Your pussy clenched around his fingers and for a brief moment, Tommy swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. “‘m gonna make her feel good,” he promised with a smirk on his lips.

You were spread out on your bed as Tommy moved further down to get a proper look at your wet cunt.

“So pretty,” he mumbled to himself.

He would take his time with you tonight. Make you come all over his fingers. Then his tongue. Then his fingers again.

And you were so close to your first orgasm already. His fingers picked up the pace, but his free hand gently grabbed your thigh. It wandered up and up until he reached your middle, finger lightly tapping against your clit.

Your entire body shivered at the touch. A whine escaped your lips, enough of a sign for Tommy to keep going.

And so he did.

His fingers worked relentlessly, but his ministrations on your small bundle of nerves were timed perfectly, giving you another wave of pleasure every time his finger brushed over it in circles.

It didn’t take long for you to come undone. Legs threatening to close, Tommy pushed them apart again.

“We’re not done yet, pretty girl.”

The tension in your abdomen returned once more when Tommy bent down, tip of his tongue teasing your clit this time. You grabbed his dark curls with both of your hands as the man sank between your thighs.

Oh, he devoured you and your sweet pussy.

His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it with precision. Fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, he kept you spread apart for him while your hips bucked up against his face. His moustache was drenched by now, but he loved to have your smell and taste everywhere.

“Tommy-“

All words were lost in your throat when he added a second finger to your cunt, stretching it further. Your second orgasm was approaching, stronger than the first one, threatening to ripple through your body in record time.

“Come again for me, pretty girl.”

You could listen to Tommy’s praises all day. His fingers curled inside you again. They brushed against that sweet spot inside you — once, twice and then another time.

It was enough to sent your body into overdrive. With a loud moan, your orgasm washed over you, legs shaking in Tommy’s grip as you tried to take a deep breath, and another and another, but your pussy still ached.

His tongue pressed against your overstimulated clit again, making you whine for him. Tommy could only grin at your response.

Heat started to rise in your body. You felt like your entire body was on fire when Tommy just continued moving his fingers inside you, making you squirm from side to side. It was too much. The pleasure, the satisfied sounds the man was making and…

And yet you wanted more.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he mumbled against the inside of your thigh before he pushed himself up. Tommy was still wearing his boxers, but his cock was straining against them with how hard he was. If he didn’t get between your soft walls any time soon, he might lose it entirely.

Your pussy was already over sensitive, making you press your legs together as soon as Tommy briefly stepped back to push his boxers down.

“Open your legs again for me, sweetheart.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

When just the tip of his cock brushed against your swollen clit, you shook in his arms. Tommy was hovering above you, arms on either side of your face as he leaned down to capture your nipple in his mouth.

You moaned his name, legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he slowly sank between your folds.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your skin. Tommy’s eyes met yours, wide with desperation as he started to slowly roll his hips against yours. You always felt so good around him but today your pussy squeezed him even more.

From that point on, Tommy did not hold back. His thrusts were hard and quick, chasing his release and trying to bring you another high. You whines against his lips, his hands finding your own and pressing them down hard next to your head.

You couldn’t do anything but take Tommy’s relentless thrusts into you. He filled you out so nicely, pussy so over sensitive that the tension in your abdomen was almost unbearable.

“Tommy, I-“

Words lost in your throat, your legs started to shake around him as the pleasure became so overwhelming. You were ready to let go again, so very close…

“I know, darling. You’re taking me so well. Gonna cum too,” he groaned against your lips, his thrusts growing more frantic as he felt his own orgasm approach.

Tommy took a good look at you. Tits bouncing up and down for him, pupils blown wide and oh, how sinful it felt to have your entire body shake around him. Your moans filled his ears, his hands pressing down harder on yours as he gave you another deep thrusts.

Two more and he tipped over the edge as well. Tommy buried his face in your neck as he spilled inside you, thrusts still going until it tipped you over the edge as well. Hips bucking up in a desperate attempt to process it all, you came another time, letting it wash over you entirely.

Tommy let go of your hands and instead let them roam your hips for a moment, looking down at you.

“Have you seen the mission reports? She’s so precise it’s actually terrifying,” Joaquin had said on the way to Bucky’s apartment, telling every legendary story he had heard about you. “I heard they took down a whole warehouse of mercenaries with a pair of batons. Not even a gun! She sounds mean.”

Sam chuckled, adjusting the bag of soda in his hands. “No way anyone is meaner than Bucky, though.”

“We’ll see, man.” Joaquin grinned. “Maybe she makes him look nice.”

Sam snorted. If that were the case, he was dying to meet you.

But the thing was, as terrifying as you apparently were on the field, Bucky talked about you like you were… fragile.

It started six months ago, when you officially became a couple.

Sam started noticing the way Bucky’s face changed when he mentioned you. He’d have a slight smile that softened the hard lines of his forehead. His voice would lose that slightly gruff tone, growing softer the more he mentioned you. 

And fuck knows he talked about you all the damn time.

Not just about how skilled you were, though Sam had gotten enough secondhand mission briefings to wonder if Bucky was keeping a shrine somewhere. No, he often talked about the little things. Like how you stole the blankets in your sleep. Or how you tried (and failed) to teach Bucky how to use a bo staff. Or how you sent Bucky the stupidest memes at 3 AM, knowing full well you’d have to explain half of them in person. 

And God help them all if you did something impressive— Bucky would pretend to be all casual about it, but then five minutes later, he’d be bringing it up again saying how proud he was of his girlfriend capturing four cops illegally dealing rifles to civilians.

“You’re not subtle,” Sam had pointed out once, after Bucky spent a debrief clearly distracted.

Bucky shrugged, though he was mentally counting down the minutes to when he’d see you again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You got that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’m thinking about my girlfriend’ look.” Sam smirked. “It’s gross, by the way.”

Bucky had just scoffed something under his breath and rolled his eyes. 

So yeah, Sam had never met you. Between your missions and his, the opportunity just never aligned.

But by now, he felt like he already knew you.

And tonight, after months of hearing Bucky talk about you like a hopelessly lovesick super soldier—he and Joaquin were finally going to meet the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend.

—

They had expected you to be brutal. Brash. Maybe even a little cold, given your reputation.

Instead, when Bucky opened the door, the first words out of his mouth were, “Hey, uh—just so you guys know, my girlfriend’s a little nervous about meeting you.”

Sam paused mid-step. What?

Bucky shifted, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s, uh… not really the social type.”

Joaquin raised an eyebrow, shooting Sam a look. Sam could tell he was just as confused. “Your girlfriend?”

“Yes, my girlfriend,” Bucky deadpanned, crossing his arms.

Before Sam could respond, a small blur of white streaked past Bucky’s feet making a beeline for Joaquin, weaving between his legs and rubbing against his boots. It took a second for his brain to catch up, but then— oh. It was the kitten. Alpine. Bucky adopted her a couple weeks ago. Sam had received no less than five photos a day from Bucky over the last two weeks, each one featuring the cat in a different pose, with captions like—

"Look at her lil’ paws." "She fell asleep on my chest." "She just sneezed."

Before Sam could make a funny remark, he heard a voice come from  inside the apartment.

“Alpine, no. Come here, baby,” you said gently.

Sam blinked. That was his girlfriend?

You appeared, peeking out from the kitchen doorway. You looked… normal. Cozy, even. Dressed in comfortable clothes, eyes wide, fingers fidgeting at your sides.

The gears in Sam’s felt like they needed oiling for a second.

This was you? The you?

The same person who had infiltrated high-security facilities without breaking a sweat? The same person who single-handedly takes down crime syndicates left and right? The same woman he read about in news articles and mission reports?

You gave them both a hesitant smile and a small wave. “Um. Hi.”

Joaquin, bless him, recovered from the initial shock first. “Hey!” he said, “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Your smile widened. Your shoulders started to relax. “All good things, I hope.”

Before Sam could even wrap his head around how soft-spoken you were, Bucky stepped closer to you. Gone was the battle-hardened soldier, and in his place was a man so ridiculously in love that it almost made Sam uncomfortable to witness. But no, he was just happy that his friend was happy. In shock, but happy nonetheless.

Bucky reached for you carefully, like you were made of the most fragile glass. His hand found the small of your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles.

“Darlin’, you wanna come say hi properly?” he asked, his voice so different from the barks Sam was used to hearing in the field.

You nodded, stepping fully into view.

And then—because apparently, this wasn’t enough of a shock to Sam’s system—Bucky tucked you against his side protectively and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Oh?

Who the hell was this man, and what the hell had you done to Bucky Barnes?

—

Dinner was homemade.

More specifically, dinner was homemade by Bucky.

Sam had to find a place to sit down when you told him that. He blinked at the plate in front of him, wondering why the hell it looked so… appetising.

“Bucky can’t cook,” he whispered to himself, utterly baffled.

Joaquin shrugged.

“He can now,” you said in a small but proud voice, giving Bucky a playful nudge. “He wanted to impress me.”

Bucky huffed, but even as he rolled his eyes, his hand found your knee under the table, rubbing absentminded circles just because. “Did it work?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think it over. “Mmmmm. Maybe.”

The usually grumpy super soldier actually grinned from ear to ear.

Sam had to rub his damn eyes.

This wasn’t real. This had to be an illusion. Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the couch, and this was some bizarre fever dream where Bucky was, for lack of a better word, domesticated.

Meanwhile, Joaquin had already taken a bite. His eyes went wide. “Damn, Buck.” He shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and made a pleased noise. “You’ve been hiding this skill from us?”

Bucky shrugged, “Wasn’t for you.”

You turned to him. “It’s very good, my love.”

My love.

Since when was Bucky alright with pet names?

Instead of scowling or brushing it off, Bucky just squeezed your hand with his metal fingers, his thumb stroking over your knuckles.

This was Bucky Barnes. Bucky “I’m not exactly a people person” Barnes. Bucky “respect my personal space or I’ll kill you” Barnes.

And here he was, letting you call him ‘my love.’

Sam needed another minute. Maybe even a drink. Anything to help process whatever the hell was happening in front of him.

Joaquin, already on his third bite, didn’t seem as concerned. He waved his fork in the air, nodding approvingly. “I’m impressed. If this is what love does to you, maybe I need to find someone, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said, “I’m sure someone, somewhere, is into birds.”

Joaquin groaned. 

You giggled, but nudged Bucky’s shoulder anyway. “Be nice.”

Bucky just grumbled under his breath as you leaned in and pressed gentle kisses to his metal knuckles.

And that was it. That was the moment Sam lost all grip on reality.

Because Bucky Barnes—the man who used to flinch at the idea of being touched—literally melted.

He let out a pleased hum as he leaned into you, eyes closing for just a second like he was soaking in the moment. And when he opened them again Sam could’ve sworn they were actual heart eyes.

—

Over dinner, Joaquin—ever the eager one—started asking about your fieldwork.

“So, that human trafficking bust you pulled off last month,” he said, buzzing with admiration. “That was insane. I mean, the level of planning—”

You flushed, ducking your head slightly. “Oh, um. It wasn’t that impressive.”

Joaquin shook his head. “Are you kidding? You dismantled their operation without any collateral damage!”

You let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, “I just… I try my best.”

Sam set down his fork, “How many did you have to fight?”

You hesitated for a beat. “Seven,” you admitted, pulling down your sleeves as casually as you could manage. Your knuckles were still scarred, bruises blooming beneath. “It would’ve just been five, but the two younger ones—I told them to stand down but I guess they thought they could take me.”

Bet they underestimated you, Sam thought. 

“How old were they?” Sam asked.

“Probably barely out of their teens,” You shrugged. “They were involved, but… they were scared. Probably in too deep to see another way out. I had to put them down, but I pulled my punches. You know the drill.”

Sam tilted his head, knowing firsthand what it’s like. “That can’t be easy.”

You looked at him and shrugged. “It’s not.”

Joaquin, on the other hand, was still practically vibrating in his seat. “I just don’t get how you’re so effective without even being—” He gestured vaguely. “You know. Mean.”

You blinked. “Mean?”

“Yeah, like… I kinda thought you’d be scarier.”

Bucky snorted into his drink. “She is scary.”

Joaquin shot him a skeptical look. “Dude. She just apologised for taking the last bread roll.”

Bucky didn’t even hesitate. “She’s polite. That doesn’t mean she won’t put you in the ground.”

Joaquin turned to you. “Would you?”

You tilted your head, considering. “If you threatened Bucky, maybe.”

Sam let out a laugh, then shook his head. “I just don’t get it.” He said, “How do you go from that”— he made a concerning stabby gesture— “to this?”

He wasn’t wrong. Sometimes, even Bucky had to admit that the contrast was ridiculous.

You sighed, picking at your food. “Because after all that I just wanna go home.”

Joaquin raised a brow. “And do what? Train?”

“No, I wanna be a gremlin,” you said, amused. “I wanna wear my pajamas, turn off my phone, and pretend I don’t know what daylight is.”

Bucky grinned, nudging your foot under the table. “Tell ‘em about the crafts, sweetheart.”

You shot him a look, but Bucky just smirked.

Joaquin looked up. “Crafts?”

You let out a deep breath, feeling your face heat up. “I, um. I like making things.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Like… what?”

Sam had no idea he was about to sit through a thirty-minute lecture on yarn selection.

Strangely, he kind of enjoyed it.

—

By the end of the night, you had warmed up to them both.

Sam had never seen anything like it—you were quiet, sure, but once you got comfortable, you were easy to talk to. It felt… so at odds with the stories he’d heard about you.

And when Joaquin offhandedly mentioned that he’d always wanted to learn how to crochet, your eyes lit up.

“Oh! I could teach you,” you said, eyes jumping to your feet. “It’s actually very relaxing after sending seven human traffickers to a hospital.”

Joaquin choked on his drink, but had a delighted grin on his face. “Yeah?”

“I’ll give you the basics now.” You turned, holding out a hand. “Jamie, can you pass me the yarn?”

Sam could’ve sworn he heard the record scratch in real-time.

Jamie?

The only two people who had ever called Bucky by any variety of his first name were his therapist and Zemo, and Bucky hated both.

But when you said it, Bucky just… melted.

No grumbling. No don’t call me thats.

Just a look of hopeless adoration as he grabbed the yarn and handed it over like a man under a spell.

And so, with Alpine curled up on Bucky’s lap, you spent the next twenty minutes patiently teaching Joaquin how to crochet.

“Okay, so start by making a slipknot,” you instructed.

Joaquin followed your movements, tongue out like it would help his concentration. “Like this?”

“Just tighten it a little.”

Bucky watched with his chin propped on his fist, looking so ridiculously in love that Sam actually had to look away for a second.

“Dude,” Joaquin said, still focused on his stitches. “Your girlfriend is my new best friend.”

Bucky shrugged. “Get in line.”

Joaquin grinned at you. “Hey, if I can’t do it myself, will you make me a glove or something’?”

Before you could answer, Bucky cut in, “No.”

You looked at your boyfriend. “No?”

Bucky crossed his arms. “I had to earn my sweater. Torres doesn’t get free stuff.”

Sam stared at him. “I can’t believe you own a handmade sweater.”

Bucky shrugged. “Several, actually.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Bucky just smiled, reaching for your hand, tracing slow circles against your palm.

“Yeah, you do.”

And Sam, watching the way Bucky looked at you, like you were the best thing to ever happen to him, had to admit—

Yeah.

He did.

-end.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

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@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

You knew deep down that this was a mistake; your instincts screamed at you that you shouldn’t have followed Sirius when he begged you to come along. The intensity in his gaze, the way his heart ached for you to join him—along with Regulus—made it impossible to say no. With a heavy heart, you left your little brother in the care of those who had inflicted pain upon you and stepped into the unknown alongside Sirius at the Potters’ house.

Sirius was relentless in his reassurances, insisting that the Potters were kind and that you had no reason to fear them. He spoke with such conviction, claiming they would never raise a finger against you, but as the shards of glass glistened ominously at your feet, doubt clouded your mind.

You had been playing a spirited game of pass with James, the vibrant quaffle soaring back and forth between you, laughter escaping your lips like music on the warm afternoon breeze. But in an unfortunate moment, the ball slipped through your fingers, crashing into one of Mrs. Potter’s beautiful vases. The sound was deafening, a shatter so loud it seemed to echo through the air, alerting not only James but likely every neighbor on the block. In that instant, the blissful atmosphere transformed into one of panic, leaving you with the weight of uncertainty and dread.

James muttered a string of curses under his breath, his frustration palpable in the air. You flinched at the disturbance it caused, instinctively dropping to your knees to swiftly clean up the mess sprawled across the floor. The cool surface pressed against your skin as you worked, your heart racing. Sirius had mentioned that the Potters were generally more forgiving than others, so perhaps if you hurried, you could erase the evidence of your mistake before they noticed. You hoped that your diligence would spare you from their displeasure.

“Woah! Hey, what are you doing?” James asks as he watches the glass dig into your knees as you clean it up with uncovered hands.

“I’m cleaning,” you responded in what you hoped was a collected voice but knew that there were some cracks in there.

James quickly put on his deer slippers Sirius gave him for Christmas and stepped over the glass to stop your hands. “Sweet thing, you don’t have to do that, it was my fault the throw was too hard, come on.” He says gently as he brushes off the few small flakes of glass off your palm.

‘But I didn’t catch it. If you just let me clean it up then there would be less trouble and-”

You were cut off by James who put his on your waist and hoisted you up like you weighed nothing. He carried you over to the couch and set you down gently. “There is no trouble, just a knocked-down vase. Sure I might get in trouble with my mom but it was a vase given to her by my grandma, and honestly? My mom's been complaining about it for years.”

The only thing you managed to get from that was the fact that James might get in trouble with his mom. You thought Sirius said that the Potters weren’t as bad as your guys’ parents.

When James went to leave you grabbed his hands tight. Anxiety courses through you as the image of Hogwarts golden boy getting hurt flashes through your mind. That’s not right, he’s too good to be hurt like that. “Tell them it was me, that it was my fault.” Your words are desperate and pleading and James’ eyebrows furrow in concern when he starts to realize what this is all about.

“It’s fine, it was my fault and I’m fine with taking the blame.”

“But I don’t want you to get-”

“Nobody’s gonna get hurt,” James says with conviction. He raises his hand and slowly places it on your cheek. When he wipes away your tears you finally realize how much you were crying and shaking. You sniffle and try to hide your face in embarrassment but James wouldn’t let you.

“No matter what happens here, what you or anybody else does, no one will get hurt. I promise.” He says the last two words a bit softer as his hand travels from your cheek to the back of your neck so he can move your head to his chest.

You let him as you slump against him. You start crying even more and he doesn’t move or give any indication of how uncomfortable he is while crouching. “That’s it, just let it out. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

You hear the door open and hear the silence that follows. You try to move out of James' hold, and he lets you, but he keeps his hand on your back while he looks at his parents. Sirius gives you a concerned look but you look down in your lap.

“What happened, dear?” You look up as Mrs. Potter comes over to the two of you. You choke up before you answer and look over to the corner of the living room instead. When she follows your line of sight she relaxes and sighs. “Oh James, again?”

You look over to James who has now moved to help his dad and Sirius with the groceries. He wears a shit-eating grin as he shrugs. “That boy.” Mrs. Potter says and to your surprise laughs while shaking her head. With a single wave of her wand, the mess is cleared and your injuries are healed as she places her hand on your back as she stands up.

You both make your way to the kitchen. “Do you like hot chocolate? I say it’s a must in the holidays.” With that, your usual smile comes back and you nod. You make your way to where James and Sirius are talking by the counter.

“Thank you, James, for dealing with my mini freak out.” You say quietly as Sirius pulls you into his side.

James just smiles fondly. “How many times have I told you, sweetheart, it’s not dealing with you, it’s loving you. Two different things.” He kisses your head and squeezes your hand before going to help his mom with the hot chocolate.

“I still think it’s disgusting that he’s dating you.”

You laugh and nudge Sirius's side. “Sirius!”

He shrugs his shoulders and holds you closer. “Just saying.”