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The Tower was quiet. Too quiet, Bucky thought, padding barefoot down the dim hallway with only the soft hum of Stark’s arc reactor tech filling the air. Everyone else had turned in hours ago, but he knew better than to assume Tony Stark slept like a normal person. The man was probably buried in his workshop, half-drunk on espresso and sleep deprivation, soldering some piece of bleeding-edge tech that didn’t even have a name yet.
Bucky had knocked once, out of politeness, then let himself in without waiting for an answer.
Tony didn’t look up right away. He was hunched over a bench littered with microchips and tools, hair sticking up in a dozen directions, glasses perched halfway down his nose. His black tank top clung to him, streaked with some kind of oil, and his shoulders were tense with focus.
“You’re supposed to be asleep, princess,” Tony murmured without glancing over, voice lazy but carrying that sharpness Bucky was addicted to.
Bucky leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re supposed to practice what you preach, doll.”
That earned him a look, Tony lifting his head with a smirk that made something low in Bucky’s stomach tighten. “Touché. What’s your excuse for prowling the halls at”, Tony flicked his wrist to check a nonexistent watch, “0300 hours?”
Bucky shrugged, letting a slow grin creep onto his face. “Couldn’t sleep. Know you generally don’t. Figured you could use some company.”
Tony’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin, wolfish and warm all at once. “Company. Right. That what they’re calling it these days?”
Bucky didn’t bother answering with words. He sauntered forward, hips loose, his purposely-made-alluring scent curling out like smoke from a fire he couldn’t smother. He knew what Tony was smelling now: soft sweetness threaded with steel, something heady and distinctly his. It was no secret that omegas smelled different when they were keyed up, and Tony, for all his carefully constructed nonchalance, always reacted to him like a live wire.
Tony sat back in his chair, tilting his head, pretending to study him like one of his suits. “You’re trouble, Buckaroo.”
Bucky bent down, bracing one vibranium hand on the armrest of Tony’s chair, crowding into his space with a slow, predatory smile. “That’s news to you, doll?”
Tony chuckled low, and Bucky caught a whiff of his scent beneath the clean tang of machine oil, something rich and spicy, alpha and sharp-edged, tempered with the softness Tony never let anyone else see. It curled through Bucky’s senses, lighting every nerve in his body.
He kissed him, slow at first, testing, and Tony met him with a bite of teeth and a soft groan that made Bucky’s insides clench. Tony’s hand slid to Bucky’s neck, fingers warm against the back of his skull, thumb pressing lightly at the hinge of his jaw.
“God, you smell good,” Tony muttered, switching to Italian without thinking, as he so often did around Bucky. “Dolcezza… sei irresistibile.”
Bucky grinned against his mouth. “Keep talkin’ like that, Stark, and I’m not lettin’ you sleep tonight.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
It didn’t take long before Tony was tugging Bucky into his lap, chair creaking under the weight of a supersoldier but holding firm. Bucky straddled him, tugging at Tony’s tank top until it bunched at his chest. The cool bite of the arc reactor under his palms made Bucky pause, brushing his fingers over it softly.
Tony caught the gesture, smirking faintly. “You gonna worship me now, princess?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
They kissed again, deeper this time, Tony’s hands sliding under Bucky’s shirt to grip the supple flesh of his tiny waist. The scent of arousal thickened between them, an alpha-omega cocktail of readiness and hunger that made Bucky’s head spin. He could feel Tony’s control fray around the edges; his alpha instincts always hummed close to the surface when Bucky was like this, pliant but not submissive, challenging him in all the right ways.
Tony shifted, tilting his hips up, and Bucky gasped softly, breaking the kiss.
“Bed’s two floors up,” Tony said, voice rough.
Bucky grinned, licking his lips. “Don’t need a bed.”
“God, you’re–” Tony cut himself off with a laugh and a groan when the omega rolled his hips. “You’re gonna ruin my chair, Barnes.”
Bucky leaned in, lips brushing Tony’s ear. “You got a problem with that?”
The growl Tony let out was answer enough.
-
Bucky was bent over Tony’s worktable, hands braced on the cool metal, clothes discarded somewhere behind them. Tony was on his knees, glasses abandoned, tracing his mouth along the curve of Bucky’s lower back and biting at the soft skin just above his waistband. Bucky hissed, arching into the touch, still terribly needy.
“Teasing me, Stark?” he muttered, voice hoarse.
“Would I do that?” Tony’s tone was pure mischief. He would. He is.
“Yes,” Bucky said flatly, though the corner of his mouth curled upward.
Tony chuckled, low and warm, then pressed his nose to the small of Bucky’s back, inhaling deeply. “Christ. You smell… sweet. Like honey. Can almost taste it.”
Bucky shivered. The way Tony said it — raw, reverent — made his chest tighten. He felt Tony’s hands sliding down his sides, fingers firm but careful, mapping every scar and muscle like he was memorizing him.
“Tony,” Bucky murmured, letting his head drop forward.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“C’mere.”
Tony obeyed, rising smoothly, slotting himself against Bucky’s back. Bucky tilted his head as Tony mouthed at his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive scent gland, bruised from their last time together. The scent of alpha was dizzying now, clinging to Bucky’s skin, thick in the air. Tony’s cum dripping from Bucky’s used cunt.
It was always like this between them: heat simmering just below the surface, no pretense of restraint. But it wasn’t just sex. Not for Bucky, at least. The way Tony touched him — deft, hungry, and yet almost painfully gentle — made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t since before the war.
Bucky pushed back against him, grinding deliberately, and Tony groaned into his neck, hips twitching forward. “You’re killing me here, princess,” he muttered.
“Not my fault you’re weak for me.”
Tony laughed, breath hot against his ear. “I’m not denying it.”
Bucky turned his head enough to catch Tony’s mouth, kissing him hard. Tony’s hands skimmed down his stomach, teasing the patch of tousled hair there before slipping lower.
What followed was a blur of breathless kisses and whispered Italian, Bucky moaning softly into Tony’s mouth as they moved together. Tony knew exactly how to touch him, how to pull him apart with careful precision, alternating between teasing strokes and firm thrusts.
The table rattled beneath them as Bucky gasped, knuckles white where he gripped the edge. Tony’s scent surrounded him, strong and heady, flooding his senses with warmth and want.
When he finally came undone, it was with Tony’s name on his lips, voice breaking in a way he couldn’t control. Tony held him through it, murmuring soft praises, kisses pressed to the back of his neck.
They cleaned up in comfortable silence, Bucky pulling his shirt back on while Tony leaned against the table, watching him with a faint smile.
“You’re somethin’ else, Stark,” Bucky muttered, running a hand through his long hair.
Tony smirked. “Flattery will get you everywhere, princess.”
Bucky chuckled softly, but there was a pang in his chest he couldn’t quite shake. He wanted to stay, curl up with Tony, listen to his heartbeat, breathe in that scent until morning. But that wasn’t what they did. This wasn’t… whatever that would be.
So he left, giving Tony a soft smile over his shoulder as he slipped out of the workshop.
And he didn’t see the way Tony watched him go, jaw tight, glasses dangling from his fingers like a shield he couldn’t bring himself to lift.
-
The shower should have helped.
Hot water poured against his shoulders, steam clouding the mirror across the bathroom, but nothing could wash away the unease curling in his stomach. He’d woken up before dawn, restless, his body achy in a way that felt different from the usual post-mission soreness. His sense of smell had been sharp all week, too sharp. And then there was the nausea, just enough to make him pause every time he bent over or moved too fast.
It had taken him all of two minutes to realize what was wrong.
Bucky sat on the edge of his bed in nothing but sweats, towel draped around his neck, hair still damp clinging to his forehead, staring at the slim white stick in his hand. Two faint pink lines. The kind of sign that would make most omegas grin and rush into their alpha’s arms.
But he wasn’t most omegas. And Tony Stark… Tony Stark wasn't like most alphas.
Bucky exhaled through his nose, metal fingers tightening around the test until it creaked. His instincts were a tangled mess, protective warmth coiling around the thought of something small and vulnerable inside him, and fear, bone-deep fear, that he couldn’t shake.
He’d spent decades as a weapon, a ghost, non-human. Even now, after everything, he wasn’t sure he deserved a future, let alone a family. And Tony… Tony was brilliant, magnetic, infuriating, everything Bucky never thought he’d want, and yet he wanted him so badly it hurt.
But Tony Stark was also the man who threw himself into danger without blinking, who wore bravado like armor, who treated his heart like something to be bartered. What the hell would he say if Bucky showed up with this? This proverbial bomb in which there was no saving themselves from the imminent explosion it would cause?
Bucky set the test aside and buried his face in his hands.
He wanted to make a nest, to fill it with Tony’s clothes, to take comfort in Tony’s heady scent. His alpha’s scent. And Bucky didn’t even nest, for fuck’s sake — at least, not since before the war. And Tony wasn’t his fucking alpha, would never be.
His body wanted to curl in on itself, scent pumping heavy with distress. He hadn’t even realized it until FRIDAY piped up softly.
“Sergeant Barnes, your stress pheromones are elevated. Would you like me to–”
“Mute,” he rasped, scrubbing a hand over his face.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
He thought back to last night, Tony’s mouth on his neck, his teasing laugh, the way he’d said dolcezza like it was a prayer. It hadn’t felt casual, not really, but Bucky knew Tony. The man could sound like he was in love while ordering coffee.
And maybe that was the problem.
Bucky’s heart clenched. He wanted Tony’s warmth, Tony’s touch, Tony’s scent wrapped around him as he slept. He wanted it all. But he’d seen the headlines. He’d seen the string of women, men, alphas, omegas, betas who’d come and gone over the years. Tony wasn’t a man who settled down.
Hell, Bucky didn’t even know if Tony wanted kids.
He thought of the tiny life growing inside him. Fragile, silent, already making his instincts scream to protect. The thought of Tony rejecting him, rejecting them, made him feel sick to his bones, bile rising up his throat.
And so he decided, right then, that Tony didn’t need to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
-
Avoiding Tony was harder than he thought it would be.
The man was everywhere, towering over conference tables in briefings, cracking jokes in the common room, always surrounded by a faint cloud of coffee and cologne and machine oil from the lab.
Bucky started taking missions without him, training in the early mornings or late nights to dodge him. He switched up his routes through the Tower, ducked into hallways, found excuses to skip out on dinners. It wasn’t easy. Tony was sharp, and Bucky could feel his gaze on him every time they were in the same room.
It hurt. God, it hurt worse than anything he’d expected.
He missed Tony’s voice, his hands, the way he always smelled faintly of burnt sugar and expensive bourbon. He missed the teasing “princess,” Tony would purr, and Bucky would roll his eyes and call him “doll” back, and somehow that little exchange always made his chest feel warm.
Now, the silence between them was deafening.
-
Tony wasn’t stupid.
He didn’t say anything — of course he didn’t — but Bucky could see it in the way Tony’s posture shifted when he walked into the room, the extra edge in his humor, the slight distance in his eyes.
If Bucky had to guess, Tony probably thought he’d gotten bored. That this was over.
And maybe that was safer.
Bucky clenched his jaw and adjusted his gloves, heading out for another run on the training floor. Anything to burn off the restless energy crawling under his skin.
But no amount of sparring or gun maintenance could settle the unease gnawing at him. Every night, when he slipped into bed alone, one hand drifted unconsciously to his lower stomach, protective instinct flaring even in his sleep. It was getting harder to hide. Harder to ignore the truth.
And harder to stop himself from wanting Tony anyway.
-
The tension was getting thick enough to taste.
Steve had started giving him those quiet, concerned glances, the kind that said he’d noticed something was off but wasn’t about to push. Natasha’s gaze was sharper, like she was one question away from cornering him. Even Sam, who usually didn’t give a damn about Tower drama, had raised an eyebrow the last time Bucky had ducked out of movie night early with another lame excuse.
But none of that compared to the way Tony had gone quiet.
Bucky hadn’t realized how loud Tony’s presence was until it was gone, the sarcastic commentary during briefings, the way he’d lean against Bucky’s chair with a smirk, the casual brush of fingers as he passed him a mission report. Now, Tony sat at the far end of the table, eyes hidden behind tinted lenses, voice sharp as he rattled off mission specs. He didn’t look at Bucky once.
“Any questions?” Tony asked, voice clipped.
No one spoke.
“Great. Wheels up in twenty. Don’t be late.” He stood, chair scraping softly against the floor, and swept out of the room with a rustle of fancy fabric.
Bucky watched him go, throat tight. He had wanted distance, hadn’t he? He’d gotten it.
-
The mission was straightforward enough: infiltrate, secure, extract. Nothing they hadn’t done a hundred times before.
But Bucky’s body wasn’t cooperating. He was slower, heavier, instincts screaming at him to be careful. He moved through the compound like a ghost, gun steady, but every fiber of his being was screaming at him: protect the pup. It made him reckless, not in the usual way, but cautious to the point of distraction.
“Barnes, you good?” Natasha’s voice crackled in his earpiece.
“Fine,” he muttered, ducking behind cover.
She didn’t sound convinced, but she didn’t press.
By the time they wrapped, his hands were shaking. Not from adrenaline — he could handle adrenaline — but from the slow, creeping exhaustion that came with his body quietly rerouting energy to the tiny life inside him.
He didn’t even realize Tony was waiting for him until he stumbled back onto the quinjet.
The alpha was leaning against the wall, faceplate dissolved, suit scorched from weapons’ blasting fire. He looked fine. Too fine. That perfectly polished Stark facade was locked in place, expression unreadable behind years worth of practice at concealing his emotions.
“Barnes,” Tony said smoothly. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Bucky grunted, sinking onto the nearest bench.
Tony crossed the jet in three strides, crouching in front of him. “You’re pale,” he said, frowning. His voice softened, slipping into that low, private register Bucky wasn’t supposed to hear anymore. “You hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me.”
Bucky forced himself to meet his gaze. “I’m fine, Stark.”
The use of his last name made Tony flinch, just slightly. But he didn’t argue. He just stood and walked to the front of the jet, strapping in without another word.
Bucky hated himself for the hollow feeling that left behind.
-
The medbay was too bright.
He sat on the edge of the exam table while FRIDAY ran scans, doing his best not to look like he was about to pass out. His muscles ached; his head felt heavy. He’d meant to slip in, get cleared, and get out before anyone noticed.
But Tony Stark noticed everything.
The door hissed open, and there he was, still in the nanotech suit, faceplate retracted. His expression was carefully neutral.
“Barnes.”
“Stark,” Bucky muttered, looking away.
“Want to tell me why FRIDAY pinged me about you being in the medbay?” Tony asked, voice deceptively casual.
Bucky scowled, snapping, “Didn’t know I needed your permission to get checked out.”
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He stepped closer, eyes scanning Bucky’s face. “You’re pale. You were slow on the mission. You’re avoiding me. What the hell’s going on, Bucky?”
The sound of his name — soft, real —made Bucky’s chest ache.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, too quickly.
Tony’s nostrils flared, alpha instincts prickling. “Bullshit.”
Bucky finally looked at him, and the concern in Tony’s eyes nearly broke him.
“Why are you shutting me out?” Tony asked quietly. “Did I… screw up? Because if I did, I–”
“Tony.” Bucky’s voice was sharp enough to make him stop.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unsaid words and the scent of their emotions — Tony’s sharp with worry, Bucky’s bitter with unconcealed fear.
“I can’t do this right now,” Bucky muttered, sliding off the gurney.
“Can’t do what? Talk to me?” Tony stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “You’ve been ghosting me for weeks. You’re sick, and now you’re running from me? What the actual hell, Bucky?”
“Move, Stark.”
“No.”
Bucky’s fists clenched. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to hurt Tony. But the thought of telling him, of seeing that look of disappointment he’s used to receiving from others — but not Tony, please, not his Tony — made his stomach turn.
Tony’s voice dropped, rough. “You think I don’t notice when the guy I–” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “When you’re not okay?”
Bucky froze. The slip was small, but it was enough to crack something open in his chest.
Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t want this anymore, fine. You should’ve just said that instead of disappearing on me.”
Bucky flinched. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Bucky’s throat worked, up and down, incessantly. He could feel the words pressing against his tongue, desperate to escape. But fear held them back, choking him.
He couldn’t tell him. Not yet.
So he brushed past Tony without answering, leaving the medbay in heavy silence.
And Tony, for once, didn’t follow.
That night, Bucky lay awake in his dark room, one hand curled over his lower stomach. His instincts screamed at him to go to Tony, to bury himself in his alpha’s scent, to find safety. To be good.
But he stayed put, staring at the ceiling, drowning in the quiet. Inescapable quiet.
-
It all came to a head on the next mission.
It wasn’t supposed to be a bad one, the intel said the Hydra splinter cell was small, underfunded, and desperate. They’d sweep through, clean up, and be home in time for dinner.
But desperation made enemies dangerous.
The firefight broke out fast, bullets whining past his ears as Bucky ducked for cover. His heart was pounding too hard, instincts screaming louder than training. Every movement felt clumsy, slow. He’d been careful for weeks, adjusting his body language, masking his scent, but stress was making it harder to keep his control. His omega instincts were in overdrive, screaming to protect the pup even as he tried to ignore them. To go find their alpha. He would protect them. Yes, Bucky would make alpha proud.
“Bucky!”
Tony’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. Bucky looked up in time to see a grenade bounce across the floor.
“Down!” Tony barked, nanotech armor snapping over him as he launched forward.
Bucky dove, his metal arm curling over his stomach on instinct. The explosion shook the floor. He hit the wall hard, pain blooming in his ribs.
“Barnes!” Tony’s voice was hoarse, frantic. The blast had thrown him too, his suit smoking from the impact.
Bucky forced himself to move, teeth gritted, but the dizziness was too much. His vision swam.
“Stay down, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Tony crooned, and suddenly there were strong arms around him, lifting him like he weighed nothing. The scent of alpha filled his nose — coffee and bourbon and something sweet, something that felt like home.
He didn’t even realize he’d buried his face against Tony’s neck until the man spoke, voice tight. “Medbay. Now.”
“I’m fine,” Bucky slurred, but even he could hear how weak it sounded.
“Shut up,” Tony snapped, voice cracking. “You’re not fine.”
The medbay was chaos — shouting, equipment, bright lights — but Bucky only registered Tony’s scent, sharp with fear.
“FRIDAY, full scan,” Tony ordered, his voice clipped but shaking.
“Yes, Boss.”
The AI’s calm tone filled the room as Tony eased him onto a bed, armored hands gentle as they cupped his face. “Stay with me, Buckaroo, c’mon.”
Bucky tried to focus, but his body was betraying him. Instincts roared in his ears, making him wrap arms around himself. His scent was spiking, thick with fear and protectiveness, and there was no hiding it now.
“Scan complete,” FRIDAY said softly. “Sergeant Barnes has sustained bruised ribs. Additionally–”
Tony’s head snapped up. “Additionally what?”
“Additionally,” the AI continued calmly, “Sergeant Barnes is pregnant. Approximately eight weeks along.”
The words slammed into the room like another grenade.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Tony froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
Bucky closed his eyes. There it was. The truth. Now, he waits.
Tony was silent for so long that Bucky’s chest ached with the weight of it. He turned his face away, ashamed, bracing himself for anger, rejection, something.
“Eight weeks?” Tony’s voice was rough, almost hoarse.
“Yeah,” Bucky muttered, not looking at him. “Found out a while ago.”
Tony’s hand twitched against the bedrail, now unclad fingers flexing. “And you didn’t tell me.”
Bucky finally met his gaze. Tony’s big brown eyes were bright, unreadable, a storm of emotion swirling there.
“I didn’t–” Bucky swallowed hard. “I didn’t know how. Didn’t think you’d want–”
“Stop.” Tony’s voice cracked like a whip.
Bucky flinched.
Tony’s expression softened instantly, guilt flashing across his face. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, stepping back like he needed space to breathe.
“You thought I wouldn’t want it,” Tony said quietly, his voice raw. “You thought I wouldn’t want you.”
Bucky looked down at his hands. “Would you? Want me? Like this?” He gestured vaguely to himself — to the life inside of him, to his broken body, to everything that was so irreparably wrong with him and by consequence to all of the reasons Tony shouldn’t want someone like him, shame twisting in his gut.
Tony stared at him for a long, unbearable moment. Then he crossed the room in three strides, cupping Bucky’s jaw so, so gently, forcing him to look up.
“Are you kidding me?” Tony’s voice trembled. “You think I wouldn’t want you? Buck, I–” He broke off, laughing softly, bitterly. “I’ve been in love with you for months.”
Bucky blinked, stunned.
Tony’s thumb brushed over his cheekbone. “I thought you were pulling away because you were done with me. I thought you’d finally figured out with that big brain of yours I wasn’t– wasn’t good enough.” His voice cracked. “And all this time you were–”
“Scared,” Bucky whispered, voice small. “I was fucking scared, doll.”
The nickname made Tony’s breath hitch. He leaned his forehead against Bucky’s, armor cold against his bare arms. “You idiot,” Tony murmured. “You absolute, beautiful idiot.”
Bucky’s laugh was shaky, broken. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Tony huffed a laugh, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “No. Terrified? Yeah. But mad? No. I’m…” His voice softened. “I’m honored, Buck. You’re carrying my kid. How could I be mad at that?”
Something inside Bucky cracked open, relief flooding him so fast it was dizzying. He let out a shuddering breath, melting into Tony’s touch like ice cream under a blazing sun.
Tony kissed him then, soft, reverent, like Bucky was something fragile.
Bucky’s hand curled in Tony’s hair, dragging him closer. For the first time in weeks, the tension between them eased.
Tony pulled back just enough to murmur, “You should’ve told me sooner, snowflake. I’d have been here every step of the way.”
Bucky huffed a shaky laugh, tears burning his eyes. “Guess I’m not used to people stickin’ around.”
Tony’s expression softened even more, if that was possible. “Get used to it. You’re stuck with me now.”
And for the first time since he’d seen those two pink lines, Bucky believed it.
-
Tony stayed close after the reveal, fingertips ghosting over Bucky’s temple while his other hand rested against his shoulder like he needed the physical reassurance that Bucky was still there. The medbay felt too sterile, too clinical for what had just shifted between them, but neither of them moved for a long moment, content to just breathe in each other’s scent.
“Let’s get you outta here,” Tony murmured finally, voice low, intimate.
Bucky nodded, letting himself be guided down the corridor, Tony’s hand firm at the small of his back. The moment the medbay doors closed behind them, Bucky felt some of the tension in his spine ease. He’d spent weeks carrying a secret heavy enough to choke him, and now, Tony knew. And instead of walking away, Tony was… here.
When they reached Tony’s penthouse suite, the alpha didn’t turn on the lights. He simply ushered Bucky to the edge of the massive bed, kneeling to unlace his boots with slow, methodical precision. Bucky watched him, throat tight, heart pounding.
“You’re shaking,” Tony murmured, glancing up.
Bucky swallowed hard, feeling terribly vulnerable. “I– been… real scared, doll. ’Bout everything.”
Tony’s expression softened, and he set the boots aside before resting his hands on Bucky’s knees. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here, Buck. I’m not going anywhere.”
Something hot and thick swelled in Bucky’s chest at the sincerity in Tony’s voice. He reached out, cupping Tony’s jaw, thumb brushing over his scruff. “I didn’t– didn’t know if you’d wanna be tied to me like this.”
Tony huffed softly, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s palm. “You’re mine, baby girl. Been yours since the first time you let me touch you. This just makes it official.”
The pet name — gentle, teasing — sent a flush down Bucky’s neck. He’d missed hearing it, missed the warmth it always carried.
Tony kissed his wrist, then his arm, slow and reverent. “You smell different now,” he murmured, voice dipping into a husky tone as he nuzzled against Bucky’s pulse. “Softer. Sweeter. Almost milky. Instinct’s been screaming at me to keep you close. Now I know why.”
A soft whimper escaped Bucky’s throat before he could stop it, instincts answering Tony’s alpha presence with a shiver of need. The scent of safety and arousal filled the room, heavy and comforting. It made his insides melt into a puddle of slick way too soon. Embarrassingly sensitive, that’s what he is.
Tony noticed. He glanced up, eyes dark. “Want me to take care of you?”
Bucky nodded, breath shaky.
That was all Tony needed.
Tony stripped him with slow, steady hands, taking his time, like every layer was something sacred to peel away. His fingers traced over Bucky’s scars, his calloused hand, the curve of his stomach that was just beginning to soften.
Bucky froze at that — self-conscious, vulnerable. But Tony only knelt between his thighs and kissed his lower belly, a whisper of reverence. “Beautiful,” Tony murmured against his skin. “Every inch of you, princess.”
Bucky’s breath hitched, his chest tightening. No one had ever looked at him like that, like he was something precious, worth worshipping.
Tony slid his hands along Bucky’s thighs, gently parting them. Bucky couldn’t help but blush. He was so incredibly wet already, his small omega cock twitching slightly over his folds. Tony opened him up as if he were meant to be feasted upon. “Let me taste you,” he murmured, voice tight with restraint.
Bucky whimpered, his hips shifting in silent permission.
Tony leaned in, inhaling deeply, growling low in his throat. “God, you smell so good, baby girl. Fuck.”
The alpha’s mouth was hot and skilled, tongue brushing over slick folds, teasing the little nub that made Bucky’s eyes roll back into his skull, over and over, savoring every sound Bucky made. Bucky gasped, gripping the sheets, his metal hand denting the headboard as Tony worked him open with slow precision. The care was dizzying. Tony wasn’t rushing, wasn’t trying to prove anything. He was worshipping him, making him feel adored, desired.
It was embarrassing how quick Tony could push him over the edge with just a few moves of skilled tongue, having Bucky writhing on it, trembling and gasping Tony’s name, his cunt throbbing and spilling more than he ever did outside of heat. The alpha pressed gentle kisses to his thighs, murmuring soft endearments that made Bucky’s chest ache with warmth.
“Ti amo così tanto,” Tony whispered against his skin, words Bucky didn’t understand but felt all the same.
“Turn over, princess,” Tony murmured, voice hoarse but steady. “Wanna hold you while I’m inside you.”
Bucky flushed, but obeyed, letting Tony guide him onto his side, back pressed against the alpha’s broad chest. Tony’s arm curled protectively around his waist, hand splayed over the soft of his stomach.
“My baby girl, so obedient,” Tony said, pressing kisses along his neck as he slowly pushed inside.
Bucky whined, high pitched and wanton, feeling his ears burning up with the praise. He was so, so sensitive, his walls quivering around the abundant girth of his alpha’s cock, the stretch making him feel a full-bodied shiver. But it was good. It was grounding. He reached back, fingers tangling in Tony’s hair, pulling him closer.
“Doll… Alpha, please”, Bucky’s voice cracked, needy.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Always. I’m gonna fill you up so good.”
Tony moved slow, deep, rocking into him with a steady rhythm that made Bucky feel consumed, not just desired. His alpha scent wrapped around him, thick and soothing, easing the tension in his muscles, making him pliant, putty in his alpha’s calloused hands.
“You’re so perfect like this,” Tony murmured against his ear, voice tight with his own groans. “Carrying my pup, letting me take care of you. Can’t wait to see you get so round with it.”
Bucky moaned softly, pressing back into Tony’s thrusts, overwhelmed by the closeness, the tenderness. Every movement screamed mine, safe, loved.
Tony’s hand slid lower, stroking his small cock in time with his thrusts, coaxing pleasure from him with every touch. Bucky squirmed, a choked sob leaving his mouth, fingers tightening on his alpha’s sweat-clad hair.
When Bucky came again, it was with a soft cry, his body clenching around Tony like a live wire, toes curling and meager cum spilling in his alpha’s hand. Tony’s loud groan and snapping thrusts preceded warmth spilling deep inside him, the knot taking place and making Bucky so overwhelmingly full he tumbled to the edge once more.
Tony held him close through it, murmuring sweet nonsense in his ear, his scent heavy with love and possessiveness.
After the knot deflated, Tony cleaned him gently, careful and thorough, before curling around him again, one hand resting protectively over Bucky’s belly.
“You okay?” Tony whispered.
Bucky nodded, exhausted but content. “Better than okay, doll.”
Tony kissed the back of his neck, breathing him in. “We’re doing this together, Buck. You’re not alone anymore.”
Bucky closed his eyes, thinking maybe Tony knowing wasn’t such a bad idea in the end.
-
It happened on a Tuesday.
The kind of day where nothing seemed out of the ordinary: morning training drills, lunch in the communal kitchen, paperwork that piled high enough to bury even Steve. Bucky had planned to keep to himself, slip back upstairs before anyone noticed how much bigger he was showing these days.
But of course Tony had other plans.
Bucky had just entered the kitchen when Tony walked in behind him, set down a tray of coffee mugs, and — like it was the most natural thing in the world — slid an arm around Bucky’s waist. Not just around him, either. His hand spread wide over the swell of Bucky’s belly, fingers splayed possessively.
The room went silent.
Clint’s fork clattered to the table. Natasha arched a brow, expression unreadable but sharp. Sam blinked twice. Steve froze mid-sentence, his pen dangling in the air. Even Thor looked baffled, head tilting like a confused labrador.
“Uh,” Sam finally said, gesturing between them. “So… this a thing now?”
Bucky’s cheeks went hot. His first instinct was to jerk away, but Tony’s grip tightened fractionally, steady and sure. His scent rolled out calm, possessive, claiming. Posturing.
“Yes,” Tony said smoothly, like it was obvious, like it had always been this way. “And before anyone asks– yes, Barnes is glowing. Yes, it’s mine. And yes, we’re very happy. Right, princess?”
Bucky wanted to strangle him and kiss him all at once. “Tony…” he muttered, but when he looked up, Tony’s eyes were warm. Grounding.
How could Bucky even deny his big, puppy eyes? He wondered if their pup would have the same eyes. He hoped they did.
“Yeah,” Bucky said softly, letting himself lean into the arm around him. “We’re happy, doll.”
For a long moment, the team just stared. Then Clint threw his hands up. “Called it!”
“You did not call it,” Natasha said flatly.
“Okay, I suspected it,” Clint amended.
Steve cleared his throat, setting his pen down carefully. His gaze was steady, though his jaw was tight. “You’re sure about this, Buck? Both of you?”
“Never been more sure of anything,” Tony said before Bucky could answer, his hand tightening protectively around Bucky’s waist. His tone left no room for argument.
Steve studied them both for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright. Then… I’m happy for you.”
Relief spread through the room, awkward tension breaking. Sam grinned, Thor clapped Tony on the back hard enough to make him stumble, and Natasha gave Bucky the faintest of approving smiles.
It wasn’t perfect. There were still questions, still fears, still danger in the life they lived. But for the first time in months, Bucky felt like he could breathe.
That night, they lay curled together in bed, Tony spooned around Bucky’s back, one hand resting as always on his belly. Never seemed to left it, these last weeks.
“You didn’t have to tell them like that,” Bucky murmured, voice sleepy.
“Sure I did,” Tony replied, kissing the back of his neck. “You think I’m gonna let them keep guessing? No way. You’re mine, and I wanted everyone to know it.”
Bucky huffed a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm. Maybe. But you love me anyway.”
Bucky’s hand covered Tony’s, threading their fingers together over his stomach. His heart thudded heavy in his chest, but lighter, too. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I do.”
The words hung between them, fragile and strong all at once. Tony kissed his shoulder, his voice a rough whisper in the dark.
“Good. Because I love you too, princess. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Bucky closed his eyes, warmth spreading through him, safe and steady. For the first time in a long, long time, the future didn’t scare him.
Tayefeth Sun 31 Aug 2025 04:43PM UTC
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ironmom Sun 31 Aug 2025 04:52PM UTC
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