#izzy!

You and Bucky were no strangers to nightmares; over the years, both of you were frequently plagued by them. They never became any easier to manage.

You live in the now, but there is one thing that will always and forever be a part of your past.

The Super Soldier serum.

The Soldier is part of who you are - who you both are. It's a part of Bucky, a part of you.

It wasn't an easy decision to make; to take that acceptance of what the past had set you on, and face forward.

Bucky shouts, bringing you out of your light, fitful sleep with a jolt. You throw yourself up and away from the bed with one quick motion.

It takes a moment for your vision to clear, and your breathing to steady. By the time your heart slows back down to normal, you're aware of Bucky was sitting up, leaning back with his hands braced on either side of his hips, breathing harshly, and panting as sweat dripped down his face and onto his chest, fingertips glistening with moisture.

Your pulse hadn't even calmed down enough for you to register what caused it to speed up in the first place when you exhale sharply, seeing Bucky crouched in the middle of the bed, face contorted in the middle of a scream. You can't see his eyes behind the glare the moonlight throws at you, but you get the feeling he's looking right at you.

He's looking at you.

"Bucky," you say, softer than you intend to, eyeing him as you finish sliding up onto your feet in the floor. "Hey. It's okay, Bucky. Breathe," you offer, holding your hands out open and out to your sides, to show you mean him no harm.

Bucky doesn't register your words and doesn't stop staring at you. His eyes are wide, his fists clenched.

"It's only me, Bucky," you breathe. It's then you notice how tense his body is; the tic of the muscle in his jaw, the tension in his arms, the way his shoulders hunch. He looks like he's ready for a fight, ready to grab his weapon of choice and take aim for the kill.

"Bucky, look at me," you request, the words coming out as soothing as you think you can get them. "Breathe with me. Come on. It's just me. You're safe," you reassure, still maintaining a safe distance.

It takes a couple of seconds, but you can see the way his shoulders visibly relax when he finally looks up at you, breathing deeply and still shaking. The sight of him in the state he was in made your heart ache.

You nod, ready to approach.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and you can hear him swallow audibly. "I…" he falters, pausing, and then he pauses again, exhaling harshly. "I'm sorry." he repeats.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" you ask tentatively, though you doubted he would. Neither of you liked to talk about your nightmares.

"No," he replies, almost immediately, though you can see him glance back at you briefly before his eyes avert back to their spot between his knees. "No, I don't. I don't want to…I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Okay," you agree, "Okay," you repeat again, slowly. "I don't expect you to." you add with a smile, though you doubt he can see it. You sit beside him on the bed.

You let the silence fill the space between you, letting him collect himself. 

Finally, he says, “I don’t want to go back to sleep.” 

You shift, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “Well, what can I do to help?”

Dark, lustful eyes follow your silhouette. "I don't want to think anymore... just let me..." He whispers, the tone of his voice desperate. 

You wordlessly nod, allowing him to pull you into a kiss. There’s nothing quite romantic about the way he kisses you, insatiable and impassioned. The kiss feels longer than it actually is. 

Finally, you break apart, staring at each other for a moment longer before his eyes glance down to where your lips are still slightly parted, watching him. 

Without another word, his cold metal hand slides up your nightshirt, leaving trails of goosebumps in it's wake. He helps you out of your shirt, leaving you in only your sports bra.

His brow furrows. He growls, and you can hear the telltale sound of tearing fabric - and then you’re bare for him, nipples hardening in the cool air. 

You never liked that bra, anyway.

He mutters your name in appreciation, teeth grazing your neck. His hands trail along your body, like he was making sure you were real. 

You wish you could see his brilliant blue eyes, if only to reassure him more. 

He tugs impatiently at the waistband of your shorts, pressing his forehead to yours. You card your fingers in his hair, and before you know it, your shorts are uncaringly tossed to the floor. 

He pauses at the waistband of your underwear. You can feel his hot breath against your neck, his fingers hooked at the waistband.

"Bucky," you plea softly.

That's seemingly all the motivation he needs, and your underwear is added to the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.

He doesn't hesitate to touch your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves.

You mewl, spreading your legs for him, anything to get more attention on your clit.

However, he abandons your clit in favor of something else.

You can feel the cold metal of his fingers In your searing heat, and you squirm. “Bucky, oh, God-” you mutter, biting your lip. 

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You quickly get used to the icy coolness of his fingers, it adds another layer to your pleasure. He buries his two fingers to the knuckle, pumping and curling his fingers just right, making you a wet, wanton mess. 

He hits your G-spot, and you throw your head back, moaning aloud. He hits that spot a few more times before he removes his fingers, making you whine at the loss.

“Suck.” is his simple demand, fingers coated in your slick.

You oblige, sucking his fingers, the faint taste of metal mixed with your own juices.

He groans, and then his fingers - wet with your own spit - go back down to your clit, rubbing it with fast, light strokes.

You moan, clenching around nothing, aching for him.

Eventually, he stops, and you can feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance. He pauses, pressing his forehead to yours. "-needed this so much, Doll. God, I-" he trails off.

You press a kiss to his cheek. "I'm here, Bucky."

He exhales shakily, and suddenly, he buries himself inside of you to the hilt.

The noise that he releases is primal.

You moan at the feeling of being full, and the delicious stretch that comes along with it.

He stays like that for a brief moment, letting you adjust to him before he rolls his hips.

He thrusts sharply, experimentally, before he finds his rhythm, setting a frantic pace, fucking you like he'd never see you again.

He peppers kisses everywhere he can, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your shoulders - as you writhe underneath him, incoherently begging for more. He grips your hips, holding them tightly, muttering slurred praises in your ear.

It was something carnal, something wild and desperate, and it was so fucking good.

His skillfull fingers find your clit once again, and the combination of the attention on your clit and the way he hits your G-spot makes you cry out his name, you orgasm steadily approaching.

You clench around his cock and he groans in appreciation, kissing and nipping at your neck.

There was surely going to be a hickey on your neck and bruises on your thighs when you woke up tommorow, at the rate he was going.

His hips begin to stutter, his breath gets shaky. "'M gonna-" he warns,

You were about to respond when he pinches your clit, and your orgasm hits you suddenly, quickly. You yell his name, milking his cock.

He groans into your hair, whispering your name as he gives a few short, choppy thrusts before he orgasms.

You both sleep nightmare free the rest of the night.

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Taglist:

@rizwritesfandom @motherfuckingstargirl10 @haydens-moles

yo sorry this was vv not good ngl 💁🏻‍♀️ but like I'm really tired yall I'm sorry 🗿✌️ hope y'all enjoyed<3 also the ending was trash