Watsup’

He rolls his eyes and against his better judgment, tucks you in. He tells himself he’s taking pity on your battered body. He gives you one last look and drops his head back to his pillow.

He isn’t quite sure how long he lays here, staring mindlessly up at the ceiling, hearing the soft floof of the snow hitting the roof. The sun is still hidden by the clouds, not quite blinding anyone who’d look up at it. You wiggle against him and he almost has half the mind to shush you, pet your hair and tuck you into his chest. He just rolls his eyes and tucks you into his side.

Not once in the 8 years he’s been bedding easy girls has he ever brought one home, let alone tucked one in. He blames it on your naïveté, how easy you were—are. He blames it on how you keep to yourself, studying for hours on end at the campus cafe, tucked into the back corner, as blue ink smeared on the edge of your palm from your writing. The little things.

He gives you one last glance before forcing himself to steal another hour or two from the day.

A draft of cold air wakes him up again and he cracks an eye open to look down at you. You’re standing at the foot of the bed, perched on a leg, panties halfway up your thighs. You stare back at him wide-eyed and he groans.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You meant to walk out?” He yawns and rubs his eyes, clicking his tongue, “And with my sweater too.”

You look down at yourself and turn your back to him, pulling it off and slipping your dress on. You turn back to hand it to him as he slides on a pair of slacks, fixing his belt. He looks at you and eyes your cheek, his fingers still showing, rising above the rest of your skin.

He sighs and grabs the sweater, popping your head through it before fixing the sleeves over your arms. He turns to his ensuite and grabs a button down polo. He reaches for his keys and phone and starts walking out of the room. He stops at the doorway and looks at you.

“Well, let’s go.”

You hurry on after him, grabbing your keys and clutch, following him into his car. He starts up the Audi and turns on the heater, you slide into the passenger seat of the car.

“Where’s your apartment?”

“I live at the, um, dorms. Y’know by the university…” You trail off, wishing you could bite off your tongue. He glares at you and sighs.

The drive to the campus is silent, almost deathly. You stare out the window, watching the glass collect unlucky snowflakes as he stares straight ahead to the street. The only sound is the occasional krrr of the windshield wipers.

He catches you squirming in your seat and turns to you. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” You squeak, looking vaguely scandalized.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you squirm around a little more, face uncomfortable. You move your hands under your thighs and grimace slightly.

“Ok, seriously, what is it? Do you need to piss?”

“No! No, it just, um,” You go radio silent for a moment and whisper, “hurts.”

“Seriously? What have you never fingered yourself or something?”

Your silence tells him all he needs to know. He groans, rolling his eyes.

“Are you kidding?” He turns to you at a red light, your eyes are intently staring at your heels.

He turns back to the road and you gnaw at your bottom lip, whimpering whenever he hits a speed bump or dip. He brushes a hand through his hair and speeds into the parking lot of a coffee shop.

“Oh, I know this place! I get a mocha frappuccino every time I’m here.” You smile, tilting your head to look up at the building.

Something in his chest clenches, and a heavy weight settles between his lungs. He eyes you and you turn to him, smile dropping as your eyes go back to your heels. He parks the car and steps out. You step out, wincing and clear your throat. He watches you from his spot beside the car and waits for you.

You come around to him and he raises a brow. You turn to the student living building and point, “This is it, um.”

He nods and extends a hand out, “lead the way.”

You nod and take a wobbly step, almost slipping if it weren’t for Ransom’s arm wrapping around your waist, hauling you up. He wraps your hand around his forearm for support and sighs.

You take shaky steps to the dorm entrance, walking to the lift doors. You two step into a lift and you press the glowing 5 button. You carefully wrap yourself around him and he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop you.

He walks step-in-step with you to your door. You unlock it and scoot aside. He looks down both ways of the hall before stepping inside. It’s a small living space.

He looks around, finding a small kitchenette, with a pot on a plug-in, portable, stove - a minifridge under it. He spots a small foldable table and walks over, peering down at your writing chem notes written in blue at the top of the paper.

He walks down a small corridor, making a left, into a makeshift bedroom, a clothing rack in the corner with a mirror. A twin bed pushed up against the other wall, more papers scattered over it, a flatscreen hangs on the wall, an episode of Blue’s Clues paused. You rush over and fumble at the remote, turning the screen off.

He turns to you with a smirk and you blush, hands at your stomach, “The - the campus doesn’t give the best channel options.” He quirks a brow and you stammer, “I like blue noise.”

He gives a soft huff, resembling a laugh and walks to your door, pointing at the sweater you wear. You give a soft “oh,” and pull it off, folding it neatly before you hand it to him. He takes it and looks at you once more, before walking out the door.

You trail to the hallway, watching as Ransom walks away without as much as glance back towards you. Your heart thuds in your chest as you go back to your room, closing your door behind you.

—

Two weeks later, you’re in the cafe, sitting in your usual corner, steaming frappuccino beside you, earbuds into your MacBook, not quite paying attention to the pre-recorded video for your chemistry class.

You turn towards the window, watching as the pellets of water race down the glass. You mentally berate yourself for not bringing your worn-down coat. You sigh, going back to your notes, scribbling on your paper, blue ink inevitably getting all over the side of your palm.

The cafe’s bell rings and you pop your head up, catching him stumbling in, carding a hand through his hair. He shakes off the rest of the water on his coat and sigh, turning to you.

You hold his gaze for a minute, face slowly heating up. He goes to the line and orders a macchiato. He turns to you as you hastily look back down at your notes. You try to pay attention to lecture before you and manage to write some notes down.

You see him stalking towards you, standing beside your table. You slowly tip your head up and he raises a brow.

“Hi.” You let out, meekly.

“Hi.”

You turn back down to your notes as his hand comes up under your chin. He tilts his head to the side, studying you and you whimper.

“You don’t have a coat.”

You sigh and pull your head from his hand.

“We’re not all born under trust-funds that can afford us cashmere coats, Ransom.” You whisper under your breath.

He puts a hand on your table and you need to scramble for your drink so it doesn’t tip over on your MacBook.

“Careful, please.”

He turns to the laptop.

“Bookworm.”

You purse your lips, turning your head to him. He looks down at your MacBook, moving you aside to test it out.

“How the fuck does this thing even work? I mean, god.”

“Again, I don’t have a trust-fund.” You roll your eyes.

He sighs and straightens up, closing your laptop.

“Hey, I was working—”

“Pack your things.”

You dumbly stare at him and he snaps his fingers, wrist going in a circular motion. “Today, please.”

He walks to the cafe’s door and waits.

You shove your things into your bag, ultimately oddly bending a few papers and rush up beside him. He sighs and shucks off his coat, wrapping it around you.

“Can’t have you dying on me.”

You look down at the coat and pinch it at your throat, like a cape. He sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. He walks to his car and gets in. You watch from the cafe’s entrance as he pulls the car around.

He waits before beeping. “Get in!”

You scramble to get in, closing the door and flicking your gaze to him. He sighs and pulls the car out to the street. You fiddle with your thumbs and look out the window.

He keeps driving, looking down at his phone as he weaves through traffic. You grip the overhead handle as he passes 2 continuous red lights.

“R-Ransom, you should focus on—”

“Shut up.” He says, scrolling through pictures of women on his Instagram.

You frown softly, eyes downcast. You take in a breath as he makes a sharp turn and exhale once the car balances again.

“Where are we going?”

“Boulevard Mall.” He says, finally locking his phone, sliding it under his thigh.

“I can’t afford anything there.” You say softly, eyes downcast.

“How about we put that ‘trust-fund’ to use.”

You turn to him, rather surprised and he gives you a quirk of his lips. You snuggle into his coat and slouch into the heated, leather chair.

You watch out the window at the now tiny flurries and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He finishes the rest of the drive and you look up at the mall.

He parks the car and gets out. He waits for you and you slowly make your way out of the car, your bag in hand. He tsks and takes it before dropping back in your seat.

You watch and turn back to the mall, Ransom walks to you and holds a hand out for you. You flinch and he swallows thickly, you take his hand and wrap your fingers over his palm. He clears his throat and walks with you, hand-in-hand, to the mall’s doors.

You look up towards the ceiling, finding a chandelier and stop, simply staring in awe. That peculiar, heavy weight shifts itself back into Ransom’s chest and he frowns at nothing in particular. He watches as your eyes reflect the chandelier’s shine, some part, deep down, tells himself he’s never seen a more beautiful sight and he shakes it off.

“So, where are we going?” He asks, hands at his hips.

You look at him, awestruck.

“You tell me, I’ve never been to this mall, let alone even heard of half of these stores.”

He takes your hand, walking you through the first floor until you stop, spotting a coat in Louis Vuitton you like and you slowly walk into the store, careful not to knock anything over. You eye the coat and pick up the sleeve, reading the price tag. You drop it, like you’ve just been burned. You turn to walk out as Ransom walks in.

“You like this one?”

“No. No, it’s not—I hate it, really.”

He squints at you and looks down at the price tag, rolls his eyes with a chuckle, taking it off the rack and you rush up, pulling at his forearm.

“No, Ransom, really, it’s too much, really! We can go to, um, Burlington! Or a Ross! They have coats, I’ll be fine with one of those. Please!”

He pulls his arm back and you flinch, eyes going a little wide, he sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re getting this one.”

“I won’t take it.”

He steps closer to you, chest to chest and you flick your eyes between both of his, trying not to crumble under his hard gaze. You shake your head and he shoves you back a bit, turning around to walk to the front counter.

You run up, grabbing his arm and tugging him back, shaking your head, he clenches his jaw and you shake your head. He takes a step closer, and your eyes fill with premature tears.

“Please, I won’t be able to pay you back. We can go to Burlington a-and I can find one, one that I can pay back soon.” Your voice waivers, soft as you look up at him.

He looks at you, your tears slowly overflowing your lower waterline, streaming down your face. He goes to wipe one away and you flinch, turning away. The weight in his chest hardens, solidifying around his ribs and he groans.

“Stop crying. Jesus, you’re making a scene. You’re getting this one and that’s final.”

“But I can’t—”

“I never said anything about paying me back.”

That gets your head tipping up to him, jaw a little slack. A man watches over your shoulder at the unfolding scene and Ransom hastily wipes your tears away, bringing you up into a kiss—you whimper into it as he crushes you to his chest. When he pulls back, you’re panting and the man is gone.

“Someone was watching.” He shrugs, turning to walk to the cashier.

“Ransom,” Your voice is soft and he turns back to you, you grab the coat from his hands and he clenches his jaw, taking a step to you, berate on his tongue. You turn and hang the coat, grabbing another one, handing it to him.

“At least get it in my size.”

He smiles as he’s won the argument and you huff, jutting out a hip. He takes the coat and walks to the cashier, handing over the coat to the bubbly blonde across from him, twirling her hair around a finger and eyeing him up and down, leaning over a little, letting him peek at her chest.

He feels disgust bubble up in his lower stomach and looks around, spotting you at the bags, hands clasped behind your back, looking at the design choices. He finds himself smiling at the sight of you, wonderstruck and the cashier calls him. He nods and taps his card, calling you over.

You turn to him, nervous and step around the store to him, he nods to the bag and you take it from the counter, the cashier rolling her eyes practically throwing the receipt at you. You pick it up off the counter and read the price.

“6000?! It’s already $5000 on the tag.” You swallow, eyes wide.

“Is there a problem?” The cashier chimes in, eyeing you up and down with jealousy burning in her eyes.

“No, problem.” Ransom lets out, nodding, turning to you, “Taxes, princess.”

Ransom walks you out of the store as you gnaw at your bottom lip; a train of thought cut short as your phone buzzes in your pocket, your next class’ alarm. You’re too far from the campus to make it in time and you decide to cut your losses.

Ransom blinks at you like you’ve got three heads, when you look up at him.

“What?” You mutter, looking down to check yourself.

“What do you mean ‘what’? You do see the literal brick in your hand, right?”

You flip your phone over in your palm and look at him, eyebrows knitted together. He grabs the phone and takes the escalators up to the second floor. You follow behind him, trying to nab your phone back.

“Ransom, what are you doing? Ransom.”

“Shh.” He groans, walking to the Apple store. You slowly walk in behind him, trying to pull him out. He turns around and glares at you, you shiver and back away a little. Ransom calls over an attendant, whispering about your ‘situation’ and the attendant nods, pulling up an iPad, muttering about the newest models.

You spot the MacBooks and walk over, running your fingers over the slick, metallic design. Ransom comes up, standing behind you, his warmth almost comforting and your eyes go a little lidded.

“Which color do you like?”

His voice is muddled in the back of your brain and you shake your head, looking up at him, as he now stands at your side.

“Which color?”

“I can’t accept it. I—”

“You don’t have to pay me back, god, I thought we established that. Consider it—charity.”

You turn to him, brows furrowed, eyes a little hurt, chest heavy. He raises a brow, tilts his head.

“Charity?”

“Yeah, charity.” He scoffs.

You take a step back and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Don’t,” He cuts himself short with a laugh.

“Don’t tell me you thought this was me, like, caring for you.”

You feel tears well in your eyes and he huffs.

“Oh, come on, it’s practically murder I leave you in this weather without a coat, as for that brick you’re just begging it to blow up on you. I mean, get serious, how would anyone actually care about you, I mean, you’re…you, and there are plenty of women in this city who know how to please a man—please themselves.”

The second the words roll off his tongue he regrets them, your eyes shine, this time with tears as you fail to hide a whimper. You throw the bag at his feet and he reaches an arm out, trying to stop you. You push him aside, going two steps at a time down the stairs walking out to the pouring rain, Ransom’s steps echoing behind yours.

He calls out to you, as you keep walking to his car. He yells out your name and runs up to you, grabbing your arm and spinning you to face him.

“I was calling you!”

You just sniffle, pushing at his chest as he comes to stand in front of you. He stumbles back and catches your wrist, pulling you to him.

“You wanna know something—”

“What? That I’m your little charity project? Saw me at one of the games, o-or at the shop and pitied me; that took me home and raped me? Fucking me like one of your on scheduel whores, and felt bad? Is that it, playboy, cause trust me, it’s clear!”

He opens his mouth again to speak and you cut him off.

“And you want to know something else? Maybe I don’t have much, granted, but at least I have a heart! At least I know what it’s like to actually have people care about me. At least I know what it’s like to love someone. You fucking asshole, and you know what? I really don’t care if I freeze to death, it’d be better to die than have to live and breathe the same air as you every day!”

His eyes widen at your words, chest heaving. He drops your wrist and brings a hand against your cheek, with enough to rock you slightly, head turning sideways. He huffs and looks down at where his palm stings, slowly coming to terms with what he’d done.

He straightens up a little, and you take a wobbly step back. He takes a shaky breath and feels that same, damned, heavy weight completely take over his body. He goes to the passenger door and opens it, waiting beside it.

You grab your bag and take a step back, he scoffs and slams it shut.

“Fine, then. Walk.” He crosses his arms over his chest, you sniffle, wiping your cheek and cross over the lip of the road to the sidewalk. You walk on for about 200 feet before Ransom takes a few steps closer to you.

“It’s a 10 mile walk!”

You keep walking.

“You’ll freeze to death before you even get to the corner!”

Nothing.

He scrubs a hand down his face and brushes his hair back. He groans and is about to walk back to his car when he spots where you've stopped, now about 600 feet from him.

He crosses over to the sidewalk and sighs. You’re straight faced, a hiccuping breath coming through the wind to him every so often.

“I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry I hit you—can you just, just get in the car?”

You stare at him, still hiccuping.

“Please?”

You turn around, walking back in the other direction and he runs behind you, throwing you over his shoulder and you flail and kick at him, pounding your fists into his back. 

“Ransom, put me down! Ransom!”

He fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door, throwing you into the passenger’s seat.

You go to stand and he pushes a hand at your chest.

“Stay!”

He shuts the door and locks the car, running back to the mall. You huff and groan, rolling your eyes as you slouch into the seat. You count the cars that pass by, getting to 38 before Ransom comes back.

He unlocks his door, and shoves two bags into the back. He slides in and you meet his eyes for a moment before turning away. He doesn’t say anything, just starts the car and the drive back to the campus.

When he pulls up to the cafe’s parking lot, he turns to you. You keep your eyes down at your shoes, a pair of worn out, black converse. He steps out and goes to your side. He opens your door and you turn away and look at the building.=

“I can go from here.” You mutter, taking off his coat. Ransom shakes his head and grabs the bags from the passenger’s door. You sigh and stare at them.

“I don’t want them.”

“You’re taking them.”

You shake your head and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“I’m walking you to your dorm and you’re taking them, and that’s final.”

You huff and walk before him, running to the other side of the road to get away from the beginning pellets of rain. He comes up beside you and opens the door for you, you push past him and walk into the lift, going up to the fifth floor.

He trails behind you as you open your door, turning back to him. He stops at your door and hands over the bags. You watch skeptically and gnaw your bottom lip.

“What is it now?”

“T-Thank you.”

He rolls his eyes and you duck your head, feeling your cheeks heat up.

You go to close the door and his palm slams against it, making you jump back a bit. He licks his lips and looks at you before asking, “Do you…think I could stay till the storm passes?”

You look up at him, blinking a few times before nodding and moving aside. He comes in and shakes the water off his sweater. You gently leave the bags on your makeshift table.

You look around the room and quickly scramble to tidy up your loose notes. He walks around the room and wipes some dust off a shelf.

You feel embarrassment take over your body and shuffle your papers into a folder. You fix your bed’s comforter and gesture to it. Ransom takes a seat and looks at the bags.

“Don’t you want to see what I got you?” He asks.

You look at him and turn to the bags. You blink and look back at him.

“Bring them here.” He pats the bed.

You stare at his hand and shift from foot to foot before fetching the bags and bringing them over to him. You look up at him and he raises a brow.

“Well, open them.”

You hesitant before reaching for the Apple bag, pulling out an iPhone box and MacBook box. Your eyes widen and you look at both boxes, taking the iPhone and looking it over.

Keys jingle and echo in your room before they’re in front of your face. Ransom’s keys wait for you to hold them. You slit open the box and pop the top off, taking the phone out.

“They didn’t have much selection up front, but I bribed for a pink.”

You flip the phone over in your hands and swallow, running your fingers along its frame, feeling the box-like, slick structure. You open your mouth and close it, words flown out the window.

Ransom sighs and digs through the Apple bag for a clear case. He hands it over. You slip it onto the phone and look up at him.

“That better?”

You nod and try to bite back a smile. He gives a soft huff and turns to the MacBook’s box, nudging it towards you.

“Open it.”

You walk over to your table and carefully set them down, taking a seat. You take his keys and slit them against the boxes sides, setting them down on the table and pulling the plastic off.

Ransom comes to stand beside you and just watches, turning to you, gauging your reaction. You pop the lid off and take a breath before you lift it out of the box. You set it on the table, undoing its styrofoam wrapping. You trail your fingers over its gold framing and open it up; looking at your reflection on the screen, Ransom stands, bent over, beside you.

He whispers softly, “Do you like it?”

“Oh I love it! Thank you! Thank you!” You squeal, hopping off the chair into Ransom, inevitably taking him down to the ground. You giggle, pushing your hair back, finding yourself perched on his lap, hand on his chest; his hands on your hips. You look down at him, his nose and cheeks flushed. You go to move off and his grip tightens, sliding you further down on his lap.

Your eyes widen and you squeak. He sits up, bringing you with him and you blush at the way he stares at you. He grabs your chin, when you turn away, making you look at him. You whimper and he licks his lips.

“Can I,” He pauses, looking up at you, “Can I kiss you?”

You swallow and look in his eyes. They drown you and you dumbly nod, jaw going a little slack. He leans up, stealing a kiss from your lips. He groans against your lips, hands going under your sweater, feeling along your back.

You whimper, arching into his chest and he smiles against your lips. You hesitantly bring your hands to his neck. He moves his head down, kissing along your neck. Your fingers claw at his shoulders and you pant into the warm air of your dorm.

He drags his teeth along your neck and your hands go to his hair, tugging it. He groans against your neck and bites down on your pulse point, sucking at the bruise. You shake in his arms and he pulls back, looking up at you.

“You ok?”

You nod and he sighs, taking his hands out of your sweater, brushing them over your back. He smacks his lips and gently nudges you back. You move off his lap and he stands, grunting softly.

He turns to you, holding his hands out to you, you take them and he stands you up. He brushes a hand through his hair and lets out a breath.

He wipes his lips and looks out your window, “The storm’s gone. I should go.”

You furrow your brow and take a step forward, putting a hand over his forearm. “Do you have to?”

He looks at you and sighs, nodding. You nod along and turn away. He clears his throat and fixes his coat, grabbing his keys from the table and you walk to the door. Unlocking it, you hold it open for him, he walks out and turns back to you.

"If you ever need anything, my number's programmed into your iCloud. Just give me a call." He whispers.

"Okay." You nibble your bottom lip, peering up at him.

He looks at you, eyes looking deeply into your own and he groans, leaning forward, stealing a kiss from you; bending you back a bit, hands holding you against his chest as he kisses you deeply. Your hands go into his hair and he groans. He goes to walk you back inside, when a door closes down the hall, making him jump from you; wiping his lips.

He pants, fixing his hair and sighs. He turns around walking without a glance back towards you for the second time in your life. You feel a weight shove itself into your throat and you whimper into the hall as you just stand there. Naively hoping he’d come back.

You close the door and slide down to the floor against it, head in your hands, knees drawn up to your chest. You sob into your palms and curl further in on yourself.

Ransom rushes through your building’s door, pushing past a group of scrambling people, trying to find shelter from the pouring rain. He swallows, walking about 1000 ft to the cafe’s parking lot, digging into his pocket for his keys, and sliding inside his car.

He just sits there, as cars pass by, watching as the rain comes back, beating down against his windshield. He groans and drops his head back to the comforter. He slams his hand against his steering wheel and curses. He watches as the cafe’s lot empties out—the student rush flooded out.

He checks his phone, it's been 15 minutes since he sat in his car. He groans and rubs a hand against his face. His leg shakes nervously and he curses again, grabbing his phone and keys. Stepping out, running to your building’s dorm. Muttering to himself, rolling his eyes at nothing in particular, he somehow makes it to your room.

He stands at your door, and sighs, lifting a ball fist to knock, when the door opens. You open the door a little more, and he takes in the puffy rings that surround your eyes. He frowns softly and cups your cheek. You turn into his palm and wrap your hand around his forearm.

He walks you back into the door, kicking it closed with the back of his foot. He tilts your head, leans down and kisses you, licking into your mouth. You whimper, arching into him, he hoists your legs up around his waist and blindly walks around to your bed.

Your hands go into his hair and you press yourself closer to him, tightening your legs. He groans and drops you on your mattress, nudging you to its center and lays his weight on you. It’s comforting, his warmth, his presence. He moves his head, kissing your neck, and you turn your head, giving him better access.

Clawing at his soaked sweater, you arch against him, trying to strip it from him. He gets the memo, pushes himself up, kneeling up and pulls it off over his head. He drops it on the floor with a sloshy thud. You swallow in a breath and look up at him, eyes skimming his body. He smiles with a soft chuckle and cups your cheek.

You bring a hand up to his chest and lay your palm over his heart. His breathing picks up as that damn, heavy weight nudges itself between his lungs. You look up at him and he stares down at you. Your hand drifts down to his lower stomach and your eyes change intention. You blink up at him, doe-eyed and he nods. You bring your hands to his slacks, fumbling at his belt until it loosens and then tugging it from its loops. Your fingers shake the whole way through.

Arousal takes over Ransom’s brain as he watches you fumble with his pants. You pull his zipper down and tug at his slacks. He kicks them off, keeping his briefs on. You swallow, taking him in. A flush rises to your cheeks and you close your eyes, falling back on the bed, throwing an arm over your face. He tugs at the skirt you’re wearing and you let him pull it off.

He gently nudges your legs apart and you open them for him, with a soft whimper. He fits himself to you and brushes his hands along your sides, a few droplets of water falling from his hair. You giggle as they fall on your cheek. He smiles and you move your arm, surprised to see him leaning down a little.

“Hi.” You squeak.

“Hi.” He whispers.

His hands run up your sides, inevitably tickling you. You squirm against him, letting out a soft giggle as he scrunches his fingers along your sides. You whine, twisting away from him and he sighs, letting up on his assault. You turn back to him and lick your lips. He follows the movement with his eyes and groans softly.

You let out a soft giggle and wiggle against him, rocking against his hard cock. He groans and lets his eyes slip closed. You swallow your nerves and steal a peek between you two, spotting his cock straining against his briefs. You reach a hand out, grazing your palm against him. He groans, dropping his head to your shoulder.

You feel your palm against him and glide your fingers up to the tip. He swears out and looks down at your hand, and pulses into your palm. You let out a gasp and turn to him. He turns to you and leans down for a heated kiss. He wraps an arm around you, and rolls onto his back.

You scramble on his lap, face flushed and he grabs your hips; dropping you to his thighs. You feel him hard, warm, pulsing against you and your eyes widen. You eye him a little and test the waters, pushing down against him. He groans and you line yourself directly over him; cock slit against your cunt.

You rock back and moan, eyes closing. He cups your cheek and you tense, not quite flinching. He brings you down for a kiss and you whimper against his lips. He lays a hand along your back, reaching down to your ass, grabbing an ass cheek. You whine, squirming against him. He moves his head down to your neck, giving your ass a playful smack. You squeal against him, moving up a little.

He chuckles against your neck and bites down gently, sucking a bruise to your skin. You go rigid against him, as his teeth dig deeper into your throat. You whimper and he lets go, leaning back to look at his work. He brings his hand up to run it along the bite and smiles to himself. You whine and turn away, blushing.

He lays back, folding his hands behind his head.

“So, you gonna ride me?”

You lay a hand at his abs, pushing yourself up. He raises a brow and you bite your bottom lip, cheeks flushed and shrug. He smiles, running his hands along your sides, not straying too far from his hips. He tugs at the waistband of your panties and you go to slide them off. He keeps you on his chest and just tears them in half.

Your eyes widen at the sound of fabric tearing. You look down to see two shreds of pink fabric in his hands. You blush. He smirks and drops the torn garment on the floor. He brings his hands back to your ass and drags his fingers down to your cunt.

You whimper and squirm against him, wetness gathering on his briefs. He grunts and drags you along his cock. You fall onto his chest and tuck yourself into his neck; he turns his head, kissing your temple. You let out a soft moan as he slots a finger between your lips, bending oddly to rub at your clit.

He brings his hand around between the front of you, rubbing your clit again. He growls in frustration and rolls you over, laying over you, hand between your thighs. Your nails dig into his bicep as moan out, burying your face into your pillow.

He nudges your legs apart and when you rise up uncertainly, he leans down, kissing you. You moan against his lips and he smiles. He brings his hand between your legs, rubbing at your clit again. You move with his hand, a fluid, waving motion on the bed. A tiny moan escapes from your mouth and he grins against your lips. He takes his chances and slowly slides a finger into your cunt. He groans at the way you cling to him.

It’s soft and warm, slippery and hot, and he wants it for the rest of his life. He licks his lips and watches his hand, how it glistens with your slick. He slits himself between your legs again and moves further down the bed. You push yourself onto your elbows and blink at him, worry swirling in your eyes. When his thumb brushes against your clit, your arms shake and you drop back to the bed.

He smirks and draws your thighs over his shoulders, kissing your inner thigh, teeth dragging against the skin a little. You whimper loudly, arching off the bed at the lightest of touches and he feels an oddly warm squeeze around his ribs. He moves his head forward, laying his tongue against you, flicking up to your clit.

You twist against him and he lays an arm over your lower stomach. He devours you as if you were a four course meal. Your toes curl and you cry out, panting towards your ceiling. A warm hand skims up your stomach, and you get the nerve to look down. Ransom’s eyes are dark, brooding—possessive.

You arch slightly against him and he hums against you, tongue not slowing its assault. He closes his eyes, moving down until his tongue gently dips into you. You tense, taking in a sharp breath. His hand at your tummy pats your soft pudge and you swallow down, clutching at his palm. He moves his hand, and you worry you got the wrong idea until he threads your fingers together.

He revitalizes his movements with more vigor, groaning at your taste. You whimper and writhe under him. He fully entraps his tongue in you and you cry out, legs shaking. He holds you down to the bed and your heels dig into his back. He slurps up the slick that floods out of you and pulls back with a smirk.

You lay on the bed, twitching a little and he wipes his mouth clean. He untangles your hands and gently slides your legs off his shoulders. He crawls back up to you, tucking you into his side and kisses your temple. You turn over, slinging a leg over his own and he smiles into your hair.

You crane your neck up and look at him. He looks at you and raises a brow, you blush before stammering:

“You didn’t—” You look down to where your leg is raised a little.

“Don’t worry, it’s ok.”

You shake your head, hand going down to his abs. He eyes you and you swallow down your nerves, slipping your hand into his briefs. He groans, curling an arm under you, nosing your throat. You clumsily wrap your hand around him and jerk him a little. He squishes you to him and swears he hasn’t had a better handjob.

You struggle with his briefs and he shoves them off. His cock springs up and you lose your breath. A few weeks ago, you weren’t given the time to look at him, now—now, you understand he’s truly massive.

His cock is huge—long, 8 inches minimum, thick like a fucking log, definitely about the size of your forearm and covered in veins; a soft red going dark at the tip where his precum settles in the cleft of his slit and it twitches towards you.

You wrap your hand around him, holding him with good pressure and start jerking him. He hisses through his teeth and groans. You lay yourself against him, and he kisses your temple, muttering how good you are for him.

“Feels so fucking good.”

You nuzzle into his side and he squishes you to him. He grunts, stomach jumping, and he turns over to kiss you; it’s hot, hard and quickly becomes him grinding against you hand and your thigh. You let go of him and he licks into your mouth, as you whine. He slips his arm from under you and bends one of your legs to your chest and hooks the other one around his hips.

He spits into his hand, slicking his cock up and pushes into you. You arch against him, whining. He shushes you, bringing your bent knee to his shoulder, kissing your ankle. He holds your thighs, hands slipping down to your hips and fixes his grasp. When his hands have settled, he begins railing you, hard, fast, insistent; pushing you with his weight into the mattress.

You claw at his arms, panting under him. He grunts, staring down at you, meeting your wide eyes. He drops his gaze to your tits, which move in tune with his thrusts. He pushes a little deeper into you and you arch, rising off the bed, screaming out. He lays a hand down on your stomach, flattening you back to the mattress. Your eyes roll back, head digging into your pillow and he smirks.

He grabs your hips, lifting your lower hips a little, bringing you over his thighs and pounds into you. You scream out again, it’s a pathetic little broken noise and your stomach muscles floor.

“Fuck.” He groans.

“R-Ransom!” You whine, chest rising and falling, his eyes follow your tits movements. You mewl softly and squirm under him. He drops your leg from his shoulder to bring it around his hip. He lays his weight against you, pressing a kiss to your neck. You bring an arm around his neck, digging your fingers into the meat of his shoulder.

“You ok?”

You nod and press him closer to you, tightening your legs around him.

“Please don’t stop.”

He smirks into your temple and gives a gentle thrust, hips moving fluidly but slow, deep. You rock with him, gasping softly into his ear, the warmth of your breath hitting the shell of his left ear. He digs his fingers into your sides, and kisses your neck, teeth dragging against your skin.

You shiver beneath him and he rumbles softly. Your breath comes in a quick, sharp gasp as he gives you a rough thrust. You turn your head, linking kisses to his jaw. He catches your lips and you writhe under him. His tongue slides into your mouth as a hand snakes its way between the two of you, rubbing at your clit. You cry out into his mouth but he keeps kissing you, muttering soft praise against your lips.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Take my cock so good, baby.”

“Ransom, please.” You mewl.

“You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum on my cock, baby? Huh, gonna drench my cock?”

You nod, scratching your nails down his back, covering his skin in soft bright red lines. He hisses, pressing a kiss to your cheek before absolutely railing you into the bed; hitting deep and hard, knocking your metal-framed bed against the wall, grunting loudly as you cry out his name, tear collecting on your lashes.

He groans, bringing you further down his cock as your thighs shake and a broken moan is pulled from your lips. You cunt clenches down on him and Ransom digs his fingers into your hips, head dropping to stare down at where you meet. His cock glistens with your slick and he shivers, reaching his own orgasm.

He pumps you full of his cum, groaning softly, eyes trailing up to your face; your own a little lidded, a soft blush covering the tops of your cheeks and your nose, your lips spit shined and hair a mess under you—what his eyes really lock on is the purpling bite mark on your throat. He groans, overexerted as his cock spews out one last shot into your willing tight pussy.

He catches his breath, gently moving up to cup your cheek. You lazily turn into his palm and he smiles softly. He lays down over you, kissing your cheek and neck softly, bringing you back down to earth; clearing your head of the clouds.

You twist against him and he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. He leans up again, slowly sliding out—now soft and spent. You whimper at the loss and he shushes you, patting your inner thigh.

He gets off the bed, padding over to your tiny bathroom. He spots a face towel and grabs it, wetting it with warm water before ringing it out, coming back to you. He carefully lifts your legs, stopping whenever a noise you let out is too loud and cleans you up, wiping that of his cum which dripped down your thighs.

You’re knocked out by the time he finishes and he rolls his eyes. He dresses you in his button-down shirt, and a pair of black panties. He tucks your blankets around you and steps back once your cocooned and swallows as that stupid, goddamned, heavy weight settles covers his body, burning him from head to toe.

He grabs his briefs and slips them on, as well as his pants. He fixes his belt and searches for his shirt, remembering and turning back to you. His chest hurts with each breath he takes and he grabs his suit coat, slipping on and tying his shoes.

But he couldn’t blame Y/N for his actions, he shouldn’t have walked out on her. Not after the weekend they'd shared with his family. Not after the step they’d taken together and how it led to something outside of friendship. He was hurt to learn about Dean’s prominence in her life, that she hadn’t even told him about how close they’d gotten.

Now, though, he couldn’t hold off on his apology, of righting the wrong he had done. It had gone on for too long and they had this stupid pact, the worst idea ever, to complete. And that is how Bucky found himself at her apartment block, thanking the neighbour that held the door for him.

The apology, that he’d practised all morning, was swirling around his head throughout the elevator journey. Bucky, completely focused on how to start their conversation, hadn’t even realised that he’d walked out and knocked on the door until it opened

And it opened on the person he didn’t want it to be. Dean.

Bucky faltered and his mouth formed a thin line at the sight of the undeniably handsome man in a button-up and slacks. He quickly spotted the matching suit jacket that was hung on the pegs in the hallway.

“Can I help you?” Dean asked with confusion etched on his face.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Y/N.”

“You must be Bucky.”

“James, to people that I don’t know,” Bucky responded, his words rumbled from his chest.

“Well, James, Y/N invited me to Jean’s wedding, and we went to the rehearsal yesterday,” Dean folded his arms, his stocky build filling the door frame as he held the protective stance.

Bucky’s stomach dropped, a numbness taking over his limbs as he took in Dean’s words, his voice smaller than he expected when he eventually responded, “can I at least talk to her?”

He caught a flash of anger across Dean’s face, and maybe a flicker of pity in the man’s eyes while he contemplated Bucky’s request.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dean shook his head and shut the door.

Bucky’s fingers ran through his locks to calm himself, his body shook with the pain and hurt he’d caused himself. But mostly for how he had treated Y/N. She didn’t deserve this, and he would make it up to her one day. If she’d let him.

Bucky turned on his heel, he couldn’t lose his best friend and he should have thought of that before he gave in to his feelings. Unsure of how to prove his loyalty and care for Y/N, not quite the mastermind that would be able to solve this without a helping hand, he pulled out his cell and made a call.

Jean and Scott were a beautiful couple, full of smiles and love as they jointly cut into the perfectly white three-tiered cake. Cameras flashed and captured their moment. Cheers echoed around the wedding venue when Jean smooshed a piece of cake into Scott’s face.

“Is it wrong of me to have wished that Bucky had turned up?” Y/N looked at her companion.

Dean’s large hand gripped Y/N’s shoulder firmly, “Not at all, you were in love with him.”

Y/N nodded but knew there was no past tense about her feelings for Bucky, but he hadn’t been in contact since that day. Since he had disregarded her feelings, their friendship and it still hurt.

Luckily for Y/N and Dean, there were no romantic feelings between them. It was a one-off moment at Darcy and Ian’s wedding, months ago. Since then, they’ve built a solid friendship, and as much as the pact with Bucky had turned out to be a disaster, she knew it wouldn’t with Dean because there was no blurred line. It was simply platonic.

Dean disappeared once he caught the eye of a bridesmaid, leaving Y/N to sit at the table alone and wallow in her pity party for one until Wade and Vanessa appeared. They had snuck into the wedding reception after being late and slid into the seats either side of Y/N.

“What’s a hot piece like you doing sitting all by herself cradling her wine like a kitten?” Vanessa asked, a smirking pout on her lips as she tucked a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

“Just not feeling it tonight guys. Nice of you to show up.” You sassed with a wink.

Wade palmed her cheek, turning her attention to the uncharacteristically serious expression, “You would have been late too if you walked in on the solo moves, she was doing in the bedroom.”

Y/N laughed, “Was it the one you showed me the other week?”

Wade’s eyes sparkled with mischief, “Oh, you naughty girls.”

“What’s really wrong?” Vanessa insisted, “Is it Bucky?”

“Oh, he was hot.” Wade chimed in but backed away at the glare he received from his wife.

“I miss him. But he hasn’t reached out and I hate him for it.”

“You had sex? The emotional kind, right?” Wade commented, “What happened cos you seemed legit.”

Y/N scoffed and twisted the wine glass by the stem, “I thought it meant something. And he just shut down. Didn’t give me a second to explain anything and then said, ‘thank you’. Like I was giving him a service.”

“Ouchie mamma,” Wade winced and narrowed his eyes, “Want me to take him out? Nobody upsets our Cookie.”

“Nah, I’d rather him realise how much of a dick he’s been and fester in it,” She noticed the way Vanessa had not said anything and turned towards her, “What are you thinking? You’re awfully quiet.”

The woman beside Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “If you needed to explain something, then maybe you should just call him and do that?”

Y/N knew she should contact him, just as much as he should contact her. Her eyes scanned the room, and even though she felt a little lighter with Wade and Vanessa’s presence, she still didn't want to stay.

“Okay, I’m miserable and not in the partying mood at all so I’m calling it quits,” Y/N announced and slid out of the chair, “Thank you guys, and sorry for being such a Debbie Downer.”

The couple pulled Y/N into a tight hug and simultaneously whispered.

“He won’t even know he’s dead.”

“Call him.”

Y/N hadn’t even pressed play on the true crime documentary before the buzzer sounded. With a huff, she placed the ice cream tub onto the coffee table and headed to the comms unit in the hallway.

Wanda and Natasha’s voices crackled through the receiver and Y/N had no choice but to let them in, they could see the lounge lights were on from the sidewalk. As much as she loved her friends, their surprise visit wasn’t what she wanted right now.

“I just had this feeling you weren’t at the wedding anymore,” Wanda pulled off her denim jacket and settled on the couch.

“More like Ness called you,” Y/N responded.

“Wade actually, he worries about you like a big brother,” Natasha appeared from the kitchen and held up a bottle and glasses, “I just came for the wine.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and joined them on the couch, snuggled into the middle of them, and that’s when the emotions were unleashed. Eyes stung with the tears that had been threatening to fall since she left Jean and Scott’s wedding, and they finally fell. Her cheeks grew hot and damp, her nose blocked. The sobs stopped her from being able to talk properly.

“You don’t have to explain Y/N, we knew this would be hard. For the both of you,” Wanda held her hand and rubbed her thumb along the back of it in soothing circles.

But it didn’t soothe her, it only fuelled the anger, “Both of us? We slept together and he bolted, completely ghosted me. He doesn’t even want to be my friend. And what hurts the most is that I thought he felt the same way, that he lov- whatever, it doesn’t matter now. I don’t want to see him ever again.”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something but instead, she passed the ice cream while Natasha poured their drinks.

Y/N rested her head on Wanda’s shoulder, “Sorry for snapping.”

Wanda hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“So, are you going to Tony and Pepper’s wedding vow renewal?” Natasha asked and passed the filled to the brim glasses of wine.

Wanda seethed, “Are you serious Nat?”

Y/N didn’t look at either of them, just continued to stare deeply at the paused screen of the television. Hoping that the fresh tears that were brewing wouldn’t fall. She wished she could stop herself crying so much over Bucky.

“What? She was invited and not as a plus one for Bucky.”

“She’s right,” Y/N responded and sat up, “But I’m not sure if I want to go. I wasn’t exactly the most sociable today and I’m not very fond of seeing all the happy couples, love and marriage on parade right now.”

“Tony loved you at Peter and Gwen’s wedding,” Natasha retaliated, “He would want you to come along regardless. He wouldn’t invite just anyone.”

Y/N groaned and grabbed a cushion to bury her head into it. A muffled comment of embarrassment slipped through the plush material. She didn’t need to be reminded of the orgasm she had in the middle of the rehearsal dinner while Tony and Pepper frantically searched for the remote of the vibrating panties.

“I can be your plus one. Everyone we know is going to be there,” Natasha commented, “Wanda, Victor, Sam and -”

Y/N lifted her head with a sulky face, “- and Bucky.”

Natasha’s face shifted from neutral to stern in a flash, “I don’t want to tell you ‘I told you so’, but I will if you don’t go to the wedding with me.”

“Fine. Can we watch this now please?” Y/N conceded and grabbed the television remote.

Natasha carefully slipped out of the lounge, tiptoeing so not to disturb Y/N and Wanda as they slept on the couch. She pulled the cell from her jacket pocket and quickly typed a message.

She’ll be there. Don’t fuck this up Barnes.

To Be Continued...

The couple parted slowly, foreheads pressed together and sweet smiles on their lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Bucky murmured, his nose knocking against Y/N’s in a soft gesture.

“Me too,” she whispered, kissing him once more, “want to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”

Bucky dipped down and gave her a chaste kiss, fingers interlocking with hers as they sauntered out of the kitchen, down the hallway. Y/N paused in the doorway to her bedroom, her heart hammered in her chest while she watched Bucky perch on the end of her bed, realising she hadn’t followed.

“Is this, okay?” He asked rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, if I assumed-”

Bucky’s words were cut off by Y/N launching herself at him. She had wanted this for so long and finally, they were taking a step, crossing the line of friendship into something more.

He fell backwards and joined in with her laughter while she pressed kisses all over his face, a huge grin forming with each one. Their bodies tangled around one another, the giggles fading into breathless moans.

Bucky wasn’t aware of his phone ringing until Y/N’s voice punctured the bubble of desire he had clouded himself with. “That’s the second time it’s gone off Buck, you might want to answer it?”

“No chance,” Bucky kissed her neck, “-not when you’re making pretty noises because of me.”

Bucky’s phone went silent but then Y/N’s phone began ringing and much to Bucky’s chagrin, she leant across to the bedside table and passed the phone to him. He looked at her with confusion then saw the name flashing on the screen. Winnie.

“Shit, I’ll be right back.” Bucky took the phone, sliding Y/N to the side.

He headed out of the bedroom, turning back to give Y/N a small smile before he disappeared down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“Hi, Mom - yes, we just walked through the door.”

Once the sound of Bucky’s footsteps subsided, Y/N’s head dropped back against the headboard accompanied by a frustrated growl. The atmosphere had changed when Winnie had called, and she couldn’t ignore the call and leave Bucky’s mother to worry.

She couldn’t help but wonder if what happened was the heat of the moment and they wouldn’t get a chance to talk, that Bucky would play it off, like nothing occurred. Back to friends, once more.

Y/N berated herself for being negative, Bucky hadn’t given her a reason to dismiss his intentions and she hadn’t been forthcoming with her feelings either. They were in new territory, and they should talk before they slip up and somebody gets hurt.

His soft words filtered through the apartment. Y/N couldn’t hear the conversation, but it didn’t seem like it would be ending anytime soon. She decided to redress and head into the living room, flicking on the television to set up The Boys while she waited for Bucky to join her.

A series of knocks at the front door pulled Y/N away from her preparations, her smile faltered when she greeted Natasha, noticing the red rims of her eyes and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. The redhead flew past you and into the lounge, unaware of Bucky in the kitchen.

Y/N gave Bucky a small smile and shrug, “I’d best go check on her.”

Bucky’s throat bobbed before he plastered on a smile before backing out of the door, “yeah, maybe we can talk about what happened sometime this week?”

“Yeah, I think we need to.” Y/N pressed a kiss to his cheek then headed towards the woman sobbing on her couch.

Natasha hugged the cushion to her, zoned out with tear tracks down her cheeks. Y/N approached cautiously, offering a box of tissues. The second Y/N sat beside Nat, her friend had fallen onto her shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably.

No matter what Bucky and Y/N did for the next couple of weeks, they couldn’t have a quiet moment to themselves. Something always got in their way, and it was frustrating to no end, they kept in contact, but they couldn’t talk about the kiss over text.

Bucky’s latest project had him working outside of his scheduled hours, into the evenings and long into the night. Leaving Y/N to occupy her time with her own work and friends. Then the weekend came, and it didn’t go to plan. He’d hoped the night out with friends would give them a chance to talk things through privately, but the way Y/N tossed back the cocktails, he knew it would be impossible. Instead, he made sure she got home safely.

They were finally free to meet but Bucky contemplated sending the bail-out text. The pain in his shoulder was too much, unable to wear the prosthesis for at least another day or two. He finally pressed the send button.

He should have known better, the last couple of weeks, he’d been pushing himself to the limit. The wedding, work and a few nights out had left his shoulder and chest aching and tense. He needed time off from wearing it in such hectic conditions.

And that’s where Bucky’s insecurities began creeping in, his appearance without his prosthesis. Deep down, he knew Y/N had never questioned the missing appendage. She’d seen him, on multiple occasions, topless with and without it connected to his body.

They were on the verge of something new, different. What if things continued, that they became intimate, and she didn’t like what she saw? She might not have considered him attractive when she saw him half-dressed before, but things have changed, she might back out of whatever this could be.

Y/N had been by Bucky’s side for over a decade, his best friend. She treated him just as well, if not better than Steve and Sam. His negative thoughts were plaguing the way he saw her and that wasn’t going to sit well with him. This opportunity wasn’t going to run away from him.

Bucky’s knuckles bashed against the apartment door, he was a fool for sending the text to Y/N and he needed to rectify it immediately. Get everything out on the table and tell her, show her, how he feels. No interruptions, or self-sabotaging, allowed.

The second the door opened, his heart flipped at the sight of Y/N, albeit surprised, in her cute little pyjama set. He couldn’t help himself and stepped straight in, wrapping his right arm around her shoulder, and kissing her.

Breathlessly, they pulled apart and Bucky shut the front door, “Sorry for being an idiot.”

“Well, if being an idiot means you kiss like that, then please continue,” Y/N smirked.

Bucky hesitated, processing her words when she interrupted his train of thought.

“Well, are you going to kiss me?”

Bucky didn’t need to be told a third time, their lips meeting in another kiss. It didn’t take them long to stumble into Y/N’s bedroom and fall onto her mattress. He was enamoured by Y/N, watching as she slowly removed her top. His erection strained against the confines of his jeans, but his free hand found its way to Y/N’s exposed skin, stroking at the dip of her curves.

“Beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful, doll,” Bucky cooed, sitting up and bringing her chest closer to him.

While he peppered light kisses on the swell of Y/N’s breasts, he drank in the look of pleasure on her features and keened at the slight gasps she made while his tongue swiped against her soft skin. He couldn’t believe she was finally in his arms, willing to go further with him than he had ever dreamed would be possible.

Senses overwhelmed with everything Y/N gave to him; the grind of her hips, the fingers caressing his scalp before she gave a tug of his hair. Bucky couldn’t hold back anymore, flipping Y/N onto the mattress and kissing down her stomach while his fingers fumbled with unbuttoning and pulling down her jeans.

Wrapped in bedsheets, Y/N automatically began scrolling through social media when a notification from Becca Barnes for a tagged picture. It was from the wedding; Y/N and Bucky on the dance floor and her heart fluttered at the sight. They were wrapped around one another, smiling, and enjoying their presence. Then spotted the caption - big brother is punching above his weight class - and she chuckled.

“What’re you giggling about?”

Y/N’s head snapped to the door, and she got lost in how handsome Bucky appeared. The water droplets gliding down his pecs and abs stopped her train of thought, mouth drying. She shook her head, an attempt to stop herself from jumping his bones again, and grinned at Bucky

She launched the phone at him to show the post. He caught it with ease and turned the phone around, and his grin grew and grew, and Y/N couldn’t help but bask in his happiness. Then his smile faltered before he handed the phone back.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to read it.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Y/N looked at him then back to her phone, the message from Dean on display: Looking forward to seeing you on Friday.

“No worries, it’s that guy from-” Y/N began to explain but Bucky cut her off.

“Darcy and Ian’s wedding. Yeah, I know.” Bucky slumped at the end of the bed and began getting dressed, his hunched figure no longer exuding the euphoria they had experienced.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Y/N couldn’t help the words tumbling out of her mouth, “we’ve met up a few times.”

The silence made her stomach tie in knots. She didn’t know what had happened. The last few months of dancing around one another had been leading up to this but now he’s acting like he doesn’t care.

“Look, I best get going.” Bucky pulled on his jacket, face devoid of any form of emotion.

Eyes misting over, she whispered, “you’re leaving?”

Bucky nodded without a second glance, his jaw ticking, “Thanks for the, ya know, what we just did.”

Y/N pulled the sheets around her tighter, anger boiling at the way Bucky was treating her, “fuck you, Bucky. Get out!”

He didn’t hesitate. The front door shutting within seconds. Y/N’s heart shattered, and she could no longer hold back the tears.

A few moments passed before Y/N could calm herself and find her phone amongst the sheets and pressing the call button above the text message.

“I made a mistake.” Y/N sobbed, “Dean, I fucked up.”

Continue Here...

Then it was all but confirmed when you overheard them. All you wanted was a delicious cup of your beloved coffee, but their voices carried out into the corridor before you entered, stopping you in your tracks.

“They’re into me Nat,” Bucky stated, the smugness oozing from his words.

“Nah-uh Barnes, you should have seen the way they reacted earlier.” Natasha challenged.

Steve’s voice piped up, surprising you as you hid around the corner, “not this again. Does it really matter if they’re into guys or girls?”

In unison, they retaliated with a resounding yes.

“Ever thought, that they might not be interested in either of you?” Steve commented.

You stifled the laugh that bubbled up and headed back down the hallway, a plan already forming in your head. You couldn’t wait to see how long they lasted with you flirting back but unlike them, you wanted to go full out. With no hidden agendas.

Everything would be clear as day to them both. And it just so happened to be that there was a certain movie night that would require their skills of subtlety for sure.

Bucky had almost dragged you into his lap on the couch, instead, you took the spot between him and Natasha. He didn’t seem impressed, but he relaxed once you’d tucked into his side and shared your blanket with him, even if Natasha also had the other part of it.

FRIDAY dimmed the lights as the movie began to play. You hadn’t even bothered to vote on what it was because you really couldn’t care less. All you wanted to do was bring down Bucky and Natasha’s plan to find out your sexual orientation but also have a little bit of your own fun at the same time.

There was no denying that you found the pair attractive. Often, in the darkness of the night, you’d find yourself thinking about them. How you wished you could touch them, caressing every single part of their bodies, kissing every inch of their soft curves and thick muscles.

A slight shuffle from Natasha distracted you from your daydream as she hoisted the blanket up to her chest, hands holding it tightly under her chin. Then Bucky shifted, his thigh pressing against your own. Warmth blooming at the spot of the connected limbs.

It’s now or never.

Fingers brushed over denim; his breathing faltered slightly but calmed when your palm flattened over the top of his thigh. You could feel his gaze boring into the side of your face, but you kept your eyes trained on the flashing images of the movie.

The first phase of your plan had begun, and it was working a treat. The pads of your fingers kneaded at the muscle, and you felt Bucky relax deeper into the cushions, and couldn’t help the smirk the twitched at your lips.

Now, it was time to implement part two which focused on the spy beside you. Your other hand began to wander under the blanket, skimming over the soft material of Natasha’s leggings, stroking nonsensical patterns across her leg. A soft gasp left her lips when your fingertips brushed higher, toying with the elasticated waistband.

The blanket was an incredible ally in concealing the way you teased the pair. The action film playing on the speakers around the room was the perfect way to disguise the hitches in their lungs. Your hand continued edging closer, oh so slowly.

The shallow breaths stilled on either side of you as you took things further. Your hand grazed across the denim, feeling the hard length of Bucky’s cock straining against the material while your fingertips swiped across Natasha’s covered pussy.

Teasing the soldier and assassin was turning you on beyond belief, feeling that bubble of pleasure at your core with each stroke across their clothed ones. Heat travelled through your body when they twitched at your sides and readjusted their bodies, facing towards you with more purpose.

You weren’t sure if either of them knew what was happening under the covers with the other person, but you were more concerned with the other members of the Avengers sat in close proximity and a certain super soldier that can hear and smell sex a mile away.

Natasha didn’t resist when your hand dipped under the waistband of her leggings. Your confidence blooming when she dropped her head onto your shoulder and a light kiss was pressed to your neck. You almost lost it yourself at the feel of her plump lips.

The tell-tale sound of a buckle undoing brought your attention back to Bucky, hands edging closer to the leather of his now loose belt. Fingers making light work of the button and zipper. You palmed at his erection, his hand wrapping around your wrist then dropping under his jeans, putting pressure against the back of your hand.

And that’s how you remained, slowly grazing, stroking, and palming the intimate areas of Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff.

The credits rolled and the team began to go their separate ways, filtering off to their rooms, their own homes, or for Steve, to the gym. As soon as the last person departed, you untangled from them, but Bucky was quicker to stand up.

Within seconds he was hoisting you over his shoulder, “Fuck, I need you right now.”

Your squeak transitioned into a whimper at the way he manhandled you and got a terrific view of his ass but the sounds of softly padding feet took your attention. Natasha was following you and your mouth watering at the silent agreement for this to happen.

Nerves fluttered in your belly when you realised you were heading towards Bucky’s apartment. Of course, you knew where this was going to end up but suddenly it was hitting you like a freight train.

Bucky gently laying you down on the couch, the blood rushing back to the right parts of your body and making you feel dizzy and drunk on the sexual tension that filled the air. Your mouth parted to say something, anything but no sound came out, instead, all you did was reach out your hands to the beautiful people who stood in front of you.

Nat looked over to Bucky, “Looks like we were both wrong Barnes, they want us both.”

“And I have nothing against that,” Bucky smirked, “are you even capable of sharing Romanoff?”

She smirked, “Let’s find out shall we.”

Bucky pulled your legs, bringing you to the edge of the couch. Your body lowered in the seat, head resting on the cushions, “do you want us?”

You barely nodded before Natasha pulled you in for a bruising kiss, her hands clamped around your face as it grew more passionate with each press of your lips and swipes of tongues. Bucky peeled off your pants, exposing your own desires for them while Nat tugged off your top and quickly removed her own clothes.

You were too caught up in enjoying the feel of Nat’s fingers trailing down your stomach and how close her pussy was to your face as she knelt on the seat, unable to focus on Bucky’s words.

“Need to hear you say it, honey,” Bucky palmed at your thighs as they trembled in anticipation.

“Yes, I want you,” You croaked, “both of you.”

Bucky took off his pants, exposing his large precum covered cock. The heat in the room went up another notch at the sight of Bucky’s grip on his shaft, the way he was pumping up and down the length.

“Tasha, ride their face.” Bucky commanded, “I want to watch. For now.”

Nat complied, lifting her slender legs over your body, her slick pussy lowering down onto your face. Her taste bloomed on your tongue with each flick, suck, and nip. All that could be heard were the lewd sounds of your mouth against her, the whimpers falling from above you and Bucky’s grunts as he fisted himself.

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