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smallmarvel · 10 months

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If Given the Chance…

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader | SteveRogers x Female!Reader (ugh I don’t know it’s messy)

summary: After an accident on a mission, Bucky and Steve find themselves in the body of the other and both soon begin to act like it too. But while Bucky tries to fix the problem, Steve takes his opportunity to taste his deepest desires, falling into a role he’d never thought he’d get to play: your boyfriend.

a/n: remember this ask? yeah... it took a completely different turn

word count: 3.4k

warnings: a confused and hopeless Stevie, pining, agony, angst, betrayal, fluff, a little heated, this borders dub-con but then again not really, still - !MINORS DNI!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

(please excuse my horrid Photoshop skills, but no GIF combination could match my vision...)

Change. What was it really? Bucky never thought people truly changed. That deep in their hearts they’d always be the same. And yet, he felt as though he had been part of three different personas so far. He’d always wondered what it must be like to just switch bodies with someone. To represent something different - a contrast to what the body was used to.

He didn’t need to wonder anymore. Because he’d experienced it. The person he had been before Hydra was not the same as the winter soldier. And neither was the person he was today - different from both of his prior states. And even though he had lived through it, change, he was here, wondering what it must be like.

He’d read a poem once. A sad, hopeless one. But at the end, it said to read it again - from the bottom up, and its meaning shifted entirely. Transformed from a depressing mood into an optimistic one. Changed, just like that.

So, Bucky wasn’t quite sure whether he had experienced that kind of change before. He’d changed looks, and people told him his heart had not shifted one bit. He’d changed occupations, and he’d not felt as though his values had stayed the same. He had contradicted everything he’d ever imagined change to be. Even though he never really knew what it was.

But now? Now he had proper change. A good one? He wasn’t sure. Not terrible, that was for certain. But definitely one he needed to reverse.

Steve’s eyes stared back at him through the shiny surface of the window. Confusion etched in his brow he’d never seen on his best friend before. The blonde hair disheveled, eyes more exhausted-looking than they usually did, he pushed a deep breath out of his lunges.

What a mess.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m okay, I’m just-“

“What? What is it?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“I’m... you.”

What a fucking mess.

So Steve was Bucky and Bucky was Steve. But at the same time, they were still themselves, just somehow stuck in the other’s body. It had been four hours since the incident and Bucky was still panicking. He felt the responsibility for the “team” weighing his body down - the body that wasn’t his, but most definitely the reason for his distress. They were about to arrive in the next thirty minutes and no one at the compound knew what had happened. No one. Not Tony, not Bruce, not you.

Oh god, you didn’t know your boyfriend was trapped in his best friend’s body. Bucky didn’t even know how he would start to explain it. You were very understanding and patient, but Bucky feared that this might introduce a new sphere of problems neither of you had encountered before.

The two friends hadn’t talked about it. Steve and Bucky both knew it was a problem that needed solving, but Steve had been awfully quiet ever since they boarded the Quinjet home. It certainly didn’t help Bucky relax. At least it was late in the night. The chances of encountering another Avenger when they would get back were small and left him a few hours of dealing with it all - maybe sleep it off.

Who was he kidding?

Bucky wouldn’t be sleeping. He would stay up, wait until it was a reasonable enough hour to drag Bruce to his lab and get him started on fixing the problem not even he knew the actual cause of.

Running, hiding, finding a weird machine, toppling over a storage rack, and the accidental push of a button. An explosion, heat, but no pain - just utter confusion.

Bucky shook his head as he took a seat beside Steve in the cockpit. Not even he would believe himself if he were told this story...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve hadn’t planned for this to happen. He just wanted to explain things to you, tell you what had occurred on the mission - even though he didn’t quite know himself - and then find Bucky. For a second, he had even forgotten. He had forgotten that, in a way, he was Bucky. And that you wouldn’t know until he told you that he was Steve. Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend who had been in love with you from the day he met you.

Yeah... that was an issue. Bucky didn’t know and neither did you. God behold, Steve got in the way of his oldest friend’s happiness. He would never do that. Especially not when that friend had suffered for so long. So, Steve had just kept to himself, watching as Bucky was the one holding you during movie nights, sleeping in your bed, and kissing you goodbye.

It hurt. But Steve had gotten used to the familiar sting in his chest whenever he witnessed his best friend’s hands on you or when your adoring smile was sent his way. He swallowed the pain like it was nothing, and it got easier every time. He still needed to remind himself though: You can’t, Steve. You don’t want to, Steve.

But now... now might have been the only opportunity to get away with it. No. He would never. He couldn’t.

“Bucky!” Your door opened and Steve felt your hands around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips. Wow.

Steve’s body was on fire. The stinging he usually felt in his chest now spreading through his entire body, creating goosebumps on his skin. It felt so different, so good.

Overwhelmed by the feeling, he stumbled forward, guiding you back by your hips and shutting the door with his foot.

Endless nights imagining what your pillowy lips would feel like on his seemed silly now that he tasted you. His mind had never even come close. You were so much softer, so much warmer... so much more rewarding than anything his imagination could cook up.

Steve was addicted now, there was no going back. You were like a drug that tied him to your supply forever.

His hands began to roam your body, moving your hair, smelling your scent, feeling every bump and curve of your body as he got lost in your embrace. It was too easy to forget it wasn’t him you were kissing. Steve was just as tall as your Boyfriend, he was just as strong - every movement, every look - it felt the same.

Hungrily, Steve’s wet kisses wandered down your neck until he reached the spot that drew a grasp from your lips and it made his pants feel tighter.

“What’s this about,” you chuckled as your palm gently pressed against his chest. Steve reluctantly loosened his grip around you just to see that shining smile of yours beaming up at him. Holy shit. This must be what heaven feels like.

“I just missed you-” his answer got swallowed in the crook of your neck again, Steve’s cheek settling to your skin when he mumbled the last part beneath your ear. “...a lot.”

You didn’t even know how much. And as you chuckled and ran your hands down his back, Steve wondered if he could even call it missing when he never really had you in the first place. But then you kissed his shoulder and Steve decided that he didn’t care. Your lips just felt a little too good not to miss in any circumstance - whatever it meant now - and he had lost you to his best friend somehow, so he was allowed to miss.

“Missed you too.” Steve smiled and began to pick up his kissing when he felt your lips press to his shoulder a second time.

It was strange how natural this interaction felt for Steve. He didn't know if that was because he had imagined it a hundred times, dreamt about you more nights than he liked to admit - each time waking with an ache in more places than one and the added incapability to stop it. Steve had not had a girlfriend since he met you. He tried a few hookups, each one with the picture of you in his head, the actual person beneath him serving merely the purpose of physical touch, but it wasn’t enough. Especially now that he knew what it could feel like - kissing you alone - nothing could ever compare.

Lost in his thoughts, his hands wandered down your body, squeezing parts of you he’d only ever imagined touching, and every breathy moan he pulled from you became a tiny celebration in his mind.

Your hands held on tight to his neck when his knee found its way between your legs, your head falling back, giving him just that much more ground to place his soft attacks. He growled against your skin when your sounds grew high pitched, unbelievable gratification consuming his body - driving him further.

This was perfect, this was all he ever wanted this- “Ah, Bucky!” This was wrong.

And Steve was reminded of what he was doing right now. His hands retracted immediately, but you clung to his neck like glue. “Please,” you whimpered and his head fell back into you like an instinct, the urge to bring you pleasure too strong to stop his movements entirely.

But, fuck, he was an awful person.

With trembling hands and a stinging in his chest, he stepped back from you. Your eyes stared at him in confusion, desperate for anything - pleasure, closure. And Steve wanted to give it all to you. But he wasn’t allowed to. He was Steve - your boyfriend’s best friend. A terrible one, too.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” he stuttered through the glossy shimmer forming in his eyes.

“What?” Shit. Steve turned before you could see the first tear fall from his eyes. He couldn’t bear seeing your face any longer - that beautiful, innocent face with so much irritation and sadness poisoning its features. You didn't deserve this, you didn’t deserve to be pulled into this mess by him. It was wrong, so fucking wrong.

Steve sped towards the lab immediately, barely missing Bucky on his way out of the glass doors. But Bucky merely sent a nod his way, leaving Bruce to greet him with an exhausted smile.

“You need to do something. Now.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey.”

Bucky turned around to see you standing in the doorway, a big smile instantly settling on his face. You looked beautiful, he thought every time he saw you - especially after a mission that lasted for several days in which he did not get to see you.

His fingers itched to reach out to you, pull you into him and just kiss your pretty face, but once he caught his left arm lifting, and missing the sleek black gleam he was so used to, Bucky was reminded that he needed to behave differently now.

He hadn’t told you about the accident yet. Bruce seemed to know what he was doing, so Bucky was just hopeful the issue would be resolved soon. Until then, he needed to cope with the constant panic surging through him at his and Steve’s states.

The desk chair squeaked when he tuned to you, watching as you roamed about Steve’s office and eyed the sketch he had framed on the cupboard. That’s when he noticed your posture - how your shoulders were slightly hunched, your head a little lower than usual, and a faint frown hiding behind the hairs falling into your face.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He stood up wanting to approach you but remembering his place again. Now he was just standing there, helpless and unsure of what to do as he watched you toy with the edges of the notebook laying in front of you.

You sighed. “Bucky is being weird... I hope he’s okay but he wouldn’t talk to me.” You glanced at him shortly and the corners of your mouth jerked downward. “I thought maybe... I don’t know, maybe you know what’s going on.” You stared at him hopefully. “Did something happen on the mission?”

I’m right here, baby. And I would be so much better if I could tell you.

Bucky willed his thoughts silent, finally stepping forward and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“It was a long mission, give him some time to rest...” God, he hated lying to you. But it was for the best. He didn’t want you to worry any more than you already did, as much as it hurt to see you this clueless.

Bucky could only imagine how exhausting this whole ordeal was for Steve. He was going through the same thing, but Steve had to juggle you - or as it seemed, ignore you - on top of it. The friends still hadn’t talked about what to do. There had just seemed to be a common understanding settled between them, and that was to keep as many people out of this as possible.

Still, Bucky wondered how his best friend was doing. This was an unusual situation, and he cared for him just as much as he did for you.

“Maybe you’re right.” You turned to him with a saddened face. “But I can’t help but feel like there is something else bothering him. I just want him to be okay...”

“We both do, doll.” Bucky couldn’t help it, he pulled you into his chest by your wrist - hoping it would be less intimate than by your waist like he always did - and tugged your head beneath his chin.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once your body molded against his, the familiar feeling of content mixing with the underlying tension he had been plagued with since the mission. That was what he had needed. To feel you again, touch you, have your arms hug him to your body, and be entranced by your perfume again.

It was hard not to kiss your hair, or inhale your shampoo too obviously when he held you like this. It was what he always did when he was Bucky - but now he was Steve. And Bucky never imagined he could hate being Steve so much.

He shook the thought immediately, focusing on you and squeezing you tight one more time before he let you go. He missed your touch the second you retracted your arms, sending a weak smile up to him. Oh, how he’d love to kiss that frown away, to touch you until he heard that beautiful laugh of yours again. But he couldn’t do it, he was not allowed to - he was Steve.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime.” He smiled reluctantly as he watched you leave with mixed feelings.

Bucky didn’t know how much longer he could endure this.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Thank fucking God!” Bucky exclaimed as he padded down his body - his own body.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of constant worry and agony, lonely nights, and the pressure of keeping this ridiculous secret. But Bruce had finally done it. Bucky didn’t know how - and it wasn’t super important to him either - but he was glad he finally had his own body back.

“You did it!” Steve stated with mild enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure if it made any difference anymore. He didn’t hate himself less for what had happened. But at least, now, he didn’t need to worry about making the mistake again.

Bruce just responded with a proud shrug, a blush almost forming on his cheeks before his smile fell again.

That’s when you entered the lab with a pile of manila folders in your hand.

“What’s going on in here?” You asked, excited to experience a light atmosphere in a room both Steve and Bucky were in. It had been different for a couple weeks now, and Bucky was still acting weird, but something told you, he was getting better. Well, maybe the laugh you had heard from the hallways had, but now he was just staring at you as Bruce did.

“What? Am I interrupting something? I just wanted to give you these files, Banner, I-” you trailed off when your eyes wandered from the men to the desk you had halted next to, a wild array of papers and opened digital files littering the work area as you placed your addition there as well.

You had always been a fast reader - a talent that came in handy more times than one would think - so your eyes scanned the documents in haste, collecting keywords and notes until they landed on a particularly concise one: Possible body switch triggers. What the hell? Super Soldiers. Consciousness. Machine. Serum. Third vessel for transfer. What the hell what the hell what the hell?!

You looked up, willing the confusion to the back of your mind as you pierced Bruce with a cold stare. “A body switch project? Really, Bruce? It’s not like we’re already down one person since Peter decided to test out his new jet-pack prototype.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. Instead, Bucky stepped forward with a reasoning tone. “Baby-“

“And you.” Your finger pointed at him. “I thought you were smarter. First, you’re acting all weird, and now you’re calling me ‘baby’ again,” you stated plainly, crossing your arms. Steve swallowed thickly, watching the interaction between you and Bucky play out with his lip between his teeth. “What- is this why you were behaving so weird? Are you in on this? Are you seriously participating as a lab rat?”

“I... we...” Bucky frantically searched the room for his teammates’ support, trailing off when everyone avoided his eyes. Traitors.

“Who is switching bodies? And why couldn’t you tell me?” The room had gotten silent, but you weren’t about to back down. You wanted answers, especially when the people you cared about did stupid things that risked their lives more than their job already did. You scanned each of them carefully, assessing which one was to break first under your solid stare. Steve was wringing his hands, his eyes trained on the ground - nervous, maybe, scared.

Bruce was sweating bullets. He hated being in fussy situations, always tense to keep the big guy down. He would speak first - de-escalation was his second nature… well, apart from the escalating one.

Bucky had his jaw wired shut, a frequent side eye assessing the state of his fellow coworkers carefully. Nobody wanted to break it to you. Especially since they had hidden the switch from you for two weeks. You weren’t big on betrayal and everyone knew it.

“They-“ Bruce started but was shut up by Bucky’s death stare quickly. How dare he do him so dirty?

“You were saying?” You zeroed in on the scientist, a hopeful yet clueless look on your face, but Bruce was too scared of Bucky to continue. He hated lying to you, everyone did.

But you wouldn’t budge, staring him down, challenging him to break the silence. What was so bad about something that hadn’t even happened yet?

But then a deep voice sounded from the other corner of the room. “Bucky and I did.” Less steady than usual and still avoiding your eyes, Steve let his hands fall to his sides. “On accident...”

And Bucky sighed, half relieved, half angry at his friend.

“What? When?”

“On the last mission,” Bruce chimed in, just to earn another stink eye from Bucky.

“The last mission two weeks ago? Two Weeks?!”

“I wanted to tell you, okay? But we thought it was best if we kept it a secret... for everyone’s sake.” The brunette super soldier stepped forward, his hands showing surrender when he moved into your personal space.

“And you didn’t think to include me? Your girlfriend?” You looked at him appalled. Why the hell did he not say anything? Would you have ever known had you not walked in on-

“I'm sorry.” Your breath hitched when Bucky pulled you into his arms, placing a firm kiss on your head before burying his face in your neck again.

Because that was when you realized - when you remembered - the last time it had happened.

Steve finally dared to look up at the couple in front of him only to find you staring at him over his best friend’s shoulder.

You knew.

Steve could see it in your eyes - that look you were giving him made him shudder. There was slight confusion in your stare, a little sadness, too. You knew, but Steve knew you wouldn’t lose a word over it.

He tore his longing stare from you and looked down bashfully, ticking his jaw before he could say or do anything stupid. That’s when he felt the sorrow covering his senses again, the hurtful pull on his heart that he had become so used to at the sight of you in Bucky’s arms.

He’s had you once, got to taste you once - and it was one time too many, he reminded himself.

And even though it hurt, he found comfort in the familiarity the feeling held.

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smallmarvel · 10 months

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wait do you write for RHCP? There is a shocking lack of RHCP stuff!! I’d love to see some!!

omg hey!! I totally am open to this!! I hope u see this answer, just send in a request with one of the guys and I would so love so fulfill it :) <3

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smallmarvel · 10 months

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Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that.

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

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smallmarvel · 10 months

Text

It's called: freefall

Bucky x Female reader

Summary - Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

Word count - 10k

Warnings - (18+) smut, fingering, p in v, friends to lovers, fake marriage, gross misogynistic man (not Bucko), borderline sexual harassment (not too intense, just gross words, and also not Bucky ofc), fluff, kinda angst, more misogyny.

A/N - Hi, this took me weeks to edit for some reason, sorry, and apologies if it's too long/wordy, i got carried away again. I'm not a big fan of the first half ngl, maybe that's because it's bad, or maybe it's because I've read it about a hundred times. The smut is good though, and that's what really matters.

________________________

"It's just a quick job, I promise. It'll be easy."

Steve gave you a smile of encouragement, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him, before politely averting his gaze to the floor when you lifted your dress slightly to slide your usual dagger into the holster on your thigh.

"Then what's with the getup?" You asked, lifting your head to catch sight of yourself in the mirror opposite you, looking at the dress you had been made to wear.

It was a pretty dress, beautiful actually, the colour beautiful against your skin-tone, perfectly fitted in all the right places, and it flowed down to the floor, a slit travelling up the length of your left leg, ending at your upper thigh.

You felt confident in it, and it was certainly a boost to your ego when Natasha wolf-whistled at the sight of you and Steve turned an impressive shade of red, but it wasn't something you were used to, having spent the past few years of your life dodging and refusing Tony's party invites, sticking to the comfiest clothes you owned when walking about the compound. It was a beautiful dress, but you couldn't help but feel like an imposter wearing it.

Natasha strode over to you and slightly adjusted the placement of your knife, ensuring it wasn't visible through the dress. "Daniel Kozlov. He's been on Shield's hit list for years now, fucker keeps catching and killing our agents on the inside."

You scoffed amusedly and shook your head, "What, so you send me in to get killed too?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, I've seen you take down four armed men with a screwdriver; you'll be fine, plus, you'll have Bucky and he knows how to stay undetected." Steve reassured you and you smiled at him, nodding to his words.

You heard footsteps behind you only moments before another voice spoke up, and you turned to the door, your breath catching in your throat as you did.

"That I do," Bucky nodded to Steve as he entered the room, eyes focused on his hands, adjusting his cuff links with a furrowed brow, before he finally tilted his gaze up, meeting your wide eyes with his own.

You barely noticed him looking you up and down, as you were too busy doing the exact same thing to him, no doubt probably being incredibly obvious as you stared with your lips parted. He looked like pure fucking sin.

Unadulterated and unfiltered sin.

His suit was all black and his pale, blue eyes contrasted against the colour, somehow making them stand out even more than usual. His already incredibly muscular arms and legs were accentuated, the expensive fabric tight against his skin, without it looking strange and uncomfortable, it only drew your attention to how broad his shoulders were compared to his narrow waist, or how thick his thighs looked in the black dress pants.

Multiple silver rings graced his fingers, matching with the silver, designer watch on his left wrist and you did a double-take when you noticed that his watch was wrapped around skin, not vibranium.

"Your arm." You said, sounding more like a statement than a question and Bucky forced himself to tear his gaze from your exposed thigh and tried to hide his pink dusted cheeks and breathless intake of air as his eyes followed yours to his metal arm, now concealed by what looked to be skin.

"Yeah." His voice came out as a sigh. He didn't know why, most amputees like him he was sure would be over the moon with the impressive technology, but it just made him uncomfortable, seeing his arm how he did 70 years ago. I felt inherently wrong. "Tony."

You nodded, looking away from his hand. A part of you was annoyed Tony had given it to him, knowing that it took Bucky years to accept that part of himself, and this seemed like it would be a setback in that department, though you still understood why it was necessary, Bucky was the best for the job, and chances are a criminal as 'highbrow' as Kozlov, would recognise the arm.

You wanted to change the subject, and you could tell Bucky did too, so you huffed a laugh and met his eyes, jokingly poking his chest with your finger, "You look like a mobster."

He nodded and chuckled, "Thanks, I guess. You look like a mobster's wife."

"Wife huh? Is that what we're doing?" You ask, turning your head to look down at Nat questioningly as she finished with your dress.

"Did they not tell you?" Bucky asked and you shook your head.

"I missed the briefing but Steve here thought he'd sign me up anyway." You gave the blonde a jokey, reprimanding look and he sighed, picking up two folders from the table and handing them to you.

"Blue one is about Kozlov, and the black is about who you and Bucky are going to be playing."

You take the folders from Steve, handing the blue one to Natasha as you open the black one, "James and Lucille Walter. Hey, how come he gets to keep his name and I get Lucille?"

"That's just a coincidence and I'm sure Bucky isn't too happy about it either. You're pretending to be a real couple, James Walter is one of Kozlov's newest buyers, he doesn't know him very well though, that's why you two shouldn't be caught out by anyone."

Nodding to Steve's words, you quickly skim over the rest of the folder, memorising as much as you can, before swapping with Nat and reading the other one, "And where are the real James and Lucille Walter?"

"Dead."

You stop your reading and turn to Natasha at the sound of her voice, giving her a look when she tried to hide her smirk.

"Ah, yes. Courtesy of Natasha Romanoff herself, Mr and Mrs Walter are in fact, dead" Steve spoke dramatically, causing you to scoff and wink at the redhead beside you.

"We should leave now. I'll explain further in the car and give you a rundown of the plan. Should be an easy job." Bucky takes the folders from you and tucks them under his arm, signalling for you to walk out the door and you give Steve and Natasha a smirk before you leave.

"Wish me luck guys."

_______________________________________

You were picked up from the compound by one of Stark's trusted drivers and Bucky described the plan in detail to you on the way there, but as you arrived closer and closer to your destination, you felt the nerves come on.

Usually, you were behind a computer screen on missions, hacking security cameras and breaking into encrypted files, you had no doubt of your fighting skills, you've been training almost your whole life, and the few missions you've done where you've had to fight were smooth sailing, but you had never done undercover before.

You started nibbling on your lower lip as soon as the car pulled up, doubting yourself again despite the amount of times Natasha has given you a whole speech about why you had no reason to ever do that.

The door on Bucky's side opened and when he offered you his arm to help you out of the car, meeting your eyes and giving you a gentle smile, you felt the nerves calm slightly.

You and Bucky were close in a way that no one had expected, considering he had the tendency to keep himself away from people and stay quiet when he was forced to socialise. You were slow-paced and gentle with him, a huge contrast to the way Sam would constantly be on Bucky about his lack of social skills, or Tony dragging him to parties he had no interest in. Sam always has the best intentions, but sometimes can be a little too enthusiastic for Bucky, and Tony, well sometimes Tony's just a dick with full knowledge of the fact that he's being one, and not a single care in the world about it.

You and Bucky both had an understanding, you had confided in him about your fears, your anxiety, and he had managed to do the same.

You just couldn't help but develop a teeny tiny crush on him over the past few months.

"Don't work yourself up, stay in character, stay alert, and remember the plan."

Nodding to him, you took a deep breath and put yourself into character, reminding yourself of yours and Bucky's new names, keeping your head up as you entered the party, an expensive diamond wrapped around your left ring finger with a similar pattern to the silver band Bucky had on his.

The hall was beautiful, gold detailing adorned the large doors and walls, reaching up to the ceiling to create beautiful patterns against the pristine white of the building. The party-goers were even more beautiful, hundreds of gowns and suits worth more than your life, probably bought and worn for a single night, before they're discarded and forgotten in the back of their walk-in closets.

You felt like you didn't fit in at all, but you watched as party guests eyed the two of you, and they seemed to be approving.

It didn't take you and Bucky long to get situated, stood in the corner of the extravagant hall with a glass of champagne now in your hand as you surveyed the exits and bodyguards, and Bucky looked for the target.

The mission was just a small lead in a huge investigation. You and Bucky were just here to buy something from Kozlov and then get out.

"Got him, 4 o-clock. He's surrounded but he should be expecting us so it shouldn't be an issue." Bucky had leant down to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling against your neck and causing a shiver to rake over your shoulders.

Fuck, he smelled like sin too.

It made you want to take a deeper breath, made you want to pull him even closer, close enough to close that small gap between your lips and kiss him till you run out of breath, and as much as that would be inconspicuous and normal for James and Lucille Walter, it would be completely inappropriate for Bucky and Y/n.

"We shouldn't go over yet. Let's just mingle a bit, get more of a feel of this place and blend into the background as much as we can." You add, and Bucky nods, surveying the room again before meeting your eyes.

"Good idea, but when we do go over, don't make eye contact with him and don't say anything," said Bucky. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, giving him a slightly annoyed, but understanding smile, and he smiled back apologetically, "I know, it's stupid, but that's what these guys are like. If he so much as thinks that you're either, on the table or threatening his masculinity, we're in trouble. Okay?"

You understood what Bucky was saying, men like Kozlov, they see women as property, or in some cases, currency. It's best to stay off their radar as best you can, which includes not threatening his masculinity by daring to look him in the eyes.

Women were to keep their heads down.

Which was bullshit.

"Okay."

He gives you a final nod and you think he's finally about to pull away and have mercy on your heart, but before he does, he pauses and presses his soft, warm lips to your cheek in a gentle kiss.

Air gets caught in your throat as it happens, but you try not to make an audible noise, quickly pulling yourself together and reminding yourself that you and Bucky are pretending to be a couple and he's just trying to sell it better. It makes sense.

It's just pretend.

You spend the whole evening with your hand wrapped around Bucky's bicep, neither of you breaking apart for anything as random people come up to you and try to start conversations. Usually, one of you will take one for the team and has to stand there talking about money and beach houses for five minutes, plus the occasional question about kids, which seemed to make Bucky blush every time, as the other keeps an eye on Kozlov.

"So how long have you two been married?" A seemingly kind lady asks, her red dress matching her lips as they stretch into an awkward smile.

"A year in June," You respond, well-rehearsed at this point as you smile up at your pretend husband, "Can't believe how quickly it's going."

Bucky is quick thinking with the act, and he smiles down at you, his arm wrapping gently around your waist and squeezing you to his side. Your heart probably stopped beating for a moment, and you wondered how he got so good at this, before brushing the thought away and looking back to the woman in the red dress, smiling warmly at her too.

"Ah, bet you two are still in the honeymoon phase. You look completely smitten with each other, it's adorable." She scrunched her nose up on the word 'adorable', her gaze flicking between the two of you before she glanced at her own husband, standing a few feet away as he laughed with a larger group of men, a big glass of whiskey in his hand. She sighed.

You tried to keep your face neutral, smiling and nodding along, but something about what she had said had caught in your chest, and you wished you could see just for a moment from someone else's eyes, just how 'smitten' you both look.

You felt bad for the woman, who stood in the middle of the huge ballroom completely alone and abandoned by her husband, but there wasn't anything you could do for her, and Bucky was subtly hinting to you that you were to go speak with Kozlov soon, so you kissed her cheek and bid her goodbye.

You spared Bucky a quick glance and he was focused on Kozlov, his face stoic as he glanced in his direction discreetly, scanning the exits too, checking for close-by security cameras and windows again, just in case.

"I think it's time, doll." He murmured.

You quickly lift your head to meet his eyes, the pet-name he usually only used when you were tipsy and would brush it off casually, slipping off his tongue, though it had the same effect sober or not, you blushed and nodded.

He smiled at you, almost looking fond, though you were pretty sure he was just offering you a break from the stoic, mission orientated Bucky, before he took a deep breath and reached for your hand on his bicep to hold it with his own, gently squeezing before guiding you towards the target.

As you walked Kozlov's way, who was surrounded by burly, most definitely armed bodyguards, you noticed the women surrounding him too, some with their husbands and all of them looking beyond uncomfortable, staring out at the party with bored, or even nervous expressions.

"James Walter," Bucky nodded to one of the bodyguards, who had stopped you both from passing, and the bodyguard shared a look with another, before nodding and letting you walk on.

Daniel Kozlov was sat comfortably in a velvet armchair as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, seemingly stuck in a boring conversation as he stared at the wall before him, completely uninterested in what the man talking to him had to say.

"Mr Kozlov, I'm James Walter, It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Kozlov perked up at the sound of a new voice and a wide, Cheshire cat grin formed on his lips as he regarded you and Bucky, though you kept your eyes to the floor, or seemingly 'admiring' the expensive decorations as the men spoke.

"Ah, my new friend! I was hoping you'd show up, had a few men flake out on me recently," The man spoke dramatically, his thick European accent prevalent and images of his file flashed in your head, remembering that Shield had been taking down his buyers one by one, either arresting them on other charges or putting a bullet between their eyes as Natasha had done with the real Mr and Mrs Walter.

They weren't particularly very nice people, so you didn't hold much guilt for their deaths, or stealing their identity after the fact.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sir. Heard you've got something I have my interests set on." Bucky's voice was smooth and charismatic, matching Kozlov's energy as best he could, and you couldn't lie, it made your blood run warmer, heat spreading to certain parts of your body you were ashamed to admit were reacting to the confidence he exuded tonight.

"Hm... I suppose I do. Do you always allow your wife to be a part of your deals?" Your looked up slightly at his mention of you, and Kozlov smirked wickedly at the expression on your face, "Women can be god-awful gossips sometimes."

This fucking guy-

Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, forcing the words from his tongue, "I assure you, sir. She is nothing to worry about."

He was just as pissed as you were.

"I don't know, she doesn't really seem like the quiet type, I reckon she's a loud-mouth once she's on her back, although I'm sure having her on her knees will shut her up nice and quiet." He chuckled darkly and Bucky's hand was holding yours so tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching, measured breaths exhaled through his nose, he still managed to keep his face blank though, as did you, quietly seething as you put on the frightened baby deer look that men seemed to love, staring down at the floor.

He needed to think you were in the same position as the other poor, frightened women here, that he'd get bored with you all the same.

You swallowed your tongue though, wanting nothing more than to speak up and put the bastard in his place, right before beating the absolute shit out of him, though you knew that would come in due time, for now all you could do was finish this fucking mission.

"She won't be a problem."

Kozlov laughed, knowing he was getting under James' skin. He stood from the armchair and nodded towards Bucky, the smile sinking, trying to look intimidating, despite the fact that he was practically less than half the size of Bucky, "Make your payment."

Bucky pulled a phone from his pocket, sending a single word in a text and waiting for the confirmation only seconds later, before tucking it away again, "Payment made."

Daniel looked over at a man sat in the corner with a laptop and when he nodded, he turned back to look at Bucky, his hand sneaking into his own pocket and pulling out a hard drive, handing it to Bucky before taking a step back and looking you up and down.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your irritation, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll your eyes at the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat, Bucky opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a glare.

"I asked the wife, not you. Name?" He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously quick to anger, and you fought back the urge to fucking bitch slap him, take the dagger from your thigh and press it to his neck, but you were sticking to the deer in headlights act.

"Lucille."

A smirk overtook his face, a healed scar on his cheek stretching as he did so, "Pretty name for a pretty thing."

At this point, Bucky was squeezing your hand so hard again, your fingers were starting to go numb, the rings he was wearing digging uncomfortably into your skin, but you didn't pull away, instead, you returned the tight grip to try to reassure him.

Taking a step closer to you, Daniel Kozlov lifted his hand to your cheek, making you flinch slightly and you clenched your jaw when the back of his hand caressed your cheek, his skin ice-cold against yours.

"I happen to collect pretty things."

Bucky felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he couldn't do anything besides stand there and watch, stepping out of line in any way would end in a fight, and he knew he couldn't risk lives, or the mission.

A part of you was expecting him to backhand you, but he never did Instead, he touched your cheek for a while longer, glancing over at Bucky with a smile before he took a step away from you and laughed at the murderous look Bucky was trying to hide, he knew that Bucky was in a position where there wasn't much he could do to stop him, and he openly mocked him for it, "I could take her off your hands for the night for you, teach her some manners. Maybe she'll learn to answer her superiors quickly, when they ask her a question."

"Not necessary." Bucky's voice was scarily even, but his jaw was aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth together and he started pulling you closer to him, shooting Kozlov a dangerous glare, "I think it's time we leave."

"Of course, of course. No doubt you need to get her to bed."

Bucky ignored his words and turned, pushing his way past the bodyguards and pulling you along by your hand, making you stumble in your heels.

"James." You called out as you tried to catch up with him. His grip on your hand was starting to hurt again but he kept walking with intent, pulling you out of the grand doors at the entrance to the hall and towards the expensive car you had arrived in.

He handed the driver a wad of cash and told him to leave, giving him a silent glare which obviously meant 'fuck off' when the guy hesitated.

As Bucky pulled open the passenger seat door and helped you into the car, you glared at him, though when he ducked his head into the car and leant over you to put your seatbelt on for you, the intensity behind the glare faded and you were left just staring wide eyed at him, and instead of yelling at him and telling him that you were perfectly capable of doing your own seatbelt, you were lost for words with how close his body was to yours, his breath fanning against your bare shoulder.

You could only breathe when he pulled away and slammed the door shut, rounding the car to get into the driver's seat, not sparing you another glance as he turned on the engine and put the car into gear, speeding off into the city.

his frustration and anger filled the space with tension.

"Bucky, you need to calm down," You tried but he continued to ignore you, one hand on the gear stick and the other gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. You sighed, his frustration and anger filled the space with tension, and you concluded that he was a grown man who could calm himself down.

You dropped your head against the seat as you focused on the view outside your window, the lights of the city burning bright against the night sky.

You glanced at the side-view mirror, and rolled your eyes when you realised it was the same car that was behind you when you left the party, "We're being followed."

Bucky's hearing was obviously working. When he heard what you said, his eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and he sighed heavily, "Fuck."

"Where are we gonna go? None of the safehouses are fancy enough for Mr and Mrs Walter."

"We'll have to go to a hotel, they shouldn't give us any trouble unless we seem suspicious. There's no way Kozlov would have us killed immediately after a sale, too risky," You nod at his words, knowing that Bucky was an expert at things like this due to his past with Hydra, he knew how men like Kozlov worked, how their brains ticked, and you trusted him completely. "Okay, I know where to go." He said as you kept an eye on the car, taking note of the plate number and trying to get a view of the person driving it, "Text Nat with the burner in my pocket, tell her we'll be at The Pierre, tell her to bring backup just in case but keep them minimally armed, it's just a precaution."

You sigh again, looking away from the car behind you and back to Bucky, "Which pocket?"

"Inside pocket, left side."

You nibbled on your lower lip as you reached over to him, and he tilted his body to you slightly in assistance. Bucky gulped, and you blushed as your hands brushed against his shirt when you reached into his suit jacket, searching for the pocket.

His body was incredibly warm and it only made you want to draw out the situation even longer as Bucky fought to keep his concentration on the road and the car behind, but eventually, your fingers brushed against the phone and you hesitantly pulled it out and sat back in your seat, a long exhale coming from him as you did so and he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, shooting you a quick glance, his gaze falling to how exposed your thigh had become with the movement, though he tore his eyes away quickly.

You slipped the phone back into Bucky's pocket once you had received Natasha's quick response, and Bucky pulled up to the hotel. You watched in quiet amusement as the man following parked not-so-discreetly, a bit further down the street.

"Remember who your playing." Bucky shot you a final glance as he turned off the ignition and got out of the car, straightening out his suit jacket as he walked to the passenger side and pulled open the door, offering his arm to you and helping you out of the car.

You hated how real it all felt, him doting on you when you were trying desperately hard to convince yourself it was an act, but you still wrapped both your hands around his arm, draping yourself against his side as you walked towards the entrance, telling yourself that you did it only for the upkeep of the ruse.

The tension between you was undeniable as Bucky looked down at you, his expression serious, but not stern, only intense.

"James? Are we going in?" You asked, using his fake yet real name and it seemed to wake him from his daze, nodding as he reminded himself of his surroundings and the man now wandering closer to them, his phone to his ear, though he didn't speak into it.

"Course, doll. Just admiring my wife's beauty in the city lights."

Your mouth fell open slightly at his words but he didn't give you much time to react before he was walking you into the hotel, and you were thankful that he wasn't dragging you this time.

Bucky didn't waste any time, quickly moving to one of the people running the front desk and glaring down at him.

"Name?"

"James Walter," He spoke and the man nodded, typing something out on his computer before handing Bucky a black key-card, giving him a fearful smile.

Stepping away from the front desk, Bucky moved to your left as he discreetly put his hand into his pocket and slipped the burner phone into your hand, and you switched the phone into your right hand once you realised his plan, tossing the phone into the garbage bag on the back of a janitors cart before walking into the elevator.

You sighed heavily as you both finally entered the hotel room, trudging to the bed in the middle of the giant room and collapsing on it as Bucky started scoping out the room, quickly checking the bathroom and shutting all the curtains.

"We're going to have to stay here all night, aren't we? That guy isn't gonna go anywhere." You sighed, closing your eyes as you sunk into the mattress.

"One bed." Bucky said, and you peaked your eyes open one at a time, moving your gaze to the man now slouched in the armchair tucked into the corner of the large room, still looking beyond annoyed.

"Huh?"

His jaw ticked in annoyance as his head fell back against the chair, "There's only one bed."

Oh.

"Oh," You sat up on the bed, looking around the room awkwardly.

You didn't really want to think about what that could mean, it either formed butterflies in your stomach, or disappointment.

He didn't have to act so upset about it.

"Is it that bad?" You scoffed, half joking, half serious, and Bucky lifted his head, his eyes widening, lips parted.

"No, that's not what I-" He cut himself off, sighing and furrowing his eyebrows, looking guilty, "Sorry. I'm just so fucking annoyed."

You smiled and nodded, "I know, me too. We're one step closer to getting this guy though, Buck."

He nodded too, eyes closing again, his jaw unclenching, finding some kind of relief in your words.

"We don't have to share if you don't want, but I'm okay with it if you are. I trust you. Plus, we've fallen asleep on the couch together before, can't be that much different." You shrugged, acting nonchalant, although you felt extremely not, as you stood up, sick of the feeling of your knife's handle digging uncomfortably in your skin.

You pulled your skirt up to expose your other thigh, lifting your right foot to rest on the bed, while making sure not to flash Bucky in the process as you pull the dagger out, throwing it back on the bed, leaving the garter on for now.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight, watching as your dagger glided against the skin of your thigh as you removed it from yourself, tossing it onto the white bed sheets before dropping your foot back to the floor.

"No it's... I don't- uh." He trailed off, losing his train of thought, obviously distracted.

You looked at him, eyes dropping to follow the movement of his tongue wetting his lips, and you knew you'd never get the sight of him right now out of your mind. His legs were spread, sitting comfortably in the chair, one of his arms draped over the arm of the chair, while he rested his elbow with the other one, holding his head up with his thumb and index finger on the side of his tilted head.

He regarded you silently, his eyes dazed, and you wondered if it could possibly be because he was feeling the same exact way as you right now.

Bucky was struggling to think straight, scrunching his face up in frustration when he finally snapped out of his daze, the frustration completely different to what he was feeling before, now he just couldn't get the image of your thighs out of his mind, or the black thigh garter you still wore under your dress.

God, you drive him fucking crazy.

You chewed the inside of your cheek when he sighed again, "Buck, you need to chill out. I know Kozlov is a fucking asshole, but we expected that. We got the mission done with no big issues."

He stared up at the ceiling, feeling so guilty that he was looking at you that way, thinking about you in that way, especially after the reminder of Kozlov and how undoubtedly uncomfortable he must've made you feel.

"I know, I just hate feeling powerless. That prick was touching you and saying horrible shit and I just stood there-"

"Bucky."

He huffed a breath and opened his eyes, only to be met with the beautiful sight of you stood before him, only a few feet away, your dress clinging to all the right places and your eyes locked to his and he felt a familiar heat stirring up inside him again. He stared up at you as if you were a heaven-sent angel.

The tension in the room was so thick, and you both knew why, though neither of you had the guts to admit, nor say anything about it.

Your intentions were pure at first, and for some reason, on the way towards where he was sitting, you never thought about the very un-pure version of your actions until you were stood in front of him, barely thinking about it when you sunk to your knees before him, your hands resting just above his knees on his spread legs.

At first, you told yourself it was because you wanted to talk to him properly, make sure he was okay, and that included you being on his level physically, but now you realised it was mostly because you so desperately wanted to see him like this, his gaze heated, looking down at you between his thighs with parted lips.

It didn't matter that you were the one on your knees, you'd never felt more powerful.

His gaze was unwavering, the intense, lustful look in his eyes alone had you clenching your thighs together as you thought about your next move, and Bucky lifted one of his hands towards your face, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, just as Kozlov had done earlier, though this touch was completely different, and your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping you as his fingers caressed your cheek, ridding the memory of Kozlov's cold skin against yours with his soft, warm touch, and you pulled your eyes open to meet his again, lifting your hand to take hold of his.

You looked down at the rings he was wearing, one on almost each finger, apparently it was a common style choice from James Walter, and it wasn't the first time tonight that you'd silently thanked the dead mobster for that fact.

They'd been catching your eye all night, and you lifted his knuckles to your lips, placing a kiss against the smooth metal of the first one on his index finger, and then the next one, and the next.

Bucky watched you kiss his rings, his eyes darkening with every touch of your soft lips to his knuckles, so entranced by you, slowly sinking further into the seat, melting with each touch.

He couldn't think of any repercussions right now, couldn't think of a single reason to stop you, all he could think about was what you were doing to him right now, and where these actions could lead you, and his pants were getting tighter by the second.

You met his eyes with your lips still on his knuckles, and you both immediately knew what this was, where this could be going, and that the thick tension between you, was sexual tension like no other.

Bucky's heart must've stopped when you opened his fist and slipped his index and middle finger past your lips, enveloping them in the hot, wetness of your mouth, your soft tongue circling over his digits, sucking on them, He couldn't help but groan, leaning his head back, though still keeping his half-lidded eyes on you.

"Fuck, doll. So fuckin' gorgeous."

You weren't thinking straight, you must not've been, because why the hell would you be doing this, why was it something you didn't even have to question, why did it feel so natural, and so fucking right.

The words that slipped past his lips were doing things to you, and the way that his fingers pressed down on your tongue slightly, but weren't nearly as heavy against it as something else you wanted on your tongue would be, you were a goner, and your underwear was already soaked.

You pulled his fingers from your mouth but kept hold of them as you crawled onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, his lips so close to yours you were sharing breath.

Slowly, you guided his fingers down, sliding them under the slit in your dress to bring them to your covered core, watching his facial expression intently, watching for any sign of discomfort.

There was none, and his breath caught in his throat when his fingers made contact, the heat of you radiating against his hand, he could already feel how wet you are.

"Fuck." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing, forehead resting on yours, "You sure about this sweetheart? You want me to touch you?"

You nodded immediately, biting your lower lip, pressing his hand against you harder, "Yes. Are you sure?"

He nodded back, "Never been more sure about anything in my fuckin' life."

You moaned when he finally started moving his fingers, circling your clit gently over your underwear, though with enough pressure to give some sort of relief, but it was when he pulled your panties aside, and dipped his fingers into your wetness, spreading your folds and gathering your slick, before pressing his fingers against your clit and rubbing you in tighter circles, that you were a mess in his lap.

"Bucky-" You whimpered, rolling your hips slightly, and he licked his lips again, nudging his nose against yours, wanting so desperately to kiss you, but also not wanting to miss a single expression you made, he wanted to watch you fall apart under his touch, again, and again, and again.

"You know something, sweetheart?" He asked, waiting for confirmation that you were paying attention to him before continuing.

You rolled your hips again, staring into his eyes, moaning out in pleasure, "What?"

"You drove me fucking crazy tonight, every time you touched me, every time you looked at me- God, whenever you said my name- I'd never heard you call me that before, my first name, fuck I don't ever want to stop hearin' you callin' me that."

His words made you dizzy, the confirmation that he'd felt the same as you all night, the confession that he loved it when you called him 'James' just as much as you loved calling him it, you were sinking deeper and deeper into this feeling, that this moment couldn't be more right, more necessary, like you'd both been needing this for months now.

By the time he had finished talking, he had slowed his touch to a complete stop, and dipped his fingers lower, pushing them inside you.

You gasped, he groaned, and when he curled them, finding that sweet spot inside you and pushing against it perfectly, you cried out, dropping your forehead to his shoulder and tucking your face in his neck.

He didn't let up with his gentle thrusting, and the insistent rubbing against that spongy spot inside of your cunt. He used his free hand to move your head from his shoulder, leaning himself forward slightly, holding you closer, and finally kissing you.

You whimpered and moaned against his lips, though returned the kiss passionately, both of your hands in his hair, your tongue gliding against his own.

This was unlike any experience you'd ever had, every touch dialled up to 100.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, still curling and rubbing his fingers against your walls, and when you started to clench down on him, he pulled back from the kiss.

"C'mon, kitten, cum on my fingers like a good girl." He purred, and your head tilted back, moaning as you came, your orgasm only spurred on quicker by his words.

"James-" You whimpered, his touch not letting up as he pleasured you through your orgasm, though when you were through most of it, you crashed your lips to his.

You kissed until you ran out of breath, doing exactly what you had wanted to do earlier, what you had wanted to do for months. Bucky gently eased his fingers out of you, and when you tucked your face in his neck again, catching your breath, you could tell he was sucking them clean, moaning at the taste of you.

It was quiet for a moment between you, only the gentle sound of your slightly laboured breath filling the space, Bucky held you close to him, his fingers gently tracing up and down your spine through the fabric of your dress, you gave a pleased hum and kissed his neck, just above his collar.

It didn't matter that you'd just barely come down from an orgasm, you needed more, you needed him.

"James." You whispered against his neck, just below his ear and he just about melted into the chair beneath you, humming to let you know he was listening, though you didn't say anything else, a part of you just wanted to say his name again, and to feel his pleased reaction to it.

His body was so warm under yours, but there were far too many layers of fabric between you and him and you desperately wanted to fix that, 'adjusting' yourself on his lap just so you could provide some friction between you, biting your lip and sighing into his ear when you felt how hard he was beneath you, he groaned and gripped your hips tightly.

"I wanna feel you inside me, James." Your voice was as sweet as sugar, breath warm against his skin, and your heated core was seated just above where his hard cock was pressing tightly against his pants, throbbing with every small movement you made.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He husked, no doubt sounding like a broken record, though he didn't care much about that, not when you were pressing yourself against him like that, slowly rocking in his lap, not when he could still faintly taste you in his mouth from where he had sucked his fingers clean, not with your mouth on his neck, whispering dirty things.

You kissed the hinge of his jaw, then ghosted your lips lower, pressing a kiss just below his ear, before making your way to the other side, leaving sweet kisses as you went.

You met his eye as you traced your hand up his black shirt, watching his expression as you slowly loosened his tie, and popped the top button open, and then the next, giving yourself better access to the skin there, kissing below his Adam's apple.

"C'mon, Buck. You wanna fuck me?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes this time, teasing him with a smirk.

He bit his lip, holding your cheek in his palm, thumb swiping across your cheekbone, his eyes darting across your face, taking in every detail he could while he was so close to you.

So pretty.

"I do, of course I do, doll." He said back, his eyes following the movement of his thumb against soft skin. You could sense the 'but' coming, "But... I don't think we should-"

"Bucky." You interrupted, stopping what you know would've become this huge, self-doubting, self-sabotaging speech, and he met your eyes again, sighing slightly, his head tilted, "If we both want this, then why can't we have it?"

He didn't know what to say, he couldn't imagine a world were someone would really want him, as he was, much less a smart, loving and kind, beautiful girl like yourself. He believed you when you said you wanted this, but was still unsure if you would really want him, want him beyond this moment.

"If we go further, I'll never be able to get enough of you." He spoke quietly, this moment between you was so intimate, which was something he'd not experienced in decades. It was terrifying, but so perfect, so right.

"You have all of me, Bucky. I want you, not just tonight. I've wanted you for months, honey, and if you want me too then what have we got to lose? You can have me whenever you need me, whenever you want me, I'm yours, yours now, yours tomorrow. If you need a hug," You wrapped your arms around his neck as you spoke and held him tighter, "If you need a kiss," You pressed your lips to his, "If you need a release; I'll be there, because you have me, always have."

By the time you were just halfway into your speech, Bucky was a puddle, his brain short-circuiting, his heart beating much faster than it should be with him just sitting, and his whole world view collapsing.

You were his.

You wanted to be his.

He was yours completely.

He surged forward to press his lips to yours, and kissed you for a long moment, using his tongue to memorise the feel of your mouth, the heat of your own tongue against his, and he stood as he kissed you, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He carried you with such ease and sat down on the edge of the huge bed, not once breaking the kiss, or putting an ounce space between your bodies.

You helped him to shrug off his suit jacket, tossing it to the floor as if it didn't probably cost hundreds of dollars, and deft fingers quickly reached to undo his tie.

The tie was silky and smooth, and your imagination was bright with ideas, the image of Bucky fucking you, with your hands tied above your head, or maybe tying Bucky up just the same, kissing his cock teasingly, without letting him touch you.

You tabled the ideas for now, tossing the tie aside.

You could experiment with him in due time, for now you just wanted to be able to touch him as much as possible.

You were both still enraptured in the kiss when Bucky stood again, this time turning around, and laying you down on the mattress, pressing himself against you as he placed one last kiss on your lips, and pulled back to admire the sight of you, blushing with kiss-bitten lips as you lay beneath him.

He traced his hands down your body and stood at the end of the bed, his shirt almost halfway undone.

His fingers glided down your legs, and ended at your ankles as he eyed the strappy heals you wore, admiring how beautiful you looked in them. He imagined keeping them on you, stripping you down and bending you over the closest surface, whilst still wearing the heels, maybe keeping on the thigh-garter too, but he wanted you comfortable, and he wanted you naked.

Gently, he undid the strap on one of your heels, and slowly pulled it off, before doing the same to the other one.

He kept glancing up at you as he did so, watching you so intently, he didn't dare miss a single moment, a single change in your expression.

His hands traced back up your legs, this time, he kissed his way up too, kissing you ankle, your shin, just below the garter.

He stopped himself though, and looked you in the eyes, that serious look returning, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes. Please, James."

He smirked, he couldn't not, and his hand drifted to your hip, squeezing there, before using both his hands to flip you over, leaning over you and pressing his hand against your back.

You gasped in surprise, and then felt his fingers against the zip of the dress, his breath against the nape of your neck.

"Should we take this off?" He asked sweetly, and you nodded silently, your voice trapped in your throat, that cocky, dominant persona you had taken on earlier apparently about to be fucked out of you. You couldn't wait.

He flipped you back over to help ease the dress off, leaving you only in a lacy pair of underwear, your chest exposed to him, and once the dress was on the floor, and Bucky allowed himself the chance to finally look at you, he groaned roughly, draping his body over yours and reaching up to caress your breasts, watching as his thumb traced over the hardened peaks of your nipples, "So fucking gorgeous."

Your hands were in his hair, back arching into his touch when he took your nipple into his mouth, paying attention to the other one with his fingers, and as much as you were enjoying it, he was still wearing way too much, and you put your fingers under his chin, pulling his mouth away from you.

He kissed you as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it off, quickly followed by his pants and soon you were both left in your underwear.

You pushed at his shoulder, and he eventually got the memo, and rolled aside, letting you sit on top of him, carefully moving the dagger you had left on the bed onto the bedside table.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he continued to kiss down your chest, but your eyes drifted to the hand he had on your waist, the left one, that still looked like skin even though it wasn't.

You had almost completely forgotten about it, it felt just like skin, was warm like skin, and looked unbelievably life-like, but there was something about it that you really didn't like, it wasn't him, it might've been once, but as Bucky has told you before, he's not been the man he was back in the 40s in over seventy years, and he probably wouldn't ever be him again, which you reminded him was okay, that he didn't owe Steve the version of himself that Bucky thought he would need.

You knew about the struggles Bucky has had with his metal arm, the history that there is behind it, and the hatred he had for it when he was first rehabilitated. You didn't want this impressive Stark invention to become something he used to hide this part of himself, against the needs of his own healing.

You started at his left shoulder, and traced your fingers down the arm, stopping at the silver watch on his wrist, and Bucky stopped kissing you, watching you, waiting.

"Is it the watch?" You asked, and he hesitated, before nodding.

"You don't have to take it off."

You paused, looking down at him, he looked slightly uncomfortable, and you needed to change that.

"I'd like to take it off. Do you want to leave it on?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question. It made him uncomfortable, seeing the uncanny, flesh arm in place of the metal one he knew was there, and to see a human arm, yet not be able to really feel the touch of your skin against it, only pressure and heat. He didn't like it.

He shook his head, and you smiled, kissing him again as you carefully undid the watch with your mouth still on his, pulling back to see his metal arm visible again, and you intertwined your fingers with his, metal against skin.

You did the same with his other hand, intertwining your fingers, before lifting them both above his head, pressing them into the mattress. You knew he could very easily break out of your grasp, but that didn't make the sight any less pleasing.

You rocked your hips against his, just as you did before, and he groaned, lifting his own hips, seeking more friction.

Reluctantly, you released his hands, and quickly took off your underwear, leaving you naked above him, before you took his off too.

You couldn't possibly be any wetter, your inner thighs a mess of slick as you watched his cock slap against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking at the tip.

"Fuck, James. D'you know how beautiful you are?" You asked, slowly touching the underside of his cock, tracing an enticing vein, before gripping him in your hand and squeezing him.

A moan slipped past his lips, hips lifting from the bed again.

He shook his head in response to you, smiling, "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

He flipped you both over again, his hands tracing your body, lingering in certain areas, squeezing your breasts, caressing your stomach, lifting your thigh to rest on his hip, dipping between your legs to press down on your clit, "You're fuckin' breathtaking, doll, and so fucking wet."

He gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, and dipped them back into his mouth again for a taste, moaning around them.

"I wanna eat you so bad, kitten." He lowered himself to you, resting on his elbows on either side of your head, kissing your neck.

"Later. I need you inside me, James." You pressed your core against him, and he nodded, reaching between the two of you to line himself up, slowly easing inside.

You both moaned as he slid inside you, Bucky's eyes fluttering shut, savouring the sensation whilst trying desperately hard not to give in to the urge to immediately bury himself at the hilt, and fuck you without a moments hesitation.

His hips twitched, cock throbbing inside of you, both of you were so desperate for this, and when he finally pulled his hips back, and rolled them back to yours, it was relief like no other.

His first few thrusts were slower, so enraptured by how you felt around him, hot and wet, and fucking perfect. Eventually, he started to speed up, but favoured fucking you harder, rather than faster. He didn't want this to end too quickly.

You were sprawled beneath him, biting your lower lip and moaning with every stroke of his cock against your walls, his body completely draped over yours so with every roll of his hips, his pelvis stimulated your clit. When he started to fuck you harder, repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, you were crying out in pleasure, already feeling close to another orgasm.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, y'know that? I'm never gonna get enough of this, gonna want to fuck you all the time, 'm never gonna think of anything else." His forehead was resting on your shoulder, one of his hands on your stomach as his other held him up on the bed, "I want you to be mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kiss, mine every minute of the day. God, I want everyone to know, sweetheart, want them to know you're James' girl."

You were moaning with every word, nodding along, whining when his hand drifted lower, his thumb hovering over your clit, but staying completely still, teasing you.

Your heart was so full, just like your cunt, and you hoped to god he'd follow through on his promises, you needed to be his, just as much as you needed him to be yours.

"James, please." You begged, arching your back into him, and he lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you, smiling with a shake of his head.

"You beg real pretty, doll, but you can do better than that. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

Your eyes practically rolled back, fuck, you loved hearing him talk like this, "I want to cum, please."

He nodded, leaning in close to you, "You want to cum? I'll let you cum, princess."

He began to rub your clit in steady circles, keeping up a steady rhythm that dragged you so close to release.

"C'mon, come for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered shut as your orgasm rushed over you, and you gripped Bucky's hair tighter, your cunt clenching around him sending him head first into his own orgasm, his hips stuttering against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his seed.

His forehead was pressed to yours, both of you slowly coming down from your high, and Bucky waited till you'd caught your breath to lean down and kiss you, slower this time, savouring the taste of you as best he could.

You kissed him back eagerly, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you and making you clench down on him, still inside of you. Bucky groaned into your mouth, before he hesitantly broke the kiss, and leaned back to slide out of you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, such a fucking mess we made." He breathed roughly, glancing down between your legs, watching his cum seep out of you, so turned on by the filthy sight, before looking up at you again, tracing his eyes up your body, completely bared to him. He took in every detail, and smiled at your flushed cheeks, "You're so fucking beautiful."

You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you wrapped your legs around him and reached out, pulling him back down to you to nudge your nose against his, watching the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled, "So are you."

He huffed a laugh and kissed you, before burying his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and holding you as close to him as possible, practically laying completely on top of you, though he held most of his own weight. As much as you would completely, happily welcome the weight of him on top of you, you also know that breathing is kind of a necessary thing to survive... sadly.

"We need to shower." He murmured against your skin, rubbing his stubbly jaw against your shoulder.

You hummed and nodded, raking your nails across the surface of his back.

"We should probably talk too." He followed, keeping his face hidden from your sight.

"We should, but I don't think there's much to talk about that we haven't already. We both want each other, and not just physically."

He lifted his head and gazed down at you, his expression vulnerable, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him, even with him naked above you, "So... like lovers?"

You smiled at the old-fashioned term, much preferring it to boyfriend and girlfriend, and you nodded, gently brushing hair from his face, "I'd love that, Buck, if you want that too?"

"Yes, I want that, so much."

"Good, let's make it official then."

He nodded smiling down at you, before he stood from the bed, and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the hotel en-suite like he had carried you to the bed earlier.

"You're my girl now, sweetheart." He whispered to your ear, loving the way it sounded on his lips.

"And you're my guy." You replied, kissing his nose.

"Sure am." He smiled proudly, setting you down on the bathroom sink as he turned the shower on, before he turned back to you, leaning on his hands, which rested either side of you, "I will be taking you out on a date when we get back, just so you know."

"I can't wait, baby."

6K notes · View notes

smallmarvel · 10 months

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me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

54K notes · View notes

smallmarvel · 10 months

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For Science

A/N: My second fic in less than a month, I am proud of my achievement. I'll be honest, there were times when I thought this fic was turning into a big pile of disgusting garbage and almost gave up on it a couple of times. But alas, I persevered and I think sometimes I have to trust the process, or in my case the chaotic horny mess that is my brain. Again, English is not my first language so if you see any mistakes, please be patient and kind, I can only wish to improve. Please enjoy!! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: SMUT (Obviously). Soft!Loki, Sex pollen trope, oral, penetration…just your regular filthy smut fic with a hint of plot. Avengers IW never happened. Words: 6.8k.

When you started working at the Avengers compound you could never have guessed what your life there would be like. And indeed every day was a surprise. You were hired as part of the medical staff after Tony read your thesis about modern medicine applied to metahumans. From day one you have been part of Dr. Banner's team and you were over the moon. Your work consisted in finding new ways of healing wounds inflicted by non-conventional weapons on enhanced humans. It was a challenging job that kept you on your feet and you loved it. And being so close to the almighty heroes almost made you feel one as well. One could dream.

In the span of a month you met most of the Avengers. They were nice and always grateful of your assistance. Captain America was polite and stoic, trying to be helpful in any way he could. Peter Parker always stammered and fidgeted while you looked at his wounds, something you found endearing. Bucky Burnes flirted with everyone. The Falcon told terrible jokes that made you cry from laughter and Thor was so gallant in an old-fashion way that you almost felt as a maiden healing a White Knight.

And then there was Loki.

The first time you met the Asgardian prince you felt intimidated. Even though you already met the great earth protectors, Loki was something else.

He was tall. But that was not it. Thor was a big guy, for sure, but there was something about Loki that made you feel small. Maybe it was his gaze, cold and curious. Maybe how long and lean his limbs were. Maybe it was the asgardian outfit that made him look so regal. Maybe that voice, deep and seductive that made your knees quiver. Not that he talked much, he mostly kept to himself and never stayed in the lab much. Something about being a magical entity from another planet; he never got badly injured and was in and out without much fuss. And he really seemed to dislike you in some way, because when you tried to patch his wounds he always looked bothered. When you tried to get a closer look to one of his cuts, he always backed up uncomfortable. You tried to make conversation, to make things less awkward, but he merely responded with monosyllables and walked away as fast as he could.

He was a creature of mystery and he certainly intrigued you. You made your utmost effort to make Loki open a little bit. But he was incredibly guarded.

So when you arrived first thing in the morning to the medical floor and found Loki there, to say you were shocked was the understatement of the century. He was leaning against one of the shelves, hands in his pockets and tapping his feet as if he was growing impatient. When he looked up and found you there, you saw something even more shocking.

He smiled at you.

-Hello- You said tentatively, as if you weren't sure he was standing there, in the middle of the lab. More specifically, in your side of the lab. -Hello… Dr y/n l/n Right? - He bowed his head almost imperceptibly as he kept smiling at you. A small, soft smile that you'd have never expected coming from him.

-Call me y/n, please. Besides, it's not like we are strangers. - You were sure to see a slight hint of a blush on his cheeks before turning away from you, looking at some of the papers you had on your desk. -Yes, well… we were never properly introduced and it never seemed like the right moment when you were working. - He fidgeted with the documents and tossed them back against the cold surface of your desk.

-Well then, nice to meet you again Loki. - You realized that it was your first time adressing him in a first name basis. He turned around and looked at you lost for words, but he regained his composure in a blink of an eye.

-Bruce was talking the other day on the jet about some of your research, about new methods of healing metahumans. I thought then that I could be of assistance.

This was by far the first time you've heard Loki talk that much to anyone. He usually looked at you in what seemed annoyance. So now you were lost for a moment in what was happening. The God of Mischief talking to you? Offering help? Were you high on something?.

You looked at the cup of coffee in your hand, as it contained all those answers, then back at him in what you were sure was the most skeptical glare you've ever given to anyone. Ever. Loki's little smile faded and he tilted his head, as if he was trying to convey that it was your turn to talk. After a silence that lasted two seconds too long you snapped out of your musings.

-Em… Sure. How exactly? - You walked towards him and again, you felt a little out of place. At your own lab. What was about his presence that was so menacing and enticing at the same time?.

-While Thor trained with my father, I spent most of the time learning from my mother. Magic, enchantments… but also different ways of healing different ailments. Botany, herbalism, potions… You name it, I've studied it. I think I could make myself useful to you.- There was pride in his tone, boast… But also joy and endearment in that memory.

-Why are you offering your help? -That might have sounded a bit severe because that little smile that you were starting to like, really like, disappeared from his features and he looked down, all that confidence he exuded evaporating in less than a second. -I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh. Is just that your offer first thing in the morning was the last thing I expected for today. Or ever. -As he sensed humor in your voice he straightened up, a little less confident this time.

-My brother and I had a talk… he advised me to present myself to be more useful for the team. -That sounded very noble and you didn't notice any trace of sarcasm in his words. But you had the feeling that that was a half-truth at best. But he was offering thousands of years of otherworldly advice and who was the idiot to refuse that kind of knowledge?

Turns out you were the idiot. The biggest idiot in the galaxy.

Loki's help turned out to be extremely valuable. He really had knowledge not only about earth modern medicine or Asgard medicine, but all you could ever imagine and more. And he really seemed eager to be in the lab and help.

It started with some briefings about your research, and Loki was blithely filling some of the blanks. His explanations were educational and very entertaining. It totally re-shaped some of your theories and you were really grateful for all the input he was sharing with you. After a couple of days you told him that you had enough information and that you didn't want to waste more of his time, but he then had the brilliant idea of retrieving samples of medicinal plants and other biological material that could help from missions and some of his travels. And by the second week you found yourself in a unique routine with Loki: Early in the morning, most of the time a bit before your shift started, Loki was already in the lab next to your desk coffee in hand. How did he know how you liked your coffee you never dared to ask. At first you just had to repress your laugh because it was so funny to see the very important royal prince of Asgard in just casual attire and a lab coat. Or it would have been funny if he didn't look so cute in it.

The white coat really suited his tall frame. There were times were concentrating was a hard task in itself because, how dare he look so good? That would not matter if it wasn't for the fact that you just discovered that you had a thing for big, strong, elegant hands like the ones Loki brushed constantly against your arm every time he wanted to show you something. Or how he sometimes leaned in a little too close to say something to your ear and that voice, that accent made you almost purr.

All of this would definitely be funny, but it really, really wasn't. Because turns out the taciturn, arrogant and secretive prince you met weeks ago was a sweet, charming, a little bit too cocky and extremely attractive man you enjoyed way too much working with.

As the weeks went on the pattern continued: he would explain how the last mission went, some of the details you could need and then you two would spend most of the day examining samples under the microscope or running some simulations on the computer. Loki would always stay near, which was reasonable because you spend all this time sharing information and hypothesis. But sometimes you feared it was too near, especially after a long day where you would be tired and the temptation to lean in and get lost in how well he smelled was getting out of your control. By the end of the fourth week you were finishing your days with cold showers and it was starting to become embarrassing. You just wish Loki didn't notice anything.

Because boy you had it bad.

The next week started with the Avengers going to some remote location to fight a small army of very dangerous aliens. So you knew you'd spend the day alone and you felt relief, because any day now you were sure you'll combust at his mere presence and today at least you were going to be able to work unbothered. But on the other hand, you missed him because you really enjoyed his sense of humor, or how he looked at you, eyes full of wonder, as you tried to explain something you had realized that day.

Again, you had it really, really bad.

Good thing you loved your work and the high-tech lab Stark provided. You spent the day taking test after test, which usually kept your mind focused. Before you could finish the last one of the day it was already dark outside and you planned to end your shift soon.

As you were writing down the lasts results and making some notes, Thor stormed in the lab making you jump out of your chair. He seemed out of breath, something you deemed impossible for the God of Thunder, and before you could ask what he was doing there he was grabbing you by the shoulders telling you that Loki was extremely ill and in need of your assistance.

-Thor, calm down. What happened? - He was scaring you looking so worried, grasping at your lab coat a bit too hard. -Loki was explaining that he knew about a very exotic medicinal flower he insisted you could use for your research. We found a big field full of them and as he was about to grab some there was an explosion. -Oh God, is he ok? Is he bleeding?- Millions of scenarios flooded your mind as you felt a heaviness forming on your chest. -The explosion is not the issue. It nocked him out momentarily, but he was fine. The blast destroyed most of the flower field and there was pollen everywhere. Loki was covered head to toe and he seemed to react badly to it. -Thor you're scaring me. An allergic reaction? Is that it? I'm sure a strong asgardian god as your brother can overcome something that benign.- You exhaled in relief. Loki was alive. He only needed antihistamine, at most.

Or so you thought.

Thor insisted he needed your help and led you to the other wing on the medical floor. You were taken aback when you noticed Thor was leading you passed the main hall and took you to the isolation rooms, where quarantines were conducted. The rooms were all white, with one of the walls clear so you could see the inside without stepping in. There, you found Loki sitting on the bed as you've never seen him. Disheveled, his alabaster skin blushing red and looking damp. His always pristine asgardian suit was wrinkled and the top completely opened, showing his chest and abs glistening with sweat. He looked feverish and you started to worry as he looked at you and panic took over his features.

-Thor, what is she doing here!? - Was he mad? You came here to help. You were dragged here to help. -I was told you needed my help. That you had a terrible allergic reaction? - If looks could kill Thor would have been exterminated in a blast of fury. Loki stood up and walk across the room. He then hit his fist against the translucent wall, making you take a step back. Thanks for Stark and his technology that could stand the rage of an alien God. -I told you I didn't want her here. Get. Her. OUT. NOW.- Now you knew something was wrong. You've never seen Loki so angry. So out of his mind.

And so afraid.

-Ok. What is happening here. What is that no one is telling me?.- You were looking at the both of them. Thor was chewing his lower lip as he tried to prevent something coming out of his mouth and Loki looked like he was planning both of your murders. -The reaction Loki is having… in not a common allergic reaction.- Thor was whispering at you, as if Loki wasn't clearly able to hear the both of you. -Thor shut up.- Loki kept pacing the room like a predator in a cage.

-Loki she could help you, you know what could happen if you don't… -Thor sounded worried as he tried to appeal to his brother. Your head was spinning with their interaction and the hundreds of scenarios. Was Loki poisoned in some way? Was it a biological weapon in disguise that attacked him? -I'd rather die than get help FROM HER.- And that made your racing mind go blank.

All this time spending time together, falling for his smiles, his light touches and the way his musical voice asked for your advice… And now the only thing he seemed to want was to get rid of you, as if your presence caused him disgust. He kept avoiding your eyes and after that outburst, he walked back to the bed, sitting with his hands covering his face.

You started to walk out back to the hall, but you didn't get far before Thor caught up with you and grabbed your arm.

-He really needs your help y/n.- Thor implored you as you tried to walk pass him. -He doesn't think the same Thor, and his botanical knowledge is vast. I'll bring Dr. Banner and the technicians to run tests on him. I'm sure he'll be fine.- As you tried to walk away, Thor stood in your way. -I know what kind of plant Loki was looking at. Is a common flower in Asgard an Norns knows how it got here on earth. -You could have started there! We could draw some blood and try to synthesize an antidote or… -But from Thor expression you knew that something was amiss. -Thor, please. What are you not telling me? -The flower in question is called Pāravaśyam. In small doses, it helps increase blood flow, which helps in some healing processes. It also can help steady heart rate. But… -…But Loki didn't get a small dose. -No, he didn't. The dose he absorbed was extremely high, and the effects are dangerous if not taken the correct course.

-In that amount, what would happen to him?

-In big doses Pāravaśyam is used as an… how you call it here on earth… Viagra?

-Beg your pardon?- Sure you didn't hear him right. Besides Thor was so new to Earth sure he was confused. In no way he meant…

-Viagra? The blue pills that get manhoods engorged and full of lust for hours?- Ok. Wow. You had so many questions. First, how on earth did Thor know so much about Viagra? But second, and most importantly… All of this was because Loki was, for a lack of a better term… horny? -Are you telling me that Loki is… -Engorged and full of lust? Yes. -I don't know if asgardians know about this, but here on earth we do a thing called "masturbation". Maybe I should bring a book full of instructions for your brother.- You really tried your best not to laugh. But then you thought about Thor's fearful expression and Loki's reaction after he saw you. And by Thor's unamused reaction you knew there was something else. -Y/n I'm afraid that won't suffice. Some asgardians plants have some sort of magic in them, and Pāravaśyam is no exception. Sexual release might relieve the symptoms, but the only thing that can cure the… condition is to breed with a beloved person.

After that you went silent. Your head full of white noise. Thor looked at you as he expected some kind of reaction, but you didn't know what to think. You tried to push the images the word "breed" elicited to your mind. Loki was nice to you, he saw you as a colleague, as a lab partner. But did he care about you? In any sense that matter?

-Thor, Loki is only helping me with research.- Your voice was so small, like you were talking only to yourself. -You mortals can be as thick as a Kronan. Why do you think Loki asked to help you in the lab?- Thor looked exasperated now, like this conversation was taking a toll on him. -You asked him to. -Thor's chuckle was not completely humorless, but it didn't reach his eyes as his laugh usually did. -¿So that's what he told you huh?. Please y/n. Just go and try to talk to him. His condition will only get worse and it could be fatal. If it's not you, somebody has to help him.

"Help him". That's a way to put it.

With that, Thor walked away, leaving you with so many thoughts and so many questions. You looked back, and in what you perceived as slow motion you went back to Loki's room.

He was still sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees and head down his hands. You saw his shoulders twitch and you knew he was aware of your presence. But he kept his head down.

-I told you to leave.- Her voice was low and threatening, catching you off guard for a second. -Thor told me about the flower. About the pollen.- You started to close your distance, closing the space between you and the clear wall of Loki's room. -Thor doesn't know what he is talking about. -Well, he told me about your… your situation.

Thor words echoed in your head: "Engorged and full of lust". You closed your eyes as if it could erase the painfully explicit image that formed in your mind. Damn the God of Thunder.

Your hand instinctively reached to touch the wall, as if somewhat you could appease Loki through the thick crystal. Lokis hands gripped the mattress as if the gesture pained him.

-Please, don't come any closer. -He still didn't look up, and you could see now up close that his hands were trembling. -Loki I just want to help. Thor asked me to help you. - The palm of your hand touched the cold surface, and Loki finally looked at you.

His jaw clenched, forehead full of droplets of sweat. His shoulders were up to his ears and his knuckles white gripping the sheets with so much force it was a miracle they hadn't shredded. His pupils were almost completely blown out, barely showing the blue in his eyes. If you could decipher the way he looked at you it would be with hunger. So much hunger.

-I said, don't come any closer. I…I can feel you through the wall. Please y/n… leave. -Why did you offer to help me in the lab? - Loki blinked several times, taken aback by your question. Lips pressed together, it doesn't take long before his eyes dart to the floor again. He realized that you have talked to Thor, and norns only knew what he had told you. -I told you about that my knowledge… that I wanted… -Loki stammered, unable to read your expression because he could only think of one thing.

And is all the things he wants to do to you.

-Thor didn't ask you to, did he?. - Looking at him, seeing Thor's reaction earlier, remembering the first time you saw Loki in the lab… You knew in that moment that Loki's motivation to help you wasn't the selfless reasoning he gave you that first day. You just saw that so clearly now. -I wanted to help you.- His hands stopped grabbing the fabric to end again covering his face. And that bothered you so much because all you wanted was to see his reaction. To see what he was feeling.

To see him look at you with so much desire again.

-Why did you tell me that the first day? Why lie?. -You would have asked about my reasons. And lying was the preferable option. -Loki, what was the reason… -Because I wanted to spend time with you. Because every time I ended in your table examining my injuries, asking me questions all I could think about was how soft and small your hands were, and how good it would feel having them all over me. How sweet your voice sounded or how you always smelled like orange blossom and that drove me insane. So I offered you my help under false pretense. I thought spending time with you would alleviate my infatuation, but I was so wrong. The way you smiled when you explained some detail about your work, or how you bit your lip when you were frustrated. It was the most delicious, beautiful torture I've ever endured in my long life.- He looked up, his pained expression, making a knot in the pit of your stomach. -This is humiliating. This is not how you were supposed to find out. I wanted to ask you out, court you properly… and now… please y/n. Just leave.

And there you were, all this time thinking you were alone in your feelings. You felt elated to know Loki felt this way about you, but you knew that this confession, it was all wrong. He didn't want you to know about this. He felt exposed and vulnerable. He wasn't himself, he was under the influence of some cosmic toxin and he was suffering. And you didn't know how you could, or if you could. But you really wanted to offer some comfort.

So you walked towards the door, slowly turning the knob.

When you entered the room the first thing to hit you was the smell. It smelled like Loki: fresh peppermint, sweet spices and leather… but so much more intense. It was intoxicating. You felt the immediate need to press your thighs together, but you ignored it. Loki jumped out of the bed, walking backwards until his body was pressed against the furthest wall from you. He kept his hands in his back, as if he was afraid he could reach you from there. His breathing turned more elaborate and all you wanted was to end his misery.

-Y/n, please just… - He looks so concerned, so contrite.

Is he afraid of you… or for you?

You stepped closer, slowly. You knew what he needed. And your body ached to touch him, to hug him, to make him feel better. You feared that your intentions weren't selfless, you have been attracted to him for weeks and now he needed you, your body, and even though you saw him at the brink of hyperventilation, trying his best to remain in control… you just wanted him. You craved for him. Knowing that you were the only cure, for him to consume you, to satiate his lust for you was making your core ache.

-Please y/n, don't come any closer. I…I can smell your skin, I can almost taste it from here. I don't know what is going to happen if you touch me. I don't want to hurt you. I… -But his voice died in his throat as you cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb feeling the soft skin under his eye. -You won't hurt me. Let me help you Loki.

Your voice was merely a whisper as you close the distance, pressing your chest against his. You felt his erection against your belly, his length pulsating against you even through all the layers of clothing. You stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his, barely touching them. You were waiting for his reaction, for him to push you away.

But in a swift movement your back was against the wall and Loki was pining your wrists above your head. Before you could wrap your head about what just happened his mouth was on yours kissing you hard, his tongue demanding and his teeth pulling your lower lip making you gasp. His mouth was divine, his tongue moving expertly like he could not get enough of your taste. Before you could catch your breath, his hand found the hem of your t-shirt. It rested flat against your stomach and stayed there, his fingers flexing slightly. His lips started a trail its way from your mouth to your ear. He then sucked, hard, against the skin below. His breath was hot and you could hear a lump in his throat, his voice struggling to come out.

-Y/N… tell me you are sure. Tell me you want this… because I'm afraid I won't be able to stop If I keep touching you like this.- His voice was so soft but so full with need it made your core clench, feeling empty and desperate. Even in his state he still cared about you, enough to make you feel safe. He still needed your consent. He needed to know you wanted this. Him.

That somehow made you dizzy with desire.

-Yes, Loki. Take me… please.

With that you kissed him again, relishing on how soft his lips were, on how good he tasted. His hands went up under your shirt grabbing your breast firmly, wasting no time in pulling down your bra and palming them until your nipples were hard. Your head was spinning feeling his body so pressed to yours, his touch everywhere and his mouth relentless. His lips travelled from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting so hard that you were sure he was leaving all kinds of marks on your sensitive skin.

Once his mouth found the collar of your t-shirt, his hands ripped it in half in one swift movement, exposing the warm skin of your chest to the cold air of the room. He then buried his face against your breast, his tongue tasting your skin. You arched your back trying to feel more of him and he took the opportunity for his hands to find the hook of your bra and tearing it off. He started to lick long and slow strokes, first one breast and then the other over and over again. His tongue was adamant against your nipples, swirling and lapping every inch of you, making you roll your eyes back as pleasure invaded your senses. His hands descended to your waist, pinning you in place as you felt his body descend and falling to his knees.

Loki was on his knees, in front of you. That was a sight you'd treasure forever.

His hands were gripping your waist before his fingers found the button of your jeans. Without taking his eyes from you he undid your button and you heard the metallic clicking of the zipper. His mouth was on your navel, nibbling his way to your exposed hip bone while his hands tore off your trousers and the rest of your underwear, discarding them with the rest of your now destroyed outfit. You felt his gaze roaming all over your exposed body, taking you in, and you started to feel a little bit self-conscious, your hands instinctively trying to cover yourself before Loki stopped them.

-You are so fucking beautiful. - His eyes never left yours, his face so closed you could feel his breath against your belly button. -Your mind is full of toxins and I'm pretty sure your judgment is clouded.- How did you manage to speak a full sentence in that moment was a mystery, You guessed the logical part of your brain never slept. -I always thought you were stunning. So alluring and so sweet… And I always wondered if you tasted as sweet as you looked.

And without any warning his hands grabbed your hips and his mouth was on you. His lips parted your folds and his tongue started lapping fervently, flattened tasting everything in its path. You felt your knees quivering on the verge of giving up as your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Lucky for you Loki had superhuman strength and had you pinned to the wall keeping you at place. His tongue swirled rapidly around your clit and that feeling followed by the wet and obscene sounds he was making while eating you, were making your head spin and your hands grabbed his head for support. The moment his mouth started sucking, his tongued never leaving your clit, you felt the familiar knot forming inside you tensing fast. You were a panting mess, and every flick of Loki's expert tongue getting you closer to your release.

The moment his lips sucked hard on your swollen clit your body snapped, shaking uncontrollably, your orgasm so intense that you could only feel your core clenching, asking for more as the wave of pleasure travelled through your body like fire kissing your skin. And it lasted so long, too long, because Loki refused to stop his movements. Even when the sensation verged on overstimulation. Your mind went blank for one second, eyelids still full of fireworks when you felt your feet not touching the floor anymore, and your body being moved carefully.

You were still trying to steady your breathing when you felt your back touch something soft. When you opened your eyes you saw Loki, taking off his clothing harshly, almost ripping it off his skin before joining you in the bed. He positioned himself above you, his hands partying your legs, kneeling before you. That's when your eyes found his cock, big and dripping with precum. His head was dark pink and looked smooth to the touch. Your hand thought so too because it wasted no time in grabbing him and feeling it pulsate against your hand. The moan that escaped his throat was obscene and went directly to the apex of your thighs making you even more soaked.

Before you could move your hand so he'd make that sound again, he grabbed it and kissed your palm. You were almost sure you felt his smile against your skin before he lowered himself and kissed you, his lips devouring yours as you still tasted yourself on his tongue. You were giddy with lust, craving to feel his cock buried deep inside you. His tip found your wet lips and you whined, longing to feel more of him. He stopped kissing you and you felt his mouth descend to your shoulder, peppering kisses everywhere in its path. Your hands started to caress his back and that's when you noticed he was trembling. His whole body was shaking.

Loki was holding back.

-Loki… -You felt him tensing at the sound of your voice, his cock twitching against you. His face still hidden in your neck. -Tell me this is ok y/n. Please… tell me you want to be mine.- His voice was merely a whisper struggling to come out and your heart expanded almost bursting your chest. Even in his state, even after devouring you five minutes ago and giving you a Richter's scale 10 orgasm, he was pleading you, still needing to make sure you were ok.

You took his face between your hands and looked at him. His eyebrows were almost touching, knotted with worry and his eyes glistening. He was in agony, so close to you and yet not allowing himself to lose control.

-Y/n… please- His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.. You could hear him all day calling your name like that. But today was not that day. -Yes, Loki… I'm yours.

He positioned himself and started entering you, inch by inch, streaching you like you've never been before in an agonizing slow pace until he was buried inside you. You cried at the sensation, overwhelming and intense as he made you feel completely full. The pleasure was mixed with a little pain and you were gasping, trying to take everything he was giving you. His forehead was against your shoulder, as if he was trying to hide his pleasure from you. Both of you remained still, Loki trying really hard to give you time. By the way he was breathing you were sure he was at the brink of snapping and fucking you with his full force. Your cunt was gripping him hard and as the pain subsided your hips started moving of their own volition.

-Fuck y/n.. you are so tight… I can't…

With that he started moving. He proceeded to remove himself entirely to rapidly thrust inside you hard. At first his rhythm was languid, relishing on the raw sensation of his member teasing your narrow slit, entering you slowly making you whimper. But his need for you was getting more desperate, the overwhealming feeling of your naked form pressed against him, your hands gripping his shoulders, your moans filling his ears, it was all too much. And by the sounds he was making, and how he whispered your name like a prayer against your neck, you knew he needed release. Gripping your knees, he opened your legs completely wide and started pounding deeper, frantically, reaching a spot inside you that made your head spin. You felt the familiar coil in your lower belly building again fast. Your hips started rolling against his, looking for even more friction, to reach your release that was burning your nerves in the most exquisite and tortuous way. You felt his cock twitching and you knew he was close too.

-Y/n… I'm not gonna last, I need you to come now- He was struggling to talk, plunging into you with so much force you could hardly realize what he was telling you. One of his hands reached down, barely rubbing your clit, once, twice before making you scream his name. -Loki I'm coming, ImcommingImcommingImcommingImcomming… GOD!

Your back arched as you felt your body combust. Your core was clenching hard in your release, making Loki come hard, thrusting into you mercilessly prolonging your orgasm. You felt him spilling inside you while he kept moving in long strokes without slowing down. That brought another devastating wave of pleasure that ripped you apart. You felt all the nerves in your body going on overdrive. And then your brain was suddenly filled with white noise.

When you returned to earth the first thing you noticed was that Loki was heavy. Not that you were complaining, his weight covering you was something you found comforting. His forehead pressed against your collarbone, you noticed his breathing going back to normal. You felt lightheaded and in a weird state of bliss. Both of you were silent, recovering your breaths and you found yourself starting to worry. Now that he got the toxin out of his system, would he regret it? What if he thought you took advantage of his vulnerable situation? All the things he said before… was that the pollen? Was it him? Both?

-I can hear you thinking from here. - At some point between your musings he lifted his head so he could look at you. His eyes drifted to your mouth and his finger brushed the lower lip that you unconsciously were biting.

And then the silence crept again. He was looking for you, waiting for you to say something. Were you supposed to say something? What was supposed to be said in this situation? You've never had life or death poisonous flower induced sex before.

-Did I hurt you? - His eyes were darting across your features, as if he could fathom what were you feeling.

You shook your head, your voiced trapped in your throat. He looked at you, sadness covering his features and you started to panic.

-You regret it, is that it? - It was more an affirmation than a question, and you felt his body trying to move away from you. Now that you have discovered how amazing his body felt pressed to yours, how amazing he smelled even after all the sweating and… No. You were not having any of that.

So before he could move you wrapped your legs around his hips. A long sigh escaped his lips as his eyes were again on you.

-I don't regret it Loki… it's just… -He looked somewhat confused and hopeful while you searched for the right words. How he could look so adorable after fucking you senseless was a gift from the ancient Gods of Asgard, you were sure of it. -What? You didn't like it?

That took you by surprised and you supressed a laugh. "Like it" could not cover the mind-blowing ecstasy he had given you. You took a long breath, trying to gather your thoughts. He needed answers. You needed answers. And it was truly distracting how beautiful he looked, head against your chest with big blue puppy eyes.

-I think I was quite clear in showing how much I was enjoying myself-His chuckle vibrated through your chest and you smiled, because how dare he doubt anything after what he did to you. -So what is it then? -Well… lets say this is not how I pictured our first kiss to be like. Or the first time we slept together. Or our first anything really. If anyone this morning would have told me that by the end of the day I'll be having crazy-monkey-flower-induced sex with you in one of the isolation chambers I would have called security.

His whole body relaxed against you as he propped himself with his elbows, hovering over you, noses brushing and you could see his smile wide and with a hint of mischief.

-Oh, but you have pictured me seducing you? - It was impossible not to blush as he smirked at you playfully. -Erm…

You turned your head, unable to meet his gaze, feeling a rush of shyness. One thing was being fucked into oblivion to safe his life, and the other was to confess that you have been harboring feelings for him for weeks, daydreaming about his small smiles and light touches. He grabbed your chin making you face him again, his thumb brushing under your jaw.

-I imagined fucking you on your desk every day for the last two weeks. I was hoping to ask you on a date after we arrived from our mission. But then… -His thumb released your lower lip again from your teeth and you smiled at him.

So at the end you both were idiots falling for the other. For weeks.

-Was it as good as you imagined? - Your arms embraced him, a wide smile spreading across your face. It was weird how much you were enjoying this new intimacy. -So, so much better. - This time he kissed you gently, taking his time as his fingers brushed against your cheeks. -Would you allow me to court you properly?- You sighed blissfully. Who would have thought that the God of Mischief was so soft. -I'd love to. But I'm afraid that we can't keep working together. -Why is that? - His eyebrows almost touched his hairline as he looked at you confused. -Well…for starts, I could never concentrate working on my desk next to you ever again.

And with a big smile he kissed you again.

-----------------------------

People asked me to tag them WHAT: @andromedaa-tonks @donaweasley @mochie85 @sarahscribbles

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smallmarvel · 10 months

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a Miles for a friend

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smallmarvel · 10 months

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Ok so I just read your “Bad Idea” smut and it was amazing! Can you do one where the roles are reversed? Like y/n has the sex pollen infect her?

combining with request #2: Hey 🧍🏻‍♀️ this is my first time ever requesting smut so- I feel super awkward 😅, I was wondering if you could write Pietro maximoff eating (fem?) reader out on a couch (or gn reader, anything you want :)

a week’s isolation - p.m.

pairing: pietro maximoff x fem! reader

summary: the strange plant thor brought to earth from asgard is housed in the lab on the upmost floor of the compound, it’s pollen safely contained; your room, however, is right below it. too bad they forgot to seal the vents.

word count: 3,878

tw: smut smut smut. oral (f receiving). apologizing in advance. both parties are 18+ and consenting adults!!!!

a/n: takes place in between the age of ultron/civil war era. pietro and wanda are adults but still young! i haven’t written smut in such a long time so forgive me for the long time it took to get this posted. i get embarrassed when writing shit like this so it takes me twice as long since after every word i have to close my computer and take a lap around my room. hope u enjoy :)

“DOES EVERYONE UNDERSTAND?” FINISHED BANNER as he stood before the team, his face flushed and his eyes wide. Pietro had been half-listening for the first portion of the man’s speech, but at the sound of the words “highly dangerous” and “do not go near it”, his interest had been inevitably piqued.

Pietro fiddled with the string bracelet on his wrist, eyes drifting across the long, meeting table. You were sat next to the head of the table, hair daintily curved along the edges of your face, hands folded on the edge of the table, lips pressed together in thought. He blinked before he could get too lost in you; it had happened before and he didn’t feel like getting caught staring again.

A chorus of yes’s and head nods washed over the team, followed by a short moment of awkward silence as they individually considered the strangeness of the situation that was now in their midst. Pietro sent a tired glance to Wanda, who rolled her eyes and mouthed Pay attention!

“I need you all to seriously recognize the dangers this plant might cause,” Banner went on after the group gave their half-assed acknowledgements of their understanding. “Thor brought this here on accident, and it is only he and other Asgardians that are immune to it. We’re only trying to find a proper, safe way of disposing it, maybe even using a way to harness it’s pollen without... well, killing ourselves.”

“Why can’t Thor just bring it back up to Asgard?” Barton asked, scratching his chin. Shifting in his chair, he said, “I feel like that should be discussed.”

“The issue with that, Barton, is that it’s pollen has already begun to cling onto other things. Our plants, here on Earth, need some kind of vector to move their pollen from place to place, like insects or wind. On Asgard, or at least with this plant, it’s very different,” Banner explained. “The pollen acts almost like a virus, one that clings onto surfaces and grows. We don’t know how to kill this virus, so it’s harder to manage than normal pollen.”

Pietro watched you raise your hand; always so quiet, so polite, you were. It was endearing, he thought, watching you always behave so accordingly. The only time he ever saw you lose yourself was in the heat of a fight, when fists would fly and guns were drawn. It was a treat to see you in such a state, a rarity.

“Y/N? You have a question?”

“The pollen isn’t spreading into the compound, is it?” you asked carefully, something in your voice telling Pietro you were nervous. “Should I be worried?”

“No, we’ve done our very best to contain it,” Banner reassured you; Pietro watched your shoulders deflate. “As long as you all stay away from the lab, you’ll be just fine. And anyone who enters the lab will need to wear facial coverings. I’d even go as far as to say we should invest in more hazmat suits.”

“It’s not that extreme, is it?” Steve Rogers asked in disbelief. “I mean, hazmat suits? C’mon, Banner, what’s the big fuss?”

“The big fuss?” Banner gave a dry scoff. “The big fuss, Cap, is that if you’re exposed to the pollen, it’ll make your mind go into such a sex-driven frenzy that you’ll lose touch with goddamn reality! Do you want that? Because I seriously doubt you want that!”

A wave of silence washed over the room. Steve pressed his lips in a thin line, his nose dusted pink, and said nothing in response, only slowly shaking his head.

“We get it,” Natasha Romanoff spoke up after everyone spent a moment of clearing their throats and adjusting their chairs. “Stay away from big, scary plant.”

Bruce opened his mouth to keep going, but Tony Stark placed a hand on his shoulder.

“They get it,” Stark said. “We’ll change the password to the lab, anyways. J.A.R.V.I.S. will make sure no one goes in.”

All the members fizzled off, going their separate ways. Banner, Stark, and Thor ventured up towards the lab, the latter the only one not donned in a white hazmat suit. Wanda scooted her chair closer to yours, nudging your shoulder.

“Interesting, huh?” she commented. “Wonder what they do with them in Asgard.”

“S’probably like a drug,” Pietro chimed in, dragging his chair towards the two girls’ and sitting backwards on it, legs spread, hands dangling on the back of the chair. You crossed your legs, one folded gingerly over the other, the glossy black toe of your Mary Janes brushing his knee. “No doubt they get a shit ton of that pollen stuff and sell it.”

“I thought Asgardians were immune to it?” you said. Pietro paused.

“Well, maybe if they take a lot of it, it’s like that weird stuff you Americans have. Viagra. Helps it stay up, you know,” Pietro joked, to which Wanda whacked him on the shoulder. “What? Just a hypothesis.”

“Don’t be so crude,” Wanda chastised him. You giggled, the apples of your cheeks rose dusted. Pietro’s lips curled up at your reaction; you glanced over at him, matching his smile, before glancing back down at your lap. “Let’s just stay away from the lab for next few weeks or so. Play it safe.”

“I wanna see it,” Pietro ran a hand through the icy blonde tips of his hair. Your eyes widened a bit. “I’m curious now, y’know? I mean, what’s a sex plant supposed to even look like?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Pietro,” you told him carefully, the sound of his name rolling so easily off your tongue that he almost felt goosebumps trail up his forearms. He smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” he finished the quote for you, raising an eyebrow. Your lips twitched, shaking your head a bit and looking away from him. Wanda rolled her eyes, patting you twice on the knee before standing up, strawberry-blonde hair tucked behind her ears.

“I’m going to find Vis,” she announced, the leather of her red jacket swishing against her waist. “I’m tired of this plant talk.”

“Your loss,” Pietro called after her as she walked off. She turned around and stuck her tongue out childishly before lifting a single hand; with a swirl of red light, the door slammed shut behind her. Glancing back at you, Pietro grinned. “You can’t tell me you’re not just the tiniest bit curious.”

“Of course I’m curious,” you told him, leaning forward a bit in excitement as you shifted around; the scoop neck of your black tee sat low on your chest as you moved, and he fought to keep his sights on your eyes. “But, it’s not worth the risk. Not in my opinion, at least.”

“Yeah, well,” Pietro shrugged. “Maybe I’ll grab ahold of one of those hazmat suits and head in there myself. Just to take a look.”

You sent him a look and sighed, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Pietro gave a toothy grin. “Oh, Y/N. When have I ever been stupid?”

---

THE NEXT MORNING, PIETRO WAS bewildered to see you absent from the kitchen. Typically, you’d wake up way before he did, and he’d find you sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea or coffee and a book, silently reading. Vision sometimes would join you, or on certain days when Peter Parker would come round, Pietro would find you chatting away with him at the table. This specific morning, however, you were not there. Vision was sitting on his own, a copy of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden in front of him; a cold cup of coffee was sat in front of the empty chair.

“Buna dimineata,” Vision greeted in Sokovian, not looking up from his book. Pietro rubbed the sleep from his pale eyes and glanced at Y/N’s empty chair. “I presume you are curious as to where Y/N is.”

“Where is she?” Pietro asked, retying the white strings of his plaid blue and silver pajama pants. Vision glanced up at the cold cup of coffee, staring at it until it lifted into the air and carried itself towards the sink, dumping itself out and sitting on the chrome interior of the sink.

“I poured that for her, but she had yet to arrive,” Vision explained. Pietro furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest where the white tank top he wore to sleep was wrinkled up. “I sought for Captain Rogers and he revealed to me that she’s been quarantined to her room.”

“Quarantined?” Pietro repeated, the word sounding uncomfortable on his tongue. He cursed under his breath before tentatively asking, “What for?”

Vision closed Walden and set it down on the table, letting out a simple breath and shifting his eyes to meet Pietro’s.

“It seems that the laboratory and Y/N’s room share an air vent,” he said. Pietro said nothing, not following. Vision stood up, tucking the chair back under the table and holding Walden with one hand. “They sealed off that mysterious plant, however they seem to have forgotten the air vent underneath the desk it’s planted on. That air vent just so happened to empty into Y/N’s room.”

“The pollen,” Pietro pinched the bridge of his nose. “O, la naiba...”

“So it’s just wise, according to Banner, that she is confined to her room,” Vision gave Pietro look, bowing his head forward as though he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. “Which means you must leave her alone until she has recovered.”

Pietro let out a sigh before moving his eyes away from version, clenching his jaw and thinking; maybe there was a way he could get into your room without getting infected by the pollen himself, even if it was just to talk with you. The idea of you being all cooped up there by yourself made his heart clench, but he also couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the effects the pollen was having on you.

“Pietro,” Vision said, and Pietro met his eyes. “Do not try and see her. We don’t know how much pollen is still in that room.”

Pietro rolled his eyes and left the room, not letting Vision interrupt his brainstorming. Banner had been extreme in his warnings about the effects, but how sexually-frustrated could the damn thing make a person? Besides, you were tough. He was sure it wasn’t too bad.

And it wasn’t. But after a week, he started getting anxious. Your room was entirely off limits, the only people going in out being Banner, to asses the situation, and Steve Rogers, to talk to you. You had always been close with Rogers, however, Pietro wished Banner could lend him one of those masks so he could see you.

One evening, Pietro couldn’t sleep. The more he laid in bed, pale eyes staring blankly at the white ceiling, the more he thought about you, cooped up in your room and probably in an unimaginable amount of pain. It had been a week and change already, and this isolation was sure to be driving you mad. He swung his legs around so he was now sitting on the edge of his bed, and he paused.

Maybe this is a bad idea, he thought to himself as his legs carried him towards his door, Like, a really bad idea. He hand was still clasping over the doorknob and twisting, despite that little voice in the back of his head asking if this idea of his could potentially end badly.... or, he could end up helping you out. He couldn’t imagine being isolated for so long.

By the time he reached the outside of your bedroom, he paused, his knuckles hovering over the wood, hesitating to knock. He could hear you from outside, moaning and groaning in pain. His heart ached and he knocked.

The moaning stopped and Pietro gulped. “Hey, dragă...”

“Pietro?” you asked from inside. “You shouldn’t...” you paused, and he heard the sound of your bedsheets rustling. “You shouldn’t be near here...”

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to see you.”

“Banner says it might be contagious,” you replied sadly. He could hear you frown. “I don’t want you to catch it.”

“It’s been over a week,” Pietro rolled his eyes. “I doubt it’s still airborne. Most viruses don’t last in the air for that long.”

“I guess,” you fell silent. More rustling. Pietro sighed and put his hand over the door knob. Taking a deep breath, he twisting and opened it.

You were a sight to see, that’s for sure. Half your body was covered by the white comforter, and the parts of you that weren’t were clad in a small tank top and small pajama shorts. The ceiling fan was on top speed, and there were two other fans propped up in the room, each pointing towards the bed.

Your face was a bright red, same with your chest, and your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it out of your face. But your eyes, that had previously been half-lidded, widened considerably when you saw Pietro open the door before you threw the entire blanket over yourself.

“You can’t be in here!” you shrilled. “You’ll catch it!”

You felt a hand grasp onto the blanket, slowly pulling it down and off of you. Pietro, his hair tousled by his hand and his lips curved into a gentle smile, let out a small laugh.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m, like, superhuman. I think I’ll be okay. Let’s go get some water.”

You hesitated, letting him slide the blanket off you. You clenched your jaw, cheeks flushing scarlet as your eyes raked him up and down; he was clad in a thin white tank top that was maybe a size too small, and white-and-blue pajama pants that hung low on his waist. Taking a deep breath, you swung your legs over the bed and got to your feet.

You walked behind him, scared to get too close. Pietro could see your hesitation to the leave the room, as well as your hesitation to touch anything.

“C’mon, dragă,” Pietro laughed at you. “It’s okay. I feel fine. You’re not going to get me sick.”

“We don’t know that,” you took another heavy breath, keeping your eyes off of him. The flushing of your face made it hard to breathe and the twisting in your lower abdomen was making your head whirl. The muscles of his back flexing every five seconds as he reached up in the cabinets for a cup was not helping. You gulped. “I need to sit down...”

“All right,” Pietro glanced back at you, holding the two cups of ice water. “You okay?”

“None of the medicines work,” you mumbled, hesitantly taking the from him. He sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, staring at you. You felt your neck get hotter and glancing down at your lap. “I just gets worse.”

“What does?” Pietro asked curiously. “What’s the issue? Nauseous? Headache?”

“Erm,” you took a shaky breath and squeezed your legs together. “Hard to explain. The plant, the one from Asgard that did this... it’s... it’s kind of odd...”

Pietro raised a brow. You had a death grip on both your cup and the couch cushion. Face beet red, you took a sip from your trembling hand, avoiding his inquisitive stare.

“How so?” Pietro asked.

“I don’t really know,” you mumbled. “Banner said it’s got these, like... coitus pheromones? I don’t really know what that word means, but he refuses to elaborate.”

It was Pietro’s turn to feel his cheeks grow hot. The word was the same in Sokovian, and he knew it was a fancy term for sex, but he was shocked that you didn’t know. You were supposed to be the smart one.

“Y/N... you don’t remember what it means?” he asked carefully. You shook your head.

“Do you?” you asked, finally meeting his eyes for the first time in a few minutes. Pietro bit the inside of his cheek. No wonder you were gripping the couch like a lifeline. This whole time, he had assumed you were moaning and groaning because of pain. His chest felt hot. “What’s it mean?”

“It means sex, Y/N,” he told you slowly. “If Banner says it’s got “coitus pheromones”, that means it’s like... it really is like alien viagra. Like I had joked about before…”

He saw your eyes grow wide, your chest beginning to rise and fall with greater speed. You averted your eyes away from him in almost an instant, pressing your lips together in a thin line and shrinking back as though to pretend he were not there.

“Great,” you mumbled. Pietro shrugged.

“S’not like you didn’t know what it did,” he said honestly. “You’ve been feeling like this for more than a week, you’ve had to have some idea. Probably driving you up a wall, huh?”

You gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah.”

Pietro stared at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest. “I could help you. If you wanted me to.”

You gave him a very odd look, brows furrowing just a bit. The air felt warmer, as though someone had turned off the A/C. “What?”

“You heard me,” Pietro muttered, and now it was his turn to shrink back, his back hunching. “Only if you want...”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled. Pietro pursed his lips.

“You’re not,” Pietro said simply. “I’m asking you if you want me to help you.”

“I...” you bit the inside of your cheek, and he watched you take a deep, steady breath. “Of course I want you to.”

“Well...” Pietro trailed off, staring at you, awaiting your word. His knees were practically touching yours, the head radiating off of him making you grip the couch tighter.

“Well, what?” you asked. His hand left where it had previously rested on his lap and latched onto your knee, sliding upwards at a snail’s pace.

“Can I?” he asked softly. “Help you?”

You glanced down at where his hand rested on your thigh. Back up at his eyes. Jesus christ.

“Yes.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his lips twitch upwards, a half-smirk half-smile fighting to curl onto his face. You didn’t bother dwelling on it, though, considering you were too focused on the fact that his other hand was on your other thigh, his hands sliding up and down your leg leisurely before coming back down onto your knees.

He pushed your knees apart, his calloused fingers digging into your bare skin, pale blue eyes never leaving yours. You took another shaky breath, swallowing anxiously. He lowered himself off of the coffee table he had been sitting on, kneeling in between your knees. His fingers crawled up to the fabric of your pajama shorts, tugging on the hem.

“Y’know these gotta go, right?” he asked rhetorically.

“Mmhm,” you gulped and did nothing for a second, but as he continued to tug on them, you took the top elastic and pulled it down until it reached his hands. He did the rest of the work, discarding them beside where he knelt.

Your underwear was a light blue, which just so happened to be Pietro’s favorite color (this was a coincidence, you swear). He hummed in approval and spread your knees apart wider. His eyes darted down, spotting the darkened patch of fabric right over her sex. He gave a smirk and snapped his eyes back up to yours again.

Saying nothing, he brought his hand closer to you, running his index finger up and down the darkened fabric. You shuddered. He was barely putting pressure on you, but it seemed the pollen was making even the slightest touch feel a million times more intense than it was.

“These also have to go. As much as I like ‘em,” he said, tugging on the azure fabric of your panties. You felt yourself smile a bit.

“Okay,” you rolled your eyes, but grabbed the hem and pulled down down. Pietro grabbed them off of your ankles, and lifted them up in front of his eyes.

“Can I keep these?” he asked. You kicked him with your foot.

“Creep,” you said. He chuckled and put them on top fo your discarded pajama shorts. “Can you please just...”

“Just do what?”

You huffed and mumbled something unintelligible. He pressed his thumb to your clit rather harshly, moving in small, quick circles.

“What was that?” He asked as you gasped, hands grappling at the edge of the sofa. “What do you want?”

“Everything,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering. Pietro hummed.

“Well, I don’t have time to give you everything, but I can give you a... what do you call it? A taste?"

And then, before she could say anything more, he dove forward and pressed a kiss to your clit, eliciting another gasp from you. He skillfully traced his tongue up and down the length of your slit before returning to your clit, where he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You slithered a hand down to tangle in his hair, grasping at the white-blonde locks.

“Christ, Piet,” you breathed. You felt him smile before he lifted his mouth up for a second, licking his lips. Locking eyes with you, he brought himself back down to trace circles around your entrance with his tongue. Without a second to waste, he brought his hand up and plunged his index finger inside, pulling it out to only shove it back in over and over again.

Your head fell back onto the cushion of the couch, back arching, one hand grappling at the back of its foundations while the other grasped onto Pietro’s hair. Pietro’s eyes flickered back and forth between your half-lidded eyes and the finger that was moving in and out of you, and with a rush of adrenaline, he shoved his middle finger inside, too.

Curling his fingers, he brought his mouth to your clit. “Close, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” was all you could find words for, the combination between his fingers and his mouth making your vision go blurry and your mind go blank. “Uh-huh.”

“C’mon, dragă,” he coaxed, his words slightly muffled by his lips being pressed to your clit. “Give it to me.”

Back arching, the coil inside of your lower abdomen finally began to unravel at high speed, body spasming over his long fingers as pretty moans slipped from between your lips. Pietro was grinning as he sucked at your cunt, feeling your velvet walls tighten around his fingers as you orgasmed.

When the noises from you ceased, and your breathing began to slow, he pulled his fingers out and sat upright. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and just as they locked, he put his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. You shivered.

“Feel better?” he asked casually. You paused.

“Yeah,” you said in shock. “I actually do.”

“Told you,” he smirked. You smiled at him.

“Thanks.”

“Of course,” he replied, getting off his knees and sitting beside you, handing you your underwear and shorts. “Would’ve done it even without the pollen, y’know.”

“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow. He gave a firm nod. “I’ll have to take you up on that, then.”

translation:

“Buna dimineata.” - Good morning

“O, la naiba.” - Oh, damn it.

“Dragă.” - Darling, Sweetheart, Love

taglist:

@childishnewt @mcximffs @minbeatriz16 @slvtforfictionalcharacters @kaqua @thorrealgf @pagesbetweensheets @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @niallhoransupremacy @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777

a/n: this is painfully unedited im sorry.

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