Maybe We Should Have Pillow Fights More Often
You walked the hallway for the fifth–or was it the sixth?–time. You cursed your past self for thinking that playing hide and seek with a former assassin would be a good idea. You’d been wandering around your apartment for the past twenty minutes. Wherever he was, it was a damn good hiding spot. You sighed, making your way to your shared bedroom and sitting down on the edge.
“Okay, I get it. You’re the best at hide and seek. I give upppp!” you yelled, lying back on the bed. Upon looking up, you saw a certain metal-armed boyfriend of yours on the ceiling. He was grinning widely. “Okay, how the hell–” You cut yourself off, shaking your head and watching as he landed flawlessly on the floor. “I don’t even want to know. This is unfair.”
“Oh, come on, that was only round one,” he said cheekily, winking at you. Clearly he wanted to play again so he’d win again.
“I don’t care. You know what we should play, though?”
“What?”
“Tag!” you yelled, tapping his arm and taking off running down the hallway. You were grateful that there was more than one doorway in almost every room. You quickly swerved through the rooms, passing by him swiftly and teasing, “And you call yourself a master assassin! You can’t even catch your girlfriend!”
You quickly ran toward the bedroom, rolling under the bed so he wouldn't be able to see you. It took him an entire minute to figure out that you had to be in this room somewhere. He looked in the closets and everywhere else that there was a you-sized space, but to no avail. You had to hold in a giggle from under the bed so that you wouldn’t give away your hiding spot.
It seemed like he seriously couldn’t find you. He was standing next to the bed. You smirked to yourself as you reached out and grabbed his ankle.
“Holy shit!” he yelled, jumping away from the bed.
You were almost laughing too hard to function, but managed to roll out from under the bed. You stood, or attempted to, as you were doubled over in laughter.
“This guy! You were an infamous assassin!”
“I just...lost my touch, probably,” he said shamefully.
“You were just hanging from the ceiling ten minutes ago!”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He leaned against the bed, reaching across subtly to grab a pillow off it, and then suddenly hit you hard in the face with it.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?”
You grabbed a pillow and tried to hit him back, but you couldn’t reach him across the bed. You kneeled on top of the fluffy duvet and managed to get a hard strike to his shoulder. He overdramatically fell over onto the bed, and you tackled him, swinging your leg over his hips and pinning his hands above his head.
“Oh no, I’m trapped!” he said mockingly.
“Indeed you are,” you said, leaning down to kiss him on the lips. He kissed back with more fervor than you’d expected, and one innocent kiss turned into clothes on the floor and Bucky on top of you, his lips working your neck expertly as he slowly thrust into you.
You moaned as he started kissing the sweet spot on your neck and started kissing down toward your collar bone, his left hand pinning your hands above your head, and his right holding your waist. Your hands had tangled themselves into his hair, pulling gently and earning moans from him. Bucky absolutely loved having his hair pulled.
He started nipping at your neck, and you groaned, the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach. “Nnngh, Bucky, I’m close...”
“I know, I can feel it, doll,” he murmured into your neck, his Brooklyn accent coming through thickly. His right hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing in slow circles.
“Nnnngh, fuck, Bucky, God...” you whined, your orgasm hitting you hard. He followed not a second after, burying his face in your neck as he let off a low groan.
When you were both done, he pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Though you didn’t mind the weight.
“Maybe we should have pillow fights more often,” he said breathlessly.
“Maybe we should.”