off.

It’s all your brain could focus on—well that, and how fucking hot Bucky looked pinning Walker to the wall. Yeah, you know you’ll be thinking about that a lot. 

But you were curious—you were so sure you didn’t mention your dislike of the nickname to anyone, not even the girls. 

Bucky sighed, shoving his hands in his front pockets with a shrug. “I could see it on your face whenever he said it. You looked uncomfortable.” He tried to play it off casually, like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal to you—that he paid enough attention to notice that you hated the nickname. Or at least, hated when John called you it.

“I’m sorry he said that shit to you, doll. I don’t know why he would—you don’t deserve to be spoken to like that.” Your breath hitched at the earnest look in his eyes, almost pleading.

“He can sleep in the med bay—on the street, for all I care. He’s not coming near you.” The protective rasp in his voice had your heart soaring. Fuck, he was hot. 

You took a slow breath in to calm your nerves, feeling worked up from how caring and attractive he was being. 

“Thank you, Bucky. I’m okay—it’s not the worst thing I’ve heard,” that didn’t make him feel any better. 

“I just wasn’t expecting him—someone I work with—to say something like that.” You looked down at your hands, nervously picking at the skin around your nails. Your voice grew quieter, “I feel weird that he lives across the hall, you know?”

Bucky crouched down in front of you, placing his flesh hand on top of your fidgeting ones. He looked at you with an intense expression—sharp jaw clenched tight, brows set in a hard line, blue eyes steely. 

“I’ll make Yelena swap rooms with him. I don’t want you feeling scared here. We’re meant to be protecting you, doll.” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear gently with his vibranium hand—a stark contrast to the hand choking John not even ten minutes ago.

You leaned your head towards the hand subconsciously—barely an inch.

He stood up like he had been shocked, clearing his throat before walking towards the door. He stopped, gave you a brief wave and closed the door behind him.

————————

“We’re still on for Friday night, right?” 

It was Wednesday night and you were FaceTiming your best friend while you were getting ready for bed. 

The tower had recovered after John’s inappropriate comments on Sunday—he stayed away for a couple nights and came back with apology gifts for everyone, promising he would stop being a creep. You believed him for the most part—there was an inherent creepiness to Walker that you don’t think he would ever be rid of. Still, you appreciated that he was trying.

It helped that Bucky had kept true to his word and ordered Yelena to swap rooms with John. Now it was a little girls corner with Yelena opposite you and Ava right next to you—you felt safe. This place was starting to feel more like home. 

The team sat you down before you finished work earlier to give you an update on the break-in. The update was that there was no update—they had hit dead ends with all their leads and there was nothing new to go off. You were disappointed, not in the team but at being away from your best friend—your home—for longer. You only left the tower when joining someone on a coffee run and you were getting major cabin fever. 

You dreaded having to give your friend the news that there was no news. She took it how you expected—dramatic sighs, eye rolling, complaining on where her tax money was going. She found a silver lining quickly, though. She had moved out of her parents place a week ago—they were having too many arguments and she couldn’t cope—and was now staying with her boyfriend. And from what she spent over an hour telling you, they were having great sex. A lot of it. 

You frantically grabbed your headphones from your bag when her voice rang out in your quiet room. “He made me come hard from just sucking my ni—.” God, you hoped no one heard that. You had become used to her sharing explicit details about her sex life, but it still made the virgin in you get both uncomfortable and insanely jealous. 

“What’s on Friday?” You asked her, rubbing moisturiser over your face and neck.

“We were gonna go out for my birthday? I couldn’t get Saturday night off work so we talked about going to karaoke on Friday instead…” Your friends voice came through your phone, her tone showing her hurt at you forgetting.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Shit…I am so sorry—with everything going on I completely forgot.” You opened your eyes and watched her shoulders deflate through the screen. You felt horrible for forgetting and letting her down—it wasn’t just your life that had been uprooted, she lost her apartment and stability too. 

She huffed grumpily, “they keep you locked away in that tower like Rapunzel—there’s no way they’ll let you come out!” She cried out, clutching her chest like she was in pain. “I need this so badly. I miss us so much—we haven’t drunk wine and gossiped for weeks.” She sniffled and ran a hand under her eye, acting like she was crying.

Despite her dramatics you really did want to go out. It had been months since you went out dancing with her and you needed a night to let loose a little. Determination surged through you—you were going to make Friday night happen.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan. I’ll convince them it’s safe—don’t worry, we’re still going out on Friday.” You assured your friend.

After your phone call ended you flicked Ava and Yelena a text.

Y/N: I have a favour to ask you both. Please. 

Two minutes later you heard sharp knocks on your door before it opened, Yelena and Ava rushing inside. 

“What’s wrong?” Ava asked as she sat next to you on the bed, Yelena sitting on your other side.

You smiled slightly, touched by their concern. “Nothing’s wrong, I just need some help.”

Their shoulders eased slightly, both nodding at you to continue.

“So, it’s my best friend’s birthday this weekend and I completely forgot we made plans weeks ago to go out, and now with everything going on I don’t know if Bucky will let me go—I really need to go, I’ve been such a shit friend to her lately—and I need you two to convince him it’s safe and I’ll be fine!” You took in a deep breath after your explanation. 

Ava glanced hesitantly at Yelena—she was fairly certain Barnes would punch them both for suggesting you go out without protection.

Yelena smirked in response—she knew she could guilt trip him into letting you go. “Don’t you worry, solnyshko. I’ve got this.”

And she was right. After telling Barnes he was taking your youth away, keeping you as a prisoner, ruining your friendship with your best friend—that was a low blow, she’ll admit—, he finally conceded to Yelena. But only if she promised she would watch you the whole night—without you knowing.

“I am a highly skilled spy, Barnes. I know how to track a target without detection.” She was offended he even implied you would find out.

“I know. It’s just—I don’t think she’d be happy knowing we followed her,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, uncomfortable letting you go out but more worried you would be upset at them watching your night out with your friend. It felt like they were invading your privacy. 

“She’ll never know.”

————————

You don’t know what Yelena said to Bucky to let you go out tonight but you were not going to question her methods. 

You weren’t exactly enthused about the safety on a night out lesson they gave you earlier, though. You felt like a teenager being lectured by her parents before senior prom. 

“You guys do realise I’m an adult, right? I’ve been out plenty of times before,” you grumbled with your arms crossed, glaring at Bucky on the other side of the common room. 

Sure you had an unhealthy crush on the man, but you were allowed to be annoyed at him when he was treating you like a child. 

Bucky ignored your grumbling, continuing his speech. “Do not let anyone buy you a drink, or leave your drink unattended. Don’t take any random drugs—,”

“Oh, but I can take drugs I recognise?” Your sarcasm ignored by Barnes, again.

“—and no leaving the group you’re with. I’m serious,” he added when your shoulders shook with a laugh. 

“I’ve got it, dad. You just listed the main rules for a night out when you’re a woman,” you raised an expectant eyebrow at Bucky.

He sighed warily, “fine, you can go now. You run into any trouble, you call me right away. Got it?”

It was nearing 8pm and you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup, sitting crosslegged on the floor at your friends boyfriend’s apartment not far from the Watchtower. 

“Why haven’t we been hanging out more? We’re only a few blocks away from each other!” You yelled to your best friend who was curling her hair in the bathroom.

“Because, I’ve been busy working…and having a lot of sex. Besides, you weren’t allowed outside until today!” She yelled back at you, hard to hear over the throwback playlist blaring through the speaker next to you.

“Firstly, ew. Secondly, I have been allowed outside! Maybe only with a chaperone, but progress right?”

She came out of the bathroom, joining you on the floor in front of the mirror. “Yeah, but I don’t really want your superhero chaperones to hear me talk about my sex life.”

You threw a makeup brush at her face lightly, “hmm, it’s almost like you should talk about your sex life less, then.”

She gave your arm a light pinch, “oh, shut up. We both know you love hearing all my stories—you get your action vicariously through me.”

You laughed at her before focusing back on your reflection in the mirror. You were still in your work clothes, having run here straight from the tower after Bucky’s dad lecture. In your bag was the satin lace trim dress you had bought on Sunday.

Your friends boyfriend had left you two alone at the apartment, opting to have beers with his friends before meeting you both after karaoke. The plan was to meet a couple of your old friends from the diner at karaoke, and then go out dancing with his friends. You hadn’t met his friends yet, but you decided to leave that part out when you told the New Avengers the plan. They were already overly protective and you didn’t want to ruin your friends birthday. 

You grabbed the dress out of the bag and headed into the bathroom to get changed. It still fit you the same as when you first tried it on. The satin clung to your curves in all the right places, accentuating your waist and hips, ending just above mid thigh. The lace trim sat flush against your breasts, straining slightly when you inhaled—the new bra you were wearing pushing your chest up more than you were used to. It was formfitting but you still felt like you could breathe, not feeling the instinct to cover your body self-consciously.

Would Bucky like the dress, you pondered. 

You went back into the living room, spinning with a flourish for your friend. 

“Holy shit! Look at you, girl.” Her jaw dropped and you giggled at her reaction, feeling a slight buzz from the glass of wine you had while getting ready. 

“No, but seriously—what the fuck? You look incredible—effortlessly sexy.” She shook her head in disbelief, a cheeky smile forming on her face. “You know, if I didn’t have a boyfriend and we both liked girls I would definitely fuck you.”

Red flushed your cheeks as you tried to control your giggles, happy that you were spending time with your best friend again. 

You stood behind her while you looked in the mirror, pinning your curls in a messy half up half down style. Your friend watched with a small smile on her face, noticing how you glowed more now. 

“I think working for the superheroes suits you—you seem more confident, more comfortable in your own skin.”

Your heart clenched, feeling taken aback that she noticed that—you hadn’t. 

“So, any progress with Bucky vibranium arm Barnes yet?” 

————————

8:45pm

Yelena: Target walking into the karaoke bar now.

9:15pm

Yelena: Good thing she’s cute, she sucks at singing. 

9:45pm

Yelena: I think they’ve been through Rihanna’s whole discography. 

10:15pm

Yelena: Now they’re massacring Avril Lavigne.

10:45pm

Yelena: En route to a rooftop bar. 

11:15pm 

Yelena: At least she can move her hips…

Bucky: And you needed to tell me that, why?

Yelena: Just thought you might like to know. 

You raised your hands above your head, swaying your hips from side to side as the bass from the Calvin Harris song vibrated through your body. The alcohol loosened your movements, helping you escape your head and focus on the atmosphere of the lively bar around you.

Your friend came back to the group, holding a tray of shots for everyone. You knew that it was tequila immediately. Before you could protest, tell your friend she knows how you are with tequila, she gave you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Please, for me? C’mon, it’s my birthday!”

Two rounds of shots later and you were dancing with your friend, her hands on your hips and yours around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics to Buttons in each other’s face with matching grins. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck prickled in awareness—the feeling like someone was watching you washing over your body.

You spun around, scanning the bar for anything suspicious—for anyone looking at you. Your eyes were drawn to a dark corner of the smokers area, squinting to see if there was a figure hiding in the shadows or if it was the bars strobe lights messing with your vision. Nothing. 

You turned back to your friend, feeling on edge and needing another drink. “I’m going to the bar!” You shouted over the music, getting a thumbs up in response.

Yelena watched you walk over to the bar from her spot in the corner, studying your now tense shoulders. She watched as the bartender stopped his conversation with another woman to serve you, flashing you a flirty smile while checking you out. She watched as the woman glared at you stealing the bartenders attention, shoulder checking you hard enough to make you stumble. 

The cogs in Yelena’s brain started to turn, replaying the scene she just witnessed—a woman’s clear jealously over something that wasn’t your fault. She thought about the levels of psychological torture women inflict on each other, how they play games to terrorise their competition. 

The crime scene photos from your apartment flashed in her mind. The destruction, the carelessness screamed male intruder. But the destruction of your journal, your underwear—that screamed intentional psychological torment. The fact someone had put your private musings on display, laid out all your vulnerabilities for anyone to see—only a resentful ex or jealous woman would want to inflict that kind of terror. And from what the team could find out, there were no resentful exes in your past—no exes at all, actually. 

After coming to the realisation that they had been looking for the wrong suspects entirely, Yelena focused her attention back on the bar where you were. Or, had been a couple minutes ago. 

11:48pm

Bucky: What’s going on?

She rolled her eyes at Barnes’ impatience—she was only a few minutes late for her half hour check in.

Her eyes found you near the exit to the bathrooms, back pressed against the wall as a guy leaned into your personal space. She recognised him as one of the guys that joined your group at the bar, but your body language showed you weren’t friendly. Arms crossed over your chest, tense polite smile, body leaning away from him. Clearly you did not want his attention.

11:49pm

Yelena: She’s fine.

Bucky: Fine? Why didn’t you report back on time?

Yelena: Jesus Christ, it was only 4 minutes Barnes! And yes, fine. 

Yelena: Want me to send you a photo of her flirting with some guy? 

Bucky: No. Why the fuck would I want that?

You were on your way to the bathroom when Dean—or was it Derek?—cornered you with a suggestive smile on his face. He was cute enough, total surfer dude vibes—curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, face sprinkled with freckles. 

Normally, a guy like him flirting with you would’ve made you flustered—not believing he would be interested in you—but you had already watched him strike out with two other women in the last half hour. He was just looking to get laid and you were the third choice. A friend of a friend. Safe backup. And you couldn’t help but notice the differences.

His eyes were blue, but not the right blue. They were unsettling, almost unnatural. They weren’t the icy, yet somehow warm, blue that you would feel staring at you across the common room. He was physically fit, but more on the lanky side—his shoulders weren’t much wider than your own. No beefy muscles that tower over you. His face was clean shaven and smooth, no scruffy stubble or fine lines. He was a boy, not a man.

And you wanted a man. A brooding, traumatised, immensely protective man. A man you couldn’t have.

You half-heartedly listened to him brag about his surfing awards—called it—nodding your head at appropriate times while looking for an excuse to leave the conversation.

Your excuse came skipping over with a demand for one more dance before heading home. 

12:15am

Yelena: She’s on her way back to you. 

Yelena: I have a new theory on the intruder. Will debrief the team in the morning. 

————————

Bucky knew something was wrong the second you stepped off the elevator in the common room. He was in the gym—where he usually finds himself when he can’t stop thinking about you—pummelling his fourth punching bag for the night when your perfume, your scent, graced his nose. But, it was different. There was another smell, another scent, overpowering your sweet one. It was harsh, metallic—stinging his nose and leaving a stale taste in his mouth. It smelt like cheap cologne a teenage boy would wear. 

The realisation had him freezing—his muscles pulling taut, jaw clenched achingly tight, a deep burning in his stomach. You had brought someone—a guy—back to the tower. A possessive growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest. 

No. No, you wouldn’t do that.

His feet carried him to the kitchen without his awareness—his mind spiralling about who the fuck you brought home and why Yelena didn’t tell him. Was it the guy she said you were flirting with? The thought made him sick.

The sounds of cupboards banging closed met his ears. And then the sound he had been enraptured with since the first day—soft humming. Your soft humming.

You’re home. You’re safe. 

He focused on his hearing more, trying to pick up any other noises—the shuffling of shoes on the tiles, a deep chuckle, a man’s voice. He could only hear you.

But, that goddamn smell suffocating yours had only gotten stronger and it made it hard for Bucky to control his breathing—to calm down. 

The vein in his forehead was bulging, his neck strained and red, when he got to the door to the kitchen. 

He stopped short, his heart stuttering in his chest and his brain malfunctioning. 

There you were, standing at the kitchen counter with your back turned to him. Quietly humming and gently swaying your hips like you usually do when you’re here alone. He’s seen you do this before, from his spot in the shadows.

But he’d never seen you like this before. Curls messy and frizzy from dancing, hips moving with drunken freedom—like you’re still listening to the music at the bar. 

Tantalising satin and lace embraced your thighs, but he couldn’t appreciate that—not when a stiff, ill-fitting, man’s leather jacket obstructed the rest of your dress. 

A low hiss escaped through his teeth, his fists clenching with the visceral urge to rip the damn thing off of you. Before he could take a step forward, you opened a cabinet above your head reaching up on your tiptoes to grab a glass. 

Bucky watched in pure agony as the jacket lifted, exposing the satin hugging your ass. His blood rushed south as the lace trim inched up your thighs, revealing more of your soft, plush skin to the starved man. 

The show you had unknowingly put on stopped as you stepped back, moving to the sink to fill a glass with water. 

“Good night?” Bucky doesn’t remember opening his mouth, doesn’t remember stepping out of the shadows.

You whirled around in fright, a small scream leaping from your throat. The glass in your hand slipped and smashed on the kitchen tiles, covering your shoes in water and shards of glass.

Before your sluggish, intoxicated mind could comprehend what happened you were lifted in the air, two strong hands gripping your leather and satin covered hips. You were gently placed on the counter behind you, the cold shock of the marble on your bare thighs barely registering. You could only focus on the hands clutching you and the soft blue eyes staring into yours. 

Your heart lurched and your breath stuttered. Bucky.

Looking so devastatingly handsome inches from your face. Dark sweaty strands framing his face, teasing the sharp line of his jaw. Your fingers twitched with the urge to push his hair behind his ear, the want to trail your fingers along his sculpted face multiplying tenfold thanks to the tequila. You felt like you were drowning in his cerulean blues, your body inching towards his unconsciously. Your brain was a foggy haze that could only focus on him. His hands that you wish were on your bare hips, his electric eyes roaming over your features, his lips that looked so fucking enticing. 

“Always so clumsy, doll.” Bucky muttered quietly, his hands squeezing your hips once before taking a step back.

Then, he squatted down. Right between your legs. 

A soft gasp left you at the sight of him kneeling in front of your legs. The alcohol in your system unlocked the flood gates in your mind, the images you had conjured late at night with your hand between your legs surging forward. Your legs shifted open more in response, a liquid heat flowing through your nerves and gathering low in your belly—the coiled ball you were oh so familiar with waking up like an angry beast.

Bucky hated that fucking jacket. It’s all he could think of as he squatted down to clean up the broken glass. He was so close to you, closer than he’s ever been and he couldn’t even appreciate it because that god awful cheap cologne smell was dominating over your intoxicating sweetness. His hands clenched tightly—they were itching with the need to feel your hips through satin, to rip off the leather and burn it so it was just you and him.

He made the mistake of lifting his head to look at you. Sitting above him looking like a dream—lips parted slightly letting out shallow breaths, glazed over eyes dark and dilated, messy curls clinging to your sweat dampened forehead. His eyes helplessly traced down your neck like they had a mind of their own. He couldn’t control when they drifted lower, zeroing in on the frantic rise and fall of your chest. The lace trim of your dress straining against your breasts with every breath in. You looked like sin, like his favourite wet dream.

He snapped his eyes back to the floor with visible effort, the muscles in his face twitching to get more of the sinful view of you above him. His dick twitched in his sweats, the need he felt last week swelling dangerously. 

Just pick up the glass, Barnes. Don’t think about the soft skin right in front of you. Soft, sweet smelling skin.

You managed to find your voice as he looked down, picking up the shards of glass. “Not m’fault,” you mumbled softly. “You snuck up on me.” 

He let out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting your shins and erupting goosebumps all over your body.

“You should pay better attention to your surroundings.” The side of his mouth quirked up in amusement. “Had a bit to drink, doll?” 

The sight of him kneeling at your feet with the mischievous glint in his eyes as he reprimanded you and called you doll. It was too much.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up. Your mouth parted more, letting out a shuddering breath. Wetness leaked from your core and dampened your panties, your thighs clenching together as your pussy throbbed with need. 

A wave of your sweetness broke through the scent of the leather jacket. Bucky’s nostrils flared, instinctively taking in a deep lungful of your smell. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his focus wavered, his hands trembling with the effort to not pull you closer and bury his head in between your thighs. 

The sweet musk surrounded him like fog, stronger than the night he listened to you touch yourself. His brain proved it was his own worst enemy—pulling forth the sounds he had been replaying every night. Your pathetic, desperate little whines. Your breathy, pleading gasps. 

The squeak of the leather jacket as you shifted tore him from his trance, reminding him where he was. In the kitchen, cleaning up glass that was now digging into his clenched hands, blood dotting his flesh palm.

He cleared his throat, trying to focus on the pain in his hand and not the distraction that was you perched pretty on the counter. 

“So? Did you have a good night?” 

“Mhmm,” you hummed, still dazed. “Was fun. Lots of singing and dancing, m’tired now.” He watched as your eyelids drooped sleepily, the alcohol and physical exertion making you slump in exhaustion. 

He stood to his full height, moving over to dispose of the broken glass. 

“Thanks for letting me go,” you slurred slightly, half focused eyes following his movements. 

Bucky tensed at your thanks, shutting his eyes as guilt punched his stomach. Hard. 

“It wasn’t about letting you go,” he spoke lowly, his voice rough with unexpected emotion clogging his throat. “Was only ever about your safety.” 

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly, “I’m always safe.” Your body thrummed at his worry for your safety, the protectiveness lacing his tone. “I made it back home in one piece, didn’t I?” 

Home. Like the tower was where you belonged now. 

He hummed casually, trying not to show how much you calling the tower ‘home’ affected him. 

His eyes drifted back to your figure as he washed the blood from his palm. Possessiveness clawed at his chest at the sight of that goddamn jacket. It didn’t look comfortable at all.

His mouth opened before he could think about what he was saying. “That doesn’t look comfortable,” he nodded towards the jacket at your confused expression. 

Your brows furrowed as you looked down at the jacket, your right hand trailing along the stiff leather covering your waist. 

“Yeah, it isn’t really. Just needed something for the walk home,” his eyes narrowed at your response, prompting you to explain further. “A friend lent it to me before we left the bar.” 

A single disgruntled brow raised on his rugged face. “A friend.” It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling defensive at his tone. The jacket was too stiff, pulling uncomfortably tight across your shoulders and arms. You huffed, dropping your arms to your sides. You felt claustrophobic in the jacket and under his unrelenting gaze.

“Yes, a friend. Friend of a friend, if you want to be specific.”

His right eye twitched slightly, his left hand scrubbing harder at the glass shards embedded in his flesh hand.

“And? What did you give him?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, shooting him an incredulous look. “What did I give him? What’s that supposed to mean, Bucky?” Did he think you slutted yourself out for a goddamn jacket? One that wasn’t even nice? 

That same guilt clenched deep in his gut at the hurtful look on your face. God, he’s really stuck his foot in this one.

“A man doesn’t give a pretty girl his jacket out of the kindness of his heart, doll.” 

You jumped down from the counter on shaky legs, ripping the jacket off your body and throwing it onto the kitchen island forcefully. 

Your eyes blazed with anger at his implication. You completely missed him calling you a pretty girl.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but nothing happened. Not even a kiss,” his shoulders sagged with relief—short lived relief as you opened your mouth again. 

“Is that what you do, James? Act all chivalrous to lure some unsuspecting girl into your bed?”

Your seething anger was completely ignored, his body only registering you calling him James. Even wrapped in malice it sounded so right coming from your lips. He was momentarily frozen, only able to fully absorb the sight of you without the jacket—his eyes stuck on the way your satin dress sensually draped your curves. 

His dick twitched painfully, the combination of the tantalising dress and you saying his first name clouding his rational mind. All he wanted to do was drop to his knees and worship you, drawing out those goddamn needy whimpers and make you gasp out his name.

You took his lapse of silence as your window to leave, stepping past him at the sink to hurry towards the elevator. You were angry at him and yourself—letting yourself get worked up over this man who apparently saw you as easy. Your blood was boiling with arousal and bitterness, the image of him kneeling at your feet still lingering despite your hurt.

Your small stumble as you passed him snapped him out of his dazed lust, his left arm shooting out to grip your hip to stable you. 

“Jesus, that’s not what I meant, doll. I…your generation of men—boys—think they’re entitled to everything. I didn’t—I was worried…worried he took advantage of your kindness.” The fingers on your hip twitched, pressing into the plushness of your hip with a gentle urgency. 

Your mind blanked the second his hand touched your hip. You could feel the cold from his hand through the satin, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing along your skin. You could feel the ridges of the vibranium through the fabric, feel them digging slightly as his grip tightened. It felt like it was branding you—you wanted it to brand you, wanted him to grip you tight enough to leave bruises. 

The hand left your hip before an embarrassing, needy whimper could work its way out of your throat. It sat stuck in your chest, tension coiling under your skin at his simple touch.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You watched him in a daze as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water, then opened the fridge and grabbed a bowl of leftover pasta salad.

The journey to your room was filled with a tense silence. You were a flurry of emotions—the anger towards the man next to you morphing into an insatiable need, your heart yearning at how he was taking care of you in your tipsy state. 

Bucky was dealing with his own onslaught of emotions—the guilt from his insinuation hurting you making him feel sick, vicious jealousy at the thought of other men seeing you look like a fallen angel in that dress, an overwhelming desire to lock you away and keep you for himself.

He opened your bedroom door, ushering you in before putting the water and food on your bedside table. He had to get out before your scent played tricks on him, before it convinced him to stay and claim you as his. 

He looked everywhere but you as you collapsed onto your bed, flopping onto your back with a dazed sigh, your hair fanning out on the white bedspread and looking everything like the sinful angel that you were.

He turned to the door abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides, his shoulders rising and falling with the visible effort to control himself.

“Eat and drink everything before you fall asleep.” His low, commanding voice trembled imperceptibly. “Don’t want you hungover in the morning.” 

You huffed, pulling yourself into a sitting position and grabbed the bowl off the bedside table. “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied that you were following his orders, he left the room without a goodbye. He couldn’t turn around, not when you called him sir like it was another day in the office—like it was your job to take orders from him. Technically it was your job. But his dick didn’t care about that—all it wanted was for you to call him sir while writhing in pleasure underneath him. All it wanted was for you to gasp out James while he finally—finally—tasted the sweet nectar your body has been taunting him with.

He should’ve stayed in the fucking gym.

————————

“You said that you had a new theory on the intruder?”

Snow crunched underneath the weight of tactical boots, the piercing arctic winds whistling through the forest and biting into the New Avengers’ faces. All five of them were trudging through the Northern Canadian wilderness in hunt of a ghost Hydra lab. One that Valentina was adamant they find.

Bucky had woken up to his ringtone grating his ears before 7am, an urgent and steel-toned Val on the other end demanding all five New Avengers find that lab within the next 24 hours. 

“You are essential to this mission, Barnes. No, don’t even think about mentioning the girl. You have a job, a duty. Get to the jet. Now” 

She hung up before he could get a word in. 

Ava debriefed the sleepy team on the jet. “Val heard chatter that there were still active compounds, experiments, whatever at a Hydra lab apparently no one has heard of. Whatever she heard spooked her—she thinks some underground organisation is on their way already, and she does not want them getting their hands on whatever secrets the lab holds.”

Yelena sighed warily, her accent thick this early in the morning. “Be ready for a fight.”

Bucky had heard of the lab—had visited it once. It was one of the few memories that still alluded him, a hazy hint of a memory that he never knew if it was real or not. He had been drugged the whole time there, that he was sure of. What they had drugged the Winter Soldier with to be able to forget, he had no clue—and he was terrified to find out. 

That was why he was essential, as Val put it. She knew he had some vague idea of a location, so here they were: three hours into an uphill hike with no end in sight. 

Yelena had spent over an hour updating them of your night out—like it was a mission report and not her stalking your night out with your best friend. Though, mission reports don’t normally involve Ava and Yelena gossiping so much—especially not about some guy you were flirting with. Bucky was quick to steer the conversation away from that, feeling jealous some other guy had your attention and feeling distressed they were even talking about following you when you had no clue. Even though he was the one to order Yelena to watch over you.

“Oh! Oh, I forgot the best part! She was wearing that little satin dress she bought last week!” Yelena wiggled her eyebrows eagerly at Ava. 

“Holy shit, the one we saw her try on? That sexy little thing? Damn, I’m surprised you only saw one guy flirt with her.” Ava was beyond elated you wore the dress on your night out, but she was over the moon that they were talking about it in front of a clearly seething Bucky—the perfect image of male jealousy, clenched jaw and fists included. 

“Yelena,” he muttered through his clenched teeth. “The intruder?” 

He didn’t need them to remind him of the dress you wore, he had only slept for three hours last night because he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. 

The girls deliberately ignored him, continuing their gossip like it was adamant to the mission. “Well, he was the only one she actually talked to. She was either oblivious to the way men, and some women, looked at her or she wasn’t interested. Either way, looked like she had a great time.” Ava shot Bucky a side-eye, snickering at how much effort it took for him to control his breathing.

He was sick of their shit. “I swear to god, what she wore isn’t important right now—“

“The bartender was definitely interested, he stopped his conversation with some other woman to check her out—“

“Yelena!” Bucky shouted, his anger and jealousy overtaking his usually composed demeanour. 

The blonde woman smirked, subtly nudging Ava—ecstatic that they had broken his composure with a few words about your dress and other men flirting with you.

“Jealous, Barnes?”

Yelena’s pleasure at him losing his shit wasn’t subtle, the shit-eating grin on her face giving away how happy his supposed jealousy made her. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes to regain strength. He was too old for this bullshit.

“The intruder. You said you had a theory. Explain now.” Short, sharp sentences in his low commanding tone.

“Geesh, lighten up old man. I was just getting to that,” Yelena rolled her eyes at Bucky’s grumpiness and avoidance of her teasing. She was just starting to have fun. 

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted…the woman the bartender had been talking to?” Why the fuck was Yelena still going on about this? “She was mad, and I mean mad at Y/N. Shoulder barged her and almost knocked her over,” that had Bucky freezing, his foot almost catching on a tree root hidden under snow. 

“It had me thinking: a jealous woman can be a cruel, malicious beast—they don’t cause physical pain like men, instead they mess with their perceived competitions mind. Psychological torture.” Bucky could see where Yelena was going with this and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it earlier. “The damage done tosolnyshko’s bedroom? Rings more like a woman’s doing than a man’s to me.”

Bucky met her eyes with a wide-eyed stare, impressed with her theory even if the explanation could’ve been cut shorter. Before he could open his mouth to ask follow up questions, Yelena bet him to it.

“I already have Bob reanalysing the security footage from the corner store down the street from her apartment—looks like he has a lead. A woman bought two listening devices the day before the break-in and tried disguising them by buying like $300 worth of unnecessary crap.”

The team had made it to the top of the hill as Yelena finished explaining Bob’s findings, the ground levelling out into a wide expanse of glistening snow and pine trees. A cluster of younger trees in a circle stood out to the team, all of them making their way towards it without discussion. They knew the lab’s door was hidden somewhere beneath the circle. 

————————

You woke up with a dull, dehydrated headache and the tower all to yourself. Bob had flicked you a text to let you know the rest of the team were out on a time sensitive mission and that he had some errands to run. So, you spent a slightly dusty Saturday by yourself trying to read the fantasy book Yelena wanted to borrow. You barely digested the words you read, your mind replaying the night before like delicious torture.

You touched yourself remembering the way Bucky looked kneeling between your legs, you thought about the way his vibranium hand gripped your hip—all while wishing it was that hand rubbing your clit instead of your own. You were so needy, whining loudly knowing no one was home to hear you. Yet, you couldn’t come. Again. You needed more, your body had grown used to your own touch and it just wasn’t enough anymore. 

You deliberated leaving the tower to go back to the crime scene that was your apartment, to grab the vibrator you were too embarrassed to bring to the tower in the first place. Hell, you were ready to walk to the sex shop a couple blocks over when your third ruined orgasm made you sob. Something always stopped you, though. A deep, rough voice in your head telling you to not step a foot out of the tower. 

It was nearing midnight when sleep finally blurred your eyes and relaxed your aching body. The faint sound of footsteps rushing down the hall barely registered through the sleepy haze. Your door slammed open, banging against the wall making you bolt upright in bed—adrenaline coursing though your veins at the sudden noise disrupting your peace. Yelena was standing in the softly lit doorway, looking at you with frantic, wild eyes. She was breathing hard, like she had run up 20 flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator.

“‘Lena?” You muttered sleepily, rubbing your eyes to clear the sleepy haze. “What’s wrong?”

She ignored your question, heading to your dresser to grab warm clothes and shoved them in your arms. “Get changed. We’re going for a walk.”

Her tone was deadly serious, making you pause and follow her instructions with no other questions. Something was definitely wrong.

The late night spring air snuck through the holes in your knit sweater, your arms tightening across your chest in attempt to keep some of the cold out. Midtown Manhattan was busy like it usually was on a Saturday night—groups laughing and clinking their glasses in the bars you passed, couples linking their arms and whispering to each other as they stumbled down the street, a group comforting a crying girl outside a club. Yelena paid them no mind, leading you to a quiet, well-lit park a few blocks from the tower.

She sat down on a bench with a weary sigh, gently grabbing your hands and pulling you down next to her. She held your stare with her own heavy one, weighed down by concern and grudging acceptance. 

“The mission was compromised. Barn—Bucky was exposed to something.”

————————

The bright lights in the Watchtowers medical bay were blinding, causing Bucky to groan in pain as his eyes failed to adjust. His body was burning up, his legs unsteady enough to need the help of Alexei and John to get him from the jet to the medical bay where Val’s team had already prepped for his arrival. Ava didn’t hesitate to call Val when she saw Barnes drop to his knees in the Hydra lab, groaning in agony as the air vents pumped out a gold, shimmering substance. 

Everyone had been in the same lab room, sifting through old files trying to gather as much intel for Val as they could. Everything was fine until Bucky stepped into the room. It was like he had triggered a trap just by his presence; as soon as he placed a foot in the room the air vents hummed awake and hissed the substance directly onto him. The team all watched in shock as the glitter-like substance covered his face, the skin absorbing the chemicals almost immediately. He took in a startled breath—something he regretted in a matter of seconds.

The vents quietened within 30 seconds, seemingly happy that they had hit their intended target. The team sprang into action the second the substance evaporated—absorbed into Bucky. They kept their distance from the panting soldier, worried that the substance would hit them as well. Yelena gathered all the files she could find, her arms full as they made their way through the lab to the exit—Alexei and John hovering near Bucky as he stumbled down the halls, his vibranium hand trailing on the wall to try keep himself steady.

They were halfway through their journey back to the jet when Alexei and John stopped worrying about getting infected and focused on helping their teammate—their friend—as shivers wracked his body. He had tripped over numerous tree roots and rocks already and they couldn’t let him struggle on his own. He grumbled his protests as they put his arms around their shoulders, telling them to keep back or they’d experience the pain he currently was. Nothing happened to them, though.

Yelena was almost done examining the files on the jet when one made her blood run cold. She reread the Russian three times, her brain refusing to accept what the aged papers were telling her.  The substance didn’t have a name, only being referred to as a chemical agent. Designed specifically for Hydra’s Winter Soldiers, modified to weave into each soldiers DNA seamlessly. Bucky had triggered a trap, the air vents were lying in wait for his presence to activate them. The agent had been designed to control the soldiers, to strip them of their rational thinking and force them to give in to their primal biological needs and not stop until their mission had succeeded. Not stop until they had reproduced—breed with a fertile, compatible woman. It was designed for the sole purpose of creating more super soldiers without the need for serum.

Her voice shook as she relayed the information to the team, trying to be both professional and gentle for Bucky’s sake. His reaction was predictable and instantaneous—ripping a seat off the wall and throwing it across the jet, denting the opposite wall and causing the jet to veer to the side from the force. The rest of the ride home was quiet, the sounds of Bucky’s ragged breathing and small pained groans filling the space. 

“I told you to contain and extract, Barnes! Not sample the goddamn shit for yourself!” Val’s infuriated yell made his ears feel like they were bleeding. He hadn’t even made it to the fucking medical bed and she was already berating him. It filled him with a vicious rage he couldn’t tamp down anymore. 

The other super soldiers held his shoulders back as a growl ripped through him, spit flying from his mouth as he hissed at Val. 

“Get the fuck out of my face before I break your neck.” 

John narrowed his eyes when Val showed no emotion to Bucky’s threat—no fear, no surprise—and he knew.

“This was the whole reason for the mission, wasn’t it?” Walker’s voice raised above the sound of Bucky’s growls. “You wanted us to retrieve this goddamn agent—no, sex pollen—and for what?!”

Val finally showed a lick of fear—intimidated by the two fuming super soldiers. “Look, I didn’t know it’s exact nature but I knew it would only affect Barnes—no one else was in danger.”

“And that somehow makes this fine? Look at Bucky! He can’t even stand up by himself!” Ava cut in, furious that Val was trying to rationalise this.

Val raised her hands and took a step back towards the door. “He won’t die…he’ll just wish he was dead if he doesn’t do what the agent wants. I suggest you make some calls.” And with that, she turned and left the medical bay. 

Two male lab techs hesitantly approached Bucky once he was sat on the medical bed, telling him they needed to run some tests but didn’t touch him until he gave a slight nod.

After confirming that there wasn’t a risk of contamination and Bucky’s body had fully absorbed the agent, the lab techs led the team to a containment room down the hall—set up like a bedroom, but reinforced to contain whatever beast the agent was rearing to release.

No glass walls, no cameras, just a vitals monitor on the exterior wall next to the door—an illusion of privacy. Bucky was starting to feel like a caged animal, like he was once again not in control of his mind or body. He was a puppet in the hands of Hydra, again.

The team were lingering in the doorway once Bucky was sat on the bed, stuck between retreating for their own safety and wanting to help him in some way. He took in a deep breath, ready to assure his teammates that he’ll tough it out and survive this torture on his own. And then the smell hit him, and whatever he was thinking of saying vanished.

The monitor outside the room started to beep rapidly, indicating Barnes heartbeat was rising—fast. The team exchanged worried glances before looking back at him, looking seconds away from unraveling. Sweat was beading on his hairline, a few drops trailing down his face and dripping onto his shirt. His chest was rising and falling erratically—taking in deep ragged breaths that only seemed to cause him more pain. And there was no missing the raging boner in his medical issued sweats. It looked fucking painful.

“Yelena,” he managed to growl out through clenched teeth. “I can smell her. Get her out of the tower, now.” His voice trembled with restraint, using every ounce of willpower he had left to not find her and do what the agent wanted.

Everyone knew who Bucky was talking about, they knew that what they had been watching unfold between the two of you over the past month was going to explode dangerously if they didn’t do something about it. Yelena ushered everyone out of the room, closing the door behind her and activating the deadbolt locks.

Now, here she was—trying to explain the sensitive situation to you, who looked like a deer in headlights with your wide shocked eyes.

“So—wait, what? How does that, what does that even mean? I can’t stay in the tower because he—because he can smell me?” You whispered in disbelief.

“It’s more than that, Y/N. The agent is stripping all his rational thought, all his self-control. He’s locked in the containment room so there’s no immediate danger, but if I’m right then you being in the tower will make him wish he was dead.”

Yelena hesitated before speaking in a low, soft voice—meant to soothe you. “I think I already know the answer, but I have to ask. Do you know where you are in your cycle?”

You stuttered slightly, slowly starting to understand why Yelena would ask that, why it’s relevant to the conversation.

You didn’t need to check the cycle tracking app on your phone, how worked up you’ve been feeling the last week was indication enough. 

“I’m…I’m ovulating—but, why does this matter?” You needed her to confirm what you were already thinking.

Yelena cursed softly, rubbing her right temple. She was pretty certain that was the case, but now that it was confirmed it made the situation feel so much more real—more dangerous.

“The agent was designed with the intention to create a new generation of super soldiers…without the use of the serum. It—fuck, there’s no easy way to say this—it makes the infected soldiers have only one goal, one mission, and that’s to reproduce.” Yelena took a deep breath and continued. “They won’t stop until the agent is satisfied they’ve completed the mission—successfully created a new super soldier through the most natural way. And, to ensure the soldiers didn’t fuck anyone with a heartbeat and potentially die from the exertion, the agent was modified so they would only want to fuck—breed—fertile woman. Your body has already told Bucky—told the agent that you’re ready, suitable for what it was designed for. That’s why you can’t stay at the tower, solnyshko.”

You felt dizzy hearing Yelena’s explanation, your hands shaking in your lap as your mind raced trying to process the insanity you just heard. But, though you were panicking for yourself something else was a lot stronger—your worry for the man you had been crushing on for the past month. She said he was in pain, that he would wish he was dead.

“You said—“ you cleared your throat, trying to push through the nerves. “You said that he would wish he was dead, that he’s in pain…that the agent won’t stop until the mission is completed. How…how do we help him?”

Yelena chuckled though it was void of humour. “Well, as far as I’m aware there’s no escort services that specialise in ovulating women—they’d all be on birth control and the agent wouldn’t like that.” She looked at you with a pained expression mirroring your own, “we just have to let him ride it out on his own, hope that it doesn’t last too long.”

You hated that. There was nothing anyone could do to help him? To ease some of the agony the agent was unleashing on him?

You opened your mouth before you were aware of what you were about to say. 

“I want to help.”

Yelena was quick to shake her head. “No,” she said firmly. “There is no fucking way any of us, especially Bucky, are letting you help with this.” She knew he would rather die than let this be the reason you got together. 

“But, he’s in pain and I can help. Hell, I’m the only person who’s in the biological position to help!” The more Yelena refused, the more adamant you became.

“Biological position? I’m sure Barnes would love to hear you say that in regards to finally having sex with you. No—not happening. Can you stay with your friend and her boyfriend for a few days?” 

You were outraged, this wasn’t just about sex but about helping the man you cared for. Deeply. 

“What? No! Listen Yelena, I care for Bucky a lot. More than I should. More than I have for anyone in my life and in such a small amount of time—it’s honestly terrifying! Let me help, please.” You were seconds away from getting on your knees and begging.

She could see how serious you were, how you weren’t even concerned for your own safety—solely focusing on helping Bucky. Your connection with him ran deeper than any of the team realised. 

She sighed in defeat, trying to think of anything that would sway your mind. “You sure this is how you want to lose your virginity? By being ruthlessly fucked by a barbaric caveman version of Barnes?”

You gasped in shock, both surprised that she knew you were a virgin and slightly turned on by the thought of a desperate Bucky fucking you ruthlessly.

“How did you…is it that obvious?” Your face flushed in embarrassment—was your inexperience that noticeable? Had Bucky noticed? 

Yelena let out a soft sound, something between a fond chuckle and a resigned sigh. “Ava and I figured it out the other day. It’s not that obvious, we’re just nosy—interested in your life. You’re careful with what you say, or really what you don’t say. Not currently dating, no exes in your past that we could find, your behaviour and comments when we were shopping…doesn’t take much for two gossip hungry spies to figure out.”

You let out a stunned laugh, feeling weirdly comforted that the two women knew your secret and hadn’t pressured or teased you for it. 

Yelena grasped your hands in her own, soothingly rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “Are you sure, completely sure, this is what you want?”

Well, might as well bite the bullet with this one. You take in a deep grounding breath and nodded your head.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking him since the day I met him. I’m sure.”

————————

Bucky could sense the second you stepped foot in the tower, your scent pulling a pained growl from his chest and making his dick twitch in interest. 

Why were you back? He told—commanded—Yelena to get you out of here. He couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t even try to control his breathing when you were near.

Not when your body was sending him signals that you were ready—that you could carry his seed. The thought of filling you up, claiming you as his had his cock weeping—precum oozing from his tip and staining his sweats. His flesh hand was moving before he could think, palming his hard bulge over the wet fabric. He gasped at the sensation, feeling overwhelmed by the small touch and your smell permeating his lungs. He could almost taste you on his tongue and he gripped his cock harder, hissing at the pleasure he had deprived himself of for so long. 

“Bucky?” Your soft voice came through the room’s intercom, making him freeze before leaping to his feet and rushing to the door. He leaned his forehead against it as his breathing became even more ragged, the door the only thing between him and claiming what was his—what was always his. 

“Doll,” his voice was a deep, gravelly growl that shook the walls. He heard your soft gasp through the door, making his dick throb painfully. He wanted to tear through the fucking door. 

“You shouldn’t be here. I told—it’s not safe for you.”

Hearing him so clearly distressed made you feel even more certain with your decision.

“I want to help,” your voice was steady despite your buzzing nerves. “Please, let me help you.” 

Your pleading tone kicked the chemical agent into high gear, his body coiling tight at hearing you wanting to be breed. The substance running through his veins was ecstatic to hear you plead—it was ripping through Bucky’s last thread of self-restraint as the smell of your ovulating body was begging to be breed. 

He let out a pained whimper, his vibranium hand scratching at the door to try to get to you. 

He took a deep breath to compose himself. “You need to understand. If I let you in, if you unlock this door—I won’t be able to stop. Not until you’re full of me, not until you’re breed. You’ll be mine, do you get that?” 

He heard your breath hitch and then came your shaky reply. “I understand, Bucky. I…I want that—I want you.”

He staggered back from the door with the little control he had left over the chemical fever. His voice was low, quiet, but clear through the door. 

“Ok. You can come in.”

The deadbolts whirred loudly as you unlocked the door and stepped into the room, closing the door behind you quietly.

The two of you stared at each other silently, two metres of distance between you. Bucky looked like a caged animal ready to pounce. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction like he had been running his hands through it for hours. His eyes were almost black with a dark hunger, the muscles in his face tensing from his restraint. His white shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to his muscles and showing every hard ridge. His grey sweatpants left nothing to the imagination—a dark wet patch already formed where his heavy cock was straining against the fabric. You couldn’t take your eyes off it. He looked big—painfully big, and it had you clenching your thighs in anticipation, slick already gathering in your core. 

His nostrils flared, the smell of your arousal coating the walls and urging him closer—to take what was his. He groaned lowly as more of your sweet, musky scent filled his lungs. He was seconds away from ravaging you.

You looked like an angel in front of him—windswept curls, big innocent doe eyes, knit jumper swallowing your top half, leggings clinging to your legs. He growled, annoyed that the jumper was hiding your hips from his view. 

The last thread of his restraint finally snapped, a combination of the chemical agent and the need he’s felt for you since the day he met you making him lose his control. 

He was on you in a second, grasping your hips underneath your jumper and pushing you back until you were trapped between his body and the wall. The air around you became electric, charged with the unresolved tension the both of you had been feeling for weeks.

He looked into your eyes, double checking there was no doubt, before he finally kissed you. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t soft. It was all-consuming—his need and desperation spilling through as he kissed you like you were his oxygen. His lips sucked on your upper lip, clashing his teeth against yours in his desperation. A rumble vibrated from his chest as your hesitant hands rested on his shoulders, a small gasp leaving you at the feel of the hard vibranium beneath your right palm. His hands on your hips clutched harder, pulling you flush to his body. You broke the kiss when you felt his dick pressing—twitching—against your stomach. 

“I’m sorry, doll.” He whispered against your lips before he claimed them again, tilting his head to the side and running his tongue along your bottom lip—asking for permission, despite the feral fever coursing through him. Your lips opened for him without hesitation, his tongue pushing against yours with a dominant frenzy. Your hands traveled from his shoulders to his hair, running your fingers through his damp strands before gently tugging. He groaned deeply into your mouth at the feeling, his hips starting to rock against you for some relief. 

His mouth left yours, his stubble scratching your jaw and neck as he lavished the skin with sloppy kisses. You sighed at the feeling, a small moan slipping out as he sucked on a spot below your ear. His hands gripped your hips tightly before they slipped to your ass, palming harshly making you moan again. He lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist—a needy whine tearing from your throat at the feeling of his bulge pressing against your core. You could feel the heat of him through the layers of fabric, your own pants growing damp with your need. He pressed into you more, grinding his cock against you roughly as he sucked and bit your neck—sure to leave dark marks. The thought only urged him on more, wanting the whole world to know just who you belonged to. 

He pulled away from your neck, frustrated by the jumper restricting his access to more of your skin. He turned with you in his arms, walking to the bed in quick strides and throwing you on the sheets with as much gentleness as a starving man could manage. You looked up at him with dazed eyes, already looking ruined and he had barely started. He reached for the hem of your jumper, ripping it over your head and revealing your thin pyjama shirt underneath. He groaned at the sight of your nipples straining through the shirt, eager for his attention. 

“God, look at you. Fuckin’ dream,” and then he was on you again. His hips slotted between your open legs as his mouth closed around your clothed right nipple. And then he sucked hard. Your back arched slightly, your hips bucking against his at the intense pleasure that ran from your nipple to your clit. A loud whine sounded out in the room as he continued his assault, his flesh hand groping at your other clothed breast. His vibranium arm snuck underneath your back, keeping you slightly arched as his hips started to rut against you. His eyes fell shut as he listened to the noises you were letting out, the chemical agent in his body telling him to skip the foreplay and breed you already. He couldn’t though, he was the reason you were letting out those goddamn sweet moans and he wasn’t going to stop. 

He switched his mouth to your other nipple, giving it the same attention. Your hips were rocking against his with the same frantic need as his own and he groaned into your breast at the feeling. “Listen to you, pretty girl. So fuckin’ needy,” he mumbled out, the need coursing through his veins obliterating his filter. You gasped at his words, looking down to see his dark eyes already focused on your face.

“Take it off,” you rasped out, raising your arms above your head. He didn’t hesitate to remove his mouth, grabbing the hem of your shirt and tearing it off you. He stopped, momentarily starstruck at the sight of your naked heaving breasts below him. He dropped back on top of you, greedily sucking a nipple into his mouth and biting down. “Fuck!” You exclaimed at the feeling—it was so much better than your own fingers tugging and twisting.

Your slick was now soaking your panties, the crotch of your leggings wet with both your arousal and Bucky’s. The smell of your scents mixing had him freezing, resting his forehead on your sternum with a pained groan. 

“You smell so good, doll. It’s been torture, you know.” The floodgates opened and he couldn’t hold back what he’s been thinking for weeks. “Ever since you stepped foot in the tower, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” His hips resumed their grinding against yours, bothhis hands now tugging at your aching breasts. You let out a wanton moan at the contrasting feeling of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand—it was so much better than you imagined. His stubble was rough against the soft skin of your neck as he traveled up to suck at your neck and collarbones. 

“I could smell you the other night, baby. Could smell and hear as you touched yourself.” His confession had your eyes flying open, a gasp getting stuck in your throat. Your body flushed in both embarrassment and need. “I just stood there like a fucking idiot, listening to your sweet moans echo down the hall—resisting the urge to tear your door down and touch you myself.” His mouth was making it’s way down your torso, sloppily kissing and biting your skin and stopping at the waistband of your leggings. 

“I was thinking about you,” you gasped out without thinking. He stopped his descent, a low groan rumbling in his chest and hands gripping your breasts even tighter.

“…What?” He looked back up at your face, seeing the panic in your eyes as you let your dirty little secret free. His own eyes reflected his need—his pupils dilated with lust, leaving only a thin ring of blue.

The primal hunger you saw on his face spurred you on. You nodded shyly before muttering in a low voice. “I was thinking about you when I was touching myself. I…I have been since that first week.”

A loud rip tore through the air as his hands gripped the waistband of your leggings, ripping them in half in his rush to get them off you. He got off the bed, kneeling on the floor and grabbed your hips before quickly pulling you to the edge. His cock jumped and ached at the sight of your soaked panties, begging him to quit the foreplay and rut inside of you already. 

“You have no idea what that does to me, sweetheart.” A whine tore through your throat—him between your legs and calling you sweetheart was what made you come the first time you touched yourself to the thought of him. It made the ball in your core tighten more, a fresh gush of slick leaking out of your pussy. You watched him inhale deeply, gripping your knees and resting them on his shoulders. His stubble scratched the sensitive skin on your inner thighs as he trailed greedy kisses along them—biting into your flesh as he got closer to your core.

You couldn’t control the noises you let out, gasps and whines spilling free as your hips rocked towards him—the teasing on the edge of unbearable.

“So goddamn responsive,” he muttered into your skin, the low timbre of his voice vibrating through your leg and making your pussy clench around nothing.

“Please,” you gasped out. “Please fuck me.” You knew you were begging but you didn’t care, you were so worked up and he was making you feel better than you ever imagined. 

A light slap to your clothed pussy had your back arching and head falling back. Fuck, that was hot.

“Impatient girl. Wanna make you feel good first.” Your begging was the last straw from him, whatever restraint he had been holding onto vanishing into thin air. He gripped your drenched panties, pulling them down your legs and watching mesmerised as the wet fabric clung to your soaked pussy. He groaned at the sight, drool leaking from his mouth as your sweetness overwhelmed his senses. He stopped holding back.

He dove in fast, licking a strip from your leaking entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around the throbbing bud and sucking. His eyes closed at the taste of you, a pained whimper sounding in the back of his throat. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good, doll. Better than I imagined,” he raised his head slightly to whisper into your pussy before diving back in. He ate you out like a man starved, moaning at the taste of you. He focused on your clit and your hands tugged at his hair as the ball in your core grew heavier, your hips rocking against his face as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Yes, fuck! That feels so good, oh my god,” you gasped out loudly. His hands were clutching your hips hard, and your right one left his hair to grab his left hand. “Inside, please.” His mouth stopped devouring you for a split second as your pleading met his ears. He let out a filthy moan as he processed what you wanted.

“You want the vibranium hand, doll? Hmm? Is this what you imagine when you touch yourself?” His cold hand trailed from your hip to your neglected entrance, lightly pinching your clit on the way. Shivers wracked your body at the feeling, nodding your head eagerly at his questions. “Dirty fucking girl,” he mocked before a single vibranium digit nudged at your opening, a keen whimper falling from your lips. He slipped it in with little resistance, your soaked walls clamping down on the intrusion. It felt unreal—his cold, ridged finger running along your silky walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight. Relax, doll, breathe for me.” He didn’t understand how he maintained his composure, your tight pussy squeezing his finger making the chemical agent rear it’s ugly head and sending pain all throughout him. But, he refused to let it take over. He had to make sure you enjoyed this too. From how your pussy was dripping down his hand and on the sheets, he could tell you were enjoying this. He had to work you open though, you were so fucking tight and he didn’t want to cause you pain when he finally fucked you. 

“Move, please.” You whimpered to him. He granted your wish, curling his finger and rubbing it against your walls. You let out a loud moan as he hit the spot you could never reach on your own, and he doubled his efforts on that spot. Your needy moans and whines echoed in the air as you felt your core coiling tighter. He was transfixed by the sight of you, hips thrusting up to meet his hand as he inserted another finger. A choked cry tore from your chest at the feeling of his fingers deliciously stretching you.

“You’re fucking dripping sweetheart, listen to how fucking wet you are.” His fingers curled into you faster, an obscene squelching mingling with the sounds of your moans. You started to pant as your body tensed up, your legs shaking as your high climbed to a point you hadn’t experienced before. He lowered his mouth back to your clit, kitten licking it a couple times then sucking on it hard. Stars exploded behind your eyes and your hips raised off the bed, your whole body shaking.

“Bucky, I’m coming—oh, fuck!” You cried out as the tension in your core snapped and you came hard. His fingers slowed their pace slightly as he worked you through your high, his mouth going back to licking your clit as the sucking started to overwhelm you. You felt like you were floating, aftershocks trembling through your body—the feeling of Bucky between your thighs the only thing grounding you to earth.

He stood to his full height, bulging muscles towering over you as he looked down at you like prey. He pulled his shirt over his head quickly before working his sweatpants down his legs. You watched in a post-orgasm daze as his hard cock slapped against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. He was fucking massive and it had your thighs clenching instinctively. How was that going to fit in you?

He chuckled darkly at your wide-eyed stare, a wolfish grin on his face. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make it fit.” He grabbed under your armpits and hoisted you further up the bed, your head resting against the soft pillows. He loomed over you, pushing a curl behind your ear in an act of softness you weren’t expecting with the chemical agent torturing him. 

“This wasn’t how I wanted this to happen,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I wanted to take you out for dinner, make you come multiple times before fucking you.” He couldn’t wait any longer, his body trembling and burning up the more he delayed filling you. “Wanted to make love to you, not fuck you like an animal.”

Your shaky hands cupped his face to make him look into your eyes. “It’s okay, I want this. We can do all that stuff later.” Later. You wanted this, and you wanted him later too. 

He grabbed his sensitive, aching cock and lined it up with your still dripping hole. The chemicals surging through his body pushed his hips forward, sheathing his tip in your tight walls. His head fell to yours with a pained groan as he felt you struggle to open up for him. You let out a pained whimper as he pushed forward more, the stretch of him burning your virgin pussy. He continued to slowly inch in, his face and neck red from the restraint of holding himself back from pounding into you like an animal.

“That’s it, god, you’re gripping me so tight, fuck.” He mumbled, feeling you clench more at his words. “Doll, you—shit, you gotta let me in.” His left hand gripped your hip tightly, spreading your legs wider to accommodate more of him. His right hand dragged up your body to your chest, grabbing one of your breasts—making you arch into him and gasp. You were still so sensitive from your first orgasm and everything was overwhelming you. He raised his head slightly, looking down between your bodies where his dick wasn’t even half in you yet. He groaned loudly at the sight and the chemical agent took over.

He sunk into you, his hips flush against yours as he bottomed out. A pained cry tore from your chest as he stretched you—his fingers had not been enough to prep you for his massive dick. He hardly gave you a second to adjust before he rutted into you, grunts falling from his lips at the feeling of you clenching him. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good—you were made for this, Jesus—“ His words slurred together from the pleasure, his Brooklyn accent slipping through. He picked up the pace, both hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you. Your hands were on his back, pulling him closer as you wrapped your legs around his waist. The position made him reach deeper in you, his tip hitting your cervix with each thrust. Sweat ran down his chest and dropped onto your stomach, adding to the mix of fluids covering your lower half. You screwed your eyes shut at the pain radiating from your core, trying to ignore the burn for his sake. 

“This what you wanted, huh? To be fucked and breed like a good girl?” He didn’t know what he was saying anymore, the pleasure and chemicals mixing into a delicious torture that had him mumbling nonsense. He felt your walls clench tight and it only spurred him on more. “God, that is what you want—fuckin’ dirty.” His cock pistoned into you faster, the sounds of skin slapping on skin filling the room. He could already feel his release building in his balls, trying to hold off on coming to make it better for you. His flesh hand moved from your hip to your pussy, his fingers rubbing harsh circles on your clit.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp, the pain in your core morphing into intense pleasure. His thick cock was hitting that spot inside of you perfectly, and your clit was still so sensitive that his touch had you hurtling towards your second release. Fast. He dropped his forehead to yours, his lips ghosting yours as you moaned into each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck—I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fill you up, baby.” He panted into your mouth. “You want that?  Want me to breed you?”

“Yes, god—James I need it so bad!” You wailed into his mouth in response. He fucking roared at hearing you say his first name, his hips stuttering as his release edged closer.

“Say. It. Again.” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust.

“James, come inside me, please!” He stood no fucking chance. He plunged into your aching pussy two more times before stilling with an animalistic noise—something between a groan and a growl. His hips rocked into yours as his release filled you, the warm seed coating your walls and coaxing your second orgasm out of you. You came with a high-pitched cry, your eyes rolling back as he kept coming inside—it wasn’t stopping. He held you tightly as he continued rocking his release into you, your overworked body trembling in his arms and little sobs heaving from your chest.

“Shhh, you’re okay, you did so well, doll.” He whispered into your temple, littering your face with soft kisses as his high ebbed and the fog cleared from his head. He gently rolled you both over, his back resting on the bed and you snuggled tight to his chest. His dick softened inside you, indicating that the chemical agent got what it wanted. He held you in his arms until your breath evened out, and he found himself falling asleep not long after. 

————————

Bucky woke up with you still in his arms, letting out little snores against his chest. He could feel his release staining the both of you and he moved as slowly as he could to not wake you. Your face pinched slightly as he pulled out of your sore pussy but you stayed asleep and snuggled into the pillows. He walked over to the sink in the corner of the room, wetting the hand towel before returning to clean you up. He took his time, watching your face carefully to ensure he didn’t disturb your sleep—you needed to rest. He threw the towel in the sink once he was finished, gathering his dirty clothes off the floor and putting them on. Food—you needed food. 

The sun was barely a spot on the horizon as he made his way to the kitchen, sighing in relief that no one else would be awake. That relief was replaced with hesitation as he saw Yelena sitting at the kitchen island nursing a cup of coffee. She raised her eyebrows at Bucky as he entered the room, surprised that he was seemingly normal. He gave her a small nod in greeting before turning to the fridge, gathering food for the two of you.

Yelena took a breath before broaching the subject. “So…you okay?”

Bucky tensed at her question, not wanting to engage in conversation and get back to you as fast as possible. “Mhmm.” He mumbled casually. 

Yelena wasn’t having a bar of his silence. “And? How’s Y/N?” He turned to her, ready to shut down her questioning when she opened her mouth again. “I hope you didn’t kill her during her first time.”

Bucky froze. The fork in his hand clattered on the tiles. He felt dread washing over his body, paralysing him in fear. Your first time?

He found his voice, though meek and small. “…What?”