MynameisJamesBuchananBarnes

Writer and reader of fanfiction of the Avengers and its actors 30F

[thememedaddy]

[thememedaddy]

[novamariestark]

This Is Why We Knock

Summary: Tony's soundproof tech protects people's ears, not their eyes.

Warnings: some smut, poorly written story, unprotected sex (wrap it up), pet names (Sweetheart, baby), proofread but i'm not good at that

Word count: 455 (flash-fic)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

[A/N] Just a slight idea I wrote. I started off on a roll but it quickly fizzled. I wanted to post something though so I might extend it later when inspiration strikes again.

Bucky was good in bed. Everyone in the tower knew that by now because you weren’t exactly quiet. How could you be though? You had never been fucked this good in your life. You’ve truly been missing out. You’re making up for lost time with all those exes of yours and climbing on Bucky every chance you get. It got so bad that Tony actually soundproofed both of your rooms.

Of course, sometimes you didn’t make it to either of your rooms which caused you to be temporarily banned from that area “until further notice”

Bucky actually preferred to have you in one of your rooms, cause then he could see if he could make you scream any louder. One of these days he is actually going to split you in two. At least that’s how it felt.

Today was no different. Bucky had you faced down on the mattress, relentlessly pounding into you. His fingertips gripping your hips so hard they were surely going to leave permanent dents.

You were boneless. Sprawled over the mattress, your ass only now slightly in the air since your knees gave out. You were gone. As far as you were concerned right now, you were in space due to how many stars you were seeing. All you could do was moan and scream and let out the occasional heavy breath.

The soundproof system Tony built worked for the ears of the people on the outside. But there was a slight flaw. Some people just don’t think before entering.

You were too lost in pleasure to even process what was happening other than the feeling of Bucky’s thick, long cock buried deep between your thighs but you felt him slow down.

"OH MY GOD!" the intruder yelled.

“Can I help you?” you heard Bucky’s deep voice say with a tinge of irritation laced in it. You felt a cool piece of fabric get draped over your sweaty bare skin and a hand placed gently on your lower back to keep it from moving.

“Can you lock the door?” you heard the other person say but you still couldn’t tell who.

“The door was locked!”

“Bucky,” you whined, moving your hips against him.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m here,” he whispered, his other hand reaching to gently stroke your hair. His head snaps to the intruder, “Get out, Wilson!”

“You two need to calm down,” he said before rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

“Now” he started as he removed the sheet. He flipped you over onto your back and hovered over you, “Where were we?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. Bucky let out a deep chuckle at your neediness.

“Don’t worry, baby. You know I’ll take care of you,”

[paulescalante]

If you support gay marriage reblog this. If you're on the homophobic side, keep scrolling.

[hhhhhorses]

As a bisexual, it sickens me that some people WILL keep scrolling.

[kandis-mom]

I’m currently in one lol

[yoko-goto]

Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

[cj-can-art]

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

[mapofyourstars]

Magneto was Right, X-Men: The Last Stand

[slutdier]

𝑺𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑬𝑫𝑫𝒀 Bucky Barnes has been secretly obsessed with you for months, the soft-spoken, innocent-looking Avenger who blushes at dirty jokes, so he gifts you a teddy bear with a hidden camera inside, convincing himself it’s just for protection.

new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!new avenger!reader

word count : 10.9k

warnings 18+ : porn with very little plot, no use of y/n, significant age gap (bucky is over 100, reader is early 20s), non-consensual filming (hidden camera in teddy bear), mutual corruption, innocence kink with fake innocence, size difference, praise/degradation, rough sex, face riding, deepthroating, creampie, cum play, exhibitionism, risky public sex, spanking, choking, possessive behavior, dirty talk, power-play dynamics, reader is portrayed as younger, soft, and “innocent” on the surface while being highly sexually proactive, slight anal play, sex tapes

author’s note : hii!! this was based on two requests I got so I just combined them into one bigger fanfic <33 hope you don’t mind and enjoyyy!!

Bucky couldn’t stop staring.

The compound kitchen was quiet this afternoon, sunlight slanting through the tall windows and catching on the steam rising from your mug. You were perched on one of the high stools, legs tucked under you, completely absorbed in the mission report glowing on your tablet.

That oversized cream sweater you loved so much had slipped off one shoulder again, exposing the soft curve of your collarbone and the delicate strap of whatever tiny top you wore underneath. Every time you reached for your pen or stretched slightly to grab the mug, the hem of those tiny sleep shorts rode higher up the backs of your thighs, just enough to make his mouth go dry.

You bit your lip in concentration, a small furrow forming between your brows as you highlighted something important. So focused. So unaware.

Or at least… that’s what he kept telling himself.

Bucky’s metal fingers flexed around his own coffee mug, the ceramic creaking under the pressure. His cock had been half-hard for the last ten minutes, straining against his jeans from nothing more than the sight of you looking soft and sweet and far too young for the kind of thoughts running through his head.

He was over a century old. The Winter Soldier. A man with more blood on his hands than most people could comprehend. And here you were, in your early twenties, the youngest recruit to join the newly reformed Avengers team after the chaos following the Thunderbolts.

You’d come in like a quiet storm six months ago. Recruited straight out of a specialized training program after displaying rare tactical intuition and an almost eerie calm under pressure during a hostage situation in Eastern Europe. Yelena had vouched for you personally, impressed by how you’d de-escalated a room full of armed mercs without firing a single shot. The team had welcomed you with open arms, but Bucky… Bucky had felt something twist in his chest the moment he saw you.

You were so damn soft. You had a gentle voice and blushed at almost everything. You always wore those big oversized sweaters, like you were trying to hide inside them. The team loved teasing you and calling you the “baby Avenger.” Every time they did, Bucky’s protective instincts kicked in hard. He started stepping in more than he should, getting between you and any roughhousing during training, draping his jacket over your shoulders when the room got too cold, and glaring at anyone who made jokes that went too far.

He told himself it was because you needed protecting. The world was too sharp for someone like you.

But late at night, alone in his room, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. It wasn’t just protection. It was obsession. The way you moved, the way you smiled shyly when someone praised you, the way those innocent little habits made his blood run hot.

It was becoming a problem.

A few days later, Bucky finally cracked. He went looking for advice but he did it in the most roundabout way possible.

He’d cornered Yelena in the training room after sparring, both of them dripping sweat. She was wiping her face with a towel when he asked.

“So, Belova,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You’ve spent more time with the kid than most of us. She… like plushies? Stuffed animals? That sort of thing?”

Yelena slowly lowered the towel, one perfect eyebrow arching high. Her smirk turned sharp and knowing.

“Ohhh,” she drawled, clearly amused. “What’s this, Barnes? You got a little crush on our sweet baby Avenger?”

Bucky’s ears burned instantly. “Jesus, no,” he grunted, scowling. “It’s not like that. She’s young. The compound gets quiet during missions. I just thought something soft might help her sleep better.”

Yelena let out a sharp, delighted laugh.

“Sure, sure,” she teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Totally innocent. You’re just being a big protective grandpa, right? Nothing to do with the way you stare at her every time she walks into a room.”

Bucky crossed his arms, metal plates whirring. “You gonna help me or just give me shit?”

Yelena grinned wider. “She does like plushies. Soft ones. Get her something cute and innocent-looking. She’ll light up like a Christmas tree… and maybe you’ll finally stop pretending you’re not completely obsessed with her.”

That was all the excuse he’d needed.

The next afternoon, Bucky had slipped out alone and driven into the city. He’d spent nearly an hour in a quiet little boutique that sold handmade plush toys, the kind with premium soft fur and stitched, friendly faces. He’d stood there like an idiot, picking up bear after bear until he found the perfect one: medium-sized, warm brown fur, a gentle stitched smile, and big innocent button eyes that somehow reminded him of you when you were focused.

He’d paid cash, tucked it carefully into a plain bag, and told himself again that this was protective. Just something soft for you to hold when the team was scattered across the globe. Nothing more.

That same night, during the team’s weekly movie night, he found his moment.

The lights were dim, some loud action flick droning on the big screen. You were curled up at the end of the massive sectional in yet another oversized sweater, knees drawn to your chest, looking smaller and sweeter than ever. When a lull hit and someone complained about how empty the compound felt during long missions, Bucky cleared his throat.

“Hey, doll,” he said, voice low and casual. He pulled the plush bear from behind the couch where he’d stashed it. “Saw this in a shop the other day. Thought it’d keep you company when I’m gone on missions. Something soft to hold onto.”

Your eyes lit up instantly, that bright, genuine sparkle that always hit him like a gut punch. You sat up straighter, the sweater slipping further off your shoulder as you reached for it.

“Really? For me?” Your voice was soft, delighted, almost shy.

Bucky nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. Figured you might like it.”

You took the teddy bear and hugged it tight to your chest, pressing its plush head right between your breasts without thinking. The sight made his mind blank for a second, the soft fur sinking into your curves, the way your body curved around it so naturally.

You rose up on your toes right there in front of everyone and pressed a shy little peck to his cheek. “Thank you, Bucky. I love it already.”

The innocent brush of your lips against his stubble sent heat flooding straight to his groin. He had to shove his hands into his pockets and clench his jaw to stop himself from pulling you closer. His cock twitched hard, already leaking at the simple, sweet contact.

He almost came in his pants like a damn teenager.

Later, back in the privacy of his own room, Bucky locked the door, killed the lights, and set up the feed.

The hidden camera he had installed inside the teddy’s left eye was top-of-the-line, crystal-clear resolution, night vision and a wide-angle lens. He’d bought the bear, taken it straight back to his room, carefully pried open the stitching behind the left eye, and embedded the tiny device with steady hands. He’d even tested the feed twice to make sure the angle was perfect. Then he’d neatly re-stitched it so no one would ever notice.

Now he sat back in his chair, heart hammering against his ribs, laptop balanced on his thighs.

He told himself it was protective.

Just to keep an eye on his soft, young teammate. Make sure you were safe when no one else was around. You were too trusting. Too breakable.

That was the lie he repeated as the feed flickered to life and the image sharpened into perfect, devastating clarity.

There you were.

Fresh from the shower, skin still flushed pink and dewy, with nothing but a thin white towel wrapped loosely around your body. Bucky’s breath caught as you padded barefoot into frame, humming a soft little tune under your breath. The camera captured every detail in razor-sharp clarity, water droplets clinging to your collarbones, the way the towel barely clung to the swell of your breasts, threatening to slip with every step.

You stopped beside the nightstand, glancing down at the teddy bear with a gentle smile. Without hesitation, you unwrapped the towel and let it drop to the floor in a careless heap. Completely naked now, you looked so soft and vulnerable under the warm glow of your bedside lamp.

Bucky’s mouth went dry. His cock throbbed painfully in his sweatpants as he drank in the sight of your bare body, the gentle curve of your waist, the fullness of your breasts, the smooth plane of your stomach leading down to the soft patch of hair between your thighs. You were even more perfect than his fantasies had allowed.

You picked up the teddy bear with both hands, cradling it like something precious.

“Hey there, little guy,” you murmured, voice sweet and sleepy, barely above a whisper. “Bucky gave you to me today. Isn’t that nice? He’s always looking out for me… even when he thinks I don’t notice.”

You climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight and settled back against the pillows. With a contented sigh, you pulled the teddy tight against your chest, pressing its soft plush head right between your full, bare tits. The high-resolution camera caught everything in devastating detail, the way your soft breasts spilled and squished around the bear’s face, enveloping it completely, your nipples already tightening into stiff little peaks from the cool air and the gentle friction.

You squirmed a little, hugging the bear closer, nuzzling your cheek against its fuzzy head. “Mmm… you’re so soft. Just like I imagined he’d be. Warm and safe… I bet his arms would feel even better though.”

A small, innocent giggle escaped you as you adjusted the bear, pushing it deeper between your tits until only its ears poked out. Your fingers stroked its back absentmindedly while you continued talking to it in that soft, dreamy voice.

“Night missions are scary sometimes… but with you here, I won’t feel so alone. You’ll keep my secrets, right? Like how I think about Sergeant Barnes when the lights go out…” You yawned, eyelids growing heavy, and pressed one last gentle kiss to the top of the teddy’s head. “Goodnight, little bear. Tell Bucky I said thank you again… and that I feel safer already.”

Within minutes, you were asleep, completely naked, cuddling the teddy bear tightly between your breasts like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your breathing evened out, chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful rhythm, the bear still nestled warmly in your cleavage.

Bucky sat frozen in his chair, laptop screen glowing on his face. His hand had slipped into his sweatpants without conscious thought, wrapping around his aching cock. He stroked himself slowly, almost reverently, eyes glued to the feed.

“Fuck…” he muttered hoarsely, voice rough with disbelief and raw lust. “So innocent… yet so perfect.”

He watched the gentle rise and fall of your tits around the teddy’s face for what felt like hours, thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every slow pump. The contrast between your sweet, whispered words and the filthy images burning into his brain made his head spin. You looked so pure, talking to the bear like it was a friend, confessing little pieces of your feelings for him while pressing it between your bare breasts.

His protective instincts warred violently with the dark, possessive hunger clawing inside him.

She’s too young. Too soft. I shouldn’t be watching this.

But he couldn’t look away. His hand moved faster, breath coming in ragged bursts as he imagined replacing the teddy with his own face, burying himself between those soft tits while you whispered his name in that same gentle tone.

By the time he came, hard, spilling over his fist with a choked groan, he was shaking.

And he already knew he’d be back for more tomorrow night.

The next morning, Bucky was already in the compound kitchen nursing a black coffee when you padded in, still soft-eyed from sleep and wearing yet another oversized sweater that nearly reached mid-thigh. Your hair was slightly messy, cheeks carrying that fresh, just-woke-up flush, and in your arms you carried the teddy bear like it was the most precious thing in the world.

You spotted him immediately and your whole face lit up with that shy, genuine smile that always made his chest tighten.

“Bucky!” you called softly, hurrying over with bare feet whispering against the tile. You stopped right in front of him, hugging the teddy tighter to your chest, the same chest he’d spent half the night watching spill around that very bear. “Good morning. I just wanted to thank you again for this little guy.”

You lifted the teddy slightly, pressing its head against your sternum as you looked up at him with big, sparkling eyes. “I cuddled him all night. He’s so soft… exactly what I needed. I even talked to him a little before I fell asleep. Told him how nice it was that you thought of me.”

Bucky’s grip on his mug tightened until the ceramic threatened to crack. Heat flooded his face and his groin, at the innocent reminder. He could still see it so clearly in his mind: your naked body curled around the bear, tits enveloping its face, nipples hard, voice sleepy and sweet as you whispered confessions to it.

He forced a casual shrug, voice coming out rougher than he intended. “It’s nothing, doll. Really. Just didn’t want you feeling lonely when the team’s scattered on missions. Figured something soft to hold onto might help.”

You tilted your head, still smiling that pure, trusting smile, and stepped a little closer. The hem of your sweater brushed against his thigh as you stood between his spread legs where he sat on the stool.

“Well, it did help,” you said softly, almost shyly. “I slept better than I have in weeks. He felt… safe. Like having a tiny piece of you watching over me.” You gave the teddy a gentle squeeze, then rose up on your toes and pressed another light, grateful kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth this time. “Thank you, Sergeant. You’re always looking out for me.”

The word “Sergeant” in that sweet voice hit him like a live wire. Bucky swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to grab your waist and pull you into his lap right there in the kitchen. His cock was already stirring again, memories of last night’s footage flashing behind his eyes, your breasts spilling around the bear, the way you’d sighed and squirmed while talking to it.

He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. “Anytime, kid. You need anything… you just tell me, alright? I’ve got you.”

You nodded happily, still clutching the teddy, and gave him one last bright smile before turning to grab a yogurt from the fridge. As you stretched up on your toes to reach it, the sweater rode up just enough to flash the curve of your bare ass under the hem.

Bucky looked away quickly, jaw clenched, blood roaring in his ears.

Too young. Too soft. Too fucking pure.

But the lie was getting harder to believe with every passing second.

He already knew he’d be watching the feed again tonight.

And deep down, a darker part of him hoped you’d do more than just cuddle the bear this time.

That night, Bucky barely made it through dinner. His mind kept replaying the morning, your soft “thank you,” the way you’d kissed his cheek, the teasing flash of bare skin when you reached for the yogurt. By the time he locked himself in his room and pulled up the feed, his cock was already throbbing and leaking in his sweatpants.

The camera flickered to life.

You stepped into the room fresh from the shower, skin flushed pink and still glistening with droplets. Without hesitation, you let the towel drop to the floor the second the door shut, standing completely naked under the warm lamplight. Your full tits swayed gently as you moved, nipples already tight, and the soft patch of hair above your pussy caught the light.

Bucky’s mouth went dry.

You glanced at the teddy bear on the nightstand, a small, almost shy smile tugging at your lips. You climbed onto the bed, lay back against the pillows and spread your legs wide for the camera. With one hand you grabbed the teddy and tossed it carelessly onto the sheets beside your hip.

Your other hand immediately slid down your body. Fingers trailed through the slightly hairy mound above your slick cunt, then dipped between your puffy folds. You were already dripping. Two fingers pushed inside your tight hole with a wet, obscene sound, pumping slowly while your thumb rubbed messy circles over your swollen clit.

“Mmm… fuck,” you sighed, eyes fluttering half-closed. Your hips rolled lazily as you fingered yourself, the wet squelching noises filling the quiet room. The teddy lay ignored on the bed while you worked your pussy open, juices coating your fingers and dripping down toward your ass.

Bucky’s hand was already fisted around his thick cock, stroking in rhythm with every thrust of your fingers.

After a minute, you pulled your soaked fingers out with a filthy pop. You picked up the teddy again, biting your lip like you were embarrassed by how nasty you were about to get. Then you gave the teddy’s eye, the hidden camera the shyest little smirk, cheeks burning pink.

You pressed the bear’s plush face directly against your dripping cunt.

The second the soft fur touched your slightly hairy pussy, you squealed loudly, a high, pathetic sound that made Bucky’s cock twitch hard in his grip.

“Oh my god… that feels so fucking dirty,” you whimpered, voice breathy and trembling with shame and lust. You rocked your hips, grinding the teddy’s stitched mouth and nose right along your slick folds and through the soft hair covering your mound. The fur quickly grew dark and matted with your juices. “It’s so soft against me… but it’s so wrong. Using the bear he gave me like this…”

You moaned louder, pressing the plush face harder against your pussy, rubbing it up and down your slit. Your free hand grabbed one of your tits roughly, pinching and tugging your nipple while you humped the bear’s face with increasing desperation. Shy little squeals turned into needy, slutty moans as the fur dragged over your swollen clit again and again.

“So dirty… humping his innocent little gift… getting it all messy with my wet pussy…”

The embarrassment melted away completely. You shifted positions, straddling the teddy’s plush body properly. Bracing your hands on the mattress, you lowered your dripping cunt onto its soft belly and started riding it like a desperate whore.

Slow at first, rolling your hips in filthy circles, letting your slick pussy lips spread wide over the fur. Then faster. Harder. You fucked the innocent-looking bear like it was Bucky’s thick thigh, grinding your clit against the plush surface with wet, obscene sounds.

Your moans grew louder, thighs flexing as you humped faster and faster.

“Fuck… feels so good…” you gasped, back arching.

Your orgasm slammed into you without warning. Your thighs shook violently, a broken cry tearing from your throat as you ground down hard against the teddy’s belly. Your pussy clenched and pulsed, gushing slick all over the soft brown fur and leaving a big, shiny wet spot that soaked deep into the plush. You kept riding through the aftershocks, hips jerking erratically, small whimpers and squeaks spilling from your lips until your body finally collapsed forward, panting and trembling, the ruined teddy still trapped beneath your soaked, hairy pussy.

Bucky came with a guttural groan at the exact same moment, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist as he stared at the obscene wet mess you’d made on his gift.

“Jesus Christ, doll…” he rasped to the empty room, chest heaving. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

He kept watching as you caught your breath, your naked body still draped over the teddy, the fur between your legs dark and glistening with your cum.

Bucky didn’t stop at the live feed.

After you collapsed panting on the bed with the teddy still trapped beneath your soaked cunt, he immediately rewound the footage. He watched both nights back-to-back on a loop, the first night’s soft, innocent tit-cuddling mixed with the filthy second night: you fingering your dripping pussy with the bear tossed aside, shyly smirking before pressing its plush face between your legs, grinding it desperately against your cunt while whimpering about how dirty it felt, then straddling and riding the innocent-looking bear like a desperate little slut until you left a big, shiny wet spot soaked into its fur.

He jerked off furiously to both clips, hand flying over his thick cock, metal fingers digging into his thigh hard enough to dent the skin. His breathing was ragged, low growls escaping his throat as he stroked himself raw.

“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered hoarsely, eyes glued to the screen. “Sweet little thing… humping the gift I gave you like a filthy girl.”

He came harder than he had in decades, the first orgasm ripping through him with a choked groan as he watched you grind the teddy’s face on your hairy pussy, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist and onto his stomach. He didn’t stop. He kept stroking through the sensitivity, chasing a second release while the footage played again, this time focusing on the way your thighs shook and your slick dripped down the bear’s belly.

The second orgasm hit him even harder, leaving him shaking and breathless, chest heaving as he slumped back in his chair.

For a long moment, the only sound in his room was his ragged breathing and the faint wet sounds still playing from the laptop.

Then, on the screen, you slowly sat up after your own climax. Your naked body glistened with a light sheen of sweat, thighs shiny from your release. You caught your breath, staring down at the ruined teddy between your legs with a small, satisfied smile.

You leaned forward, looking straight into the teddy’s eye, directly into the hidden camera and gave it a wicked little smirk that sent ice down Bucky’s spine.

Your lips moved clearly, mouthing the words with deliberate slowness:

“Goodnight, Sergeant.”

You reached out, turned off the bedside lamp and the feed went dark.

Bucky froze.

His hand was still loosely wrapped around his spent cock, cum cooling on his skin, but every muscle in his body locked up. The room felt suddenly too quiet. His heart hammered against his ribs as the realization crashed over him.

Did you just…?

Had you known the camera was there the entire time?

You’d known Bucky was watching you for weeks.

It started small, innocent enough that anyone else might have missed it. But you were an Avenger. You’d been trained to notice the little things: the way his metal fingers would twitch against his thigh when you “accidentally” bent over in one of your short skirts to pick something up, the subtle shift in his stance, the way his jaw clenched like he was fighting a war inside his own head.

You noticed how his eyes would darken, pupils blowing wide, whenever you licked whipped cream slowly off your finger during movie nights, letting your tongue drag deliberately along the pad of your thumb while maintaining soft, shy eye contact with him. He always looked away first, pretending to focus on the screen but you caught the way his breath hitched every single time.

So you leaned into it.

You played the part of the sweet, innocent little recruit perfectly, the youngest on the team, soft-spoken, always hiding in oversized sweaters that made you look even smaller and more delicate than you already were. You blushed on command at dirty jokes, giggled shyly when someone teased you, and acted like you’d never had a filthy thought in your life.

But behind closed doors? You were anything but innocent.

In the privacy of your room, you destroyed yourself thinking about him. You’d ride your biggest dildo for hours, the thick, veined one that stretched you open and made you cry out while imagining it was Bucky’s cock. You’d read the filthiest Bucky fanfics on your tablet late at night, touching yourself to stories where the Winter Soldier pinned you down and ruined his soft little teammate. You even recorded voice memos on your phone: moaning his name breathily while you fingered yourself, whispering things like “Bucky… please, Sergeant… I’m so wet for you” just so you could listen back to them later and come again.

You were a menace in private and you loved every second of it.

The teddy bear had been the perfect opportunity.

The moment Bucky handed it to you that night, you’d clocked the hidden camera. Your trained eyes had spotted the tiny lens glinting inside the left button eye almost instantly, Avengers-level observation skills mixed with your own natural tech-savvy side. The weight was just slightly off, the stitching around the eye a little too precise. You knew exactly what he’d done.

And instead of calling him out or smashing the damn thing, you’d smiled sweetly, hugged the bear to your chest, and decided to give Sergeant Barnes the show of a lifetime.

You started “innocent” on purpose.

The first night you’d dropped the towel, climbed into bed naked, and cuddled the teddy tightly between your bare tits, pressing its soft plush head right into your cleavage, letting your nipples harden against the fur while you sighed and talked sweetly to it. You wanted to tease him. To make him think you were still his pure, soft little girl.

But the second night? You escalated.

You’d fingered yourself with the bear tossed aside, then shyly smirked right into the camera before grinding the teddy’s face against your pussy until you were squealing and whimpering about how dirty it felt. Then you’d straddled it and ridden the innocent-looking plush like a desperate slut, soaking its belly with your cum while moaning for the camera.

All of it calculated.

All of it for him.

You wanted to see how long it would take the big, protective super-soldier to break. How long before his “I’m just keeping her safe” excuse crumbled and he admitted how badly he wanted to ruin the sweet young thing he’d been obsessing over.

So far, it was working better than you could have hoped.

The next morning, when you’d walked into the kitchen still carrying the teddy and thanked him again with that shy little kiss on the cheek, you’d seen the hunger in his eyes. You’d felt the way his body had tensed when you mentioned cuddling the bear all night.

He was already cracking.

And you couldn’t wait to push him further.

The next day, the gym was mostly empty after the afternoon training session.

You’d just finished sparring with Ava and were wiping sweat from your neck with a towel when you felt that heavy stare burning into your back.

Bucky was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, metal fingers drumming restlessly. His jaw was tight, eyes darker than usual. He’d been watching you the entire time.

You pretended not to notice at first, bending slowly to pick up your water bottle and letting your tight workout shorts ride up. When you straightened and turned, he was already moving toward you.

He cornered you near the mats, using his larger frame to shield you both from view. His voice dropped low and rough, almost strained.

“That teddy…” he started, eyes flicking down to your lips before locking back on yours. “You like it?”

You blinked up at him with wide, innocent doe eyes, cheeks flushing a perfect shade of pink. One hand came up to twirl a strand of your damp hair around your finger as you tilted your head sweetly.

“Oh, I love it Bucky,” you said in the softest, most angelic voice. “It’s so cuddly and warm. I slept with it between my boobs the first night… all soft and squished right there against my bare skin.” You bit your lip shyly, letting your gaze drop for a moment like you were embarrassed, then looked back up at him through your lashes. “And the second night… I had it between my legs.”

Bucky’s metal arm twitched hard at his side, fingers curling into a tight fist with a quiet mechanical whir. His breath hitched visibly.

You continued in that same sweet, breathy tone, leaning in just a little closer.

“It makes me feel really good, you know? So soft rubbing against me… I kept moving it around until it felt even better. I didn’t want to stop.”

His brain completely short-circuited.

You watched the exact moment it happened, his pupils blew wide, his mouth parted slightly, and the muscle in his jaw jumped violently. He looked like he was picturing every second: your naked tits hugging the bear, then your slick pussy grinding desperately against its soft belly.

“I… fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse and low. “Doll, you can’t just- you shouldn’t be telling me that.”

“But it’s true,” you replied innocently, blinking up at him with big eyes. “It felt so nice and warm between my legs. Made me all tingly and wet. You picked such a good one, Bucky. Thank you again.”

He looked like he was two seconds away from pinning you against the wall right there in the gym.

From that moment on, the tension between you became unbearable, at least for him.

During the evening briefing, when you “accidentally” dropped your pen under the table, you made sure to brush your ass slowly against the front of his pants as you straightened back up. Bucky stiffened behind you, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Later, when the team was reaching for files on the high shelf, he stepped in close behind you, pressing his much larger body flush against your back “to help.” His metal hand settled on your waist, gripping a little too tightly, while his hips aligned perfectly with the curve of your ass. You felt the thick, hard outline of his cock twitch against you.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you arched your back just slightly, pressing your ass back into him with a soft, innocent hum as you grabbed the folder.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered sweetly, glancing over your shoulder. “You’re always so helpful… and so warm.”

His fingers dug into your waist for half a second before he forced himself to step back, breathing ragged.

“Careful, doll,” he muttered under his breath, voice strained. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You just smiled shyly and twirled your hair again. “I don’t know what you mean, Sergeant. I’m just being grateful.”

By the end of the day, Bucky was losing his goddamn mind.

You could see it in the way he kept clenching and unclenching his metal fist, the way his eyes followed your every movement like a man slowly realizing he’d been outplayed by the sweet, soft girl he thought he was protecting.

And you were loving every single second of it.

Back in his room that night, the lights were off and the only glow came from his laptop screen. He sat on the edge of his bed, sweatpants shoved down just enough, cock already hard and leaking as he obsessively rewatched both clips on loop.

First the soft innocent night, your naked body curling around the teddy, pressing its plush head deep between your full, bare tits until they spilled and squished around its face, nipples hardening against the fur while you sighed and talked sweetly to it.

Then the filthy second night, you fingering your dripping pussy with the bear tossed aside, that shy little smirk right into the camera before you pressed the teddy’s face between your legs, grinding its soft fur against your slightly hairy cunt and whimpering about how dirty it felt. The way you straddled it afterward, riding the innocent plush like a desperate slut, hips rolling faster and faster until you soaked its belly with a shiny wet spot.

He couldn’t stop.

His hand flew over his thick cock, stroking himself raw, metal fingers occasionally joining to squeeze his balls as the footage played again and again. Low, broken groans filled the room.

“Fuck… look at you, doll,” he rasped, eyes glued to the high-res shot of your tits hugging the teddy. “So sweet and soft… and then you turn into such a filthy little thing.”

He rewound to the riding session, watching your pussy drag wetly over the bear’s belly, thighs trembling as you humped it harder. His strokes grew frantic, thumb smearing the steady leak of pre-cum over the head.

“Making my gift all messy… grinding that pretty hairy cunt on it like you needed to be fucked…”

He came hard the first time, spilling over his fist with a guttural groan, but he didn’t stop. He kept stroking through the sensitivity, chasing another release while the clips looped. The contrast between your innocent “I love it, Bucky” smile in the kitchen and the way you’d moaned while riding his gift was driving him insane.

He was still panting, cock half-hard again in his slick fist, when a soft knock sounded at his door.

Before he could even pull his sweatpants up properly, the door opened.

You slipped inside wearing nothing but his oversized black hoodie, the one he’d left in the laundry room days ago and thigh-high black socks that hugged your legs. The hoodie swallowed your smaller frame, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh, and it was obvious you had nothing underneath. Your hair was loose, cheeks still slightly flushed.

You closed the door behind you with a quiet click, then walked straight to his bed without hesitation. Bucky froze, laptop still open beside him, the paused footage of you riding the teddy glowing on the screen.

You pushed him back gently but firmly until he was sitting against the headboard, then climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs. The moment your bare pussy pressed against the hard line of his cock through his sweatpants, you felt him twitch violently beneath you.

You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his stubble, and looked him dead in the eyes with a wicked little smile.

“Saw the little red light in my teddy’s eye, Sergeant,” you purred, voice sweet but dripping with teasing satisfaction. “Naughty, naughty boy.”

Bucky’s breath caught, his metal hand instinctively gripping your waist under the hoodie. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, caught completely off guard.

“You… knew?” he rasped, voice rough and strained.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you rocked your hips once, slowly, letting him feel how wet you already were.

“Mhm,” you whispered. “I knew the second you gave it to me. But I decided to give you a show instead… starting all sweet and innocent with my tits, then riding it like a desperate little slut the next night. Did you like watching me make your gift all messy?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze again, still cupping his face, your voice dropping into that soft, angelic tone you knew drove him crazy.

“Every time I pressed its soft little face between my legs and rode it… I closed my eyes and pretended it was you underneath me. Your tongue, your mouth, your stubble rubbing against my wet pussy.”

You didn’t give him time to recover.

Still straddling his lap, you started grinding slowly on his clothed cock, rolling your hips in lazy, deliberate circles. The oversized hoodie rode up your thighs as you moved, and the only thing between your bare, wet pussy and his throbbing erection was the thin fabric of his sweatpants. You could feel every thick inch of him twitch and harden further beneath you.

Bucky’s metal hand tightened on your waist, the other gripping your hip like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Tell me the truth, Sergeant…” you purred, still grinding your soaked pussy slowly over his clothed cock, “how many times did you cum watching your sweet, innocent little teammate hump the teddy you gave her like a needy whore?”

He groaned, head falling back against the headboard, but you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

“Don’t get shy now,” you whispered, grinding harder, letting your clit rub against the ridge of his cock. “I know you watched both nights. Tell me… how many times did you jerk off to me cuddling your gift between my tits? All soft and bare, nipples getting hard while I hugged it tight?”

Bucky’s breath hitched, his cock jerking hard under you.

“And then the second night…” You leaned in, lips brushing his ear as you rocked faster. “How many times did you stroke that big cock while I rode it like a desperate slut? Grinding my wet, little pussy all over its soft belly until I left a big shiny mess? Did you come when I squealed about how dirty it felt?”

“Fuck… doll-” His voice was wrecked, raw and broken.

You smiled innocently, still grinding slow and filthy on him. “Use your words, Bucky. Be honest. How many loads did you spill watching your sweet, innocent girl turn into a filthy little hypocrite on the teddy you gave her?”

He swallowed hard, eyes dark with lust and shame. “Three… maybe four,” he admitted hoarsely. “Couldn’t stop. Kept rewinding to the part where you pressed its face between your legs… fuck, the way you whimpered ‘so dirty’ while you humped it-”

You rewarded him with a particularly slow, wet grind, letting him feel how soaked you were.

“Good boy,” you cooed. “See? Wasn’t so hard to confess.”

Before he could say anything else, you climbed higher up his body, knees bracketing his head. You reached over to the nightstand where you’d dropped the teddy when you first entered, and placed it carefully on the pillow beside his head, its camera eye pointed straight at the action.

Bucky’s eyes widened when he realized what you were doing.

You lowered yourself onto his face without warning, smothering him with your dripping pussy. His groan vibrated straight through your core as you settled your weight on him, thighs framing his face.

“Mmm… that’s it,” you moaned, already rocking your hips. You reached down and threaded your fingers through his long hair, holding him in place. “You wanted innocent? I’ll give you innocent… while I fuck your face.”

You started riding him slowly at first, dragging your slick folds and soft pubic hair over his mouth and tongue. Bucky didn’t hesitate, he dove in like a starving man, tongue licking broad stripes through your pussy, sucking on your clit with filthy, wet sounds.

You moaned louder for the teddy’s camera, voice breathy and sweet.

“Look at you, Sergeant… buried under your soft little teammate’s cunt. Does it taste as innocent as you thought?” You rolled your hips faster, grinding down harder, smothering him with every movement. “I bet you jerked off thinking about this exact thing while you watched me on that teddy.”

Bucky growled into your pussy, the vibrations making your thighs tremble. His metal hand came up to grip your ass, metal fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you even closer, tongue fucking into your tight hole while his nose rubbed against your clit.

You whimpered, riding his face with increasing desperation, the wet sounds echoing in the room.

“That’s it… eat it just like that. Show the camera how much you love your naughty little liar’s pussy.”

Three days had passed since that first explosive night in Bucky’s room.

Three days of delicious, dangerous sneaking around.

You’d barely been able to keep your hands off each other. Quick, filthy kisses in the elevator when the doors closed. Bucky pinning you against the wall in the training room after everyone else left, metal fingers slipping under your skirt to tease your soaked panties while you tried not to moan loud enough for the team to hear. You’d sent him a short video clip during a briefing, your fingers buried in your pussy while whispering his name and watched him nearly choke on his coffee across the table.

The tension was unbearable. The secret made everything hotter.

Tonight, you’d both finally snapped.

You’d slipped into Bucky’s room after midnight, heart racing with the thrill of almost getting caught by Alexei on the way over. The moment the door locked, clothes started coming off but not before you pulled out the cameras.

“Tonight we do it right,” you whispered, eyes sparkling with wicked excitement. “Full performance. No holding back.”

You two set up the cameras together like twisted partners in crime. The teddy bear was placed on a chair in the corner like a perverted audience member, its red light blinking steadily. A proper tripod camera was positioned at the foot of the bed for a wide, clear angle, and you even added a smaller angle cam on the nightstand for close-ups. Both of you checked the framing, making sure every filthy detail would be captured perfectly.

Once everything was rolling, you turned to Bucky with a sweet, innocent smile that didn’t match the heat in your eyes.

“Sit on your hands, Sergeant. Don’t move them until I say.”

He obeyed, sliding his hands under his thighs, muscles straining with barely-contained need. His cock was already rock-hard and leaking against his stomach.

You stood in the center of the frame and began the slowest, most torturous strip tease imaginable.

Inch by agonizing inch, you peeled Bucky’s oversized black hoodie up your body, revealing every curve. When the fabric finally cleared your head, you were left wearing nothing but a tiny pair of baby-pink lace panties with a delicate little bow sitting right above your mound. The cameras caught everything, the way your full tits bounced softly as you moved, the gentle sway of your hips, the soft patch of hair peeking out from the edges of the lace.

You danced for the cameras like a filthy little performer.

Hands cupping and squeezing your breasts, thumbs circling your hardening nipples as you looked straight into the tripod lens.

“Remember when you first started watching me, Sergeant?” you asked in that soft, breathy voice, looking straight into the tripod lens. “I noticed it right away… the way your eyes would linger when my sweater slipped off my shoulder, how your metal fingers twitched every time I bent over in those short skirts.”

You turned slowly, arching your back and sliding your hands down your body.

“I started touching myself more after that. Humping my pillows at night, riding my biggest dildos while moaning your name… pretending it was you.”

Bucky’s breath hitched audibly from the bed.

“Dildos?” he rasped, voice strained.

You gave the camera a shy little smirk, then glanced back at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed sweetly, sliding one hand down to rub slow circles over your panties, letting the cameras see the growing wet spot. “Big ones. The kind that stretch me open and make me cry. I’d fuck myself for hours thinking about you… and then you gave me that teddy.”

You spread your legs wider, still playing with yourself over the thin lace. “So I decided to give you a real show instead.”

Your fingers rubbed slow, teasing circles over your panties, letting both cameras clearly see the growing wet spot darkening the fabric.

“I got so fucking wet knowing you were watching me, Bucky,” you breathed, voice sweet but dripping with lust. “Knowing that my big, protective Sergeant was stroking his cock raw to his sweet little teammate acting like a filthy whore.”

That was it.

Bucky snapped like a rubber band.

With a deep, animalistic growl, he lunged forward. His metal arm shot out and pinned both your wrists high above your head against the wall. His flesh hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse flutter and your pussy clench.

“You’re worse than me, doll,” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, lips brushing your ear. “Filthy little liar. Walking around the compound acting all soft and innocent while you’ve been corrupting me for weeks.”

He ripped the tiny lace panties off with one brutal yank, the delicate fabric tearing loudly. The cameras caught the moment perfectly, your bare, hairy pussy now on full display, already glistening with arousal.

Bucky dropped to his knees and buried his face between your thighs like a starving man.

He ate you out with loud, sloppy, obscene enthusiasm. His tongue dragged through your slick folds, sucking noisily on your swollen clit, growling and moaning into your cunt for both cameras to record. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room as he devoured you, tongue fucking deep into your hole, lips sucking your clit, metal arm still pinning your wrists while his flesh hand spread you open wider so the cameras could see everything.

“Fuck, this pussy tastes even better than it looked on that teddy,” he growled against your clit, the vibrations making your thighs shake. “So fucking wet and hairy… my sweet little hypocrite is dripping for me.”

You moaned loudly, hips grinding shamelessly against his face, riding his tongue while the cameras captured every second.

After several long, devastating minutes of him eating you like he wanted to drown in you, you tugged desperately at his hair.

“My turn, Sergeant.”

You dropped to your knees in front of him, eyes locked on the tripod camera as you pulled his thick, heavy cock free. It was veined, leaking steadily, the head flushed dark.

You looked straight into the lens with a sweet, angelic smile while you took him into your mouth.

You looked straight into the lens with a sweet, angelic smile while you took him into your mouth.

“Smile for the camera, Bucky,” you purred, lips brushing the swollen head. “Show everyone how the big bad Winter Soldier looks when his innocent little teammate chokes on his fat cock.”

You swallowed him down in one smooth, greedy motion, taking him to the hilt. Bucky groaned loudly, one hand tangling tight in your hair.

“Fuck- that’s it,” he rasped. “Take every inch, doll. Let them see how deep you can go.”

He started face-fucking you, slow and deep at first, then rougher. Without warning, he shoved his cock all the way down your throat and held it there.

“Hmpf!” you choked out around his thick length, eyes watering instantly.

Bucky groaned in pleasure at the sound. “Yeah? You like that? Choking on my cock for the camera like a good little whore?”

He pulled back just enough to let you breathe, then started playing with it, dragging his slick cock across your tongue, slapping the heavy head against your swollen lips, and pushing it back down your throat again.

You were drooling everywhere, spit running down your chin and dripping onto your tits.

Bucky finally pulled out with a wet pop, breathing hard.

“Get the balls too, baby,” he ordered, voice low and commanding. “Don’t be lazy.”

You whined, voice hoarse. “Buckyyy…”

He smirked, tapping his wet cock against your cheek.

“Huh? What’s wrong, princess? You don’t like doing all the work?” He gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “I watched you ride that teddy for hours like a desperate slut, and now you can’t even lick my balls? Open your fucking mouth.”

You whimpered but obeyed, leaning in to suck one of his heavy balls into your mouth, tongue swirling.

“That’s more like it,” he groaned, stroking his cock above your face. “Look at the camera while you do it. Show them what a filthy girl you really are.”

After a few moments he yanked you up by the hair, eyes dark with lust.

“Enough. Get on the fucking bed. Right now.”

You gave him that sweet, innocent little smile you knew drove him insane and crawled onto the mattress on all fours, ass swaying deliberately for both the tripod camera and the perverted teddy bear sitting on the nightstand, its hidden lens no doubt capturing every second of your dripping, needy cunt.

He didn’t give you time to settle.

Bucky flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, hooking your trembling legs over his broad, muscular shoulders and folding your smaller body in half until your knees nearly touched your ears. The angle was downright obscene, your soaked pussy completely exposed, lips puffy and glistening, clit swollen and twitching under the harsh lights of the cameras.

His cold metal hand wrapped tightly around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision spark with dizzy pleasure. The thick, veiny head of his cock nudged against your dripping entrance, smearing your slick all over himself.

“Beg for it,” he growled.

“Please, Bucky… fuck me. Ruin me for the cameras.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by brutal inch, stretching your tight walls until he bottomed out, heavy balls pressed flush against your ass. You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as he filled you completely.

“Look at the camera, baby,” he ordered, voice low and rough. He started thrusting in deep, powerful strokes that made your tits bounce violently with every snap of his hips. “Smile pretty for them. Show the world how innocent you pretend to be while you’re creaming all over Sergeant Barnes’ cock like a desperate little whore.”

He stared straight into your eyes, then glanced at the lens, metal fingers flexing tighter around your throat.

“Look how pretty you are getting absolutely ruined. Thought you were such a sweet, soft little thing… so pure. Now look at you- legs folded like a pretzel, pussy stretched obscenely around my fat cock, leaking all over the sheets.”

The wet, filthy squelching sounds of your soaked cunt filled the room as he pounded into you harder. Your juices dripped down to your asshole, making everything slick and messy.

But Bucky still wouldn’t let you cum.

You were losing your mind.

“Bucky- please,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “Please, I need it. I’m so close-”

He smirked, slowing his thrusts to a lazy grind, keeping you right on the edge. “What’s that, babydoll?”

You sobbed, desperation clawing at you. “Please, Buck… I need it. Please fuck me properly. I can’t- fuck- I need to cum so bad.”

Your hand slipped between your bodies, two fingers frantically rubbing your swollen clit before dipping lower, trying to push inside yourself around his thick cock.

Bucky’s eyes darkened.

“Don’t be pathetic,” he growled, metal hand snapping down to yank your wrist away. “Take those fingers out. Right now.”

You whined at the loss, but he didn’t let you suffer long.

He pulled your soaked fingers up to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low, filthy groan, tongue swirling around your digits like he was savoring every drop of your taste.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin. “Now keep your eyes on the camera.”

Then he slammed back into you, hard, deep, and relentless. The new angle had his cock dragging perfectly against that spot inside you with every brutal thrust. His metal hand stayed locked around your throat while his flesh hand pinned your wrist to the mattress.

“Begging and trying to fuck yourself on camera? Such a needy little slut,” he taunted, voice rough with arousal. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you.”

He fucked you like he was trying to break you, fast punishing strokes that made your whole body shake. Your moans turned into broken cries as the orgasm he’d been denying you finally crashed over you, hard enough to make your vision white out.

He yanked his cock out with a lewd pop, flipped you over roughly, and shoved your face down into the mattress. He yanked your hips up high, forcing your ass up in the air, the perfect humiliating angle for the tripod camera behind you.

“Arch your fucking back. Present that cunt like the slut you are.”

The second you obeyed, his metal hand came down hard on your ass with a loud, stinging crack. He spanked you mercilessly, again and again, turning your soft skin bright red and hot while he lined his throbbing cock up and slammed back inside you in one brutal, balls-deep thrust.

You screamed into the sheets as he railed you, hips snapping forward so violently the entire bed creaked and slammed against the wall. His metal hand kept spanking you in perfect rhythm with every punishing thrust, the sharp, burning sting blending into the deep, toe-curling pleasure of his cock dragging mercilessly against your g-spot.

“Fuck- yes, Sergeant!” you wailed, pushing back desperately to meet every savage stroke. “Harder! Mark me up- make my ass red and purple!”

He growled like a beast, gripping your hip bruisingly with his flesh hand while the metal one delivered another vicious slap that made your pussy clench hard around him.

“They’d fucking lose their minds if they knew their sweet little teammate was getting destroyed like a cheap whore from behind,” he snarled, voice dark and venomous. “Ass up high, pussy dripping down your thighs, begging to be bred while two cameras record every filthy second.”

Your cunt was making the most obscene, wet, sloppy sounds now, loud squelches every time he bottomed out, your creamy arousal coating his balls and dripping onto the sheets in messy strings.

You were shaking, desperate for control before you lost your mind completely.

You shoved Bucky onto his back and climbed on top, first turning away from him in reverse cowgirl so both cameras got the perfect, nasty view. You hovered over his massive cock, then sank down slowly, moaning like a pornstar as every thick inch disappeared into your greedy, slightly hairy pussy. The cameras captured it all in high definition: your puffy outer lips stretching obscenely around his girth, your ass cheeks spreading wide as you took him to the hilt, your tight little asshole winking above his slick-covered shaft.

You started riding him hard, bouncing up and down with wet, filthy slaps, letting the lens see his cock sliding in and out, shiny and creamy with your juices.

“Feel that?” you panted breathlessly, looking back over your shoulder directly at the tripod camera. “That’s how fucking wet your little stalker made me. My cunt is soaked and sloppy because I knew you were watching me hump that teddy bear like a desperate, horny whore for days.”

You spun around to face Bucky and the main camera, planting your hands on his firm chest. Now you rode him properly, grinding your clit against his pelvis, bouncing so your tits jiggled obscenely while you stared straight into the lens with hazy, lust-filled eyes.

“You rode my teddy like a pathetic little slut,” Bucky groaned beneath you, hands finally free to grip your hips hard enough to bruise. “Now ride the real thing, doll. Show the camera exactly how you fuck when you think no one’s watching.”

As you bounced faster on his cock, Bucky licked two of his flesh fingers, coating them generously with spit. He reached behind you and pressed the pads of his wet fingers right against your tight little asshole, tapping and rubbing teasing circles over your puckered hole.

“Look at this greedy little pucker,” he sneered, voice low and filthy, eyes locked on where his fingers were playing with you. “Been teasing this tight ass the whole time you were humping my teddy, huh? Such a nasty girl… acting all innocent while you wanted both your holes filled.”

You whimpered loudly, clenching around his cock as his fingers continued tapping and pressing against your asshole, not pushing in yet just teasing, promising.

You rode faster, harder, your swollen clit rubbing perfectly against him with every grind. Your pussy was creaming so much that white, frothy rings of your arousal coated the base of his cock and matted the dark hair there.

“I’m gonna come- fuck, Bucky- I’m creaming all over your cock!” you cried out shamelessly.

Bucky suddenly sat up, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you down on his cock as you shattered. Your pussy clenched and pulsed violently around him, gushing clear slick in messy squirts that soaked his pelvis and dripped down his balls.

With a deep, possessive growl that vibrated through your chest, he thrust up hard and came deep inside you, thick, hot, endless ropes of cum flooding your spasming cunt. He held you pinned down, grinding up into you as he pumped every last drop into your womb while both of you moaned filthily for the cameras.

When he finally pulled out with a wet, creamy sound, a thick, obscene stream of his pearly white cum immediately poured out of your ruined, gaping hole, running down your folds and asshole in heavy globs.

Bucky didn’t let you close your legs even for a second.

“Keep them open for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low and rough with satisfaction. “Spread them wider. I want the camera to see exactly how full you are.”

Face burning with humiliated arousal, you obeyed. With shaky fingers, you reached down and gently spread your puffy, well-fucked folds, opening yourself completely. You pushed softly, and a thick, warm trickle of his cum began to leak out of you, slow and creamy, dripping down onto the ruined sheets while the cameras captured every second in sharp detail.

Bucky’s eyes darkened with raw hunger as he watched. He couldn’t look away from the sight of his release slowly spilling from your stretched pussy.

“That’s it… fuck, look at you,” he breathed, almost reverent. “So pretty like this. All full of my cum. I love seeing it drip out of you.”

He stayed like that for a long moment, just staring, mesmerized by the messy, intimate sight. His hand gently stroked your thigh, thumb brushing soothing circles over your skin.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the intensity melted away.

Bucky pulled you gently into his arms, kissing you deeply, slow, tender, loving kisses that felt worlds away from how brutally he’d just destroyed you. He grabbed a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom and carefully cleaned between your legs, wiping away the sticky mixture of your combined fluids while pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your flushed cheeks, and your swollen lips.

“We’re both so fucking twisted,” he murmured against your skin, voice warm and possessively affectionate as he tucked you against his broad chest. “And I wouldn’t change a single filthy thing. My pretty little pervert.”

You smiled sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, already plotting the next time you’d corrupt him even further.

“Good,” you whispered, voice hoarse from moaning. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you, Sergeant. Next time… we’re bringing the teddy into the bed with us while we film.”

Two weeks later, the team was deep in an abandoned Hydra facility buried in the Romanian mountains.

The lower levels were freezing cold, pitch-black in places, and eerily silent except for the constant drip of water and the low groan of settling metal beams. The air smelled of rust, mildew, and old blood. Every footstep echoed like a gunshot through the concrete corridors.

You and Bucky had been paired to sweep the sub-basement. The rest of the team was three floors above but their voices kept crackling through comms, far too close for comfort.

The second you rounded a corner and lost sight of the staircase, the tension snapped.

Bucky grabbed your wrist and yanked you into a derelict interrogation room. The heavy metal door slammed shut with a deafening clang that echoed down the hallway. Old restraint chairs were bolted to the floor, broken glass and rusted chains littered the corners, and a single flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead.

“Fuck the mission,” he growled, shoving you against the cold concrete wall, teeth scraping your neck. “I’ve been hard since we landed. Been imagining bending you over one of these tables the whole flight.”

Heart hammering, you pulled the small body cam from your vest and clipped it to a rusted shelf at the perfect angle. The red recording light blinked on.

Bucky’s eyes darkened with pure lust.

“Risky little slut,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “John and Yelena are only three floors up. They could walk in any second.”

“That’s what makes it so fucking hot,” you whispered, already unzipping your jacket and letting it drop. “Imagine if they heard me moaning your name while you’re balls-deep inside me.”

He spun you around, bent you over the old metal interrogation table, and kicked your legs apart. The icy surface pressed against your chest as he yanked your tactical pants and panties down in one rough motion. The freezing air hit your soaked pussy like a slap.

“Look at the camera, doll,” he ordered, freeing his thick cock and rubbing the fat, leaking head through your dripping folds. “Smile pretty while I fuck you raw in a Hydra base like the desperate little whore you are.”

You moaned, pushing back desperately. “Hurry, Sergeant- please, before someone comes-”

Comms crackled loudly.

“Barnes, status report,” John’s voice came through, clear and close. “You two good down there?”

Bucky didn’t stop. He thrust into you in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. You had to bite your own arm to keep from crying out as he immediately started pounding you hard, the old metal table scraping noisily against the concrete floor with every thrust.

He pressed the comm button with his metal hand while still railing you.

“All clear,” he answered, voice impressively steady. “Just clearing the last sector. Give us five more minutes.”

The second the comms cut, he fucked you even harder, metal hand spanking your ass red.

But it didn’t stop.

Comms crackled again, even closer.

“We are coming down to assist!” Alexei’s booming voice echoed through the speaker. “Yelena says she saw heat signatures moving near your position!”

Bucky growled and kept thrusting deep, grinding against that perfect spot inside you while answering calmly:

“Negative. False alarm. We’ve got it handled.”

The moment the comms went silent, you came violently, pussy gushing around his cock as you bit down hard on your arm to muffle your scream. Bucky followed right after with a deep, guttural groan, pumping you full of thick, hot ropes of cum until it was leaking down your thighs onto the dusty floor.

You barely had time to catch your breath.

Comms crackled a third time, right outside your corridor.

“Barnes?” Yelena’s sharp voice cut in. “We’re at the bottom of the stairs. You better not be hiding anything down there.”

Heavy footsteps, two sets, were now thundering down the metal staircase toward your room.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed, pulling out quickly. Cum was still pouring from your ruined pussy as you both frantically yanked your clothes back on. You grabbed the body cam with shaking hands while Bucky wiped down the table.

The footsteps reached the end of the hallway.

The door handle rattled.

Alexei’s loud voice boomed from the other side:

“Barnes! Open up! We are here to help!”

Bucky shoved you behind the large restraint chair just as the door creaked open. He stepped forward casually, looking far too calm.

“Yeah, we’re here,” he said smoothly. “Found some old files. Nothing major.”

Alexei stepped inside, flashlight sweeping the room, Yelena right behind him. Yelena’s sharp eyes immediately narrowed on you, flushed cheeks, messy hair, legs still trembling.

“You both look… very red,” she said slowly, tilting her head. “And sweaty. Did you find enemies?”

Alexei grinned. “Yes! You are both breathing hard! Like you were fighting!”

You forced your sweetest smile, heart still racing.

“Just a lot of stairs,” you lied, voice slightly hoarse. “Very steep ones.”

Yelena stared at you for one long, suspicious second… then smirked like she knew exactly what she was looking at.

“Mm. Sure.”

As they finally turned to leave, Bucky’s eyes met yours across the room, dark, filthy and full of dark promise.

But you both knew the truth.

Yelena definitely suspected something.

And the game had just gotten a lot more dangerous.

Later that night, back at the compound, you and Bucky locked yourselves in his room, lights low and played the new tape.

The footage was raw, filthy, and terrifyingly hot. You could hear every wet slap, every muffled moan, every time Bucky growled in your ear while John, Alexei, and Yelena’s voices kept cutting in through the comms.

Bucky pulled you into his lap halfway through, already hard again.

“Fuck, doll,” he rasped against your neck, watching the screen as Yelena’s voice came through right as he was balls-deep inside you. “Listen to that. They were right outside the door while I was filling you up. You came so hard when Alexei said they were coming down.”

You shivered, grinding slowly against him.

“I know,” you whispered, biting your lip. “If they had opened that door two seconds earlier…”

Bucky’s metal fingers tightened on your hip.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice dark with lust, “we’re doing it in the quinjet bathroom while the whole team is strapped in for takeoff. I want to fuck you while they’re all sitting ten feet away.”

You turned in his lap, eyes sparkling.

“Or the training room after hours,” you countered, nipping at his jaw. “Right on the mats where we spar. I want you to bend me over the weight bench while the security cameras are still recording.”

Bucky groaned, gripping your ass and pulling you harder against him.

“You’re gonna get us caught one day, you filthy little minx,” he rasped, kissing you deep and hungry. “But I don’t care. I’m never stopping this.”

You smiled against his mouth, already wet again.

“Good. Because I’m nowhere near done corrupting you, Sergeant.”

— yours truly, ѕℓυtdιεr.

masterlist

taglist : @angel-bugz @sheriff-bodecker @arsenalofproblems @imanidiotsimpforhotmen @spdrveil @shackoflove @buckybunni @fancypeacepersona @noirecherie @xo4yu @vickynguyennn @avgdestitute @silveredpenumbrashark @latenightmatilda @thegirlfatherr @nonotwithoutu @sebastians-love @doelikedollz @wintersgirllost @ryswritingrecord @biggestfangirl @swansonnetts @herejustforbuckybarnes @avatarobsessedgirly @gilwm @bb-laufeyson @gibbsgirl7 @hnnhbananananana @metal-armed-muse @mollyherondale @sambuckystony @globetrotter28 @amidnightwish21 @mathcat345 @dilfsbaby @trashr0mance @buckysdecaflove @sunshineflowersandkisses @cryingb4by @emilyswortwellen @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @starspangledspanks @callmemadhatter

requested by anon : heyy first req! could you do bucky x reader sex tape smut👀 (feel free to ignore if not comfortable!) requested by anon : how are we feeling about pervyyyyyyyy!bucky and a reader who seems innocent... but is worse better than him?

[godmadeaterribleerror]

choose me

✦Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!✦

✦summary: bucky isn't your boss, but he's still off limits. and even if he wasn't, there's no way he'd ever go for someone like you. weird that he matched with you on a dating app then, isn't it?✦

✦warnings/tags: bucky barnes x female!reader, modern!au, ceo!bucky, no use of y/n, mutual pining, virgin!reader, dating apps, no description of reader (pictures for aesthetic only), fluff, angst, love confessions, kinda boss x secretary, plot to earn porn, feral level smut, (fingering, teasing, stripping, soft dom!bucky, dirty talk, mean bucky but you're into it, teasing, possiveness, mutual masturbation, pussy spanking, praise kink, manhandling, dumbification, big dick bucky, p in v sex, creampie), soft!bucky outside of smut✦

✦wc: 13.9k✦

✦Author's Note: this one is for all my wound up "want love but afraid of intimacy girlies". we go through it. Enjoy!✦

Bucky Barnes is ruining your life, and he doesn’t even know it.

You wish you could blame him. Slash his tires and scream in his face, maybe drain the oil from his bike or mess up his lunch order. But he wouldn’t deserve that, and you’d just end up homeless on the street. You’d have to sell your body, but you’ve never been that good at sales, and begging Steve for your job back wouldn’t get you anywhere when you’d just given his best friend food poisoning.

And Bucky wouldn’t deserve that. He’s perfect. He’s a mountain you’d love to scale, if you hadn’t always been horrid at climbing. You’d dig your nails into his chest, and maybe just keep him at eye level forever. So you could watch that quiet joy that only shines for the people he really, truly likes.

You’re a member of that rare club. It’s taken years of small kindness’ and lingering in Steve’s shadow to get there.

Even if you wanted to, you’d never risk ruining that just because of some schoolgirl crush. Not when Bucky might make your heart stumble and your face heat, but he hasn’t taken away your wits.

The same wits that tell you, it’s not worth the risk.

It will never be worth the risk. You worked too hard to get where you are. It’s too good a job, to burn up because you have a few fantasies. Steve Rogers famously went through assistant after assistant, before you. When you’d asked Natasha why—Steve’s a perfect boss, he lets you take hour long lunches and use sick time as PTO, as long as you don’t tell HR—she’d just shrugged.

“It’s not Steve that’s making them quit.” She’d hummed, like you were supposed to know exactly what that meant.

You hadn’t. You still don’t. Best guess, he thinks that everyone can keep up with him and forgets to slow down and match pace. But you can keep up with him just fine. Without breaking a sweat. Sometimes you out-pace him, and that earns you a loud, approving laugh and small smirk from Bucky.

Bucky.

James. You’re trying to call him James, in your head. It’s more formal. Creates a larger gap, between private fantasy and reality.

In fantasy, Bucky is a hazy voice that creeps into your dreams and rough stubble that brushes over your cheek. You tangle the sheets and blankets between your legs in bed, and pretend he’s there, holding you tight. Dreams and scenarios play out before you go to sleep, where he backs you against a wall and declares that he’s loved you since he first saw you. Or he shows up at your door in the middle of the night, pleading because he can’t take being away from you anymore. Maybe all his stares at conferences and meetings finally amount to something, and he grabs your jaw and kisses you so brutally you both just fall onto that soft couch in his office.

But Bucky doesn’t just stare at you. It’s one of his weird little quirks that Steve calls just Bucky, and Sam calls creepy and weird, he’s lucky we love him.

You do love him.

Bucky’s perfect. When you’d met him, he’d seemed as if he’d fallen out of a silver screen or leather-bound book. You’d never understood fantasies about powerful men, until one with the brilliance of fifty suns had been adjusting his cuffs in front of you. You’d barely been able to breathe, and it’s only gotten harder since you’ve known him.

At first look, Bucky’s a sharp jawline, dark hair, and eyes that follow you into your sleep. He’s cold and standoffish in that annoying way that makes the fool in your heart babble about how you could melt him. He snaps and orders and doesn’t waste time on things that don’t matter, and you’d like to hear how his voice could go soft, if you could make it.

That fool in your heart is loud. It tends to get the better of you, until the object of it’s fleeting obsession shatters the illusion by itself. Most of your crushes take a sledgehammer and destroy the heroic visage you’ve made of them in a second. You just have to wait for it, and they save you from themselves.

But Bucky likes to ruin your life.

It’s been a year, since Steve hired you. Fresh out of college, nervous, and with what Natasha called doe-eyes.

You love Bucky more than you did at the start, and it’s incredibly rude that he won’t just cut it out so you can focus.

“How’s your mother?” You ask one night, when it’s just you and Bucky.

James. When you’re alone in a room with him, and the white sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show off obnoxious muscles, it’s important to remember you should be calling him James.

“My… Mother.”

He’s staring at you like you’re crazy. Heat floods your cheeks, but you just nod. He doesn’t get to win.

“You said she was moving.” You shrug, and Bucky’s tongue flicks over his lips.

“I did say that.”

“Yeah. I know.” You pretend to turn over a paper. “I was there.”

Bucky snorts, and it’s enough to yank your attention up. He’s shaking his head with that tiny curve of a smile, and it makes your heart do something that might resemble overdrive.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”  

“What-“

“My mother’s doin’ just fine.” Bucky says, staring at you across the room. “She loved those muffins you made her. Got me and my sisters in a lotta trouble, for not bothering to make her a housewarming gift.”

You swallow. “Oh, I- I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Bucky—James, but it’s impossible to remember when he looks at you like that—smirks. “I’d want you over me every time, too.”

There’s no possible response you can think of, to that. Not one that makes sense, and isn’t humiliating. You look back to your papers, mumble a thank you, and try not to let Bucky’s low chuckle pool heat between your thighs.

You don’t succeed.

But that’s a problem for your vibrator to worry about, when you get home.

Because that’s where the fantasy. And the reality is always starker. Harder to escape.

Bucky is a mountain of a man, but you’ve never climbed anything at all. Not a tiny hill, not a slope, not even a bump in the road. The most basic things, that most people get out of the way in middle school, you’ve never even brushed against. Not on purpose. It’s just… Never happened. And you’re certainly not going to start doing anything now. With your older pseudo-boss and sort of friend. You don’t have a death wish, and you’re certain that rejection will kill you with the humiliation alone.

So in reality, you’re never going to risk anything. You’ve never had health insurance this good before. Steve buys you lunch every day—technically he buys himself lunch, but you’re allowed to get whatever you want—and you got to move out of your rundown apartment with the landlady who kept getting mad you dared to have trash, but refused to fix your broken heater. In New York.

You haven’t had freezing fingers in a year. Because now, you could afford gloves. And in the harsh cold of reality, no dick is worth more than a nice pair of gloves.

Bucky’s might be. Bucky and his smile and low laugh and nobleness and silent kindness and-

No.

Nothing’s worth it. Not when Bucky wouldn’t even want you anyway.

You’d rather have the gloves.

“You get a plus one to this event, you know?”

You look at Steve over the desk, frowning slightly. “Huh?”

Steve’s lips twitch. “You get a plus one.”

“Okay?”

“Wasn’t sure you knew.” He shrugs. Your frown deepens.

“Of course I knew. I send out all the invitations.”

“Hm.”

“What’s hm? What does hm mean?”

“Just hm. Do you have the numbers, about-“

“They’re in front of you, Steven.” You narrow your eyes. “What’s hm mean.”

“Told you, nothing-“

“What.”

Sam says that there are only three people Steve is afraid of. Natasha, Bucky’s mother, and you. At the time, you’d laughed it off and rolled your eyes.

With how his throat bobs and he avoids your gaze, you’re starting to think that last part might be true.

“You’ve just always had that plus one offered.” Steve mutters, looking at the reports like they’ve suddenly turned into something interesting. “Noticed you never used it. Wanted to, uh- Make sure you knew.”

“I knew.” You snap, and Steve sighs.

“Yeah, I thought you did.”

“Then why’d you ask-“

“You wanna get lunch?” Steve’s voice raises, and the conversation is clearly over. “I think I could go for some sushi, or- Mexican. Maybe acai?”

Those are three very different things, and it is your job to figure out which one he really wants. But you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

You have never used your plus one. You’ve never needed to.

There’s never been anyone worth using it on, except for one, dumb, handsome man who already has his own invitation to every event, and never has a problem finding his own date. You’ve spent dozens of nights lingering at Steve’s side—because he can tell you all he wants to enjoy yourself, you’ll slack when you’re dead—and glaring daggers at the model hanging off of Bucky’s arm. Giggling at everything he says and trying to drift closer than the polite, respectable distance he keeps them at.

He lets you sit closer to him than he lets them. And they are all a little younger, so maybe he wouldn’t mind that you’re not experienced and-

You stamp those thoughts under your heel. Not worth it.

But is Steve’s noticed how you never bring anyone, maybe he’s noticed how you stare at Bucky as well. And if he’s noticed that, he might start looking closer. And if he looks closer, he’s going to realize that you’re in love with his best friend, and he’s going to tell Bucky, and you’re going to get fired, and lose your cool apartment and fuck, you aren’t emotionally prepared to be a prostitute-

You need a date.

It’s the safest, most logical conclusion. You study Steve across the room, and quickly decide against asking to be set up. That might get back to Bucky, and you don’t want him to know for reason that defy common sense. You can’t ask anyone at work, but all your friends are your co-workers. You could go out to a bar, but that sounds dangerous and exhausting, and you’re not even sure where you’d find the time.

Which leaves one option.

Dating apps.

There are millions of them. You know from college friends and social media that there are about five worth having. You download all of them, and spend the rest of your lunch setting up your profile. You’re by no means ugly, and you’ve got plenty of pictures in exciting locations thanks to Steve being unable to get through any work event without you there. You put down that you’re not sure what you’re looking for, because you’re really not. You lie about your job, because when you tell people you’re Steve Roger’s personal assistant, they usually get weird. You settle just secretary, even though Steve and Natasha would shout at you if they saw.

They won’t see. None of them will see.

And you’ll get a nice, boring date to the next event, and everything is going to be fine.

“You never tell me about your family.”

Bucky’s words are so low you almost don’t hear them. You look up at him in surprise, and hope the dim lighting hides your flush.

“You never ask.”

His lips twitch down. “I’ve told you about my family.”

“So?”

“Usually.” He mutters, glaring at his papers like the did something to personally offend him. “When you tell someone about yourself, it’s an… Exchange of information.”

“An exchange of information?” You snort. “Is that a CIA thing?”

“Not everything I do is a CIA thing.”

“Everything Natasha does is a CIA thing. And you were in the CIA together.”

“Nat was better at it than I was.” He grumbles. His brow does a tight-knit wrinkle thing, when he’s frustrated. For a grown man, it’s always rather adorable. “I’d like to know about your family.”

“I…” You blink at him, your brain turning fuzzy and useless.

He’s staring at you. Saying those words like they matter, and you can barely understand them at all.

“Why?”

“Because. We’ve worked together a while. I know… A lot about you.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, giving you a strange look. “You know about me.”

“Uh huh. That’s usually how being friends works.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah, well. You’ve met my mother. She adores you.”

“She doesn’t adore me-“

“She adores you.”

He says it like it’s really not up for debate. You flush. “Oh- Okay.”

“Everyone you meet adores you.” Bucky grumbles, like that complete lie of a statement infuriates him. “And I tell you everything about me.”

You don’t think that’s true either. You know a lot about Bucky, but not everything. Steve says Bucky’s just like that—not big on sharing—so you hoard every bit of information he offers you like a dragon with gold, but it’s far from everything. “Bu- James-“

“Bucky.” He corrects, and you sigh.

He’s not making that part easy, either.

“Bucky.” You say, smooth and careful. “You know everything about me that Steve knows. I- I can tell you more. But I’m not all that interesting.”

“I disagree.” He mutters. “You’re impossibly interesting.”

You can only hum, pressing your thighs together as he just keeps staring at you. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that. It makes your brain slow down and all your thoughts turn honeyed and gooey. His hands are right in your eyeline, and he’s got those big, deft fingers that you’ve imagined tracing over your hips and lips, and he’s giving you compliments. Compliments like they’re just breathing, like he doesn’t even have to think about them because you could be all he sees.

“What do you want to know?” You mumble, desperate to move the conversation away from this. If you offer yourself too much of his attention, it’s going to drag you under like quicksand.

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?”

“My favorite flower-“

Bucky grunts, nodding tightly. You take a deep, slow breath, careful not to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

Bucky grunts. “Well, what kinda flowers have people gotten you before.”

“I- I’ve never been given flowers.”

“You’ve never-“ Bucky cuts himself off, and you risk a glance up to see him scowling. “Ever?”

You can hear the what about that he won’t say. What about a boyfriend.

If he’s not brave enough to ask it—although you don’t understand why he’d care—you don’t have to be brave enough to answer it.

“No. Never ever.” You mumble, and you might dissolve into a mist of humid humiliation and confusing arousal.

You have Bucky’s attention, and you both wish he’d take it back and never want him to stop pushing. You’ve never had someone poke at you this much. It makes your core ache, and you’d rally rather not explore what that means right now.

“You need to sign these.” You shove some papers across the desk, staring at Bucky’s hands again.

They’re curled in fists. You’d like them inside you-

You mentally slap yourself, and force a smile onto your face, nodding to the papers. “Steve told me not to let you go home, until you did.”

Bucky chuckles at that, though there’s still a strange look in his eyes. “Not let me go home, huh.”

“Yes, sir.” You drawl.

Bucky’s knuckles go white. You could swear his voice gets lower.

“And how would you stop me from gettin’ home, kid?”

“With lots of talent.” You shrug, giving him a tiny smile. “And my body.”

Bucky coughs, and the desk jerks suddenly. His knee must’ve slammed against it. You shoot to your feet, ready to check on him, but he waves you quickly back down.

“Fine. I’m fine.” He scowls, scooting forward in his chair. “Papers.”

He makes a beckoning gesture, and you just stare at him.

“James, are you-“

“Bucky.” He grunts. “Papers, sweetheart.”

You nod stupidly, shoving the papers into his hands. You’re not sure what’s happening. Your thoughts are all still made of candy-clouds and goo, so you don’t want to overthink it.

It’s only when you get home, that you realize what he called you. I

Sweetheart.

You can’t blame him. He can’t know what that does to you.

You really need to find that date.

It happens in the middle of work. The worst possible place for it to happen.

Steve’s on a conference call, and you’re lying on his couch, swiping through dating apps. You’re only there in case he forgets something, and you don’t have to pay much attention for that. The voices of old, annoying men drone on and on and on in the background, and you have everything memorized so well that when Steve calls your name, you answer without even realty paying attention to what you’re saying.

The call is three hours for no good reason at all. You get bored.

Hence, the dating apps.

It’s almost as mindless as the call itself. All in all, the experience is turning out to be more of a fun game than an actual method to find a date. The next gala is creeping up, though. You refuse to give up.

But you’re also picky. And you keep comparing every profile you see to Bucky, which is deeply counterproductive.

Michael is handsome, and the exact same height as Bucky, but he’s built with corded muscle instead of the softer, thicker strength you’ve seen straining through Bucky’s suit. Henry has a picture of himself with kids—his sister’s, according to the caption—but you look at it and just think of when Bucky and Steve went to the children’s hospital, and Bucky had become such a soft and approachable person you’d been worried you’d get pregnant watching him.

Leon has nice eyes, but they’re not as pretty as Bucky’s. Cal is in the military, but he’s beaming about it in a way that makes you think he joined so he could run around with a big gun, while Bucky joined because his family needed the healthcare. Jake has a sweet smile, but it doesn’t make you feel bubbly like Bucky’s. Asher and Kyle both have high paying jobs—all their photos showing them driving Maserati’s and drinking expensive whiskey—but one of the things you’ve always loved about Bucky is how he doesn’t brag. His suits are less expensive and more well-tailored. His watch costs $150—he always grumbles that he just needs it to tell time—and he drives a motorcycle that Sam says he built from scratch.

You squint at Damien’s profile, and he’s got a motorcycle too. His caption says that he built it himself, and you don’t know anything about motorcycles, but you doubt he built it as well as Bucky did.

You swipe left with a sigh, and go onto the next profile.

James. 41. Business Manager. You give the picture a quick glance—beefy, shirtless chest that makes you drool a little, only the sharp, bearded jawline of the owner visible in the photo—and squint at the bio. Wealthy bachelor looking for his Queen.

You snort, and scroll lazily down. James’ Interests include music, cars, technology, dancing, family. No kids, but wants them. Looking for casual fun—you can’t be causal, or have fun, but it’s always nice to pretend—located thirty feet away, pet cat, smokes and drinks socially-

Located thirty feet away.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You sit up suddenly, rapidly scrolling back up to the photos and main bio. James, 41, Business Manager.   

Fucking- Fuck-

You click frantically through the photos, somehow burning alive and freezing to your bones all at once. James’ next photo doesn’t show his face either, instead displaying a fluffy white cat on his bare chest. You know that cat. You’ve fed and pet her, paying her more attention than Bucky himself whenever he brings her to the office. Alpine adores you. You have more photos of her on your phone than you do of yourself.

Next photo.

Bucky drinking at that Italian place he, Steve, and Sam always go to for celebrations. In the background, you can see Natasha flirting with the bartender. You remember that night. She’d taken him home, and you’d heard far too many details about how hot and submissive he was in the morning. You’d been happy for her, and sick with jealousy. You’d spent all of that night standing next to her, trying not to stare at Bucky while he and Steve drank.

Which means-

You pinch in on the photo, feeling a little sick when you find it. Shrouded enough in the background that you can only see it if you look, but you can definitely fucking see it.

Your lovelorn, sad expression as you stare at Bucky like he’s made of stars.

He’s seen this photo. Everyone who’s been on his dating profile has seen this photo.

You feel sick. You unpinch the photo, ready to maybe just fall back into the couch cushions and have them swallow you whole, and then it fucking happens.

Your thumb drifts a little to the right.

You swipe yes on Bucky’s profile.

And a little heart graphic overtakes your screen, the bolded words It’s a Match! Shoved into your face.

You scream, and throw your phone across the room.

Steve looks at you like you’re insane. You feel insane.

“Are you-“

“I need to go to the bathroom!” You shout, and Steve opens his mouth, but you’re already running.

You have to pass Bucky’s office—right next to Steve’s—to get to the bathroom. You pause to stare at him, unable to form any coherent thoughts but fuck and Bucky.

He’s on his phone. Reading something with a knit brow. You might actually be about to throw up.

Like he can sense you, he looks up.

Your eyes meet.

And you run away, as fast as you fucking can.

Steve is a lovely boss. When you tell him you need a week off for vague personal reasons, but that you can still work remotely, he tells you not to bother and just take the time without work.

“But- I can help-“

“I know. I’m telling you not to.” He gives you a small smile. “You’ve earned the break.”

“Steve-“

“You’re allowed to just rest,” he says your name kindly, and you shake your head. No. You’re not.

“Please give me something to do.” You plead, and Steve sighs.

“Kid, you don’t have to prove something-“

“Please.” If you don’t have anything, you’re just going to stare at your match with Bucky the whole time. And that’s a harrowing, deadly prospect of a way to spend your week.

Steve sighs, and gives in. You get a bunch of emails to send, and they’re just enough to distract you.

Barely.

Sometimes, you still manage to falter, and open up the app. Stare at the you matched with James three days ago! Banner at the top of the screen. Maybe he hasn’t seen it at all, and you’re hiding for no reason. He could be someone who never even checks who he matches with unless they message first, because he just gets so many matches. Jealousy stabs through your heart, sour and sharp, and you sigh.

It’s your best hope. That he’ll just never know.

But he matched with you, too.

He could just swipe right on every girl he sees. That’s a thing you hear men do.

Bucky’s not the type to do that.

He’s also not the type to be looking for his Queen. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

But you’re pretty sure you do.

This is making your head hurt.

Your real best bet is that someone’s been catfishing as James Barnes, but there’s no real hope of that with the bar photo. You’re going to have to quit your job and change your name. Maybe Steve can reference you to another similar job if you apologize enough. Maybe you can move to Alaska and learn how to be a fisherwoman. You’re not very patient. And you’re not going to be able to afford your nice gloves anymore. Maybe you should just die. The best option might just be dying-

Your phone buzzes.

Message from James.

You throw your phone again. He knows.

Death is looking lovely right now.

Your days off turn into a week off. Steve checks on you, but doesn’t push you to come back. If anything, he’s still trying to convince you to just take a real vacation.

“It’s going to help more than… What you’re doing right now.” He stands in the middle of your apartment, gesturing at your ice cream and the mess of clothing on the floor.

“This is helping plenty.” You mutter. Steve sighs.

“Look, I’m really not mad about you taking the time. I know you. You wouldn’t take it if you didn’t need it.”

“But?” You give him a pointed look, and his jaw ticks.

“But I wish you’d tell me what was goin’ on.” He says, sounding more sad than annoyed. “So I could help.”

You give him a tight smile. “Steve-“

“Anything you need. If I can’t get it, I’m sure Bucky or Nat could-“

“Steve.” You don’t want to hear about how Bucky can help you. Not when he knows perfectly well why you’ve gone into hiding. “I- I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Steve frowns, but lets it go. In the Steve way, where he keeps asking every time he visits, but always takes the no in stride.

“Can you at least tell me what I should be saying to everyone else?” He asks after a week. “People are noticing I’m missing my brain.”

You laugh softly. “I’m sick.”

“But you’re not.”

Not visibly. Your heart feels sick. Bucky’s sent you two more messages on the app, one into your personal number, and none on Teams, and you’ve read none of them. You don’t want to hear his gentle rejection, because it’s going to crush you into fine, little pieces.

“We’re worried about you.” Steve says. “And again, no rush to come back, but I don’t know how to work my own schedule and Bucky’s started pacing whenever I try to do your job, so-“

“Bucky’s pacing?” You blurt, and Steve blinks.

“Yeah? Think he misses you, too.”

You swallow, and glance at your phone. The unread messages.

Bucky only paces when he feels like something is wrong. Really wrong.

And you don’t want to know. That he’s been thinking about. That he’s been pacing. Because it all ends the same anyway.

“I’ll be back soon.” You mumble, flipping your phone face down. You don’t want to know. “Just- A few more days.”

Steve looks at you like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t believe you.

But you’re a big girl. You can survive a little rejection, and it doesn’t have to be anything at all.

You’re going to keep going, and this won’t have to have been anything at all.

Nobody asks, when you get back to the office. Nat and Sam check in that you’re okay, and Steve lets you pick lunch three days in a row—and you think he’s blaming himself for everything, which at least tells you that Bucky hasn’t snitched about anything—but the only thing waiting for you is a phone full of voicemails and a crowded calendar.

And Bucky.

Bucky, who almost acts like nothing even happened at all.

Almost.

He’s staring more than he used to, and he’d always stared quite a lot. When you’re left alone in a room together, he stares until you look up at him, before immediately coughing and looking back to his own papers. He lingers outside of Steve’s office until you ask if he needs to talk, and he shakes his head and runs off like a teenager caught trying to buy drinks. Nat shouts at him after two meetings where he wasn’t paying attention, and he mutters that he was distracted.

“What?! What could you possibly have been so distracted by that you missed every cue Sam gave you, five times in a row?”

He just shrugs, and you can feel his gaze burning straight into your heart. You bow your head, and pretend you don’t see it.

You still haven’t looked at the messages. You’re not going to. And he hasn’t brought it up, so it’s like nothing ever happened.

Like nothing ever happened.

But it happened. The world ended, but it also just kept spinning, and now you’re suspended in a world where Bucky doesn’t even treat you like a friend anymore.

Steve notices. Of course he does. Asshole.

“Did something happen?” He asks softly. “Did Bucky… Say something to you?”

You look up with wide eyes, mouth going dry. “Wha- What? No, Bucky- James and I, it’s fine.” You laugh, high and nervous. “Everything’s fine.”

Steve hums, and he doesn’t believe you. You can see it, shining in his eyes. “You know… I’ve known Bucky a long time.”

“I know. I’ve read the about page.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I mean, yes, but-“ He sighs. “Bucky’s not good at… Talking. When something matters to him, he shows it.”

“Okay.” He’s shown you nothing but silence and stares.

“And he, um- He’s a good guy-“

“I’m aware.”

“I know you are, but-“ Steve sighs, slumping in his chair. “Just, if Bucky ever says something to you, or asks you to do something, and you don’t want to, don’t. I’d rather you piss him off then feel pressured. Not that he’d pressure you,” he adds quickly. “But if there’s ever… Anything. And I’ve been wrong about… Stuff. Just know you’re as valuable as he is.”

He’s speaking in riddles. This has been a long few weeks. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, taking in a deep breath. “And is there… Anything you want to tell me? As my friend?”

It’s a mean card to play. You almost want to. Steve’s kind, and he gives good advice, and you believe him. You know that if you confessed your silent, raging love for Bucky, Steve would just support you.

But you don’t need someone to support you right now. You need someone to smack you in the face and tell you to stop being a baby about your crush not liking you back.

“No.” You give him a strained smile, and it hurts on your face. “Why, is there something you need to tell me?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “No. Just… You were missed.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Steve clears his throat.

“By everyone.”

You nod, useless tears stinging at your eyes, and look back to your work.

Later that day, Bucky goes into Steve’s office and they talk for two hours. You want to eavesdrop, but that would be a new, pathetic low.

You stare at Bucky’s head through the glass, and chew on a pencil until it snaps in half.

When Bucky leaves the office, he stops in front of your desk and lingers. You can feel the heat from his body, and you’d like to fall into it. He clears his throat, and you look up like he’d grabbed your chin and demanded it.

His eyes are shining on yours, and you’ve never seen his jaw clenched so tight. As if he’s disgusted, just from the sight of you.

“You look nice.” He rasps, and you can’t tell if you’re glowing or burning out.

“Thank you.”

He nods, looking up to the ceiling, then back to you. “We all missed you.”

“I’ve been told-“

“I missed you.” He says those words firmer. They sink into your core, molten and demanding, so overwhelming you’re not even sure what to do with yourself.

You’ve been staring at him too long. Words are failing you, thoughts are failing you, and-

“I, uh- I’ll leave you to it-“

“You too.” You breathe out, and Bucky stumbles back like you hit him. “I- I missed you too.”

He blinks. His nostrils flare, and he gapes at you with a red face. For a second, you don’t see the calm, collected man you know and adore so well. You see something closer to a teenage boy, fumbling and gaping and unsure what to do with his own strength.

You like him, just as much as you like the rest of Bucky. Love it.

Endlessly and uselessly love it.

Bucky turns on his heels, and almost runs back to his office. Your nails dig into your palms, and you force your attention back to your work.

It will pass. All of this, like every storm, is going to have to pass.

You get a night off. Steve has a date, and it’s the one part of his life you have and want nothing to do with. You were going to use the evening to catch up on more voicemails, until Sam shooed you out of the building like a bird. Go rest, woman.

You are resting.

By catching up on emails.

There’s a knock on your door, long after anyone should be out doing anything. You don’t move from the couch at first, because you think it’s a mistake.

Then the knock repeats. Louder than the first time. And someone shouts your name, muffled through the door.

Not a mistake.

Bucky. That’s Bucky’s voice.

You fall, trying to get up. Your knees feel like jelly, and you haven’t even seen him yet, but he’s already doing that thing where his attention makes you feel like you’re made of electric static. Sensitive and empty-headed in the best and worst way. You can barely stand it. You can’t really stand at all.

When you finally—somehow—make it to the door, Bucky’s standing on the other side like he’s awaiting inspection. Tall and silent, shoulders squared and arms behind his back, looking at you like you’re holding his life in your hands.

You stare at him. He stares back, and you can measure your every breath in heartbeats. Louder and louder in your ears.

“Hi.” You finally say, shifting on your feet, and his throat bobs.

“Hey.”

“What’re you-“

“I wanted to check on you.” He blurts, and you freeze. “And- Talk.”

You ignore that last part. It’s the last thing you want to do. “I’m fine.”

Bucky’s pretty lips tug down. “You took two weeks off.” He mutters. “You don’t even take sick days.”

You swallow. “I- I was trying to take care of myself-“

“By working the whole time?” He looks past you again, and you follow his gaze.

Right to your laptop, open on an email draft.

“You’re supposed to be takin’ tonight off too.” He says, a little scolding, and you stiffen.

“You’re not my boss.”

Bucky chuckles. Low and deep, shivering up your spine. “Trust me, doll. I’m fully aware of that.”

Oh. That does something nice to your core. You think you might be getting a fever.

“James…”

“Bucky.” He grunts, and you take an unsteady breath. Staring at his chest seems to be the most effective way to speak to him.

“Bucky, I- I’m fine, really-“

“I brought you flowers.” He says suddenly, and his hands shoot out from behind his back.

He’s holding out a large bouquet of roses and lilies, each in about three different colors. It’s a stark contrast to his black suit and neatly pressed white shirt, petals spilling and little bits of yellow pollen clinging to the stems. To the cuffs of his sleeves.

Bucky clears his throat, pushing the flowers a little further forward. You take them with shaking hands, a little worried they’ll dissolve the moment you touch them. They don’t. And Bucky clears his throat.

“I, uh- I gave you options, and-“ He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I come in? Please?”

You can’t think of a good reason to say no. You don’t even think you’d get out the words, if you tried. So you nod, and step to the side.

And now Bucky’s in your apartment. Looking around at your things and licking his lips, nodding slowly. He fits into it, like a puzzle piece being slowly slotted in, and-

No.

You can’t think like that. It’s not going to help anyone, not by far.

He brought you flowers.

To apologize for breaking your heart.

Bucky looks back to you, bracing his hands on his hips. You swallow, hugging yourself tight, and neither of you dare to move. Bucky takes a ragged breath, looks to the side, and back to you with the strangest, most anguished expression you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“Tell me if I’m steppin’ over the line.” He starts, urgent and pleading. “You gotta tell me if I’m steppin’ over the line.”

“Bucky-“

“We both know why I’m here.” He takes a step forward. You take a step back.

Bucky freezes, and you take a shaking breath, staring at his shoes.

“I- I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t?” Bucky cuts you off, and you glance up to see him frowning. “At all?”

You blink. “No, I- I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you meant it?”

You nod, and Bucky’s jaw works tight.

“Could you?”

“What?”

“Could you mean it?” He rasps, and your mouth falls uselessly open.

“Ja-  Bucky.” You shake your head, stepping further back. If this is a trick, you’re too fragile to fall for it. “I- I don’t know.”

“Why not?” He takes a step forward, your eyes trapped together. “Is it me?”

“Is it you?”

“Yeah, I- I mean- You don’t really date.” He clears his throat. “And Stevie’s never told me why, ‘cause- I’m not your boss, but I’m not not your boss- ‘s what Sam says-“

You’ve never heard him ramble. Never heard him speak like he’s not sure of the next work. It’s just as endearing as the display at the desk, but you’re even less sure what to do with it. “Bucky-“

“If it’s just me that you’re not- That’s the reason.” He’s standing over you now. Bowing his head. “Then that’s fine. I’m not gonna be an ass about it. But…” His shoulders slump. “If it’s not that. Then I- I’d like to…”

He trails off, giving you a hopeful look.

But you’re lost. Nothing he’s saying is making sense, and you’re almost being dragged under by the current of his words.

“What?” You repeat, more pleading than before. Bucky sighs.

“You never answered my messages.” He mutters. “Figured I’d need to ask in person. Needed to hear it.” He clears his throat, lips twitching. “Even if it’s a no.”

“Even…” You frown. “Even if what’s a no?”

His head shoots up, and his frown deepens. “I’m… Asking you out. On a date?”

Oh.

What.

Your surprise must be written all over your face, because Bucky looks bewildered. He can join the club.  

You just keep staring at him stupidly, and he says your name, slow and measured.

“You read my messages, right?”

You shake your head, and he groans.

“I- I’m sorry-“

“No, it’s- It’s my fault.” He mutters. “Nat told me you were oblivious-“

You cut him off indignantly. “I am not oblivious-“

“We matched on a dating app.” He drawls, lips twitching slightly. “And you’re shocked I’m askin’ you out.”

You scowl, hugging yourself tighter. “I thought you made a mistake.” You grumble, and Bucky chuckles.

He takes another step forward. Close enough that you can smell him, smell his cologne and aftershave and something deeper that’s just Bucky. You step back more out of fear that you were about to fall forward.

Bucky follows you.

Suddenly your pinned against your counters, Bucky’s arms braced on either side of your body. You swallow. Bucky’s tongue darts over his lips, and you think you did drown in his everything. You’ve been swept out to sea, and there’s no hope of being dragged out to shore.

And with how Bucky’s looking at you, you’re not sure you’d ever ask to be saved.

“You.” Bucky reaches up, brushing hair out of your eyes with a small smile. “Are not a mistake. And if someone’s been tellin’ you that you are.” He leans down, until your lips are almost brushing. “They’re damn lucky you’re lettin’ them make it.”

Dear God. You’re not strong enough for this.

“James…” You breathe out, and his brows knit. “Bucky. Don’t.”

He tenses around you. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” You whisper, eyes dropping to his lips. They look so soft. “Don’t do this.”

Bucky leans a little back, but doesn’t pull fully away. “Why not? I told you, if it’s not ‘cause of me, we can work it out-“

“Bucky-“

“I’ll quit.” He says suddenly, and you gape.

“You’re the boss, you can’t quit-“

“There are like, four bosses.” Bucky waves you off. “Five if we’re countin’ you, which I am, and you do twice the fuckin’ work. I’ll just quit, and you can have my job, and we can-“

“Bucky.” You grab his shirt, and he falls silent immediately. “Just- Stop. You can’t quit, you shouldn’t-“ You take a deep breath, trying to focus on speaking instead of crying.

Bucky says your name softly, and big hands thread through your hair as you start to sniffle. It’s so pathetic, but you’re tired and overwhelmed and you can’t take him doing this to you twice. You’re not the kind of girl Bucky Barnes is going to want. Not for real. Not for long. And you can’t handle him pretending you are.

“It’s not nice.” You whimper, even as he tugs you into his chest.

Pressing your face into his chest is just as amazing as you’d always imagined. You wish you weren’t crying when it finally happened.

“What’s not nice.” Bucky prompts gently, and you swallow.

“You.”

“Me?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his torso. Bucky pets the back of your head, words low and cautious.

“What about me isn’t nice?”

You shake your head, hugging him tighter. You can’t stop. It’s like a reflex. “You can’t- You can’t say that stuff. ‘S mean.”

“Me tellin’ you I’d quit for you is mean?”

“You don’t mean it.”

Bucky tenses. “I do mean it-“

“No, it’s not- I’m not-“ You swallow, breathing him in. “I don’t just wanna be…”

You trail off. Bucky prompts you softly. “Be what?”

“Be fun.” You mumble. “I can’t do fun, you know than, and- And if you’re not serious, then-“

“I’m dead serious.” Bucky grunts, and you swallow.

“James-“

“No. Listen to me.” He picks you up without a warning, sitting you on the counter so you’re at his eye level. You grab his shoulders, and he keeps his hands planted on your hips, almost holding you under his words.

Forcing you to hear them, as he watches you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

“I am serious about this. About you.” He grabs one of your hands, holding it between your bodies. “I have wanted you since I met you. Don’t look at me like that,” he squeezes your hand when you give him a doubtful frown. “I have. You are beautiful and smart and bossy, and I’ve been obsessed with you so much, Nat’s slapped me about it twice.”

You swallow, closing your eyes tight. You can’t look at him right now. “Your profile said looking for casual.” You mutter, and Bucky snorts.

“Last year, Sam made that thing for me. ‘Cause I was obsessed with Stevie’s new PA, and I needed to get under someone to get over it.”

“Hm.” You peek at him. He looks sincere. “Did you?”

“I got under many someone’s.” He shrugs. “Didn’t have Sam’s intended effect. Think I just wanted you more, after every time.”

You swallow. That does explain a lot about the profile, in hindsight. Those were all very Sam things to say.

“I want you.” Bucky murmurs, pressing a little closer. Your noses are bumping, and he’s still not looking away. “You’re in my dreams, and days without you are nightmares. Just- One shot. It’s all I need. Please.”

And God, you want to give it to him. More than anything. You want to tell him that he doesn’t even need his shot, he hit a bullseye a year ago and you’ve just been waiting for him to realize it since.

But-

“I’m a virgin.” You blurt, and Bucky blinks.

“Okay-“

“I can’t do what others can. For you. And I- I don’t know how anything works- Well, I know how sex works, I got an A in health class, but everyone got an A in health, but I got an A and paid attention, and-“ You’re rambling. “I just don’t know how dating works, or- Or relationships, and I’m not- You’re very- You.”

You gesture over his everything, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“That a problem, doll?”

“No. God, no. You’re perfect, I’m just- Not? And that’s not really fair to you-“

Bucky grabs your face, and your cut off in a kiss.

You’ve seen kissing in the movies and on TV. Read about it a million times. It’s always all sweet and romantic, with swelling music and breeze and passion.

And nothing has done it justice at all.

Kissing Bucky is awkward for a second—his lips slotted over yours, your whole body frozen as it shuts down, then reboots—and then it’s like breathing. Your hands fly back to his shoulders, your legs spread so you can lean further forwards, and your lips move without a thought. Pressing against Bucky’s, moving in a dance he seems more than happy to lead, chasing at the slight chance that you could have just a little more.

One of Bucky’s hands finds this back of your head, and the other grabs your waist. Dragging you further forward until your chests are pressed tight, massaging the softness there in rhythm with his lips. You sigh, breathy and content, and Bucky presses further down. He’s all you can feel, muscle under your hands and love pounding in your heart. You nails scrape his neck, and he groans into the kiss.

The sound vibrates against your spread thighs. His hand on your waist flexes, fingers digging into the softness, and you gasp.

Bucky pulls back too fast, and you follow. Tugging him back, unwilling to let him go just yet. He follows for a second, tongue tracing over your lower lip, then yanks himself back.

His brow presses against yours, and you both breathe raggedly.

“I like you.” Bucky almost growls. His thumb presses over your swollen lips, palm cupping your cheek, and you melt further into him than you already were.

“Bucky-“

“You’re what I want.” He leans forward, demanding and pleading all at once. “Your body.” He pushes his hand under your shirt, rough fingers dragging against sensitive skin. “Is a bonus.”

You shiver, whimpering softly. You feel pliant. Dizzy, in a way that no flirting or video has ever rendered you before. You think Bucky might’ve sucked your soul out with that kiss. You’d like him to do it again.

But when you try to lean up, Bucky pushes you gently back down. You whine, and his lips twitch.

“You like me too.” He mutters, watching you like he’s somehow still unsure.

“Mhm.” You say, and he stands a little taller.

“How long-“

“The same.”

“Oh.” He grins. “Good. That’s- Good-“

You slam back up, kissing him with an open mouth and sloppy need. Bucky responds immediately, and heat is starting to build between your thighs. It’s not just going to go away with a little touching and petting. It’s almost painful. You need him.

Bucky pulls away again. You’re going to punch him.

“Jesus.” He mutters, staring down at your desperate expression. “You gotta slow down, baby-“

“Don’t want to.” You breathe, pulling at his shirt. “Want you, Bucky. Want you now.”

His throat bobs, eyes darkening, but he remains composed. “You… You’re a virgin-“

“Then show me.”

Bucky says your name, and now he’s the one begging. But you’re not letting him off this easy.

“Show me, Bucky.” You rest your chin on his chest, giving him your best pout.

He grabs your face between big hands, chest heaving as he stares at you. You offer a sweet smile, and his nostrils flare.

“Please.” You whisper. “Anything. I just want to feel you.”

“Feel me.” He echoes, like he can’t believe it. “You wanna feel me?”

You nod, and he presses his brow over yours his, his eyes squeezed shut.

“And you want me to show you.” He rasps. “All the different ways I can make you feel good.”

You nod frantically, almost clawing at his shirt. Bucky’s eyes shoot open.

“Yeah?” He grunts, and you whine.

“Yeah. Yes. Please-“

He grabs your jaw, grip hard and unyielding, folds over you like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. His lips move, harsh and hungry, and his hand on your hip starts to knead the skin like he’s trying to leave a mark.

“Wanted this for so long.” He grunts, dragging his hand down to squeeze your ass. “Wanted you. So fuckin’ bad.”

You moan into his mouth, and Bucky sucks on your lower lip. You can’t have enough of him. He’s warm and leaves little fires everywhere he touches. You’d like them to sweep through you, overtake you and send you higher.

“So gorgeous.” Bucky’s hand moves lower, resting on your upper thigh. “Thought about you all the time, hated bein’ in a room and not getting to touch you, was so sure I was going to lose my damn mind not havin’ you be mine.”

“I- I wanted you too.” You breathe out, almost delirious from his kisses. “Always wanted it to be you, never- Oh-“

You lose your ability to speak for a second, when Bucky starts to kiss under your ear. Your body goes pliant and soft, and his growl against your skin sends a shiver up your spine. He’s holding the back of your neck now, guiding it to offer himself better access. You tug on his hair and he moans. It makes your knees wobbly.

“Never anyone else,” you breathe, and he seems to like that. The massive hand on your thigh shifts slightly, so Bucky’s thick fingers are grazing your core through your clothing.

It’s a perfect pressure where you’d been craving any of his attention, and it’s a promise of more later. Your legs give out, eyes fluttering as your brain short circuits with arousal.

Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as he sits you on the counter, back arching as he captures your mouth in another kiss.  

“No one else.” He mutters, hand on your neck slowly, possessively moving down your spine. “Never gonna be anyone else, doll. Not for you,” he nips at your jaw, hand on your thigh teasing the sensitivity under your shirt. “Sure as shit not for me. Been no one else since I started thinkin’ of you.”

Your breath hitches, and you lean back with wide eyes. “Bucky, you don’t have to-“

“I’m not lying.” He says firmly, dropping his brow against yours. You try to lean back, but he grabs your chin, forcing your eyes back together.

You blink at him hopelessly, grabbing at the collar of his shirt like you’re looking for balance. Bucky gives you a tiny smile, pressing his lips sweetly over yours. Another, softer promise.

“No one,” he murmurs. “Was ever gonna live up to you. First few months I’d fuck a girl and feel sick the next day. Like I’d done you wrong.”

“You- You didn’t-“

“Yeah, I did. We coulda been doin’ this a lot sooner.”

You flush, looking down to where your bodies are pressed so tight together. Bucky’s dress shirt and hidden muscle, both hard and gentle all at once. Your sleeping clothes and bare feet, swinging off the counter. You lean a little further into him, suddenly feeling rather small.

“What if I’m not…” You take a deep breath, frowning at the floor. “What if I don’t-“

Bucky says your name, concerned and caring, and you shake your head.

“What if I’m not the fantasy, Bucky.” You look back up with your best pleading eyes. “What if that- That idea of me isn’t worth what you thought?”

His brows knit tight, and you try to shirk away as he studies you. You can’t tell if you like it or not, but you know you feel bare. And you both want him to look away, and never go where you can’t reach him again.

Bucky’s lips twitch. He leans forward slowly, kissing each corner of your mouth before taking it fully under his. The kiss is hot and commanding, almost forcing your brain to slow back down. You dissolve into it, your thoughts a nice haze of Bucky. He guides your legs a little further apart, and takes both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them behind you.

“I love you,” he mutters. “I told you. And remember,” he pulls back with that lovely, secret smile. “I’m helpin’ you through it, right?”

You nod, and Bucky leans back forward, bumping your noses together.

“Trust me?”

“Yes.” You breathe, and he grins.

“Good girl.”

Heat floods between your legs, and oh. You like that. You’re shaking a little bit, you like it so much. Want it so much. Want Bucky.

Like he’s reading your mind, he rasps against your lips. “You enjoyed other things before?”

You nod, unable to tell if that’s another flush or just how turned on you are, and Bucky smirks.

“Like what?” He kisses your cheek, massaging your thighs. “Tell me what you like, sweetheart. What you want.”

“I- I want to be under.” You whisper, and you think his hands might be magic. Pulling answers out of you that you would’ve rather died with an hour ago. “Want you over me. Tell- Telling me what to do.”

Bucky hums, nosing at your neck. You close your eyes, forcing on.

“Tell- Tell me how good I’m doing. And- Other stuff.”

He leans back, and your core throbs at the shine in his eyes. Like he’s going to eat you alive. “Other stuff?” He rasps, and you nod weakly.

“If you can- Can do that.” It’s hard to focus, between his piercing gaze and the hand wandering between your legs. Teasing your inner thigh, until you’re voice is high and breathy. “Do that, and- and be-“

“Be a little mean?” He coos, thumb pressing over your aching button. You swallow, and nod.

“A little mean.” You echo, and Bucky grins.

“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses you again, slow and romantic, and you barely notice his hand moving away. “Think that’s enough outta you for now.”

“Wha- Bucky-“

He steps away. Without warning, Bucky just backs up, and you almost fall off the counter trying to chase him. He laughs, and pushing you back into place in a second, then moves away again. Where you can’t follow.

“Bucky, come back-“

“Nope.” He grins, like he knows you’re already too lost to chase him. He probably does. Asshole. “You want me to show you?”

You scowl. “James-“

“Call me whatever you want, baby. You ain’t gonna be able to talk at the end, anyway.” He braces his hands on his hips, raising a brow. “Want me to show you.”

He won’t come back until you answer, so you just nod, crossing your arms like a scolded child. Bucky grins, and you’re hoping for another good girl and kiss, but he doesn’t even lean closer.

“Alright.” He stands a little taller. “Strip.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Strip.”

“Like, completely?”

“Hm.” He pauses, raking over your body in a way that really shouldn’t make you feel more turned on. “Yep. All of this, off.”

He waves to your body, and gives you a silent, challenging look. Like he’s expecting you to go back, and ask for that date first.

But at this point, you’re going to explode if he doesn’t make you cum. And you’ve never backed down from him before. You have no interest in starting now.

Slowly, you peel off your sweater. Your shirt. The cold air hits your bare chest, and not wearing a bra was the right choice. Bucky’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, the evidence of your effect on him straining through his pants.

Your nipples are peaked, and you awkwardly palm at them the way you’ve seen in porn. Bucky shifts on his feet, hand flexing like he’s trying not to reach for you, so you repeat the motion again.

“Pants.” He grunts, and you smile sweetly.

“Please?”

Bucky chuckles, like he can’t believe you. “Jesus, woman-“

“It’s polite-“

“If you don’t take your pants off.” He grunts, giving you a firm look. “I’m gonna rip off your pants and fuck you on this counter right now.”

You swallow. That doesn’t sound all that bad, but-

Something foolish and lovesick inside of your chest demands that tonight be special. So you move on from your breast, but give Bucky a nervous smile.

“Next time?”

He softens slightly, and nods. “Next time. Pants.”

You smile, and he smiles back. But the expression quickly shifts back into desire, as you shuffle out of your pants. You take your underwear down in one motion as well, leaving you completely exposed. At Bucky’s mercy.

And he’s just watching you.

Watching you and rubbing his crotch, where an erection is demanding attention. The lewd sight makes you fuzzy in all the right places, your own legs spreading a little wider apart.

You need him so bad it hurts. Your fingers dip into your wet pussy, clumsily rubbing your clit, and Bucky groans.

Suddenly he’s back against you, staring at your hand between your legs and panting like a dog.

“Look at you.” He groans, dragging his gaze back up your naked body. “Better than a dream.”

“Thank you.” Your hips buck up against your own, suddenly flimsy and useless hand. You’ve touched yourself before. With Bucky all around you, it’s simply not enough. “Bucky- You-You need to touch me-“

“I know.” He grunts, lips ghosting over yours. “Need you to be ready, just-“

His throat bobs as he cuts himself off, his hand on his own hard dick suddenly pressing against your pussy. A spasm shoots through your body, and you almost fly off the counter.

Bucky presses further down, attaching his lips to your neck and collarbone. His tongue flicks against a pulse point as he spreads your pussy lips. Rubbing up and down while his thumb circles around your clit, working you up and up and up. You’re panting in his ear, vulnerable and dazed, and Bucky hums against your skin.

“Shirt.” He grunts. “Get my shirt off.”

You nod, and it should be a simple task. But Bucky’s relentless. He suckles on your neck, leaving possessive bruises on your skin all while working your pussy and drawling in your ear.

“I know exactly how I want you, pretty girl.” He mutters, flicking your clit with his thumb. “Told you I’ve been thinkin’ about it forever. ‘Bout every single way I’d take you if I got the chance. And I’m gonna show you all of them,” he kisses over a bruise, teasing two fingers against your fluttering core. “But tonight, we’re takin’ it easy.”

You whine, fumbling with just the top button of his shirt. “I- I don’t want easy-“

“I know, baby.” He presses just the tip of his finger into your cunt, and you clench around him with a whine. “But you’re so sensitive.”

If you had the power right now, you’d hit him for saying it like that. All mocking and syrupy. Making you try to fuck your hips down onto his fingers. But Bucky just pulls fully out, moving his attention back to your swollen clit.

“You need to take care of the buttons.” He whispers, pushing down hard on the bundle of nerves. “They need a little extra attention.” He rubs his thumb back and forth. “Before we get goin’.”

“Fuck- Bucky-“ You breathe, almost slumped against his chest. Your fingers are shaking, desperate to just hold onto something as thighs spread as wide as they can go. “Fuck you-“

He chuckles, kissing the side of your head as his thumb picks up speed. “We’re getting there, needy girl.”

You scrape at his forearm, one hand still trying to pry his shirt open with no real resolve at all. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, the asshole. Driving you insane with the teasing over your exposed entrance, never fully offering relief. You manage to get the top button open, but then Bucky pushes down hard on your clit, and an open moan falls from your lips as you double over.

“That’s it.” Bucky laughs, low and dangerous in your ear. “Doesn’t that feel good, baby?”

You nod, watching him move on you. “Bu- Bucky-“ You pull on his collar. “Help…”

“You’ve got it.” He says simply, spreading two fingers and dragging them between your pussy lips. “Just keep tryin’.”

There is no world where you have it, but Bucky’s words are enough for you to keep grasping fruitlessly at the fabric. Your head drops onto his shoulder, as you paw at his shirt. He laughs, rumbling through his chest, and slows his pace on your clit.

“All the ways I’ve pictured havin’ you.” He mutters. “This is the prettiest. Got you nice and ready, barely even touched you.”

“You’re- You’re touching me-“

“Not like I could touch you.” He says, a deep promise in his voice. “Told you, I’m going easy on my best girl. But if I wanted…”

He chuckles, kissing the side of your head. Pushing on your clit as your body starts to wiggle, trying to find more relief. “Bucky-“

“Every time I’ve seen you, layin’ on the couch.” He presses further forward, his bulge against your thigh. “I’ve thought about putting my hands all over your perfect fuckin’ body. Touching these tits,” he ducks his head, and your breath hitches as he kisses over the curve of your breast. “Touchin’ this sweet little pussy.” He plays with your clit like it a toy. “And makin’ you squirt all over Stevie’s nice cushions.”

“I’d look at you.” You gasp, holding onto his shirt for dear life. “In your chair. Wanted to sit on your lap.”

Bucky groans, hips jerking slightly. “Shit, I’ve thought about that too. Pinning you on my cock ‘till you’re sobbing, fucking you over my desk- Christ, whenever you’d bend over I’d just want to drag your ass back and fuck it ‘till you were drooling.”

“Fuck, yes.” You’ve given up on the shirt.

Your hand is wandering down between your bodies, and you rub against Bucky’s crotch, trying to return some of the favor. Bucky moans into your ear, pressing his hand flat over your cunt.

“Shit, you- Can’t just fuckin’-“ Bucky grunts your name, and you roll your hips against his hand.

“Need it. Need it, Bucky- Just- Your fingers, please-“

“No.” He mutters, his own voice gravelly as you squeeze him. “Can’t be patient, can you, sweetheart? Want this cock so bad you’re just grabbin’ for it, wasn’t even able to get my shirt off-“

“It’s a mean game.” You breathe, and he laughs, pushing his lips back over yours.

“You started it.” He brushes the hair from your face, easily moving you backwards until you’re just groping for something of him to hold onto.

“Why can’t you just- Just fuck me-“

“Because you wanted to be a good girl.” Bucky’s kisses are turning slow. Lazy. He’s groping your pussy again, but with far less purpose.

Just spreading your arousal and teasing everywhere you need him, driving you up to an edge you think might take away your mind. A mind you’d be happy to lose for him, if he’d just take it.

“And I want to show you.” Bucky rests his thumb over your entrance, his free hand pushing on your abdomen. Forcing you to stay still. “But you’ve got a greedy pussy, sweet girl. Think you need a little break?”

You shake your head—you do not want a break—but Bucky pushes his thumb a little harder, and you squeak.

“Bu- Bucky-“

“Look at me.” He orders, and you don’t have another choice. His voice is magnetic.

With just the top button exposing his sweaty collarbone and his erection evidence that he cares about this as much as you do, all of Bucky is magnetic. Gravitational. And it makes you feel so unbelievably good, just to be seen by him.

Being fucked by him might kill you.

It’s a risk you’re willing to take.

“Hi.” He smiles, and your lips wobble with need.

“Hi.”

“You still in this?”

You nod, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

“I’d like you to say it-“

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help yourself from saying it.

It’s supposed to be mocking. But your voice is still high, and Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” He shakes his head, tone something between amused and exhausted. “Otherwise you’d be a really fuckin’ brat.”

You flush violently, and Bucky slaps your pussy once. Just enough to make you feel like you’ve been struck by lightning, and mold back into his whims.

“One day.” He drawls, one knuckle pushing up to press on your clit. “I’m gonna get you on my face. Let you ride me, fuckin’ suffocate between your legs.”

You’re shaking, watching him. He’s talking like he’s predicting the weather, but your head is running wild. The image of Bucky under you, forcing your cunt onto his generous mouth. It would be hot and wet, his hands would leave bruises, and, and-

“You’re so reactive,” he mutters, using featherlight swipes of his thumb against your clit. “Think I could make you squirt on me. It’ll be like this,” he starts to move in tiny, rapid motions back and forth. “Like this. But my tongue,” he licks up your neck, nipping at the underside of your jaw. “And your needy clit bein’ sucked like I’ve got some fuckin’ candy.”

He pinches your clit, and starts to roll it back and forth. You can feel a pressure, building and building. It’s almost blindingly good.

“You’re makin’ such nice sounds for me.” Bucky mutters. “Bet you’ll sound even better, coming apart all over my cock.”

You nod, humping into his hand. You need more, but just when you think it’s going to snap, Bucky’s hand moves back down. 

“You feel this, baby?” He circles his thumb against your hole, and you hum, eyes flutters. “She’s ready for me.”

“Yes.” You breathe. “Ready, Bucky, please- Wait-“

You almost whine when he pulls away again, but this time it’s for a good cause. Bucky rips his shirt off, tossing it to an unimportant corner of the room.

He’s a work of art. All thick, tanned muscle and scars from his time in the army. They ripple when he moves, decorate him like earned tattoos, and you want to map each one with your fingers. His arms are fucking tanks, reaching out for you, and you tumble into them without a thought.

Bucky hauls you into his arms, hooking under your ass and dragging you off the counter with only a grunt.

“Legs around me.” He orders, and you obey. It’s nice to be this close to him.

Plus the bonus, of getting to try and ride his chest while he carries you to your room. You stumble and giggle, trying to give him directions. Bucky shoves open your door with his shoulder, and you laugh as he walks backwards to the bed, his knees hitting the mattress and sending you both tumbling down.

“Shit- Bucky!” You shriek with delight as Bucky rolls you over, trapping you under his broad body. “Oh- Ooh-“

Your words fall off as he kisses you into the mattress, settling between your spread legs quickly. Your hands wander over the expanse of his back, and it’s a nice wealth to be crushed under. You’re losing cognitive function again, as Bucky ruts his still covered erection against your wet core. You don’t know how he’s kept it together so long. You feel like you’re going to cry with desperation, and you’re fully at his whims.

This is nice, though. It’s a hot pressure—still far from what you need, but enough to tide you over—and Bucky’s wall of muscle around might be the best things you’ve ever felt. Your tits pressed against his chest, his arms braced by your head as you just make out like teenagers. He glides one hand down, rolling your nipple between calloused fingers, and you gasp softly.

“Bu- Bucky-“

“I’m gonna start slow.” He murmurs, low and commanding. “Then pick it up. Fuck you ‘till you can’t walk, baby. Give you what you deserve.” He drops his hips, forcing you to stop grinding up. “That sound good?”

You nod, blinking hopelessly up at him, and he smiles.

“Good girl.” You get a sweet kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling softly. “Stay down.”

You don’t understand the request until he’s moving again, and suddenly it seems impossible. Being naked in front of him had been one thing. Naked, sprawled out in bed below him, and watching him strip is another thing.

Bucky sits up on his knees, never breaking eye contact as he pulls off his belt. You start to chew on your lower lip, and he moves back forward, stopping you with a gentle press of his thumb.

“Easy.” He murmurs. “Relax.”

You whimper, but try to. For Bucky.

And you think you might be turning into a puddle anyway, under the reverence in his gaze.

Bucky gets his pants off with practiced ease, and your mouth falls open.

His cock is thick and big. Veiny in a way you want to feel dragging against you, the head red and angry. Your breath catches as he starts to stroke it, just watching you wait for him.

Your legs close, trying to rub together for some friction. Bucky grabs your knee, and drags them back apart.

“Let me see you.” His thumb rubs in small circles. In a perfect rhythm, with his hand beating his cock. “Nice and relaxed for me, doll. Need you to be relaxed.”

You hum, watching him under hooded eyes. You can’t stop yourself from glancing down to his dick again. You feel empty, waiting for him. You’ve been waiting long enough as it is.

Bucky follows your gaze, and his lips twitch.

“You just walk around all the time?” He teases. “Waiting for some cock to fill you up.”

You nod, breathing through your mouth, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You whisper, dragging your gaze back to his. “Need to feel you, Bucky. Pleeease.”

He swears under his breath. “Legs a little wider. Now.”

You listen quickly, and Bucky lowers down. He drags his cock between the puffed, slick lips of your pussy, the head bumping against your clit.

“Dirty girl.” He hovers over you, watching your every breath as he plays with you. “So fuckin’ pretty, should be stuffed with cock all the time, shouldn’t you. Gonna keep you in my bed, fuck you full of me.” He kisses you quickly, his words getting rough. “My smart fuckin’ baby, begging for my cock.”

“Don’t- Don’t tease-“ You mumble, and Bucky grins.

“But you’re so pretty when I do.”

He kisses your cheek, and you feel raw. A live nerve, open for him and almost vibrating with desire. But Bucky’s hands are gentle against you. And you know.

He’s going to treat you well.

“You think you can let go for me?” His question is gentle. Almost soft. “Always workin’ so hard.” He notches himself at your entrance, and your breath catches. “I’m gonna take care of you, aren’t I.”

“Yes.” You whisper. “Please.”

Bucky grins, and kisses your lips. “That’s right. You just gotta take it.”

You don’t get to even nod, before Bucky starts to push in.

And you’re not a blushing nun. You’ve used your fingers, and even some toys. Tried to see what the big deal was. But it had just felt like something was inside of you, and kind of heavy, and mostly just annoying.

This is different.

Bucky splits you open, and it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Breathe.” He grunts in your ear, and you nod uselessly. “Breathe, baby.”

You gasp for air, burying your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, and clawing at his shoulders.

He mutters your name, and you try to arch your back up, inviting more. You need more. Everywhere he isn’t feels cold and hollow. Bucky needs to smear himself all over you, or you’re going to lose your mind.

“More.” You manage to croak out, and Bucky grunts.

“Are you-“

“Yes- Fuuuuck-“

You moan, loud and shameless, as Bucky presses deeper in. He bullies your pussy open, thick cock pressing deep into you and making your feel more full than you could’ve ever felt possible. Your body feels like it’s singing, a shiver of delight pushing up your spine as he hits that spot inside you that you weren’t even sure was real.

Your pussy clenches involuntarily, and Bucky hisses in your ear.

“Shit- Relax.” His thumb snakes between your bodies, massaging your clit. “Let me in, babydoll, come on-“

The massaging helps. You melt into him with a shaking breath, head tipping back when he bottoms out.

Bucky’s head drops into your chest, his breath hot against your breasts. You’re just sitting in each other, in the sticky, feverish heat that might drive you insane.

“You feel… fuckin’ perfect.”

Bucky’s voice is a rasp, and he sounds like a man ruined.

You might have already lost your mind.

“You too.” You breathe out, and he chuckles.

The sound is a vibration, and you bite your lip as pleasure rushes right down to your toes.

“Oh… God.” You squeeze your eyes shut, clenching again, and Bucky grabs your hips.

“You gotta stop doin’ that-“

“Can’t.” You whine. “’S- You did it, you spent forever working me up, and- And now-“

His muscles shift around you, and that’s enough for your body to keen. Your back arches, pussy squeezing, and Bucky makes a guttural sound from his chest.

You squeak, when he pulls the tiniest amount out and slams back in. Your body goes completely limp, and Bucky pushes up over you, his cock still buried deep inside as he stares down at you.

“For someone who asked me to teach her, you’re bad at takin’ directions.”

“You- Bucky-“ He’s fucking you, shallow and slow. Just dragging back and forth. You might cry over it. “You- You knew that already-“

“I did.” He muses, pressing your hips further down. Forcing you to feel every thrust of his cock against your cervix. “It’s something that I love about you, y’know? So sweet and mouthy, all at once. My dream girl. So far outta my reach.”

He angles you a little up, letting him rut against your g-spot, and any chance of a sassy retort is knocked out of your head.

“Not right now, though.” His lips twitch. “Bet you’d tell me anythin’ right now, if I fucked you nice and properly. Fucked you like you deserve?”

Your head bobs, words slurred on lust. “Any- Anything, Bucky, oh my god- mmmmh-“

His thumb swipes your clit, and it’s like a tiny shock you can’t even react to. Your body jerks, but Bucky just pins you back into the mattress.

“Think I don’t want you to talk right now.” Bucky leans down, smirking as you blink with teary eyes. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we sweetheart?”

There’s something mean and powerful, radiating off of him right now. He really knows exactly where he has you right now. And you have no desire to be anywhere else. 

“Ye- Yes.” 

“Might’ve fucked you nicely, if we’d just talked a month ago.” He raises his brows. “But you made me wait for this pretty pussy. Hurting us both, baby.”

“I- I was-“

“I know.” He kisses your nose. “You are a fuckin’ brat. Bet you thought about this every time you touched yourself.”

“I- I did.” You confess. “Needed your cock, Bucky. You’re- You’re so big-“

You mewl, as he rolls his hips and slams back in. He kisses you, open-mouthed and sloppy, and you can feel your slick need running down your ass. Or just Bucky’s sweat, as he tenses with the effort to hold himself back.

Effort is visibly, slowly slipping.

“You feel that? Feel this dick inside of you?” He fucks a little harder, and your head rolls. “All yours, babydoll. This hard, just for you.”

You whine, and Bucky sucks on a soft spot at the base of your throat.

“You’re a natural.” He groans against your skin. “Made for this cock, made to be my pretty doll, and- shit-“

He rises back up, watching you with a dark, hungry gaze.

“You’re trying so hard, aren’t you. To not choke my dick with your tight little pussy.”

“I- I am, Bucky- Please-“

“You gonna be good and listen to me, now?”

You nod, doe-eyed and cockdrunk, and Bucky hums in satisfaction.

“Hands on my shoulders.” He instructs, and your body somehow finds the strength to listen. “Mouth open. No holding back, wanna hear how you like it. Hear you scream my name.”

He kisses under your jaw, and you moan loudly. Bucky’s lips curve, and he pulls a little further out than before.

“Just like that. Good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” You whine, and Bucky hums.

“Stay just like this for me, doll.” He drags fully out, then slams back in. You think you see stars behind your eyes, and a sound you didn’t know you could make is pulled from your chest.

“Buuccky-“

“I know. Needy girl, wound up so tight.” He sets a slow but brutal pace, his hands bruising into your hips as he holds you down. “I’ve got you now.”

And he does.

Bucky’s got you so good, you’re already ruined for anyone else.

He fucks you the same way he’s been kissing and touching you. Like he’s trying to lay a claim. Make it so there’s no question what he wants, no doubt in your head that this is anything but serious. His hips piston against you, but it’s not rapid. It’s the measured, strong work of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.

If there’s a pleasure point on your body, Bucky’s finding it and using it. You babble, as he abuses your g-spot with the thick head of his cock. His kisses swallow your every moan and plea, and you can’t think beyond his massive body, completely draped over yours. You’re tangled together, his balls slapping your ass and hands wandering over your body like he owns it.

He drags your knees up to your chest, helping him hit even deeper. You’re so wet it’s smearing all over his cock, and the sight of him driving in and out of you is enough to make that pressure in your tummy feel like it’s going to explode.

Bucky’s beyond words himself, hunching over your and taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he grabs at the other. You mewl, eyes glazed over and body overwhelmed with the need to cum. You might scream if you don’t. You’re probably already screaming.

“I- I need- Bucky, please, please, fuck-“

You scratch at his shoulder, so close to toppling over the edge but unable to figure out how to just fall. Bucky grunts, slamming down harder. His tongue swirls your nipple, sucking the peak between full lips before he crashes back up. His kiss is sloppy and open. You’re writhing in the sheet, edged into complete oblivion and on the verge of tears.

“You having some trouble, babydoll?” Bucky teases, throaty and wrecked.

You nod, shaking with the need to snap.  Bucky hums, kissing you too sweetly to be productive.

“Let go for me.” He squeezes your ass. “Just let go.”

Bucky finds your clit, and barely even offers more than a tease before you’re coming with a scream of his name.

Your back flies off the mattress, your hips bucking, and you’ve never cum this hard in your life. The tension in you burst like fireworks, heat pooling down your pussy and your body trembling. Your vision goes white. You might black out for a second, the daze of pleasure clouding your gaze.

There’s nothing but Bucky, still pounding into you. The obscene sounds of it, his guttural moans and the slide of his cock through your spasming cunt. His thrusts are jagged and uneven, his mouth kissing you everywhere he can seem to reach.

He follows you quickly, thick ropes of cum painting your insides and dribbling out of your pussy.

Bucky kisses you one more time, before he pulls out. It’s slower, like he’s trying to memorize you. You reach up to cup his face, smiling against his lips, and he lets out a heavy breath.

“That wasn’t too-“

“Perfect.” You whisper, and he relaxes.

“Good. Good.” He rises back up, brushing away the hair stuck to your face.

For a second, you just watch each other.

And with Bucky looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the universe, you feel like it.

He certainly treats you like it, too. Cleaning you up like you’re a princess, a treatment you never thought you’d want until it was Bucky offering. A warm, wet cloth between your thighs and a glass of water. He carries you into the bathroom, changes the sheets, then brings you back to bed.

He pauses after he sets you down, hovering around the mattress with a frown.

You scoot a little to the side, give him a hopeful look, and his shoulders slump.

He crawls into bed next to you, pressing his face into your breasts and holding you tight.

“We got things to talk about.” He mutters, and you hum, playing with his hair between your fingers.

“I know.”

“I was serious, about all of it-“

“I believe you.”

Bucky looks up at you with tired, but happy eyes. You smile, and they crinkle when he returns it.

It doesn’t matter if you’re the most anything in the world.

To him, you seem to be the world. And that’s more than enough.

“I’d like to take you out.” He says. “On a real date. Then the gala, too. If you-“

“Yes.” You beam. “Yes, please. I’d like that a lot.”

✦End note: bucky on a dating app has haunted me since tfatws. glad to do something with that.✦ ✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦ ✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦ ✦Taglist (Fill out this form to be added!)✦

[mostlymarvelgirl]

I really miss those old avengers tower fics

1. Clint in the vents

2. Bruce and Tony in the lab... science bros

3. Cap being accused and called out by his team ... either it's the "language" or "I understood that reference"

4. Loki for some reason being imprisoned in the tower by Odin to learn humanity blah blah

5. Thor and his poptarts

6. Natasha and wanda being the bestie

7. Reader either dating Loki or Bucky

8. Fury calling out reader initially as a threat as they were an orphan who was a lineage of witches type of trope. OR reader is Tony's kid.

9. Bucky randomly becoming besties with Sam and them having their own fights.

10. Peter and Shuri becoming besties with reader

11. Maria, pepper, wanda, Natasha and reader having sleepovers.

12. Tony having a party every time after a mission. Everyone ends up trying to lift thor's hammer and reader turns out to be worthy.

13. Loki teaching reader how to use magic.

And the list goes on....

[vunblr]

Brown Sugar and Gunmetal Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha! Winter Soldier x Omega! Female Reader

Tags: A/B/O AU. True mates.

Warnings: Each installment has its own.

Summary: Who would have thought that an inconspicuous vent in a bakery alley would be what brought them together: the omega who never felt right with any alpha, and the asset who wasn't supposed to want at all.

note: I want to organize this AU because I'll probably write about them again.

Alpha!Soldat: Headcanons. HYDRA's greatest achievement: an alpha without instinct. A Weapon without want. Suppressed, obedient, useful. Oh, how pleased they are with their relentless fist.

Omega!Reader: Reader's headcanons.

Brown Sugar and Gunmetal: Who would have thought that an inconspicuous vent in a bakery alley would be what brought them together: the omega who never felt right with any alpha, and the asset who wasn't supposed to want at all. Vol. 01 / Vol. 02

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[kazbrekkersangel]

Rusty

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You keep growing closer to your neighbour, Bucky. One night, you find out he hasn't had sex in a long time... and you're willing to help him get back into it.

Warnings: reader was team Cap in CW, there is somewhat of a plot!! Can you believe it, smut, kinda sub!Bucky, praise kink, oral (f receiving), p in v unprotected sex again sorry guys don't do that

Note: if my man dies in Doomsday I'm gonna make it everyone's problem —. I wanted to post this yesterday but I had to do a presentation about my research today so I didn't have the time :(

Bucky was… pent up. There was no softer way to put it.

He might not have been conscious for most of those seventy years under Hydra—his body, still relatively young, was proof of that—but time had passed all the same. And it weighed on him, in ways he didn't really know how to handle.

After he broke free—or rather, after Steve broke him free—the idea of anything like intimacy didn't even cross his mind. He'd been too busy trying to piece himself back together, memories resurfacing in fragments he hadn't asked for, forcing him to confront everything he'd been made to forget.

For a long time, that was all there was.

But eventually, after the pardon, after the constant weight of being hunted finally lifted, his body started catching up to him. He was free now.

And that changed things.

That's when you came back into his life.

An Avenger, once, gone during the Blip, only to return to a world that had moved on without you. Whatever life you'd had before, it was gone. So you did what you knew best—you threw yourself back into the fight, into the work.

Bucky knew you. Not well, per se, but enough. You'd fought on the same side, shared the same battlefield.

Him, for his freedom. You—for what you believed in.

He knew you and Sam got along well. And as he grew fond of Sam over time, he found himself growing fond of you, too. It didn't help that you lived in the same goddamn apartment building.

Bucky knew it was pointless. He wasn't the kind of person who got into relationships anymore. Maybe he used to be—but with all the baggage he carried, it would only ever become too complicated.

Still, you made it difficult to hold on to that mindset.

In the mornings, he'd catch you on your way out—yes, maybe he'd memorized your schedule just to "coincidentally" run into you in the hallway—and you'd ask if you looked decent, always a little rushed because you refused to give up those extra minutes in bed.

Or when you cooked dinner and misjudged the portions, ending up with enough food to feed a small army, you'd knock on his door, knowing full well Bucky mostly survived on takeout and wasn't exactly a Michelin-worthy chef.

Or when you asked him to check your sink because it had started making strange noises every time you used it. You'd say you could fix it yourself, but he had that metal arm and knew his way around tools, so he'd have it working again in no time—because of course he would help. It was his pleasure. Literally. The grateful smile you gave him, the featherlight touch to his shoulder as you handed him a homemade cookie—hair a mess, tank top tighter than he knew how to ignore—made crawling under your sink, soaked in dirty drain water, worth it every time.

All of it only made things worse.

Bucky didn't know how to suppress the feelings building inside him, how to keep them from spilling over. Every conversation felt like it might end in disaster, like he'd say too much and ruin everything he was trying so hard to protect.

Because that's how he was around you.

It had taken time, sure, but you'd pulled him out of his shell. You made him feel like himself again, like the man he'd been before everything: before the torture, before the killing. With you, he talked more. And you listened. Sometimes you'd even bring up things he'd forgotten he'd ever told you.

And when he showed up at your door in the early hours of the morning, you were always quick to understand; he'd had another nightmare. You never pushed him to relive it. Instead, you distracted him with random facts, or updates about everything he'd missed since the 40s, like the moon landing.

You'd debate on whatever topic you'd brought up, until suddenly it was six in the morning and you had to get ready for the day.

Bucky would always apologize for bothering you—even though it didn't happen that often—and you'd just smile and reassure him that it was okay. At least now, you were awake early enough to get ready properly for once.

One uneventful night, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. The clock read 4:30. In an hour and a half, it would ring—but you were already awake, and sleep wasn't coming back.

With an exasperated sigh, you threw off the covers and sat up. Might as well get a head start on the day, for once.

In the kitchen, you noticed the trash you'd forgotten to take out the night before. The early wake-up worked in your favor—you could still get it out on time.

After hauling it downstairs and leaving it with the other bags, you made your way back up… only to drift a little farther down the hall than necessary. Towards Bucky's apartment.

You paused in front of his door, staring at it.

You knew exactly why.

You'd been crushing on him for months now. It was almost embarrassing, really, the way a grown woman like you could go weak in the knees just watching him fix your kitchen sink in a white undershirt, his biceps straining against the fabric.

But it wasn't just that.

It was the way he smiled when you brought him homemade baked goods. The way he fed the neighbour's cat nearly every day because its owner kept forgetting it existed. The quiet kindness in him, always at odds with the way he seemed to believe he'd been ruined beyond repair.

You fell a little harder every time he stepped out into the hallway in the mornings just to tell you good morning, far earlier than he ever needed to be awake. The way he asked if he could help whenever you so much as mentioned a problem, never intrusive, just offering.

The way he was with kids, too. Letting your nephew poke and prod at his metal arm, humouring him, even play-fighting when asked, despite the way his expression sometimes tightened, just for a second.

Yeah. You had it bad.

You exhaled, shaking your head at yourself. This was ridiculous. Standing outside his door like some lovesick teenager?

You turned to leave—

And froze.

A low, pained sound came from inside his apartment. Your chest tightened. He must be having a nightmare.

You hesitated, hand hovering uselessly at your side as another strained groan slipped through the door, muffled but unmistakable. You shifted your weight, debating—should you knock? Wake him up? Or was that crossing a line?

Then you heard something else. Softer this time. Slurred. Not quite clear.

You leaned in slightly, frowning. He said it again. Your breath caught as you realised he'd said your name.

You went still, staring at the door like it might suddenly open on its own.

What the hell was he dreaming about?

As you heard another quiet sound slip through the door, your eyes grew wide at the realisation that it was a moan.

Bucky moaning your name in the dead of night. Was he having a sex dream? About you? No—that couldn't be it.

Whatever was happening behind that door, you decided to stay out of it, retreating back to your own apartment, mind reeling.

As you got ready for the day, still a little dazed, you left before your usual time, not sure you'd be able to look Bucky in the eyes just yet.

Days passed after that. You slipped back into your usual rhythm, no longer avoiding him. Not that you ever really had; that attempt lasted, what, half a day? Still, you found yourself paying closer attention to him than before.

Since that night, you started noticing things.

The way the tips of Bucky's ears, and sometimes even his neck, flushed pink whenever you grabbed his hand or arm to show him something. How he grew oddly distant, avoiding your gaze whenever you wore a low-cut top or tight jeans. He rarely touched you—you'd always assumed it was tied to his belief that he was dangerous, that he might hurt you—but when he did, when he was the one to take your hand for once, it was always so gentle. Careful. Like you were something fragile he needed to protect.

You caught him staring, too. Only when he thought you weren't looking, when you were busy with something else, completely absorbed. What he didn't know was that you were always hyperaware of him, picking up on every glance, every shift, every quiet habit.

One afternoon, he was helping you rearrange your bookshelves, trying to shove a book into an already packed row.

"I can't make it fit," he muttered under his breath.

You didn't even hesitate.

"Ha. Title of your sex tape."

Bucky rolled his eyes immediately, but you caught it—the quick flash of pink at his ears, the way he shifted his weight like he suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.

Later that evening, you offered him a beer as thanks. One beer turned into two, then three, and eventually you cracked open a bottle of wine, fully aware that neither of you had anything planned for the next day, a sunday.

The conversation drifted easily, eventually landing on relationships—on dating, on whatever passed for a love life these days. Between your demanding job and your not-so-little crush on Bucky, you hadn't exactly been active in that department.

What surprised you, though, was that he’d been the one to bring it up.

When you turned the question back on him, Bucky grimaced.

"Well… I downloaded Tinder a while ago," he admitted. "Didn't really go anywhere, though. Never actually met up with anyone. Eventually just deleted it." He shrugged. "I'm more… old school, I guess."

"So no one caught your eye?" you asked, nodding along.

He didn't answer right away.

You raised a brow, then pressed on. "What about casual hookups?"

Bucky nearly choked on his drink. "That wasn't really… a thing back in my day." He hesitated, suddenly looking unsure, like he wasn't certain he should be saying any of this—even if he brought the topic up. The alcohol had probably made him a little more loose. "And I don't know if that's really… an option for me. If I want to keep my dignity," he trailed off, looking away.

You squinted your eyes slightly, curiosity piqued.

"What do you mean?"

"It's kind of embarassing, actually."

"Come on, Barnes." You leaned back, raising a brow. "I've seen you spill tomato sauce on a white linen shirt and then rub it in while trying to clean it. An old lady once yelled at you in public for offering help because she thought you were calling her useless. You've told me you sometimes mix up shampoo and shower gel. And let's not forget the time we went to a museum; you tried to lean against a statue, casually, but knocked it over—"

"Okay, okay!" Bucky cut in, holding up his hands. "I get it. Jeez, how long were you planning to go on?"

You smirked. "Just saying. You can tell me."

"Well…" He hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I can't really do hookups because I... I haven't had sex in about seventy years."

"Oh."

He grimaced. "Yeah. I'd probably be a little... rusty."

You paused, searching for something—anything—helpful to say. "Well… you've got to start somewhere. I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but if you do want to, then someone’s got to be the first."

"Yeah," Bucky sighed, gaze dropping to his hands. He didn't look convinced.

An awkward silence settled between you, thick enough to notice.

"It's not embarrassing, Buck. Really," you said after a moment, softer now. "And if it helps, I haven't had sex in a while either. Not seventy years," you added quickly, "but at least a full year. Which, for me, is basically the same thing."

That got a real laugh out of him. Warm, unguarded.

"If you say so," he said, shaking his head.

The conversation shifted again, this time to one of the books Bucky came across earlier—The Wizard of Oz, he knew that one—and as the night wore on, sleepiness crept in.

By the time the clock neared two, you finally called it a night. Bucky headed back to his apartment while you got ready for bed, the quiet of your place settling in around you.

But sleep didn't come. Because of course, the idea of Bucky having sex was what your mind fixated on now, making it virtually impossible to focus on anything else, like counting sheep.

Suddenly, you remembered that night—you'd heard him moan your name. Was he attracted to you? He had to be… right? People didn't just dream about others like that for no reason. Even if it wasn't anything romantic, there had to be some level of physical attraction.

You settled on that thought, letting it sit—dangerous, but oddly comforting.

Eventually, sleep found you.

The next morning, you woke with a dull throbbing behind your temples. You hadn't even had that much to drink, but between your job and your increasingly nonexistent social life, your tolerance had clearly taken a hit.

As you waited for your coffee to brew, you grabbed a paracetamol and swallowed it down with a glass of water, wincing slightly.

You wondered if Bucky felt the same.

Great. You hadn't even been awake for an hour, and you were already thinking about him again.

A new record.

You were still debating whether to swing by his place later—casual, not too obvious—or just stay put, when a knock sounded at your door.

Your name followed, low and familiar.

Of course.

"It's unlocked!" you called, remembering too late that you'd never locked it after he left last night.

The door opened, and Bucky stepped in, holding a small white box. You raised an eyebrow, curious.

"Got you something on my walk this morning," he said.

You grinned. "Wow. Aren't you sweet?"

He shrugged, like it was nothing. "Figured it might help with the hangover."

You scoffed. "You have very little faith in me. I might not even feel it."

"Yeah?" he smirked. "Just like the last time, when I had to carry you home from the bar?"

"That was one time," you shot back. "Every other time, I've handled my alcohol just fine."

"Sure. What other times? Back in college? That must've been, what, fifty years ago?"

"Hey! You're the old one here."

"And I still hold my liquor better than you."

"That's because you're a literal supersoldier. I could totally outdrink 40s Bucky."

He snorted. "Do you want your present or not?"

Your grin turned giddy. "Obviously. What is it?"

He opened the box, revealing a neatly arranged selection—an éclair, a croissant, and a strawberry tart.

You groaned. "My stomach is turning just looking at that."

"…Right," he muttered. "Didn't think that through."

You laughed. "It's fine. We'll eat it later. I'm not that bad, it'll pass."

As you finished making your coffee, Bucky settled at your kitchen island, casually picking up yesterday's newspaper like he belonged there.

It felt oddly domestic. And that was the strange part.

Instead of the usual flurry of nerves and butterflies, all you felt was something softer. Warmer. A quiet kind of fullness that settled in your chest and lingered. This wasn't just a crush.

Bucky glanced up, catching you staring. He raised an eyebrow in silent question, so you stuck your tongue out at him. He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head before looking back down at the paper.

After finishing your coffee, you stood and opened the box again. "You want something?"

He shook his head. "You pick first."

You shrugged, reaching for the éclair. Just as you'd thought, you felt fine enough. And honestly, a pastry was never a bad idea.

Bucky grabbed the croissant.

"You know," you said between bites, "I didn't take you for a croissant kind of guy."

He looked up, puzzled. "Why not?"

"I don't know. It's very French. And you're very… not."

"You don't think I could pass as French?"

You laughed at the faintly offended look on his face—and in doing so, missed the bit of chocolate that smeared at the corner of your mouth.

"Sure you could," you said, still smiling.

Bucky leaned forward slightly, hand lifting toward your face.

"You've got—uh—" His voice faltered as his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, wiping away the chocolate. He seemed to realize what he was doing a second too late, hesitation flickering across his features.

You don't know what you were thinking. You weren't thinking, really. You caught his thumb with your lips, tasting the faint sweetness as you pulled it away, your eyes never leaving his.

Bucky went still. His breath hitched, ears flushing red. The moment stretched—too long, too charged.

As you released his thumb, your eyes widened and reality came crashing back.

"Oh—God—I'm sorry, I didn't—" you rushed out, heat flooding your face. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—"

He didn't let you finish. Bucky surged forward, closing the distance in an instant, his lips crashing into yours.

You froze for half a heartbeat, not realizing what was happening. And then, you kissed him back just as fervently, lips moving with his in perfect sync.

The position wasn't exactly comfortable, so you pulled back just long enough to shift closer. Bucky stumbled back into a chair, and you followed, settling into his lap as your lips found his again, just as eager.

One of his hands slid into your hair, holding you gently but firmly in place, while the other rested on your thigh, gripping slightly.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his excitement grow beneath you. Bucky let out a quiet groan, realization hitting him as he pulled back, breathing unevenly against your lips.

"I'm— I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I don't mean to—it just… happens. Can't really control it. Like I said last night… it's been a while, so I'm a little… on edge."

You smiled softly, brushing it off. "Don't apologize, Buck. I don't mind." A playful smirk tugged at your lips. "Actually… this might be kind of convenient. You know, if you ever wanted help with that little problem of yours, you could've just asked."

Bucky nearly choked at that, coughing slightly as he tried to recover.

You softened immediately. "Hey—if you don't want to, that's completely fine—"

"No!" he interrupted, then cleared his throat. "I mean— I do want to. I just… do you?"

You gave him a small, steady smile. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't."

He nodded, more to himself than to you. "Okay. Yeah. Okay." Then he glanced back up at you, a hint of nervous humor returning. "Just… don't expect too much. Like I said, I'm rusty."

You snorted lightly. "We'll fix that. Don't worry."

Something in your tone made the hairs on his arms stand on end, in a way he didn't entirely mind.

"So…" he started.

"Bedroom," you cut in, wrinkling your nose. "I'm not doing this in my kitchen."

He huffed a laugh. "Germaphobe."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand and pulling him up with you, leading the way.

Despite the anticipation buzzing under your skin, there was something surprisingly easy about it—something steady and familiar as he followed you, like this was exactly where you were both meant to be.

As you climbed onto the bed, Bucky followed close behind. You placed a hand against his chest, gently guiding him down.

"At least get me ready first, Buck," you said, a teasing note in your voice. "It's been a while for me too, you know."

"Right," he nodded, letting out a small, nervous chuckle. "Told you, I'm rusty."

He shifted lower, hands moving to your waist as he carefully unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans. You lifted your hips to help him slide them off.

Bucky paused for a second, glancing up at you. "Can I—uh… kiss you again first?"

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you grinned, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him back up to you.

He smiled into the kiss as your lips met again, a little clumsy, your teeth knocking together in your eagerness.

Then, he moved down again, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses at your pussy through the thin fabric of your underwear, his hands firm on your thighs as he kept you in place.

Your head fell back at the sensation, a shiver running through you. When he didn't go any further, you let out a soft, impatient whine. "C'mon, Buck… stop teasing."

He chuckled at that, finally slipping your underwear down your legs. But even then, he didn't rush.

He blew cool air on your exposed pussy, making you jolt slightly, goosebumps rising in its wake. You let out a frustrated groan, half warning. "If you don't get your mouth on my cunt right now, Barnes, I swear to God..."

You trailed off as he finally gave in, dipping down and dragging a long stripe up your pussy with his tongue.

"Good…" your eyes fluttered shut, your hand finding his hair, guiding him closer. "Yeah… that's—yeah, that's good…"

That seemed to encourage him. He grew more confident, one hand shifting to draw small, careful circles on your clit that made your grip tighten instinctively. Your hips bucked slightly, chasing your high without even thinking about it.

Bucky let you, flattening his tongue as he ate you out. Your head tipped back, a soft sound escaping you as the tension built, coiling tighter and tighter.

Somewhere in the haze, Bucky had started softly grinding against the matress like he couldn't quite help himself, drawn in by every breath, every sound you made.

And then it tipped over.

Your hand tightened in his hair as you pressed his face against your cunt, moaning as your body went taut. Bucky kept rubbing your clit as your orgasm washed over you, until it became too much and you gently pushed him back with a whimper.

When you finally opened your eyes, Bucky was looking up at you, a little flushed, a little dazed, his lips covered in your slick.

"If this is what you call rusty, I'd love to see you on a good day," you heaved, letting out a breathless laugh. He grinned, dipping down to kiss your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

"I—do you want to keep going?" he asked, a little uncertain now that you’d already come.

Your gaze dropped down, a grin spreading as you noticed the clear evidence of his interest. "You clearly do."

Bucky flushed. "Well—"

You cut him off by shifting forward, your hand finding him through the fabric. His breath hitched, mouth falling open slightly as you guided him back against the headboard.

Taking your time, you undid his jeans and pushed them down, then tugged lightly at his shirt. "Off," you murmured.

He fumbled a bit, clearly distracted, pulling it over his head as your fingers traced lightly over his cock through the remaining fabric—just enough to make him shiver.

Soon enough, he was bare beneath you, save for his briefs. When you freed his dick, it sprung up swiftly, red and leaking, clearly in desperate need of some attention. You leaned down, licking the precum from his tip slowly.

Bucky gasped. You did it again, just kitten-licking his cock as if it was a lollypop, until he was squirming on your bed, silently begging you to give him more.

"That feel good, James?"

"Yeah—" he breathed, chest rising and falling quickly. "Feels good..."

You continued stroking his cock slowly, massaging his balls with your other hand.

"Been a long time since a girl took care of you like this, huh?"

His eyes squeezed shut, head tipping back as he tried to respond. "Uh— Uh huh."

You didn’t speed up. If anything, you took your time even more, letting him feel every second of it. Teasing, just like he had done to you.

He didn't tell you to get on with it, though. Didn't ask for more. Just stayed there, taking it, completely at your mercy.

The thought made you smile.

"You're such a good boy, Buck...."

He gasped, eyes flying open as they locked onto yours. Surprise flashed across his expression. Your hand sped up on his cock, then, other hand tugging at his balls.

"Wh- what?" His voice cracked. He sounded downright sinful.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Don't you wanna be good?"

He nodded quickly, breath uneven, eyes falling shut again as his head dropped back against the headboard.

"Yeah... wanna be good for you."

You grinned at his answer. You could tell he was close as he began thrusting his hips up, fucking his cock into your fist.

And just before he could tip over, you pulled your hand away. His eyes snapped open, a flash of betrayal crossing his face, until he he saw you spread yourself out next to him on the bed.

"Don't you wanna be good and fuck me, James?" Your smile was sultry, dipping a finger into your wetness from when you'd came earlier.

That seemed to undo him completely. Bucky felt himself nodding, dazed.

"Well get over here, then."

He moved on top of you without hesitation, gripping the base of his cock with one hand as he rubbed his tip through your folds. Just that could be enough to make him come. He tapped the head of his cock on your pussy lips a few times, staring at his own actions in wonder.

"I can't promise I'll last long..." he admitted under his breath, a hint of nerves slipping through. But you didn't give him time to overthink it, gripping his hips and pushing him inside you in one smooth motion. Bucky gasped, eyes growing wide at the feeling of your cunt around him.

"Oh, God— Oh, my God," he moaned, not even moving yet.

You let out soft, blissful exhale yourself at the feeling of being full, but it wasn't enough.

"C'mon, Barnes," you murmured. "You can do better than that."

He nodded, starting slow, like he was figuring it out, but it didn’t stay that way for long. The restraint slipped, replaced by something more instinctive, more urgent. Soon enough, he was pummeling inside you, barely even moving his cock out. He was quickly rutting into your pussy like a dog in heat as he buried his face near your neck, whining, breath uneven.

Your hand found his hair, fingers tangling as you tugged, grounding yourself just as much as him.

His rhythm faltered for a moment as everything seemed to hit him at once—the closeness, your hands in his hair, the way you responded to him like this was exactly where you wanted to be.

"Hey…" you murmured softly, your tone shifting just enough to ground him. "You're okay. Just feel it. Don't overthink."

That seemed to steady him.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping briefly against yours before he found his pace again— thrusting into you slower this time, more deliberate.

Your grip in his hair softened, turning into something gentler, your thumb brushing along his jaw as you watched him. There was something almost vulnerable in his expression now as he worked the both of you closer to your pinnacle.

"See?" you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Not so rusty."

He huffed out a breath that might've been a laugh, though it came out uneven. "Don't—don't distract me," he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

His thrusts became sloppier, and your cunt clenched around him as you felt your orgasm approaching.

Bucky's movements grew a little more confident, his hands finally settling properly on you instead of hovering like he wasn't sure he was allowed. His grip tightened just slightly, grounding himself, before he moved both hands next to your ears, caging you in.

He was so close to you, panting in your mouth. The tension in him built again, but this time it felt different—less rushed, more connected.

You let out a soft breath, your hand drifting lower to touch your clit as you chased that building tension, needing just a little more to tip over the edge. Bucky's fingers laced with yours, holding on as he leaned in, pressing quick, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw.

His thrusts grew frantic again, losing control of his rhythm, balls slapping against you as he chased his high.

"Are you gonna come, Bucky?" You said, meaning to tease, but your voice came out breathless, betraying you.

"Yeah," Bucky managed, just as strained. "Yeah, I'm— I'm gonna come, please, come with me."

"Yeah?" A small, shaky laugh left you, your eyes slipping shut as everything tightened, sweat dripping down your neck. "You want me to cum on your fat cock?"

Bucky gasped, a broken sound, thrusting into you hard as he shot white strings of cum in your pussy. You moaned out, intensifying the stimulation on your clit as you followed right after, cunt convulsing around his spent cock, the feeling washing over you in waves.

Bucky kept thrusting in you slowly until your orgasm died down. Eventually, he collapsed on the bed next to you, panting hard.

"Not bad..." he panted, a faint, breathless laugh escaping him, "for the first time in seventy years, huh?"

You turned your head toward him, a tired but satisfied smile forming as you curled closer. "No," you murmured. "Not bad at all."

And just like that, the exhaustion caught up to you both, the two of you drifting off, tangled together in the quiet aftermath.

When you woke up, Bucky was gone—and you'd been cleaned up.

You blinked a few times, still groggy, before pushing yourself out of bed and getting dressed. The apartment was quiet as you stepped out of the bedroom, until you reached the kitchen.

Bucky stood at the stove, shirtless, focused on whatever he was cooking.

"Well, hello there," you smirked, leaning against the doorway.

"Good evening to you, too," he replied casually.

You frowned, glancing at the clock.

5:30 p.m.

"Did I seriously sleep all afternoon?" you gasped.

He shrugged. "Guess you needed it."

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your cheek against his back. "What're you making?"

He turned slightly to face you, putting on an exaggeratedly serious expression. "Now, I'll have you know I'm not exactly a great cook, but I was feeling generous, so I decided to make you dinner."

You peeked past him at the pan; pasta with chicken and what looked like a simple tomato sauce.

Your expression softened. "Aw. You sweet old man."

He scoffed. "Call me old one more time and you'll regret it."

"Oh yeah?" you smirked. "What're you gonna do—pull a muscle trying to prove me wrong?"

Before you could react, he turned and lifted you clean off the ground, holding you up with ease.

You squealed, kicking your legs as you laughed. "Bucky!"

"Wanna say that again?" he asked, clearly amused.

"Okay, okay!" you laughed. "I take it back, you're clearly in your prime!"

He chuckled, setting you down gently before turning back to the stove like nothing had happened.

You settled into a chair, watching him move around the kitchen, looking so comfortable, easy, like he belonged there.

You didn't know what to call this— if there even was a 'this'—but you knew one thing for certain.

Somewhere along the way, you'd fallen for him. Deeply.

And as he stood there, making you dinner like it was the most natural thing in the world, you didn't need him to verbalize it to know he loved you, too.

[winteryn]

RAW & OLDER

18+ | MDNI - masterlist

PAIRING: (ex)boyfriend’s dad!bucky barnes x female!reader SUMMARY: you catch your boyfriend cheating on you with another girl at your neighbour’s halloween party. bucky barnes, his hot and thoughtful dad, is ready to take care of your broken heart. WARNINGS: she/her pronouns for reader; mentions of reader's family; reader wears a skirt and makeup; original characters; (ex)boyfriend’s dad!bucky; age gap (reader’s in her mid 20s; bucky's 40+); cheating; light angst; emotional hurt/comfort; lots of praises and pet names; smut; size difference; soft dom!bucky; slight jealousy; slightly possessive!bucky; big dick bucky organization (🙂‍↕️); dirty talk; nipple play; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls); mention of reader being on the pill; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; riding; caught in the act (the ex boyfriend overhears them 🤪). WORD COUNT: 14.4k A/N: I was too excited to wait until tomorrow, this was my first dilf!bucky story after all 😭 hope you'll enjoy!

The retail store is too bright and colorful compared to the stormy sky outside. 

You and your friends have been coming here ever since middle school. Back then, Yelena’s older sister was the only one with a driver’s license, piling all of you into her car to take you wherever you wanted to go. Halloween has always been your favorite excuse to spend time together, with Kate opening her doors for your annual sleepover: a night of mildly scary movies, gossip about the cutest guys in town, and enough junk food to leave all of you clutching your stomachs by midnight.

By the time you started high school, your older neighbor’s extravagant Halloween party had become the talk of the town. Hosted in her massive mansion, it was the kind of event people counted down to months in advance. You’d never considered yourself much of a party girl, but it was the perfect excuse to dress up and show off the elaborate costumes you and your friends spent weeks planning.

When college began, the four of you ended up scattered across different universities around the state. Nearly a year passed without shared laughter in the canteen and a morning dose of tight hugs to begin your days, until you finally agreed to reunite this October. It would probably be the last chance for you four to meet for a long time. With everyone caught up in their own schedules and studies, moments like this had become rare, that’s why you were determined to make the most of these three days together.

The store looks exactly the same as it did ten years ago: fake cobwebs dangling from the white ceiling, evil-looking pumpkins staring down at customers from the shelves, racks of masks and toys that once felt endless. Now, you swear everything seems smaller than it used to be.

The air still smells of dust and cheap plastic. Strangely, it’s that sharp, chemical tang coming from the latex masks lining the walls that makes the place feel so familiar.

The first room is completely devoted to rows and rows of children’s toys, while the second—normally a storage space—is crammed with costumes and accessories messily thrown together. From the ceiling, a dozen paper bats sluggishly sway in the cold draft slipping through the old windows, while somewhere on the counter, a motion-sensor witch clutches a plastic pumpkin-shaped bowl of sweets, cackling like a banshee every time someone reaches for a piece. The sagging orange letters spelling HAPPY HALLOWEEN are stuck to the front of the counter, crooked and peeling at the edges, and you’re pretty sure the owner has left them there all year round since you can remember.

The store definitely looked scarier and quieter when you were younger, the fact that it’s located in an isolated area of the town near the woods didn’t really help. Now, it’s just the kind of place that tries too hard to be spooky, only to end up looking a little tacky.

Wanda has been wearing a perpetual scowl since she started browsing through racks of angel wings and synthetic, overly lavish princess gowns, searching for something less glittery and darker. A few rows over, Yelena tries to give you a heart attack by silently hovering behind you, switching between different clown masks each time you turn around. Kate, on the other hand, is determined to find a Wednesday Addams costume—she’s been completely obsessed with the show lately.

You already have your outfit at home: a short skirt and a lace top paired with sparkling boots, the colors an homage to your favorite Barbie doll. You’re still bitter about missing Rachel’s Halloween party because of the chickenpox you caught from Kate in senior year. You had everything ready down to the smallest detail, that Barbie costume was flawless. Instead, you spent the night in fleece pajamas, curled under the covers as you peeked from behind your pillow at Art the Clown mauling people on screen, while the muffled music from the neighboring mansion made your walls vibrate.

Still, you decided to tag along for old times’ sake.

“Black or maroon?” Wanda holds up two identical dresses.

Kate hums, absently twirling a wig between her fingers as she studies the fabric. “Black.”

“Maroon,” you say without looking up, inspecting a bloodstained lab coat before placing it back on the rack with a grimace. “It suits your hair.”

“Lena?” Wanda turns to the blonde, who’s currently trying to stab her own palm with a fake knife to test how real it feels.

“Is that even a question?” She lifts her eyebrows, gaze landing on her dark red coat.

“I know, but it looks cute in both colors.” Wanda hesitates, eyes flicking between the dresses before finally putting the black one back with a sigh. “Alright, I’m done. Have you found anything interesting?”

“I can’t believe they don’t have a Wednesday costume,” Kate frowns, rifling through plastic bags for the third time. “It’s like, one of the most popular shows ever.”

“You know online shopping exists, right?” Yelena shoots back, tossing the knife into a display bin. “Just buy a black dress with a white collar.”

“But I wanted the school uniform, not some generic dress.”

The blonde rolls her eyes, already fiddling with a pair of popping-eye glasses.

“Hey, is Nathan coming to the party?”

You flinch, almost dropping the fake vampire teeth in your hand, not expecting Wanda standing so close beside you.

“Yeah. He has some things to take care of at his apartment first, so he’ll meet us at Rachel’s house.”

A disgusted ugh echoes behind you, and that makes your lips curl into a small smile despite the clear vitriol on the blonde’s features.

It’s no secret that Yelena can’t stand your boyfriend, Nathan. They’ve only met once, but that was enough for him to immediately pick up on her dislike. He often tried to get an explanation out of you, but you always brushed it off, claiming that your friend is just like that.

In truth, you know exactly why every word coming out of his mouth sounds like a fork scraping against a plate to her ears.

During the first months of your blooming relationship, Nathan had a habit of disappearing, ignoring your messages for days—sometimes for an entire week—only to come back with grand gestures as if nothing had happened. It left you confused and anxious, and Yelena more than anyone spent entire nights on the phone trying to calm you down, warning you about how unreliable he was. After a while, you convinced yourself he was just the type to get bored easily, the kind of guy who discards the “old toy” the moment a new, shinier one comes along.

Then, just before Christmas, he stood at your dorm room door with the biggest bouquet of flowers you had ever received, and an apology on his lips. He explained—almost shamefully—that his behavior stemmed from his parents’ toxic relationship. He didn’t go into details, only that their divorce had been messy, something that left him with a warped sense of commitment. Still, he insisted he liked you, that he was finally ready for something real.

Yelena had been furious. Not only did you let him off far too easily, but there had been little to no groveling—nowhere near enough to make up for the emotional whiplash he’d put you through. She was certain, deep down, that he would hurt you again someday. And your best friend didn’t want to see you that miserable ever again, especially for an asshole like Nathan.

You can’t really blame her for feeling so strongly. She was the one who comforted you during those sleepless nights, listening as you tried to make sense of his sudden distance when everything had seemed to be going so well.

It’s not like she brings it up all the time, but whenever his name comes up, she can’t help slipping in a sarcastic remark or two—ones that, despite yourself, make you laugh.

“Oh, so Casper finally decided to show up.”

That’s another thing: she refuses to call him by his name. Back when you used to cry over him, she’d come up with ridiculous nicknames just to lighten the mood. Casper is the latest, because of how little you see him these days. Always busy, always somewhere else. Fleeting like a ghost.

“His professors are giving him hell, cut him some slack, Lena. He’s practically living in the library nowadays.” Wanda glances at you with quiet sympathy, nodding along as you speak. “I always tell him to text me when he gets home, but some days he’s so exhausted he forgets. And the few times he does remember, it’s like three in the morning.”

Yelena’s eyebrows lift at your explanation. For once, though, she doesn’t argue. She just shakes her head with a resigned half-smile.

You met Nathan at the beginning of your first academic year. He and his dad had just moved to your hometown; apparently, his father had grown tired of the chaos of the city and decided to start working from home. Home, in this case, meant his mother’s hometown—the place where Mr. Barnes’ parents met years ago, during a summer visit to their relatives. After marrying, they moved to New York and never really came back.

When the divorce happened, Nathan stayed with his father and eventually enrolled in the nearest university to remain close. Once your relationship grew more serious, the two of you started traveling back and forth together, mostly because he had a shiny, fully functioning car, unlike you. And that’s when he finally introduced you to his dad, James Buchanan Barnes.

Now, Nathan is undeniably handsome and after meeting Mr. Barnes, you can clearly see where he gets his looks from. The difference is... his father is on another level. It’s not just that he’s handsome. The man is hot. Yes, there are streaks of white in his beard, and crow’s feet appear whenever his smile softens his features—but those details don’t take away from his looks. If anything, they only make him more attractive.

He’s big, too: broad-shouldered, towering over you with an ease that’s both intimidating and… not unwelcome. And he’s a real gentleman. Every time you stayed over for lunch or dinner, he served you first, firmly refusing to let you lift a finger, insisting his son is more than capable of cleaning up after himself.

The first time he pulled out a chair for you, your heart dropped straight to your stomach.

Since February, your boyfriend has been buried in projects and assignments, and you’ve often gone back home alone. Because of that, you stopped visiting Mr. Barnes—it didn’t feel right showing up when Nathan wasn’t there.

That is, until you ran into the older man at the local supermarket one day, and after his usual gentle hug, he looked at you with his kind, blue eyes, his voice as warm as a cup of hot, creamy chocolate, “You know you’re welcome to visit anytime, right? It doesn’t matter if Nathan’s home or not.”

Despite your initial hesitation, you went. And then you went again. More times than you’d like to admit.

Conversations with him drift so effortlessly from ridiculous stuff he sees on the internet yet doesn’t quite understand, to more serious topics. At some point, you even started confiding in him. No matter the problem, Bucky always seems to know exactly what to say to soothe your worries. More than anything, he treats you like an equal, an adult. He doesn’t tiptoe around your age, or reduce your personality to his son’s girlfriend. With him, you’re just… you.

It’s almost unsettling, when you think about it—how often he’s been there for you compared to your boyfriend. Nathan replies late, often too late. There’s always an excuse: a project he still has to finish, a study session that ran too late, outings at the bar with friends he supposedly never sees. The times you try to ask about his day, he brushes it aside, steering the conversation back to you after a two-word response, until eventually he disappears again for hours.

At first, you had your doubts, and you hate yourself a little for it now.

You never told anyone—not even your closest friends—but once, you went to his faculty library. Not to spy, you told yourself. Just to... check, to make sure he was actually there.

And he was. Completely absorbed in his books.

You left with shame burning hot on your cheeks. That night, when he texted you to let you know he was home, you couldn’t even bring yourself to reply. The guilt only got worse when you realized how often your thoughts drifted to Mr. Barnes throughout your days. Over something small, like seeing a cat minding its own business in the streets—because he once told you he used to feed the strays when he was a kid, but his chance to adopt one of his own is now long gone since Nathan is allergic—or when you need advice on an assignment. He’s always there. Even when he’s busy, Mr. Barnes still takes the time to send a quick message, apologizing for delayed replies. You told him he didn’t have to do that, you understood he had work, responsibilities... Yet he just smiled and kept putting you first anyway.

During one of your weekly video calls, Kate asked about Nathan, mentioning she hadn’t seen him in the background for a while. You brushed it off pretty quickly, explaining how busy he’s been with his studies, and the conversation ended there. 

Later, while talking about food, you casually mentioned a restaurant Mr. Barnes had recommended. He’d made a habit of suggesting places he’d tried with his colleagues, knowing how much you and your friends enjoy exploring new cuisines together.

The silence that followed was mortifying.

Your gaze slowly lifted from the blanket you were knitting to find your friends staring at you, half amused, half shocked. Promptly waving off their nosy questions, you insisted you just saw each other from time to time. That he’s kind, funny, easy to talk to. Still, they teased you about having a tiny crush on your boyfriend’s dad.

The joke got out of hand the following week, when you accidentally admitted the blanket you were working on was for him—Mr. Barnes had discovered your hobby and casually mentioned that he’d love to have something made by you some day.

Yelena nearly lost her mind. At one point, she actually dropped to her knees in front of her phone, dramatically begging you to leave Nathan and just sleep with his dad.

You awkwardly laughed it off, your face burning as you resisted the urge to hang up and disappear under your covers.

In the end, Wanda stepped in, declaring there was nothing wrong with being friends with your very attractive almost-father-in-law. That helped… a little. Because you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re just two adults who get along, who often text each other for hours between a good morning and a good night. Who share an occasional cup of tea when you’re back in town that promptly turns into you staying for dinner because he is a great cook and always has a new recipe he found on Pinterest that made him think of you.

It just so happens he’s your boyfriend’s father.

You do like Nathan—a lot. And he wants you just as much. You’ve been together for two years now, for fuck’s sake! Life just… gets in the way sometimes. Things will settle down once he graduates in winter and you both understand where you want to go from there.

Every relationship has its ups and downs.

This is just a rough patch.

This year, your neighbor truly outdid herself. Rachel was the ultimate popular girl: indulgent parents, cheer captain of the only high school in town, and glossy dark waves that every girl tried so desperately to imitate. Everyone wanted to be her, but few had the privilege of sitting at her table. She wasn’t the stereotypical mean girl—just ambitious and filthy rich. Her pretty features had sharpened since the last time you saw her. After enrolling in one of the most prestigious law schools in the country, many thought her days of excessive drinking and wild nights were behind her.

Apparently not.

The rumors of her Halloween parties had spread far beyond your town. Everyone counted on her keeping the tradition alive, and now she returns each year, bringing more and more people with her, to host the biggest party in the county.

One look at the claustrophobic living room, now a dance floor, makes your lungs constrict, the strobe lights not helping at all as they blind you while flashing across the sticky floors. Costumes blur together: you saw at least a dozen demons, three cowboys, and Rachel and her two best friends as the iconic Plastics. Though every time you think you see the flash of Nathan’s leather jacket, it turns out to be a stranger. He had texted an hour ago that he’d just parked, having thrown together a leather biker jacket and black trousers to pass as Danny Zuko from Grease, but so far, no sign of him.

Laughter ripples through Rihanna’s Disturbia from a group leaning against the kitchen counter, the walls of the lavish mansion rattling along the pulsing bass. Someone spills a drink in front of you, narrowly missing your top. Your temples pulse with an excruciating headache when a group of guys holler like animals after completing a keg stand: they each wear a plastic bag with a condom sign attached to their chest, hugging each other in victory. Yet you can’t help but imagine how Nathan would’ve laughed at the scene.

Right. Nathan. Where the fuck is he?

“Hey!” Your shoulders jump at the shout over the beginning of Thriller. Yelena and Wanda appear at your sides, pulling you toward the open patio windows overlooking the huge backyard without much ceremony.

“Have you seen Nathan?” You ask while scanning the crowd by the punch bowls.

“Nope.” Yelena mutters something else under her breath, but you decide to ignore it. It must be another one of her tailored nicknames for your boyfriend.

The cold air sharply hits your face as they lead you outside, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“Why are we here? It’s freezing and I still need to find Nathan. He got here an hour ago and—”

“I’m starving!” Wanda cuts in, practically skipping across the grass. “C’mon, they’re grilling sausages! Hot dogs! Want one?”

You squint at her, confused. Her rambling is classic Wanda, nervous energy spilling out at a mile a minute.

“Wanda, stop, for fuck’s sake.” Yelena snaps, planting her feet on the ground firmly.

“What’s going on?” You glance back and forth between the two of them, but they are too busy staring each other down to acknowledge you, a silent conversation you can’t follow unfolding in frowns too subtle to catch.

Wanda shakes her head, addressing you with a polite, closed-lip smile. “It’s nothing. Let’s just eat.” She reaches for your hand, but you step back, glancing at the other.

“What’s going on, Lena?” Her jaw clenches.

“There’s no need to make a scene right now.” Wanda hisses.

“There’s no need—” The blonde sputters outraged. “This is fucking insane, what is your problem?”

You step between them, grabbing their wrists. “Hey! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, guys, but I need you to calm down and tell me what’s up.” You bark. “Kinda feeling left out here.” Your attempt to lighten the mood is entirely overlooked as Wanda tilts her head, silently begging the blonde to be patient.

“She deserves to know.” Yelena grits out.

“Not now! It’ll just make things worse for her.”

“You think it’s better if we wait?”

The argument draws a few stares from the patio. Kate, watching from the door, clumsily invents a story about a lost lipstick to defuse tension, quickly making her way to you as most people shrug and return to their drinks.

The air suddenly feels heavier, tension crawling up your spine and settling in your shoulders.

“Someone tell me what the fuck is happening. Right now.” Your voice shakes despite your effort to stay calm. “Is Kate okay? Did Nathan do something?”

Yelena simply exhales a long breath, pushing her tongue into her cheek in annoyance. Wanda takes your hand at once, her eyes pleading.

“It’s not about Kate. She’s fine. We’ll explain later, okay?”

“No,” you snap, wrenching your wrist free. “Explain now.”

Yelena huffs. “You’re just making it worse.”

Wanda’s auburn hair swings as she faces her, her voice turning serious. “Me? We know you hate his guts, Lena. You’ve been waiting for him to fuck up since the moment they started dating. But could you please put your fucking ego aside for once and think about her wellbeing? We’re in the middle of a party and you’re ruining her night.”

“Oh! I am ruining her night? You have been kissing his ass since the very beginning. And you talk about my fucking ego? You’re such a bi—”

“I saw Nathan upstairs making out with a girl!” The words pierce through the booming music like thunder.

Yelena and Wanda go abruptly still, all their annoyance vanishing at once as they slowly turn to face you with wide eyes. Kate is standing behind you, half-squirming as she watches you with something akin to desperation.

The ominous pit of nervousness you’ve been carrying in your stomach for the last hour suddenly doesn’t feel so irrational.

“I’m so sorry.” Kate whispers after a heavy pause, fingers fidgeting.

“Upstairs… where?” The words taste bitter on your tongue.

“In one of the bedrooms. The one closest to the bathroom.” She looks mortified, unable to meet your gaze.

You shove past her before you can even fully digest what’s going on, barreling through drunk students and ignoring their startled stares.

The strobe lights fracture the room into flashes of color—violet, red, sickly white—laughter spiking through the air in uneven bursts. The sharp tang of beer clings to everything, mixing with the artificial sweetness of fake fog that curls low around your ankles. It should feel alive, electric. Instead, it dulls to a distant, muffled hum as Kate’s words settle heavy and cruel deep in your chest.

Step after step, heavier than the last, your chest tightens, each breath catching halfway in, sharp and fast. For a moment, it feels like the world simply... pauses. It’s just you and the growing ache in your throat, threatening to spill over.

You hear Yelena screaming your name as you burst into the bedroom on the left. It’s empty, dark, and the bed is intact. Heart hammering painfully against your ribs, you storm into the next room, scaring a couple of people lingering nearby for a moment of intimate quiet. The door slams against the wall with a splintering bang, and in that moment you swear your heart stutters—one missed beat, maybe two—before it kicks back in, pounding wildly like it’s trying to break free. The sound rushes up into your ears, a violent, dizzying thrum that makes your head spin.

You stand there, frozen in the doorway, not knowing whether to scream, to run, or to crumple right there and let the floor open up and swallow you whole.

Maybe throwing up seems the best option as you take in the disgusting scene before you.

Nathan turns, confused by the sudden commotion. A girl is straddling him, but the light is too dim to recognize her, though you can clearly see how her skirt is bunched at her hips, exposing her lower half. The moment his eyes meet yours, he roughly shoves her away, causing her to squeal as she falls on the other side of the bed. Nathan’s weak voice calls out your name, but you are already turning away. 

The scene is quite pathetic, Yelena thinks, as Nathan clumsily tries to run after you, but he keeps stumbling into the pants creased around his ankles.

“Wait—fuck, baby wait! It’s not what it looks like!” He shouts as he runs in the living room, fingers clumsily trying to zip up his pants.

“Shut up, Barnes.” Yelena’s voice cuts sharp from the stairs, Wanda and Kate close behind her. The music fades further, letting nearby partygoers witness the drama.

With a sharp inhale, you stop right in the entryway, fingers curling into fists at your sides to steady the chaos inside you. You refuse to give him the satisfaction to see you cry.

In the spur of the moment, you decide to turn around, lips parted to tell him to go to hell, but a shriek erupting from the top of the stairwell stops you.

“You’re an asshole!” The girl stands there, mascara smeared and skirt hastily pulled down.

“Jesus Christ.” Wanda tiredly rubs the bridge of her nose.

The girl’s face seems familiar, but you can’t place her. Maybe she used to go to high school with you? One of the many forgettable faces of your past.

“You’re a fucking liar, Nathan Barnes. You promised you’d tell her about us. You promised me you’d leave her.”

Someone in the crowd gasps, but it barely registers.

“What the fuck, Nathan?” You grimace, repulsion tightening your chest.

“I—I didn’t…” His voice falters, head turning back and forth between the two of you, a mix of shame and panic flashing across his features.

“I’ll tell you what he did, since he’s too much of a coward.” The girl interrupts, slowly stepping down the stairs. “We’ve been dating since March and he kept promising me he’d break up with you. He told me he did it as soon as he got here... But apparently it was just another lie.” She throws him a look of disdain, arms crossed to her chest.

Since March.

He’s been dating another girl for eight months. No. He’s been cheating on you with another girl for eight months.

The floor crumbles under your feet.

The constant busyness, the unanswered texts, the lack of intimacy, all the weekends you decided to come back here and he never once seemed to care about tagging along, not even texting you to make sure you had safely arrived, knowing your car is literally a jalopy.

The image of her straddling him flashes behind your eyes over and over again, cold sweat rushing down your back as you realize how many times they have acted like that undisturbed, how Nathan was about to have sex with her while his girlfriend was in the same house, waiting for him downstairs.

You refuse to meet some stranger’s pitiful eyes, or worse… their small smirk, the amusement dancing in their eyes. Somewhere nearby, people keep laughing, dancing, kissing, while you stand there, in front of the person you wasted two years of your life on, feeling like the butt of a scornful joke. 

Guilt has been eating you alive since you doubted his words that day, yet he has been betraying your trust all along. Something shatters inside you at the realization that maybe everything you shared at first—the whispered plans for traveling the world together, the way his hands always found yours under the table, the warmth of him wrapped around you late at night—was never real at all.

You feel exposed, far beyond anything physical. The rawest parts of you burn under all these curious eyes, laid bare in a way you can’t hide from. You need to cover yourself, to disappear behind something—anything—a blanket, a jacket, a closed door.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you force out one last question.

“All the assignments, the projects—were they real at all? Or were they just a cover to fuck another girl behind my back?”

Nathan opens his mouth but doesn’t answer. His pleading brown eyes only stoke the fire in your veins, looking at you like he deserves your sympathy.

Shaking your head, you sprint toward the door, ignoring your friends’ desperate calls of your name. They try to reach you, but there’s too many people gathered there to watch the scene like a movie. By the time Yelena, Wanda, and Kate get to the front yard, you’ve long vanished into the dark.

Yelena curses out loud in Russian, stomping back inside to give that asshole a piece of her mind, and Wanda and Kate can only hurry after her, trying to stop the blonde from sending Nathan to the hospital.

Walking in the biting October cold clears your mind a little, even as the tears keep flowing. You hadn’t even noticed them until you had to slow down, your feet hurting in those damn boots. Sniffling, you keep your head down; despite being alone in the dark, that mix of humiliation and disbelief still makes your skin burn in shame. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet thoughts of how stupid you’ve been cloud your mind.

How could you have been so blind? All the signs were there, and you chose to ignore them.

That girl… she went to your university, which is why she felt so familiar. She’s pretty, you can’t deny it. And yet, was that enough for you to deserve that? Was she funnier than you? More caring? Better in bed? What were you lacking? You’ve always considered yourself average-looking—decent, sure, but not someone guys have ever fought over. You flirted, went on a few dates, but it never went beyond that. Maybe someone had a crush on you at some point, but you never knew.

It hurt your confidence, of course, but then Nathan happened, and that was your first mistake, probably—tying your self-worth to the way he treated you.

And now you can’t even go home and cry yourself to sleep. Kate was the only one with a purse, so you left all your belongings with her, except for your phone since you were waiting for Nathan to text you.

Going back is not an option, it feels like walking into a cage full of starving lions, especially since Nathan will probably be there still—either with her, or already laughing the whole thing off. She didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by his betrayal. If you were in her place, you’d be questioning him, wondering if you’d be on the other side as well someday.

You’ve seen it before. Your aunt was miserable after forgiving her cheating husband. He begged, cried, swore it was a moment of weakness. She was too busy with her job and he needed her, that’s how he justified himself.

So he fell into another woman’s vagina.

Your mom refused to speak to her for a while after her decision to not divorce him. Your dad then eventually convinced her to change her mind: that good-for-nothing was likely to do it again, and she couldn’t risk leaving her sister alone and vulnerable. Four months later, your aunt came home early from a work trip to surprise him—but she was the one whose heart fell to her feet.

He was in their bed with one of her closest friends.

After witnessing and experiencing that kind of pain first-hand, you can’t bring yourself to wish the same hurt on her. Even if she knew Nathan was already taken, even if she willingly started a relationship with him. But why would a single girl like her worry about your relationship when your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—didn’t seem to care in the first place?

You sigh, thinking of your parents. They’re out of town for your dad’s birthday. You can’t call them at one in the morning to tell them what happened. It wouldn’t be fair; you know they’d drop everything to come home if they knew and you can’t ruin the rare time they decide to treat themselves. After working so hard, this trip is the only moment of peace they are willing to indulge in once a year.

The back of your hand brushes over your raw cheeks in a useless attempt to clean yourself a little, tears still clouding your vision as you stare down at your phone screen, your finger hovering over that one contact that could save you, but shame pins you in place.

How can you face Mr. Barnes? Calling him now doesn’t just mean worrying him, but also possibly interrupting his night with… well, a woman. He’s a single, attractive man with a big house all to himself. Nathan was supposed to stay over, so who knows what the older man had planned for tonight?

It also means telling him about what happened.

The possibility of him defending his son makes a lonely tear slide down your cheek. No, Mr. Barnes would never justify a cheater. He’s too smart, too emotionally intelligent for that, even if the cheater in question is his own child.

Taking a deep breath, your mind races, torn between desperation and hesitation. The thought of disturbing him like a little kid makes you want to crawl into a hole and never get out, but it’s freezing outside and you are starting to not feel your toes. Your finger trembles with indecision above the screen, until reflex takes over. It presses the call icon.

You gasp, quickly bringing the phone to your ear when it immediately comes alive with his muffled voice.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? Do you need something?” His deep, serene voice eases the wild thumping in your chest at once.

Right, another thing about Mr. Barnes. He calls you sweetheart, and seldom, other cute pet names slip by that make your traitorous heart flutter and your cheeks burn.

When you sniffle, he calls your name urgently.

“Are you busy?” You swallow, biting your trembling bottom lip.

“No. Never for you. What happened? Do you need me to come get you?”

You nod, then let out a frustrated huff when you remember he can’t see you. The faint clink of keys reaches your ears, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. You haven’t even replied and he’s already getting ready to come for you.

“Please… if you’re not busy.” You mumble.

“I told you I’m not. Don’t worry.” You hear a door close. Moments later, his voice returns. “Are you alright? Are you safe?”

You glance around, telling him you’re sitting on a bench in front of Ms. Garcia’s house. From his silence, you can gather his shock—you’re almost thirty minutes away from Rachel’s place.

“Why are you there, sweetheart? Is Nathan with you?” His words are slightly distorted by the rumble of the car engine.

“No, I’m alone. He’s still at the party.” You shiver as the cold metal of the bench presses against your bare thighs. “And I’m alright. Just tired.”

He doesn’t need all the details right now. The least you can do is explain in person.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he murmurs under his breath. “You’ve been crying.”

You simply hum at his statement, expecting him to hang up, but instead he waits, respecting your silence, keeping the line open rather than leaving you alone in the dark.

When the familiar black SUV pulls up in front of you only a few minutes later, your body reacts instinctively. You hang up and watch as Mr. Barnes steps out. Before you can even find the right words to thank him, he’s around you, holding you close against his broad chest. Your lips part to whine out a pathetic apology, but the sound dies in your throat. Tears fall again, soaking his shirt.

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t know who to call,” you sniffle, swallowing an embarrassing sob. “My parents are out of town and Kate has my keys, but I didn’t want to go back there—”

“Hey, hey.” He gently pries your head away with a hand on your cheek, enough to examine your devastated eyes. “I’ve always told you I’m here if you ever need something. Anything. So don’t you dare apologize. I’m so proud you remembered that and called me, sweetheart.”

Your gaze drops at once on a random spot on his neck, unsure what to say next.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” His other hand cradles your left cheek now, thumbs brushing away the lingering tears at the corners of your eyes. You shake your head lightly, jaw tightening at the thought.

“Alright, alright. We’ll go at your pace.” He frowns. “Do you want to come home? It’s freezing and you’re—”

The next words die in his throat as his blue eyes sweep over your body like they are acknowledging the rest of you for the first time that night. Now you feel so foolish for not bringing a jacket. Despite the cold, you’d known Rachel’s house would feel like a furnace, packed with sweaty dancers and drinkers. A dramatic escape in the middle of the night was not in your plans and yet here you are.

Even in the middle of your internal scolding, you can easily notice how Mr. Barnes blinks, seemingly snapping out of whatever thought had caught his entire attention, only to quickly glance back up at your face. Being under the lamppost, it’s easy to spot the blush creeping across his cheeks.

You’re his son’s girlfriend, of course he would feel awkward with you so close and barely covered.

“I guess you didn’t want to hide your pretty outfit.” He comments instead, amusement lacing his tone. Your eyes widen. “You’re always beautiful, by the way. A jacket wouldn’t have ruined it.” He winks as his hand comes to rest on your back, guiding you toward his car. You’re still processing his tone and its meaning as he opens the passenger door to help you inside.

He’s never explicitly called you beautiful before, compliments used to stop at your outfits or your makeup.

Once inside, the engine hums to life, but before he takes care of anything else, he makes sure to turn on the heat. You shiver, muscles slowly loosening as the warmth seeps through your chilled body.

“Better?” He glances at you, receiving a simple, grateful nod as answer.

“Fuck, should have thought about bringing you one of my jackets.” He was probably talking to himself but you catch it anyway, pressing your palms lightly to your thighs. It’s just a jacket—nothing grand—but the thought behind it makes you breathe slightly more easily.

Bucky maneuvers the vehicle on the roadway, unhurriedly driving back the way you came from. A sense of dread abruptly washes over you at the realization that you are about to pass by your neighborhood, right in front of Rachel’s house. You try to be as subtle as possible when you slide down the seat, at least to not be completely recognizable from the outside, your head turning toward the window as if that could be enough to disappear completely. Bucky notices anyway, keeping a careful eye on you as you drive by the mansion looming chaotic in the dark.

“I saw Nathan with another girl.” You blurt out once Rachel’s house is at a safe distance. The car swerves slightly, your stomach twisting with a hint of fear as your hand instinctively reaches to grab the edge of the seat. Your worried eyes fly to Bucky, meeting his shocked gaze.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” He clears his throat. “How…”

You take a deep breath, eyes back on the road, feeling too ashamed to face him.

“Kate caught him in one of the bedrooms upstairs. When I opened the door… a girl was straddling him. They were kissing, and… probably about to do other things.” Another lump swells in your throat. “Apparently all those assignments and projects were just an excuse.” You scoff out a humorless laugh, the back of your hand already brushing a lonely tear away.

“They’ve been together since March, and he promised her he’d break up with me soon.”

Each word feels like biting broken glass.

From your peripheral vision, you see his body stiffen, knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. Apologies form on your tongue as a reflex, but why? For calling him to pick you up? For having to be the one to reveal such a horrible thing about his son? You don’t even know, yet his crushed expression is enough to make you feel terribly guilty.

Then, something happens that completely catches you off guard.

His hand reaches across the console, covering yours, fingers intertwining.

Mr. Barnes is good with words, yet that simple gesture is worth more than any speech right now. Tears come back with such a violent speed that shocks even you, but you try your best to bite them back, mortified about the whole situation.

Confused, you watch the car steer, eventually coming to a stop at the roadside. Bucky exhales heavily once the engine is turned off, plunging you both into darkness. His body then turns toward you as best he can in the cramped space.

“Can you look at me, sweetheart? Please?” His voice is barely a murmur, fingers squeezing yours gently. Reluctantly, you lift your chin, catching him in your peripheral vision. “Thank you.”

“I know you’re hurting right now, and words might feel meaningless in the face of this betrayal, but please… listen to me carefully.” His blue eyes burn fiercely. “Sometimes people don’t know how to treat something good the way it deserves, but that says nothing about its worth. I’m deeply disappointed in Nathan. I didn’t raise him to behave like this, and believe me, I will have words with him. Very strong ones.” You squeeze his hand back, the corners of your lips lightly lifting despite pain stabbing your chest.

“Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Barnes. Your words are never meaningless to me,” you murmur, frowning at your knees. “He is an adult, responsible for his own actions, and still chose to do this. He could’ve ended things with me before starting something with her, but instead took the easy way out without remorse.”

Bucky slumps back against the seat with a slow sigh, staring absent-minded at the dashboard. Eventually, a humorless laugh falls from his lips. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Your eyebrows jump up at the bitterness in his tone, and he allows a rueful smile. “My ex-wife cheated on me. That’s why we divorced.”

Your jaw drops.

“Nathan was thirteen and he still had to witness how much his mother’s choices affected me. It wasn’t easy for him. I never spoke badly of her, never kept him from seeing her... but he still chose to stay with me.” He sighs tiredly, head softly falling back against the headrest. “They only went back on speaking terms a couple years ago. Nathan felt like she betrayed him as well… refused to even text her at Christmas.” His neck turns just enough to look at you. “Has he ever told you that?”

You shake your head, swallowing.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t know… Nathan never talks about his mom, much less about your divorce.” Your words are not louder than a whisper.

His hand squeezes yours. “No need to apologize, sweetheart. The scars are there, but they don’t hurt anymore.”

Mr. Barnes straightens up after that, looking more resolute. “My point is, I’ve been through that kind of betrayal. For a long time, I was miserable, frustrated with her for ruining what we had, and with myself for missing the signs. And Nathan… he was the only good thing to come out of that marriage.” His gaze is fixed on yours with newfound strength, his voice tender. “Some days you’ll be angry at the world. You’ll stay in bed and cry your heart out, you’ll even miss the happy moments with him. But it won’t last forever.”

You clear your throat at that, staring down at the glove box for what feels like minutes. “Is it wrong,” you start quietly. “That I’m more upset about him betraying my trust than actually losing him?”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head slightly, the simple gesture letting you know he’s here for you, ready to listen.

“He was always busy, and deep down I knew something was off. I guess… unconsciously, I’ve been trying to distance myself emotionally so I wouldn’t get hurt.” Your eyes widen at once, quickly trying to correct yourself as you realize you are still talking to his dad. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked Nathan and I’m shaken by what he did. He built a whole, new relationship behind my back. But…” You sigh, shoulders falling in dejection.

“I’m not actually sad about losing him.” You whisper. Saying that out loud only makes you feel more uncomfortable, causing you to shift your weight in your seat in a last attempt to ground yourself. “I don’t even know if I’m making any sense right now.”

“You’re angry because he made you doubt your self-worth.” He says softly.

“Yes!” You exclaim, facing him with surprise.

Bucky nods pensively. “And you’re upset because he betrayed your trust.”

“Exactly.” The dam breaks. “I’ve been feeling guilty since that day I followed him to the library to see if he was actually there to study. I felt awful for a whole month! I was doubting all the work his professors piled on him while he was breaking his back on those damn books. But in reality he was just fucking someone else the whole time.” Your hand flies to your mouth as you hear him chuckle, eyes wide at your own honesty. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be so crude.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I feel so bad whenever I curse around you.”

You share a soft, meaningful laugh, before the car falls into a comforting silence.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You murmur, taking a deep breath. He returns your smile, squeezing your fingers once more before starting the engine.

“You know I’m here for you. Always.”

He claps his hands lightly, and somehow it feels like that dark cloud pressing on your head has finally lifted. “C’mon, let’s get you home so you can get more comfortable and rest. You had a long night.”

“Are you sure you’re not busy? I don’t want to crash your free night—”

“Are you kidding? I love your company. And you didn’t interrupt anything, I was just watching a movie and eating some leftover candy, waiting for a text that you got home safely.”

Once the car is parked in its usual spot, Mr. Barnes is quick to get out and jog to your side to open your door. You whisper a shy thank you, still not used to all these caring gestures.

“Alright, here we are.” He breathes out, shoulders relaxing as if the familiar smell of his home alone is enough to soothe any worries. He leaves his sneakers in the shoe rack by the entrance and you follow suit, placing your boots neatly in the space he vacated for your shoes long ago, back when Nathan had started bringing you over more frequently.

“Are you hungry? Wanna shower first?”

You press your palm to your temple, eyes closing briefly. “A shower would be perfect. I feel sweaty from the party and I’m pretty sure my clothes still smell of weed.”

He doesn’t ask if you drank—he knows you despise the taste of alcohol, but also any type of substance that could make you lose control. He simply leaves a glass of water and some Advil on the kitchen counter, then jogs upstairs to grab some clean clothes for you. You take your time finishing the glass, savoring the simple act of rehydrating after walking and crying for so long in the cold.

Once you are alone in the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror makes you flinch. Your makeup is completely ruined: lipstick smudged at the corners, eyeshadow streaked under your eyes, mascara melted. The thought of Mr. Barnes seeing you like this has you shuddering in shame, but you push the embarrassment aside for now. You’re too drained.

A sealed bottle of micellar water and a package of cotton pads on the counter catch your eye immediately. With a relieved sigh, you remove the ruined makeup, silently making a mental note to thank him for his thoughtfulness.

The warm water cascading over your skin and the floral scent of the products tidily lined up on the shower caddy are enough to ease the strain in your muscles. Once dry, you pull on the black shirt he left on the small stool and a pair of boxers, adjusting them according to your comfort. You are actually so relieved he provided you with his own clothes, instead of Nathan’s. Making sure you’re presentable enough before heading downstairs, you glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before you have to take a second look. Because on the far left of the counter sit unopened some products you recognize too well: a moisturizer for your skin type, a gentle cleanser, some neutral-smelling deodorant, and a purple toothbrush. All pristine and unopened.

Did he buy all this for you? Even after nearly a year since the last time you slept here?

Your chest tightens at the thought of someone caring enough to remember such simple, forgettable things about you, taking a deep breath before diving into your skincare routine.

When you enter the kitchen, the breathtaking sight of Mr. Barnes’ broad back makes you pause momentarily. The domesticity of it all—him cooking for you, the quiet familiarity of being surrounded by his smell in his home—fills you with a strange fuzzy feeling that leaves your skin pleasantly warm and tingly. You’ve never been here at this time of the day, alone with him, clad in his clothes.

Turning around, he places the plate he was previously arranging on the table, before he glances up at you. Smiling, his lips part as if he wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when his blue eyes fall on your naked legs. Clearing his throat, the man abruptly turns back around to swipe the counter.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thank you for the clothes.” You sit, eyeing the plate with interest. “And the sandwich.” You add with a smile. Your stomach aches a little from all the sugary soft drinks, so a proper meal will only do you good.

“They look good on you.” He mumbles, glancing down. Then, with a playful smirk. “Still, I miss the Barbie outfit.” You giggle, unsure whether he’s teasing or truly means it.

“Oh, and the hygiene products—thank you for those as well. When did you get them?” You quip, devouring half of the bread as if you haven’t eaten in ages. 

“I’ve been stocking them since you started staying over, just in case you forgot something.” He shrugs with another effortless smile.

Bucky knew you were going to spend multiple nights here and wished for you to be comfortable and safe in his home. Simple as that.

You had to pack an overnight bag with all your things whenever you went over to Nathan’s apartment. It never occurred that you could just leave something behind, because it was so sporadic for you to spend the night there. Plus, he lives with three other people, so you didn’t want to intrude. Yet, now that you’re realizing how much Mr. Barnes has been going out of his way to take care of you, you can’t help but think about how many things Nathan took for granted.

Your own boyfriend.

Only when you finally settle on the sofa do you realize how much your body has been hurting from all the dancing and the walking. It instantly becomes one with the cushions.

Your phone lights up once on the coffee table, half of Wanda’s message visible from here. You texted the group chat to let them know you’re safe with a friend. Yelena will understand immediately, you are certain of that. Your eyes mindlessly catch a really sorry, but you don’t have the energy to deal with the situation right now. They know you’re alright and sheltered from the cold, and that’s enough for tonight.

The TV drones on in the background; a mediocre horror movie is playing on cable, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on it—or anything else, for that matter. Not when Mr. Barnes is sitting comfortably beside you, the warmth of his body tempting you to move closer. For a moment, it feels like he’s glancing at you as intently as you’ve been watching him.

The moment you properly look up and he doesn’t shy away, the air between you hums with an unspoken, charged tension. You must be imagining things, half delirious from exhaustion, because he keeps glancing back and forth between your eyes and your lips, something akin to desire burning hot in his eyes.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly the space separating you disappears. The first touch is tentative, a timid brush of hands, and then, as soon as the tips of your noses touch, he is pressing against you like he’s been craving your lips for ages. One of his hands cups the back of your head, guiding you closer until your fingers tangle in his shirt.

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this right. It shouldn’t...

It shouldn’t happen.

“Wait—” You gasp, abruptly pulling back. Your eyes snap open, staring at him with horror dawning on your features. “W—What… what are we doing?”

“Shit,” Bucky mumbles under his breath, chest heaving as he tries to regain a crumb of control on his raging heartbeat. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“Oh my God, I’m a terrible person!” You slump forward, hiding your face in your hands as hot tears threaten to spill again.

“Hey, c’mon now sweetheart.” His shaky palm smoothes over your back. “Why would you be a terrible person? You did nothing wrong.”

Your head snaps towards him, regarding him with red and glassy eyes.

“I just kissed my ex-boyfriend’s dad!”

“If anything, I kissed you.”

“We both leaned in!”

Bucky moves closer, taking your other hand in his. “Okay, okay. Let’s take a deep breath now—”

“Oh God, if Nathan finds out—”

A firm call of your name has your shoulders fall down in defeat. Bucky’s hand travels to the back of your neck, gently turning your face until you are forced to look at him.

“You know you don’t owe him anything, right?” His voice is grounding, calm, but it’s not enough to quell the storm in your head.

“Why are you so calm? You’re his dad! I shouldn’t feel—” You pause abruptly, swallowing thickly. The way his eyes are wide with hope makes you want to sob in his arms.

“Feel what?” He urges, squeezing your hand.

“I…” 

“Feel what, sweetheart?” Shame keeps your throat closed, physically unable to utter any sound. So Bucky takes the matter into his own hands, cradling your cheeks with both rough palms.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you ran in here, smiling about your A on that paper about online language evolution you spent weeks stressing over.” Bucky admits softly. Your breath hitches.

“You looked at me with stars in your eyes,” he continues with a proud smile. “And I felt so lucky to be part of such a happy moment for you. And then you hugged me and believe me, I tried to ignore it, but I just felt… complete.”

His voice drops to a whisper. “I felt like a dirty pervert whenever my eyes fell on the curve of your waist. Whenever I imagined the adorable sighs you’d make against my lips. Whenever you strutted here in my house with those damn revealing shirts, jealous that the whole neighborhood got the chance to admire your beautiful cleavage.” Sighing, his eyelids flutter shut for a second, as if trying to focus.

“You were Nathan’s girlfriend and here I was, resenting my own son for getting to have you like this. For being the one to call you his.”

He lets his words hang, heavy with honesty. “I promised myself I’d keep my distance. But no one ever compared to your pretty eyes, your passion, your energy.” He swallows, kind eyes flicking once between your eyes and your parted lips.

“Nathan had his chance and failed to take care of you, to love you like you deserve. He was so cruel, baby, and I can’t allow myself to stand by and watch you suffer when I’m right here, begging you to let me show you how much I am enamored of you. Let me be the man you deserve by your side. Someone who knows what you need just by looking into your eyes.”

“And what do I need now, James?” His breath hitches, not expecting his first name to sound so right on your tongue.

Bucky, James, Jamie… He doesn’t care. He just needs you to demolish that already fractured wall of propriety that has kept you apart all along. 

“My lips on yours.” His blue eyes shine, smitten, and that is enough to give you that confidence boost you’ve been looking for a while. Your fingers graze his jaw for a fleeting moment, before they grab his shirt to pull him forward.

You meet him in an urgent kiss, your other hand tangling in his hair, pulling just enough that the guttural sound clawing out of his throat has your thighs squeezing close. His tongue roams freely in your mouth, until oxygen leaves you entirely. You kiss for what feels like a lifetime, your lips fitting together like the final two lost pieces of a puzzle.

His palms fondle the curve of your waist until he finds the courage to guide you on his laps with a hand on your thigh. A moan is muffled against your mouth when your covered core comes into contact with his crotch, his bulge the proof that you’re not the only one affected. One hand sneakily trails up your torso, resting ultimately on the side of your breast, a gentle squeeze of your flesh eliciting a gasp out of you, so you take the chance to grind down on Bucky, the teasing movement leaving him moaning under you.

When you separate, he regards you with blown pupils, his chest raising and lowering with ragged breaths. 

Your fingers finally allow themselves to do what they’ve secretly wished for since the moment you sat on this couch: starting from the gentle creases on his forehead, they tenderly trace down his dark brows, until they reach the sharp profile of his nose, his blushing cheekbones, the trim stubble on his jawline. His mouth parts just a fraction when your thumb strokes his bottom lip, his next breath shaky, frightened to interrupt this sublime, quiet connection. 

“You’re stunning, James.” You utter softly with a faint smile. His eyes flutter shut with a sigh when your fingers move then on to his collarbone. Shivering, the older man wraps one muscular arm around your back, bringing you close, until he can comfortably lean in to return the favor, lavishing the column of your throat with wet kisses. Your head falls back, brokenly gasping each time his teeth gently graze your skin.

“You’re driving me crazy with all these cute, sinful sounds.” He growls, a grin blooming on your mouth at his poorly concealed desperation. The hand firmly resting on your ribs slowly travels down to your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind; then over your half-bare thighs, until it lands on your covered ass. Your gasp gets promptly swallowed by his mouth when he hungrily squeezes the flesh, encouraging the circular movements of your hips against his erection. The sound of his low groan makes your pussy throb, suddenly shifting your focus on the embarrassing dampness of the boxers you’re wearing.

When was the last time someone touched you as if you were their most precious treasure?

This time your kiss is more animalistic, all teeth and tongue, than the ones you previously shared, a testament of your growing arousal. 

“Baby,” he breathes out, cradling your cheek to assure you’re making eye contact. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Mmh?” Your movements are a little more lethargic after the way his hands have gently played with your curves, your fingers weakly curling into the fabric covering his broad shoulders. The ghost of his palms on your chest and thighs still tingles on your skin, and you slightly tilt your head when he starts talking again, regarding him with half-lidded eyes.

“We can do whatever you want. You wanna watch a movie? I’m already opening Netflix. You wanna sleep by yourself? I’ll make the bed in the guest room right away. We can cuddle all night if you’d let me—” 

“What if I want you to fuck me?” The words feel like cotton candy in your mouth, yet you don’t miss the way his eyes widen.

There is a brief, meaningful pause.

“Are you sure?” His voice shakes a little as his hands squeeze your hips. 

“Please.” Your sigh almost has him maneuvering you on your back to see what other sweet sounds he can coax out of you. Just for him.

“Yeah? You’ve been thinking about it, sweetheart?” You simply hum, slowly nodding. “About all the ways I could make you come on my tongue?” He whispers, towering over you as his firm fingers keep your chin raised, preventing you from hiding.

Squirming in his lap, you are forced to look him in the eye as your slick steadily soils his boxers, cheeks scorching hot with a hint of mortification.

“Did you think about me when you were fingers deep into your sweet pussy? Imagining it was my cock making you scream?” He continues calmly. “Did you come like a good girl with my name on your lips, mmh?”

You whimper, nodding jerkily. “I was... so lonely.”

“Well,” he chuckles smugly. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore, pretty girl.”

A squeal claws out of your throat as Bucky lifts you without much of a fuss. You keep your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, your arms circling his neck with newfound strength. Moaning, he has to stop multiple times on the stairs as you can’t resist leaving small pecks all over his jaw, teeth softly biting the most sensitive spots.

It’s the first time you cross the threshold of his bedroom, yet it doesn’t feel as awkward as it should. 

You completely ignore the big walk-in closet and his en-suite bathroom as soon as you are placed in the center of the large bed, his six-foot frame covering yours without actually resting his full weight on you. Your lips meet again and this time, his palm travels under the shirt you are wearing, finding your bare chest. 

“James, wait—” You moan, hips twitching up as his fingers graze your already erect nipple. You’re now fully lying on your back with his hard body straddling you, but a weak push against his chest is enough for Bucky to immediately lift his torso up. 

“Are you oka—”

“More than okay, I feel so good. I just—I need to make something clear.” This time it’s you who cradles his jaw, swallowing thickly. “I like you, James. I think I have for a while, actually. It wasn’t just... pure admiration, or friendship. And this,” your finger wriggles between the two of you, pointing at your chests. “It’s not a one-night stand for me. I don’t want you to think you’re... some sort of revenge; much less a rebound.”

“This is a dream come true.” He mumbles against your lips, caressing the back of your head in awe. 

“I’m gonna make this right, okay sweetheart?” Bucky kisses your forehead, then focuses on both cheeks. “I’m gonna take care of you.” His mouth trails south, on your neck. “Play with your sweet pussy until you are nice and ready to take me.” Your eyes roll back, shuddering at his low voice whispering right in your ear.

“Worship your body until you are left shaking and gasping in my arms, orgasm after orgasm.” The fingers trailing up your thigh finally reach the inner part, his thumb stroking the wet fabric right where you need him the most.

“Then I’m gonna fill you up,” your hips buckle up, causing him to huff out a chuckle. “Yeah? You like the sound of it, angel? Like the idea of me stuffing you full with my cum until you can’t take a step without it sliding down your thighs?” 

“Bucky, please.” You breathe out, trembling fingers squeezing his forearm. 

His shaky exhale gives his excitement away, despite his confident and collected behavior. He makes sure to look in your eyes for his next words.

“Gonna take you on a date tomorrow, alright?” You simply nod, swallowing as his other palm traces your bare stomach, lifting the shirt up and up, until your ribs are exposed to the warm air of his bedroom. “Give you everything you deserve and more.”

His smirk grows when you whine at his hands moving away to take off your top. A low groan falls from his lips when your naked chest is finally exposed. His large hands cup your tits without much thought, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples, eliciting another whimper out of you. You finally look up at his face, biting your bottom lip when you notice the way his eyes have turned darker, just like the ocean abyss, as they marvel at your breasts, perfectly fitting inside his palms. 

“Such gorgeous tits, sweetheart.” Your cheeks instantly heat up at the praise; overwhelmed by the sudden attention on your naked torso, you try to turn your chin away, but Bucky is faster. Cradling your cheeks, he turns your head until you are forced to stare right at him.

“None of that hiding shit.” He mutters against your breasts between kisses, your back arching the moment his tongue starts lavishing your nipples, until they are both raw and turgid. 

“You’re going to lie back and watch me as I ravish you, darling.” 

The boxers are suddenly discarded on the floor. It’s electrifying, being so open for Bucky to freely admire you. You’re quivering under his devoted gaze and tender smile, your breath hitching each time his fingers stroke a patch of burning skin as he takes his time in appreciating every single curve, every aspect that you might consider a flaw. To him, they’re new features to cherish. A way to learn you in the most intimate of ways.

You don’t even notice your eyelids fluttering shut. The rustling sound of fabric is what drives you to open them, just in time to catch Bucky throwing his shirt somewhere on the carpet.

He truly is handsome, with his strong physique and his muscles still defined, even with the small layer of fat covering most of it. 

With a lewd twist of his lips, his hands guide your legs up until your feet are firmly planted on the mattress and your knees bent. You are certain your heart is going to come out of your chest if Bucky doesn’t hurry up, rather focusing on pressing sweet, delicate kisses from your ankle to your thigh, just stopping short of where the skin turns wet with your arousal. His smirk is devilish when your breath hitches in frustration, taking his time in giving the same reverent treatment to your other leg.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

By the time he finally lies between your spread thighs, you are a shaky, sensitive mess, palms instantly covering your face when his nose almost touches your clit as his thumbs delicately part your folds.

Bucky lightly gasps. “Look how pretty you are. Already so wet for me, pretty girl?”

To be fair, you think this is the most aroused you’ve been in your whole life.

It’s mortifying how quickly your first orgasm approaches, it only takes Bucky a few languid circling movements on your clit and you’re already clenching, shivering against the beige bedsheets. 

Breathy moans and whimpers fall from your parted lips as his fingers toy with your nub some more. “You’re so responsive, darling.” He marvels, licking his lips. “But not yet.”

Your pathetic whine once he focuses on your hole only fuels his teases.

“I know, sweetheart.” He soothes, a thick finger gently tracing up and down the seam of your entrance. “Just a little more. I promise it’s going to feel so good later.”

And just like that, one of his digits is inside you. Your limbs go rigid, before his other arm comes up to rest on your belly, his thumb finding a leisure yet firm rhythm as it rubs your clit, grinning when your body melts at once against the cool sheets.

You sigh at the heavenly sensation, and Bucky feels the exact moment it starts feeling good, your hole slowly making room for another finger.

“There we go, pretty girl. Is that the right spot? You are gripping me so tight, darling, bet it feels so good, right?”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you can only manage a nod, your own hand shooting down to anchor itself to one of his shoulders as the tip of his tongue replaces the finger taunting your nub. The first swipe makes your head fall back. 

“Bucky!” A loud moan resounds through the dimly lit room, making his cock twitch. 

“Jesus Christ.” His growl vibrates pleasantly against your tender core. “Has anyone ever tasted you, baby?”

“No!” You sob at his fingers pushing against your sweet spot. 

“Fucking fools.” He snarls. “I’ll take care of you from now on, sweet girl. You won’t have to worry about anything.” He rasps out, feral with the thought of you making a mess on his face now that he has been blessed with your taste. “Just need to sit back and be good for me.”

You sniffle, the muscle of your stomach clenching to keep your orgasm at bay. You’re completely enraptured by his gentle yet solemn voice, not so different from the way his fingers play with your body. You subtly rock back on them, drawing him deeper and deeper.

“Oh I know, I know baby. I can feel you want to come.” Your hips twitch up, but the arm blanketing your belly keeps you nice and still as he enjoys his meal. His stubble leaves crude marks on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the rough friction causing your back to arch as high as his heavy arm allows.   

“You know, sweetheart felt like the safest option.” He pants, coming up for air, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Now I can finally call you whatever I want.” 

“Baby,” he leaves a kiss on your mound, half-lidded eyes fixed on your crumpled features. You couldn’t be more grateful for Nathan to have his mom’s eyes. “Darling,” his lips move on your clit next, sucking harshly. “Pretty girl—oh.”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the way you clenched at that, but of course the smug bastard does. 

“You like when I call you pretty girl?” You toss your head back as his thumb goes back to flick your nub. He can only coax out an embarrassed squeak that vaguely resembles a yes, but it’s enough to make Bucky smirk with pride.

“Yes, my pretty girl?” He relishes in the way you clench again, knowing you’re at your limit now. 

“Give it to me, angel. C’mon,” he growls, ravaging your clit with steady suckles. “I’ve been too well-behaved and patient.” 

Your head falls back against his pillow as your eyes fall shut, your first orgasm of the night hitting you hard and leaving you whimpering and dizzy under his palms. Your body tightens as wave after wave of pleasure seeps deep into your bones. Bucky groans at the sight of your pussy practically swallowing his damp fingers. You have never felt so good you could cry, the added sensation of his coarse beard against your sensitive core making your thighs tremble precariously around his head.

“Gorgeous.” Your nails cling onto his shoulder as you ride it out, humping his face with abandon under his soft grunts of encouragement. Bucky’s hips have been twitching against the mattress for a while now, unable to stay stoic in front of a goddess like you unraveling so sweetly before him. With a final teasing kiss to your clit, his thick fingers finally pull away.

You’re still breathless when Bucky lifts himself up, enough to pull you into another hungry kiss. Tasting yourself on someone’s tongue is definitely new, but not unpleasant. Not when a pathetic sound—half moan, half whine—claws out of your throat at your tongues dancing.

“Wish I could stay between your thighs all night.” He mumbles against your lips. Kissing Bucky… It’s just so lovely. Particularly like this, when he is towering over you, so close that the trimmed hair on his chest softly brushes your nipples as it heaves against yours. Your body lurches at the light stimulation on your raw nubs, completely missing the way one of his hands abandons your hip to swiftly discard his boxers. 

It’s only when Bucky gets into an upright position that you can finally catch a proper glimpse of his body. Even his cock is beautiful, for fuck’s sake, all flushed and thick, proudly curving up toward his belly. You gulp thickly at the sight of how majestic he looks, naked and kneeling for you, before you promptly shy away at the amusement twinkling in his eyes. His strong arms wrap around your thighs without a word, dragging you closer to him until his length lightly nudges your core. His tongue is inside your mouth before you can even let a full gasp out. Whining, your fingers slip into his hair as he teases the seam of your entrance with the tip. 

“So impatient.” He chuckles at your eager hips, before extending his arm towards the night stand.

“No!” Your fingers shoot forward and wrap around his bicep, causing Bucky to freeze entirely.

“I’m clean, got tested last month, and I’m on the pill.” You wheeze out, suddenly fearing your implicit request will be rejected. 

Bucky scrutinizes you with open surprise, before a long, pensive exhale slowly leaves his nostrils.

He places a sweet peck on your forehead. “I’m clean too. But are you sure, sweetheart?” His brows furrow in worry.

“I’ve never let anyone else do it without.” You swallow nervously, taking his hand in yours to guide it to your cheek, unconsciously leaning into his palm.

“Want you to be the first.” You whisper. 

“Fucking hell.” He grits out, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. It’s your turn to smirk now, until you feel the bulbous head of his cock insistent against your hole.

“Oh.” You squeak out once he slides in halfway without much resistance on your part. The sight of your glassy eyes rolling back has him groaning.

“Feeling alright, doll?”

“Fuck—yes, fuck, it’s just—big!” You gasp, stiffening at the burning stretch. “More... More, I need more please.”

Despite your begging, Bucky feeds you his cock gradually, fearing he could hurt you and possibly scare you away forever. Once he bottoms out, his jaw clenches at the mere realization of finally being inside his girl. Attempting to calm the both of you down is difficult, yet he finds the strength to still, his lips finding yours at once. His self-control weakens precariously the more your body grows pliant under his, your walls hugging his cock so tightly he can feel every little, eager movement. The lewd, wet sounds of your mouth moving against each other only spur him on as his hips involuntarily jerk forward.

“Bucky.” 

“Yes, yes, I know sweetheart.” He coos at your ragged breaths. “Gonna make the ache go away, mmh?”

Dragging his hips back slightly, Bucky carefully studies your expression, and only when he finds no sign of discomfort he lets himself slip right back in, harder. 

“Oh, sweet girl.” He grins at you clinging onto his shoulders. “That feels good, right? Hear how she sings for me?” Leaning in to plant his lips right over your damp brow, he allows his hips to slowly move back, biting back a loud groan at the squelching sound.

“Need to see you fall apart on my cock.” He grunts.

“Please, need—harder.” You cry out, eyes rolling back as the tip nudges your sweet spot. Your moans grow higher and louder once he starts pounding you earnestly, your slack body trapped under his broad one, sliding up and down the mattress with each brutal thrust. 

Bucky loses himself a little the moment he buries his nose in the damp skin of your neck, licking and kissing away the salty tang of your sweat, finally fucking you properly. The slapping noise of your skins meeting shamelessly fills the bedroom, mixing with your labored breaths and desperate moans. 

“Shit, doll.” His growl vibrates against your pulse. “Need this all the time, need to hear your sweet squeals as I carve a place for my cock inside your cute little pussy.”

The way he kisses your mouth like a starving man, and how his cock fits so perfectly inside you, stirs a warm feeling inside your chest, far too tender compared to the throbbing ache in your belly. 

“Such a good girl for me, taking all of me so well.” He gushes deliriously, smiling at your connected lower half. “My girl. My pretty, sweet girl.”

“Come with me?” You whimper, your nails digging into his soft skin as pleasure threatens to swallow you whole.

“Want to give you another one.” He pants, slowing down just enough to properly look you in the eye. “I’m not so young anymore, sweet thing.” The back of his hand brushes your cheek with such tenderness you almost forget the hard length plunged deep inside your pussy, before Bucky resumes his punishing pace, coaxing moan after moan out of you. 

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body tensing as your back arches, finally letting yourself go.

“That’s it!” He draws the words out, keeping his eyes firmly on your face. Your legs feel like they are falling to pieces, sore but still squeezing helplessly his waist.

“So tight, so good for me. You look like an angel, sweetheart. A pretty, fucked-out angel. Wish you could see how beautiful you look with a big cock giving you exactly what you need.” He can hardly fend off the devastating orgasm threatening to make him fall apart; yet he keeps going, wanting to prolong your pleasure as much as he can. It’s only when your whimper borders on painful and your palms shoot down to push at his chest, that his hips gradually come to a stop.

“Holy fuck.”

Your lower half is pleasantly aching by the time you are coming down from your earth-shattering climax. Bucky is still trying to dominate his instincts, jaw clenched and nose lightly tracing the soft skin of your collarbone, breathing in your scent. The primal urge to make you his violently rattles at the cage of care and protection that Bucky scrupulously crafted day by day, just to keep it contained. He’s at his limit, yet he always makes sure to take such good care of you first... your stunning, kind Mr. Barnes. 

But now it’s your turn to have your fun with him.

“Get up.” You mutter, pressing on his pecs. Panic briefly crosses his features as he clumsily lifts up on shaky muscles. You don’t let him go too far though, gently pushing him until he’s laying on his back. When you land directly on his crotch, cock still snuggled inside you, his eyes widen in astonishment. 

Everything feels more sensitive like this.  

You don’t care about your aching joints, nor about your sensitive and sore body still going through the aftershock, immediately setting a fast pace. You bounce up and down, biting your bottom lip as you stare at his parted lips. Your combined ragged breaths make you clench around his length, loving the way you sound together. Bucky is too busy pawing at your hips with one hand and groping your breast with the other to rationally think about something clever that would surely turn this debauched doll in his laps into the timid sweetheart he likes teasing.

You’re not sure how long it has been, but what makes you still is definitely not the sudden uncomfortable stiffness in your lower back, but rather a loud, muffled noise.

Like something falling, or... a door slamming shut.

You stop at once, your wide eyes meeting Bucky’s astonished gaze. His shock, though, has short life, as his hands land on both of your thighs with a resounding smack, encouraging you to go on.

“Bucky!” You reprimand him, gasping at the abrupt stimulation against your sweet spot. The older man under you slowly lifts his torso up, encircling your waist as he gently guides you down with him, until your forehead rests against his.

“We have already established that we like each other and that this,” he points between you two just like you did before. “Is not a one time thing.” You nod quickly, still panting and alarmingly aware of all the noises coming from downstairs: bare feet thumping against the tiles, a cabinet closing, a small sigh of relief after drinking some water.

“Don’t you want to give him a taste of his own medicine?” You can’t believe the shadow of malice falling over his eyes.

“He’s your son!” You whisper-shout, partial to his proposal but still too timid to go along with it.

“And you are my girl.” He growls with the same heat, his fingers digging into your skin bruisingly. “The same girl he cheated on for eight months.” 

Something shatters inside your chest. You don’t know if it’s the reality finally catching up to you, or the humiliation gradually mutating into a fiercer, hotter thirst for vengeance. Or maybe it’s the way this absolutely lovely man just defined you his girl so easily. No shame, no reservations.

Your palms press against his shoulders, urging him to fully lie back down. The slow smirk forming on his lips matches your playful smile.

“Fuck.” Your hips resume their pace with a newfound strength. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. Look at you, taking all my cock in your tight little pussy. My pretty girl, all mine.” His dirty words only spur you on, taking his hands to guide them back on your curves. In the meantime, the stairs creak under careful yet not-so-silent steps, as Nathan warily makes his way up. 

“Oh my God. Mr. Barnes, ’s so big.” You gasp, completely forgetting about your ex probably standing just outside the door. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s breath hitches at the name you used to softly utter with so much admiration and respect, now sounding so beautifully obscene as you cry for his cock. Faintly grinning down at him, you squeeze the hand fondling your breast, Bucky immediately looking up from your core engulfing his length so well. 

“Yeah? And whose pussy is this, mmh?” His fingers settle on your clit with determination, careful to put the right pressure, and you respond at once, riding him faster. 

“Yours! Fuck, always been yours!”

"Good girl.” He groans, using every bit of self-restraint to not succumb to the heavenly feeling of you desperately gripping his leaking cock.

“That’s it.” His jaw locks. “Come for me, my beautiful girl.” Your third climax of the night is the most intense. You shatter with a breathy shriek, collapsing against Bucky’s chest as he promptly catches you. The urgent noise of footsteps climbing down the stairs and the final bang of the front door slamming shut are completely disregarded as you fall apart in the most delicious of ways.

“Fuck, you just tightened so fucking hard, baby girl. Feel so fucking good coming all over my cock, you were made for me.” His head falls back, exposing the refined line on his throat. “Taking it so well.” You cling to his large frame, shaking and whimpering as his hips ruthlessly chase his own pleasure. 

“’M gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel.” The crack in his voice tells you he’s close, his hands keeping you nice and still as you try to relax, letting him use you.

“Bet you’ve never looked this lovely with him,” he hisses, his thrusts frantic and sloppy. “Never came this hard—shit, you’re gonna be leaking my cum from now on.”

With one last effort, your chin lifts enough for you to whisper right into his ear, “’M yours, Mr. Barnes. Always have been.” 

His grip around your thighs borders on painful, but you don’t care as long as his filthy groans turn louder and needier. His hips thrust up once, twice, and then he is holding you down as rope after rope of his cum reaches the deepest part of you. Your content sigh at the surreal sensation of finally being filled soothes Bucky a little, his body finally falling back against the mattress as his cock keeps twitching inside you.

“Shit,” his next exhale is harsh, tired eyes staring dumbfounded at the ceiling. “I’ve never come this hard in my life, sweet girl.” His palms trace a slow path up and down your back, and you silently thank him for staying inside you. You are not sure you’d react well if Bucky were to part from you at once after what you just did.

Your weak body settles on his little by little, until you are completely pliant in his arms.

“C’mere and give me a kiss, I miss my pretty girl.” His mouth moves against your temple, before his thumb and index finger tenderly hold your chin to coax you out of your hiding place.

You lazily yield, meeting him in a languid kiss that is more tongue than lips. 

“The best.” Kiss. “Prettiest.” Kiss. “Girl.” Kiss. “You’re so good to me, took it all inside and didn’t waste a single drop.” He playfully growls against your jaw, eliciting a tired giggle out of you.

“Bucky, it tickles.” You squirm slightly, wrinkling your nose when he leaves a gentle peck right on the tip. He couldn’t be more proud of how serene you look, safe and thoroughly fucked as you lie drowsily on his chest.

“So,” he sighs after a while, arms squeezing your waist as he beams up at the ceiling. “About that date…”

END NOTES: thank you so much for reading 💕

I mentioned it before but the inspiration for the title comes from this spectacular meme, of course lmaooo

[oliviawhen]

Job hunting in a hostile environment. ✨

[ominous-signs]

yeah.

[iguanodonwildman]

Hey! Just a reminder! AO3 does NOT have an app. This garbage was made by theives who steal fan artist’s work and sell it back to you.

“Oh, but it’s free!” There are ads. They are making money off of this. They are stealing from the creators you love and you are hurting those same creators if you use this app or any similar app.

Don’t use it. Report it at every opportunity.

[bucksangel]

Soft!Dom!Bucky Thoughts™️

i'm sorry I PROMISE i'm working on my 219 wips but I'm having too many thoughts about this to NOT yell about it

word count: 1.3k

warnings: even tho this doesn't have smut my fics are still 18+, lots of fluff, meet!cute, bucky falls in love immediately, bucky being a dom outside the bedroom, sub!reader, Daddy kink, i guess canon divergent!bucky??

soft!dom!bucky who is a natural born dom, a natural caregiver, loves being a provider. of course, he can go without that part of his life if his partner isn't into it, but it is apart of him nonetheless. it's not the control that gets him, it's the feeling in his chest knowing that someone trusts him enough to let go, to let him make bigger decisions because they trust his judgment. it's a warm feeling, one that wraps around his heart and pushes away any insecurities about himself as a person, one that allows him to breathe easier than he ever has.

soft!dom!bucky who meets you, his new neighbor that clearly needed help moving into your apartment but didn't seem to have anyone that could. it's sheer instinct that makes him grab a particularly heavy box that you're struggling with as you walk up the stairs because of course the elevator is out right now. you're shy but very grateful, thanking him on the way to your new apartment and when he insisted on helping with the rest of your things, telling him that you're going to repay him for all his hard work.

soft!dom!bucky who almost immediately sees you. he can just tell that you need someone to guide you, to support you. with just one look, he knows that you're the one he's been looking for, that your sweet nature and shining, curious eyes are going to haunt him for the rest of his life. the way you gently direct him on where boxes go, voice soft and timid, makes him want to hold you, to protect you, to let you continue looking at him like he's your savior for as long as you want.

soft!dom!bucky who considers "repayment" to be letting him cook you dinner that night. no ulterior motives, just knows that you'd probably order takeout since you haven't gone grocery shopping yet and wants to make sure you get actual sustenance. you try to decline, obviously, telling him that he's done so much for you already and you hate that you're already inconveniencing him like this, you don't want to bother him further. he lets you know that he'll respect it if you don't want to go to his place, but insists that you're not a bother, you could never be.

soft!dom!bucky who has you sit on the counter while he cooks, talking about nonsense and joking with each other until you feel more comfortable to open up to him, to show him who you really are. you've moved states, mentioned a not-supportive family but didn't elaborate, and bucky didn't push it. he tells you about himself, and you both swap little stories as the night goes on. he doesn't think he's ever felt more at peace as you sit at the table, finishing your first - and only - glass of wine, while he cleans up the mess. you offer to help, but concede easily when he softly tells you to make yourself comfortable, smiling to himself at seeing you melt so quickly.

soft!dom!bucky who knows you don't have a name for your feelings, that you haven't explored it fully. he learns this with more interactions he has with you, subtle signs here and there that lets him know you want someone to take the burden off your shoulders, but you don't have the knowledge or experience that he does. it takes quite a few meet-ups before you mutually decide that they're dates. going out to dinner or to the park more often, holding hands, cuddling on one of your couches. but you haven't kissed yet, and it's been weeks.

soft!dom!bucky who understands that you're too nervous to initiate a kiss, that you're still feeling out the relationship. he doesn't rush you, but when he drops you off at your door after a date at the carnival, he decides to make the first move. he asks, of course, a quiet, "can I kiss you, please?" that led to you whispering a pitiful, "yes, please," that led to him kissing you so softly that you barely even register his lips on yours. he rumbles pleasantly when your hands find a home on his chest, resting on his pecs as you let him slowly consume you.

soft!dom!bucky who starts introducing you to the dynamics in bits and pieces, assuring you through actions that you can trust him, letting you take the relationship at your own pace, but proving to you that he can provide for you, that you can let your guard down around him, that you don't have to worry about anything when he's around. and it works, you lean on him more, venting to him about your troubles, giving him your worries because you genuinely start to believe that he knows best, he can always help with whatever's wrong.

soft!dom!bucky who sits you down one evening, months into your relationship, and lays it all out. what it actually is, what it means for him, and what he wants with you. he just wants to let you feel at peace with him, wants to let you not think about things because you don't deserve the stress you're under, you deserve to be happy and taken care of, and bucky wants to be the person that does it.

soft!dom!bucky who has never felt happier at answering all your questions, is careful with his explanations and wanting you to fully understand how your relationship would shift. it doesn't take you too long to agree to it, seeming to be a little happier at being able to live like you always wanted to but could never explain.

soft!dom!bucky! who takes joy in pampering you. he loves watching you do face masks and only grumbles a little when you force him to join you on occasion. he loves drawing you baths, learns the perfect measurements for the epsom salts and bubbles to ensure you relax properly. he also loves cooking for you. specifically when you watch him cook. at a certain point he stops asking you what you want to eat because he knows what you like, and you trust him to make something you'll enjoy.

soft!dom!bucky who sets rules. they're mainly about your health, like drinking a certain amount of water a day, three square meals and a few snacks if you're still hungry, but no less. you have to get 8 hours of sleep, too, and you're not allowed to be on a screen of any kind thirty minutes before you're supposed to sleep. he always wants you to tell him when you're feeling down, whether physically sick or mentally drained, because he doesn't want you suffering alone.

soft!dom!bucky who, after a while, convinces you to call him Daddy. you'd mumbled it once, it was early in the morning and you were still half-asleep but bucky was getting out of bed to use the bathroom and you were pouting about it. your scratchy voice muttering, "daddy, nooooo," that had bucky diving back under the sheets and deciding he could pee later. right now, you need him. you didn't remember it when you awoke a few hours later, but had covered your face with your hands and squealed in embarrassment when he told you. it took some time and gentle encouragement, but you wake up one morning a little before him, but are content in watching him sleep. he does eventually wake up, and your voice is shy but sure when you tell him, "good morning, daddy."

soft!dom!bucky who is so fucking happy to have met you, who falls in love pretty quickly, who would fight tooth and nail to keep you safe. he promises to do so nearly every day, vowing to be by your side for the rest of your lives if you'll have him, as your daddy, as your dom, as your bucky.

[thenewavengersblog]

[societyfolklore]

Sirens and Sinners

Title: Sirens and Sinners

Pairing: Husband!Lee Bodecker  x Wife!Female Reader

Summary:  It’s too hot, so you go off with friends for a swim, that turns a little scandalous till Lee gets called out.. and finds you and your friends skinny dipping.. and he has feelings about it.

Word Count:  4.1k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Unprotected Sex, Public nudity, emotional turmoil (Lee has feelings) Slight Intox (You had some drinks in the sun) Bit of brat behaviour, Lee gets heckled by naked ladies…

A/N: For my girl @buckybarnesfic but also cos its FUCKING HOT HERE RIGHT NOW..

The sun was merciless, baking the cracked backroad and shimmering off the silver hood of Mary’s borrowed truck. Cicadas screamed from every tree, their buzzing a constant chorus that filled the heavy air as you kicked off your sandals and stepped onto the dusty edge of the lake. The ground was hot, the grass dry and prickly, but the water ahead glinted like salvation.

“I can’t believe this was your idea,” Donna said, shielding her eyes as she glanced toward the treeline. “Middle of the damn week.”

You grinned, dragging your tote bag higher onto your shoulder. “Exactly. No one’s gonna be here.”

Mary popped open the cooler and pulled out a beer. “No one but us sinners.”

Beth whooped and jumped off the weathered wooden jetty, sending up a spray of water as she disappeared into the cool depths. Laughter erupted behind her. Clothes came off fast; shorts tossed, shirts peeled back, sundresses discarded. You stripped to your bikini, tossing your cover-up onto a low-hanging branch. It was too hot to care about modesty.

One by one, your little crew made it into the lake. Sunlight bounced off the surface, dappled over tanned shoulders and sunburnt cheeks. You shrieked as someone splashed you, dunked Beth under in revenge and even squealed when Donna tried to pull you down too. Your hair stuck to your back, heavy and wet. Your skin tingled from the beer, the sun, the heat. There was a giddiness in the air, something youthful and wild and reckless.

“Dare you to jump off the big rock!” Mary shouted.

“I dare you to skinny dip!” Donna fired back.

You all gasped, half-scandalised and half-excited.

“Bet you won’t!” Beth teased.

“Oh, she so will,” Mary grinned, already pulling at the string of her bathing top.

It didn’t take long.

Bathing clothes flew this time…tops, bottoms, even Beth’s whole suit. There was giggling, squealing, the hiss of another beer cracking open. The hot sun beat down on bare skin as the four of you became a tangle of limbs and laughter, shrieking as you raced to be first back in the water.

It felt like being seventeen again.

You dove in, completely naked, the cool water wrapping around you like silk. You surfaced to find the others bobbing in a loose circle, hair wet and eyes wide with amusement. Someone dared someone else to do a handstand underwater. Donna tried and ended up flashing everyone. Beth snorted so hard she choked on lake water. Mary suggested you all start a ‘skippy swimmer club.’ As if this should be a regular Wednesday meet up for you all.

“I feel like a nymph,” you laughed, dragging your fingers through the water. “Like Mrs Harrsion talked about at school..during was it art of history?”

Mary smirked. “You look like trouble.”

“I am,” you said, flicking water at her. “Always have been.”

Somewhere in the distance, a car rumbled over the gravel road, but none of you noticed. You were too busy shrieking, daring and floating under the open sky. Your laughter echoed off the trees.

It wasn’t just the sun making you feel warm. No the beer had definitely done it’s share of the lifting.

The sound of tires on gravel cracked through the afternoon like a whip, sharp and sudden. It slicing through the haze of heat and laughter far away thunger…At first, it was distant, nearly drowned beneath the rhythmic slap of water and the shrill giggles bouncing across the lake. But as the rumble grew closer, even the cicadas seemed to falter, their constant droning quieting just enough to be noticeable.

You were treading water in the deeper section, skin tingling from the sun and the two beers warming your stomach, when Mary shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted toward the distant trees. “Uh… is that a car?”

Beth surfaced beside her with a wet gasp, flipping her hair back. "Can’t be. Didn’t think anyone even came out this far during the week."

Donna, floating lazily nearby, pushed herself upright with a frown. “We’ve been screaming like banshees. Someone probably heard all our hollering and decided to check it out.”

You drifted closer to the others,  a knot of curiosity and anxiety forming in your gut as the low growl of the approaching vehicle grew clearer..

The cruiser broke through the shade with a low, deliberate growl; dust curling behind it in lazy clouds as it rolled to a stop just off the dry bank. Sunlight glared off the windshield, hiding the driver for a moment. But you knew that silhouette. You knew that car.

Lee. Your Lee

You froze mid-paddle. Every hair on your body stood up as you saw the door swing open and a booted foot hit the ground.

“Shit,” you muttered, throat suddenly dry, dropping down lower in the water.

“Isn’t that-?” Mary started, but didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to.

Lee stepped out, all khaki uniform and scowl, sunglasses low on his nose as he took in the scene; abandoned clothing scattered along the log, half-drunk beers baking in the sun, four grown women laughing like drunk sirens in the water.

“What the hell is going on out here?” His voice cracked like thunder, sending birds from the trees. “You kids lost your damn minds?!”

You winced. He hadn’t seen you yet. Nor had he recognized the truck parked up near the trees.

Mary elbowed you. “Oh, girl. You’re in trouble.”

Lee’s gaze swept over the lake again, this time sharper, more scrutinising. “You kids can’t be out here causin’ a damn ruckus!” he called out, voice booming across the water. “This ain’t the city pool!”

He took another step forward, clearly ready to start marching people out by their ears. But then his voice faltered. His brow furrowed as he took in the scene properly, clocking the clothing styles, the familiarity of the truck, the unmistakable laughter he’d heard more then once.

He looked back to the water. Really looked. And that’s when his eyes landed on you.

You were shoulder-deep in the lake, hair slicked back, a lazy smile on your lips as if you hadn’t a care in the world. Slowly, you raised yourself up just enough for the water to lap beneath your breasts, exposing yourself deliberately as you lifted an arm in greeting.

"Hi sweetheart."

Lee froze like a man struck by lightning. His jaw slackened just a fraction, sunglasses tipping lower as he blinked once, twice.

“You-” he said, voice strangled. “Are you naked, woman?”

You gave a sheepish smile. “It’s hot.” Letting your arm fall back down with a small splash.

“Get in the damn car! Are you insane!?”

Your friends erupted into laughter, the absurdity of it all breaking like a wave.

“But it’s hot,” you whined, shrugging with mock innocence.

Mary, ever the instigator, called out, “There’s room in the water, Deputy! Join us!”

“DON’T START, MARY!” he barked, pointing a finger her way jabbing at the air.  “I swear to God, I will call your husband and tell him where his car is right now.”

Mary rolled her eyes, muttering something about ‘killjoys in uniform,’ while Donna snorted into her palm.

“Come on, Lee, it’s just a bit of fun…” you tried, wading closer to shore. “No harm done.”

He planted his hands on his hips. “GET. IN. THE CAR. WOMAN.”

The siren-like giggling only grew louder as you emerged from the lake, water dripping from every inch of your bare skin. You didn’t rush. You walked with slow, deliberate steps, the sun heating your shoulders as you grabbed your dress and towel from the log. You didn’t cover up, either, just walked over to the log to collect your belongings, grabbing the towel and wrapping it casually around your hips. After all, the only people around were your friends and your husband. You had nothing to feel shame over.

Lee looked like he was going to combust.

His eyes flicked up and down…trying not to look, failing miserably. His jaw tightened so hard you thought his teeth might crack. He turned abruptly, stomping toward the cruiser without another word.

You waved playfully at your friends. “Tell your husbands I say hi!”

They hooted and hollered after you as you climbed into the passenger seat.

Lee yanked the door shut with a growl. “Goddamn woman…”

The engine roared back to life, and he peeled out with enough force to send the back tires fishtailing in the dirt. Your laughter bubbled up again, wild and sweet as the dust rose behind you.

“When I get you home-”

“Oh don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetie,” you said, hand already sliding across the bench seat toward his thigh. “Don’t pout, Lee. You’ll get wrinkles.”

He shot you a look that could’ve burned through the windshield, but it didn’t stop your smile. Not one bit. Tongue pressed into the inside of your teeth.

The cruiser bumped along the dusty backroad, cicadas back to screaming outside and the hot afternoon sun slanting through the windows. The heat still clung to the inside of the car like sweat on skin. You sat in the passenger seat, legs crossed at the knee, towel now properly wrapped around you to keep the sticky vinyl of the seat from burning your bare back. Your hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends where it clung to your shoulders.

Lee had one hand gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. His jaw was clenched so tight, you could see the muscle twitch in his cheek. The other hand rested stiffly on the gear stick, knuckles white. He hadn’t said a word since you’d gotten in, unless you counted the furious muttering under his breath.

You turned slightly in your seat, elbow up on the window ledge, chin resting in your palm. "You’re awful quiet, sweetheart. Cat got your tongue?"

Lee didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the road, face stern, his brows drawn together like storm clouds.

You sighed dramatically. “You’re not still mad, are you? We were just having some fun. No one got hurt.”

"You were naked," he snapped, finally breaking. "In the middle of the damn woods with a cooler full of beer and no supervision. You’re supposed to be the adult."

You smiled sweetly. "I’m supervised now, aren’t I?" Not wanting to point out that as an adult you didn't require supervision. 

Lee groaned, head tipping back for a second before he slammed it forward again in frustration. "Jesus Christ."

You scooted a little closer on the bench seat, the towel slipping slightly as you leaned in. “You know, that voice you use when you’re real mad? Does things to me.”

He turned his head just enough to glare. “Stop it.”

You bit your lip, eyes wide and innocent. Your fingers trailed across his thigh, slow and teasing going for a better tactic to help him through the moment. “I just missed you today. Been so hot and lonely, thought a little mischief might cool me off.”

“Woman,” he warned, but there was less fire in his voice now, more strain. You saw the way his jaw flexed, how his fingers twitched on the wheel.

You leaned in even further, lips brushing his ear. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the view. I saw you looking.”

“I was not-”

“You were,” you interrupted, voice low and warm. “That stern thing you do? Where your voice drops and you call me ‘woman’? Mmm, that one’s my favourite.”

Lee slammed a hand down on the dash. “You keep this up, I swear to God-”

You giggled, sliding your fingers up to tug lightly on the knot of his tie. “You swear to God what handsome?”

The cruiser swerved slightly as he growled low in his throat, steadying the wheel with one hand. You were close now, your thigh pressed to his, your bare shoulder brushing the khaki of his sleeve.

“Stop finding this funny,” he said tightly. “You know better.”

“Maybe,” you said, your fingers trailing down the front of his shirt, brushing against the heat of his chest beneath the fabric. “But maybe I like getting in trouble with you.”

His eyes cut to you, dark and dangerous. “You are playing with fire.”

“And you love the burn,” you whispered, smirking.

He exhaled hard, one hand leaving the wheel to grip your wrist. “You wait until I get you home.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetie,” you murmured, settling back into your seat with a wicked smile. “Oh, there you go again,” you added, voice playful, teasing, “you must have all sorts of wonderful ideas in that head of yours, Sheriff. Like you can’t wait to get me home and show me.”

The cruiser bumped down the road, tension thick and crackling like the air before a summer storm.

The moment the cruiser turned into the driveway, you felt the shift in Lee. His hands gripped the wheel like he needed something to ground him, like if he didn’t hold tight he might say something he couldn’t walk back. His jaw clenched again as the gravel crunched beneath the tires.

He didn’t speak until the engine cut out.

“Inside,” he said simply, his voice low, not angry, but firm. Measured. Like he’d been thinking about what he needed to say since the minute he saw you floating naked in that lake.

You stepped out, the air thicker here, heavier with summer heat and the weight of what was coming. Your towel slipped a little lower around you chest as you climbed the steps to the porch. Lee was right behind you, boots loud on the wood.

Inside, the door had barely clicked shut before his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“You wanna act like a wild little thing,” he murmured, pulling you gently toward the kitchen, “then I guess we better have ourselves a talk about what it means to be the sheriff’s wife.”

Your heart kicked up at that. Something in his tone struck you in the chest, taking the fun out of whatever game you’d been playing.

“I wasn’t-” He spun you as soon as you got to look at him.

“You weren’t thinkin’, no,” he cut in, but his voice was calm, not cruel. His other hand brushed damp hair from your face as he stepped into your space. “You’re my girl. You hear me? You don’t go getting naked out in public like you ain’t got someone who worships the ground you walk on.”

“I wasn’t trying to upset you,” you whispered, this seemed a lot more serious then you’d thought it had been.

“I know,” he said. “But you gotta understand… I ain’t just your husband. I’m gonna be Sheriff. That means somethin’. Means people watch. People judge. And when they see you, they see me.”

His hand slid down your side, fingers tightening over the towel at your waist.

“You think I don’t love how wild you are?” he asked. “You make me burn, sweetheart. But you can’t set me on fire in front of everyone and expect me not to burn the whole world down to put it out.”

You stared up at him, throat dry.

“I need you,” he said, quieter now. “Not just today. Always. I need you to work with me. I can’t do this without you.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I know you are,” he said. “But you’re still gonna learn.”

His mouth was on yours then, not rough but needy. Desperate, like the words had broken something in him. His kiss stole the breath from your lungs, grounding you even as your head spun.

The towel slipped to the floor. You let it.

Lee’s hands found your hips, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around him, dragging him closer as his hips slotted to yours. The faint sound of his belt unbuckling echoed between you, metal clinking, leather sliding free. His forehead dropped to yours, eyes locked with yours as he rolled against you, the promise of what was coming pulsing thick in the air around you.

“You’re my whole damn world,” he murmured against your lips. “And I’m gonna make sure you know that.”

“I know,” you breathed.

He kissed you again, slower now. No punishment in it. Just want. Just love.

His voice was gravel when he said, “You gonna be a good girl for me?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“You gonna think like a sheriff’s wife?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said, pressing himself into you just enough to feel the heat and promise of what was coming. “Because I plan on keepin’ you for a very long time.”

You felt the thick press of him against your soaked folds first, the heavy heat of him dragging through the slickness he’d coaxed from you, rubbing himself through the mess he'd made until you whimpered. And then..slow, deliberate, he pushed in, your head tipped back at the stretch.

It wasn’t fury, it was a lesson written in every tender roll of his hips, every whispered praise against your throat, every time he murmured mine. Not because you misbehaved.

But because you were his.

Lee growled, grabbing the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his.

"No hiding today, baby. Want to see you feel me."

He moved inside you with deep, steady thrusts that lit your nerves like fireflies in the dark. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you to the counter, every stroke making you feel like the only woman in the world. Like he was writing his name inside you.

Lee's shirt stuck to his broad chest, the fabric damp where your fingers had clutched it earlier, and now, as he sank deeper into your pussy with that first deliberate push, the counter's cool edge bit into your ass, a sharp contrast to the scorching slide of his thick cock filling you up.

You gasped, the stretch burning sweet at this angle, your legs hooked tight around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to pull him closer. He groaned low in his throat, the sound rumbling through his chest, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. The sticky warmth of sweat beaded between you, mixing with the remnants of lake water and your own arousal, making every movement glide with a wet, obscene friction as your body opened for him.

"Lee," you moaned, your voice breaking on his name as he pulled back slow, then thrust in again, deeper this time, the head of his cock dragging along that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your hands fisted in his shirt, yanking at the buttons, desperate to feel the heat of his skin under your palms. He panted against your mouth, hot breaths mingling with yours, his hips snapping forward in a rhythm that was steady but building, each plunge sending jolts of pleasure radiating from your core. "That's it, darlin'," he rasped, his voice gravelly with need, forehead slick against yours. Sweat trickled down his temple, you licked it away on impulse, tasting the salt of him.

He rewarded you with a harder thrust, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you full. "Tell me you'll be good for me. Say it-need to hear my girl promise it."

You whimpered, the words tumbling out amid your pants, your body trembling under the onslaught.

"I'll be good, Lee. So good for you, I swear." Your voice was breathy, laced with the whine of pleasure as he drove in again, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the cabinets.

His mouth crashed down on yours then, hot and needy, tongue plunging past your lips in a kiss that devoured teeth nipping your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing with a wet pop. He groaned into the kiss, the sound muffled as his hips stuttered for a beat, pleasure coiling tight in him too.

"Fuck, yes," he murmured against your lips, rewarding your words with a roll of his hips that ground his pelvis against your clit, sparks flying up your spine. "My good girl. Always know how to make your man happy."

The heat wrapped around you both like a blanket, sticky and unrelenting, your skin sliding together with every thrust. You moaned his name louder now

"Lee, oh God, Lee"  he fucked you with purpose, each stroke claiming, the thick drag of his cock pulling whimpers from your throat. It was him pouring all that love back into you, dominant and tender, making you feel cherished in the rawest way.

He broke the kiss to pant against your neck, lips pressing into skin, possessive but soft. "You're mine," he growled, thrusting deeper, the angle letting him bottom out with a grind that had you seeing white and colour at once. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your collarbone, and you clung tighter, legs squeezing his hips, lost in the building ache. His praises came between groans "Christ you feel perfect." 

The tension coiled tighter in your core, every thrust of Lee's cock pushing you closer to the edge. 

You were chasing it...that friction, that deep grind that had your pussy fluttering around his thick length. Lee panted heavily against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, groans spilling from his lips with each plunge, the summer humidity rhythm faltering in urgency. 

"Lee-fuck, I'm-" Your words broke off into a harsh, guttural cry as he angled his hips just right, slamming into that sweet spot inside you with a force that shattered everything. Your body seized, walls clamping down hard on his cock as the orgasm pulled you under in waves of pleasure,  crashing over you. You grabbed at him fiercely, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, yanking him closer as your legs locked around his waist, heels pressing into his ass to hold him deep.

"That's it, baby-Christ" he rasped, thrusting erratically now, burying himself to the root as his cock pulsed, hot spurts of cum flooding you, filling you up with warmth that mingled with your own slickness. His body shuddered against yours, groans turning to deep, satisfied grunts as he rode out the high, hips jerking in short, sharp bucks that prolonged the bliss for both of you.

The kitchen spun in a haze of heat and aftershocks, your harsh noise echoing off the walls, a raw, broken sound that matched the way he'd made you shatter. He didn't pull out, staying seated inside you, his forehead pressed to yours as breaths slowed from pants to heavy sighs.

One hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek, while the other held your hip steady, grounding you both in the sticky aftermath. "My girl," he murmured, voice rough with spent passion.

You curled into his chest even in the heat.

Your fingers traced the line of his forearm down to your hip. The kitchen smelled like summer skin and sex.

"Sorry I was a brat," you mumbled after a long silence.

Lee huffed a low laugh into your hair. "You weren’t a brat. You were just... stirrin' the pot. Like always."

You lifted your face toward him. "That a compliment?"

"‘Course it is," he said, tightening his grip around you. "Wouldn’t want a quiet girl. Wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with her."

You laughed, but it made you clamp down on where he was still in you, both of you tensing for the moment..

"Didn’t mean to make you worry."

Lee was quiet for a moment.

"I know. But you gotta understand, when I saw you out there... I saw everything. Everyone. And I just kept thinkin’- ‘what if someone didn’t see the line? What if someone thought you were up for grabs?’"

You swallowed hard. "I didn’t think about that. I should’ve."

He shook his head against your back. "No, baby. That’s my job. That’s what I’m here for. To think about that kind of shit so you don’t have to. You just gotta remember- what we do, what you do, it echoes. People watch you. They’ll keep watchin’ when I get that badge."

You ran your thumb over the crease between his brows.

"I want you to have it. The badge. The whole damn office. You were born to be sheriff, Lee. You care more than any of them."

His eyes softened. "I just care about keepin' what’s mine safe."

"I know."

He cupped your face again, brushed his thumb over your lip. "And you’re mine. Right?"

You nodded, heart full to bursting. "Yeah. I’m yours."

He kissed you then, not with hunger, but in that same way he had when he was sealing your vow.