#kacceywrites

David’s key turned slowly in the lock, a deep sigh escaped his chest. The door creaked open, and there he stood—tall, broad, every inch the detective the city expected him to be. But expectations were heavy, especially being the detective that solved every case.

David stepped inside, silent except for the low thud of his boots on the hardwood. No greeting, no shrug of his coat. Just the slam of the door behind him.

he didn’t have the energy to put on a brave face for you tonight. He was tired. The kind that sleep couldn’t fix.

You were in the kitchen, warming up his dinner. His eyes meet yours-and it wrecks him.

He reaches you in four long strides, and then he’s on you—face to your neck, arms around your waist, clutching you like you’re the only thing keeping him together.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t explain. He just needs.

Your hands move on instinct—into his hair, down his back, over the thick fabric of his coat. You can feel the way he trembles. Not with cold.

He said nothing for a long time.

But you felt everything in the way he held you.

Like he was trying to ground himself. Like he needed to touch something good and kind, to remember the world wasn't made entirely of horror.

His shoulders shuddered once—then again. And then he was quietly falling apart in your arms, his badge and bravado left somewhere between the crime scene and the front door.

You didn’t ask what he’d seen. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You just held him tighter.

As his silent tears dampened your shirt, your heart sank. You knew the darkness he carried, knew the things he had to see to protect others, to try to bring justice to this damn town. But you also knew how he carried his own trauma.

When he unlatched himself from you, his eyes were puffy and red and his bottom lip quivered just a bit.

You held his face in your hands, a simple gesture that meant I see you, I know you. I love you.

“Come here,” you whispered, helping him shed his jacket. You took his hand and led him to the couch.

He sat heavily.

“I’ll be right back with dinner. And a beer?”

He nodded.

“Whiskey?”

He nodded again, confirming his choice of drink.

You plated dinner and poured David’s whiskey and a glass of wine for yourself.

You curled up on the couch beside him while he ate. The show you put on was something mindless and didn’t require much attention- neither of you were watching it, regardless.

For a while- after glasses had been emptied, refilled, then emptied again- you just breathed together.

You didn’t need to fill the silence. It wasn’t empty—it was full of unsaid things. Of grief and guilt and too many hours spent on the job and not home with you.

You stood, gently taking the glass from David’s hand- setting it on the coffee table.

“C’mon. Hot shower make you feel better.”

He arose without protest, letting you lead him to the bedroom.

He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off his socks while watching you scurry around getting him a fresh towel and washcloth. You even went as far as laying out his favorite pair of sweatpants and t-shirt.

He didn’t have a favorite pair of anything until you came around. The t-shirt had become his favorite the first time he saw you wear it. You had made the most delicious breakfast one morning- wearing nothing but his shirt. Then, after breakfast, he bent you over and took you right there on the kitchen counter. It had been his favorite ever since. The sweats were his favorite because you bought them for him- insisting he ditch the jeans and be comfy. He’d never been comfier.

You stood between his legs, trying to coax him into the shower.

He looked up at you with glassy, tired eyes- there was something in them you couldn’t quite read.

His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“Thank you.” He said, voice meek.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow. Full of ache. Full of everything he didn’t have words for.

He kissed you like you were the first clean breath he’d had in days.

He hadn’t meant to ignite anything—just wanted to confirm you're real.

But it lights something anyway.

You loosen the collar of his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons, and he lets you undress him piece by piece. Not hurried. Not lustful. Just needy in a way that isn't about sex. Not yet. It's about skin. Warmth. Proximity. Something to soften the sharp edges still carved into him.

You pulled away slightly; reluctantly. You wanted nothing more than to comfort David, but you loved him too much to take advantage of him in any way.

Your face must have said what you were thinking before your mouth could.

“I want you, baby.” He said, voice still quiet, rough, “Need to know I’m still a man. Still human. Wanna..Make you feel good.” He said, his hands resting on your hips.

“I just want you to be sure. Don’t wanna..you know…hurt you. Want you to be in the right state of mind, to.. consent.” You mumbled, combing your hands through his messy dark strands.

“I appreciate you lookin’ out for me like that, honey, I do.” He said. “It means more than you know. But I’d never regret makin’ love to you…or just do it to make myself feel better..You’re everything to me.”

His words melted your insides. They were earnest and true and made you wanna give him everything he ever wanted. Not just your body, but your heart and soul- all of you.

Your eyes scanned his face as his hands skimmed your body. His fingers tracing your ribs, your hips, the dip of your waist, as if memorizing proof that you were real, that this was real.

“I’m alright, darlin’. I want you, if you’ll have me.” He murmured, voice rough.

Your eyes flickered to his lips and back up to his unyielding baby blues. “Of course I’ll have you. Always will.” The last words came out barely a whisper, but loud enough to be carved into David’s memory.

Always.

Within a moment, his mouth was on yours—hungry, uneven, the taste of desperation more potent than the whiskey he’d had just before.

Your clothes and the remainder of his were shed in frantic, clumsy motions, but not for the sake of lust alone—it was about stripping away the day, the blood and grit of the job until there was nothing left between you but skin. Until he could remember he was flesh and bone, not just the badge, not just the case files but yours. Yours to hold, to care for. To love.

The moment you were bare before him, he slowed. “So beautiful..” He muttered before sealing his mouth to your chest, sucking at your skin until you were putty in his hands. He wanted to taste every part of you, claim every inch, erase the bitter tang of violence with the sweetness of you.

His hands gripped and kneaded the soft flesh of your ass. He pulled you flush against him, his cock rock hard against you.

He then pulled you on into his lap and you began to grind your slick heat along his length, earning a moan from him that went straight to your core.

He held you- not as if you were something fragile-but as if you were something solid and grounding. And to him you were that- an anchor. His anchor.

He coaxed you out of his lap and onto the bed.

You gently laid your head on the pillow, watching David’s every move.

He climbed over you, eyes full of hunger and desire.

When you pulled him down closer to you, he followed like gravity itself bound him to you. He pressed his face to your neck, kissing, breathing, grounding himself in the rhythm of your pulse. Your hands traced the slope of his broad shoulders, the tension in every line of muscle, easing him open with touch alone.

“I’ve got you.” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “You’re here, with me.”

He groaned low in his chest and slid his hands along your body, wanting to memorize every inch. His touch was reverent, then hungry, then reverent again- balancing on a delicate scale.

When he finally pushed into you, he broke. His breath stuttered, his face burying into your neck.

“God—” he rasped, voice cracking, “—you make me feel alive.”

He clung to you, moving with a raw, aching need, every thrust carrying more than desire—passion and warmth. Love.

And you gave him everything: your hands gripping his back, nails in his skin to remind him he was real; your voice whispering his name like a prayer; your body grounding him in the here and now.

He muttered sweet nothings in between moans and curses as he thrust into you, eating up every moan and sigh you were giving him.

You felt the familiar heat curl in your belly, David’s cock hitting inside you just right. He wanted you to come undone under him, to feel you clench and spasm around him; to know he was making you feel good.

Every thrust was a plea, every gasp against your lips a confession he couldn’t voice any other way. He drove into you as deep as he could, angling his hips to hit your g-spot. It was too much- the way he was touching you, kissing you, holding you while the sound of skin on skin rang in your ears. It pushed you over the edge. Your body went taut as waves of pleasure crashed over you. David worked you through your orgasm, eating up every moan and sound like it were mana from above.

His body trembled with the effort of holding himself together, and yet in you, he unraveled—safe to break, safe to want.

Your moans tangled with his, the room filled with the slick sounds of your bodies moving in sync. He moved faster, harder, chasing the edge, but his eyes never left yours.

“Fuck, babygirl..Gonna-mm- gonna cum.” he panted, voice ragged.

“Give it to me David, I wanna feel you.” you whispered, clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

That undid him. With a strangled sound, he buried himself in you, thrusts faltering as release tore through him. His body shook, his face pressed to your neck as he spilled inside you, groaning your name like a prayer.

You held him through it, legs tightening around his waist, arms around his shoulders, keeping him anchored while waves of shuddering breaths left him spent against you. His heart pounded against your chest, heavy and real.

When the aftershocks faded, he stayed inside you, head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat. You felt him steady—stitched together by your hands, your lips, your love. Not perfect, not whole, but human. And that was enough.

David’s pleading blue eyes convinced you to shower with him. But you didn’t really need much convincing to begin with.

The bathroom filled with steam as the water ran hot.

For a moment, David just stood under the stream of water, in hopes it would wash his worries away.

It didn’t.

But it helped. You helped.

You ran the soapy cloth over David’s body with reverence, minding the little cuts and bruises he’d been collecting.

He just stood there, letting you clean him-enjoying your caring, attentive hands.

The simple act had him gazing at you like you were something holy; like you could wash his soul clean too.

You simply smiled under his heavy gaze and reached for the shampoo. David let out a something between a moan and a growl when you dragged your nails across his scalp. You continued to comb your fingers through his wet hair- making him feel good and scrubbing out the stubborn hair product he liked to use.

When you both were clean, he kissed you slow and easy, savoring the sensation of your warm lips and the hot water running down his back.

You were both slick with soap suds and water- the nonslip shower mat your only saving grace. His mouth found your neck again, pressing heavy, wet kisses and small nibbles all the way down to your breasts.

It was slower, sweeter than before. There was no rush, no urgency to reach the finish line. He was taking his time with you as if the water bill wasn’t due next week.

He lifted your leg up over his hip and slid into you in one slow motion, savoring the wet, smooth, heat.

Your moans echoed off the tile walls, the intensity of the sound drove him absolutely wild- in the best way.

He continued to kiss you deeply; all teeth and tongue. When his mouth wasn’t connected to yours, he was leaving little bite marks along your skin, not enough to bruise, but just enough to remind you of the moment in the morning.

David-who was thriving off your pleasure- thrusted into you faster now, driving you towards your second orgasm.

He hiked your leg up higher, singing your praises- how tight and wet you are, how pretty you look taking his thick cock.

“Thats it, sweet girl. Mhmm, takin’ my cock so good.”

And with that, a toe-curling orgasm came over you, sending electricity through your veins. He held you through it, his grip tightening as he approached his own climax.

Your orgasm sent David over the edge, with a few more thrusts he was spilling inside you again with a loud groan. You held him through this one too, gently coaxing him through his high.

Neither of you moved. He continued to hold you close while he gently lifted your leg off his waist.

“God, you’re perfect.” He whispered, stroking your wet hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You mumbled into his moist skin. “So much.”

You embraced each other for a while longer. Water bill be damned.

-

When you and he crawled into bed, David curled toward you like a man seeking shelter from a storm.

You pressed your forehead to his. Let your fingers dance over his ribs, slow and grounding.

His hand slid under your shirt, not for anything more, just to feel skin-to-skin.

And when he finally fell asleep—deep, exhausted, and safe—you stayed awake a little longer.

Watching him.

Protecting him, for once.

You woke to the rustle of sheets and the sharp inhale of breath that wasn’t yours. In the dark, your eyes adjusted to the outline of broad, strong shoulders sitting upright on the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling like he was trying to catch up with the world that had just torn him out of sleep.

“David?” your voice was soft, still husky from sleep.

He didn’t answer at first.

You slid closer, your hand brushing across his back, slow and deliberate, reminding him you were there. “nightmare?”

His jaw flexed. “Yeah.” A single word, gravel-low. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, like he could scrub the images out of his head. “I was sleepin’ so good too.”

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. He leaned back into you, just a fraction, like he couldn’t quite help it, like his body yearned for yours. (It did)

“It’s just us. Just the quiet.” You whispered.

His breath shuddered.

Slowly, you shifted around to face him, climbing into his lap so he couldn’t look away. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs smoothing the furrows between his brows. He finally lifted his eyes to yours

“Sorry to wake you up.”

You kissed his temple, lingering. “It’s alright.”

For a long moment, he just breathed against you, the sharp edges of him softening under your steady touch. His hands—those hands that were always gripping too hard, always fidgeting—slid to your waist and held on, not rough, not desperate, just grounding.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.,” he muttered against your hair, voice quiet but raw.

You pressed your forehead to his, your fingers curling at the nape of his neck.

“You never have to wonder. You’re stuck with me.” You chuckled slightly.

The tension in him broke. He smiled- small, but still there. “No one I’d rather be stuck with, baby.”

Eventually, when the silence settled, you guided him back down against the pillows. He resisted for a moment, restless energy still sparking through him, but your steady presence anchored him. You stayed close, one hand resting over his chest, feeling the uneven thrum of his heartbeat slowly begin to steady beneath your touch.

You didn’t tell him the nightmares would go away, because they might not. Instead, you offered what you could: quiet, warmth, the simple reminder that he wasn’t alone in the dark.

The air between you is quiet, fragile — like something that’s been waiting to happen for a long time. David’s apartment is dim, the lamplight throwing soft amber shadows across the room. You can hear the low hum of the heater and the faint sound of his breathing — steady but a little uneven, like he’s holding back something he’s afraid to break.

He’s standing in front of you, close enough that you can smell the warmth of his cologne and the faint trace of coffee on his breath. His hand lifts slowly, hesitating halfway before he finally brushes his knuckles against your cheek. The touch is so careful it almost breaks you.

His hand cups your jaw, his thumb brushing along your lower lip, and for a moment you swear you can feel every word he doesn’t say.

When he kisses you, it’s slow and uncertain at first, almost shy. His fingers trace your jaw, down to your neck, moving like he’s memorizing you through touch. He exhales against your skin, whispering things so quiet you can barely make them out — your name, the word *beautiful*, and something that sounds like a promise.

He leans back in and kisses you again, slower this time, deeper, his touch growing steadier as the fear starts to fade. The world gets smaller — just his breath, your skin, the warmth between you.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs. His voice is deep, rough around the edges, but so gentle. “I don’t… I don’t ever wanna hurt you. Not even by accident.”

You nod, reaching for his wrist and pressing his hand more firmly to your face. “You won’t.”

Something in him shifts then — the guarded look in his eyes softens, and you see the truth he never says aloud. He’s been waiting for this, but not just the touch — the trust. He wants to deserve this.

When you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours. His eyes are glassy in the soft light. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hold you like this,” he says. “Not just because I want you — but because I trust you.”

The words settle between you like a vow. What follows isn’t hurried or loud; it’s quiet and patient, full of lingering touches and whispered reassurances. He moves as though every breath, every brush of his fingers, is meant to tell you something he’s never been able to say: that you’re safe with him, that he’s here, that he means it.

Every motion he makes is deliberate, asking without words: *Is this okay? Do you feel good?* And every time you lean into him, every time your hands find their way to his chest, he seems to breathe a little easier.

He exhales your name against your lips, a prayer disguised as a sound. You answer with your hands, sliding up his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palms — uneven, alive.

his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a trembling kiss there. He breathed you in like it was the only way to quiet the storm inside him.

Your hands moved up his back, tracing the slope of his shoulders, the tight lines of muscle drawn from years of tension and restraint. Each touch eased him open a little more.

You loosened the collar of his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons as he watched you with wide, dark eyes. He let you undress him piece by piece, not hurried, not lustful — just needy in a way that wasn’t about desire. It was about being seen. Being safe.

He’s shaking a little, though he’s trying to hide it. You can feel the tension in his shoulders when your hands slide up his back. He pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods, breath shaky. “Yeah. I just… haven’t done this in a long time. Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Where it means something.”

You swallow hard. “It does. It means everything.”

For a moment neither of you move. David’s breathing is uneven, warm against your mouth. Your fingers rest against the open edges of his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms, the slight tremor that runs through him every few seconds. 

He’s trying so hard to hold himself together. You tilt your head and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then another. His breath catches. 

Your lips brush over his cheek, slow and unhurried, like you’re learning the shape of him with every small press of your mouth. His stubble grazes your skin, rough but familiar, and he exhales shakily when you kiss just beneath his eye.

 “You’re shaking,” you murmur against his skin. 

“Sorry,” he whispers.

 “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Your fingers slide up into his hair, holding him there while you kiss him again—this time properly. Soft, slow, patient. The kind of kiss that lingers instead of taking. He melts into it. Not all at once. Carefully. Like someone testing whether the ground beneath them is real. 

His hands come to your waist, tentative at first, barely touching, but when you don’t pull away his grip tightens just a little. Like he needs to feel that you’re really there. 

You push his shirt off his shoulders the rest of the way. The fabric slides down his arms and pools at his elbows before falling away completely. Your hands follow the movement, smoothing over the muscles of his shoulders, down his arms, then back up again as if memorizing the warmth of him. 

David watches you the whole time. Not hungry. Just… awed. 

Your chest tightens. 

You lean in again, kissing him slow and sweet. His mouth opens under yours with a soft breath, and the kiss deepens just enough to make warmth bloom low in your stomach, but it never becomes hurried. He’s savoring you. 

Your lips travel again—his jaw, his cheek, the hollow beneath his ear. Each kiss softer than the last. 

David’s head tips back slightly with a shaky exhale. “God…” he murmurs. 

Your hands slide over his chest, palms warm against his skin. You feel the steady thump of his heart under your touch. 

“You’re safe,” you whisper against his throat before pressing another kiss there. “You know that, right?” 

His arms wrap around you suddenly, pulling you close enough that there’s no space left between you. 

“I know,” he says, voice rough. But he still holds you like he’s afraid you might disappear. So you keep kissing him. Slow. Lingering. Your fingers tracing gentle lines across his back while his hands cradle the sides of your face. 

Your hands go to his hair, tugging slightly. You enjoy feeling the way his breath stutters when your nails lightly graze his scalp. 

David makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, something surprised and needy all at once. 

You smile against his mouth. “Still okay?” you whisper.

 “Yeah,” he breathes. “More than okay.” 

You press another kiss to him—then another, and another—until his hands start moving too. They slide slowly along your sides, like he’s reacquainting himself with touch. 

His palms warm and steady now, resting at the curve of your waist. The tenderness of it makes your chest ache in the best way. 

You guide him backward gently until he sits on the edge of the bed. David looks up at you like he can’t quite believe this is real. 

You lean down and kiss him again. Your hands move through his hair, slow and soothing, while his arms wrap around your waist and pull you between his knees. 

He buries his face briefly against your stomach, pressing a warm kiss there through the fabric. The affection of it makes you laugh softly.

 “Hi,” you whisper. 

“Hi,” he murmurs back, voice rough. He tilts his head up again, catching your lips in another kiss—longer this time. 

His hands slide up your back, holding you close while your fingers trace along his shoulders. Everything about the moment feels unhurried. 

Your kisses wander over his face again—his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the bridge of his nose—each one drawing a quiet breath from him. By the time your lips find his again, he’s smiling softly against your mouth. 

David’s hands keep moving slowly along your back, warm and steady now, like touching you is the easiest thing in the world. You stay there between his knees, bodies close, breathing the same quiet air.

 His forehead presses lightly to your stomach again for a second, and you feel the soft brush of his lips through your shirt. Then he looks up at you. There’s something softer in his expression now. The nervousness hasn’t disappeared completely, but it’s been replaced with something deeper—something trusting. 

Your fingers slip into his hair again, guiding him gently upward so you can kiss him. This time the kiss lingers. 

Your mouths move together slowly, learning each other again. David exhales against your lips, his arms sliding tighter around your waist until you can feel the warmth of his chest against you.

 “C’mere,” he murmurs softly. You let him guide you down onto the bed with him. There’s a brief rustle of sheets as he guides you on top of him. His back rests against the headboard and you settle into his lap. He kisses you again. Slow- then deepening gradually as your hand slides over his bare chest. 

Your fingertips trace the muscles there, feeling the way his breath catches when your nails lightly drag across his skin. David shivers under your touch.

 “Sensitive?” you tease gently against his mouth. 

“Just… you,” he murmurs. Your lips drift from his mouth to his jaw, then lower—kissing along the warm line of his throat. Every small press of your lips draws another quiet sound from him, soft and surprised, like he isn’t used to being treated this gently.

 His hand slips under your shirt, warm palm resting against your side. He hesitates for half a second. Then his thumb begins tracing slow circles against your skin. The touch makes you sigh softly into the next kiss you press against his neck. 

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

 You nod, brushing your nose against his. “More than okay.” 

Encouraged, his hands explore a little more—still slow, still careful. They move along your waist, your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. Your bodies fit together easily; Comfortably. Like this closeness is something you’ve both been missing. 

Your kisses return to his mouth, hungrier now. David holds you there against him. You can feel how hard he is even beneath layers of fabric. 

God, you want him. 

His hands roam gently along your back, tracing slow paths that make your skin prickle. 

When his fingers reach the hem of your shirt, he pauses, looking up at you. 

You lift your arms without a word. The small encouragement seems to steady him. Slowly, carefully, he pulls the fabric up and over your head, his knuckles brushing your sides as he does. The shirt falls somewhere beside the bed, forgotten. 

For a moment, neither of you move. David’s eyes linger on you, dark and soft at the same time, like he’s trying to take in every detail. 

Your hands drift to the waist of his jeans, fingers resting there. You don’t pull yet—just hold the fabric lightly, your eyes meeting his. A silent question.

 He nods once, breath a little unsteady. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

You slide the zipper down slowly, easing the denim open before helping him push them off. You gently remove his shirt next.

And then you pause. Not out of hesitation—but to look at him. Really look. The warmth of the room, the softness in his expression, the closeness of your bodies. The vulnerability of the moment hangs gently between you. You have to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of him.

You reach out, brushing your fingertips lightly across his chest. “Thank you for trusting me,” you say softly. 

Something shifts in his face at that. 

David’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin as he leans forward to kiss you again. This one is slower than before—deep and lingering, full of quiet gratitude. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips, “for being someone I can trust.” 

His mouth is back on yours, soft kisses turning into hungry, needy ones. 

You grind against him, seeking out friction you so desperately desire. He groans low in his throat at the sensation. 

His hands go to unhook your bra; he tosses it to the floor. His eyes widen like he’s viewing something holy. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He says, hands skimming up and down your sides. 

“C’mere” he said, sealing his mouth to your breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple. His hand gives attention to the other one. 

You arch into his touch, a moan escaping you. 

Your hands are in his hair, each little tug earning you a hum from David. 

“Please, David.” you whine. “Need you.” 

As if he couldn’t deny such a sweet request. 

He stopped his ministrations and looked up at you, his lips were wet and slightly swollen, his blue eyes were blown wide with want. 

For a moment he just looks at you. Like he’s trying to memorize the sight.

 “Let me make love to you, sweetheart,” he says quietly. 

The words send warmth straight through your chest. You nod quickly. 

There’s a moment of awkward laughter as you hurry to kick off your pants and underwear, the fabric tangling around your ankles before you manage to shove them aside. David watches you with a soft smile that’s equal parts fond and a little breathless.

 Then he lifts up to help with his own clothes. You reach for the waistband of his boxers, fingers brushing his hips as you guide the fabric down. Your hands linger for just a second against his skin, the warmth of him making your breath hitch. 

Soon the last pieces of clothing are gone. And suddenly there’s nothing between you. You pause again. Not shy—just taking him in. He was beautiful. 

The lines of his shoulders, the warmth of his skin, the way his chest rises and falls a little faster now that you’re both without clothes. David notices the way you’re looking at him. 

“You okay?” he asks softly. Instead of answering right away, you reach for him, planting yourself back onto his lap. Your hands slide up his arms, over his shoulders, until your palms rest against his face. 

You lean forward and kiss him again—slow and deep, full of all the trust and warmth that’s built between you tonight. When you pull back, your forehead rests against his. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper. 

You slid your hand between you, wrapping it around his cock, pumping softly, and he hissed through his teeth at the contact.

“You’re sure you’re okay without a condom like we talked about? And you're still on your birth control?” David’s voice is low and careful, his hand resting warm against your  hip.

“Yeah, I am. ” you said softly. “I’m sure. We’re both clean, and I want you. I trust you.”

Something flickers in his expression at that—something deep and a little awed.

He leans up and kisses you again, slow and warm, but you gently pull back before the moment can carry too far.

“Are you sure, David?” you ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looks at you for a moment, really looks—like he’s measuring the weight of what you’re offering him. His thumb brushes softly along your side while he thinks.

Then he nods.

“I’m sure,” he says.

You search his face for another second, making sure.

“You wanna switch positions?”

He paused, thinking about it.

“Yeah. Come lay down, baby. I want you comfortable.” He said, patting the space next to him.

David liked being in control- not in a dominant way, but in a leading way. He has always had a natural way of leading— never in a way that feels heavy. It’s softer than that. Instinctive.

The kind of leading that comes from caring. From watching you closely, learning the little things that make you comfortable, the things that make you smile. The kind that makes you feel looked after without ever feeling small.

And when he settles over you, careful with his weight, you feel it in the way he holds himself there. Nothing rushed, nothing demanding. Just warm and solid.

When you relax beneath him, his shoulders loosen too, like he’d been holding that breath.

“Okay,” you whisper.

David presses a soft kiss to your lips, slower this time, almost grateful. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his nose brushing lightly against your cheek.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs.

Your fingers slide into his hair again, holding him close.

“Thank you for asking.”

He kissed you harder this time, and lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against  your entrance. 

He pushed in slowly—watching your face, making sure you were okay. You were slick and tight, and he had to fight the urge to lose it right then and there. The soft gasp you let out and the image of your eyes rolling back into your head didn't help the matter. 

"Fuck," he breathed as he sank deeper, inch by inch. "You feel amazing.”

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his whole body tense. 

"You okay?" you asked, sliding your hands up his back.

You felt perfect. Tight and warm and your cunt was hugging him perfectly.

 "Yeah." he managed. “I'm great. You good?” 

“I’m fucking great.” you said.

And when he finally started to move -slow, controlled thrusts that made you gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders- he knew he wasn't going to last long. 

He kept his pace measured at first, watching your face, learning what made your breath hitch, what made your fingers tighten against his skin. Every small sound, every shift of your hips made him absolutely crazy. You encouraged him with soft praises, your hands sliding up his back as he hovered close over you.

“David…” you breathed, your voice warm and shaky. “You feel so good.”

The words clearly affect him. His head dips for a second, his forehead brushing yours as he exhales a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. One of his hands tightens gently at your hip, like he’s grounding himself.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod immediately, your fingers threading through his hair.

“So good,” you repeat, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re being so gentle with me.”

That makes his expression soften even more.

His lips find yours again, slower this time, deeper—like your praise gave him permission to relax into the moment. The kiss lingers while his hand moves up your side, warm and steady.

“You okay?” he asks again softly.

You smile against his lips.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, he kisses along your jaw, down the side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. Your hands move over his shoulders and back, holding him close while quiet praises keep slipping from your lips.

“Just like that…” “David…” “You’re making me feel so good…”

The praise sends a flush across his chest and neck. 

When you pull him back down to kiss you, he’s smiling softly now, eyes warm and a little dazed.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs against your neck, lips brushing soft kisses along the hollow beneath your ear. “So perfect for me…” 

You tilt your head back, letting his lips roam, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently. 

“David-!” you gasp, voice shaking. 

“Ive got you, sweet girl. God… you’re so perfect,” he murmurs into your mouth, teeth grazing yours lightly in a teasing way, before pulling back just enough to see your reaction. 

His blue eyes are blown wide, pupils dark with want and awe, reflecting the heat between you. 

He responds to every word, every tiny motion, like your praise is a map for his hands and lips. Slowly, tenderly, deliberately—he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. Even in the heat of it, the intimacy, the closeness, he keeps checking in with soft touches, whispered confirmations. 

“You’re okay?”

 “Feels good?” 

“Do you want more?” 

“Yes… please… don’t stop…” you whisper, arching into him, letting him know he’s exactly where you want him, exactly how you need him. 

The soft sounds of your pleasure, the quiet gasps, and the warmth of his lips on your skin fill the room, making the two of you feel impossibly close—like nothing else exists but this, this slow, tender, aching connection. 

David’s lips press harder against yours.

 Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails grazing lightly over the skin as he slides closer, chest to chest, bodies melting together. The warmth between you builds, hot and aching, making every breath feel too short. 

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw and neck. “I can’t get enough of you…” 

You moan softly, tilting your head back so he can reach more, letting him trail kisses down your collarbone. “You say things like that and I’m not sure I’ll ever let you go.”

David huffs out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh against your skin, the sound warm where his mouth still lingers near your jaw.

“Well,” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to look at you, “that sounds like a pretty good deal for me.”

There’s something softer in his expression when he holds your gaze.

“You might be stuck with me, sweetheart.”

“Actually… I think I’d like that a lot.”

“Yeah?” He questions, nibbling the skin of your neck.

“Yeah- oh-!”

You were cut off by a sharp, deep thrust of his hips. His hands move with purpose now, tracing the curves of your body, memorizing every inch. The heat of his touch makes your skin prickle and your chest tighten, every soft whisper from you sending shivers down his spine. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your lips, eyes dark, heavy with want and adoration. “I love how you feel…” 

You let out a soft gasp, pressing yourself impossibly closer, your hands tangling in his hair. You couldn’t talk, only moan at how deep he was inside you, how good he was filling you up.

He responds, his pace quickening , letting the pressure build, every movement designed to make you shiver and melt. Your breaths come faster now, your chest rising and falling with need, and the sound of your moans fills the room.

 He leans in closer, whispering your name over and over, like a prayer, like a vow, letting the intensity rise. Every word drips with need- rough, possessive, and impossibly intimate, making it impossible to doubt that he’s completely undone by you.

The tension coils tighter, warm and delicious, every caress, every kiss, every whispered word pushing you closer to the edge. 

You arch into him, gasping, trembling, encouraging him with soft praises and breathless moans, telling him exactly what he’s doing to you. 

“David… please… yes…I… I’m so close…” 

He bites his lip softly, and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. 

"Right there?" he asked, his voice rough. 

"Yes! God, yes, right there-" 

He kept going, grinding against your clit with every thrust and he was hitting that spot over and over. You slid your hands down to grip his ass, pulling him deeper.  He has a nice, firm butt. You'd definitely be grabbing it more from now on.

Every thrust had you crying out from pure pleasure.

 "Come on, pretty girl" he growled, his voice wrecked. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes yes yes yes!”

“I want to hear you… come for me, baby… let it happen…”

“Yes! ‘M cumming-!” You moaned as pleasure washes over you. It’s overwhelming—full of warmth, closeness, and pure connection. When your body convulses, shudders under him, he’s right there, murmuring encouragement against your skin. “Yes… that’s it… fuck… just like that… I’ve got you… you’re so good for me… just cum for me, baby… yes…”

He holds you through it, soft kisses trailing down your neck, his voice warm and steady, soothing and praising all at once, letting you ride it out fully, knowing you’re safe and utterly adored in his arms.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, lips brushing along your collarbone. “So soft… so tight… you feel like you were made for me.”

“I am, David! I was made for you.” Your say on the verge of overstimulation.

 His thrusts grew frantic as his own orgasm approached. 

He leans closer, hot breath brushing your ear, whispering, “You feel so tight… so soft… and I can’t stop thinking about filling you, making you mine.”

“I’m yours, David… take me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “I want all of you… make me yours.”

His voice drops lower, rough and urgent. “I’m gonna fill you… all of you… can you feel me, baby? Feel how much I want you?”

You nod feverishly.

When you moan, it sends a shiver straight through him.

“I’m yours…” you whisper, trembling.

And that send him over the edge.

“Fuck!… I’m coming… I’m coming for you.” He moaned. And it was she hottest sound ever. He buried himself as deep as he could go, hips stuttering forward in short, uncontrolled thrusts as he came, a groan tearing from his throat.

He collapses against you, forehead pressed to yours, lips ghosting over your skin in soft, trembling kisses as he rides out the wave, holding you close like he never wants to let you go.

Afterward, he doesn’t move right away. His arm stays around you, thumb tracing slow, absent circles on your skin. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, steady now, calm.

David’s chest rises and falls a little faster, a soft, almost vulnerable smile tugging at his lips. He turns his hand over to lace fingers with yours, holding it gently but firmly, like he’s memorizing the weight of you in his palm.

“I… I just…” he murmurs, voice low and thick with something raw, “I didn’t think someone could want all of me… and still make me feel safe.”

You brush your thumb along the back of his hand, meeting his gaze. “You deserve it,” you repeat softly, voice warm and steady. “Every part of you. The strong, the messy, the quiet… I see all of it, David.”

His eyes soften, shimmering with something unspoken, and he leans down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’re the best.”

You smile against him, heart swelling, and let your fingers curl a little tighter around his.

For a long moment, you just stay there—hands intertwined, foreheads touching, letting the weight of that love settle between you, sweet and unshakable.

The morning creeps in quietly, all honey light and slow warmth. The kind of stillness that only exists right before the world fully wakes. You feel it first — the faint shift of breath behind you, the weight of an arm that tightens instinctively around your waist.

When you turn to face him, he’s already awake, eyes heavy with sleep and something softer. His hair’s a tousled mess, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks.

“Morning.”

You smile. “Morning.”

He studies you quietly — the way the light touches your skin, the way your expression softens when you look at him. There’s no mask on his face now, no detective’s armor, just David — unguarded and almost shy.

After a long moment, he says, barely above a whisper, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

You don’t say anything at first— you just smile quietly, warmth blooming in your chest.

“I feel pretty lucky too.” You say.

He smiles then — small, real, and so full of joy.

He watches you a second longer, eyes tracing your face like he’s memorizing it, then he gives you a peck on the lips.

“I should make coffee before I talk myself outta getting up.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you as he pushes the blanket back and sits up. The morning light hits his shoulders, tracing the shape of his back, the muscle shifting beneath his skin as he stretches. For a moment, you just watch him — the easy strength in his movements, the quiet domesticity of it. You really were lucky.

He disappears into the kitchen, and the soft sounds of clinking mugs and running water drift through the stillness. When you join him, he’s leaning against the counter, two mugs waiting.

He hands you a cup, fingers brushing yours. “Didn’t mess up your preferred ratio of creamer to coffee this time,” he says, half a smile tugging at his mouth.

“You say that every time,” you reply, taking a sip to hide your smile.

“Yeah, but today I mean it.”

You look at him over the rim of your mug, and there’s something different in the way he looks back — steadier, grounded.

He reaches out, tracing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. “I don’t take this for granted,” he says quietly. “Having this.”

“I don’t either. It’s special- what we have.”

He sets his coffee down and pulls you into a hug. He squeezes tight. You nuzzle your face into his bare chest, enjoying the domestic intimacy.

The rest of the morning unfolds slowly — easy conversation, shared glances, the smell of coffee lingering in the air. No rush. No distance. Just the quiet understanding that something fragile has turned into something lasting.

-Tags: loki only tags: @sataninsatin @go-commander-kim @severuined @romancries @eclecticfashionbookszipper @fagen @kissyabish @sizzlingcloudmentality

“I never saw the sun shinin' so bright, never saw things goin' so right

Noticing the days hurrying by, when you're in love, my how they fly by

Blue days, all of them gone/ Nothin' but blue skies from now on”

You cracked the kitchen window, letting the soft summer breeze kiss your skin. The smell of honeysuckle invaded your home like a welcomed friend.

The foam kitchen mat had indentions from where you stood so often gazing out the window at your absolute treasure of a husband. One of your favorite things was watching Bucky feed the goats. He talked to them in plain conversation as if they’d respond in English at any given moment. You giggled as you heard him scold one for “not sharing the hay.”

Bucky had grown fond of livestock during his time in Wakanda, so when he asked you move to a little cottage in the country with a couple of goats and a small garden, you couldn’t say no. You couldn’t ever really tell him no; you wouldn’t. As much as he was putty in your hands, you were equally malleable in his.

You grabbed the cream colored bar soap that perched itself on the sink and lathered it between your hands, getting a good amount of suds to scrub the dirt from under your fingernails. You paid particularly close attention to the texture, the soap melted nicely and wasn’t grainy or crumbly.

The soft scent of lavender hit your nose- it was pleasant this time. The essential oils mixed together nicely. This batch of goat’s milk soap turned out better than the last few sets.

Bucky was irrationally upset that he didn’t get the soap to be perfect the first time around. He was used to being a jack of all trades, so when he wasn’t good at something on the first try, his ego took a hit and he was so whiny about it. He needed to lay his head on your lap and pout for at least 15 minutes. So- with lots of patience and encouragement (and a bit of teasing about the male ego) he had gotten the hang of it.

You could see it now: The Barnes’ Soap Company. Soaps handmade by a 100+ year old former assassin, half term congressman, ex-avenger and World War two veteran. AND his wife. Because let’s face it, Bucky includes you in all his shenanigans- whether you’re willing to be part of them or not.

You did love it though, especially nowadays when his shenanigans didn’t include charity galas, team meetings, or reading insufferably long congressional documents. But rather milking his goats- yes his goats-,making soaps, gardening, and putting funny hats on Alpine and snapping her photo.

You swore that cat was more like a dog, she followed Bucky around everywhere, even to the goats pen- which she wasn’t particularly fond of. Anywhere he went, she was right between his legs. It was funny how someone as skilled as Bucky would trip over a little white ball of fur. “She’s just so fast” he says.

The “small garden” you and Bucky had agreed on, had turned into what you referred to as the jungle. This year, the little garden bed was completely overtaken with cucumber plants. Those damn things choked out your zucchini and marigolds. If you ventured past the leafy vines, you’d find some corn, potatoes, and tomatoes. Those were all that was safe from the cucumber-apocalypse. If you ventured beyond that, you might even find a fruit tree or two.

Bucky insisted on planting 3-4 seeds in each hole instead of the recommended 1-2 because he “really really” wanted them to grow. And you just couldnt say no to those baby blue eyes and that dorky smile.

Now you were overrun with cucumbers.

All your neighbors and friends had cucumbers and pickles. You were pretty sure they were sick of cucumbers and pickles because you were getting sick of cucumbers and pickles. Luckily, the goats would eat anything, so their meals consisted of hay and overripe garden vegetables.

After drooling over your husband for too long- let’s be real, theres no such thing as drooling over Bucky Barnes for too long, you realized you needed to start on dinner.

Steve and Sam were coming over for y’all’s weekly get together and Bucky asked you to “pretty please with sugar on top make that one pasta dish.”

As you were readying the ingredients, you heard the side door fling open followed by a “MRRP!” and “babe!!!”

“In the kitchen!” You called out.

Four soft paws and two combat boot laden feet padded into the kitchen.

Alpine beat Bucky to the kitchen by 3 whole seconds, she immediately wove herself between your legs, purring and rubbing her face on your calf.

Bucky came hurrying in all excited, fist closed around something. He stood directly beside you, a huge grin on his face.

“Guess what’s in my hand.” He prompted.

You turned away from the stove to face him, eyebrow quirked, wondering what tiny live animal he was probably concealing.

“What?” You asked, suspiciously.

He didn’t reply, increasing your suspicions.

“James Buchanan Barnes if you brought another frog into my kitchen I’ll-“

He uncurled his fingers to reveal the smallest, most pitiful looking lemon you had ever seen.

“Looks like we can make lemonade tonight!” He joked.

You immediately started cackling, laughing so hard you doubled over.

God how Bucky loved your laugh. He’d do anything to hear it, including boasting about the first lemon from the tree in the backyard.

He clutched his side in laughter, eyes watering.

You loved the sound of him happy. He deserved it- being happy, being at peace. No more fighting, no more missions. Just peace. Just home; just you.

He sat the lemon down and went to wash his hands, he knew better than to touch his lady with dirt and hay on him. Plus he wanted to help with dinner.

As soon as his hands were towel dried, they immediately wrapped around you from behind. His chin came to rest on your head.

He hummed in contentment- Another happy sound you adored. Although, you had to act like his humming didn’t make you melt inside. If anyone deserved to be content- it was Bucky.

“You gonna turn around and give me a kiss, sweetheart, or do I gotta beg for it?” He quipped, already knowing he could have all the kisses he ever wanted.

You turned and looped your arms around his neck. “You know you never have to beg.” You mumbled as his lips met yours.

The kiss was tender and sweet, full of love- like it always was. No matter if the kiss was soft, or needy, or desperate, or more lascivious, it was always filled with love.

“Blue skies smilin' at me

Nothin' but blue skies do I see

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothin' but blue skies from now on”

Over dinner you, Bucky, Sam, and Steve shared a good meal and lots of laughs. It was good for the soul and it did Bucky good to have his support systems all in once place. Alpine enjoyed all the extra loving she got. And, of course, Bucky sent both friends home with cucumbers and goats milk soap.

You stood on the porch waving bye to Steve and Sam as they pulled out of the driveway. When they were out of sight, you went to sit on Bucky’s lap in the rocking chair.

You did indeed have your own rocking chair, but why would you sit in a chair when you had a perfectly good lap to sit in instead?

You plopped yourself down on your husband, sitting sideways so you could put your head on his shoulder, legs draped over the arm of the chair.

“You comfy?” He asked you, smirking.

“Very.” You replied, enjoying the warmth of his skin radiating through the soft cotton of his blue shirt. The faint scent of his cologne that clung to the fibers smelled amazing, you told him that one was your favorite, so it was basically the only one he wore.

He chuckled in response. In truth, he loved that you curled up on his lap. Just like Alpine

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the chirp of the crickets, the buzzing cicadas, and the songs of the evening birds.

The slow rhythm of Bucky’s rocking and the gentle way his fingers traced your skin was nearly enough to put you to sleep. You felt relaxed; peaceful.

You had nearly drifted off when the cadence Bucky was keeping with the rocking chair, stopped.

You raised your head up to look at him, you were about to say something witty and tease him about interrupting your almost nap, but you bit your tongue when you saw the look in his eyes.

By now, you could tell his looks apart- perks of being his life partner. This was the one he had when he wanted to say something big and emotional.

Before you could inquire, he began to speak.

“Thank you.” He simply said, his voice soft and low.

“For what, baby?” You questioned.

“For being my peace.” He replied, his blue eyes still peering into yours.

And with that, he broke you- nearly completely in half.

Bucky did, in fact, have a way with words. He was a poet of sorts; when he really put his mind to it. He made you cry happy tears with his words many times. Like in his wedding vows to you and another time with sweet messages written in anniversary cards. Sometimes what gets you is just the way he is- how proud you are of him and how far he had come.

You knew he longed for peace; that it was his priority. He had fought a multitude of battles- both physical and emotional- to get to a place of comfort. For you to be that to him- It hit you like a freight train.

You stayed silent for a long moment, your brain working hard to come up with a response. But how could you respond to that? The depth of your connection with him ran deep into your bones- how could you put that into words?

“You are my peace, Bucky.” You repeated the words back to him, your finger tapping on his chest. “You’re my everything.”

He smiled. A real, genuine, toothy smile.

“You’re my everything.” He repeated.

Yes, he reverberated your words, but he meant it. You could tell by the way he kissed you. Intense. All-encompassing. Warm.

It was all you ever wanted; He was all you ever wanted.

“Blue days

All of them gone

Nothing but blue skies

From now on.”

Tags: (tag list of open, send me an ask if you want to be tagged, removed or only tagged for certain characters.) @chromecutie tie @xenomorphique @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine-blog @mooleche @rovvboat @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife @black-but-mildly-sunny @master-sass-blast @justjakescharacters

Images from Pinterest/ google. made with Canva

Darling, don't say a word I've already heard/ What your body is saying to mine.

You're tired of fast moves/ You got a slow groove on your mind

You want a man with a slow hand/ You want a lover with an easy touch.

You want somebody who will spend some time, not come and go in a hearted rush.

Baby believe me I understand/ You want a man with a slow hand

-

The sight right before Piotr’s eyes made him want to cum right then.

You, grinding down on his mouth while his tongue worked you, face contorted in pleasure, hands gripping the headboard so hard it might break.

But he held back. He wanted, no, needed to be inside you when he finished. Plus, he wasn’t done with you yet, he wanted you to cum on his dick too, not just on his mouth.

It all started with you in his shirt, sitting in the soft glow of the string lights you had hung up in the reading nook. The way you were sitting, those pretty legs that led to Heaven, poised just right- without you even trying, sent blood rushing to his cock. You looked so damn good in his shirt. Maybe it was because he was head over heels in love with you, it definitely was, but he couldn’t help himself. Piotr came over to where you were perched in your comfy chair and started at your ankle, slowly and surely kissing his way up your leg. He asked you about your day in between kisses like he wasn’t killing you slowly.

“Good” was the only word you could mutter in response. Your day was about to get exponentially better.

Your hands found his dark locs, fingers tugging lightly, earning a soft hum from your husband.

He gazed up at you through thick lashes, his pupils wide with want. You nodded your head slightly, giving him the go ahead he was searching for

Piotr nudged your legs apart gently, his hot breath on your thigh sent a shiver down your spine.

He chuckled as he delicately ran a finger over your clothed pussy.

“Already so wet.” He said, teasing you for the whine that left your lips when he barely touched you.

-

Your body started to squirm and shake- a telltale sign to Piotr that you were close.

His grip on you tightened as he continued circling your clit with his tongue. The moans and whimpers that left your mouth were practically pornographic, Piotr was eating them up regardless, as his own hums and moans went straight to your core. Your hips twitched again and he pulled you as close as he physically could, wanting to drown himself in your heat. His tongue went to your entrance, dipping in and out of you, running up and down your folds in a delicious sequence. His nose brushed your swollen clit as he continued to eat you like a man starved.

That familiar heat began to build up in your core. Needing a release, you ground down on Colossus harder and he met you with his tongue flicking faster, harder and right where you needed it most.

You came apart on Piotr’s face, his name spilling from your lips. His tongue worked you through your bliss while his hands rubbed your thighs.

Colossus pulled you down onto his chest, running his fingers up and down your spine for a few moments while you recovered from your orgasm.

Once you had caught your breath, Piotr laid you gently on the pillow beside him, climbing over top of you. He had you pinned under his massive frame. You felt so small under him, yet so safe. Protected. You ran your fingers down his chest, his glistening muscles taut under your touch. He touched you like you were delicate, placing gentle kisses along your jaw. Your neck, collarbone, and finally he took your nipple in his mouth. His calloused hand came to cup the other breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple.

“Baby, please. Need you.” You whined.

He released your breast with a pop!

“Need me where, darling? Tell me.”

“Inside me.” You all but begged.

“I cannot say no to that.” He said as he lined himself up with your entrance, groaning as he felt the wetness- the mix of your arousal and his saliva.

Piotr pushed into you with one slow movement, making sure you felt every thick, veiny inch of him.

“Fuck.” He murmured, his mouth falling open as he bottomed out.

Colossus wasn’t one to use foul language, especially when he was teaching or training students; but in the bedroom he was a different man. You loved hearing his moans and sounds especially with his accent.

You let out a sound that was something between a moan and a sob. Colossus was well-endowed and he knew that. He loved how tight your cunt was squeezing him

He picked up his pace, pumping into you with a solid rhythm.

Every thrust had you seeing stars, his dick hitting all the right places inside you.

“So wet for me, милый. So tight.” {darling}

His eyes were locked onto you; your face. He was enjoying watching every tremble and sensation that went through your body.

“You are taking me so well. You wanna cum on my cock, hm?”

“Yes! Please.” You begged between ragged breaths.

Colossus took that as a challenge and put your legs over shoulders, driving his cock deeper into you.

You cried out in pleasure as he thrust into you at this new, deeper angle.

Your hips convulsed as your pleasure was driven higher and higher.

The wooden headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust, chipping away the drywall a little more each time- thank God you and Piotr had your own house.

Pete’s breath grew more ragged.

“C’mon sweetheart-“ he encouraged you. His voice deep and raspy. “I want to feel you. Watch you come undone.”

It was almost too much- the way he filled you up, how his cock was hitting the right places. the guttural moans coming from his mouth, knowing that you were the one making him feel this damn good.

Your legs tightened and your toes curled, the dam inside you was going to break open any moment

Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hung open as electricity zipped through your body, the coil in your center tightening.

Colossus knew what that meant- he quickened his pace, losing some control as he worked towards his own orgasm.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me.” Piotr so gently demanded, wanting to desperately to watch you cum. He thrived off of your pleasure.

And that was all it took.

Your body stilled as your orgasm ripped through you with white hot heat. His name the only thing you could say as waves of pleasure radiated through you

“I know, baby. I know.” Pete cooed, proud he could make you cum so hard. “There we go, that’s my girl.” He praised, as he worked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he approached his own climax.

He lowered your legs back down, hooking them around his hips and leaned in close to you. He pressed his forehead to yours, his skin slick with sweat. He was close.

The way your pussy clenched him, combined with the way you moaned his name was enough to send Colossus over the edge.

Piotr groaned loud, his hips slammed deep one final time as he spilled his seed into you, body shuddering with the release.

Neither of you dared to move, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

When he pulled back to look at you, his lips curved into a dazed smile.

“You are incredible. Beautiful as the dawn, gentle like the spring rain.” He said, peppering kisses all over your face and neck.

Only your Peter could be such a gentleman. Whispering sweet, poetic things to you while his dick was still inside you.

He pulled out and grabbed the tissues off the nightstand to clean you up.

When he was done, he laid beside you on the bed and pulled you close.

You laid your head on his chest, his hand traced patterns on your back as the two of you enjoyed the post-sex haze.

-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Colossus likes to cuddle and kiss your forehead, he likes to rub your back and tell you how good the sex was

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Colossus takes great pride in taking care of his body, exercising and eating healthy and all that. I think he’s particularly proud of his arms and biceps, he likes when you dote on him and his strength. His favorite body part of yours is your pretty face of course but there’s something about your ass that makes him just drool. He loves grabbing it any chance he can- during sex or just in passing or anytime really.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he likes to cum inside and also on your ass or tits depending on the position yall are in. He always cleans you up with a warm cloth or something or sometimes you two shower together.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he secretly loves the thought of getting caught by a fellow teacher or a student or someone at the x mansion, not that he wants to get caught and have you two exposed and etc. but the thrill of it all you know? Even tho the teachers quarters are private and the students are under curfew, the thought is still in the back of his mind.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I do think he has experience, he’s quick to learn what you like and what makes you come, he’s eager to please

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I think he likes doggy cause as I said, he’s an ass man, but he also likes to see your face, see what he’s doing to you, likes to watch you come undone, so he likes missionary too.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Hmmm I do think he’s more serious in the moment but I do think he has his moments of being silly cause stuff happens during sex lol. I think this dork is totally giggling at a queef or an accidental fart.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think he keeps it neatly groomed, not a full bush but not bare.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think he’s a romantic at heart, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, taking care of you, telling you how good it is and how beautiful you are. But I think there’s also times he just wants to fuck, have raw, sweaty, messy sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When you both have been busy and haven’t had a lot of time together he’ll rub one out in the shower while thinking of you. He likes the idea of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of him, but he prefers to be inside you,

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I don’t believe he’s super kinky. He likes it when you tell him what to do and tell him how good he’s doing. And like I mentioned for Dirty Secret I think the thought of getting caught turns him on more than he’d like to admit. Maybe some rp where you’re the teacher.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

With him being a big guy he likes the bed so that it can support his weight, plus he wants you both to be comfortable. The x jet is definitely an option too. Also the gym. And when the students aren’t around, the balcony of his room

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you work out is a big one for him, you breathing hard and a little sweaty, it really gets him. He also likes it when you tease him. He likes watching you do Pilates/ yoga. I think it turns him on when you have to use your stern voice with the students. Anything you do really, it easily turns him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you, nothing too dangerous. No choking or knife play or anything like that

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a giver, he loves to taste you and watch you come undone on his mouth. He enjoys going slow and pleasuring you. He also loves watching your pretty mouth wrap around his cock, and when you make eye contact while sucking him? Oh he’s done for.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Colossus is usually slow and sensual, liking to feel every inch of you, he’s obsessed with you after all so he loves taking his time. But there are times when you’re both craving that fast rough sex. And it’s delicious.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Piotr prefers to take his time and enjoy the experience so quickies only happen when you two are both busy and don’t have a lot of time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He wouldn’t experiment if you wanted to, but he’s the kind of man who lives by the motto “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” He knows what he likes and what you like.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has LOTS of stamina, he loves to give you multiple orgasms.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Piotr is a simple man so I don’t think he would have any toys. He prefers to make you come with his hands, mouth, or cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You are the teaser in the relationship, and he loves it, but sometimes he works up the nerve to tease you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He tends to be quiet, not wanting to alert anyone else in the mansion to your activities, but after some coaxing from you, he’s a little more vocal. He more or less grunts and growls and etc.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Piotr being the gentleman he is, he waits a while to have sex in the relationship, but when he’s comfortable oh man it’s on like donkey kong

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Fandom knows colossus is well endowed. We just be knowing. He’s built like a Greek god, chiseled muscles, sharp jaw line, just.. damn..what a man yall.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a pretty high sex drive, I don’t think y’all bang every day, but definitely multiple times/ week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bucky liked the future…mostly. Technological and medical advancements never ceased to blow his mind, the food was much better, and society had come a long way from the days of open racism and sexism. But meeting you was definitely one of his favorite things about living 70+ years in the future. There were, of course, a lot of things he missed dearly. When Bucky found out that the Dodgers had moved out of Brooklyn and that Ebbets field had been demolished and replaced with apartments, he was thrown through a loop. He pretended not to let it bother him as much as it did. But you could see the disappointment in his eyes.

You were already hatching a master plan; Operation Cheer Up Bucky. Luckily, Brooklyn had their own minor league baseball team. The Cyclones. Oddly enough, the mascot was a seagull named Sandy.

Go figure.

You made plans to head to Maimonides field with two of his other favorite people. AJ and Cass Wilson.

You never expected a baseball game to be romantic. Hot dogs. Loud crowds. A guy in a giant seagull costume doing the cha-cha. But then again, you never expected James Buchanan Barnes — your boyfriend — to be such a softie, either.

The stadium is alive with energy — bright lights, the scent of popcorn and sunscreen, and vendors shouting things like “COLD DRINKS, GET YA COLD DRINKS HERE!” in a stereotypical New Yorker accent.

You’re all in a row of seats behind third base- good seats too. You decided to splurge on your boys; they deserved a little spoiling.

You agreed to hold down y’all’s seats down while Bucky took the boys to the merch stand and concessions.

It turns out, you should not have let Bucky go alone with them, you looked behind you to see the three of them- huge beaming smiles and arms loaded with stuff. Bucky was carrying so much shit he could barely see over the pile in his arms.

The sight made your heart clench.

It’s a wonder that Bucky didn’t drop or spill anything, but with over 70 years of combat experience and training, carrying drinks, snacks, and merch was- apparently- an easy task for him. He had everything balanced with super-soldier precision.

You’d definitely tease him later about his leaning tower of snacks,

Bucky had bought AJ and Cass anything their little hearts desired. They had foam fingers, t-shirts, souvenir cups, lanyards, and what looked like every single snack the concessions stand had available. When they finally got seated, AJ and Cass immediately had to show you what they picked out for you from the merch stand. It was a large button pin that said, “I went to a Cyclones game and all I got was this lousy pin.”

You laughed. “I love it, thank you for picking it out for me.” you said and gave them each a quick hug.

Bucky hands out all the food, remembering what each of you ordered like it’s second nature, like taking care of you three is something he was made for.

Cass almost immediately devours all of his corndog and slurps down a bright red cherry slushie. AJ was licking on a lollipop that was almost as big as his head.

You leaned over to Bucky, who was already devouring his hot dog, whispering so Cass and AJ wouldn’t hear. “You’re spoiling them, you know.”

“I spoil you too and I don’t hear you complaining.” His reply muffled by the food.

Your mouth hung open in fake shock.

The audacity.

He smirked at your expression. Got ya.

“I was not complaining.” You protested. “I was just saying.”

“mmhhhmm” Bucky hummed sarcastically.

“Did you get your senior citizen discount on all this?” you quipped, unable to hide the laugh that escaped.

Bucky shot you the look- trying to convince you he was unamused at your playful jab, but failing when he giggled.

He fucking giggled- warmth bloomed throughout your chest.

You turned your attention back to the boys. The pair looked particularly adorable in their matching Cyclones hats. AJ was already wearing his backwards like he’s in charge of the team meanwhile, Cass was fully focused on the game.

 “Uncle Bucky,” he says between the last bites of his corndog, “who did you root for back in the day?”

Bucky chuckles. “Dodgers. Ebbets Field. Pre-move.”

AJ tilts his head. “You’re really old.”

Bucky fake gasps and clutches his heart. “Rude.”

You cover your laugh with a sip of soda.

 As the game plays out, Bucky leans over to explain the rules to the boys — both hanging on every word like he’s the coolest guy in the world (which, to be fair, he kind of is). Bucky’s arm stays around your shoulders, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your sleeve. Every once in a while, he leans in to tell stories about Ebbets Field, about pre-serum Steve sneaking through fences, about nickel popcorn. The boys listen with wide eyes, completely enchanted.

“You were really there?” AJ whispers, awestruck.

“Sure was,” Bucky says softly.


Cass nudges you. “That means you’re dating, like… living history.”


You laugh. “Don’t let it go to his head.”


Bucky kisses your temple, smug. “Too late.”

.

During one of the inning changeovers, the mascot- Sandy-, gathered some of the kids out of the stands for the “dizzy bat race.” The kids would put their forehead to the flat end of a baseball bat while the other end of the bat was on the ground. They would then spin around the bat ten times to make themselves dizzy, then drop the bat and run to the other end of the infield.

It was fucking hilarious to watch AJ, Cass, and the rest of the kids stumble and try to finish in first place.  

You were yelling and hollering in support of your boys. They didn’t some in first or second, or even third- bless their hearts, but they had fun, so you counted that as a win. Bucky catches the whole thing on his phone. “This is great,” he mutters, sending it to Sam and Sarah.

You lean against his shoulder.

“They’re having a blast.”

“So am I,” he says, his arm that’s around you pulling you closer for a kiss to your temple.

.

It’s now the final inning, Cass and AJ are on the edge of their seats, completely enthralled.

The opposing team calls a time out.

The stadium decides that now is the perfect time for the kiss cam.

You assume that there are plenty of other couples who will be shown on the camera and that they won’t pan your way.

Wrong.

As soon as the large screen switches to the crowd lens, Cass and AJ immediately start yelling and waving their arms, even getting up on their seats to grab the cameraman’s attention. “OVER HERE!!! OVER HERE!!!” they yelled as loud as they could.

And of course, the camera zooms in on you and Bucky.

Before you could react, Bucky grabs your face in both his hands, and presses his mouth to yours in a big, sloppy kiss. Not the careful kind, not the quick polite kind, but a big, messy, who-cares-who’s-watching kind of kiss. It was uncoordinated and perfect: a clash of teeth, a laugh between lips, his hand on your cheek, your hand fisting the back of his ballcap to keep him there just a second longer. He tasted like salty popcorn and mustard from his hotdogs.

People around you cheer at the public display of affection. The boys let out an “oooooooh!!!”

When you and Bucky came up for air, he was beaming from ear to ear. The way he was looking at you made you not mind being the center of attention. He pressed a quick second kiss to your nose for good measure.

The camera moved on to other couples who gave their respective partners a small peck on the lips. But not your Bucky. He was all in. He basically ate your face in front of hundreds of people. You loved it.

You rested your head on his shoulder as he put his arm back around you.

 Finally, the time out ended and peoples’ attention returned to the game, but Bucky’s attention was still on you.

“You alright, Babygirl? I know how you feel about crowds.”

“Yeah.” You replied, flashing him your pearly whites. “I’m great. You?”

“Yeah, I’m good. As long as I got you.”

.

After the Cyclones win (and the boys loudly chant “CY-CLONES! CY-CLONES!” down the stadium steps), you all walk to Coney Island, just a short stroll away. The boardwalk is glowing in the early evening light. Music, the ocean breeze, and the scent of fried dough hangs in the air.

 “Okay,” Bucky says, turning to the boys, “one ride, one snack, and no throwing up. Deal?”

“Deal!” They shout in unison — which means you’re probably getting two snacks and at least one near-vomit moment. AJ immediately makes a beeline for a carnival game. You and Cass are right behind him. Bucky follows too, hands in his pockets, pretending not to be invested… until AJ fails three times in a row and looks up with those puppy eyes. Bucky sighs. “Step aside, rookie.” Three rings later, he’s handing AJ a giant stuffed crab.

 “Do not tell Sam I taught them to gamble,” he whispers to you.

You bust out laughing. “your secret ‘s safe with me.” You replied, winking at him.

His heart fluttered.

You walked past a few more carnival games and Bucky froze when he saw it.

A giant stuffed version of your favorite flower.

“Gotta win my best girl somethin’. Be right back!”he said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and sauntered over to the game with a cocky amount of confidence. He was completely shameless.

It was one of those games where you throw a ball to knock down bottles or something-or-other. Of course, it was rigged- you didn’t know exactly how- but that didn’t matter because Bucky was going to win you that damn flower.

Bucky, forgetting his strength, threw the ball so fast and hard that it nearly broke the glass bottles and cheap plastic board behind them.

You stood there shocked- worried that Bucky was about to get himself kicked out of the theme park. AJ and Cass, however, thought it was awesome. They cheered and clapped, only egging Bucky on.

The attendant swallowed thickly. “Uh- you can pick any prize.” He muttered in disbelief.

Bucky picked the stuffed plush, proudly presenting it to you.

“Thank you. I love it.” You said, tucking it under your arm. “I love you.”

“I love you too, babydoll.” Bucky replies, lacing your fingers with his once more.

When the Wonder Wheel comes into view, AJ tugs your hand. “Can we go on it? Please?”

“Race you!” Cass shouts suddenly, and the boys take off.
You gasp. “Wait—!”
Bucky just chuckles, gripping your hand tighter and pulling you along. “Better keep up, hon.” By the time you get there, the boys are breathless and grinning.


Inside the Ferris wheel car, AJ and Cass press their faces to the glass, pointing out rooftops and the ocean. “I used to come here with Steve sometimes,” Bucky says quietly. “We’d ride this once a summer. Talk about the future. Girls. Dumb stuff.”


You hummed in response, gripping his hand tighter to say, I’m here. Love you.

.

The day ends with cotton candy, sticky fingers, and everyone walking barefoot on the sand. AJ is holding the stuffed crab like it’s a trophy. Cass- who was in the preteen stage of being too cool for stuffed animals- is tired but still buzzing from the sugar. You and Bucky walk behind them, your hand in his.

“They really look up to you,” you say.

He shrugs. “They’re good kids. Brave. Funny. Smarter than I was at their age.”

You nudge him playfully. “And now you’re the cool uncle.”

“I am the cool uncle,” he agrees, smirking. “Don’t tell Sam.”

As the sun sets over the boardwalk, Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “Thanks for doing this.” He murmurs.

 “Let’s make it a tradition.” You say.  From up ahead, AJ calls, “Next time, can we all get matching jerseys?!”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at you.

“You heard the kid.” You laugh.

“Hey! You know I can’t tell them no.”

“I know.” You paused. “Thank you for spoiling us.”

“Yeah, well, it’s what I’m here for.” He said, trying to brush it off.

“I mean it, Bucky. Seriously, thank you.” You gave him a small peck on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

He blushed, smiling softly. Almost shy.

That smile was everything.

He didn’t have the words to convey how thankful he was; that you cared enough to do this for him- even if he did spend way too much money on snacks and baseball merchandise. He would tell you that it was worth every cent.

Bucky appreciated having the option- the choice- to splurge on his loved ones. Every dollar he spent was worth it if it meant he got to see you and those kids smile.

A/N #2- Brooklyn’s minor league team really is called the cyclones and their mascot really is a seagull- I did not make this up for the fic lol. Also- I don’t know if Coney Island really is a short walk away from the stadium- probably not but for the sake of the fic it is