I'm just slightly obsessed with fanfics ♡♡♡

Meeting with other families for play dates didn't help.

Regular date nights with Jake didn't help.

D&D isn't helping.

But you don't need to talk to a professional, right? It's probably just hormones and recognition of your Twins' growing up. That doesn't require a therapist or anything. It's just the sadness that hits every parent as their kids get older.

Right?

Jake holds you a little tighter that morning. He's been extra worried about you, noticing every smile you fake and times you've had to force your enthusiasm. But whenever he tries to get you to open up about it, you brush it off.

"It's just the back-to-school blues," you tell him. "I'm sure it'll get better when I'm more used to the Twins' going to school full time."

He promises himself that he'll keep trying, if only because it'll show you he's paying attention, he cares, he wants you to be happy. You're his Sunshine but you've been hiding behind the clouds, so he needs to step up. For you and the kids.

Honestly, he just wants to scoop you right back into bed and see how many orgasms it would take to have your brain completely shutting down and you clinging to him in that sweet, floaty way he adores so much.

But, he’s not an animal. Usually. So he can ease you both into it. There’s no rush to get to the good stuff. And Curtis knows how ☺️ you get when he’s soft and affectionate just because.

So he moves toward you, making enough noise to alert you to his presence so he doesn’t scare you. The way you glance at him over your shoulder and your eyes light up at the sight of him makes his heart skip a beat.

He loves you so much.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, smiling into the eager peck you press to his lips.

“Hi!” You chirp. “I’m almost done here, then we can relax.”

Curtis just hums as your attention returns to the dishes. He doesn’t move away though, he moves closer. One of his big, calloused hands collars the back of your neck, giving your nape a gentle squeeze that has you instantly O_O especially once Curtis’ lips press a kiss to the curve of your shoulder bared by the worn collar of his shirt.

Easy for him to say.

The gala was all crystal chandeliers and whispered deals in dark corners. You wore a backless black gown that clungto you like sin, your hair pinned up to expose the vulnerable line of your neck. Bucky cleaned up in a tailored tux, metal arm hidden beneath sleek black fabric, hair swept back. He looked annoyingly good.

You hated it.

You danced once—stiff, close enough for cover. His hand on your waist burned through the silk. “Smile, darling,” he murmured against your ear, voice dripping sarcasm.

Your heel dug into his polished shoe in reply.

Halfway through the night, you slipped away to the upper floors, hunting the encrypted drive in a private office. The door clicked shut behind you. Bucky moved to the safe, hands quick and precise, while you kept watch.

Thirty seconds later—footsteps.

Too many. Too heavy.

“Shit—hide!” you hissed.

No time.

The only exit was the door they were now pounding on.

Bucky grabbed your arm, dragging you toward the far wall—the one fully visible from the entrance if it gave way. Voices shouted in Russian.

“Open up! We know someone’s in here!”

Your heart hammered. No windows. No vents. No way out.

An idea sparked—filthy and desperate.

You backed into the wall, chest rising fast. “Barnes. Come here.”

He shot you a look. “What—”

“Shut up and get over here.”

You grabbed his tie and yanked him forward until his body caged yours against the cool plaster.

“We make it look like we’re fucking,” you whispered. “If we're loud and convincing enough, they’ll leave.”

For once, the Winter Soldier looked completely speechless.

The pounding got louder. “Last warning!”

You didn’t wait.

Your head tipped back against the wall, lips parting. “Bucky…” The sound that left you was low, breathy, practiced—but it still sent a jolt through your own spine. Your hands slid up his chest, nails dragging lightly. “Harder—fuck, yes—”

His breath hitched.

His hands landed on your hips, gripping tighter than necessary.

The fake was supposed to stay fake.

But something in the way you said his name—soft and wrecked—flipped a switch.

“Damn it,” he growled, voice rough. One hand slid down your thigh, bunching your dress up to your hip. He pressed forward, thigh slotting between yours, rocking once.

The friction hit just right.

Your next moan wasn’t entirely staged.

Outside, the guards hesitated. One muttered something under his breath. Another laughed.

You doubled down. “Bucky—right there, baby—don’t stop—”

Your voice cracked.

His metal hand spread over your ass, dragging you harder against him. You felt him—hot, thick, straining through his slacks—and the realization sent a sharp thrill straight through your core.

“Fuck, doll,” he rasped into your neck, teeth grazing your skin. Not part of the act. Not even close. His hips rolled again, deliberate now, grinding against you through layers of fabric. Your back arched.

A real whimper slipped free.

The door rattled again. “Hey! People are trying to enjoy the party!”

Bucky’s mouth latched onto your throat, sucking a mark that would darken by morning. “Louder,” he ordered, voice dark velvet. His hand slipped beneath your dress, fingers teasing the edge of your panties. “Let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You obeyed—because you had to.

Because you wanted to.

“Ah—Bucky! Yes—fuck me—”

The words broke into something real as his fingers pushed your underwear aside and found you already slick. He groaned before sliding two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust.

Your knees nearly gave out.

He caught you easily, holding you up while he worked his hand between your thighs, pumping slow and deep. His hips kept moving, grinding against you, the friction relentless and filthy. The sounds—wet, obscene—echoed in the small room.

Your hand fisted in his hair, pulling hard. “More—please—”

No act left now.

Just want.

He added another finger, stretching you, his thumb circling your clit with devastating precision. The distant hum of the gala faded into nothing. All you could hear was his breathing, rough and uneven, and the slick rhythm of his hand.

Your orgasm built fast.

Outside, the guards were arguing now. “Probably just some horny guests. Waste of time.”

Bucky’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he drove his fingers deeper, curling just right. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let go. Let them hear you scream my name.”

You did.

The orgasm hit like a shockwave—your body tightening, trembling, breaking apart around his hand. A loud, wrecked cry tore out of you.

“Bucky—fuck—!”

It wasn’t fake.

It wasn’t controlled.

It was real.

He worked you through it, slower now but no less intense, until your legs were shaking and you were barely upright. Only then did he pull his fingers free—bringing them to his mouth without breaking eye contact.

The look he gave you while licking them clean made your stomach flip.

The hallway outside had gone quiet.

Footsteps retreated.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell, his eyes blown dark. “Mission’s not over,” he said hoarsely.

But he didn’t move away.

Instead, he kissed you.

All teeth and tongue and months of tension snapping at once.

You bit his lip, tasting copper, breath mingling with his. “Then finish the job, Barnes,” you muttered. “And make it quick.”

Your hand dropped between you, palming him through his slacks.

“I want you inside me before they circle back.”

A dark laugh left him, already reaching for his belt. “Yes, ma’am.”

The drive could wait.

Five minutes.

Maybe ten.

"This is stupid!" Sam yelled, waving his gun in the air.

"The games the game." Bucky chuffed with a smirk.

"You're the one who suggested this." Yelena chuckled alongside Bucky.

"Yeah a nice normal game of Lazer tag. Not Lazer tag with the world's best assassin!" Sam continued.

"Look man," Joaquin huffed as he joined Sam's side, "Maybe we just call it quits, we've gone 5 rounds, we keep losing."

"No we go again." Sam replied sternly, pointing at Bucky with narrowed eyes, "You, left hand only."

"Fine by me." Bucky grinned before jogging back into the darkened zone laughing.

ring gag - Ari

Not only as a tool to quiet his bratty submissive, but for the whole creatively evil side of him that loves to wreck you with helplessness with a side of humiliation. He'd put the ring gag in your mouth, then bend you over, face-forward to the club members, so everyone can watch you drool and make incoherent sounds as Ari toys with you. Ring gag often is associated with mouth fucking, but Ari rarely is so predictable. Yes, he would put his fingers in your mouth, fuck your mouth with them... then stretch your ass with those wet fingers and listen to your gurgling sounds of pain-pleasure.

collar with nipple clamps - Ransom

Collaring as a mark of bond and ownership fits more other couples, but I treat is here as a means of play. Ransom would put a pretty collar around your neck, with nipple clamps attach to it with thin chains. Which he of course traps your poor nipples in, keeping your upper half naked and on display. He might let you stay partially covered below, with a frilly apron. Then makes you play a waitress/maid for him, doing all the tasks with those clamps on, and touching you every given opportunity. Absolutely drives you mad and wet.

tentacle dildo - Andy

"You're full of shit Rogers!" You screamed across the meeting room table, shoving your seat back so you could attempt to get eye level with the man standing at the head, arms folded across his chest as he delivered the debrief for the mission you'd got home from just hours before.

"Language." Steve scolded with a tense jaw.

"Oh fuck you Mr righteous!" You yelled, pointing your finger at him aggressively, while the rest of the team recoiled in their chairs, none of them wanting to get involved in whatever the hell this was.

"You broke protocol." Steve snapped back, "You went against my orders."

"No I didn't!" You argued, hands flying into the air dramatically while you made your point, "I followed your shitty little plan, even though I knew it could be better, so the fact this mission failed is on you not me!"

"The plan was foolproof, the plan was sound." He scolded, shifting on his feet and placing his hands on his hips, trying as always to appear the ever calm in control captain of the team, "But once again you thought you could do better, you deviated!"

You looked at him through narrowed eyes, slamming your fists down on the table as you got progressively more and more riled up, "I only deviated when I had no other choice!"

Across the room, Peter shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as he watched you and Steve screaming at eachother. It had been his first mission with the team and he wasn't sure what to expect at his first debrief, but it definitely wasn't this.

"Erm..are they always like this?" Peter asked quietly, leaning over towards Sam and Bucky to make sure you didn't hear, not wanting you to turn your anger on him.

"Yup." Bucky scoffed, arms folded across his chest.

"Ever since the break up." Sam mumbled, watching the two of you with a raised brow. 

"They were together!" Peter gasped in shock, eyes flicking between the two of you, noticing the tense postures, the wrinkled noses and snarls passing between you.

"Yup." Bucky grunted, lips curling up in amusement at your continued spat.

"Hard to imagine right?" Sam replied turning to Peter with a smirk, while the younger man looked completely stunned.

"Fuck this!" You yelled, pulling all the gazes in the room back to you, "I'm not gonna listen to the shit coming out of your mouth anymore!"

You turned on your heel, storming over to the glass doors of the room. 

"This conversation isn't over!" Steve yelled after you.

You didn't care, sticking your middle finger up over your shoulder as you yanked the door open, slamming it closed behind you and storming off into the compound.

It was hard to imagine there was a time when you could only smile in his presence, only look at the stoic man and see nothing but pure adoration and love. Nowadays all you felt was anger and hatred, betrayal. You were still hurt, still carrying the pain that came with not being his, of not being enough, but you'd never let him see that, he didn't deserve your tears. 

A short while later, you were sat on the edge of your bed, elbows digging into your knees and your face in your palms while you tried to calm down from your fight with Steve, failing miserably.

A knock on the door had you groaning loudly into your hands, not ready to face anyone.

"Go away Sam." You muffled loudly into your skin, "I'm not in the mood."

"It's Steve." Came a stern shout from behind the wood separating you.

"Oh well in that case.." You yelled, pulling your face out of your palms to glare at the back of the door, "FUCK OFF!"

"Open the god damn door!" Steve yelled, attempting to accentuate his order by hitting the door loudly once.

"No." You shouted back.

"You're being a child." He scolded, causing you to roll your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain.

He yelled your name again and you rose to your feet, stomping over to the door to give him a piece of your mind.

You threw the door open, not even blinking when it slammed against the nearby wall.

"What?!" You practically screamed, eyes narrowed and heart hammering as you glared up at him. 

His expression matched yours, laced with anger, exasperation and exhaustion from the constant fighting.

"You can't just walk out of a debrief like that." He said sternly, pressing his palm to the door frame above your head, wood creaking under his weight.

"I can and I did." You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest.

"You're being unreasonable." He spat.

"You just pinned an entire missions failure on me but I'm being unreasonable?" You squeaked in annoyance, "Let me guess. You go around saying our relationship ended cause of me too huh?"

A flash of confusion and pain crossed his face, finally cracking through the stern facade he'd brought to your door.

"What?" He hissed, shaking his head, "That's not...No, never!"

"Sure." You scoffed, looking down at your toes as you kicked the carpet, debating kicking him straight in the shin.

"I don't." He said sternly, "You know I wouldn't do that."

"I don't know anything about you anymore Rogers." You snapped back, looking back up at him through your eyelashes as your brows furrowed.

"Stop calling me that." He ordered, jaw ticking furiously.

"Why? It's your name?" You scoffed sarcastically.

"Not to you." He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, would you prefer captain now?" You clapped back, raising your brow when you saw his throat bob harshly and his cheeks tint pink.

"Stop." He grunted.

"Oh yeah, you would wouldn't you?" You sneered with a smirk, "You used to love that one when you fuc...."

"I said stop!" Steve yelled, hand coming up to wrap around your throat as you stumbled onto your toes and your breath caught in your throat.

"Make me." You hissed.

His lips were on yours before you could blink, free hand grabbing your hip and guiding you backwards into the room. Steve kicked the door closed with a slam before turning you back and pushing you against it.

You grunted into his mouth when his body pushed to yours, feeling his cock already rock hard and pushing against your abdomen.

You hated him, hated that he could still make you feel this way, hated that you didn't want to say no despite your body screaming that you should. It had been so long since you'd felt this way, with his lips melded to yours, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Steve groaned when your tongue slipped into his mouth and your hands reached up to desperately clutch at his neck and hair.

It was messy and rushed, Steve's hand moving from your throat to grab and grope at every inch of your skin he could reach.

Your pussy pulsed, slick dampening your underwear as he humped his cock against you, grinding his hips desperately against your body.

You pulled at the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up and Steve quickly took the hint, separating from your mouth so you could reveal his chiselled torso. The shirt was tossed to the floor as Steve's lips connected to your neck, sucking and kissing at your soft skin while his hands grabbed your hips, shoving your bodies together and igniting the fire in your core.

"Finally, you've shut your mouth." He grunted against your skin.

"Oh fuck you." You breathed shakily, unable to find the bite in your voice that you had just minutes before.

"I'm going to sweetheart." He mumbled, nipping at your neck, "Don't worry about that."

"I hate you." You whimpered, slamming your head back against the door.

"I know." He sighed as he pulled away, "I don't care."

He gripped the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head before you had time to protest and quickly snapped the band of your bra, ripping the fabric from your body that was keeping you from him.

His lips met your shoulder, palms massaging the flesh of your waist as your nipples skimmed his chest, stiffening from the contact, while your hands ran over Steve's corded muscles, reveling in the feeling of his warm skin.

"Fuck I needed this." He groaned.

"Language." You breathed with a smirk.

He growled against your neck, pulling back to look at you with a raised brow.

"Don't be a brat." He scolded, eyes dark and cock harder than ever before.

"Or what?" You teased.

"Or I'll fuck your ass dry." He replied and your pussy pulsed at his tone, "And we both know you can't take it there unless it's nice and wet."

You gulped harshly, blinking up at him but staying silent, obedient.

"That's what I thought." He scoffed, pressing his lips against your cheek, then your jaw before he dipped his head down and took a nipple in his mouth, making you gasp. Your hands found their way into his hair, gripping him with your eyes clenched shut while he nibbled your peaks and lavished your flesh.

"Missed these tits." Hr grumbled against you, "Missed this cunt. Missed you."

Your breath hitched, heart skipping a beat but your head knew better than to believe his words, so you did what you needed to, summoning back the sharp tongue that you always used in his presence lately.

"Shut up and fuck me already." You ordered, though it came out in a rasp.

"Remember who you're talking to sweetheart." Steve smirked back at you, standing back to his full height, "Be polite."

"Fuck me please," You said sarcastically, "Please captain."

He rolled his eyes before sliding his palms under your ass.

"Better I guess." He teased before pulling you up off of the floor. 

Steve took the few steps towards your bed before tossing you down onto the mattress. He was quick to pull off your remaining clothes before shoving his jeans and underwear down and off of his feet.

"Get those fucking legs up." He ordered while he took his cock in hand, giving it a few strokes while he raked his gaze over your body, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

You did as you were told, lifting your legs into the air so your ass and cunt were exposed to him, taking the backs of your thighs in your hands to help keep them there.

"Good girl." He growled watching as your pussy clenched from the praised.

He bridged the gap, taking your knees in his palms and stroking your calves gently as he settled your ankles over his shoulders. Your arms dropped to your sides, fisting the bedding in anticipation as you watched his huge cock bob between your legs.

Steve let your legs rest on his body and steadied one hand on your thigh, while his other took his cock his his fist, rubbing the tip against your wet folds.

You groaned in pleasure, biting down on your lip.

"There we go." Steve groaned as he pushed the tip into you, "Fuck."

The stretch was more than you remembered, every inch of your body igniting in heat just from the small amount he had given you.

"Oh...." You mewled, back arching from the bed.

"Shhhh I know baby I know." Steve groaned softly as he slowly worked more of his cock into you, "Been a while, but I know you can take it."

You only moaned in response, clenching your eyes tight as he thrust his length into you at a torturous pace, until he finally bottomed out, stilling at the hilt and gripping onto both your hips while he took a deep shuddered breath.

Your eyes opened, locking on his as you both panted quietly, staring at each other with want and need.

Steve pulled back suddenly, before slamming back into you, making you cry out in pleasure as he smacked your cervix.

His eyes stayed locked on yours while he started a rapid assault on your cunt, dragging his cock along your spongy walls and hitting against your cervix in the way he knew would have you screaming for him.

"Shit you feel so good." Steve groaned, "Not gonna last long."

"Mghhh." You tried to respond, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth as your stomach tightened and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

"You either huh baby?" He grunted with a smirk, "Feels good doesn't it, bein' a good girl, taking orders from your captain?"

"Please Stevie." You gasped and his cock twitched inside of you, heart hammering against his rib cage while he watched you coming undone beneath him, just like you always used too.

"There she is." He moaned, "Fuck baby."

He pushed his body over yours, pressing your legs tight between your own bodies so he could press his lips to yours.

The angle pushed his cock deeper than before and you let out a strangled groan into his mouth.

"No one compares to you baby, no one." He groaned, pressing his palms down on your thighs while he fucked you with no remorse, kissing every inch of you he could reach. "You're all I want. Fuck. All I...need."

Despite the pain in your heart, the fire spread further through your body, ears burning hot and eyes rolling back.

"You gonna come?" Steve grunted against your cheek.

You could only nod in response, slipping your hands off of the mattress where you had desperately clawed at the bedding and placing them around his back, holding him as tightly as possible.

"What do you say?" He breathed and all fight in you to yell or tell him to fuck off had gone, there was only the need to come racing through you.

"Please captain, please can I cum?" You whimpered.

"Go ahead baby." Steve groaned, "Show me what I do to you."

All at once your body flooded with warmth and tingles, cunt clamping down on Steve's cock while your eyesight fuzzed and you cried out his name.

"Oh shit." He whined, hips faltering, "Fuck. So fucking tight."

He began slamming into you at speed, chasing his high while yours was strung out, body shaky and writhing in pleasure.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna come." He rasped, "Not pulling out, never pulling out, gotta fill my baby up, make sure you know you're mine."

He groaned as he pushed his cock to the hilt, stilling and pressing his lips to yours as his warm cum flooded into you.

You kissed lazily as you both came down from your high, until Steve rolled off of you, lying next to you on the bed with his legs dangling off the edge and his forearm over his head.

With the orgasm filtering out, your mind began to clear and tears began pooling in your eyes.

You stood up and quickly worked your clothes back over your body, ignoring the cum soaking into your trousers.

Steve still lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a smile and a dreamy expression, like a blissed out man, a man who'd just won the lottery.

You grabbed his clothes from where they were scattered on the floor and shoved them onto his stomach, hearing him let out a little "oomph" at the impact. His hand came down instinctively to cradle the clothing and his head tipped up to look at you in confusion.

"What?" He asked with a hurt look in his eye, "You're making me leave?"

"Yup." You sniffed, wiping your face with your sleeve as a few stray tears slipped down your cheeks.

"Baby." He rasped, quickly jumping to his feet and extending his arm towards you.

"No don't baby me." You scoffed through the tears, folding your arms across your chest.

"I thought this would...that we..." He stuttered trying to find the words, while you cried before him.

"That we what Steve?" You cried, unable to hold it back, "That sex would make me forget you kissed Sharon fucking Carter right in front of me? That i'd forget how badly you tore my heart open."

"Baby... please...I.." He begged, placing his hands on your arms with tears filling his own eyes, but you shook him off.

"Save it and get out." You spat breathily, stepping away from him and staring at the floor, unable to look at his face any longer.

He hesitated, watching your shoulders shake as you cried, wanting to reach out and comfort you but knowing that's not what you wanted right now, you needed time, you needed space.

"Okay I'll go." He sighed, quickly pulling on his clothes. He stepped up to the door, hand braced on the handle and shook his head.

"But just so you know." He said softly, "I'm not gonna stop trying until you're mine again. Sharon...was a moment of weakness, a mistake. It's always been you. I love you. I never stopped."

The door clicked and your body dropped to the floor, palms rubbing at your weeping eyes as you tried to process what he'd just said, knowing that despite the pain he'd caused you, if Steve Rogers said he was going to do something, he would follow through.

Everything tag - @late-to-the-party-81

@the-wandering-wonder @rnurse-kole @chemtrails-club @marvelgurl

“S’okay Buck,” you soothe, running your hands gently over his straining neck before migrating to his shoulders and back. “You can relax… no pressure.” You’re a hypocrite of course. You’ve never been less relaxed in your life, lying there with this beast of a man held in the cradle of your legs, as he throbs deep within you while he tries to find an ounce of composure has you feeling like the most powerful person in the world. 

You’re also fighting against the urge to moan wantonly into his ear and roll your hips up for some friction because you’ve never been this full. You know that none of that is going to help Bucky at the moment so you tamp down the wildness within that has you desperately wanting to flip him over and just ride. Regardless of how much you want this, you can’t risk overwhelming him - it’s just not about you right now. Intimacy has been a long and difficult journey for Bucky and - 

“Oh god,” you gasp before immediately biting your lip to shut your damned mouth. 

“Sorry, m’sorry,” Bucky pants, stilling his movements again and daring a glance at your face. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No baby, it’s good, you’re good. You’re so good Bucky.” Your words are a bit garbled as they leave your mouth but Bucky continues pumping his hips gently, the panic receding from his eyes rapidly as static takes over his brain at the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

“Ngh, don’t say that.” Bucky grips your thigh with the intention of keeping himself grounded against the exquisite pleasure, but it only succeeds in him pulling your leg up higher over his waist allowing him to nudge into you just that fraction deeper and you find you can’t help yourself. You cry out in bliss, clenching around his cock as Bucky ruts into you without conscious direction. A final scratch of your nails up his back is what finally tips him over the edge, his mouth dropping open as he pants through his orgasm because he’s pretty sure it never felt like this before and holy crap he’s still coming, pulsing and filling you up so much it’s already leaking back out around where he’s inside you. 

“Sorry,” Bucky gasps, shivering at the sensitivity as he finally starts to come down. 

You give him as soft a smile as you can manage as you slip away from the edge that you were just starting to climb. Bucky’s arm shakes and he lets some of his weight rests on you as he huffs a deep sigh, hanging his head and gearing up to apologise again, correctly, but furrows his brow when you cut him off by tilting his chin up and gracing him with a brief but firm kiss. 

“Buck. It’s okay,” you mutter into the small space between you, hoping that he can hear the sincerity in your words. “Today wasn’t about me. It was for you-” 

“No,” he cuts in sharply. “It was meant to be about both of us and I-” 

“Nuh uh,” you interrupt - you can both play that game. “We talked about this. Your first time this century is way more important than me getting an orgasm. ‘Sides…” you give him a flirty little smile, “... I sort of hoped this wouldn’t be the last time we’d be doing this.” You punctuate your statement with a cheeky little pulse around where he is still buried within you and he hisses even as his dick gives an interested kick in response. 

“You - you’ll let me… again?” It’s ridiculous how cute you find it that even with his dick fully inside you Bucky still struggles to verbalise wanting to fuck you. 

“Mhmm,” you say coyly. “It’s almost like I really like you or something.” 

“Or something,” he echoes, a rueful grin finally breaking through as he skates his hand down between your bodies, determined to make this repeat performance one to be remembered. 

Hope you enjoyed!

“Napkins? Dean wanted to buy napkins?” You frown deeply. “Dean only ever buys beer, pie, and his naughty magazines. You know, the ones he hides under our bed.”

“OH…he still likes them?” Sam’s cheeks are pink when he looks your way. “Dean has a weakness for these.”

“I don’t mind,” you chuckle. “I just wonder why he left to buy napkins. We wanted to have a movie night. And wine? I can’t drink.” You waddle out of the kitchen, rubbing your big belly. “He knows that.”

“Maybe he needed a break?” Sam winces at his words. “Sorry. It’s just…uh…domestic life, kids running around, a pregnant wife. Dean must be on the edge.”

“On. The. Edge?” You poke your index finger into Sam’s chest. “He’s lucky to have us.”

“Of course,” Sam says, showing his palms. “It’s just…sometimes a man needs a break.”

“Where is my husband?” You narrow your eyes and raise your voice. “I won’t ask twice, Samuel Winchester.”

“I don’t know, I swear. Dean said something about getting fresh air and wine and stuff. I was wondering about the wine and napkins too.” Sam slowly walks backward, keeping an eye on you. “Let me live.”

“Fine. I’ll find him myself,” you huff and turn on your heels. Sam watches you waddle toward your bedroom, careful not to wake your sleeping kids.

Back in your bedroom, you grab your phone. Dean never just runs off. If things get too intense, he comes to you. You’re worried something might have happened to your husband.

You’re about to type a message to him when a message from Dean pops up. You chuckle because he’s his silly self.

Twenty minutes later, you and Sam get out of your car. The younger Winchester sighs because Dean is running toward you, grinning like an idiot.

“Sweetheart!” He wraps his arms around you, peppering kisses all over your neck. “I knew you’d come and be my girlfriend.”

“She’s your wife,” Sam says. “What happened? Why are you like this?” He looks Dean up and down, frowning deeply. “What’s this?”

Dean looks down at his arm, stopping at the bracelet around his wrist.

“I don’t know.” He says, lifting his arm to look at the bracelet. “It looks nice.”

“Dean, that’s not yours.” Sam carefully grabs his brother’s wrist to take the bracelet off. Before he can get a better look at it, the bracelet turns to dust, and his brother falls to the ground, unconscious.

“Gabriel, get here. You motherfucker! I won’t ask twice!” You’re pacing the library, cursing the angels’ existence once again. “I know it was you!”

Gabriel appears out of thin air. He chuckles and winks at you. “I only gave Dean a break. He wanted to know how it feels to fight for you again. Your husband was missing the thrill of winning you over.”

You roll your eyes. “Dude, we role-play almost every week. This doesn’t mean he wants to forget we are married and that he got me pregnant for the third time. Stay out of our business.”

Dean chuckles as you growl in Gabriel’s direction. “Damn, sweetheart. I knew I married the right girl!”

“Damn right, Winchester. Now follow me to our bedroom…”

You’re not casual. You’re obsessive, and quietly insane. You don’t become the top of your field like this while being anything else. It’s easy to contain yourself in this kind of work, in it’s order and chaos all at once. There are rules that you to follow, then break, and everyone praises you and you glow like a diamond catching sunlight.

Not absorbing it. Because it passes right through, and it’s never enough, and you get addicted to it. The praise, from these living gods. They all love you, and you bask in it, and then you look at him.

Bucky.

The only one who doesn’t praise you. Who doesn’t treat you like a good dog, bringing them treats and newspapers. When you met him, he barely treated you like anything at all. Tony had introduced you, he’d looked you up and down, shaken your hand, and walked away.

But you.

You’d been a fucking goner.

Bucky’s handsome in the way you used to only see in movies. Your exact type, from the hair to the eyes to the way he carries himself. Silent and in control, kind but not overly nice, polite without expectation. You’d made it two years without developing a crush on anyone. Somehow, surrounded by some of the world’s most handsome men, you’d maintained that tiny sliver of your sanity.

Then there was Bucky. And you lost yourself.

You’re not weird around him. You’re not a stalker, and you’re not that kind of insane. You’re perverted in the privacy of your head, drooling over his massive hands and muscles, but swallowing it before it leaks out of your lips. You don’t react when Tony says his name, save for a traitorous pulse in your cunt.

“You ready to look at his arm?” Tony asks, and you hum.

“Think so. Just maintenance?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tony sighs. “I’d work on Terminator myself, but Cap says I spend the whole time looking like I want to throat chop him. So,” he shrugs. “Don’t look like you wanna throat chop him.”

You laugh softly, and grab the tools off the bench. It’s not a big deal. You’re the only person besides Tony, in the whole building, who’s qualified to work on Bucky’s arm.

But that means you get to be close to him. Just the thought of it makes your skin hot, your heart buzzing more than thumping, your fingers fidgeting with the straps of your toolkit as you restlessly wait.

Bucky says your name, and your head shoots up. He’s there. He’s right there, and watching you with those careful, beautiful eyes.

“Hi,” you say, and it sounds so pathetically breathless.

Bucky tilts his head. His hair looks soft. You want to run your fingers through it, to pull on it, to feel it tickling over your face as he ruts into your drooling pussy-

He’s staring at you. He must’ve said something that you didn’t hear. Fuck.

“What?”

His lips twitch. Just the smallest movement up, almost impossible to catch. Your heart skips, and you almost miss his words again.

“You the one workin’ on me today?” His voice is low. It rolls through the air like thunder.

You wonder, if there’s any part of him that isn’t addictive.

You’re here for a job. You’re here to give him medical treatment. You plaster a sweet smile on your face, and gesture to the chair. You can be normal about this.

“Tony has bad bedside manner,” you say smoothly, and Bucky chuckles.

God, that’s worse than the smile. It echoes through your chest, and you almost choke on it. How fucking bad you want him.

“He does call me Schwarzeneggerevery time I’m here,” he mutters, crossing the room. “Don’t even know what that means.”

You hum, pretending to look at your tools. He’s sitting down next to you. Your knees are bumping. You’re normal. “Arnold Schwartzinagor. Actor who played the Terminator.”

“Ah.” Bucky pauses. “Sam calls me that, too. It a good movie?”

“It’s fine.” You shrug. “If you like stuff from the 80s.”

“I don’t know things from the 80s.”

You laugh softly, and look up with an apology on your tongue. You find Bucky staring at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes are so intense, you think they can see right through you. To the lust, pounding in your bloodstream. You have to open your mouth to breathe. Bucky’s eyes flick down. Just tracking a movement. Nothing about you.

You kick yourself internally, and push the casual smile back into place.

“I think you’d like some of it.” You reach for his arm, and Bucky turns it palm up, still staring at you. “I mean, any decade will have it’s ups and downs.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You run your fingers over the plates of metal, and for a second, forget all about the Bucky attached to them. It’s a beautiful artwork of technology. Overlapping, gold-inlaid, smooth under your fingers. You turn the wrist slowly, and there’s only a faint whir. No clicks. Shuri must be using a muffler, or some kind of fluid that moves the wires instead of gears-

“You want me to go?”

Your head shoots up, a panicked flush spreading over your cheeks. “No- No- I- I’m just-“

Bucky raises his brows, light amusement dancing in his eyes. Your words falter. He’s fucking with you.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, and Bucky chuckles again.

God, that sound. It’s going to be the death of you.

“It’s just- It’s amazing technology.” You mumble defensively, and Bucky shrugs.

“I can tell, from the way you’re eye fuckin’ it.”

“Eye fucking.” You shake your head, biting back your smile. “How do you even know what that means?”

“Too much time with Sam.”

“Hm,” you grab your screwdriver, running your hands up the mock muscle—he should be thanking Shuri even more, she didn’t have to give him biceps—looking for a panel. “Tony told me you weren’t going to talk.”

“Tony’s got that bad bedside manner,” Bucky shrugs with his good arm. “You gonna be nicer to me, doll?”

You just hum, ducking your head to hide your flush. Doll. He called you doll.

And Bucky huffs an amused laugh, at your non-answer. But he keeps talking to you. He tells you what Sam’s already gotten him to watch, and what Steve’s trying to get him to watch next, and what Steve’s saving so they can look at it together.

“Is Star Wars any good?” He asks, and you snort.

“Do you like cowboys?”

“I’m neutral.”

“Do you like space?”

“Yeah,” he pauses, then mutters, “I wanted to go to the moon. When I was a kid.”

You look up, and find a faraway look, etched over his handsome features. Your smile softens, and you lower your voice to a whisper, because this feels like a secret. “Yeah?”

Bucky nods, his eyes finding yours again. “I heard we got up there eventually.”

“We did. A few times.” It’s hard to hold his gaze. An unbearable ache is staring to pool between your thighs. “But now there are aliens on earth, so the final frontier is less… Coveted.”

Bucky’s lips twitch. It seems to be the closest he really gets to smiling. You want to see it over, and over, and over again.

“I think you’d like Star Wars.” You’re still whispering. You don’t know why.

“Alright,” Bucky says. And that’s it. He just… Trusts your words.

He asks for you again, next week. Tony claps you on the shoulder and thanks you, because Christ, he stares at me and I feel like I’m under surveillance. You roll your eyes and don’t respond. It doesn’t feel like that when Bucky stares at you, but he also does stare at everyone. So you’re not special. You’re just another person in his line of sight.

“I tried those donuts you were talkin’ about,” he tells you one afternoon, and you hum.

It’s the new routine. Bucky comes for you to work on his arm. You’re normal about it. You talk like people, and his lips twitch, and you feel something press on top of your chest, trying to gnaw your heart right open.

“Liked them,” he adds, staring at you. As always.

You hum, looking at him under your lashes. “Did you have the cookies and cream?”

He nods. “Just like you told me to.”

You smile despite yourself. It’s those small confirmations that he thinks about you, which get you the most. It means you mean something to him. It drives you insane.

“Sam says there are all kinds of ice cream flavors now, too.”

“Sam’s right.”

Bucky sighs. “Hate it when that happens.”

You laugh, a bubbly, pathetic sound that only Bucky pulls out of you. His fingers twitch under your hand, and you glance up.

It would be wise, if you stopped doing that. Every time you find him staring at you, you feel fucking insane.

“You should try cotton candy ice cream,” you murmur. “It’s fucking crazy.”

“That is my favorite kind of thing.”

“I know.”

Bucky’s lips twitch, and your heart almost bursts. “You got a good place? For ice cream?”

You shrug. “The grocery store?”

Bucky grunts, and his fingers twitch again. You focus back on his hand, because you don’t understand why they keep doing that. The rest of the session passes, and Bucky smiles at you before he goes, and you hold onto it like he just handed you a pearl-strung noose. Clutched between your teeth and priceless, but making your breathing short.

The rest of the day always passes in a daze, after you see Bucky. The seconds rush past you in an avalanche, and then you’re in your room, and  you let it take over.

How much you want him. How much you need him.

You lay, flat on your back in bed, and let your thoughts run wild. Bucky’s massive hands, one cool and one burning hand, would wander up your thighs. He’d shove your knees open, and kiss over the sensitive, hidden patches of skin. The stubble he’s been growing would scrape and tickle, as he kissed over your weeping pussy.

“All for me?” He’d murmur, and you’d nod helplessly. “You just walk around, pussy leakin’ because of how bad you need it?”

And you’d whimper. You do. There’s nothing you can do to help it, but save that desire for locked doors and hot, tangled sheets. Your fingers—smaller than Bucky’s, but all you have—rub over the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading your arousal as you picture that it’s Bucky instead. You push one finger in slowly, then a second one because you need them to stretch you like Bucky’s would.

“Messy girl,” he’d coo in your ear, and your back arches. You start to fuck yourself, slow and tentative as your thoughts run wild.

This is what just one of his fingers would feel like. Pumping in and out of you, his palm grinding down on you clit until you’re trembling beneath him. You’d try to push up into his hand, but he’d shove you right back down and kiss over your throat. Licking and nipping and driving you out of your fucking mind.

“Buckyyyy...” You moan at the air, and when you squeeze your eyes shut you can almost feel him.

“There you go, babydoll,” he’d kiss under your ear, his body pressing over yours. Warm and massive, pinning you to the bed, forcing you to just take it. “That’s it. You like that, don’t you. Like fallin’ apart on my fingers.”

You whimper and grab at the sheets. Your wrist aches, and you can’t hit that gooey, wet spot inside you, but god you just need to cum.

“I know,” Bucky would hit deeper. Wet, lewd sounds would fill the room, as he pounded his fingers into you at an unforgiving pace. “I know, sweet girl. C’mon, show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

Your back arches off the bed. Your hand shoots over your mouth as you moan and cry out his name, your thighs shaking and pussy squeezing down on your fingers. You lay there for a while after you’re done, holding the sheets in a vague form of Bucky.

Tomorrow, you’re going to see him again. Maybe just over breakfast, or passing in the hall. But you’ll see him. And you’ll have to look him in the eyes, and pray that he can’t see it just under your features. That all he’d ever need to do it touch your head, and you’d fall to your knees.

You’re devoted to him. He thinks of you as a friend, and he’s not your boss, but he’s boss adject, and there’s nothing about him that’s accessible. There’s no world where this ever goes beyond fantasy.

But god, you’re going to fantasize. You can’t hurt anyone, by just fantasizing.

That’s what you’ll tell yourself over and over, to avoid the guilt.

It’s all just a fantasy.

You‘re perfectly professional about it. It’s not Bucky’s fault that he’s so handsome it feels like you shouldn’t be allowed to look at him. You can keep your desire bottled up, keep in the warmest, wettest pits of your stomach. It can seep out between your thighs when it becomes too much to bare. It can breed into itself and spread up into your heart, festering in the dark. But Bucky will never see it. You’ll be good, and you’ll act sane, and that will be it.

He’s been through too much already, to add your insatiable, ardors devotion to his list of problems.

You’ve developed an easy friendship. That’s all you’ll allow yourself to have, all you let yourself think about in his presence. When you’re working on his arm, you don’t think about those big, cold fingers being buried in your pussy until you’re alone in your room. All your daydreams are trapped in your sheets, and your moans absorbed and locked in your pillowcase.

You think about Bucky pinning you down with a warm, splayed hand on your abdomen. About his smirk, as he bullies three metal fingers into your pussy, forcing a perfect stretch before fucking you like a toy. His cold thumb swiping over your clit, sending shivers through your body. His eyes gleaming and attention burning, as he drags out orgasm after orgasm.

That hand would be like having a personal fuck machine, and he’d act like it until the very end. All taunting and teasing until you were spent and limp below him. Then he’d kiss the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the space between your eyes. He’d coo about what a good girl you were for him, and you’d whimper, your voice lost from screaming his name.

“What’re you thinking about?” Bucky says, sitting next to you at the kitchen counter.

You swallow, and shrug meekly. You never feel small around anyone but him, but you’ve never been this lost in anyone but him. It’s a miracle no one’s noticed, how Bucky shows up and suddenly you’re all flushed cheeks and girly giggles. You might as well be twirling your hair and kicking your feet. It’s pathetic. You can’t stop.

“Nothing?” Bucky pushes a little, and you give him a close-lipped, full smile.

“Nope.”

“You looked like you were thinkin’ about something.”

“I wasn’t.” You look back to the sandwich you’d been working on. Bucky keeps staring at you. He always does. “Nothing going on up here, Barnes.”

Bucky’s lips twitch.

The whole world seems brighter, like he’s just like some holy kind of candle.

“I don’t believe that,” he murmurs, and you shrug.

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Good for you.”

“It is, isn’t it,” he chuckles. “I’m gonna love being right.”

You blink, shooting his a sideways look. “Being… Right?”

“I know you’re thinkin’ about something.” He shrugs. “I’ll figure out what.”

Oh. Under no circumstances can he find out what you’re thinking about. “It’s not anything interesting,” you try lamely, and Bucky smirks.

“Ah. So it’s something.”

“I- That’s-“ You sputter. “Why do you even care-“

“I like knowin’ what you’re thinking,” he shrug. “It’s always interesting.”

You blink at him. For some reason, that makes your throat close up, your eyes burning with embarrassing tears. Your knees are wobbling, and you’re sitting down. You grunt and look back to your sandwich, and Bucky chuckles.

“C’mon. Tell me.” He leans closer. There’s a gravity, from his heat, and it makes you want to just collapse over his chest.

You look at him from the corner of your eye, and you won’t tell him. That’s against the rules. It defeats the purpose.

But god, he’s looking at you. Really looking at you. You can count each shade of blue in his eyes. If you move just an inch, your noses might bump.

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, and Bucky’s brow knits.

He looks down to your sandwich. Then back to you. Adorable confusion flashes over his face. “You should… Uh- Eat.”

You nod, and he clears his throat, leaning back. You wish you could grab the collar of his shirt, and drag him back.

“You ever seen this thing called the Princess Bride?” He asks, not touching any food himself.

Just sitting there. With you. You try not to think about it too much.

You nod, chewing on your sandwich with puffed out cheeks. “’S a really good movie-“

“Chew then swallow, doll.” Bucky’s lips twitch, and you flush and obey.

“It’s a good movie,” you mumble, giving him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

Bucky shrugs, his gaze dropping to your mouth. Your breath hitches. You go perfectly still, afraid that if you shift, he’ll look away.

His tongue darts over his lips. He tips his head, his forearm flexes as he curls his fingers, and your breathing gets shallow. Something electric has shifted in the air, and it’s making you dizzy. Bucky reaches up slowly, and if you weren’t rooting in place, you think you’d fall out of your chair.

His thumb wipes the spot right above your lips, and a shock rushes through your body. His nostrils flare, his eyes lock onto yours, and his touch lingers.

When he pulls back, the movement is slow. Controlled. Your tongue flicks out, to lick where his thumb had been. Bucky’s nostrils flare.

There’s something on his thumb. Tiny little breadcrumbs that must’ve been stuck to your cheek from the sauce. Bucky brings the finger up to his mouth, holding your gaze, and sucks the crumbs away. Heat pools in your tummy, and your thighs press together.

Bucky stares at you. You grab the edge of your seat with white  knuckles, trying to keep yourself from falling off.

“Crumbs,” he mutters, and you nod.

“Yeah.”

“I- Uh-“ He coughs, and looks away. Disappointment sinks like a boulder into your stomach.

You don’t know what you expected. Hell, you’ve told yourself what to expect. You’re not allowed to be disappointed by him. You’re not allowed to want anything from him, except for what your head can offer.

“Sam’s been tryin’ to make me watch it,” he mutters, and you blink.

“What?”

“Princess Bride.”

“Oh.” You’re still a little drunk on his proximity. He smells like something rich and spicy, and it’s fogging up your brain. “Cool.”

Bucky nods. “We’re gonna watch it next Friday. In that common room, where Stark makes us do game nights.” He gives you a sideways look. “I never see you at those.”

You shrug. “I’m not an Avenger.”

“Stark says you get invited.”

You do. But that would be a night of drinking and laughing and being closer to Bucky than you can handle, so you usually lock yourself in your room and pretend he’s fucking you stupid.

“You’re invited to movie night, too.” He adds casually, and you swallow.

Movie night. Where Bucky would be near you. In the dark. You can’t go there. You’ll lose your mind.

But he’s looking at you with such dim, cautious light in his eyes. There’s no expectations. Just hope. And it pulls the words out of you before you can stop them.

“Oh- Okay.”

Bucky beams, and that makes it worth it. The risk, that he might brush your hand in the dark and you’ll moan loud enough for everyone to hear.

He reaches up, and wipes a few more breadcrumbs from your cheeks. Time seems to stop, when he touches you. It’s dangerous, and you barely manage not to fall all over him before he pulls away.

“You get messy,” he mutters, and oh, God.

You shouldn’t have said yes. Why the fuck did you say yes. Now you’re going to have to sit next to him, after that.

You get messy. He has no idea.

That night, you end up back in your bed with a vibrator pressed over your panties. It makes the feeling stronger, with the friction of the fabric, and you toss your head back. It’s easier and easier to get lost in the fantasy, lately. The better you know him, the clearer it gets.

You can almost feel his hands, mapping over the curves and soft dips of your body. You can almost smell him.

He mouths at your breast, pinching and rolls your nipple between metal fingers. You make a broken, pathetic sound, and he smirks.

“I know, doll. Too much, isn’t it?”

You whimper, pressing the vibrator down. Bucky hums, his hand wrapping around yours, and your hips jerk when he angles it to shove right against your clit.

“Too much,” he coos, making out with the softness of your breast. “I’m barely even touchin’, and you’re already about to fuckin’ fall apart for me.”

Your eyes roll back, as Bucky starts to guide the vibrator up and down. Your mouth falls open in a long moan, as he grabs your hips and pushes them higher, further exposing your pussy. He bites at your nipple, then turns his attention to the neglected one. You writhe in the sheets, gasping his name, and he smiles.

“Dirty girl.” He pushes your hand back, just enough for him to rip away your panties, exposing your cunt to the cold air. “Look at that, pretty little pussy fuckin’ shining for me.”

You grind down, trying to find friction on the sheets. Bucky pushes the vibrator against your bare pussy, and your eyes roll back in your head. He starts kissing all over your chest, pawing at your breasts and swirling his tongue around you nipples, sending electric shock through your body. He licks the sensitive buds the same way he licked his thumb. Your hips start to roll mindlessly, as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap.

When you cum, it’s with a cry of his name. The coil snaps, and heat floods out of your pussy, all over the vibrator and your hand. Your body convulses with the sheer force of it, and Bucky kisses down. Over your abdomen, your hips, your inner thighs.

“What a mess, baby.” He mocks, before pressing the sweetest kiss to your clit.

You sob, trembling in the sheets, and grab at his hair.

But your hand finds nothing.

Because it’s just another fantasy, kept in the confines of your mind.

Movie night was a bigger mistake than you could’ve ever imagined.

You show up, and it’s just Bucky and Sam. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, because men are strange creatures.

“Stevie’s on a mission,” Bucky says, staring at you like he’s seeing an angel. Like he didn’t invite you.

There’s an odd rasp to his voice, too. Maybe he’s just tired.

Sam says your name, that signature, I know something that everyone else doesn’t smirk on his face. You don’t think much if it. He always has it, even when he doesn’t know shit.

“Buck told me you’d be comin’. I didn’t believe him.”

“Sam.” Bucky grunts, and Sam shrugs.

“What? I didn’t.” He grins at you. “You never leave your lab-“

“She leaves her lab.” Bucky gives you an apologetic look, but you just laugh.

“No, he’s right. I really don’t.”

Bucky sighs, rolls his eyes, and pats the seat next to him. You smile to yourself, taking a long breath before you move. You’re going to be normal about this. Very, incredibly normal. So normal, they’ll think something’s wrong, because no one’s ever been this normal in history.

You last ten minutes.

The movie starts. You’ve seen it before, but you try to pay attention to every, tiny detail. The only other option is paying attention to Bucky. To the weight of him at your side, the way his knee brushes against yours and his arm is slung over the back of the couch. You’ve never seen him so relaxed and tense, all at once. He’s sunken into the cushions, but whenever you look over, his jaw is tight.

You could swear you catch his gaze, once or twice. If you do, he looks away immediately. And you feel it, that buzzing heat over your skin. But you’re supposed to be watching the movie. He’s supposed to be watching the movie. So you really, really try not to look over.

Bucky’s knee pushes against yours, and you swallow. His fingers trail near your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around your stomach to suppress the shiver. He’s warm. So fucking warm you can feel it, blooming in your core. You shift in your seat, and you’re already wet.

The movie isn’t even a third of the way done.

Bucky’s fingers rest on your shoulder. It’s so light, so casual, you’re not even sure he knows he’s doing it. You take the risk, and turn to fully look at him. He’s gotten even more relaxed, the knit of his brows loosened, pretty pink lips parted as he watches the TV. You want to reach up, and trace the stubble of his jaw. Maybe kiss up the column of his throat, dig your nails into his pecs and make out with that full, perfect mouth.

You let out a tiny sigh. Bucky doesn’t react to it. Too lost in the movie. Not paying you any mind.

And you should look away. You’re not here to Bucky watch.

You turn your head for three whole seconds, before your eyes start to ache. As if they can’t stand not to look at him. You try to resist it, but it plays over and over, on a loop in your brain. The image of him in the dark. The heat from him, almost penetrating under your skin and making you rise up like a balloon. Your head is in the clouds. You have to look at him.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it. Bucky’s hand drops from your shoulder, down to your upper arm, and your breath hitches.

Your eyes shoot open, and Bucky’s right there. Staring at you, with the same intense, focused need that’s clawing at your ribs and up your throat.

He grabs your chin, between strong but gentle fingers. You swallow, letting your gaze trail down his body. His massive chest, torso that looks perfect to hook your legs around, his thick thighs and his crotch.

The bulge, pushing through his sweats. It looks thick. Long and thick, demanding some attention. You look back to Bucky with your best, doe-eyed pout. He smirks, and leans down to kiss you. It’s slow and deep, his tongue swiping over your lower lip before pushing into your mouth. You moan, and Bucky weaves his hair through your hair, tugging slightly. Your second moan is downright pathetic. You grab his thigh, letting your nails brush against the outline of his cock.

Bucky hisses against your lips, and pulls back. You bat your lashes at him, and his lips twitch.

“Messy girl,” he mutters, before pressing a sweeter, mocking kiss to your lips.

He pulls away too quickly, but before you can give chase, you’re lost in a daze. Bucky’s pulling down his pants, taking his boxers with him. His cock springs free, thick and veiny, massive even in his own hand. He strokes himself slowly, giving you a prompting, amused look. You swallow, licking your lips.

“C’mon, doll,” he beckons. “Show me what you can do.”

Almost in a trance, you nod. Bucky’s eyes darken, as you crawl over his lap. You move his hand away, and fist his cock in one hand. He grabs the back of your neck, not to push, but for balance. A low, guttural sound rolls through his chest as you start to pump him, and you smile to yourself.

He really is perfect. A heavy, certain weight in your hand, jumping slightly whenever you squeeze him near the base. You shift back on your knees, using your other hand to massage his balls. He hisses, his grip tightening on your neck, and you smile. 

When you look at him, there’s nothing but pure devotion in his gaze. You squeeze again, then pick up your pace, and he groans out your name.

You kiss him, pushing his head back against the couch cushions. He grunts, but lets you guide him. As if he knows that it’s all just a show, before you let him fuck your face like an animal.

“Relax, baby,” you breathe against his lips.

Bucky lets out a deep, rough laugh. “Little hard to do that right now.”

You giggle, swiping your thumb over the slit of his cock. “Is it? Hard?”

Bucky groans, and deepens the kiss. You slide off of him, before he can just grab your hips, pick you up, and sit you on his dick.

You move back, lowering down to your stomach so you’re eye level with his dick. He’s pulsing in your hands, trying to hold himself back. You don’t want him to. You want him to cum everywhere. Down your throat and over your face and tits, claiming you in one of the most primal ways possible.

“Doll…” Bucky rasps, and you look up at him under hooded eyes. He’s a wrecked. Bulging muscles and sweat, slicking on his brow. “Don’t tease- Jesus-“

You wrap your mouth around him, and take him as deep as you can go. He bumps against the back of your throat, but you suppress your gag reflex, relaxing to try and get even more. Your nose brushes against the hair at base of him. Your tongue presses flat against Bucky’s shaft, your fingers still working his balls, and he fists his hand in your hair.

“So- So fuckin’ warm-“ He chokes out. “Holy- You’re somethin’, sweetheart- God-“

You hum, and Bucky’s hips jerk up. He stutters out an apology, but you just moan again. He tries to pull you off, muttering more apologies, and you dig your nails into his thigh. You want it. You want him to use you.

He gets it, after a moment. His grip on your hair tightens. He starts slow, jerking his hips up as he pushes you a little further down, before yanking you back. You moan around his cock, drool falling from your swallow lips. Your eyes roll back. He’s using you, god, he’s using you, and it’s the best fucking thing in the world.

Bucky fucks your face like a fleshlight, and you grind your ass up against nothing. He hits the back of your throat, over and over, salty and heavy on your tongue. The sounds he makes are beautiful and sinful, and-

“Something on my face, doll?”

You blink, and Bucky’s cock isn’t in your mouth anymore. You smack your lips, trying to find it. Bucky frowns at you, the light of the movie making him even more, impossibly handsome. Sam ignores you both, popcorn stuffed in his mouth.

Bucky looks worried. He said something.

“Hm?”

“You were, you were- Uh-“ He clears his throat, then shakes his head. “Never mind.”

He looks back to the TV, and your face burns. His thigh is pressed right against yours. You can swear, when you lick your lips, you can still taste his dick.

You’re so, so fucked.

It only gets worse.

Eating breakfast becomes a trial, because Bucky is always there, and you’re always thinking about his fingers while he eats. How they’d feel stuffed down your throat, gripping your hips, scissoring deep inside of you. He wipes cream cheese off your cheek, and you almost moan.

“You feelin’ alright?” Bucky says, always so caring and worried, and you nod weakly.

“Yeah. Just- Just tired.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t believe you, but lets it go. If you were smarter, you’d be avoiding him. But you’re not. And you still have to work with him, anyway. It makes avoiding him rather impossible.

For a while you cling onto the idea that work would be sacred. That while Bucky’s in your office and you’re examining his arm, it’s purely professional. Not a single dirty thought.

You last about a week, with that one.  Bucky startles you walking in. You trip, and he catches you around your waist.

“Careful,” he smiles down at you, all handsome and stupid.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, and you could’ve sworn a flood gushed out between your legs.

Bucky’s nostrils had flared, and he’d helped you up to your seat. You’d already had the new fantasy, blooming in your mind like the little fucking pervert that you were. You’d tried to shove it down, swaying in the middle of the room, but then you’d looked at him. Sitting with his legs spread in your chair. And you’d been lost.

You imagined climbing into his lap. His arm wrapping around you as you sat down on his cock, grinding slowly, lashes flutters as he kneaded and pulled at your hips and breasts. He’d stand up, taking you with him like you weighed nothing, and pin you to the wall. One arm would stay around you, holding you in place as his mouth started to explore your dripping cunt.

His tongue would work you open, pushing in and out of your pussy. He would’ve already cum inside of you, and every stroke of his tongue would send a wave of your mixed arousals over his beard. You’d watch him, moaning his name, and his thumb would bully and flick and tease your clit, until your were dazed and gasping for air and-

Bucky says your name, and you could slap yourself. This is getting out of hand.

“Sorry,” you mumble, sitting next to him. He smiles at you, so kind.

Always so kind.

“You’ve been kinda out of it, lately.” His words are casual. You still daydream about shooting yourself and running away.

“Just getting lost in thought,” you murmur, and he hums.

“Anything I can help with?”

You shake your head, because if you speak you’ll start begging. Please, please, please, he’s the only one who can help you, you’re going insane with how much you need him, and he could save you, he could really save you-

“Movin’ usually helps me.” He offers softly. You almost don’t hear him. “Y’know. Using my body. Remembering that it’s mine.”

“Yeah?” You say softly, cleaning the panel near his shoulder. He looks at you, and you risk looking back.

You can’t read that expression. You’re not sure you want to.

“Yeah,” he mutters. His gaze might flick down to your lips, but you don’t trust your own mind anymore. “You wanna try it with me? I head to that gym in the basement every night. It ain’t bad.”

And you should say no, but you can’t help it. You nod, and Bucky’s lips twitch, and God, what you won’t do just so he smiles.

You will torture yourself, apparently. Bucky’s too hot to be allowed in a gym. Wearing a tank top that shows off his massive arms, smiling at you all lazy, in the way that’s more of a guard than the slip that you always crave, but a smile all the same.

First, you try walking on the treadmill and just watching him the mirror. He’s lifting weights, and his arms, they should be classified as weapons. You want those biceps keeping you in a head lock, against his chest or at his side. Keeping you still, while his cock pounds relentlessly into your pussy.

Bucky meets your gaze in the mirror. His lips twitch, and you look away, face burning.

You feel him, more than you see him coming over. The gravity of his presence, you think you’d be able to feel him blindfolded and dropped in a crowd of a million people.

“Come on,” he offers you a hand. “Lemme show you something.”

And you can’t say no to him. You really should learn how.

Because the something is training. Wrestling. Throwing fucking punches and trying to get the other down.

“Bucky, I can’t-“

“Yeah, you can.” He raises his fists, nodding to your own. “Up, doll.”

You sigh, raising them slowly. “You’re going to kick my ass-“

“I am. And then you’re going to get better.”

You scoff—he’s ridiculous—but listen. Bucky smirks, and lunges. You yelp and try to scramble away, but he’s too fast. You’re pinned under him in seconds, whacking at his arms and wiggling.

“Bucky- Get off-“

He laughs, standing up with a proud grin. You’ve never seen him so relaxed, so confident. It makes you hornier than you ever could’ve imagined.

He’d been over you. Everywhere over you. Pinning you down and manhandling you, and- Oh God-‘

“Up,” he beckons, and you swallow.

“I- I don’t know-“

“Yeah, you do.” He gives you a playful smile. “Get up.”

You sigh, and scramble to your feet. Bucky raises his fists again. You narrow your eyes, and match.

He chuckles. “Getting competitive?”

You shrug. “You wanted me to.”

Something flashes in his eyes. You’re not sure how to read into it.

“Damn right I do,” his voice is lower. You’re not imagining that.

You don’t get time to think about it, before he’s moving again. You hold your own exactly a second longer than before, but it ends the exact same way. You, pinned under Bucky’s broad, strong body. His face is pressed near your breasts, his fingers digging into your hips, his legs shoving yours apart to stop you from flailing around.

It goes on longer than it shoulder. This strange game that you like playing more than you should. Bucky starts trying to properly get you to throw a punch, but he gives up fast. Soon you’re more play wrestling than doing anything else. You’re giggly and dazed, charging at him like a bull, and he acts as bored and collected as always, but you can see the amusement dancing in his eyes, every time you try to climb him like a tree.

Then something shifts.

He gets you beneath him, and you try to shove at his chest. He catches your wrists and pins them up over your head. Your breath hitches, and he blinks. His hips drop against yours, and you can feel it. The bulge of his cock, pressing into your core.

He’s hard.

Not fully, but enough. Enough that you can imagine every ridged and curve of him, sliding between the puffy lips of your pussy. Your thighs clench, and Bucky grunts, rutting forward.

You both freeze, and your eyes lock. It’s one of those seconds, where you just stare hopelessly at each other. You almost apologize, but your tongue is limp. Bucky’s face is redder than you’ve ever seen it. His cock twitches in his pants.

And this isn’t a dream or fantasy. Bucky mutters your name, and it’s so real you think your heart might pound of your chest.

Bucky moves first. He clears his throat and moves to his feet.

“Better.” He offers you a hand. “That was…”

He trails off. You stare at each other, lost for words.

Bucky turns, and leaves without another word. You sway in the center of the room, breathing shallow, head spinning.

What the fuck just happened.

Bucky kisses up your spine, his mouth hot and possessive. His tongue flicks against your neck, and his fingers dig into your hips. He drags your ass up in the air and you mewl, pressing your face into the sheets.

“Ah,” he scolds, slapping your soaked, swollen pussy. “Lemme hear you, doll.”

You turn your head, moaning loud and shamelessly. Bucky chuckles, kissing a soft spot on your neck.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, notching his cock against your entrance. “Good girl.”

You coo like a baby bird, flushed and dazed. He’s big, so big that it almost hurts. He doubles over you with a groan, pressing his face into your shoulder as he slowly pushes every inch inside of you. The stretch burns in the best way, and you clench down around him.

Bucky hisses, hips jerking forward. “Careful,” he grunts. “Gonna strangle me.”

“S- Sorry-“

“No,” Bucky leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Nothin’ to apologize for. Just gotta relax, babydoll. Lemme do the rest.”

You hum, and take a deep breath. You’re grounded, in the feeling of Bucky everywhere. His warmer arm wraps around your neck, forcing you up enough for his lips to trail open kisses over your face.  

“That’s my girl,” he mutters against your ear, bottoming fully out. “That’s it. Just take it for me, just like that.”

You mewl, pushing your ass back up, then crying out with delight as Bucky pulls out, and slams back in. He’s met with no resistance, from how your pussy is gushing out with every thrust, every touch, every hot kiss.

But there’s nothing else to be expected. Not with how Bucky’s using you, how worshipful his every touch and kiss is, all while he fucks into you so hard you think the bed is going to break. His breath is hot on your back, the head of his cock drill against that one, gooey spot deep inside you. His cold arm locks around your middle, and his fingers tease and graze over your clit. Rubbing in tight little circles, making your eyes roll back in your head.

Bucky grunts, hauling you up so you’re pressed against his chest. You’re pinned down on his cock now, wet and warm and tight. So fucking tight that it pulls a low, rumbling moan from his chest. His hips slam up in a barely controlled rhythm, chasing more of your heat. You’re limp in his arms. Dazed and smiling like you’re drunk. Bucky uses his arm around your neck to push your head further back, and you have the nerve to fucking giggle.

You’re so beautiful like this that he almost cums right there. Fluttering lashes and the sweetest sounds, you pussy milking him like a machine. He kisses you because he can’t help it, and you hum happily, grinding your ass down into him.

He needs you to cum first. He gropes at your clit, letting his fingers fumble for a second to work you up into a teased, messy frenzy, before he pushes down and rubs in a steady, unyielding rhythm. You cry out his name, squeezing down so hard on his cock, and Bucky buries his face in your neck.

He cums, so hard that his vision goes white. Thick ropes of cum spurt over his hand, squeezing hard at the base of his cock.

It’s not as warm as you’d be, he thinks.

And he thinks. All the time, Bucky just thinks about you. About how you’d feel, molding around him. About how you’d sound right in his ear, how you’d get smiley and drool, and he’s feed you his fingers just so you have something to do with that pretty mouth. You’d moan around them, and he’d thrust up into you so hard he’d knock the damn worries out of your head.

It’s his favorite time of the day, this. Your rooms are closer than you seem to think, or you just forget how good his hearing is.

And every night, right before bed, he gets to settle into the mattress and beat his cock into his hand, listening to you moan and call his name. He’d never tell you. You deserve better, than a broken robot like him. He counts himself lucky he even gets to be your friend, because he’s a man well practiced at restraint. At not getting what he wants.

But this space, where no one can see, he allows himself things. He allows himself you.

But only ever in his head.

✦End note: this might be one of my fave bucky fics i just got to be soooo horny with it✦

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