Sebastian Is My King 👑

By the fifth night, you stop standing near windows entirely. You keep the curtains drawn. You avoid the living room after sunset.

But the feeling doesn’t stop.

It’s worse when you’re alone in bed. The blinds barely parted, letting in thin silver streetlight from outside of your house. You roll onto your side, facing the wall, because if you don’t look at the window, maybe it can’t look at you.

You almost convince yourself you’re imagining it. Until there’s the faintest sound. Metal against brick. A shift of weight on the fire escape. Your breath catches. Silence. Then gone.

He isn’t there to scare you. Not really. He’s there because HYDRA gave him your face. A target file. Surveillance photos. Routine patterns.

He learned the times you leave for work. The exact minute you turn off your bedside lamp. The way you hum absentmindedly when you’re cooking.

The Winter Soldier does not feel.

But something in him hesitates when he watches you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. When you laugh at a show alone on your couch. When you pause at the window, looking out — almost like you feel him there.

He stays in the shadows of the fire escape, metal fingers silent against rusted railing. He tells himself it’s reconnaissance. He tells himself it’s timing. He tells himself it’s preparation. But he’s been “preparing” for five nights.

On the seventh night, you don’t close the curtain. You’re tired. Tired of feeling hunted in your own home. You stand in front of the window deliberately. Your hands are shaking, but you push the curtain fully aside.

“Whoever you are,” you whisper, voice barely steady, “just stop.”

Silence.

The city hums below. And for a second — just a second — you see him. A shape across the alley. On the opposite rooftop. Half-hidden in darkness.

Broad shoulders. Long hair. A glint of something silver where a hand should be.

Your stomach drops. Your eyes lock. And something strange happens. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t aim. Doesn’t advance. He just… stares. Not like a predator about to strike. More like someone trying to remember something.

The next night you wake up absolutely freezing, the window is open when you sit up. Just slightly. Cold air drifting in. You know you locked it.

You know you did. Your heart pounds as you sit up.

He’s inside. Not close. Standing in the far corner of your bedroom like a shadow pulled into human shape. You can barely make him out except for the arm — matte metal catching moonlight. Your breath shatters in your lungs. He doesn’t lunge. Doesn’t speak. He just watches you.

And when he finally moves, it isn’t toward you. He steps closer to the window. Guards it. Like something out there is more dangerous than he is.

His voice, when it comes, is low. Rough. Rusted from disuse. “…They’re coming.”

His breath was ragged, forehead pressed to yours as you clung to him, still dizzy from the aftershocks of everything he’d given you.

“You ever think about…” he murmured, voice low, “about me… putting a baby in you?”

Your breath hitched. The idea settled in your chest like a second heartbeat.

He kept going, quieter now, almost desperate. “If you had my baby,” he whispered, “we’d be linked. You’d be mine. Forever. Everyone would know just by looking at you.”

He wasn’t sure you’d hear the truth underneath the words, that it wasn’t just about leaving something behind. It was about permanence, that no matter where the world sent him, some part of him would always live in you. 

Your heart pounded so hard he could feel it when he touched your chest.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, your voice barely a breath.

He nodded once. “I want you full of me. Marked by me. Need you tied to me so tight you can’t even think about leaving.”

You trembled with how badly you wanted it too.

You reached up, cradled his jaw in both hands. His eyes were wild, terrified you might say no, but you didn’t disappoint him.

You leaned up, kissed him like it meant everything.

And you said, “Then do it.”

Something ancient and starving cracked open in his chest. He’d never been needed like this before. Not just for what he could give in the dark, but for what he could plant and grow. 

He froze. “You’re serious?”

“I have an IUD,” you said softly. “Take it out.”

“What?”

“Take. It. Out.” There was command in your tone, and he couldn’t look away.

*****

He didn’t remember when he stopped breathing for himself and started breathing for you. But every heartbeat, every jagged inhale was all yours now.

The room was stifling with heat, lit only by the muted glow of moonlight spilling through sheer curtains. The sheets were twisted beneath you, damp with sweat and tension. He had you pinned, your knees folded tight to your chest, legs spread wide around his waist.

Every time his hips rocked forward, he imagined the way your body would grow around the child he gave you. His breath came harder just thinking about your belly round, nipples swollen, the scent of you thicker, deeper, and riper. He wanted to breed it into you. 

Bucky pressed you into the mattress like he was trying to etch you into it, into him. Your name left his mouth in a growl that sounded like a prayer. His metal hand pinned your wrists above your head, trembling from the effort it took to hold back and use only enough force to keep you still and helpless beneath the full weight of his body.

His chest was flush against yours, every inch of him bearing down, breath ragged, hips grinding slow and deep with unbearable precision. Each thrust shoved you higher into the bed, and every one felt like he was trying to push something into you that went far beyond just himself. 

And he realized he was. It wasn’t just come, or pleasure. It was the most sacred thing he could offer: himself, in raw form, poured into your body, begging to be accepted, begging to take root.

“You’re going to take every drop of me. And when you’re round with my seed… carrying my baby—,” he dipped down, brushing his lips along your parted mouth, “there won’t be a soul who won’t know. You’re mine. Forever.”

He brushed his thumb over your pulse point, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath his touch.

“You’ll never be able to escape me,” he murmured, voice low, rough. “Even if you tried… you’d still feel me. Right here.”

He meant every word. Not only out of obsession, but because he needed you so deep inside his marrow, he could never be hollow again. The thought of anyone else ever seeing you like this, flushed, fucked, and full, made him want to lose his goddamn mind.

Your fingers twitched against his grip. Your body arched, but he held you in place, caging you completely, legs pinned, arms trapped, your entire form opened and exposed beneath him.

Your trust, as always, undid him. You were bare and vulnerable and still gave him everything. He’d been built to destroy, but here he had been made whole by the way you let him in.

He groaned, burying his face in your throat, voice muffled against your skin.

“I need to make you mine in every way,” he whispered hoarsely. “I want to see you swollen with my child. To know a part of me is growing inside you. That’s how I’ll know you’re truly mine.”

Your eyes met his, sharp and defiant, hunger sparking like flint. “I want it, Bucky. I want all of you. I want to feel you everywhere, for as long as I breathe.”

Those words broke him. You didn’t just take him, you claimed him. You weren’t afraid of the sharp edges; you didn’t flinch from the weight of what he offered. You asked for more, and he was going to give it to you until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

Each breath turned into a battle, control against surrender, hunger against need.

The air thickened between you.

The rhythm was changing now, every shift of muscle and breath dragging across your senses like heat. His hips moved faster, harder, the angle sharper with your legs folded so high. Your body accepted him with every thrust, stretched around him, clinging to him.

His grip on your wrists faltered as he let them go, only to slide his hands under your thighs, pushing them back until your knees nearly touched your shoulders. The new angle made you cry out.

He almost stopped, but then he realized your cry was hunger. Your body was stretching to take everything he gave and begging for more. He had to grip tighter to keep from coming right then.

“I can’t stop,” he growled, his forehead resting against yours, sweat slick on both yours skin. “I won’t stop. I’m going to fill you so deep, so full, there’ll be no stopping it.”

His pace grew savage now, desperation pouring through every motion, not just lust, but a fevered need to claim, to mark, to own. This wasn’t sex anymore, he was carving himself into you with every thrust, not just to be remembered, but so no part of you could ever forget he’d been there. His hands gripped your thighs like handles, pulling you into every thrust.

The room filled with sound: the low rasp of his breathing, the creak of the bed, the wet slap of skin against skin. It wasn’t gentle, it was frantic, pure desperation turned to motion.

“You ruin me,” he rasped. “You make me forget what I am.” You made him something else. Not just a weapon, not just a soldier. He was more than his past when he was inside you; he was alive. And he never wanted to go back to that ghost of a man he’d been before.

“Good,” you hissed back, voice trembling with want. “Forget everything. Just remember me.”

For a heartbeat he froze, caught between worship and need, before the hunger surged again, fiercer than before.

His rhythm broke and turned urgent. He couldn’t hold back anymore. The thought of his seed soaking deep, of it staying inside you long after he was gone, made his spine arch, made his cock throb harder. He wanted to breed this into you, mark you until the world knew who you belonged to.

His pace lost precision and became a chase, every movement rougher, faster, more desperate to catch that elusive end neither of you could hold. You felt your pulse match his, both of you shaking at the edge where pleasure tangled with ache. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the sound of two people trying not to fall apart and failing gloriously.

He shifted, forcing your gaze back to his. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered, fierce and certain. “And you’re mine, Bucky. You don’t get to forget that either.”

His eyes darkened, not in satisfaction, but belief. “Good,” he breathed against your ear. “Because I’m not lettin’ you go. You’ll carry me forever. You’ll carry proof we’ll never be undone.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, both of you shaking.

“I don’t even exist without you anymore,” he whispered. “I stopped being me the second I touched you.”

“Then don’t stop,” you said. “Let it stay that way. Let me keep you.”

“You’ll swell with my baby,” he groaned, panting, wild-eyed, “and there won’t be a day — not one — you’re not mine.”

Your moan was helpless, drawn from somewhere deep and broken open. Your body trembled, spasming around him, your eyes fluttering shut as he pounded you into the mattress. And in that moment, he came undone.

He buried himself to the hilt, arms wrapping around your body as he released with a strangled sound. His entire form shook against you, every muscle tensed as he spilled into you, again and again, groaning your name like it was the only word he remembered.

He came harder than he ever had. Not because it felt good, though fuck, it did, but because he believed it. He believed you’d take him, keep him, and make something new from every broken piece of him.

Silence followed, no more than harsh breaths and shaky hands.

He didn’t pull out. He stayed pressed into you, body trembling, heart thudding wildly in his chest. His hands stroked your sides, gentler now, but no less possessive.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, lips pressed to your temple. “And I’ll never let you go.”

“And I’ll carry you. Always,” you whispered, fingers brushing his face. 

He shifted slightly, still inside you. He couldn’t bear to pull out and lose that warmth, that bond. He wanted to watch gravity keep his cum buried inside you, seeping into every part of you that mattered. 

His body twitched with overstimulated need, but his voice was dark with certainty. “We’re going to do that again,” he murmured, “and again... until it takes. Until you’re carrying my child. No escape. No doubt.”

He wouldn’t stop until he saw the proof. Until your breasts ached, your scent changed, your hips widened, and every part of you told the world: James Buchanan Barnes did this to me. 

He closed his eyes, letting the feeling settle deep, a peace both terrifying and holy. Even if the world took everything else, this would keep breathing somewhere inside you.

Next: What You Wanted All Along

✦ ˚ * series * ˚ ✦

temptation - 12.5k

“I found some land in upstate New York, it’s a quiet, woodsy area, with no neighbors for at least three miles. And when I saw her I knew I needed to go through with it. So I bought the property and I’ve been building the cabin myself, I just need a few more weeks to finish it and then I can bring her there with me.” or - bucky’s trying to get his life back in order, but everything changes when he sees you. He’s going to make you his, whether you like it or not.

don't blame me (love made me crazy) - 6.4k

You’ve been stuck in this cabin for a year, and over the course of that time you’ve tried so hard to remember that you didn’t come here willingly. But, Bucky is really good at making you forget that part, until, eventually, you come to believe that this is where you’re meant to be. No matter how you got here.

power over me - tba

“You know what this means, right?” Bucky asks breathlessly, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s going to happen now. After all, this is going to change things a lot, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to handle it. Not that it would matter, anyway. Not when Bucky immediately says, “We have to get married.”

✦ ˚ * extras * ˚ ✦

You remembered your first days spent here all too well.

You screamed and cried for help. Cowering in the corner as he walked towards you.

The helplessness you felt as he explained what was going on.

"I've been watching you for a while now, you know. You never noticed me.. not once." he scoffed.

He takes a strand of your hair in his hand, twirling it around his finger "You know it's not safe for someone who looks as pretty as you to walk home alone." you whimper trying to get away from his grasp.

You kicked, screamed, and cried until your voice was shot.

He sat there watching, amused at the sight.

He stood with a grunt.

"You'll be staying with me for a while.. look at me."

You ignore his order.

"Not gonna ask you again."

A hum escapes his throat when he once again gets no response, followed by an intense sting at you scalp.

You hiss in pain, you hands shoot up wrapping around his wrist. The only thing you can mutter is a hushed plea for him to let go.

"Oh sweetheart," he shakes his head, forcing your head back with a tug "you're mine now. You'll learn soon that your disobedience won't be tolerated here, not by me."

He smirks, wiping the tears running down your cheeks.

He shushes you "I don't wanna hurt you. I'm going to take care of you. Okay?" he says as if he didn't have a fist full of your hair painfully tight in his grasp.

"That sounds nice doesn't it? No more work, no more fights with your good for nothing boyfriend, no more walking to an empty apartment.."

He pushes himself between your thighs.

"It'll be just you and me. And if you're good, maybe I'll let you live upstairs with me." he whispers, his lips ghosting over your throat.

He grinds his bulge over your pussy.

A grunt escapes his lips as he repeats "I don't wanna hurt you. Not unless you give me a reason to."

You shiver, squeezing your eyes shut as he leaves a trail of sloppy, wet kisses down your neck to the valley between your breasts.

His thumbs rub your nipples. He smirks as they harden under his touch.

"Let me show you what I can do for you."

He looks you over once more.

He had discarded almost all your clothing, leaving you in your lacy, black panties.

He smiled an irritatingly smug smile in seeing your chest rise and fall rapidly.

"Scared?"

Your hands balled into fists as the man hovering above you pins them above your head.

He continue his hip movement on you, watching as you tried to remain stone faced. Though, the gasp the managed to escape your stubborn self gave you away.

His right hand slides down your body, making its way between your thighs.

Slowly, he peels the drenched fabric away from your cunt.

You can hear his smirk.

"Dirty girl." he whispers, landing a slap on your soaked pussy.

He flips you over on his lap.

You fall with a thud, your elbows quickly catching you before your face hits the floor.

His hand smoothing over your ass.

You try to crawl away from the man, your ass wiggling in the process. Only for him to land a strong slap on it.

You freeze as a whimper escapes your lips.

He lets out a chuckle. His hands explore your curves once more before he brings his attention to your throbbing clit.

You whine as his unnaturally cold thumb dips into your wetness.

Your body pushes into his touch.

You feel as he slowly pushes a finger in your hole.

"You don't know how many times I've watched you play with yourself. You really should keep your curtains closed. Unless, you like this, don't you?"

You kick away from him, catching him off guard.

You run to the door of your cell pushing it open and running out. Though, you don't make it far.

You're slammed against the wall.

His chest firmly keeping you in place.

"Shouldn't have done that." he drags you back into the cell, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

He throws you to the side as he locks the cell, tucking the key in his pocket.

You scurry to the corner, you back against the cool bars.

He stands in front of you, ripping his jacket off.

Your breath hitches as you see the silver that is of his arm.

You squirm as he picks you up, pushing you roughly against the bars.

He huffs "I told you I didn't want to hurt you."

You hear the clink of his belt before you feel him at your entrance.

Your hands grip on to his shoulders as he thrusts into you.

A loud whimper is ripped from your throat as he plunges his abnormally large cock into you.

A hiss escapes him along with a groan as your pussy clenches around him.

Tears brim your eyes as he pounds into you. The squelching sounds grow louder as they become only thing you're able to focus on.

He take your nipple in his teeth, carefully tugging at it.

You are unable to keep your whispers and moans in.

You unashamedly grow louder as you grew closer to your climax.

His lips moved along your neck leaving purple marks along it. He growls and grunts in your ear as he keeps up his insanely fast pace.

Strings of slick keep you both connected every time his hips moved back.

The man chuckled breathlessly as your body shook frantically "Gonna cum for me?" he hushed in your ear.

You nod helplessly, desperate for release.

He fucks into you eagerly, chasing his own high before nodding.

"Cum for me."

Immediately your pussy gushes around his cock, the obscene sound of his dick rutting into you and his balls slapping against you intensifies.

The splattering sound of your juices hitting the ground drive him over the edge.

He buries himself deep inside of you with a grunt and cums.

You huff as you feel the warmth of his release settling inside of you.

When he pulls out his release threatens to spill from your cunt.

He hums, using the tip of cock to collect the cum, rubbing it on your clit before shoving it back inside you.

He waits, watching as his white release seeps out.

His fingers slip inside you further making sure there will be evidence of him in you.

His didgets come out covered in his cream.

"Open." he says softly. You obey, your eyes glistening with tears and pleasure.

He collapses.

Holding you in his arms, your cheek pressing against the cool of his arm.

Time goes by as he rubs circles onto your back and both your breaths steady.

He carefully wraps his fingers around your chin.

'You're gonna be happy here with me?" he questions. You nod hesitantly.

"Say it."

"Yes." you say quietly.

"Say yes, sir."

"Yes, sir.." you reply followed by a sniffle. And with that, a content smile settles on his face.

He tucks his arm under your legs, swiftly lifting you.

Carefully, he places you on the cheap mattress that settled in the opposite corner of the cell. He gently pulls a blanket over your bare body.

He rests a delicate touch on your shoulder as he whispers "I'll be back tomorrow." he pats your hip before standing.

You hear as he open the cell door, closes and locks it behind him.

Bucky sits across from your apartment. He had given you a task. One you were usually really good at. Don’t touch yourself without his permission. The problem was he’d purposefully set you up to fail. The mission Steve had dragged him on had only been for three days, but he’d let you wait for seven days. Not a word from him, it had taken every hair of control for him not to kick the door down and take you exactly the way he wanted to. But the reward would be worth the wait. Currently, you were walking back and forth, wearing an oversized shirt, thumb against your lip. He knew you were on edge, had watched you squirm and rut against a pillow the last couple of nights. While he palmed himself through his pants, wishing he could just slip inside you.

The relationship you both had, if it could be called that, was unique to say the least. There were rules. Bucky liked things just a certain way. He never got a key, and you never changed the locks. Any footage from your room cameras was sent to him and then deleted. You fought back, but didn’t scream, you obeyed what he said, when he said, or he won’t let you come. Neither of you was to have sexual partners outside the relationship. The thought of someone else getting to touch you made his skin crawl. He barely tolerated other men speaking to you at your job. That was one of the very few rules he let you have: no killing customers.

One of the most important rules was that you never told anyone about him, ever. In turn, you both got to live out your darkest sexual desires as much as possible. It was intoxicating, addictive, and much more fun than Bucky could have imagined. He never thought he could have this, have someone who wanted to be used the way you did. It should have disgusted you, but you'd begged for it enough times for him to be convinced.

Now he finds himself here, half hard, sitting and waiting for you to snap under the pressure. To finally give in to temptation. You picked up your phone for the hundredth time today and scrolled through it. You won't text, another rule, specifically for when he was away. You toss it down and stomp over to the bedroom. You stood there staring at the bed, the bed where he’d eaten you out so good, you’d soaked the sheets. Where you let him take a knife and leave small marks over your body. He probably owed you a dozen new sheets. Bucky could see how torn you were. How much you want to give in.

“Come on, Sweets,” Bucky says out into the cool evening air. “Know how much you want to touch yourself.”

With frustration, you move over to the window and close the curtains. 

“Knew it,” Bucky chuckles, and packs things away quickly. 

He is down and across to your building in a few minutes, taking the stairs two at a time. No way he was waiting for the elevator, not when he knew he could outrun it. 

Sliding into the hallways, Bucky jogs over to your door. He leans forward and listens, slowing his heart and holding his breath. It was distant, but the wet sounds of your fingers were just heard over the hum of the building. 

Lock pick in hand, he has it open in moments, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. His footsteps are silent as he moves into the apartment. Your door is slightly ajar, and he can smell your arousal now. The sweet, floral, musky scent that makes his mouth water. Can hear how your breath hitches, the way you’re trying to get yourself there, even though he was the one who made you see stars. You'd bemoaned about how it wasn't the same if he didn't do it.

Standing in the doorway, he peers in. Your shirt is off, legs spread in a wanton fashion. Your face was flushed, brows pinched, lips parted. One day, he was going to take pictures of you, the way you were so raw, so consumed by pleasure. That was the thing about you, you were so unencumbered, so open with what you wanted and needed. And you gave it to him without a second thought.

Bucky's eyes flow down from your breasts that move with every bitten off breath. Down over your stomach that flexes as your fingers move, palm flat against your mound. Fingers sliding along your wet lips, body spreading open so he can see how your hole clenches around nothing. Watching as you drip down over your ass and onto the sheets. A whimper leaves as you stick a finger inside, your body gripping and pulling it deeper. It needs to be him, his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Pushing and spreading you open in a way only he can. 

Giving in, he finally pushes the door open. Your legs slam close, your eyes going wide as you take him. Breath catching in your throat as you try to form words.

“Bucky,” You hush out, trying to cover yourself somehow. Trying and failing to make it look somehow like you weren’t doing what you were doing. “I-ah-fuck.”

Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he starts to peel off his gloves. “You just couldn’t wait? Always so greedy, bet you were throbbing thinking of me. Hoping I’d show up, take care of that ache.”

You whimper, curling your legs up against your chest, “I couldn’t take it anymore. I-I-needed something, Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes, “I needed something, Buckyyy.” He mocks back at you as he starts to take off his jacket. “Just a wet hole, can’t stop yourself, need me to be inside you all the time. Isn’t that right?”

You're trembling slowly moving to the edge of the bed, “Yes. Nothing feels as good as you.”

“Undress me, then I’ll decide if you get to come tonight or not.” Bucky hisses, a smirk stretching across his lips as you trip over yourself to start undressing him. 

Even with shaky hands, your fingers undo each strap of his vest, dragging the zippers down. Carefully placing each piece on the floor. Then you are pulling his shirt up, making sure his arm doesn’t catch on the material. You don’t touch his skin, knowing better than to do that, making sure to stay looking at him as your hands find their way to his belt. 

“Simple rules, for a simple girl,” Bucky chuckles as you unbuckle him. “All I want is for you to wait for me. For you to listen. But you’re just too much of a whore. Have to touch yourself. Surprised you didn’t try to find someone to fill my spot.”

He can see how the words hit, your face crumpling in, you lived off praise and being used. Knowing you disappointed him upsets you, which just makes Bucky harder. Dropping to your knees, you unlace his boots and pull them off one at a time, even as the words bite into your skin. Fingers peeling off his socks, before you stop at the button of his jeans.

“What if I didn’t come back. Just left you to your own devices? Do you think you’d ever find anyone like me?” Bucky tips your face up so that you’re looking at him. “Answer me.” 

You're near tears, eyes wide and shining.“No, no, I could never. I could never find anyone like you.”

He squeezes your chin with a grin, “Good, now finish what you started.”

His pants hit the floor, and you carefully remove him from them. Then go to his boxers, you're looking up at him making sure that it’s okay before you pull them down. A small sigh leaves him as his cock bobs in front of him. Almost fully hard, and dripping a little. Bucky watches your tongue dart out, knowing you'd love to take him in your mouth. But not yet, this was for his pleasure, not yours.

“Get on the bed, all fours, face the headboard.” Bucky hisses, loving how quickly you respond to him. He looks at you, naked ass on full display, part of him wants to see if he could fit there. See if you’d really struggle; it would be new for both of you. Not tonight, no, he’d save that for another night. Right now, he needed to be inside that dripping pussy. 

You shiver as he crawls onto the bed, his hands running up and gripping your ass. He squeezes it hard enough that you whimper, but keep yourself firmly in place. He lets go and lifts his hand to bring it down with a loud smack. A gasp escapes your lips, he grins and does it again, your body trembles. Bucky wishes he could watch you as he did this, landing another blow on the other side with his metal hand. You can’t help how you're pushed down onto your elbows. He uses his metal hand and lands several more blows, your ass turning bright red with purple markings. A perfect outline of each finger, something you'd feel for days.

Bucky leans down and takes a bite. He can’t help himself; he just has to take a nibble, a taste of your sweet flesh. Your hand finds your mouth as you shove it against your face to muffle the scream. He sucks a little and then soothes it with his tongue for a moment. The urge to mark you everywhere makes his cock twitch. So he leans up and sinks his teeth into your lower back, having you writhing under him.

“I shouldn’t fuck you,” Bucky growls, sitting up, one hand covering his latest bite mark. He grabs his cock and rubs it over your wet folds. Slapping it against your trembling hole. “Should leave you right here, make you wait until tomorrow, or maybe another week. See just how pretty you’d beg me then.”

Another whimper leaves you, body vibrating; he can feel the way your hips move. Metal hand gripping your hip hard enough for you to still. Knowing that you're on the verge of collapsing with anticipation.

“But, I’ve also waited, and I can’t help myself,” Bucky pushes the tip of his cock into your wet hole and slides all the way in, in one movement. 

This time, you do scream, before whimpering as your head drops against the sheets. He can let it slide this time. Bucky takes a moment to savor just how fucking tight you are sucking him in, how you’re dripping around him, pussy squeezing and fluttering. 

“Fuck, it was worth the wait,” Bucky admits, as he pulls halfway out and then slams back in. He doesn’t let you adjust, doesn’t wait for you to be ready. “Going to come inside this fucking greedy cunt. Know how much you love having me dripping out of you. Then I am going to stretch this ass of yours, and fuck you there too. Always so needy, sucking up anything I give you, always wanting more. See how much you can take tonight.” 

“Please,” You get out, starting to fuck back against him. “I’ll take it, whatever you want.”

Buck can’t help the grin that stretches across his face. Pulling out, he flips you over so that he can grab your throat, metal hand clamping around it. Not enough to black you out, but enough to threaten it. You throb around him as he pushes back in, your mouth opens, brows scrunched together, as your tits bounce with each brutal thrust.

“Fuck, fit me like a glove. How can you be so tight when you let me fuck you like this?” He taunts, his palm pushing on your pubic mound. Knowing just how badly you want him to touch you clit. “Don’t you dare cum. You cum when I let you.”

You nod your head frantically, lips drawn into your mouth. He squeezes your throat a little, making you gasp. He can feel his release building, seeing you bent in half taking him like nothing. Looking down to see your pussy clenching around him, dragging him back in, squeezing him, begging him to cum inside you.

“My toy, my fucking toy,” Bucky growls, leaning down, to kiss you hard. Teeth crash against each other, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He grunts as he feels his orgasm crest, his hands pull your hips tight to his, as he plunges in and out a few more times. “All mine, only mine.”

“I am yours,” You gasp, as he spills deep inside you. 

“Good girl,” Bucky pants, as he sits back onto his calves, holding you tight and full against him. Letting his cock throb and twitch inside you. 

Your body collapsing against the bed, eyes locked on his. He watches as your finger carefully comes and touches where you're both joined. You wipe up the mixture of his and yours cum, before bringing it to your lips. 

Bucky feels himself twitch inside you as he watches you lick at your fingers. Already knowing there is more to come.

“Fuck, you're something else,” Bucky growls, leaning down to kiss you hard again. 

These two just.... ugh... they are always so fucked for the other

TAGLIST :

@iamthatonefangirl @flockoff-featherface @opheliabbarnes @unificsation @heldbybarnes

@firingstars @54nboo @winterdecember18 @houseofhyde @blowingbarnes

He’d hung it himself. Pressed it gently between your older ones. Threaded the sleeve just slightly through so it would catch your attention. Not too obvious, but enough to draw the eye. It had taken weeks to decide which one before buying it for you. The soft grey, heavy-weight cotton that he'd worn just a few times, just till held just a hint of his scent; not the sharp aftershave or cologne he sometimes used in public, but him. Clean sweat, pine soap, and warmth. Something to be a comfort.

You pulled it from the rack, stared at it a second too long. He watched you take stock of it, the way your fingers grazed up the fabric like it was something precious. Reverent. Like maybe you thought it had meaning. Like it was a gift. God, how he wanted you to touch him like that. The way you pressed your nose into the soft cotton, breathing in, and he almost moaned, biting hard into his lip to keep the sound in. It was too much. Too perfect.

His fingers clenched tight around the edge of the desk.

Then…you put it on.

The rush was instant. Heat bloomed under his skin, electricity racing up his spine. You liked it. You accepted it. You didn’t throw it aside. No furrowed brow, no confusion. Just that small, fragile moment where you tucked your hands into the sleeves and adjusted the fit at the hem. You shifted a little, rolling your shoulders as if to feel the weight of it settle against your skin. You looked down at yourself, at the fabric like it mattered, like it meant something- and maybe it did.

His hoodie. On you.

He exhaled hard, pressing the heel of his metal palm to his chest like he could steady his heart. But it wasn’t working. Every breath was shaky, tight. He was sweating now and didn’t even care.

Mine.

You didn’t know it yet. Not fully. But this was the first step. You’d worn something he gave you. You’d let him touch you without even knowing it. That meant something. That meant everything.

His mind raced. Ideas collided with feeling. Heat. Hope. Possession.

This was it, this was the shift he’d been waiting for. Now he could act. Now he could start appearing. Soft, casual. Organic. But real. Present. So you could finally see him the way he saw you.

He got up too quickly, pushing back the chair, breath already coming harder than it should. His hand raked through his hair, pacing from one side of the apartment to the other, trying to let the movement settle him. He needed to move, needed to bleed some of it off, because he was shaking and smiling like a fucking idiot and his hands wouldn’t stop twitching.

He had expected to feel something. Satisfaction, maybe. Relief. But this was overwhelming. His heart thumped like it wanted out of his chest, jittery and frantic and warm. It felt almost as good as that time you’d smiled at him in the grocery store. That tiny, perfect moment he kept replaying in his head like a sacred reel. But this was even better. More intimate. Closer.

"Okay, okay… next step. Next step is…"

He had to talk to you. Really talk to you. Hear your voice directed at him. Watch you look up and meet his eyes, those eyes of yours that made him feel real. That made him feel seen. He just had to find the right moment, the right way. It was happening. He could feel it. The shift. The pull.

You’d worn him.

You chose him.

Café? Maybe the one near the bookstore. You liked their lemon muffins. He could time it. Pay for your coffee ahead of you, one of those cute pay-it-forward things. Flash a smile, offer to sit. No- too forward. You’d say no. You had a husband.

Laundromat. That was better. Neutral ground. He could drop his laundry bag too close to yours. Let it spill. Ask for help. But- no, shit, that made him look incompetent. Like a man-child. Like someone who couldn’t look after himself, let alone you.

What about the bookstore? You still went Sundays. If he happened to pick up something you loved, maybe even reach for the same book -no. No, that wouldn’t be enough and he’d just given you that book, the one you took from the laundromat. You wouldn’t even be going to the book store any time soon.

The park crossed his mind. People met in parks, didn’t they? Strangers sat near each other, shared paths. It wouldn’t be weird. He could bring a book. Sit on a bench close to where you usually walked. Maybe even offer to share crumbs with the birds or ask the time? That was normal. That was casual.

Maybe he should asked Steve or Sam, they had ideas about these things.. about how to be a person. 

But then he groaned. No- fuck, no. He couldn’t do that either. Not now. Not when he’d already dropped hints to both of them about seeing someone. About you. About how you were special, how he’d made plans to see you, soft lies layered over dirtier truths. He’d let too much slip, gotten too dreamy around the edges when they asked about how his weekend had been, or if he was finally going to let someone in. He couldn’t backtrack now. Couldn’t ask Steve how to casually bump into you at a park or a store without sounding like a lunatic. Couldn’t ask Sam for advice on what kind of line to use that wasn’t creepy.

They’d know. They’d know.

Steve would give him that look. The tight-lipped, disappointed one that made him feel twelve years old again. Sam would ask too many fucking questions. And worse- Sam would joke, would poke, and it would be too much. This wasn’t something he could share. Not yet. Not when it wasn’t real. Not when it was still just yours and his, even if only he knew it.

He was on his own with this. And it had to be perfect. Not rushed. Not messy. You deserved more than that.

"I just want to talk to her, why is it so hard to just find the right moment to talk to her!"

He muttered, sharp and frustrated, dragging a hand through his hair again as he put his notebook down, the page he'd been scribbling on smudged by the heat of his palm. A half-formed sentence bled into the margin. His jaw clenched tight. There had to be a way. There had to be a right way.

He’d been pacing for most of the day.

Thinking. Overthinking. Every plan, every possible approach, every excuse to see you again that wouldn’t come off too eager, too calculated. The list in his head had grown longer and more desperate with each hour- until finally, just to soothe the ache in his chest, he sat back down and clicked open the feed.

He glanced at the screen.

And froze.

You were in the kitchen. Still in the hoodie tucked around yourself like armour. But you weren’t just moving. You were prepping. Dinner. You were moving with intention, like you were trying.

But something was off. Something in your posture, your mouth. The way you held the spoon like it weighed too much. Before you disappeared into the lower cupboards, rummaging with a strange sort of purpose. He leaned closer to the screen.

Candles?

He blinked. "What..?"

You pulled out the jarred ones you only used on anniversaries. Arranged them absently on the bench. His stomach twisted.

What were you doing?

That’s when it clicked.

You were fussing with the meal too much, checking the oven, adjusting things that didn’t need adjusting. Stirring the sauce like it had personally offended you.

His heart stuttered.

It hit him all at once. A punch to the ribs. When you petted the shirt again and looked at the clock on the wall. 

You thought he gave it to you. Not Bucky. Him. That miserable prick you lived with.

“No,” Bucky whispered, standing too fast, chair legs scraping loudly behind him. “No, no, no…”

He stared at the screen, lips parted, heart hammering. Rage lit his veins like fire. That bastard got your trust? He got the small bloom of hope that Bucky had so carefully planted?

He slammed his metal hand down on the desk. leaving a dent. 

But Bucky didn’t flinch.

His breath came in hard, hot bursts. He stared at the screen, frozen in place. His hands curled into fists.

You adjusted the pot on the stove. Wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. Still in the hoodie.

Still thinking it came from someone who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.

Bucky’s face twisted. His voice came out low, raw, as he growled at the screen. “It was me, not him. I thought of you. I care about you. Not that deadbeat. Not the man who ignores you. Not the one you keep trying for.”

He paced once, then slammed both palms down on the desk, bending forward over the screen like he could force the truth through it. “I’m the one who sees you. I’m the one who knows what you need. Not him. Not that son of a bitch who bites your head off every time you do something he doesn’t approve of!”

His breath caught, voice trembling. “He doesn’t even care. He doesn’t see you. Doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t know what you sound like when you’re happy, when you laugh at those dumb shows. He wouldn’t think to leave you something like this, something soft. Something that might make you feel... worth it.”

He shook his head hard, like he could knock the fury out of himself. “It was me. It was supposed to be from me.” He knew you didn't know that, but it didn't make it hurt any less. 

His voice cracked. “You’re gonna thank him, aren’t you? Gonna smile at him. Tell him it was sweet. Tell him it meant something.”

And then the realization hit him like a hammer to the chest.

What was Nic going to say when he saw you in the hoodie?

What was he going to do?

The blood drained from Bucky’s face. He gripped the edge of the table again, knuckles white.

He’d put you in the line of fire. He’d given you something that might make Nic snap.

"No. No, no, no... fuck!"

He turned on his heel, already moving.

The go bag was already half-packed.

It always was. Just in case. Not because he was paranoid- but because some things were inevitable. Bucky didn’t believe in luck anymore. Just preparation.

He yanked it out from the hall closet. Dropped it on the bed with a thud that echoed back at him like a warning.

One hand moved fast, automatic. The other more deliberate, grabbing what he might need if Nic did something unforgivable. If things escalated before Bucky could reach you.

Gloves. Zip ties. Taser. Duct tape. Med kit. Burner phone. Backup charger. a change of clothes, encase, either for you or himself if it came to it. 

Comfort. Protection. He would give you both. Even if you didn’t understand yet.

Bucky reached then for the smaller zipped cased the one that held something he knew he wasn’t supposed to have.

The ketamine.

He paused with the vial in his hand. Turned it over once. Twice. It looked too small to carry this much weight. His thumb brushed the label, the edges of the seal.

A failsafe. A way to end the threat cleanly.

His jaw clenched.

“You don’t get to touch her for my mistakes,” he muttered, fingers curling tighter around the vial. “You don’t get to break her because I wanted her to feel wanted…”

The guilt was sharp. His throat tight.

He tucked the vial into a side pocket and zipped the bag shut, every motion stiff, mechanical. Like if he stopped to feel for even a second, he’d come undone.

He grabbed his knife. His keys. His gloves. Put on his cap. Slid everything into their designated places like a soldier locking in for war.

Then he looked one last time at the camera feed.

Your back was to the window. Still at the stove. Still in the hoodie.

Still unaware.

Bucky looked at his watch. His pulse skipped.

He was running out of time.

No more hesitating. No more second-guessing. You were his to protect, even if you didn’t know it yet.

He was out the door before the footage had a chance to refresh.

Scene 5: The Fight

Bucky jumped the back fence just as Nic’s car swung into the drive, headlights cutting across the far side of the house like blades. The sudden light washed over the kitchen curtains and flashed against the shed.

“Shit…” Bucky hissed under his breath, dropping low into the shadow of the shed.

He pressed his back to the wooden boards, heart hammering as he peered through a gap. He could see you moving inside. You were still stirring something on the stove, glancing over your shoulder like you were trying to time it all just right. His hoodie clung to you, soft and loose around your body.

He held his breath as Nic entered the kitchen from the front of the house.

He couldn’t hear every word at first, but the tone was enough. Sharp. Cold. Accusatory. It was the way Nic always spoke when he wanted to punish you without raising his hand.

Bucky inched closer, moving to hide near the tree. The kitchen light haloed your hair like a spotlight on a stage you hadn’t agreed to stand on. You were standing there, explaining, pleading. Nic’s voice rose, a bark of laughter, then venom. Bucky’s stomach twisted as he caught pieces of it, accusations, mockery, disbelief.

He watched the entire argument unfold in real time, like a slow car crash he couldn’t stop.  You didn’t just stand there this time. You pushed back, voice low but firm, eyes shining with unshed tears and fury. You were trying. Fighting. Even if it was small, even if it wouldn’t change Nic’s mind, Bucky saw it. Felt it.

A twisted sort of pride bloomed in his chest.

You were still in there. Still had that spark.

Your own hurt expression cut into him deeper than he expected. A growl formed in his throat, guttural and raw. His fists clenched into the dirt, every muscle wound tight.

Nic didn’t deserve to see that side of you. Didn’t deserve to break it down.

But then you stopped, Bucky watched confusion turn into real hurt. He saw your shoulders stiffen, saw you freeze at the insult, Nic’s final jab. You stood there, absorbing it. Like you thought you deserved it.

Every muscle in Bucky’s body tensed. His fingers clawed at the bark next to him. He was shaking with the effort not to break through the door. His jaw ached from how tightly he held it shut. His breathing came sharp, shallow. If he moved too soon, if he made it worse, if he scared you instead of helping you.

The door slammed. Nic stomped out, muttering. Got into his car. Engine growled. Headlights swept back across the yard as he reversed out. Gone.

Bucky straightened halfway, eyes still locked on you through the glass. He was about to go after your aggressor, stop him, end it, when he saw you move. Saw the way you bent at the waist, hands gripping your head, breaking apart silently as the taillights disappeared.

He stayed outside, chest heaving, heart hammering as he watched you unravel.

This was his fault. He did this.

He watched you pull out the wine, his brows pinching at how quickly you poured. He crouched lower, getting under the kitchen window, listening as you yelled and screamed and raged at the empty room before moving deeper into the house, away from where he could hear.

He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the feed. The little screen showed you moving into the bedroom. Pulling things from drawers. Packing.

His heart lurched.

“No. No. Fuck." 

Any plan he had now, coffee shop, park walk.. all of it didn't matter now. 

Bucky Barnes needed to do something and now. 

While you were in the bedroom Bucky entered through the back. Nic hadn’t locked the door after leaving and you were too upset to think of it.

Everything was familiar now. The smell of the kitchen.  The meal you'd worked so hard on discarded. The faint hum of the fridge.

His eyes landed on the open bottle of wine. Regret punched through his ribs.

“I wanted to do this right.…” he whispered, voice low, an apology you couldn't hear. 

His hand moved automatically to his jacket, fingers brushing against the small, hidden pocket. Buvky pulled out the little vial, the one he’d kept close for months without ever really thinking he'd use it on you. Not like this.

He cast one look toward the stairs, heart thudding.

You were still up there, Bucky could hear the muffled thud of drawers, the movement of fabric. Still wilding around, still packing. Still trying to escape.

“I didn’t want it to happen this way,” he murmured, thumb rolling the vial between his fingers. “But I can’t lose you. I can’t have you go somewhere I can’t follow. Not when you're this close. Not when I can help you.”

He poured the dose with gentle hands. Precise. Not too much. Not enough to hurt you- just enough to keep you from running. Just enough to keep you safe.

He capped the bottle, set it back exactly as it had been.

Then he slid into the dark corner of your little ‘office,’ the place you always retreated to, heart in his throat. Listening as the slamming of drawers stopped. That wasn’t good. That was the sound of someone reaching the edge.

He pulled out his phone from his hiding place, the tiny screen showing you sit on the bed, slumped over. He knew that posture. He’d seen it in shelters, in barracks, in himself.

That was hopelessness.

You came back to the kitchen slower than before. Hollowed out. Silent. The fight had taken everything from you, scraped you clean inside and left only ash. Your arms hung heavy at your sides, the hoodie still draped over you like a shield you didn’t know had been meant for comfort. Still unaware of the hands that had chosen it.

Bucky watched from the dark, his heart stuttering with every step you took. You moved like your soul had been carved out. And when you reached for the glass again, his own breathing stopped. 

Bucky saw the way you clutched it, like it might anchor you. Like it might undo the ache.

You downed half the contents before pouring more.

The wine didn’t soothe you- it never really did. He could see it on your face. The twist of your lips, the bitterness at the back of your throat. But you drank anyway.

Then you moved into the living room.

Bucky almost gave himself away when you paused, startled by a noise outside. He froze, breath caught, hidden by the shadows as you stared out into the dark for a moment too long. His fingers twitched against his knees; he had to curl them into fists to stop himself from moving. God, how he wanted to cross the room, wipe the lingering wetness from your cheeks, wrap himself around you so you never had to feel like this again. He wanted you smiling, wanted that soft expression that belonged only to him. You just... folded. Dropped yourself onto the couch like your bones no longer knew how to hold you, and his throat tightened at the sight.

It would take about thirty minutes. Bucky just had to wait it out, though each moment set him more on edge. 

You sat there, blank, staring into the void of the dark room while the wine glass dangled precariously from your fingers. He didn't want to leave, but you'd need things. Bucky slipped up the stairs silently, retrieving the half-packed bag from your bedroom. His grip was gentle, his movements practiced, but his chest tightened when he looked inside. It was barely filled. Just a change of clothes. A charger. A few small items you’d grabbed in a haze of anger and pain before you'd run out of steam.

He crouched by the drawers, pulling them open quietly, taking care not to let them creak. From the third one; your intimates, socks, he added more. You’d want these. Need them. He could get you other things later. Better ones. Softer fabrics. Things picked out together, like real people did. Like couples did. Like he’d always dreamed of doing with you.

He grabbed your phone charger from the bedside, your toothbrush from the bathroom, your lip balm from the edge of the sink. All those small, intimate touches of your life. The things people took when they left. The things you’d miss.

Coming back downstairs, he paused. He could hear the soft, broken sniffles from the living room. They hit him square in the chest.

Still moving with the silence of a cat, he went to your little office. He crouched, collected the notebooks, the folder of papers for your course, the flash drive from your desk drawer. You wouldn't leave without these. He knew that. You’d worked too hard, even when you doubted yourself.

The dark didn’t matter, his eyesight was sharp, trained. He closed your laptop softly and slid it into its sleeve. He hadn't expected the next noise that reached him.

A whimper. Then another. Your crying had picked up again.

And suddenly, all of it, the bag, the prep, the planning, it became unbearable. Because you were still hurting. Right there. And he had to be the one to end it.

"M'such an id'ot.." your slurred voice come in from the other room as Bucky finished putting your bag near the office door as he moved towards the living room again. "S'my fault, I jus' keep... wha's wrong with me?" 

"It’s not," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice was soft, caught somewhere between a whisper and a plea.

Your head whipped around, confused. "What? Nic? Who- "

But the sudden motion made your balance slip. Even just sitting on the couch, your body tilted sharply, coordination lost.

Bucky surged forward without thought, catching the wine glass just before it tipped from your hand and shattered. He placed it carefully on the coffee table, his movements deliberate and calming.

You tried to push yourself up. Your limbs trembled, sluggish and heavy. "Wha’s goin’ on... wh-who- "

"Shh, shh... it’s okay," he murmured, crouching in front of you like he would to soothe a frightened animal. His gloved hand reached out, slow and steady, cupping your cheek with such reverence it nearly undid him. "Gonna be so much better now."

You blinked hard, eyes unfocused. 

He leaned in, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. His voice dropped to a vow. "We’re going somewhere better for you. I promise."

Then, with practiced ease, he lifted you into his arms.

His arms wrapped around your body. He cradled you close, whispering comforts you couldn’t fully hear.

"I’ve got you now. It’s going to be okay." 

You made a sad, broken little noise and tried to move in his hold, but it came out weak and slow. Instinct without energy.

And he held you tighter.

Finally, finally, you were his to hold.

tags:

That was because you never would’ve guessed your charming, handsome, earnest neighbor was also your stalker. You never would’ve guessed that Bucky was monitoring your comings and goings and figuring out your schedule so he could purposefully run into you. 

In a million years, you never would’ve guessed that Bucky was using the spare key you’d given him to watch your plants while you were away to slip into your apartment when you were at work and steal your dirty panties. You had no idea he’d use that same key to let himself into your place and lay in wait for you to get home one night…

“You look good like this.”

Bucky Barnes was grinning shamelessly as he said those words, a dark glint in his icy blue eyes. His gaze was hungry, almost starved, as it raked over your prone, naked form.

He’d surprised you in the dark of your apartment, lunging out of a shadowy corner when you’d entered your pitch-black bedroom, coming home late from work on the same night of the week you always did. If you’d had the presence of mind, you might’ve cursed yourself for maintaining such a consistent schedule.

Bucky was strong—stronger than you expected—and you were no match for the way his thick arms banded around your body. He’d quickly clapped a hand over your mouth, preventing you from screaming for help. You’d fought, squirming and kicking in his arms, but it had done nothing except tire you out.

Before he’d started the process of undressing you and tying you up, Bucky had shoved a pair of panties in your mouth. You were so distracted by the way Bucky was tearing through your clothes that it took a while for you to realize the fabric in your mouth was soiled with more than your own natural fluids.

There was a salty, unfamiliar musk that seeped into your tongue. When you realized what you were tasting, and what it meant—that Bucky had jerked off into your dirty panties and you were tasting his cum—you went silent, too stunned to fight back anymore.

Warmth curled low in your belly, a pulse of desire throbbing between your thighs, even as your mind reeled. You refused to admit, even to yourself, that you liked the taste of Bucky’s cum. You refused to get off to the idea of Bucky wanting you so badly, he’d used your panties to bring himself pleasure.    

With your limbs pliant and your mind distracted by fighting against your body’s responses to Bucky’s taste, your neighbor was able to move you how he wanted to. By the time he’d flicked on the light on your bedside table and climbed onto your bed to join you, you were thoroughly tied down. 

Your body was bare, your wrists bound in thick cuffs and laying on the pillows above your head, the chain attached to your headboard. Meanwhile, your legs were spread as wide as they could go, your ankles secured with similarly thick cuffs, holding you open, putting you entirely on display for the hungry eyes of your neighbor, your stalker.

For the final touch, Bucky yanked the panties from your mouth, tossing them down to the foot of the bed, forgotten. He sat back on his haunches, his eyes raking greedily over every inch of your exposed skin while he kneeled between your spread thighs. 

You tried to struggle, to see if there was any give in the restraints Bucky had strapped you down in, but there was nothing you could do. You were entirely at his mercy…

Your pussy gave an eager pulse at the thought, and you immediately ignored your body’s response, glaring up at the man you thought you could trust.

“Fuck you.”

You hissed the words with as much venom as you could muster, your body trembling with rage—and something else you didn’t want to name. 

A wicked smile spread slowly across Bucky’s handsome face, and his blue eyes sparkled brighter. They were lit with a look that promised dark and depraved things were in store for you. 

Interest pulsed in your core and you could feel the first signs of gathering desire trickle down to your slit, but your glare never wavered.

“Aw don’t be like that, doll,” Bucky chastised you lightly, smoothing his palm down your inner thigh, as if trying to soothe you. A shudder wracked through your body with what you told yourself was disgust. “You’re going to enjoy this—I’ll make sure of it.”

“Never—I’ll never enjoy anything you do to me,” you hissed, refusing to acknowledge the way your body was warming to his touch. “You’re sick, you’re depraved, you’re a filthy pervert!”

Bucky groaned, his eyes sliding closed and his free hand gripping the thick, twitching bulge in his pants. “Fuck, doll, keep talking—you’re making me so fucking hard right now.”

Despite your better judgement, your eyes dropped to his lap and you felt a thrum of arousal flutter through your core when you saw how big and hard he was. He looked like he could fill you up real good and, if he knew how to use it, give you the type of hard fucking you craved.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, sweet girl?” Bucky cooed, his voice taunting as he stroked himself through his pants. “You like the sight of my fat cock all thick and rock hard for you, huh? Bet it makes your pretty pussy leak for me—bet this slutty hole wants me to fill ‘er up,” he said, his thumb skimming close to where you craved his touch.

Biting back a wanton mewl, you glared up at Bucky from your prone position on the bed. Through sheer determination, you managed to keep the desire out of your expression and ignored the way wetness gathered and began dripping from your slit.

“It doesn’t make me leak for you,” you spit out through gritted teeth, seething with fury. Anger and shame burned through your blood, knowing you weren’t telling the truth, but you remained spitefully resolute not to give you stalker what he wanted. 

A low, filthy chuckle rumbled in Bucky’s chest, spilling from his perfect pink mouth and washing over your body in pure pleasure. The sound was so patronizing, your inner muscles clenched pathetically around nothing and you had to stifle another pitiful whimper. 

“I can see that you’re lying, doll,” Bucky said, his hand skimming further down your thigh until his thumb brushed against your lower lips. You sucked in a sharp breath, and tried to shift away from his touch, but you were tied down too well.

Oh so gently, Bucky ran the pad of his thumb up and down your slit, dipping just a tiny bit between your folds. The touch was so teasing, a whine worked its way up your throat, but you managed to bite it back at the last second. 

Then, he held up his thumb so that you could see it glisten in the soft, golden lamplight of your room. It was clear as day that what you’d said about not leaking for him was a lie—you were wet for him. The evidence was right in front of you. You were wet for your stalker.

“You can tell me you don’t want this, that you could never enjoy the touch of a filthy pervert,” Bucky began, playing with the wetness on his fingers before dropping his hand back to your mound and gathering even more of your juices. “But you’re a damn, dirty liar, doll. And by the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna know that we’re perfect for each other.”

Rage, shame and desire bubbled in your throat, making it difficult to speak, but you managed to spit out, “Never.” 

Before you could get the rest of your words out, though, they died on your tongue. They were lost to the sight of Bucky popping his thumb into his mouth, his eyes sliding closed with sinful satisfaction as he licked the taste of you from his skin.

You felt your traitorous slit drip a little more as you watched the far too erotic sight of your stalker tasting you for the first time. 

Bucky groaned, low in his throat, and your pussy trembled, begging for more of his touch. Something inside you cracked, and suddenly you couldn’t do it anymore—you couldn’t ignore the way desire was rushing through your blood. Your need was an insistent throb, hot and heavy, between your spread thighs. 

A whimper slipped from your lips unbidden and Bucky’s eyes flew open. Pulling his thumb from his mouth with a soft popping sound, he pinned you to the bed with his gaze just as surely as he’d used cuffs and chains to tie you down. 

His eyes were dark, and promised untold pleasure, but you were sure that if you gave in, it would mean selling your soul to the devil.

Your desires were a tangled mess behind your ribs, your need for Bucky warring with your determination not to give in. He was your stalker. He was your downfall, not your salvation. You had to stay strong, now matter how much you wanted to succumb to him.

Bucky watched the conflicting thoughts and emotions flicker across your face, reading you like a book, and a slow smile spread across his face. He shifted closer to you on the bed, until your thighs were propped up on his, the lap of his pants close enough to your core that you clenched with need. 

“Here’s how this is going to go, sweet girl,” Bucky started, so much confidence and authority in his voice that it settled something inside you. And when his hand skimmed down your thigh in a soothing gesture, your muscles relaxed slightly. “I’m going to ruin you.”

A gasp caught in your throat and Bucky paused, as if waiting for you to protest. When you didn’t immediately speak up, his grin widened and he squeezed your thigh in encouragement before going on.

“I’m going to ruin you so good, you’ll never want anyone but me, and you’re going to thank me for it,” Bucky rumbled, his gaze fixed on yours. “You’re going to promise you’ll be mine from this day forward. Forever. Do you understand me?”

You were already shaking your head before Bucky had even finished speaking, a challenge on the tip of your tongue. It was too much, he asked for too much. But…

A part of you yearned for what he promised. Your heart pounded hard in your chest because deep down, you wanted someone to own you in the way Bucky promised. 

Your neighbor might be more than a little unhinged, but it was intoxicating to have his devotion laid bare at your feet. 

The words you’d thought to voice turned to ash on your tongue, and Bucky’s grin hitched higher on his handsome face, turning almost feral. 

Leaning forward in a flash of movement, his hand wrapped around your throat, fingers digging into the sides of your neck just enough for your breath to catch in your throat. 

His blue eyes were sparkling with depraved desire as they raked over your face. 

“Do I need to gag you again, doll?” he asked darkly, the promise of a threat in his tone. “Or are you going to be a good girl for me and let me destroy that stubborn resolve of yours so we can be together?”

A not-so-small part of you wanted him to put the soiled panties back in your mouth as a gag, just so you could get another taste of him. That shocked you so much, and you were so tired of fighting, that when your lips parted to give Bucky your answer, what came out was a meek, “I’ll be good.”

The change in Bucky’s expression in response to your words was instantaneous, like the sun breaking through the clouds, and you were reminded all over again of just how devastatingly handsome your neighbor was. 

His gorgeous blue eyes softened with something like sweet affection as he stared at you, a smile tugging on the edges of his perfect, pink lips. His mouth was framed by dark scruff, which gave him just enough of a rugged look to offset the beauty of his face.

The way Bucky looked at you then, like you’d given him the most precious gift, damn near stole all the breath from your lungs. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, ducking down and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You sucked in a surprised breath, the potent scent of his cologne going straight to your head, and felt his smile against your cheek. 

Then, he kissed you properly.

You were shocked by how gentle Bucky was. After he’d captured you in the dark, tied you up, and talked about ruining you, his kiss was astonishingly soft, his lips exploring you and coaxing you to kiss him back. His tongue slid tenderly along your lower lip, seeking entrance, and it was all too easy to give in.

You let yourself get swept away in the sweetness of Bucky’s kiss, the tang of your desire on his tongue adding an indescribable filthiness that offset the softness of his lips. Slowly, you opened up beneath him, the walls around your heart beginning to crumble as lust rushed in.

When Bucky finally pulled away, you lay there stunned, your lips parted and swollen from the rasp of his stubble. You blinked slowly, trying to reorient yourself. 

Your eyes were a little unfocused, and the sight of your stalker looming over you was softened around the edges. If it weren’t for the fervent glint in his eyes, he might’ve looked sweet.

“That’s a good doll,” Bucky cooed, ducking down to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

He trailed more kisses down to your heaving chest, pressing his mouth firmly over the spot where your heart was racing beneath your sternum. He looked up, catching your eye and grinning at you while his hand cupped one of your tits, his thumb brushing teasingly over your hardened nipple.

“All ya gotta do is lay there and let me play with you,” he murmured, pinching your nipple and wringing a little cry from your lips that had his grin widening. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he said, almost as if to himself. 

Bucky’s gaze was greedy as it raked over your bare chest, flicking between your tits and your face, watching your reactions as he teased your nipples and groped your soft flesh. 

You were so distracted by the bolts of pleasure thrumming through your body, you almost missed the contemplative look on his face. But his next words brought you back to the moment.

“Now, where should my first mark go?”

The word ‘mark’ finally snapped you from the daze you’d fallen into, and all your muscles tensed again. Your eyes sharpened and stared at the looming form of your neighbor as he hunched over your body, his eyes roaming your skin as if he was looking for something. 

“Ma-mark?” The word came out in a breathless whisper, but instead of fear tinging your tone, there was only an eager interest that surprised you.

Bucky looked up, meeting your gaze, his mouth curving into a shameless grin that had a note of pride in it. “That wasn’t an immediate protest—have you decided not to fight me anymore, doll?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You didn’t want to answer that question, because you hadn’t decided anything yet. At least, you didn’t think you had. So you just watched him, your lips pressed into a thin line.

But Bucky didn’t seem deterred by your lack of answer. If anything, he seemed to take it as if you agreed you weren’t going to fight him anymore, and he let his gaze drift back to his perusal of your chest. 

“I”m gonna mark up your pretty body, sweet girl,” Bucky explained, flashing a grin when you let out a helpless whimper. “Gonna take my time leaving hickeys all over your body—they’re gonna remind you that you belong to me now.” 

You squirmed, your hips writhing on the bed and your arms and legs pulling on the cuffs restraining you. At first, you assumed your body’s reaction was disgust, that you were trying to get away from Bucky, but your pussy pulsed with need, and you realized you liked the idea of Bucky marking you up.

In your chest, your heart was pounding against your ribs, and what you felt wasn’t horror or distate, it was excitement. 

Bucky watched your face closely, his blue eyes sparkling with sinful perception, and he lowered his mouth to the top of one of your tits. Your stalker held your gaze as his lips latched onto your soft flesh, sucking and working your skin with his mouth and teeth.

Warm throbs of pleasure curled low in your belly with every pull of his mouth, and it took every ounce of strength in your body to keep your lips pressed closed. You didn’t want him to see any of the pleasure you were feeling from his sweet torture. 

But that seemed to only spur him on. He doubled his efforts, sucking a hickey into your skin until, when he pulled away, there was a dark shadow of a bruise on the swell of your brest. Your jaw dropped, your slit throbbed, and when your gaze slid to Bucky’s, his grin was unrepentant.

“Don’t give me that look, doll,” he scolded lightly, pressing a kiss to the newly formed bruise. “You’re mine—forever—and you’re going to understand that. Even if I have to mark up every inch of this gorgeous body.” 

His hands skimmed up your sides, stroking over your soft skin before cupping your tits in his big palms. He buried his face in them for a moment, groaning with barely contained lust before looking up and catching your eye. 

“I promised to ruin you, sweet girl, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

And Bucky Barnes was a man of his word. 

He took you apart piece by piece, breaking you down and stripping you even more bare than you already were with his mouth and his teeth and his tongue. He sucked marks into your skin until they littered your chest like stars in the night sky. 

It wasn’t until he finally made his way down to your soft belly that something inside you broke, and you let out a low, lewd moan. Your head was swimming in pleasure and desire, and you finally gave up all pretense that you didn’t want this man. This man who was your stalker.

“That’s it, sweet girl, that’s a good doll, moan for me,” Bucky rumbled before sucking another mark into your hip. “Let me hear how much you’re enjoying my mouth on you, how much you’re enjoying me marking you.” He sank his teeth into your hip bone, making you cry out and pull on the restraints.

Your entire body was trembling from need and desire, your chest heaving with panting breaths, your mind dizzy with pleasure and weakened resolve. By the time Bucky’s mouth made it to your pussy, you were a pitiful mess, desperate for him to lick you or fuck your or do anything to sate the hunger in your core.

He pressed the flat of his tongue to the seam of your cunt and dragged it up your soft folds, groaning when he tasted you straight from the source. A shiver raced down your spine at the deep, pleasured sound muffled against your damp skin.

You couldn’t help but watch with wonder in your gaze as he nuzzled his stubbled jaw into your warm, slick, swollen folds. His eyes were burning with blue fire when they flicked up to meet yours, a depraved, feral grin curving his sinful mouth.

“You’re fucking drenched for me, doll,” he teased lightly, sweeping his tongue along your slit again, making your whole body shudder with pleasure when he grazed your clit ever so lightly. “So wet I bet I could slide into your velvet-soft cunt in one smooth stroke, huh?”

In the farthest reaches of your mind, you were screaming to scoff at him, to not give in, but that voice was getting quieter and quieter the longer Bucky’s mouth was on you. As it was, all you could manage in response to his question was a helpless whine, your hips wiggling restlessly as you tried to grind against his face.

Bucky chuckled, like you were the cutest thing in the world, and his gaze dropped back to your pussy before he spoke again.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’m gonna fill this hole soon enough,” he promised, rubbing your wetness into your skin, making a mess of your soft, swollen folds as he teased your entrance and clit with his fingertips. “All your holes are mine now, and I’ll make sure none of them ever feel neglected.” 

With that promise hanging in the air, Bucky dove into your cunt face first and all you could do was whimper—both from his words and the way he devoured you with his mouth. He feasted on you with the patience of a man who knew you weren’t going anywhere.

He licked and sucked on your folds, occasionally deigning to pay attention to your clit and give it the love you needed to rocket toward your release. Before you could get there, he’d pull back, easing you away from the edge. 

Then he’d slip his long, thick fingers into your pussy and work your body until you were panting and moaning and writhing beneath him on the bed.

But Bucky never let you cum. Every time you got close, your pussy fluttering around his fingers, your sounds of pleasure ratcheting higher, he’d ease you back down. 

It got to the point where that voice of protest in your mind was entirely silenced and you’d accepted you were completely at the mercy of your stalker—and you desperately wanted him to give you what you needed.

“Bucky, please!” you snarled, after the third or fourth time he’d edged you, your voice anything but nice as you yanked impatiently on the cuffs binding your wrists. Your headboard knocked against the wall, but you paid it little mind, too focused on glaring at the man between your thighs.

After a long, torturous moment, Bucky lifted his head slowly, giving you an insolent, heavy-lidded look that went straight to your pussy, your slit throbbing as more wetness leaked down to your ass. 

His gaze was unfocused until he blinked, staring up at you almost like he was annoyed at you for interrupting his fun.

“Need something, doll?” he drawled, his fingers pumping leisurely in and out of your hole, making soft, obscene sounds because you were so wet. 

“You know what I need, you sick, perverted jerk,” you hissed, your face contorting into what you hoped was a glare, but suspected was a needy look. Frustration was pulsing angrily through your body, craving release, and it was making you desperate.

Bucky watched you, like he was trying to figure you out, but then his mouth curved into a wolfish grin.

“Oh I see what you’re doing, doll,” he said, sounding like he was in on the joke. “You’re calling me those names to make me hard so I’ll fuck you, huh?” 

He waited for your response, but you kept your mouth firmly closed, refusing to give him the pleasure of acknowledging he’d seen right through you. His grin widened.

“All ya had to do was ask, sweet girl—I live to serve you.” Bucky pressed one last kiss to your pussy and then he was sitting up.

He made quick work of yanking his shirt off, then undoing his jeans and shoving them down around his thighs. When his thick cock bounced free, smacking wetly against your pussy, your head tipped back and you bit off a strangled, desperate moan.

Bucky rocked his hips forward and back, dragging the heavy weight of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your clit and drenching himself in your juices. He grunted, using his thumbs to press his shaft deeper between your swollen lower lips, his gaze fixed on the sight. 

“Y’know, I’ve dreamed about this for months. Laying in bed, stroking my cock to thoughts of you,” he said, his tone casual, almost conversational, but there was a hitch of excitement in his voice—and it made you feel powerful to know you had such an effect on him. “I’m sure you’re feeling real needy, doll, but I still think I want this more.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to protest, to argue with Bucky that there was no way he wanted to fuck you more than you wanted him to fuck you, but you bit it back at the last second, realizing how it would sound. He was your stalker, you reminded yourself, still trying to pretend you didn’t want him.

Bucky seemed to sense your inner battle because he fisted his cock and smacked the heavy length against your pussy. At the same moment, his other hand slid around your throat, fingers squeezing gently until your eyes found his and you stared up into his sinful, sparkling blue gaze.

“You’re mine,” he reminded you, and his words holding a surprising amount of comfort, settling the protests brewing in your mind. “You belong to me, now and forever—and you’re going to take my cock like a good girl, isn’t that right, doll?” 

Your chin dipped, brushing against the back of his hand as you nodded, watching a sweet sense of satisfaction bloom in Bucky’s eyes. He gave your throat a squeeze of encouragement, and you could feel the praise in his fingertips as he ducked down for a quick kiss. 

Then he sat back up, pinning you to the bed with his hand around your throat, and his cock against your pussy. He took a moment to rake his eyes over your prone form, appreciating the sight you presented to him with your limbs strapped down to the bed, your legs spread open for him.

“Oh, this is so much better than I always imagined,” he said in a soft murmur, almost to himself. The naked affection in his tone warmed your heart, and you had the urge to thank him, but before you could respond, the moment was over and he was moving.

Bucky notched the tip of his cock at your entrance and he pushed inside. Even with how wet you were, it was a stretch to take him. Your mouth formed a little ‘o’ as he slid inside, his cock filling you up until you were so full of him, you didn’t know where you ended and he began.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, you’re taking me so fucking well, doll,” Bucky rasped, his voice devolving into a groan of pleasure when he finally buried himself to the hilt. “Oh fuck, that’s good.” 

His head hung down, and he swayed a little above you, like he was overcome by the sensation of your pussy wrapped around his cock. Truthfully, you felt a little dazed yourself. You couldn’t believe how good it felt, how perfectly he fit inside you, stretching you enough to feel it but not hurt you. 

Fuck, it was so good. Your stalker’s cock felt so, so good inside you that you didn’t want him to ever not be buried balls-deep in your pussy.

“This cunt is mine now, baby, d’you hear me?” Bucky’s voice was dark and deep and when you glanced up at him, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity that made your heart and pussy flutter.

“Yuh huh,” you mumbled, unable to stop yourself from agreeing. All the fight had been drained out of you by Bucky’s mouth leaving hickeys all over your body, and his cock pushing all thought of protest from your mind. 

“Let me hear you say it, doll, say your cunt belongs to me,” Bucky growled, his eyes alight with a feral gleam, like he knew you were right on the edge of giving everything to him. He choked you lightly again, encouragement in the grip of his hand on your throat. “Admit it, sweet girl—you’re mine.” 

Your resolve had crumbled to dust, it had collapsed under the weight of the pleasure Bucky offered. He filled you up so good, he’d marked you as his, and he felt so perfect, like he was made for you just as much as you were made for him. It was true, you belonged to him, and you were finally ready to accept it and say it.

“My cunt belongs to you, Bucky,” you said, your gaze focusing on your stalker until all you saw was him, the depraved glint in his eye and the pleased smirk on his face. It matched the perverted, needy spark in your heart. “I belong to you, James Barnes—I’m yours. Forever.”

A look of stunned surprise flitted across Bucky’s face, like he hadn’t expected you to actually give in, but it was quickly chased away by soulful exuberance. The grin that spread across his face was nearly blinding, and he ducked down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, one that felt like sealing your vows of eternal devotion.

“You are, you’re mine. Forever,” Bucky rasped against your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours. “And I’m yours, I’m entirely yours—my body belongs to you, my heart belongs to you, my soul belongs to you,” he vowed. “I am yours.”

Emotion swirled through your chest, Bucky’s words opening up your heart in a way you never expected. He’d crawled into your soul and made a home, and it was a relief to know that he was yours just as surely as you were his.

A sob of happiness tore from your lips, tears splashing down your cheeks and Bucky kissed them all away, cooing sweet words in your ear. His hips began to move, fucking you in slow, deep thrusts that made your toes curl.

Something desperate and needy flickered through your body and you tugged on the cuffs holding your wrists above your head. “Please, Bucky,” you begged, catching his eye and giving him a meaningful look. “I want to touch you, please let me.”

Immediately responding to your words, Bucky reached up and flicked a release on the cuffs. Suddenly, your hands were free, and you wasted no time wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, your fingers digging into his soft brown hair.

You tugged him close, until his broad body was flush against your softer one, your mouths brushing as you snarled, “Mine.”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth flicking up in a grin. “Mine,” he repeated, fucking you harder until you were letting out little ‘uh, uh, uh’ sounds against his lips. “My sweet girl, my pretty doll, my perfect, perverted match.”

You lifted your hips as much as you could to meet his thrusts, your ankles still restrained to the bed, sobbing your pleasure and chanting, “My man, my man, my man,” over and over again. 

Bucky pounded into you with everything he had, his hips thrusting flush against your core, the base of his cock grinding against your clit until you were seeing stars. Your chanting words cut off in a high-pitched cry, and Bucky groaned his pleasure, crooning into your lips that you were all his.

You came undone like that, shattering around Bucky’s cock while he kissed you, swallowing your sounds of pleasure like he was a starving man and they were the only sustenance he needed. Your body shook with the intensity of your release, and he held you through it, fucking you harder, his hips falling out of rhythm as he chased his own pleasure.

He followed you over the edge a moment later, groaning his release into your lips as his cock twitched inside you, drowning your pussy in his cum. You licked the sound of pleasure from him mouth, greedily drinking it down and savoring it like it was the most delicious, delectable treat you’d ever tasted. 

The two of you writhed together, eking out every bit of pleasure from your releases as you kissed hungrily. It wasn’t enough, it didn’t feel like you’d ever get enough of Bucky. You could feel an obsession with him and his cock blooming deep in your heart and soul, and you couldn’t be bothered to fight it. He was yours, after all.

When you and Bucky were finally sated, he released your ankles from their bindings and the cuffs quickly fell away. He rolled onto his back, taking you with him, massaging the muscles in your arms and legs to ensure they recovered from being restrained. 

A soft smile curved your mouth and you buried your face in Bucky’s bare chest, inhaling the scent of him and enjoying the feeling of his touch. You lay, pliant and happy, on top of him, his cock still inside you as his cum seeped out around his softening length. 

“Say it again,” Bucky murmured into your temple before pressing a kiss there. His stubble rasped deliciously against your skin and you couldn’t help the soft giggle that erupted from your lips. 

“I’m yours, Bucky, all yours,” you said, giving him what he’d asked for you. “Thank you for ruining me, for marking me as yours—thank you for keeping me. Forever.”

Bucky made a pleased sound in his throat, then his finger pressed beneath your chin, tipping your face up so he could see you. The edges of his mouth were curled in a gentle smile, and he looked so handsome in that moment, it took your breath away. 

“I’m yours, too, sweet doll,” he vowed, his voice low and rumbly and so earnest you felt your heart throb in response. “All yours, only yours, forever. I’m your man—your filthy pervert, your depraved stalker.”

You giggled into his kiss. “My man is a stalker, and I might be a sick freak because I like it.” 

“You’re my sick freak,” Bucky said, his voice filled with affection as he wrapped you up tightly in his thick arms. He pressed another kiss to your lips and then urged you to settle down and get some rest. 

You fell asleep in the arms of your neighbor, your stalker, your man—Bucky Barnes.

thank you for reading!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated ♡

‘’At least call Sam back.’’ She pleaded.  The session was over, he got up from his seat, ‘’Will do.’’ He gave her a soldier salute and then waltzed out of her office, as he was about to close the door with his high senses he could hear the woman sigh and write on her notes. The soft sound of pen making contact with paper filled his already buzzing mind. He marched the halls of the building, he noticed the way people who work here avoiding making eye contact, moving out of his way. He knew the effect he had on people, they were afraid of him, as they should be because he didn’t even trust himself, he was healed in Wakanda, thanks to the community there especially Wakanda’s highly trained Dora Milaje but he was in fear that one day he was going to snap and become the Winter Soldier again. Of course his therapist didn’t know this fear of his, he wasn’t good at opening up, giving details.

Today he was off, didn’t have anything to do so his plan was to go the pub near his home and drink, maybe see Mr. Nakajima, Bucky was living in an apartment complex with his neighbors but he was only talking to Mr. Nakajima and Mrs. Rodriguez.

The reason why he was helping Mr. Nakajima was that when he was the Winter Soldier he had killed his son, he was trying to make amends and this was his way of saying sorry. He was helping him and keeping him company. Mrs. Rodriguez on the other hand was just a sweet old lady who would bake for him and Bucky would take out her trash and help her carry the groceries. As he was marching to his Harley he thought about Doc’s words, ‘’You are alone…’’ no, he wasn’t. Even though his friends were old he still had some people around him… maybe he should return Sam’s calls.

On his bike he had an idea, he was stopping at the red light, Mrs. Rodriguez once mentioned that her husband, until his last day he would get her a bouquet of red roses every week. Bucky wanted to surprise the old lady who was like a mother to him at this point, (even though he was actually older than her) it would be a nice surprise. The city was crowded as usual, he loved to watch people, most of them were in hurry. Hurrying to pick up their kids from school, getting groceries, trying to run to their appointments… life was normal for them but for James Buchanan Barnes Jr. life had never been normal. Even back in the 40s he was protecting his ma from his dad, he was hustling jobs before he became a soldier. It was never easy for him and it wasn’t going to be, he had made peace with that but sometimes, especially late at night as he laid on the floor of his small living room his mind dared to dream. A nice home, lights are on, soft music playing at the background and a woman greeting him as he enters their home… In those split seconds he would stop himself as soon as he realizes that he was dreaming something that could never happen. He didn’t see himself worthy of that kind of life.

He parked his bike on the empty alley and looked around, there was a flower shop across the street so he walked up to the shop. His boots heavy on the pavement, he had his black hoodie and his black leather jacket on top with black jeans and boots, he never forgot his leather gloves, he didn’t like people seeing his metal arm. He didn’t want to be recognized as the Winter Soldier, he was just Bucky.

The tall glass showed the inside, it looked like a cozy place, the door of the place was dark green, there was a writing on the tall glass it said ‘’Floral Fantasia’’  as he opened the door he could hear the golden bell that was attached to the door, the floors were dark wood, one could see the various types of flowers in large vases. The strong scent of freshness filled his nostrils, he had never smelt that many flowers in one place before, there was a young girl behind one of the counters and she was busy with decorating a vase, ‘’Hello Sir.’’ She smiled, Bucky didn’t return the smile, he was still standing, the door behind him. ‘’Y/N!’’ the young girl called, apparently she was busy to take his order. She smiled apologetically again, her blue eyes ran up and down on him, as she turned to go to the back of the flower shop she gave him a quick look again, Bucky could tell that this blue eyed blonde woman found him attractive, which made him feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Soon the blue eyed girl returned with another girl, now Bucky was close to the counter that had the cashier, waiting impatiently, he was about to leave when he saw her.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66A_3uwuZ_I (this is the song that plays when Bucky sees her for the first time)

‘’My friend will take your order Sir, sorry to keep you waiting.’’ The previous girl said but Bucky almost didn’t hear her. His deep blue eyes focused on the new girl and as soon as he saw her something in him shifted. She looked up with those pretty eyes, eyes that could destroy empires, there was a height difference between them so she had to look up at him. She smiled kindly at him, she didn’t have any make up on, she was wearing a simple white long sleeve shirt, why was she wearing that in this heat? Bucky was covering his arm so he had to,  her blue jeans fit her hips perfectly, her long hair tied carefully, Bucky could feel his heart picking up the pace, his flesh palm getting sweatier with a certain kind of feeling he couldn’t quite place. ‘’What would you like to have Sir?’’ she simply asked, Bucky had to clear his dry throat before he could speak, ‘’A bouquet of red roses.’’ He replied with a cold tone but deep down he could feel the strange attraction towards her. He watched her skillful hands work on the bouquet, she must have been doing this for a long time, ‘’Here you are.’’ She finished her work of art and extended the bouquet and he specifically got the roses with his non metal hand, just to feel her fingers brush the leather and maybe feel a fraction if he was lucky. ‘’That’ll be 40 dollars Sir.’’ He got the money from his leather wallet and used the same hand to give the money, their fingers brushed again, he wished he didn’t have the gloves but he had to. ‘’Thank you so much, have a great day.’’ She said smiling as she placed the money, he only nodded and left the place in a hurry. His mind was going to dark places such as waiting outside till her shift ends… he forced himself to walk to his bike, he placed the roses carefully on the small trunk that was at the back, got on the bike and started the engine and waited. His thoughts occupied by the girl’s sweet smile and beautiful face. He exhaled, ‘’She is just attractive, that’s all.’’  He thought, ‘’If it was the 40s I would’ve asked her out on a movie night, maybe we would go to the beach and drink coke..’’

After waiting on his bike for few minutes he left the empty alley.

‘’Gosh! He was dreamy!’’ Y/N’s work bestie Melanie pointed out as soon as the man left. They had to finish up the vases for a wedding. The bride had chosen white tulips with slight green here and there, Y/N’s focus was on the glass vase she had just finished decorating, she sighed, deep in thoughts. Was she going to have a wedding one day? ‘’I’m sorry, what did you say?’’ she asked, Melanie was sitting on one of the tables, swaying her legs like a child, her blue eyes looking at Y/N, ‘’The man who bought the roses, he was so hot!’’ she tried to remember but all she remembered was a stern look and a tall muscular frame, ‘’Oh, you think so?’’ Y/N had started a new vase, her hands quick. ‘’Girl, didn’t you even look at him. I wish he would come back! You know what, if he comes again I’ll let you know so that you’ll see how hot he is.’’ Melanie was persistent, ‘’Alright alright, get back to work.’’ Y/N said, she was few years older than Melanie and also their boss made it clear that when he wasn’t around Y/N was in charge because she was responsible and always got the job done no matter what. ‘’How are thing with your boyfriend?’’ Melanie was a chatty one, Y/N’s hands started to shake when she heard the question maybe because she didn’t eat lunch yet, ‘’He just moved in with me.’’ Y/N replied, forcing a smile. They had a huge fight this morning, that’s why she was wearing a long sleeved shirt, ‘’Oh after 5 years, finally!’’ Melanie said, it was true, Y/N and Leo were together for five years, she didn’t remember the time they were so in love, maybe the first year of their relationship… Leo was so nice and kind.. she often wondered what happened to that sweet boy who was replaced with a gambling monster. Leo had to move in with Y/N because he was in a lot of debt, she was helping him for maybe two years, giving him money and food and now he was in her small apartment, he had to be under the radar for a while so her place was the perfect solution. Y/N’s weary head felt more heavier than usual, she rested her hands on the counter for a split second, eyes closed, ‘’You okay?’’ Melanie immediately noticed her friend being dizzy, ‘’Yeah, just, I need water.’’ She managed to say, Melanie rushed to the back, they had a small kitchen at the back and a lounge area, she brought a tall glass of water for her friend, ‘’Here. You can sit for a while.’’

Y/N only nodded, her arms feeling weak.

Bucky never used the elevator, he was climbing up the stairs holding the bouquet in one hand, the other free. The government had placed him in that apartment complex to make him adjust to the new world, he had to be among people all the time and he detested it most of the time. The apartment’s flats were occupied by various people, old, young, single, married, so many different lives that made him feel stuck in a time capsule, he wasn’t that young boy who got drafted to war, he wasn’t a killing machine either, what was he now? He had no idea. He walked up to Mrs. Rodriguez’s door, knocked on it thrice, waiting patiently, soon the door opened and the old lady’s brown eyes smiled at him. He noticed that every time she saw him there was a light in her eyes, it made his heart get a warm feeling. ‘’Hi, Mrs. Rodriguez, these are for you.’’ He extended the roses, his mind flashing him with the image of that girl who had made the bouquet, so sweet, so innocent looking..

‘’Aw, James!’’ she was one of the rare people he revealed his first name, she was now smiling ear to ear, there was dust of flour on her chubby fingers, she must have been baking again, per usual. Her pink apron was old and stitched so many times it reminded him the old times where one had to stitch their clothes, no one could afford a new one. ‘’These are beautiful. Thank you so much, you’re such a gentleman, girls must be all over you.’’ It made him scoff but he gave her a smirk, whenever he was around old people or people he was comfortable with his old self would come out with smirks, eye rolling and smug attitude. ‘’Wait!’’ she said as she walked back inside and brought back cookies, ‘’They are still warm.’’ She was so generous ‘’Thank you so much Mrs. Rodriguez, I’ll bring back the plate.’’ He gave her a smile and said goodbye, his flat was upstairs so he climbed the stairs again.

He reached to his dark brown door, immediately he could hear Alpine’s soft meows. He opened the door and was greeted by her, she was meowing as if complaining, ‘’Yeah yeah, I know I’m late. You’re just like my Ma.’’ He locked the door as he entered, his curtains were closed, there was a grey sofa in his living room, no rug, a small TV, it was a small place, connecting the kitchen and living room. At the back there was a bedroom and bathroom. He placed the plate of cookies on the white counter, noticing Alpine’s food bowl empty, ‘’Oh that’s why you were complaining.’’ He filled the white bowl, and made sure she had water as well and then he hit the shower, he stood there under the cold water, he hated the cold but it woke him up. The cold made him remember Siberia’s freezing cells, a memory he would kill to forget. After the shower, he removed the blanket over the mirror to see if he had to shave or not but he could wait for a few days, he covered the mirror again, he didn’t like seeing his reflection because it made him feel distorted to see a man who is 100 something years old still alive with a Vibranium arm, he walked back to turn on the TV, he had a towel wrapped around his waist, his dog tags hanging and sticking to his broad chest, there was a game tonight and he didn’t want to miss it.  He sat on the sofa as he zapped and found the channel, once he had found the channel he went to his fridge which only had frozen pizza and beer packs. He threw one pizza into the microwave and  got few beers, as the pizza was getting warmer he walked to his bedroom door, he opened it and hit he lights. He was actually using his bedroom as a dressing room, he had a wardrobe and a bed that has never been slept on. He wore shorts and threw the towel on the bed, and walked back to get the pizza. He liked game nights, it reminded him the old times where Bucky and Steve would listen through radio with friends. There was a dominant knock on his door, he huffed, Bucky took the pizza out of the microwave and walked to the door with cautious steps, other than the government only few people knew his location. When he checked the peephole he saw Sam’s face, he lifted one of his hand to show that he brought a six pack. ‘’Drop the weapons Bucky.’’ He rolled his eyes, Bucky huffed again and answered the door, ‘’Be quick.’’ He assured Sam inside because he didn’t want anyone of his neighbors to see his vibranium arm. ‘’It’s game night! Oh great you have pizza!’’ Sam placed the beers on the counter, got himself one and then dropped to Bucky’s sofa. Without a word Bucky popped another slice into the microwave for Sam.

‘’So, you’ve been ignoring me because….’’ Sam pointed it out as they were watching the game, it had been 20 minutes. ‘’I was busy.’’ Bucky cut short with a raspy voice, ‘’Busy with what? Hanging out with old people?’’

Bucky snapped, was Sam spying on him? Or someone else getting information on him? His distorted mind started to went into a whole spiral, was Sam trustworthy? Was he also following Mr. Nakajima and Mrs. Rodriguez?

‘’Relax blue steel!’’ Sam raised his hands in defense, ‘’I don’t got nobody on your tail! I saw your neighbor on the way to you, sweet old man asked me if I was heading to your place.’’ Bucky’s eyes travelled on Sam’s smug face to detect if he was lying, he couldn’t find any proof so he dropped it, for now.

‘’They might be old but they’re still people so I’m doing what Doc says.’’ He defended himself with an annoyed voice, finished his beer and got up, ‘’I’m assuming that your future girlfriend is going to be what-‘’ Sam pretended like he was calculating, ‘’around 80 years.’’ And laughed out loud, he couldn’t realize the change on Bucky’s face, his mind went to the girl he saw today, at the flower shop.  ‘’Yeah, right.’’ He didn’t have the energy to protest to Sam.

Something in Bucky kept whispering, a soft voice calling him, he knew from the very first start that he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

Thank you for reading. :)

the annoyingly bright florescent lights of the star court mall boutique hummed, casting a bright glow over the racks of neon fabrics and denim. you walked past the displays, your arms already heavy with a couple of records and a new guitar strap you’d managed to find for eddie’s birthday. shopping for your older brother was usually easy—just find anything black, studded, or related to heavy metal—but today, a stray mannequin near the back of the store had caught your eye.

it was wearing a dress. it wasn't your usual style at all—no baggy band tees or flowy maxy dresses to hide behind. usually, you avoided shorter, more revealing cuts. finding clothes that fit right was always a gamble, especially with a bigger chest; things either pulled too tight across your top or ended up looking like a shapeless tent.

but this one was different. it was a deep brown tone, with a slightly lower neckline and a hemline that hit a few inches above the knee. something about the cut made you pause.

“why not?” you muttered to yourself, slipping the hanger off the rack before you could talk yourself out of it.

in the dingy changing room, you set eddiems birthday gifts down and carefully stepped into the dress. as you pulled it up and adjusted the straps, you braced yourself for the usual disappointment. you reached for the zipper, waiting for it to catch, but it slid up smoothly.

turning to face the full-length mirror, your eyes widened.

the dress didn't just fit—it looked incredible. the lower neckline framed your breasts perfectly without feeling uncomfortable, and the fabric hugged your curves in exactly the right places before flaring out slightly at the waist. the shorter length felt fun and bold, completely different from the baggier, long clothes you were usually forced to opt for anyway.

for the first time in a long time, you didn't see the flaws in the mirror. you just saw how vibrant and confident you looked. a massive smile broke across your face, and you twirled slightly, watching the fabric move.

you couldn't wait to buy it. eddie’s birthday party was the perfect excuse to finally wear something that made you feel this spectacular.

hours had passed since then. now, you stood in front of your bedroom mirror, smoothing your hands down the fabric of the dress one last time. seeing yourself like this—confident, vibrant, and wearing something that actually made you feel amazing—felt entirely new, and you couldn't help but smile at your reflection.

a sharp knock on the door broke the quiet. "hey, kid! you ready? everyone’s waiting, and i am ready to celebrate!" eddie’s voice boomed from the hallway.

"yeah, just a second!" you called back.

remembering that eddie would definitely be celebrating with a few beers tonight, you walked over to your nightstand and snatched his van keys. as the designated driver for the night, you slipped them safely into your purse before opening the door. eddie took one look at you, gave a proud, approving nod at seeing his little sister looking so happy and confident, and the two of you headed out to the van.

the drive to steve’s house was filled with the usual loud music and eddie drumming on the steering wheel, but your heart raced a little faster as you pulled into the driveway.

when you walked through the front door, the crowded house seemed to fade into the background the exact second steve looked up. he caught sight of you from across the room, and his jaw practically dropped. he didn't even say goodbye to the person he was talking to. he walked straight over to you, his eyes locked onto yours, full of absolute adoration.

"hey, gorgeous," steve breathed, his voice warm and filled with awe as he stepped into your space. he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. "you look... absolutely stunning. i can't even take my eyes off you."

"you like it?" you asked, a flush of happiness hitting your cheeks.

“i love it. i love everything about it," he murmured, his hands resting securely on your waist, completely unwilling to let you go. he leaned down, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your forehead and temple, mumbling against your skin about how incredible you looked.

your cheeks tinged red as they began to grow hot, making you curl up in his touch. you gently pushed at his chest and broke free from his grasp. “i’m gonna get a drink. you want anything?”

steve was right. he literally couldn’t take his eyes off of you. they didn’t even know where the focus. they were trailing down from your face, to your chest, all the way down to your shoes, and back up to repeat the cycle in a scrambled order. “just, uhm…” his voice trailed off, licking his lips as he admired how beautifully this dress fit. “beer. just a beer please, honey.”

he looked like a sad puppy for entirety of your walk to his fridge. he couldn't breathe. he actually couldn't breathe. the fact that everyone could see you in that pretty dress while he had to watch from afar, irked him in a way he wasn’t ready to admit.

and the moment you returned, he was cracking open the bottle cap with his teeth and pulling you into him, your chest flush to his with his big hand splayed over your back. “you look like a fucking dream, you know that?”

steve was already one or two beers deep from the casual sips while setting up, the alcohol stripping away his usual composure and replacing it with a desperate, starving hunger. he didn't just want you; he was fucking obsessed.

he had spent the last hour practically glued to your side, his body pressing into yours every chance he got. he wasn't subtle either. his hand was permanently anchored to you, his fingers digging into the soft, plush curve of your tummy, kneading the skin through the fabric of the dress. he loved how you felt—how soft and yielding you were. he kept sliding his hand down, pawing at the fat of your hips, squeezing your flesh with a needy intensity. and the moment he pressed himself tight up against your side, you could feel exactly how hard he was under his jeans.

"god, you're so beautiful," he groaned, his voice thick and hazy. he leaned in, his breath smelling of beer and smoke, pressing wet, sloppy kisses all over your cheeks, your jawline, and the sensitive skin of your neck. he was practically vibrating against you. "you have no idea, honey... i can't even think. i can't even fucking look at anyone else."

he shifted closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a filthy, guttural whisper. "i want you so bad. i want to feel every inch of you. please, baby... just let me take you upstairs. i’ll be so quick, i promise. no one’ll even notice we’re gone... just me and you. i need to get you out of this dress. i need to taste you."

you chuckled and lightly pushed at his chest to create some space between the two of you. “steve, we can’t just leave. it’s my brother’s party,” you reasoned, pecking his lips to help soften the rejection. “what if someone find us hiding up there?”

he towered back over your, lazily mouthing at your neck. “we can go to the car,” he suggested, completely intoxicated by you. he couldn’t help but suck a deep purple bruise just below the neckline of your dress. one wrong move and everyone would see it. “no one will come looking for us out there.”

when you finally nodded, a small, breathless smile on your lips, steve let out a sound that was half-moan, half-sob. he didn't just walk you out— he practically steered you, his hands unable to stay still for a single second.

as you led him toward the door, you couldn’t help but anxiously glance around for any eyes watching. steve followed close behind you, his large palms gripping your ass, squeezing the soft cheeks through the dress, pulling you back against his hardness with every step. he was extremely bold and clingy from the beer and the desperation, his hands wandering upward, reaching around to paw at your breasts. he kneaded them firmly, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the cloth, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder.

"so big," he whimpered, his voice trembling. "so fucking soft. i’m going to devour you the second we hit that seat."

your felt another flicker of anxiety, glancing back at the house where the party was still roaring. "steve, stop," you whispered, your voice a mix of a plea and a command. "slow down. someone’s going to see us. we’re in the middle of the street—what if someone walks by?"

steve didn't even flinch. he stopped for a second, pulling you flush against his hard chest, his eyes dark and clouded with lust. a smirk played on his lips, arrogant and completely smitten.

"let them," he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, possessive growl. "i don't give a fuck. i want them to see. i want everyone to know exactly how crazy my gorgeous girl makes me. i want them to see how much I need you."

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned to face him. you tried to keep your face stern, masking the smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth. You put your hands on his chest, pushing him back just an inch, your eyes narrowing.

"no," you said firmly, your voice taking on a sharp, assertive edge. "you are going to behave. you will wait two minutes until we get to the car, and then you can do whatever you want. do you understand?"

the effect on steve was instantaneous. he didn't fight you. instead, he practically melted. the sight of you taking charge, putting him in his place with that stern look, sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to his groin. he looked at you with wide, dilated pupils, his chest heaving.

he nodded submissively, his head bobbing almost like a little puppy, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he fought the urge to just pin you against the nearest fence. he loved it. he absolutely loved being told what to do by you. he was exactly where he wanted to be—completely at your fingertips and utterly desperate for the moment you finally let him lose control.

"yes, ma'am," he whispered, his voice shaking with anticipation. "whatever you want. just... please, can we hurry?"

by the time you reached the van at the end of the street, steve was barely holding it together. he damn near ripped the back doors off the hinges, lifted you you inside, and practically tackled you onto the bench seat, his eyes wide and glazed with a primal, unfiltered hunger for every single curve of your body.

the moment the van doors slammed shut, the silence of the street was replaced by the frantic, desperate sounds of steve’s breathing. he didn't just want you, he was literally starving for you. he descended on you like a man possessed, his hands shaking as he gripped the fabric of your dress. “fuck, honey. need you so bad.” he loved how you looked in it, but the need to feel your bare skin was overriding everything. he practically ripped the fabric down, the dress sliding over your hips to reveal the lush, soft curves he had been dreaming about all night.

when your breasts finally spilled out, free and heavy, steve let out a choked, guttural sound. he didn't even wait. he collapsed on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you into the bench seat, and dove straight for your chest.

"god, look at them... look at you," he whimpered, his voice broken. he began nursing on your breast with a primal intensity, his lips sealing around one large, soft nipple as he sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the peak. he was a complete fucking mess, his face flushed, his eyes glazed over with pure adoration. “jesus christ, baby. you’re gonna fucking kill me in this pretty thing.” he moved from one breast to the other, licking, biting, and sucking on the pale skin, leaving a trail of wet, hot marks across your chest. he was completely enamored by the size and softness of them, his hands palming your breasts, squeezing them together to push them closer to his mouth.

"so perfect... fuck, you're so fucking perfect," he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick and needy.

while he was devouring your breasts, his hips were grinding relentlessly into you, his hard length pressing against your center. he could feel your cunt soaking straight through the thin fabric of your underwear. he fumbled with his belt, the metallic clinking of the buckle sounding frantic in the small space. he didn't take his eyes off you for a second, his gaze hungry and devoted. with a desperate grunt, he freed his huge, pulsing cock and guided himself to your opening.

he slid into you slowly, a long, deep stretch that filled you completely. steve let out a loud, melodic moan, his head falling back against the seat as he felt the crushing tightness of your cunt. he was shaking, his entire body trembling from the sheer sensation of being inside you.

“oh god... you're so tight... so fucking warm," he gasped, his voice straining. he began to rut into you, his hips moving in slow, heavy thrusts that drove him deeper and deeper. he wasn't just fucking you; it’s like he was trying to merge into one with you, wanting to be as close as humanly possible.

every time he pushed forward, his hands stayed glued to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh, lifting them up so he could watch them bounce with every thrust. the mix of hushed whispers, of praise and desperation and moans, in your ear was enough to make you want to scream.

it doesn’t take long until his hot mouth is back on your breasts, sucking hard and licking at your peaked nipples. it was all too much. “oh! stevie, mmph! please— need to slow down,” you whined, blinking back the thick tears pooling in your eyes. “i can’t— fuck, i can’t mess up my makeup.”

he released your skin with a wet pop and pressed a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “we’ll get you fixed up later, honey. oh, fuck. i promise,” he gasped out. "i can't... i can't even think when i’m looking at your tits," he groaned, his pace picking up, becoming more frantic. "i love them so much. i love every fucking inch of you. shit, i’m not gonna last... baby, i’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that... fuck, i need you... i need all of you."

he was a shipwreck of a man, completely undone by your body, his moans filling the van as he drove himself into your warmth, obsessed with the way you felt and the way you looked beneath him.

with a sudden, powerful surge of strength, steve gripped your hips and rolled you both over in one fluid motion. he sat up against the back of the van seats, his back against the cool leather and your legs situated on either side of his thighs, seating you firmly on top of him.

the change in position was electric. now, you were the one in control, bouncing slowly on his huge cock, and the view for steve was nothing short of heavenly. your heavy breasts were perfectly positioned right in his face, swaying and jiggling with every downward press. he looked up at you with eyes that were completely blown out, his expression one of pure, unfiltered worship.

as you sank down, the small patch of coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbed perfectly against your clit, creating a friction that had you gasping and arching your back into him. steve let out a strangled noise, his hands immediately flying to your body. one hand stayed anchored to your clit, his fingers dancing over the sensitive nub in a rhythmic, driving motion that pushed you closer to the edge, while the other hand gripped your breast, pulling it firmly into his mouth.

he began to suck on you again, his tongue swirling around your nipple while he looked up at you through his lashes. he wasn't just focused on the sex; he was obsessed with your entire body. he reached down, his large hand sliding over the soft, pillowy curve of your tummy, his fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. he loved the way your skin felt—soft, warm, and abundant. he was a complete sucker for every single curve, every fold of your beautiful body.

"you’re so perfect," he whispered, his voice a ragged, shaking mess. "god, i’m the luckiest man in the fucking world. looking at you, feeling you... you're an angel, baby. you’re fucking unreal."

he started to thrust upward with a sudden, violent intensity, his hips snapping up to meet your descent. he wanted to feel the impact, wanted to see the way your tits bounced and jiggled harder with every heavy hit. he was practically whimpering now, the sound of his desperation filling the cramped space of the van.

“But what if it’s not fine,” you’d pleaded. “What if there’s a- A storm, or more people than we thought, or- Or Bucky gets hurt-“

“Who is in charge of Bucky’s health?” Yelena had cut you off with a pointed look, and you’d swallowed.

“I’m not- I wouldn’t say in charge-“

“You make him eat vegetables. That is in charge.”

“I make all of you eat vegetables-“

“You don’t make me eat vegetables,” Walker had muttered, and you’d flipped him off.

“That’s because I hate you.”

Walker had scowled, Ava—pressed against the wall of the room and clearly trying not to be involved in this conversation—had snorted, and Yelena’s mouth had twitched.

“See,” she’d given you a winning grin. “You are a natural leader. You will be fine.”

“I will not be fine-“

Bucky had said your name, and everyone in the room had gone still. He’d been left out of this meeting. From Yelena’s wide eyes and Ava’s smirk, it hadn’t been hard to work out that it was on purpose.

“What isn’t going to be fine,” Bucky had muttered, and Walker and Yelena had an exchanged sharp, you do it looks.

Walker had lost the glare off, sighed, and turned to Bucky with a wide, winning grin.

“You’re taking the scout on her first mission, buddy, congrats- Shit- Hey-“

Bucky had stormed forward, metal hand flexing like he was thinking about wrapping it around Walker’s throat. He’d stopped himself, shot you a strange look, and jerked his head.

“Out,” he’d grunted, before pausing and adding, “Please.”

The please hadn’t been necessary. You’d almost run out the room with a nervous look back, a little worried you were going to come back to a bloodbath. The glass was supposed to be fully soundproof. You’d still been able to hear muffled, furious shouting. 

Bucky had stormed out after almost an hour, given you a tight look, strange look, then stomped down the hall. Yelena had given you a thumbs up. You’d—foolishly—hoped that meant you were off the hook.

It hadn’t.

You’d been dropped in Norway with Bucky a week later, an hour after planned—Alexei wanted to bring his camera, and wouldn’t hear anyone tell him no—with plans to be picked up in the morning.

“Stay close,” Bucky had muttered, not meeting your gaze. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You’d nodded, your voice barely more than a  breath. “James, I- I don’t know what you’d do.“

“Then don’t do anything.” He’d snapped.

You’d shrunken into yourself. You knew he didn’t like this—you weren’t a big fan either—but the bristling, electric anger almost radiating off of him, it wasn’t anything you were used to. Bucky was usually kind to you. He opened your doors and brought you muffins from the bakery down the street. You made him watch movies when he couldn’t sleep, and he asked you questions about pop culture when he was confused. You had a good—confusing, but good—relationship.

Yelena likes to tease that he like likes you. You try to punch her in the face, and always miss. He doesn’t. He couldn’t. He’s Bucky Barnes, and you’re a dork with a computer that he’s nice to because he’s a good man.

A kind, handsome, perfect man with a jawline you’d kill to kiss and hands you’d die to hold. A man who remembers your birthday when you sometimes forget, and knows your coffee order, and lets you push him around even thought he could crush you with a single hand. You’d like him to crush you with that hand. Maybe pin you down with it and split you open and kiss you with those soft lips that always ghost with a smile at your stupid jokes.

You never should’ve told Yelena about your tiny, little, totally manageable crush on him to begin with. It’s going to be the death of you. You’re sort of starting to worry that this was Yelena’s grand plan to finally make you talk to him. If it was, you’re actually going to kill her, or hire someone who can.

Because it started raining. And after it started raining, lightning cracked through the sky, and thunder followed, and you and Bucky got slowed down. Slowed down enough that—combined with the weather conditions—Alexei couldn’t come pick you up. And you had to find a hotel in Norway.

And the only room left had one bed.

And you’re going to jump off the balcony and pray that Bucky doesn’t catch you.

“You should take a shower,” he mutters, tossing your bag onto the couch. “I’ll go find some extra clothing.”

You nod, pulling at the sleeves of your drenched shirt. “I- I can take the couch-“

“No.”

You sigh. “Bucky-“

“I’m on the couch,” he shoots you a stern look, bracing his hands on his hips. “And you’re on the bed.”

You swallow, and nod. Arguing with him right now doesn’t seem productive. You’re lucky he’s still talking to you after the mission.

It didn’t go poorly. In fact, given everything, it actually went better than you could’ve hoped for. But Bucky is still looking at you like you’re a problem, and it’s making you sort of sick. You don’t want to be something extra that weighs on his shoulders. Don’t want to be an extra layer of ice, pressing down on his chest when he’s already the one keeping you both together. It’s already cold enough as it is.

You shower. Bucky finds clothing—an oversized, thin fabriced shirt that just drapes past your thighs—and follows after you. Neither of you say much, and you try not to let the silence feel like poison, but it’s hard. He’s never been quiet with you this long, but you’ve also never been in this kind of situation with him before.

“Alexei will get us in the morning,” he mutters, stepping out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Then we’ll get you home.”

“Oh- Okay.” You flush, staring down at your hands. His chest is broad, and bare, and warm looking. The rivers of scars over his shoulder and pecs look like they’d be easy to map, and the dip of his towel show off the strength of his stomach. Thick and muscled, soft in all the right places, probably easy to wrap yourself in, and-

Bucky mutters you name, and you’d stopped staring at your hands without thinking. You clear your throat and slide into the bed, grabbing your phone with shaking fingers and pretending to be deeply invested in the blank lock screen. In your periphery, Bucky doesn’t move for a long moment. You dare to look at him under your lashes, and find him staring back.

“Bucky?” You ask softly, and Bucky’s throat bobs. “Are you-“

“You did good,” he grunts, and you blink, heat rushing between your thighs.

“I- I did good?”

He nods tightly. “Today. You did good.”

“Oh.” You swallow, unable to break his gaze. “I- I didn’t do much-“

“You got me through the lab. You listened.”

“Anyone can listen, James.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches, and he huffs something close to a laugh. “You’d be surprised,” he mutters, grabbing his warm clothing off the arm of the couch. “And don’t sell yourself short, doll. You listen real well.”

Your mouth falls open, and you think you might be frozen in place. Bucky retreats back to the bathroom, and you’re not even sure what to do with yourself. You’re sure he didn’t mean it like that, but god, it would’ve been nice if he did. Your head certainly takes the thoughts and runs with them. Bucky over you in this same bed, that metal hand pressed against your stomach, cooed praise and light orders of take it and make some noise for me, doll. The gleam in his eyes when you’d listen, the way he’d feel buried inside of you, the burn of blue eyes as he’d watch you come apart, driving into your cunt over and over and over-

“Night,” Bucky grunts, and you blink at him through the dark.

“Night,” you breathe back, and for a second, you just stare at each other.

Bucky’s gaze softens slightly. You could swear is does. And maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but his gaze drags down the fabric of your sleep shirt, catching on your bare thighs and spread legs. His tongue darts over his lips, and you press your thighs together, shifting nervously on the mattress.

He looks back up to you, jaw working tight. 

“Night,” he mutters again, and you swallow.

He goes for the light, and you glance at the couch. It’s small. More of a sectional than a functional piece of comfort.  

“Bucky?” You say, before you can think better of it. “Do you- Do you want to sleep in the bed.”

Bucky freezes, his hand on the light switch. You swallow, pulling the sheets higher up your body, and Bucky mutters your name. “You don’t have to-“

“Are you going to be able to sleep on the couch?” You whisper, and his jaw ticks again.

“That’s not your shit to worry about-“

“Alexei’s going to talk the whole ride home,” you push, and his throat bobs. “And you- You get really grumpy when you don’t sleep.”

Bucky chuckles. “I get grumpy, huh.”

You nod, and he sighs. His hand curls into a fist, and for a second, you’re sure he’s going to tell you no.

“I- I really don’t mind-“ 

“Alright,” he cuts you off, words short and clipped. “You win.”

You blink, and try not to smile when he hits the lights. The streetlamps outside let you see his figure, walking over to the bed. You force yourself not to hold your breath, and lie down like everything is perfectly normal.

The mattress dips. Bucky lies flat and stiff on his back, slowly pulling the sheets over his body, and you turn away, trying to hide the flush blooming over your face.

This was a mistake. That’s clear now. You adore him too much, and you wanted to help, and it made you forget about the actual consequences of Bucky being right there, next to you, wearing only sweats and emitting heat like a furnace. The bed feels smaller than it did a moment ago, but that might just be the size of him. Your fingers brush, and his hand jerks away like he thinks you’re going to burn. You twist further over, pulling the blankets with you.

“You’re hogging,” Bucky grunts, and you pull your knees a little into your chest.

“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to loosen your grip. “Just- Cold.”

It’s not cold. It was, before he climbed in next to you. Now it’s impossibly humid, like you’ve been dropped in to a hot spring. Bucky sighs, and doesn’t take the slack of the sheets you offered. You shift in the bed, trying to make yourself smaller, trying to offer him more space.

The minutes crawl past you. It’s been an exhausting day, but you’ve never been more awake. You’re worried he can hear your heartbeat. You’re worried he can smell the arousal, pooling between your thighs whenever your feet brush. You’re almost curled fully into a ball, the sheet wrapped around you like a cocoon. A restless, anxious pill bug of a cocoon, trying to find a spot on the bed where you’re not painfully aware of Bucky’s presence.

His hands, brushing near your spine when you roll the wrong direction. The steady sound of his breath, that should be calming but only works you up more and more. The line of his jaw when you risk a look, and the flutter of his lashes as he stares at the ceiling. At least he’s not sleeping either. You can be grumpy together, in the morning.

“You’re movin’ too much,” Bucky grunts, and you’re flushing so deeply you’re worried you’re going to light on fire.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and he sighs.

“’S fine.”

You think he might just give up and go back to the couch, but he doesn’t. You consider taking the couch yourself, but you’re stubborn. You asked him to do this, and if you try to go to the couch, Bucky will just throw you back to bed and take the couch himself.

That’s a nice idea. Strong arms wrapped around you, manhandling you, folding you over and tossing you wherever he pleases like a fuckdoll.

You risk another look, and almost whimper.

He’s staring at you in the dark, that strange, hooded look gleaming in his eyes. Your heart pushes into your throat, and your fingers dig into your hips as you hold yourself. Neither of you seem to be able to think of anything to say. Bucky licks his lips again, his eyes darting down to the arch of your neck, and your breath catches. The air seems to be pressing over your skin like a shroud. You’re not sure what to do with yourself but try to breathe.

This must be a dream. Bucky wouldn’t look at you like that during the day. And if it isn’t a dream, he probably doesn’t mean it the way your sleepy, addled brain thinks. He’s always had the same effect on you as a strong drink. Making you a little loose-lipped and foolish and delusional. There’s a reason you don’t go out with him. You’re not trying to ruin the good, steady friendship you’ve had for so long.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” you whisper, and Bucky frowns.

“Stuck with you?”

“On- On the mission.”

His frown deepens. “I’m not stuck with you, that’s-“

He cuts himself off, rolling onto his back with a groan. He runs a hand over his face, and you swallow, pushing up a little to hold his gaze.

“It’s okay, I- I get it-“

“I wasn’t stuck with you,” he cuts you off, tone surprisingly stern. “I mighta been- Harsh,” he lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “But listen to me, I’m never- I like havin’ you around, alright? Never stuck with you.”

“But-“

“You matter,” he grunts, staring firmly up at the ceiling. “I don’t like this ‘cause you- You’re not supposed to be in these kinda situations, doll. That’s it. Don’t think it’s anything else.”

“Oh- Okay.” You whisper, and Bucky’s eyes dart to yours.

“Got it?”

You nod, and he sighs, looking back to the ceiling. His arms are still crossed, and he doesn’t look cold, but just lying there without blankets, it can’t be comfortable.

“Bucky?” You say softly, and he grunts. “Do you want the blankets?”

“I’m good-“

“We could share,” you add quickly, and he shoots you an amused look.

“I tried to share. You’re the one who kept yankin’ them away from me.”

You flush, wrinkling your nose. “They’re small-“

“They fit the mattress. Should fit two people.”

“Well, they didn’t think one of those people would be you.”

Bucky raises his brows, and your eyes widen.

“I- I just mean- You- You’re very big, and- I’m smaller- The sheets are smaller, and you’re big-“

“Said I’m big already,” he drawls, and you’re going to smack him.

“Well, you are,” you snap, yanking the sheets fully around you. “And now I’m not sharing. Because you’re being a butt.”

You flip over, burying your face in a pillow when Bucky laughs. It’s a low, deep sound that rolls through your body, almost making you dizzy. You feel the mattress shift behind you, and curl further into yourself.

“Your heart is racing,” he mutters, low and rough, and you’re sure you’re dreaming now.

“Your heart is racing.”

Bucky chuckles again. That’s a dangerous sound. He shouldn’t be allowed to make it.

“You’re bein’ bratty tonight,” he murmurs, a large, light hand tracing over the curve of your hips. “It’s cute.”

You want to roll over and hit him or something. It’s not fair to do that. Not right now, not to you. “James…” You whisper, and he hums.

“Love when say my name like that,” he toys with your hair between, and you bite back a moan. “You know you’re the only one I let say it, right? Only one who could get away with damn near anything ‘round me.”

You make a disgruntled, confused little sound that’s a mix between a moan and whine. You’re really not sure what the fuck is happening, but you’re terrified to ruin it. To move wrong and break from the dream.

“But Christ, doll,” Bucky wraps his hand slowly around the back of your neck, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning back into the touch. “I’m tryin’ real hard to be gentleman, and you’re not making it easy.”

His thumb drags over the base of your hairline, and the mattress dips again. Your breathing becomes shallow, as Bucky leans down. His lips brush near your ear, and you whimper, clinging onto the sheets for dear life.

“I can smell you,” he says, and you’d like the mattress to just swallow you whole. “Can smell how you get fuckin’ wet looking at me, how you gush whenever I touch you,” he squeezes that back of your neck gently. “Tell me to back off. Before I do something real stupid and selfish.”

You roll over slowly, and try not to moan at just the sight of him. Hanging over you in the dark, broad shoulders and parted lips, staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“Selfish?” You manage to breathe, reaching up to rest your hand, flat against his burning chest. “James, you’re not-“

“Don’t.” He catches your wrist, but doesn’t push you away. “I want you all to myself. I’d call that selfish.”

You shake your head, your heart pounding your ears. Your nails scrape over his skin, and his whole body almost shudders with restraint. He mutters your name, cupping your cheek, his thumb dragging against your lower lip. 

“Please,” he rasps. “Don’t look at me like that, doll, c’mon-“

“What if I want you to look at me like that,” you whisper, and Bucky’s fingers flex against your jaw. “What- What if I want you too.”

Bucky’s gaze drops back to your lips. His tongue flicks out again, and when he looks at you, you can feel the desperation, tight as a wire between your bodies, begging to be snapped.

You’re not a brave person. You have never been. But under his attention, you feel like you could do anything. You drag your hand over his shoulders, and he shudders. You hold him, trembling with anticipation, and tug him down. He lets you, lowering until your lips are just brushing, his eyes lidded and features blown out.

“You sure?” He mutters, letting out a sharp breath when you nod. “I’m not- One night ain’t gonna be enough-“

“Good,” you whisper, and Bucky groans, fully dropping his brow. “Bucky- Please-“

Bucky kisses you, and you’ve dedicated countless hours to dreaming of this moment. You’ve played it out in a million scenarios, a million different ways, with a million different results. You never dared let yourself think that the reality would be better than the dream, and yet you’re here. And Bucky’s kissing you, and you didn’t know anything could feel so good.

He’s slow. Almost cautious, like he’s trying to test the waters of just how much he’s allowed to take. His lips are chapped and warm, working softly against yours, lighting a little fire with every single, teasing kiss. His tongue brushes over your low lip and you suck in a sharp breath. Bucky hums, pressing a little further down, caging you beneath the mass of his body, trapping you beneath him.

You’re exactly where you want to be. You open your mouth when his tongue presses on your lower lip, tugging gently on his hair to coax him on. He moans down your throat, weaving his fingers into your hair and tugging ever so lightly back. You let him guide you, clinging to his shoulders, getting swept away in the mass of him, the feeling of having him everywhere. His free hand drags down to caress your side, and you arch into the touch with a soft, uncontrolled sound.

Bucky groans, and his kiss gets sloppier. His movements become shorter, his lips demanding against yours. You’re already out of breath, but you don’t dare to push him away. You’ll let him kiss you like this until your head is spinning, until you pass out from the pleasurable, burning ache of his kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters against your lips, kissing between every word as if he can’t stop himself. “You’re so fuckin’ soft for me, doll, so sweet and easy.”

You whine and Bucky chuckles, kissing you deep and long and so torturously slow. His hand drags further down, tugging the hem of your shirt up. Your legs spread mindlessly, all the thoughts in your head being sucked away by Bucky’s kisses. Cool, metal fingers drag up your sensitive thigh, and you gasp, whole body shivering under the touch.

“You like that, huh,” Bucky kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other. “Tryin’ to take it nice and slow, but you’re already begging for a little, more. Look at you,” he kisses up your cheek, over your jaw. “Gonna take real good care of you, doll. Make it feel real good for my pretty, needy girl.”

Words are already failing you, and you’re getting a little worried for what kind of boneless, fuckdoll puppet you’re going to be when he’s done with you. It’s an electric, hopeful fear. You hope you can feel him when you sit down tomorrow. You hope you can’t walk straight for a fucking week.

Bucky kisses over your nose, then your neglected cheek, and down your jaw. His teeth graze against you, his hand in your hair angling you around so he can suck little bruises right under your jaw. Those thick, metal fingers are still teasing along the inseam over your panties, and when his thumb brushes against the embarrassingly wet spot against your core, he groans against your skin.

“So wet,” he mutters, kissing over the sore mark under your jaw, then attaching his lips near your pulse point. “All for me, isn’t it? Thinkin’ about me fucking you, nice and slow.”

His tongue flicks against your throat, and you make a borderline pathetic noise.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You cry out, wrapping your arms fully around his neck. “Just for you- Only for you- Please-“

Bucky groans, pushing his face further into your neck. His thumb drags back against your clothed slit, teasing the lightest amount of pleasure until you’re clenching around nothing.

“More,” you try to demand, but it’s breathy and broken. “James, I- I need more-“

You roll your hips up, and Bucky’s thumb bumps right up against your clit. Your thighs try to push together and hold him there, but he grabs them forcing them back open and pushing his knee right against your core.

“Demanding,” he presses a quick kiss to your lips then pushes back up, tracing his thumb over the curve of your swollen bottom lip. “You wanna try that one again?”

You swallow and shake your head, trying to push him just a little, just to test what will happen. Bucky’s jaw ticks. He pushes his knee further forward against your cunt, and you cry out, rolling your hips to chase a little extra friction. Bucky lets you, his thumb pushing a little further into your mouth.

He groans when you take him, swirling your tongue and sucking as the need between your thighs builds impossibly high. He keeps hitting against your clit, but not with nearly enough pressure, and he’s planted against your fluttering cunt, but you need him in you. You need to not be able to think, outside of Bucky all around you. If you were stronger, you’d try to pull him back down, but you’re not. You’re  a messy, fluttering mess beneath him, unable to remember how cold it was moments ago as you suck on his thumb like a whore.

Bucky presses on your abdomen, pushing you deeper into the mattress, and you grab his wrist. You give him your best, watering, pathetic eyes. You need more of him the same way you need oxygen. His knee isn’t enough, no amount of him is enough. If you don’t get to drown in the pine scent and massive strength of him, you might start actually screaming.

“Look at you,” Bucky mutters, leaning over your body with a smirk. “So pretty like this, doll. Could drive a man fuckin’ crazy.”

You whimper, eyes dropping to his crotch. To the thick, massive tent pressing against his sweats, and the slightly dark spot against the gray fabric. You moan around his thumb, and watch it twitch slightly. Bucky groans, leaning further down so the head of his cock drags against your soft thigh. He pulls his thumb away, smearing a line of spit over your cheek, then ducks down and lick it away. You moan, turning your face to try and meet his lips, and he chuckles.

“That’s right,” he mutters, indulging you with a slow, gentle kiss. “I know what you need, baby. I’ve got you.”

You hum, eyes fluttering closed and Bucky goes back to kissing you like you’re something priceless. You’re still fucking yourself on his knee, the feeling spreading like a warm, rising tide through your body. Bucky hums, his now free hand slowly dragging under your shirt. Teasing up your side, under your breast, then pinching your nipple between two fingers and rolling it in tight, fast circles.

He swallows the cry that leaves your lips, flicking your nipple before soothing the hurt with his thumb.

“Easy,” he mutters. “Nice and easy. Let’s get you ready, huh?”

You nod, thinking back to that tent in Bucky’s pants. You’re going to need to be ready to take that. And whatever he has to do to get you there, you’re more than willing to let him.

Bucky pulls back up and slowly guides your t-shirt over your head, tossing it off to the side and helping you settle back into the mattress. A low groan rumbles through his chest as his eyes rake over your body, and your arms instinctively go up to cover yourself from the unrelenting, almost feral gaze.

He catches your wrist and pins it over your head, giving you a stern, knowing look.

“Don’t hide,” he scolds, his metal hand slowly trailing down your exposed body. “Most gorgeous fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen, trying to hide her pretty little body from me.” He grabs your waist, squeezing the soft skin before massaging it, holding your gaze the whole time. “Been driving me made for years, baby. Thinking you were right there and I’d never get to have you like this.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Torture. Goddamn torture.”

Your mouth is hanging open, your breaths coming out in short helpless pants. You’re not even really sure what to do with yourself but lay there, and you’d feel worse about that if it didn’t seem to be exactly what Bucky wanted as well.

“Thought about just fuckin’- Living with my face here,” he palms at your breast, the cold of his metal hand a sharp contrast to the fire, brimming under every inch of your skin. “Marking those up until the whole world knew that you were mine. My needy little slut.”

You whimper, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Yeah, I know you like that,” he flicks your nipple, watching with dangerous attention as your body seizes up. “Always could smell you gettin’ wet when I’d tell you what to do. Drove me out of my mind, you got no idea.”

You think you’ve got some idea. His grip on your hands is tight like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together, and his every muscle is rippling with restraint. You let out a low, soft whine of his name, and Bucky makes that deep, hungry sound again.

“This pussy,” he mutters, dragging his hands back down your body, cupping your pussy and grinding the palm of his hand against your clit. “It’s mine, isn’t it, doll.”

“Ye- Yes,” you whisper. “It’s yours, James- Please.”

Bucky grins, hooking two metal fingers around the ruined fabric, knuckles bumping against your needy pussy, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Damn right it is.”

He rips your underwear off in one motion, and you don’t even get a second to adjust to the feeling before Bucky’s shoving his ring finger straight into your cunt, pressing his thumb down over your sensitive clit. You make an embarrassingly loud sound, almost bucking off the bed, but the metal hand is impossibly strong. He pushes you back down, crooking his finger deep inside of you, and laughs when your eyes roll back in your head.

“Come on, doll. Eyes on me,” he pumps his finger once, twice, the slaps your sensitive cunt before shoving his hand back in. “Eyes on me.”

You force your eyes to open back up, locking onto his as you try to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. It’s just one finger. One thick, massive, metal finger that you can feel straight through your core and to your toes. The cold makes every sensation starker. Bucky’s forced eye contact makes you feel raw and exposed, like a meal he’s about to savor.

“Good girl,” he coos, pulling that finger almost fully out, swirling his thumb around your clit, and pushing it back in.

“Buckyyyy-“ You moan, lashes fluttering as he bumps right against that gooey spot deep inside of you. “Don’t- Don’t tease-“

“I’m not teasin’,” he leans over you, his hand picking up the pace. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby. You can do it.”

You try. God you try. Bucky fucks his finger into you like a machine, reangling his hand so the metal palm is slapping against your clit, working you open more and more and more until you’re whimpering and unravelling beneath him. It’s so overwhelming, you’re almost forgetting to breathe. You strain against his hold on your hands, but it’s hopeless, and you just end up wiggling below him, tits bouncing in his face.

Bucky groans at the sight of you, his hips jerking and cock dragging against your sensitive inner thigh, but he doesn’t slow down or offer you another kiss. He just keeps you pinned beneath him, drawling out praise and mocking words, shoving in a second finger when the first starts to slip in and out too easy.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he rasps, eyes burning against yours. “Bet my cock is gonna slide right in, doll. Made to take me like the pretty slut you are.”

You moan again, every last bit of dignity slipping through your trapped fingers. The eye contact makes it too intense, and the second finger is bullying you open just right, offering a little extra pressure against your sensitive g-spot. Bucky’s eyes flash, when a tiny, hitched noise leaves your throat, and presses down harder.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” he mutters, watching every twitch of your face, every flutter of your wet lashes like some kind of incubus sex-hawk. “There’s the spot, baby. Feels so good, I know you want to cum.”

You whimper, nodding desperately. Bucky grinds his hard palm against your over-stimulated clit, and your think you’re going to explode.

“It’s alright, babydoll,” he coos. “Let go.”

Your orgasm snaps through you like a rocket, ripping every nerve of your body and making your vision go white. You thrash and scream as you pussy gushes and clenches, your eyes still unable to leave Bucky’s. His jaw is hanging open, his face lust-drunk and predatory, and it just makes your orgasm crest higher. You think he could shove his whole arm in you and you’d be able to take it, with how he’s unraveled.

If the size of his cock in his pants is any indication of what’s coming. That’s for far better than worse.

You’re trembling when you come down, tears streaming down your cheek and broken mewls escaping your lips. Bucky leans down slowly, kissing your cheek, then your closed eyes, then your open mouth.

“You’re doin’ so well, baby,” he murmurs, letting your wrist go so he can cup your jaw. “Gonna fuck you so good, my sweet girl.”

You make a pathetic, eager sound, and Bucky’s faint smile ghosts over your lips. He leans back up, his thumb dragging against a hickey he left on your neck, and his shoulders shake.

“No idea,” he mutters. “No fuckin’ clue what you do to me.”

He pulls a little further back, tugging down his sweats, and you squeak at the sight of him. You didn’t think dicks could actually look like that without steroids or surgery or something. Thick and veiny, a good amount of hair cropped around heavy balls, his thick, angry head twitching as he fists himself and drags his thumb over his slit.

You look up at him, almost drooling. “You- You’re-“

“Big?” He teases, and you try to scowl, but it’s more of a pout.

“Shut up,” you whine, and he laughs, crawling slowly over your limp body.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bucky leans down, kissing you like you’re not both sex-addled, ruined wrecks of people. It’s the kiss you imagined when he would be a knight, and you’d be a princess, and he’d sweep you off your feet in your dreams. Slow and loving, more of an oath than an act of need. Trying to say things neither of you know how to articulate with words. You reach up, cradling Bucky’s face between your hands, and he lets out a shuddering breath, muttering your name.

“I’m not gonna be gentle,” he warns, and you smile against his lips.

“Yay.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but kisses you again, holding onto that soft, honey-sweet moment. His cock rubs between the lips of your pussy, and your breath catches.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, and it’s not a joke anymore. He’s nudging against your entrance, and a sting is already building back up behind your eyes. 

“I know,” Bucky mutters, kissing away your tears. “But you can take it, doll. Know you can.”

You nod, letting Bucky kiss you into the mattress. He’s holding you down with the weight of his hips, stopping you from squirming or crawling away as he nudges in the first inch.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans. “So tight, doll, shit-“

Another inch, and you’re struggling for air. The stretch burns in the best possible way, making your head spin and your mouth hang, agape and useless. Bucky kisses your open lips like he can’t help himself, and you can feel his control already slipping as he groans, pushing a little more inside.

His thumb fumbles to find your clit, rubbing tight circles, easing you further and further open. Bucky moans when he bottoms out, his whole body tensed as he tries to hold himself still, giving you time to adjust.

Your eyes cross, and your toes curl, and slowly the pain shifts into a warm, desperate pleasure.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You whisper, scratching at his back. “Move, please.”

He grunts, and pulls his hips fully out before driving them slowly back in. You moan, and he grabs your jaw, forcing his mouth back over yours.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts against your lips, repeating the long, torturous motion. “Sweet fuckin’ doll, gonna milk this cock, aren’t you. Let me fuck you however I want.”

You mewl and nod, a molten puddle in Bucky’s arms. The sheets are long tossed to the ground, so you grab his bicep, blinking up at him with needy, pathetic doe eyes. Bucky groans, his pace picking up slightly.

“That’s right,” he grunts, finding an angle that makes him bully your g-spot, a rhythm that pushes broken moans out of your throat. “So sensitive, gorgeous when you cry for me, shit-“

Bucky groans, pressing down to kiss you, all bruising force and spit. You let him, unable to think outside of the consuming way he’s around you, the brutal split of his cock inside your abused pussy.

He’s fucking you so that the bed creaks, so that everything feels floaty and light and impossibly good. His abdomen presses against your clit and his dick hits every good spot inside of you, rearranging your guts and turning you into pure putty.  It’s embarrassing, how quickly you’re getting to the edge again. Bucky notices, and doubles down, slamming his hips down just a little harder.

“Like that, baby?” He grunts, watching your slack, cockdrunk expression. “Like bein’ fucked like this? Wanna soak my cock, show me how fuckin’ good it feels?”

You nod, another wrecked noise escaping your throat. Bucky snakes his metal hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in small, tight circles.

“Again, doll, cum on this dick,” he spanks your clit, then goes back to the circle. “Cum for me-“

You shatter with a cry of Bucky’s name, pussy clenching and fluttering, body arching off the mattress. Bucky groans and doubles over, pressing his face between your breasts and mouthing at them like an animal. Your hands shoot into his hair as you try to hold onto something, your orgasm just cresting higher and higher as Bucky keeps fucking into you. You can feel his cock pulsing inside of you, his shallow thrusts desperate and uncontrolled, his moans vibrating against your skin and making your whole body twitch.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You sob with pleasure, pressing his face further into your body. “Fuck- James- Oh my god-“

Your orgasm doesn’t seem to be settling. It just builds higher and higher as Bucky keeps fucking into you, desperate and rough. You rock beneath him, overstimulated and dazed, and his wraps his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard as his thrusts start to get jagged.

You pet his head with trembling fingers, gasping every word with a hoarse voice. “Come on, James, pleaseee-“

Bucky moans your name, and crashes back up to your lips as he slams home, and cums deep inside your cunt.

There’s so much of him. He kisses you with tongue and long moans, and you’re barely even able to return the affection as he empties himself into your warm cunt. You can feel him in your throat, in the tips of your fingers, almost bursting out of your tummy and seeping through your pussy lips. Bucky fucks you through his orgasm, slower and slower with every thrust, panting against your lips. You clench around him and he buries himself back in with a grunt, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up into his lap.

You kiss his slowly, everything a little bit of a haze as you finally float back down from your long orgasm. Bucky kisses all over your face as the last of him spills inside of you, then presses his face against your neck, letting out a shaky breath.

His tongue flicks against another one of those bruises he left, and you shiver.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and you hum, leaning your cheek against the side of his head.

“’S okay.”

Bucky sighs, leaning back to meet your hooded, starry eyes. You’ve never been so exhausted, but fuck, you don’t care. You’ve also never felt so close to someone. To Bucky. You never want to let go.

“That’s gonna hurt in the morning,” he mutters, and you’re not even sure which part he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter, so you just shrug.

“Worth it.”

Bucky swallows, glancing down at your lips. Like he’s suddenly not allowed to just kiss you.

You lean forward for him, and he immediately melts over you. You smile into the kiss, curling into his chest, and he lets out a low, rough groan. You should probably get off the bed soon. Neither of you are going to be able to sleep in it now. But you really don’t care. If you could, you’d just stay here forever.

Bucky leans back, tracing his thumb over the corner of your mouth. He’s looking at you like you’re a dream. You hope he thinks you’re looking at him the same way.

“Might be a little late,” he rasps. “But can I get you dinner?”

You giggle, and nod. Bucky’s shoulders sag.

“Thank god,” he mutters, leaning back in for another kiss. “Got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, doll. Really.”

You hum, and just kiss him back. You’ll show him that you know exactly how long later, because you’ve been waiting even longer. For now, you just let him kiss you. You’re going to have all the time in the world, to ruin other beds. You don’t want to waste a single second of his heat and ease in this one. Finally, in Bucky’s arms.

✦End note: it can't believe i've never done this trope before it's amazing i love it here✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

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The smell of cigarette smoke curls around writhing bodies, and you move carefully across the crowd, eyes adjusting and trying to spot the next source of fuel for your system. In the middle of a bass drop, with people sweating through alcohol and drugs, is when you finally spot him, tall, brooding, dark hair slightly ruffled, all dressed in black, moving like a man on a mission.

Actually, not like. He is on a mission. Centuries of immortality have made certain impossible to forget, and Bucky Barnes carries one of those, so you recognize him immediately, just as fast as you recognize the way he moves through the club, tactical awareness written in every step. It’s not entirely surprising to find someone like him here. Vampires have long stepped into public view, and their preferred hunting grounds became hot spots for all sorts of law enforcers or armed forces, always looking for something taking a wrong turn.

Drawn to the quiet strength that radiates from him, you approach through the throng, silk dress clinging to every curve in the humid heat. Your fingers brush his flesh wrist when you stop next to him and he all but jumps, body locking in, before you lean over and your voice weaves supernatural compulsion.

“Come,” you whisper, pulling him by the jacket and dragging him to a shadowed alcove away from prying eyes. There is barely any resistance, at first; your cool lips graze the strong column of his neck, fangs teasing the rapid pulse while the influence of your single word urges him to bare his vein to you and surrender. You inhale once, eyes closing as you ready yourself to sink your teeth into the source of sustenance, but the moment breaks when his metal hand pushes against your chest and pulls you just enough away that you are forced to meet his eyes.

Brows furrowing in confusion, you tilt your head as your eyes darken slightly. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” you say, voice silvery, trying once more to bend his mind just enough to make him pliant. He doesn’t move.

“That doesn’t work on me,” he murmurs. While resisting compulsion isn’t entirely unheard of, it’s rare enough to stagger you in the spot. However, what surprises you most is how he isn’t trying to run from you. How he isn’t trying to hurt you. His metal fingers move from your chest and instead drop to your waist, tugging you closer until you can see the vein of his neck throbbing under the skin once more. “But if you want to bite me, you can just ask.”

Hunger sharpens inside you at the resistance, only making the soldier more intoxicating. You lean over, lips brushing his jaw as your bodies press flush in the narrow dark corner. “Do you want me to say please?” You reply, words slipping out laced with amusement. “You might be in bad luck. Begging doesn’t suit me.” Fingers soon tangled in his dark hair, you guide his head to the side and let your fangs finally sink deep into his warm skin. Rich blood floods your mouth in a rush, carrying a sweet tang, the exact taste you had expected the moment you smelled him for the first time. You drink until you feel dizzy with pleasure, your hunger sated for the time being.

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He pushed the door open a little wider with his shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose, and the sight hit him like a truck.

You were on the floor.

Legs splayed, one knee twisted at a weird angle, that thin white cover-up clinging to your skin thanks to the humidity and doing exactly zero to hide the tiny bikini underneath.

His gaze flicked down, then up, then anywhere that wasn’t you, but it was useless. The way the bikini bottoms sat low on your hips. The cover-up slipping off one shoulder. The sunscreen is still shiny on your thigh. He felt heat crawl up the back of his neck, felt his glasses fog slightly at the edges because apparently his body had decided this was the moment to overheat.

“Are—are you okay?” The words came out gravelly, like he’d just swallowed a handful of sand. He hovered in the doorway, one hand still gripping the frame.

You looked up at him, lips parted in that sheepish little smile. “Yeah,” you said with a soft, embarrassed laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just slipped on sunscreen like an absolute genius.”

Dex swallowed hard. He should leave. He should turn around right now and go back to his room and pretend he hadn’t seen any of this. But his feet were glued. And you were still sitting there, looking up at him with those eyes, cover-up slipping further down your arm, and every single fantasy he’d ever tried to bury came roaring back in high definition.

He took one careful step closer, then another, until he was crouched beside you. His hand hovered for a second before his fingers brushed your elbow. The skin there was warm, still a little slick from lotion, and the contact sent a jolt straight through him.

“Here—let me…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. “C-can I help you up?”

You nodded, still wearing that small, knowing smile, and when you slipped your hand into his, Dex felt it in his ribs, his stomach, everywhere. He pulled you to your feet a little too quickly, until you were standing right there, inches away. The sheer fabric brushed against his hoodie. The smell of strawberries filled the space between you.

“You… you should probably lather up on the couch,” he managed, voice low and rough. “Sitting down to avoid…slipping.”

“That’s actually a really smart idea,” you said, laughing softly, that same knowing smile still in place as you let go of his hand. You stepped past him toward the hallway.

Dex inhaled sharply before he could stop himself. Your hair swung close and that strawberry scent hit him full force again. His eyes actually rolled back for half a second, lashes fluttering. God. He was pathetic. Completely, irreversibly pathetic.

He followed you down the hall at a careful distance, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets so you wouldn’t see them shaking, eyes locked on the floor.

“You heading to the beach today?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He’d watched you check the weather app three separate times during dinner. He knew your plans better than his own.

You glanced back over your shoulder with a little shrug. “Nah, just the rooftop pool.”

Dex rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look surprised. “R-right. I forgot the apartment even had a pool…”

You dropped onto the couch and gave him that sweet little “Mm-hm.”

“Well,” he said, already taking a jerky step back toward the hallway, “I’ll be in my room if you need anyth—”

“Actually…”

Your voice stopped him cold. Dex turned halfway around. You were standing by the couch, sunscreen bottle in one hand, fingers playing with the tie of your cover-up.

“Can you help me put sunscreen on?” you asked, all soft and sweet. “My back’s impossible to reach and I really don’t want to burn…”

Dex’s mouth went completely dry. Every alarm in his head went off, but his feet were already carrying him toward you anyway. 

“You… you want me to—?” His voice came out cracked and embarrassingly breathy.

You tilted your head, biting your lower lip in that soft, innocent way that wiped every rational thought clean out of his skull. “Only if you’re okay with it,” you said sweetly, eyes wide and guileless. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Uncomfortable. Right.

He was already half-hard in his sweatpants, cock twitching at the mere idea of his hands on you. His glasses slid another inch down his nose.

“No—no, I don’t mind,” he blurted, then winced at how desperate he sounded. “I mean… yeah. Sure. Definitely.”

Your whole face lit up. “Thank you!” you chirped, bright and happy, and before he could brace himself you reached up and tugged the tie of the cover-up. It slipped right off your shoulders and you held it

Dex’s brain flatlined.

Holy shit.

New material, his mind supplied instantly, already filing every detail away for later. For when he was alone in his room tonight, door locked, hand wrapped tight around his cock, biting down on his wrist so you wouldn’t hear him falling apart through the thin wall. He was so unbelievably fucked.

You dropped the cover-up over the arm of the couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside you. “C’mere then.”

Dex nodded like a bobble head and lowered himself onto the couch on shaky legs, the cushions sinking under his weight. His hands trembled as he took the sunscreen from you and squeezed way too much into his palm. A thick white pool sat there like evidence of how badly he was failing at playing it cool.

He rubbed his palms together slowly, the wet sound loud in the quiet room, warming the lotion between his fingers. Then he scooted closer and placed his hands at the top of your back, right below the delicate knot of your bikini strings.

Fuck.

His thumbs pressed into your warm skin and he started rubbing careful circles, spreading the lotion down the smooth line of your spine. He was trying so hard to stay respectful, but his brain was already ten steps ahead—imagining taking the string with his teeth, tugging it loose, watching the strings fall away so he could finally see everything he’d been fantasizing about for months.

Dex’s breath caught. He kept his hands moving anyway, trying like hell not to let you feel how badly they were shaking.

“Mmm… your hands feel really good, Ben,” you said, low and a little breathy. You even used his first name, and it hit him like you knew exactly what it would do to him.

His whole body jolted.

“S-Sorry?” The word came out too loud and cracked right in the middle. His hands froze on your skin, palms pressed flat against your back, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his fingertips.

You let out a soft, knowing laugh and twisted on the couch. Before his brain could catch up, you swung one leg over his lap and straddled him. Your warm thighs settled around his hips, your ass pressing right down against the front of his sweatpants where he was already half-hard and completely hopeless.

Dex’s back hit the cushions hard, body stiff as a board. Every muscle locked up tight. His lotion-slick hands flew up in the air.

“Wh-what—you—I—What are you doing?”

You settled your full weight on his thighs, hands resting lightly on his shoulders, and smiled down at him with that sweet, wicked look that wiped every coherent thought from his head.

“You want to touch them, don’t you, Benjamin?” you asked softly, tilting your head. “I know you’ve wanted me for a long time. I see the way you look at me when I walk around in my sundresses. When I bend over to grab something. You think I don’t notice?”

Dex’s mouth opened, then closed. Words failed him for a second.

“I—I didn’t—fuck, okay I did, but I swear I wasn’t trying to be creepy— Jesus Christ you’re so pretty and I’m such a fucking loser but yes please—you can sit here forever—I’ll do anything—I’ll buy you all the sunscreen in the store—I’ll—fuck—”

His hands stayed hovering uselessly in the air, trembling, eyes wide and glassy behind his glasses as he stared up at you.

You giggled, clearly loving every second of his meltdown, and traced one finger slowly down his forehead, over the bridge of his nose, then across his bottom lip. Your fingertip caught on the way his mouth shook.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I don’t mind. I like it when you look at me like that.”

Dex’s breathing turned ragged, chest heaving under you. Every exhale fogged his glasses a little more. His cock was fully hard now, throbbing against your ass, and he was mortified and turned on beyond belief.

You slid your fingers into his brown hair, messing it up and tugged gently until his head tipped back with a shaky gasp. Then you plucked his glasses off his face and set them neatly on the couch cushion beside you.

“You’re already so hot with these on,” you murmured, brushing his hair back from his forehead, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, “but you shouldn’t hide that handsome face all the time.” You leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Can you still see me?”

Dex blinked hard. The world went soft and blurry without the lenses, but you were right there—warm, soft, and practically naked on his lap, tits inches from his mouth. His hands finally settled on your hips, thumbs brushing the edge of your bikini bottoms.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed, still panting. “I can still see you.”

“Good,” you said with another soft laugh, palms sliding down his chest, over his shoulders, feeling every tense line of him like you were marking what was yours. “Then you won’t mind taking off your hoodie right now, will you?”

Dex’s brain blue-screened, “Y-You want me to do what?”

You rocked your hips once, slow and deliberate, grinding right against the obvious bulge in his sweats. He choked on air.

“Take off your clothes, Ben.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

His voice cracked embarrassingly high. “This is a joke, right? You’re fucking with me—”

You didn’t bother answering with words. You just stood up, reached behind your neck, and pulled the bow. The knot came undone with one easy tug. The pink bikini top slipped down and you tossed it onto the couch.

Dex’s eyes went wide and inhaled sharply. “Oh my god…”

Your breasts were right there—bare, nipples already tight from the way he was staring. He couldn’t look away. His cock throbbed hard against his sweats. His hands fisted the couch cushions so tightly his knuckles went white.

You planted your hands on your hips, completely at ease. “Do you want to get off or not?”

That snapped him out of it. Dex yanked his hoodie up and over his head in one jerky motion, then stripped off the white t-shirt underneath. He sat there shirtless, and holy shit—he was ripped. Broad shoulders, defined chest, abs flexing with every shaky breath, that sharp V-line disappearing into his low-slung sweats.

You drank him in like you’d been waiting years for this exact reveal, eyes darkening, lips parting. A slow, hungry smile curved your mouth, like you’d always known the shy, glasses-wearing roommate was secretly built like that under the hoodies. Like you’d been imagining peeling him open just as much as he’d been imagining you.

“Fuck, Dex,” you breathed, stepping between his spread thighs. “I knew you were hiding all that.”

Dex swallowed hard, throat bobbing. A tiny, shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He still couldn’t believe any of this was happening to him.

“What… what do you want me to do?”

You hummed, dragging your gaze over every cut line of his torso while you decided. “Why don’t you get on your knees and make me come? Then I’ll let you play with my breasts.”

His eyes blew wide, like a kid who just got told Christmas came early. “Really? You—you actually want me to—?”

You laughed, low and fond, cocking your hip. “Are you going to ask me that every single time? Yes, really. Taste me.”

Dex’s breath stuttered out in a shaky exhale. He slid off the couch in slow motion, knees hitting the floor with a soft thud. He knelt between your thighs, looking up at you with those big hazel eyes, glasses-less and wrecked. 

“I’m just… surprised you want me to,” he mumbled, adorably earnest. “I mean… me?”

You combed your fingers through his messy hair, nails scraping his scalp, and his whole body jolted like you’d shocked him. A tinybwhimper slipped out before he could swallow it.

“Well, I really need to know what that mouth feels like,” you murmured, still petting him like he was yours.

Dex’s breath hitched hard. “O-okay… okay, fuck—thank you.”

He leaned in and caught the left tie of your bikini bottoms between his teeth (exactly the way he’d just fantasized) and tugged with a desperate little groan vibrating in his throat. The knot slipped free. He moved to the right side, teeth grazing your hip bone, pulling harder this time, eyes fluttering shut as a muffled “mmph” vibrated against your skin.

The pink bottoms fluttered to the floor.

He was inches from your bare pussy, that sweet strawberry-and-you scent flooding his lungs. He looked up at you one last time, cheeks flushed.

“Fuck… you’re so pretty,” he whispered. He looked up at you so intently, those beautiful hazel eyes blazing through the haze of his glasses-less blur.

For the second time this morning his brain is lagging—this gorgeous, confident woman gripping his hair, looking at him like he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. As if he wasn’t just some awkward, hoodie-wearing loser who’d jerked off to the image of you in his head for six straight months. It couldn’t be real, could it? He was going to wake up any second, cock in his fist, alone in his cold bed again—then he lowered his lips to your pussy and he knew it was real.

The first touch was so delicately gentle, just the soft press of his open mouth, a shaky, whimpery kiss right against your folds. A savouring hum caught in his throat the second your taste hit his tongue. The sensation tore through you like lightning, and you arched hard, knees buckling with a startled cry that made his cock twitch painfully in his sweats.

“Oh wow,” you moaned breathlessly, gripping his bare shoulder. “You’re… surprisingly really good at this.”

You tried to steady yourself on one foot as he brought your other leg up, easing it over his shoulder with trembling hands. His tongue dragged flat and worshipful from your entrance to your clit, then swirled lazy, needy circles, moaning into you the whole time that vibrated straight through your core. 

“Mmmph—fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against you, voice muffled and desperate. “I don’t deserve this—mmh—so sweet, I’m sorry I’m so greedy but I can’t stop—”

He closed his mouth over your swollen clit and kissed it like it was the love of his life, lips sucking and smacking wetly, moving exactly like he was French-kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled in huge, sloppy circles, groaning loud and shameless right into you as he gripped your hips with those strong hands, yanking you harder against his face so he could grind his nose against your clit.

He pulled back just enough to stare up at you with those worshipful eyes before his tongue started flicking your clit in rapid, frantic little strokes. His gaze never left yours, drinking in every gasp and twitch like your pleasure was the only validation he’d ever need. His hips jerk pathetically against nothing, completely lost in the taste of you, groaning and begging between messy licks.

“Oh my, g-god. Dex—slide your tongue in again.”

You bucked hard towards his nose, a muffled cry slipping through your bitten lips as his tongue pushed deep inside you, thick and wet and pulsing like he was trying to fuck you with it. He groaned into your pussy, the vibration rolling straight to your clit, and your fingers twisted tighter in his messy hair. The second you yanked him closer, he let out the cutest, muffled little laugh against your soaked folds then drove his tongue even deeper, curling, licking, devouring like he’d die if he couldn’t taste every drop of you.

Dex pulled back just enough to drag in a shaky breath, lips glossy and swollen, spit and your slick shining down his chin.

“Please—fuck, please keep pulling my hair like that,” he begged. His hips still rolled helplessly against nothing, the fat outline of his cock straining obscenely against his sweats, a wet spot blooming darker where he was leaking for you. “I love it when you do—”

“Yeah?” You gave his hair a sharp tug, watching the way his whole body jolted like you’d electrocuted him. A wicked smile curved your lips. “You like it when I get a little rough?”

“Yes—yes, fuck, I love it,” he groaned, eyes fluttering.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, nails scraping possessively over his scalp again. “You’re so fucking sweet when you beg. Almost makes me want to be nice to you…” You yanked harder, and his moan cracked into a needy whimper that made his thighs shake. “…but it’s way too sexy when you fall apart like this. I also like my men strong, Benjamin. Are you strong?”

“Oh fuck—” 

He surged up from his knees without warning. Big hands grabbed your hips and spun you around with barely an effort. You barely had time to gasp before he lifted you and tossed you back onto the couch. Your back bounced against the cushions, and before you could even speak he was right there again, down on his knees between your spread legs.

His palms shoved your thighs up and back, folding you neatly in half until your knees pressed to your chest. Your pussy was completely open, glistening and dripping right in front of his face.

Dex dove back in like he’d lost his mind. His tongue dragged up to your clit, flicking and sucking with fresh, desperate hunger. Just when you started missing the stretch of him inside you, he pushed two thick fingers deep, thrusting slowly at first, then harder, curling them exactly where you needed them.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, head falling back. “You’re such a good boy—I don’t even have to tell you what to do.”

He was devouring you now. Every time he sucked your clit between his lips he made wet, filthy slurping sounds, humming deep and greedy in his throat.

“Mmmph—fuuuck,” he groaned right against your pussy, the vibration rolling straight through you. “You know this pussy owns me now, right? Owns my face. Owns my mouth.” His tongue lapped messily through your folds, slurping noisily at every drop, chin already shiny and dripping. “I could kneel here and lick you all fucking day. You’ve made such a mess out of me.”

He hummed louder, eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss, fingers pumping faster, curling hard against that spot that made your back arch clean off the couch and stars burst behind your eyelids.

Pleasure slammed through you hard enough to rip a loud cry from your throat. Dex’s tongue kept dragging those slow, filthy circles around your clit, savoring every twitch, while his fingers drove deep inside you in that steady, ruthless rhythm that had you trying to grind down on his face even though he had you folded in half.

And fuck, you thought with a dazed little smirk, it’s always the quiet ones who turn out to be absolute freaks.

“That’s it—own my face,” he whimpered desperately against your pussy, voice wrecked and needy. “Fucking own it. Come all over your good boy. Come all over your obedient little servant. That’s me. That’s all me.”

“Fuck—Dex, I’m coming,” you whispered urgently, as he rocked your hips against his face. “You’re going to make me come…”

Dex let out a groany laugh, eyes squeezing shut for a second like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Yes, give it to me,” he begged, lips trembling against your pussy. “Come in my mouth, flood my tongue, I’ll drink every fucking drop—”

His fingers drove deeper, faster, curling hard against that perfect spot while his tongue licked you quick and greedy, groaning low and filthy the whole time. He slurped and sucked like he was starving, humming desperately because you tasted so good he couldn’t get enough.

You cried out as the orgasm hit you, sharp and overwhelming. Your pussy clenched tight around his fingers, gushing all over his eager mouth and chin while he kept licking and sucking through every single pulse, moaning like he was coming right along with you.

“Oh fuck that’s it—that’s it, give me everything,” he mumbled between messy swallows, voice thick and grateful. “Fuck—thank you.”

When you finally started to come down, Dex pulled back just enough to press soft, reverent kisses to your inner thighs, lips trembling against your slick skin. He looked up and found you staring into the void, dazed and breathless, lips parted like you’d forgotten how to form words.

His hands itched. God, they fucking itched to slide up and cup those beautiful breasts but he didn’t dare move without permission. He was still your pathetic little servant, still on his knees, still terrified; this was all some cruel dream that would vanish if he got too greedy.

“Um… c-can I touch them now?” he asked, cheeks burning hot. “Please?”

That snapped you out of it. Your lips curved into a naughty little smile that made his cock twitch hard in his sweats. You sat up, cupped his chin, and tilted his flushed face up to you, thumb brushing the mess he’d made of his mouth.

“Of course you can, baby,” you said sweetly.

You pulled him up, swapped places, and pushed him back onto the couch. Then you opened his knees wide and swung a leg over to straddle his lap again. The heat of your bare pussy settled right over the massive bulge in his sweats and he whimpered, hips jerking up helplessly.

“How can I say no after you made me come like that?”

You took his shaking hands in yours and guided them slowly up your sides, over your ribs, until his palms were cupping your breasts. Dex gave them a tentative squeeze, thumbs brushing over your tight nipples.

You laughed softly, eyes sparkling. “You like them?”

He swallowed hard, throat working. “Yes,” he breathed, voice completely wrecked. “They’re… they’re perfect. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

His lips closed around one breast with a loud, wet, noisy suck. He moaned against your skin, eyes fluttering shut, tongue swirling as he pulled you deeper into his mouth.

You grinned, threading your fingers through his messy hair and holding him there while he made those shameless, hungry noises. Only then did you reach down between you and palm the thick, heavy outline of his cock through his sweats. Your eyes widened. A delighted little gasp slipped out as you felt exactly how big he was—rock-solid, fat, straining so hard the fabric was barely holding him in.

“Oh my word,” you murmured, giving him a slow, appreciative stroke that made his head fall back with a moan, your nipple still caught between his lips. “You just keep getting better and better, don’t you?”

Dex’s hips bucked hard into your hand, a pathetic little whine escaping around your breast because your touch was the first real one he’d felt in months.

You squeezed him again, loving the way his ripped abs flexed under your thighs. “No wonder you always walk like that…” Another stroke, thumb circling the wet spot at the tip until he gasped. “Poor baby’s been carrying this around the apartment every day and I never knew.”

Dex’s eyes locked on your hand, watching every lazy movement like it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. “Oh God—oh my God—fuck,” he gasped, hips twitching up into your palm without any control left. “Yeah—your hand feels so good—”

You gave him a firmer squeeze and his whole body jerked, those perfect abs clenching hard.

“Holy shit—uh—oh God. Fuck, you squeezing me like that—oh God—oh—” His head tipped all the way back, eyes half-lidded behind the blur of pleasure.

You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “Poor baby… already leaking all over my hand and I’ve barely touched you. Bet this feels a hell of a lot better than fucking your own fist thinking about me every night, doesn’t it?”

Dex’s whole body jolted. His eyes flew open, wide and stunned. His breath hitched while a shy, embarrassed little laugh caught in his throat as he stared at you like you’d just punched him in the chest with pure affection.

“Oh, it’s just… no one’s ever, uh, talked to me like this before,” he stammered, flashing that sheepish little smile that made your chest do something stupid. “No one’s ever said stuff like that to me. I—I’m sorry, I sound so stupid, I just—fuck, keep talking to me like that, please? God, it’s so hot I don’t know what to do with myself—”

You smiled against his ear and gave the shell a soft, wicked nibble that made his hips jerk again. “Well then,” you whispered, “has no one ever played with this fat cock the way I’m gonna?”

Dex opened his mouth to answer, but the words died the second your hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats. Your fingers wrapped around his bare, throbbing length and gave one long, slow stroke from base to tip.

“You’re so… Mm—you’re so—fuck—” His sentence crumbled. He tried to keep going, tried to tell you how no one had ever touched him like this, how he’d jerked off in the shower every single morning just so he wouldn’t walk around the apartment hard for you, but every drag of your hand wiped his brain clean. “I was gonna say—I mean—no one’s—Jesus Christ your hand is so soft—I can’t—I can’t even think when you—mmph—”

His head fell back against the couch while he kept trying anyway, lips moving, desperate to finish a single coherent thought, but every slow pump of your fist stole another piece of him. His abs clenched, thighs shaking under you, cock twitching hard in your grip as you stroked him nice and luxurious, spreading all that pre-cum until the wet sounds filled the room.

“I’ve never—no one’s ever touched me like—fuck, like that—slow—oh my god, please don’t stop, I sound so pathetic but I— I’ve dreamed about your hand—every night—and it’s so much better—I can’t—I can’t even finish a—fuck—”

You watched him with adoration in your eyes,  tilting your head and shut him up with your lips, kissing him so eagerly it stole the rest of his broken sentence right out of his mouth.

You swallowed it instantly, tongue sliding past his lips like you already owned every sound he made. He tried to kiss you back, clumsy and desperate, but you took control so completely that all he could do was whimper into your mouth while you explored him with strokes of your tongue that promised exactly what that same mouth could do somewhere much lower.

“Mm—fuck—mmph—” he tried again, the words vibrating against your lips, but you just kissed him deeper, twisting your wrist on the upstroke until his whole body jerked and another moan spilled straight into your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to reach for his glasses on the cushion beside you. With gentle fingers you slid them back onto his face.

“There,” you murmured, sweet as sugar. “I think you need to see me suck this dick in high definition.”

Dex blinked hard behind the lenses, the world snapping back into sharp, perfect focus around your wicked little smile. Before he could even try to form words, you slid off his lap, dropped to your knees between his spread thighs, and settled in. 

He watched, completely helpless and shaking, as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and boxers and dragged them down his hips in one smooth tug. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, and your fingers curled right around the base.

Dex’s hands flew up to cover his face, glasses knocked crooked. A muffled, delirious little laugh slipped out between his palms. “Fuck… I’m the luckiest man alive right now.”

You gave his cock a slow, appreciative stroke, then looked up at him with that firm, commanding glint in your eyes. “Look at me, Ben. Never take your eyes off me. Got it?”

Dex nodded so fast his glasses slipped down his nose again, eyes wide behind them, locked on your face like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. 

You leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the flushed, leaking head of his cock. Then lower. And lower. Before you smacked the heavy length against your cheek with deliberate, filthy slaps.

“God, you’re so heavy,” you teased, rubbing the thick shaft along your cheek while your eyes stayed glued to his. “How the hell do you think this is supposed to fit anywhere, huh? You’re gonna have to split me open, aren’t you?”

Dex let out a long, wrecked groan, thighs trembling on either side of you. He couldn’t look away. Not when you stuck your tongue out flat, laid his cock across it, and started smacking the shaft against the warm, wet muscle in solid, teasing taps.

He was going to die. He was actually going to die right here on the couch with his glasses on and your pretty mouth teasing the absolute hell out of him, and he’d thank you for it with his last breath.

“G-go choke on it first,” he blurted in a sudden rush of bravery, then immediately looked mortified. “I-I mean… if you want to…”

Your eyebrow snapped up, a wicked little grin spreading across your face as you nodded like you were proud of him for saying that.

Dex’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard he felt dizzy.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing the leaking tip as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Is that what you fantasize about when you jerk off in your room at night?” you purred. “Me choking on this fat cock? Gagging all pretty for you while you watch?”

Dex’s mouth fell open, hips twitching helplessly toward your face. “Y-yes—fuck, yes. Every night. Every single night—”

You didn’t let him finish.

The second the words left his lips you took the head of his cock into your mouth, and Dex gasped so hard it felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs.

It was too much. Too good. Velvety and hot and so fucking lucious that his whole spine lit up like a live wire. A strangled groan left him as pleasure streaked through every nerve ending at once. His hands flew to the couch cushions, knuckles white, because if he didn’t hold on he’d probably float straight out of his body.

You sank down slowly, taking more of him, tongue pressed flat underneath as your lips stretched tight around his thickness. Dex’s glasses fogged at the edges. His abs clenched hard, thighs shaking on either side of you.

You licked your way back up to the head, suctioning hard, then swirled your tongue over it, dipping into the slit to taste the steady leak of pre-cum like you were savoring him. Dex’s head fell back for half a second before he remembered your order and forced his eyes back down to you, chest heaving.

God. How many times had he imagined you on your knees just like this; sucking him slow and deep while you looked up at him with those pretty eyes?

Every single one of those fantasies paled. They were pathetic little shadows compared to the reality of you. The intense, electrifying heat that scorched every nerve ending as you lowered yourself again, sliding your sweet, wet mouth further down his shaft until he felt the back of your throat flutter around him. His hips jerked involuntarily, a choked “f-fuck—” ripping out of him before he could stop it.

Pleasure surged through him and he arched back sharply, the feeling so intense he nearly yanked out of your mouth. But he rode those waves, blood pounding hot through his veins as his cock throbbed with incredible bliss. You sucked him hard and sensually, lips stretched tight around him and cheeks hollowing as you milked more ecstasy from him than he'd ever felt in his life.

When you came back up you let him go with a wet pop and smiled up at him, eyes sparkling like you were enjoying the hell out of wrecking him. Your smile made his cock throb and jerk, and you chased it with your tongue and laughed, taking it back in with that delicious, silky warmth.

“Just like that—” Dex moaned, voice tight with ecstasy. He slid one hand into your hair, caressing first, then gripping the back of your neck like he needed something solid to hold onto. 

“It feels so good holy shit.” he breathed as you gradually increased your pace. You wrapped both hands around the base of his cock and started stroking in time with your mouth, faster now. Dex’s head dropped back against the couch again before dragging his gaze back down. He couldn’t miss this. Not for a single second.

His hand gently cradled and guided your head, fingers weaving through your hair as the overwhelming desire to lock you in place and thrust into your mouth consumed him. 

His free hand joined the first, sinking in and tightening his hold as the raw sensuality left him dizzy and breathless. He started rocking his hips slowly, testing, mesmerized by the way your eyes fluttered as you took him deeper.

But then you smiled around his cock and sucked harder. That was all it took.

Dex drove in faster, deeper, his cock slick and shiny with your spit as he thrust up your throat. You took him beautifully—until he forced just a little too far. Your throat fluttered, then clenched like a fist as you choked, the sloppy, gagging buzz shooting down his entire cock.

He froze for a second, glasses slipping down his nose, panic and lust warring on his face. 

“S-sorry—fuck, that’s so hot, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but don’t stop—please don’t stop—” He was panting, glasses fogged, hips still rocking again and again, savoring the way your throat squeezed every time you gagged softly around him. He couldn’t help it even while apologizing. 

You just hummed around him like you owned every inch, eyes watering but never breaking that locked-in stare, taking him even deeper on the next thrust, letting him fuck your throat raw. 

He was going to come. God dammit, he was going to explode like a firework in your mouth any second now.

But nope. You pulled off with a wet, filthy pop, lips shiny and puffy, a shiny string of spit still linking you to his throbbing tip like a naughty little bridge.

“W-why’d you stop?” he blurted, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Did I—did I do something wrong? Fuck, I’m sorry, I got carried away, I just— I was so close.”

You shook your head, flashing that wicked little grin as you crawled straight up his body and swung a leg over, straddling his lap like you were claiming the throne. One hand cupped those full, heavy, aching balls, rolling them nice and slow while you dragged your soaked pussy along the underside of his cock, slicking him up marking your territory.

“I’m not wasting a single drop of this,” you whispered, all husky and low, thumb stroking that crazy-sensitive spot right behind his balls. “You’re spilling every bit inside me.”

Dex looked like his brain had officially powered off. “I-inside you? Holy shit—aren’t you scared you might—?”

You chuckled and ground down harder, sliding all over him like you owned the ride. “Got any condoms stashed somewhere, cutie?” you asked, all innocent and sweet while your hips kept rolling.

Dex just gaped, fish-mouthed and speechless. “....no.”

You let out a bright, delighted little laugh and climbed off his lap, “Guess we’re doing this raw then, huh?” You flopped onto your back on the couch, hair fanning out across the cushions, and hooked your knees up high, feet planted on the edge.

With zero shame, you reached down and spread yourself open for him, two fingers parting your slick, puffy folds so he could see everything. Your little hole clenched visibly under his stare, shiny and dripping from how much you’d enjoyed choking on him.

“Look at what you did to me, Benjamin,” you purred. “See how fucking wet I am? It’s because of you. My poor little pussy’s been clenching around nothing the whole time I was sucking you off, just thinking about how you’re finally gonna stuff me full.”

Dex made a strangled noise, eyes glued to the way your fingers teased your entrance, dipping just the tip of one inside before pulling back to circle your clit. You were so ready and glistening and open for him it hurt.

“Mmm, you like the view, don’t you?” you teased, tilting your hips up a little more so he could see even deeper. “Look how this little hole keeps fluttering. It’s so empty, Dex. Been waiting months for this fat cock to stretch it open. You gonna give it to me? Gonna give me all that cum you’ve been saving for me every night? Or are you just gonna sit there staring like a cute little pervert while I play with myself?”

Dex’s glasses slipped down his nose again, “No, I’m going to give you anything you want.”

You just grinned wider, “Then come here and take what’s yours, nerd.”

He scrambled between your spread thighs like a man on a mission and a panic attack at the same time, knees sinking into the couch cushions. His hands shook as he gripped the backs of your thighs, lining himself up. The fat head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance and he actually whimpered at how hot and wet you felt.

“Okay, okay. Look, I’ll just… m-maybe, maybe you should be on top, you know?” he blurted. “S-so you’re, um… yeah, so y-you can, like, control it? I don’t wanna hurt—”

You laughed softly, reaching up to tug him closer by the back of his neck. “It’s fine, Dex.”

“I don’t—I don’t wanna squish you—” he tried again, eyes wide behind his glasses, cock throbbing against your pussy like it had a mind of its own.

You laughed, low and fond. “Just go, Dex.”

“Just go,” he echoed, half-laughing, half-panicking. “Yeah, just… uh. Uh. Uh. Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

The head slipped inside you, stretching you open in one smooth glide. Dex’s eyes dropped to where your bodies met and he forgot how to breathe entirely. You threw your head back and moaned as your pussy parted for him, taking every thick inch until he was buried to the hilt, heavy balls pressed against your ass.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “I’m inside you—you feel so fucking good.”

He pulled back slowly, and your pussy clenched around him like it didn’t want to let him go. Then he drove back in until his tip met a dead end, stretching you open all over again. You grabbed his right wrist and slapped his big palm straight onto your breast. His fingers squeezed hard on instinct. At the same time you caught his left hand and pressed his thumb against your bottom lip. 

The second he felt the wet heat of your mouth close around it, Dex’s eyes flew open wide behind his glasses. You sucked on his thumb like it was his cock, matching every thrust, moaning around it shamelessly.

“Jesus Christ,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “You’re—fuck, look at you. I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that, baby. I swear I’m trying but you feel too good and you’re sucking on my thumb and I—oh my god—”

You just smiled around his thumb and sucked harder, never breaking eye contact, letting him feel exactly how much you wanted every desperate, awkward, perfect inch of him.

Dex couldn’t stop staring down between your bodies. His thick cock was sliding in and out of your pussy in these dragging strokes, shiny and glistening with how wet you were. Every time he pulled back he could see the way your folds stretched around him, clinging tight, and every time he pushed back in he watched himself disappear inside you until his hips met yours. He was completely obsessed with the sight, breathing hard through his mouth like he’d never seen anything so hot in his life.

Without thinking he slid his hand down from your breast and pressed the heel of his palm firmly against your lower stomach, right above where he was buried deep. The sudden pressure made everything feel impossibly tighter. You whined loud around his thumb, the sound vibrating against his skin as your pussy fluttered hard around his cock.

“Fuck—did that feel good?” he panted, eyes still glued to the spot where you were joined, pressing down a little harder as he thrusts.

As if guided by that lust alone, he began to thrust into a deep, forceful rhythm, his rigid cock stretching you each time. You moaned hummingly with each stroke, feeling the power of his hips as they slapped against you, imagining the strong muscles of his thighs flexing and straining to drive his cock into you deeper and harder every time. He crashed against you, his short breaths matching his pace, his moans of pleasure spiking as senseless words spilled from his lips.

You pulled his thumb from your mouth with a wet pop, grabbed his wrist again, and swapped it for the two fingers he'd buried inside you earlier, sucking it until your cheeks hollow.

Dex’s rhythm faltered for half a second, then slammed back in even harder.

“Holy shit I don't think I can’t take it,” he panted, voice cracking high and desperate. “I can’t take it. Ugh, you have to come soon. You have to come soon. Oh, fuck—”

He was panting and groaning as he thrust and bucked, hips snapping forward like he was chasing something he couldn’t quite catch. His eyes brightened with this wild, pleasure-pain look you’d never seen before; glassy, almost frantic, like he was right on the razor’s edge and hanging on by a thread. His glasses were crooked, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth open on every broken moan.

“I’m so close— I’m so fucking close but I need you to come first, please, I need to feel you coming on my cock before I fill you up, I can’t— I can’t hold it— fuck, please come for me—”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his cock swelled even thicker inside you, the way his thrusts turned sloppy and urgent. He needed your release, your surrender, and he would detonate the second you gave it to him.

You reached up, grabbed his face with both hands, and pulled him down so your foreheads touched. “You can take it—keep going,” you gasped, voice shaky but firm. “Put your mouth on my neck, baby—right now.”

He obeyed instantly like the good, desperate boy he was. A quiet, “o-okay—yeah, fuck, okay” tumbled out of him as he dipped his head. You gasped and swallowed hard, tilting your chin back to give him more room, your whole body shaking with the force of every thrust. One of your hands slid between your bodies so you could rub tight, frantic circles over your clit, chasing that last spark.

Dex’s lips found your throat first, kissing the throbbing pulse there, then his tongue dragged up the side of your neck in one long, wet stripe. When it danced along the shell of your earlobe you shivered hard, a full-body tremble that made your pussy clench around him. And when he dipped the tip of his tongue right inside your ear you sobbed.

“F-fuck, I love it when you moan like that.” he whimpered against your ear.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged, forcing his mouth back to your neck while your fingers kept rubbing faster. “Say dirty things to me, Dex,” you panted, voice husky. “Tell me how good I feel. Tell me what you’re gonna do when you come inside me. Don’t stop talking.”

“Yeah—fuck, I’m trying,” Dex panted against your skin, hips snapping forward in these desperate little thrusts. “If I talk to you, you’ll come, right? Yeah? I want that. I want you to come so fucking bad—”

You nodded hard. “Yes—fuck, yes! Just say all the nasty shit you say to yourself when you jerk off thinking about me.”

“Fuck, listen to you,” he groaned, suddenly finding his rhythm. “Sucking my cock earlier like you wanted to steal my soul, choking on it like a greedy little whore, and now you’re begging me to pump you full?” He slammed into you hard. “You want this fat load in your pussy that bad?” Another brutal thrust. “After months of prancing around in those tiny dresses, bending over right in front of me just to watch me lose my goddamn mind?” Slam. 

“God, you’re such a dirty fucking slut for your nerdy roommate’s cock, aren’t you?” He licked into your ear, hips pounding harder. “That’s it—rub that clit faster, baby. I’m gonna flood this sloppy little cunt until it’s dripping down your thighs. Come on my cock—come on, come on—”

“Oh fuck—Dex!” Your whole body seized in a convulsive orgasm, pussy clamping down around him, milking his cock as you screamed against his shoulder. 

He cried out and flooded into you, bucking and thrusting as your pussy drained him. Slick with sweat you writhed together, your voices echoing through the room, your cries and moans mingling as you milked him, drained him, sucked every drop of cum from his pulsing cock as he emptied himself into you completely.

His rhythm finally gave out and he melted into you, still shuddering deep inside while the last of his cum spilled free. Every twitch was met with your walls hugging him tight, like they were determined to wring him dry and keep him forever—the same way you’d just been completely his. Both of you panting hard, bodies flushed and shiny with sweat, you lay there pressed together, still connected, floating in that beautiful, ageless after-sex haze.

You were heaving, chest rising and falling under him. “Holy shit…”

Dex lifted up on shaky arms, glasses crooked, hair a sweaty mess, and gazed down at you like you’d personally hung the moon. His hazel eyes were soft and dazed and so full of wonder it made your chest ache. He leaned in slowly, lips parting like he was about to kiss you for real this time—

—and then the unmistakable sound of a key sliding into the front door lock echoed through the apartment.

Both of you froze.

“Shit—shitshitshit—” Dex whisper-yelled, scrambling off you so fast he nearly fell off the couch. While you both snatched up whatever clothes you could reach.

“My room—now!” You hissed, dragging Dex who is clutching his sweats and hoodie like a lifeline as you yanked behind you as fast as your shaky legs would go. Your room was closest and didn’t face the front door—thank god.

You barely made it inside, slamming the door behind you just as the living room lights flicked on. Dex pressed himself flat against the wall right behind the door, stark naked, cock still half-hard and glistening, one hand clamped over his mouth so he wouldn’t breathe too loud. 

You snatched your short silk robe off the chair and threw it on, barely tying it before—

Knock knock knock.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long?” your roommate called through the door, voice bright and clueless. “We’re all waiting for you at the pool!”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal and failing spectacularly. “Sorry! Couldn’t find my swimwear. I’ll be there in a sec!”

Dex’s eyes were huge behind his glasses. He looked like he was one second from passing out.

You heard her footsteps start to retreat...then stop, “Uh… your bikini top is literally on the couch out here.”

“Oh really?” you called back, somehow managing to sound breezy even though you were standing there in nothing but a barely-tied silk robe with your very naked, very well-fucked roommate hiding behind the door. “I must’ve dropped it. I’ll grab it soon! You should go ahead, I won’t be long!”

You heard your roommate laugh under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like "okay weirdo.” before her footsteps finally padded away down the hall. The front door clicked shut behind her.

Dex let out a huge, shaky breath, shoulders sagging like the weight of the entire universe had just lifted off him.

“You… you should go,” he mumbled, voice all hoarse and uncertain as he rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re waiting for you at the pool and I— I don’t wanna get them suspicious of you or anything…”

You didn’t answer with words.

Instead, you walked straight up to him, rose onto your highest tiptoes, and pressed your body flush against his. The thin silk robe did almost nothing to separate your skin from his.

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him once—soft and sweet, tasting the leftover desperation on his lips. Then again, a little slower. And a third time, lingering like you were promising more.

When you finally pulled back just enough to speak, your lips still brushed his.