Work Text:
There’s nothing here to catch me now
I’m gonna fall anyway
It’s just that kinda day
The first time it happens, you’re completely caught off guard.
It was around 3 in the morning when the door to your bedroom eases open slowly, the light from your living room spilling over the foot of your mattress.
Bleary eyed and half dead to the world, you merely brush it off thinking that perhaps the AC has blown the door open again. But then it clicks shut, followed by the sounds of heavy footfalls before a large figure has pulled your covers out enough to slide in beside you.
Your muscles tighten as an arm winds around your waist, ready to attack. Before you can move to retaliate, however, you become incredibly aware of the texture of the arm in question.
Cool, smooth, heavy.
Metal.
“Bucky?” You whisper into the darkness and flinch at the gravel of sleep still on your cords.
Your question is met with silence.
“Bucky.” You try again, turning in his arms - a task that proves harder than you anticipated. Any words that you may have uttered die on your tongue as you look at the man beside you.
His eyes are red-rimmed, framed by the dark circles that almost take over his face. His brow is heavily creased, the lines between and surrounding his eyes dark with sorrow. He looks older and thoroughly exhausted. Nothing like the Bucky you were used to in the day.
Without another word, you’re wrapping your arms around him, pulling him tightly to your breast. The rest of the night is spent in silence as Bucky slowly slips into a fitful sleep in your arms.
You might not know me good but you know me good enough
To make me okay, okay
Just close your eyes and put your lovin’ on me
A week goes by with the two of you barely speaking outside of your bedroom. Every night he slips in, each night opting to come in a little earlier than the night before. Every night he’s crawling into your covers, and into your embrace, his face freshly ravaged from the nightmares that plague him.
It gets easier as the nights progress. You pick up on his body language, figuring out what seems to help and what seems to make things worse. Your biggest tool is a gently, grazing touch. Without fail, any time you ghost your fingers over his knotted brow you watch in immense satisfaction as the worried lines disappear. He’s even picked up the habit of crawling under the covers, grabbing your fingers and placing them on his forehead as he settles in. Though no words are spoken, you can clearly hear the please that rests in those puppy dog eyes.
By the beginning of the third week, Bucky doesn’t even wait to go to your room. He follows you from training, or the living room, or the kitchen, and after the two of you silently get ready your bathrooms, you fall into bed. He always joins you seconds later, finishing up in his room about the same time. His brow is softer since he began spending the nights with you. His nightmares are less frequent, and the worry that had etched its way onto his chiseled features had faded a bit.
Your routine becomes second nature. Bid everyone goodnight, brush your teeth, wash your face, change, and crawl into bed. A warm chest always presses into your back as you lay down and you sigh, knowing that if he ever decides to end whatever this arrangement is, that you’ll never sleep soundly again.
It’s about half way through week four of whatever this is when the two of you speak about it for the first time.
“I know,” He begins minutes after you’ve settled into his arms. His sudden speaking makes you jump, his warm breath blowing over the crux of your neck and shoulder. “I know this isn’t normal. But I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. I haven’t slept like this since…since before the war.” You smile despite yourself, rolling in his arms so you can look at him in the low light.
“Why me?” You whisper as your fingers draw patterns into the soft creases of his shirt.
“Because you didn’t know me before. Because you’re the only one who didn’t already have some idea of me in their head. You know who I am now, and it’s more than I expected to find here.” And it was true. You were one of the only one in the compound who had arrived after him. You hadn’t seen his files, you hadn’t seen him at his worst, you only knew Bucky - the man who laid in your arms now.
“I’m here for you, Bucky. Anything you need, I’m here for you.” He hummed quietly at your offer, pressing a kiss to your hairline before hugging you tightly against him. Instinctively, your arms wound tighter around him.
“Just put your lovin’ on me, doll.”
Put your lovin’ on me
Take this weight off me
And put your lovin’ on me
Everyone notices the new pep in Bucky’s step over the next few months. It’s no secret that he’s moved in with you, but you didn’t mind. Steve had been the one to catch the two of you running things from his room to yours to make the nights easier. He stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at seeing his still recovering best friend moving in with a woman.
The two of you quickly explain your situation the blushing blonde, telling him that nothing is going on between the two of you but that you’ve just become like Bucky’s security blanket and nothing more. You swear that Steve looks almost hurt for a second that it isn’t him, but smiles once he realizes that this is something Bucky initiated on his own. It was a sign of progress, and it lifted the weight off of Bucky’s shoulders some.
And that was enough for Steve.
He even offered to help the two of you with moving.
It was only hours after you had finished that the others, somehow found out. You blamed Steve, because - naturally - but he pleaded innocent over and over again. You almost didn’t believe him. That is until you saw a smirk playing at Natasha’s lips. Leave it to one of the best spies out there to find out.
“So, Frosty, should I be looking for a new tenant for your room?” Tony asked as he hopped up onto the counter beside Romanoff, biting into an apple. “Y’know, since you’ve up and left me.” He spoke with his mouth full.
Typical Tony.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky merely brushed it off, returning to the diary in his right hand, pen flowing as he recorded events from that day. His metal hand was absentmindedly running over your arm that was flung across his chest. As the two of you had gotten closer, he would find new ways to always be touching you. Whether it was simply to press his side against yours as you sat together or to practically blanket himself on top of you, he always seemed to be content while in contact with you. Today, he had come and leaned himself against you as you read. And you didn’t mind one bit, either.
You just wished he could see why you craved his touch so much.
Sometime over the past several months, between the constant touching, the late night cuddling, and the way he would confide in you, you’d fallen in love with him.
You were sure the two of you were friends now, and you trusted him, but you wouldn’t ruin this for Bucky. It was entirely too selfish of you to take advantage of his situation like that, but it was also selfish of you to want this to never end.
You wonder if he can feel the sexual tension that seems to cover the two of you like a blanket, too.
At some point, you had started running your fingers through the hair that was tangled against your chest. You only realized your actions when he borderline purred against you.
“Of course, you don’t.” Tony chuckled, turning his attention to you. Your fingers froze at the look, earning a huff from the super soldier in your lap. “So you were just redecorating your room then, Y/N?”
“Yup.”
“Hmm. And you asked for…Frosty’s help with that?” He pressed, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Yes, Tony.” Stark nodded at your answer and pursed his lips in thought. Uh oh. “Figured I’d go with a classic touch.” Bucky side eyes you with a smirk at the underhanded joke before turning his attention back to his writings.
“Interesting. So do you always let your interior designers cuddle with you?” Nat spoke up from where she watched the way Bucky cradled your arm against his chest. At that, the two of you exchanged a weary glance.
“I cuddle with everyone. Wanda knows!” You cover quickly, nodding to the woman in question who had just entered. With a click of her tongue and putting her hands up in surrender, she looked at the other two as if to say ‘don’t look at me.’
“Pretty…intimate if you ask me.” Natasha continues.
“Wonder what she does with her personal trainers.” Tony snickered to the red head.
Standing abruptly, you glared harshly at the two idiots fist bumping and slapped your book shut for dramatic effect.
“You know what! I’m going to bed.”
“I’ll turn in as well,” Bucky said, rising from the couch. Not helping, dude! “I’ll walk Y/N back to her room.”
“Don’t you mean ‘our’ room?” Natasha giggled.
“Use protection, Barnes! I don’t need any more of you running around!”
~~~
Something was off that night.
Things seemed normal enough when the two of you were getting ready. Bucky even smiled over to you once he finished his nightly routine and crawled into bed, waiting for you. You supposed you should’ve known what kind of night it would be when you saw him strip down to his boxers and tank-top.
Though the two of you had done nothing more than cuddle, platonically you might add, you knew that he could tell when it would be a bad night. He had little tells that you had picked up on, as well. He would revert to his quiet self as the two of you got ready, and barely even make eye contact. His temperature would also skyrocket far above his already obscenely warm standard body heat - meaning: less clothing made for a happier Bucky.
But he was still a gentleman, and he never got more naked than this.
Unfortunately.
All of those things usually led up to him crying in your arms after a particularly nasty nightmare would shake him awake.
And so it was no surprise when you awoke with a start at God knows what time to what you dreaded the most.
Beside you, Bucky was sobbing and grunting in pain, his outburst growing with each passing second.
“Bucky, hey it’s ok, I’m here.” You whispered, reaching out to run your hand over his shoulder blades. The gesture always unknotted his taut muscles and gave him at least some sense of comfort as he woke up. But not this time.
Instead, the second your skin touched his sweat drenched shirt, he whipped around, wide awake. A rage like you had never seen dwelled in those empty depths, and you knew suddenly that it wasn’t Bucky that was above you. No, the man who held you down with an ungodly pressure wrapped around your neck was now the Winter Soldier. Disoriented and frightened, you blinked rapidly in the dark room and let your eyes adjust.
Above you, the soldier clenched his teeth as his fingers wound tighter around your throat and his voice came out in garbled Russian that fell on deaf ears.
Tears pricked at your eyes as you gasped and clawed at his strong digits and flailed helplessly in an attempt to throw him off balance.
“B-Buck-” You sputtered as your lungs began to fail you. “Buck, let g-go-”
As if he’d been slapped by the sound of your voice, his weight lifted off of you as he rocked back on his heels, arms wide as if he couldn’t get them far enough away from you.
“Christ, Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry!” He sobbed, staring down at the offending limbs. You’d never seen such fear and self-loathing before, which frankly concerned the hell out of you. The two emotions were no stranger to him, but to see them at such a heartbreaking level was entirely new.
You wiggled yourself out from under the sheets, unsure for the first time if it would be ok to touch him. Would it comfort him like before, or would he lash out again?
“Bucky,” you settled yourself on your knees across from him. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m not hurt.”
You reach forward, winding your fingers around the clasped hands in his lap but he pulls away like your touch burned. When he looks up at you, sorrow swirls in the murky depths. Then those eyes flicker to your throat, and he’s utterly ashamed.
“Bullshit.” He growls, making to get up. But you won’t allow it. Instead, you lace your fingers through vibranium ones, and although he could very easily pull away, he doesn’t for fear of hurting you.
Again.
“Bucky, this is the first time it’s ever happened. Besides, I’ve taken worse hits.” You joke, but he doesn’t find it funny. Clearing your throat at the obviously displeased look on his face, you try again. “I’m a big girl, Bucky. I knew it was a possibility when you first came to me.” With an outstretched hand, you settle under the covers once more, arms wide. “Now get your big butt back under these covers, Sergeant.”
For a moment it looks like he’s going to run far, far away. But to your immense relief, he shuffles back to you.
Only instead of crawling in under the covers beside you, he’s draping his body all but on top of yours. He settles himself on his side beside your legs, pulling you into his arms and resting his head against your stomach.
It takes you a second to reciprocate, shocked by the new contact, but soon you’re carding your fingers through his hair and gently rubbing his scalp.
“It was about you.” He mumbles into your skin, eyes screwed shut. The worry is back, heavy on his brow. “The dream,” he elaborates, “it was about you. Hydra…took you to get to me, and I couldn’t do anything. They made me watch as they…as they…Christ.”
“Shh, it’s ok.” You squeeze him tighter in your arms, pressing a soft kiss to his long locks. “You don’t have to relive it, Bucky. I’ve got you. I’m here. Besides,” you smooth a finger over his furrowed brow, the soft petting having him sighing in no time, “there’s no reason Hydra would take me. I’m safe, Bucky.”
There’s a chance that you might see something rolling on my cheek
But don’t stop
It’s not you
“There is.” He shifts suddenly before you can feel his tears against your skin, settling between the V of your legs, holding himself up with a hand on either side of your head as he gazes down at you. Some unreadable emotion that you’ve never seen swirls around in the depths of his glistening eyes. “There is a reason they would take you. They’d do it to get to me, Doll.” Flesh fingers slowly pet at your throat, his human hand attempting to soothe the angry red marks left behind by his left arm. It sends a shiver straight down your spine. One he doesn’t miss. “They’d take you because…I love you.”
All the air in the room seems to evaporate as he stares deep into your eyes. When you don’t answer right away, he’s speaking again.
“I know what we have is strange, we’ve never really talked about it, but when Stark started talking today, all I wanted to do was tell him that you were mine. Show him, even. But…we never actually talked about it, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized you weren’t mine.”
Before you can answer him - tell him that you’re his if that’s what he wants you are definitely his - he leans down and your heart leaps into your throat.
You watch him with wide eyes, and he grows ever closer, his own eyes darting between yours and your mouth. Gently, ever so gently, he grazes his lips over your own. The touch is so light, hesitant, like if he presses too hard, you might break. Something thrills through the both of you as skin touches skin, an electric charge frying all the nerves between you as you fit together.
All at once, you’re crashing into each other, fingers winding in his hair as his own splay out across your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible. The cool metal of his left-hand skirts down your legs, tickling the skin of your outer thigh before hooking under your knees and locking them around his hips.
A quick swivel of hips has the both of you groaning, his sounds coaxing gooseflesh all over your body. He doesn’t break contact for a second, dragging lips and tongue from the corner of your mouth to your throat.
Impossibly white teeth nibble on your collar bone.
Strong hands lock under your knees.
Thick thighs push yours ever more open as his hips grind into yours.
Somewhere amidst all the bumping, rubbing, and kissing, you feel a strange sensation gathering at the crux of your neck.
Tears.
Make me forget
Be my drug
Get me high off your touch for the night
Alright?
“I love you too.” You finally say. Your voice is wrecked, arousal tugging on your chords. When he shutters against your throat, you panic. “Bucky, are you alright?”
The smile he grants you with as he pulls away makes your heart leap, but you can’t help but think it looks painfully mismatched with the tears brimming in his eyes.
“I’m happy, Doll.” He answers, brushing the hair away from your eyes. The look in your eyes softens as he does so, only to darken once more a moment later when Bucky tugs his shirt up and over broad shoulders. “Happier than I’ve been in years.”
Your answer is a small smile before you’re pulling him down against you, whispering “good” against his rough lips.
He tugs you up, smashing you flush against him, so your legs are open on either side of his own as he sits on his haunches, legs tucked snuggly beneath him.
The t-shirt hiding you from his gaze is all but torn away as Bucky’s fingers work quickly to rid you of your clothes.
As soon as you’ve unhooked your bra, you throw your arms around his neck and guide his lips to yours again. When his battle-rough hands come up to cup your breasts, he sighs the weight of all these years of torment out against your skin. The longer you kiss him, pressing your bare skin to his own, the less he feels like a monster and the more he feels like a man.
“Need you.” You groan, dragging a hand down the sculpted muscles of his torso. A thrill runs through you when you realize he’s shivered at your touch. And when your hand cups him through his boxers, that’s the end of it.
Impatiently, he jerks your underwear down your legs, you barely raising your hips in aid, a ravenous look in his eyes as he sees all of you for the first time.
“I don’t know how I’ve kept my hands to myself all this time.” He murmurs, grazing his fingers over the sensitive skin of your abdomen, over your ribs, before finally settling on your breasts.
“Me either.” Your voice falls off in a sigh as his lips reattach to your neck, sucking a few love bites on your skin before sinking to your breasts. A low whine crawls its way up as he nips at the soft skin of your cleavage, then to your right breast as his metal hand palms at the other. The contrast of hot to cold from one side to the other is enough to make your head spin as his wet tongue darts out to swirl around your perky nipple. “Oh, Bucky.”
He smirks against your breast, catching the soft peak against his teeth briefly before he’s switching sides, his right hand taking up where his mouth had left off.
His left hand, however…
“Oh, God,” you moan all too loudly when the cold digits caress your folds. Bucky chuckles, the sound reverberating through where his lips are now attached to your rib cage. When one slides in, smooth and cold against your hot core, your head flys back of its own accord, your fingers wrapping around his wrist in encouragement, the others knotted in the sheets.
“Fuck, you’re wet. Y’know you thrash in your sleep?” He questions suddenly and you almost hit him. How is he so coherent when his finger is knuckle deep inside of you. “Sometimes you roll right up against me, wiggling until I’m hard as a rock. You only calm down when I wrap my arm around you.” You hum in question, your eyebrows pulling together as he slides another finger in, this thumb seeking out the hood of your clit. “Sometimes you even moan,” he tells you, pulling the exact sound from you with a harsh circle of his thumb, “just like that. Takes all I’ve got not to throw you down and have my way with you, Doll.”
His fingers crook inside of you, the vibranium dragging over the sensitive skin, and - fuck -, you want him to have his way with you right now.
“Bucky,” you beg hoarsely, your fingers drifting up the smooth skin of his back. Any thoughts that you planned to turn to words were lost on you, however, when you feel his breath blow over where thigh meets hip.
Your head falls back at the sensation, back arching as he places open-mouthed kisses to the apex of your thighs.
“Look at me, Doll.”
Your eyes snap open, cobalt blue eyes that have all but been swallowed by black irises staring back with an accompanying smirk. Bucky never looks away, gaze locked on yours, as he drags his tongue flatly against your folds. You moan, long and loud at the feeling of lips closing around you, his fingers slowly pumping in and out, the drag of every groove of metal hitting you in just the right way.
The tell-tale burn coiling in your belly had you thrashing against him, hips seeking out his talented tongue as you desperately chase your climax. Your soft pants grew in pitch, egging the super soldier on.
“Are you going to cum for me?” He asks, his thumb taking up his ministrations as he spoke. “C’mon, Y/N. Cum for me Doll.” His cooed words, along with the way his fingers pet every sweet spot you had, had you careening over the edge as you hand fisted his long hair. The groan that pulls out of him vibrates through your body as he milks your orgasm out for as long as he can before he’s slipping his hand from between your legs as he rises.
That boyish smirk is the first thing your orgasm rocked eyes see, pulling those wet metal fingers in between plump pink lips. He groans at the taste of you, eyes devouring you as he licks his fingers clean.
Without another word, you open your arms wide and he all but falls onto you. Strong arms brace his massive body as he hovers over you, nose tracing a line up the hollow of your neck until he finds your lips. Rough and passionate, he kisses you, making your body sing at his touch. His hair tickles your cheeks, his hips rolling his still clothed erection softly over your sensitive lips. Instantly, your hands find his backside and squeeze.
When you glare at him, fingers digging into the muscle of his cheeks, he gets the hint. You tug the soft cotton down, letting him kick it off somewhere in the room as the sheets tangle around your two writhing forms.
Your eyes widen, glancing down at the man nestled between your legs, or rather at what he’s packing. A long, thick cock stares back at you, curved proudly toward his navel and dripping pre-cum from the angry red head. Your mouth waters, your eyes giving away your thoughts as you glance up at him. The uncertainty in that handsome face has you hesitantly reaching forward and curling your fingers around him.
“You’re beautiful.” You mutter against his lips, his mouth falling open with a huff and blue eyes fluttering at the feeling of your soft skin stroking his hot length.
White lips hold his bottom lips hostage as he looks down at you from under coal-black lashes and heavy lids. The question dances there but he doesn’t dare ask aloud, lest it shatter the spell you’ve both seemed to cast on each other. Instead, you nod, fingers finding the plush curves of his bottom once more and legs falling open wide as he lines himself up to your entrance with one hand and grips your hip with the other.
Heavy moans break through the air as each inch of him slowly sinks into your tight heat, stretching you with a pleasant burn. All too soon he’s bottoming out, the fingers on your hip digging so deep that you know you’ll bruise, but god, will you wear those mark with pride. His lust blown eyes search your face, your own eyes scrunched tight as you get used to the feel of him, of the way he’s got you all but busting at the seams. He’s patient, not even so much as twitching as he reaches between you to coax some relaxation from your bundle of nerves. He’s so patient, but he’s only human.
Metal fingers dig into your headboard as he battles the urge to move, leaving long grooves that you couldn’t care less about at the moment. All you care about is Bucky. Bucky’s lips, Bucky’s moans, the way Bucky is filling you so perfectly right now.
And then he moves.
Colors explode behind your eyes as you clamp them shut, your spread heels digging into the mattress to attempt to gain some traction against Bucky’s slow, deep thrusts.
“You feel fantastic.” He breathes across your lips, right hand finding your bent knee at his side. All at once, he’s gripping tightly, pushing your legs open ever wider as he sinks in deeper than before. A low sound that could only be defined as a growl reverbertes through his chest as your walls slip and clench around him. “So tight.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” You chuckle breathlessly, tracing a path up taut abs and firm pectorals to find purchase against broad shoulders. “A little big.” A thick brow arches at that.
“You complainin’?”
“Never.” The sounds of skin slapping skin fill the room, the sweet aroma of sex hanging heavily between the two of you. Moans, pants, and groans harmonize like music as he plays your body with his fingers and thick cock, thrusting in a steady rhythm. Teeth clack, lips slip and slide as he falls to his elbows above you, caging you between his arms.
He seems to be everywhere all at once, cupping your cheek, massive hand curling around your thigh, or dancing on your clit. His lips bruise your throat with love bites, painting his claim all over you. You were his, and he was yours, this superhuman who had charmed his way into your heart, and the two of you pull and push wanting nothing but to be as close as humanly possible.
“B-Bucky.” You whimper when his hips stutter. He was close, you could feel the way he pulsed inside of you, petting your walls. He looks up from the particularly purple mark he’s marked your collar bone with, slowing his hips as he regards you. Without a word, your fingers find his, guiding them to the column of your throat.
Panic flares in those cloudy depths, his hand nearly slipping from your grasp as he attempts to pull back. But then you look at him, look into him, bringing his metal palm to your lips. “It’s ok.” You promise, pressing a loving kiss against the heel of his palm. Then you’re suckling each individual finger, never once breaking your eyes from his, before settling him over your throat once more. “I trust you.”
“But, the things I’ve done with it.” He audibly gulps, eyes flitting over the silver appendage.
“James, look at me.” You murmur. He does. “I love you. I love all of you, you didn’t do anything, but it can’t be easy to carry that weight around. Let me help you show you that you can bring pleasure, not just pain.”
“But I hurt you.”
“Maybe I liked it…”
The hesitancy is evident on his dark features as he cups your face with his born hand, warm skin tingling against your own. Cold fingers splay over your throat, those blue eyes fixing you with an earnest gaze. “You’ll stop me if anything goes wrong.” Not a question, an order. It thrills you, and you nod.
Softly, oh so softly, he presses down, his thumb and pointer finger finding home under the angles of your jaw. You smile, right hand come up to cradle the hand that cups your cheek as he presses on, just applying the faintest bit of pressure. It’s when you mewl against his lips that he begins to rock against you again.
“Oo-oh, God. Y/N.” He whimpers, letting his flesh hand join the other with new found confidence. “Does that feel good, Doll?”
You can barely hear him over the thrumming in your ears as your head falls back, your second climax building steadily.
“Y-yes.” You declare in a whine, rocking your hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust so that his pubic bone brushes your clit just right. His fingers twist around your neck at the feeling. “Oh, God, Bucky, I’m going to - unh, I’m-”
“Cum for me, Doll.” He urges. “Cum all over me. I’m right - Jesus - right behind you.” All at once, you’re falling. Falling headlong into bliss as you cry out, walls clenching and milking the girth that prolongs your euphoria. “Good girl.” His gentle timbre soothes as he rocks once, twice, more before spilling out inside your with a growl of a groan.
Bucky’s sweat sticky forehead burrows in the crux of your neck, peppering sweet kisses to your collarbones as the two of you attempt to control your rampant breathing.
Untangling from the throes of passion proves difficult when you’ve so effectively jostled your entire bedding. But honestly, you could fall asleep just as you were, super soldier using you as a pillow and all.
“I love you.”
“I love you too. You know they heard us.” You say, receiving nothing more than a grunt in return. “They’re going to talk.” A low chuckle tickles your skin making your insides flutter, followed by a groan at the stimulation around his all too sensitive downstairs. Finally, he pulls out, tucking your back tightly against his front.
“Let them talk.” He mumbles, close to sleep. “I can finally tell Stark that you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours, Buck.” A small smile curls at his kiss-swollen lips and he presses a chaste kiss to your hair.
And for the first time since Bucky crawled under your covers unannounced all that time ago, he sleeps soundly without another thought of the terrors that gripped him so tightly before.
There’s nothing here to catch me now
I’m gonna fall anyway