Mickimoo

After a lot of deliberation, you'd decided to brave a trip to the doctor's office, deciding you were ready to take a big step in your personal life.

Doctor Kemp had taken over your local doctors clinic a few years ago and you felt content under his care.

He was always friendly with you, making you feel at ease with your issues and you had confided in him about almost everything. You knew that today's conversation would only be okay because of him, despite how nervous you were.

You entered the clinic with a hammering heart and shaky palms, locating a seat as far away from anyone else as possible, after a quick check in with the receptionist. You were anxious as other patients stepped in and out of the double doors for their own appointments, biting at your nails and leg bouncing as you waited. 

When your name was finally called, you scampered through the doors and along the pristine white halls to Doctor Kemp's office, knocking quickly before entering, after hearing the sound of his soft voice calling you inside.

"Good morning." He smiled at you from his seat by his computer, "Take a seat."

You smiled back shyly, flopping down in your seat so quickly that you winced on impact and immediately flushed red in embarassment. 

Doctor Kemp looked back at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes, lips turned up into that charming smile you'd come to know all too well.

"Hi Doctor Kemp." You breathed shakily as you tried to compose yourself, "Thank you for seeing me."

You placed your palms in your lap, spine ridged and stiff while Steve relaxed back in his seat.

"What can I do for you today?" He asked, steepling his hands in front of his chest, with his elbows on his knees as he appraised you.

"I uhh...well..." You uttered, scratching nervously at your forehead, "It's kind of embarrassing..."

"It's okay, you know you can tell me." He smiled softly before letting out a light chuckle, "I don't bite."

"Okay well..." You sighed, glancing around the sterile room to avoid making eye contact for too long, "I uhh....I want to get some kind of birth control."

"Oh is that right?" Steve replied with a harsh underbite to his tone.

"Yeah," You continued, oblivious to his change in demeanor, "I just don't know what kind of one to get or whatever, I was wondering if you could help."

"Forgive me sweetie, but last time we spoke you informed me you were still a virgin." He said sternly, "Is that no longer the case?"

"Oh, uhh yeah I am." You said pressing your lips together, "I'm just...preparing I guess....trying to be safe."

"You got yourself a boyfriend now?" He grumbled with a raised brow, flattening his palms on his thighs to stop them clenching into fists.

"No, yeah." You mumbled, "Uhh I dunno. Kind of. It's new."

"And things have been heating up?" Steve pressed, "Has he touched you?"

His fingers twitched against his thigh and his jaw ticked in irritation, as he watched your face blush at the question.

"Nn..no. Not exactly." You mumbled, rubbing your hands together in your lap, "But he uhhh..he asked me to touch him..so I just want to be prepared..."

Steve's shoulders relaxed and you watched as he visibly exhaled before his face softened. He reached across the space, taking your hand in his and gently running his thumb along your knuckles. 

Your friends told you their doctors were cold and uncaring, Steve wasn't like that, he was always soft with you and always made sure to touch you in such gentle caring ways, you knew you were safe with him.

"You sure you're ready sweetie?" He asked softly, watching you nibble your lower lip.

"Yeah I think so." You sighed, "I mean I'm 23 now and I've waited a long time."

"I know." He smiled, "You're such a sweet girl, so innocent."

"Yeah well...maybe I'm ready for more ya know?" You replied, unsure whether you were trying to convince Doctor Kemp or yourself, but you were fed up of the things your friends said about you, of missing out on something your friends all talked about like it was a gateway drug.

"Okay well as your doctor I guess I'll have to trust what you're saying for the mental side of being ready," Steve hummed, still holding your palm in his, "But there's still the physical."

"Physical?" You gulped, looking up at Steve's blue eyes with your doe ones, as confusion laced your brow.

"Yeah, your vagina might not be ready."  Steve replied. 

"Oh." You gasped in shock, "Really? But...I thought...the girls said.."

"You think your friends know more than me? A qualified practitioner?" Steve scoffed, dropping your hand in your lap with irritation and you felt an embarrassed flush creep up your neck.

"No. Of course not. I just..." You mumbled apologetically.

"We'll need to do an examination." He interrupted, "Make sure everything is okay."

"Right..okay...sure...yeah...." You breathed, rubbing your now sweaty palms along your trousers.

"Good girl." Steve smiled, suddenly soft again, "You wanna jump up behind the curtain, take your jeans and panties off and pop the towel over your lap. I'll be there when you're ready."

You swallowed nervously, getting to your feet and moving to the clinical bed while your hands shook at your sides. You knew you shouldn't be nervous, Steve had seen down there before, several times in fact. He made sure you had regular check ups, making sure to take pictures of your pussy to keep on his files in case anything changed, although he'd never touched you, not once, just appraised between your legs with a clinical scrutiny.

You pulled the paper feeling curtain across the space, separating you from Steve's gaze and quickly stripped your lower half, before climbing onto the hard bed and grabbing way too much paper towel to place over your exposed core.

"Ready." You gulped nervously, hands desperately pressing the paper to your body.

"Okay." Steve hummed before pulling the curtain back, making your body flinch at the sudden screeching sound, "Comfy?" 

"Mmm it's okay." You breathed with a faux smile, "I'm just nervous."

"Don't be nervous sweetheart." He smiled reassuringly, "Nothing you haven't done before. It'll be just like when you do it yourself."

"What do you mean?" You exhaled shakily as he crossed the room, collecting a pair of blue rubber gloves from a nearby drawer.

"I mean it'll only be like when you touch yourself." He replied, facing the wall with a wide smirk and a twitch in his cock that you didn't see.

"Oh..I..I never..." You mumbled nervously, swallowing harshly with wide eyes when Steve suddenly turned to face you once more.

"You've never touched yourself before?" He asked with a raised brow and a twitch in his upper lip.

"N..no..." You repeated.

"God sweetheart, you're such an angel." He almost groaned, quickly snapping the rubber of the gloves before blowing into the opening, "So sweet."

"Oh, uh thank you Doctor Kemp." You blushed, dipping your head under his gaze.

He smiled back, pulling the latex gloves over his large hands before releasing them to his wrists with a loud slap.

"Okay just relax for me sweetie." He said softly as he positioned himself near your lower half, "Bend your knees. That's it and just let your legs drop open."

You did as he asked, pulling your legs up and planting your feet flat on the bed before dropping your knees to the sides, opening yourself up for him.

"Good girl." He praised, "See. It's okay right?"

"Yeah...okay..." You breathed, feeling more secure knowing you were safe with him as you always were.

"Okay. Let's have a look at you." Steve purred, quickly ripping the toweling away from your core and tossing it haphazardly behind him, tongue darting out to run over his lower lip as he looked at your exposed cunt.

"Mmm. Good." He hummed with a nod as his head tilted to the side.

"Is....is it okay?" You asked nervously, attempting to glance down at your own pussy.

"Very beautiful sweetheart." Steve smirked back at you before slipping his gloved hands onto your thighs gently, "Let's have a little feel, see how she's doing?"

His palms slid along the inside of your thighs until you felt his fingers tickle the outer side of your pussy and you audibly gasped at the feeling, unsure if that was how you were supposed to feel when it was your doctor touching you so innocently.

Suddenly you felt his finger tip gently flick at your untouched nub before gently massaging it and you felt an unusual heat spread across your body. 

"That feel okay?" Steve purred, glancing up at your surprised eyes and mouth hanging agape.

"Mmmhmmm." You nodded with a harsh swallow as he continued his soft movements over your clit.

"Words sweetie." Steve coaxed, "Need you to tell me how it feels."

You took a deep breath, letting your head flop back against the bed so you could stare at the ceiling instead of the way Doctor Kemp was staring back at you hungrily.

"It feels g..good." You breathed, "Kinda tingly."

"Yeah?" Steve purred in response, "You're getting nice and wet."

"Is that normal?" You squeaked suddenly, worrying as you regularly felt that flush of wetness pooling down below, often finding patches of dampness in your panties and you worried that it could mean something was wrong.

"Yeah sweetie, perfectly normal." Steve smiled, "It's a good thing."

"Oh..okay...good." You breathed, shoulders relaxing slightly, although still on edge from where he was touching you.

"Now I'm gonna need you to relax sweetheart." Steve ordered softly, "Take a deep breath. Good."

You inhaled deeply and let out a squeak as you felt one of his fingers push inside of your pussy, curling upwards to stroke your inner wall as his thumb took its place on your clit to continue the stimulation there.

Your stomach tightened, more intense heat searing at your skin as sweat began dripping from your brow.

"Oh..." You gasped at the new intrusion.

"Yeah, that okay?" Steve asked and you had to swallow, reminding yourself to use your words when all your body wanted to do was writhe and mewl.

"Mm. Feels. Good." You mumbled, chest heaving up and down.

"Yeah? You got more of those tingles?" He coaxed as he continued pumping his finger inside of you, dragging the tip against your wall and rubbing over your nub in soft circles.

"Yeah and my tummy feels funny." You admitted with a shaky breath as the strange sensations kept building.

"Good, that's what's supposed to happen sweetheart." He hummed in approval, "This is all good so far."

You let out a raspy moan as he continued working your cunt with his finger, feeling yourself becoming wetter and wetter as he continued.

"God. You're so tight." Steve groaned to himself as he stared at his finger disappearing into your virgin pussy over and over, "Dunno if you're gonna be able to take two."

"Huh? Two?" You squeaked, catching the end of his sentence and lifting your head to stare at him with a small amount of fear shooting through you.

"Of my fingers sweetie?" Steve smirked as if it was completely obvious, "Need to get two in to make sure everything is all good inside."

"Oh, okay." You nodded before dropping your head back down. You were being silly, you had nothing to be scared of, Steve was a good doctor, he'd take care of you.

"Just remember to breathe sweetheart and relax." He coaxed with a hitch in his throat, barely holding himself together as his cock pressed stiff and hard against the inside of his slacks, weeping and needy.

"Okay Doctor Kemp." You whimpered as your tummy tightened further.

"Call me Steve." He rasped as he tickled the tip of his middle finger against your opening.

"Steve?" You questioned, though it came out shaky and weak.

"Mmm. Yeah sweetie." He hummed, "You call me Steve, we know each other well enough."

"Okay Steve." You whined softly before letting out a loud moan, "Ahhh!"

"Oh yeah there we go." He grinned as he pushed his middle finger into your pussy to join the other, "Doing so good sweetie, got two fingers in there."

"Oh god. I feel...funny...." You mumbled as heat spread to the tips of your ears and tingles spread across your abdomen, stomach tightening in a way you'd never experienced in your life.

"That's good sweetheart." Steve hummed happily as he sloppily fucked you with his fingers, "That's perfect, you're going to have an orgasm."

"I am?" You gasped, unable to stop yourself from wiggling and digging your fingers into the plastic feeling bed to try and ground yourself.

"Yeah. Just let it happen." He continued, pressing more firmly on your clit and slapping his palm against your core with each thrust of his fingers, "Let me help you."

"Okay Steve." You whined, back arching from the bed involuntarily like it had a mind of its own.

"That's it. Fuck you're perfect." He groaned, using his free hand to grab his cock through his slacks, squeezing it tightly, "So tight, so wet."

"Steve." You whimpered as you felt like you were about to plummet into the abyss, body overtaken with the strange but pleasurable sensations.

"Say my name baby." He grunted, "Say my name when you come on my fingers."

You felt his fingers curl inside you, pressing on a spot that had you suddenly crying his name as your vision whited and your whole body was taken over by a white hot bliss.

"Oh god. Steeveee!" You moaned with tears pooling in your eyes.

"There we go, there she is." He breathed shakily, slowing his movements to work you through the high, "Keep breathing sweetheart, you're okay."

When your body finally relaxed against the bed, shoulders slumping with exhaustion, Steve slipped his fingers from your core, settling his dry hand on your thigh.

"You okay?" He asked softly, looking over your spent body with a proud smile.

"Mmhmm." You hummed with a lazy nod, "That was...good....I liked it...was it okay?"

"It was perfect sweetie." He reassured you, "I'm just gonna have a little taste to make sure?"

"A taste?" You said, head tipping up and eyes snapping to his, seeing a dark glint in his eyes you'd never noticed before.

"Yeah, you can tell a lot by the taste?" He smirked.

You watched as he brought the creamy coated, blue latex to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the wet digits before sucking them into his mouth with a low hum.

"Mmm god." He groaned, shifting on his feet as his erection throbbed, "Fuck."

"Is it okay?" You breathed, worried by his reaction.

"Perfect. So perfect." He hummed as his eyes rolled in pleasure at the taste of your innocence.

"Okay good." You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and letting your legs drop flat onto the bed.

Steve slowly pulled his gloves off with loud snaps of rubber, before looking at you with a gleeful smile.

"Get dressed sweetheart and we'll have a chat." He grinned before stepping towards his desk and pulling the curtain across the space, as though he hadn't just seen every part of you.

"So it was all okay?" You asked as you pulled the curtain back, clothes now firmly in place as you crossed the space and carefully sat in your seat, watching his reaction with interest.

"Yes and no." He hummed with a nod as he typed something on his computer.

"What is it?" You replied as anxiety began niggling in your mind.

He let out a sigh before turning to face you, placing his hands on your knees softly.

"You're ready sweetheart but there's a small problem." He said with a serious expression that had you shifting in your seat, hands clutching each other uselessly.

"What is it?" You mumbled as fresh tears began to pool.

"Well you're so tight that it's going to be difficult for you to have sex, painful." He admitted and your eyes widened in surprise, you had never thought about the fact that someone may not be able to fit, it hadn't even crossed your mind. You internally scolded yourself for being so stupid and naive. Your friends spoke about sex like it was so easy, you should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

"Oh." You murmured, "Is there something I can take to help?"

"I think it would be best if you come back tomorrow for a longer appointment and I will pop your cherry for you. I'll be able to do it safely and with minimal pain for you." He said, brows furrowing in concentration to stop the smirk threatening to over take his face.

"You mean? Like with equipment?" You squeaked nervously, cursing yourself when you felt more wetness pooling at the thought of Doctor Kemp playing with you again.

"No sweetie, I'll do it myself, with my cock, take real good care of you." He said softly, reaching a hand up to cradle your cheek with a genuine tenderness, "Then you should be ready for other people."

"Really? You'd do that?" You almost whimpered under his touch.

"Of course Sweetheart. Anything to help." He smiled, "I wouldn't be a very good doctor otherwise would I?"

"I guess not." You giggled, watching as his lips twisted up into a charming smile.

"Okay then." He grinned as he released you, "You go home and get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."

"Okay doc...Steve." You corrected yourself with a shy smile before standing, "See you tomorrow."

"Can't wait sweetheart." He smiled, watching your ass jiggle as you walked away, with his lip between his teeth and a promise to his cock that tomorrow was the day he would finally make you his, you just didn't know it yet. 

Everything tag - @late-to-the-party-81

@the-wandering-wonder @rnurse-kole @chemtrails-club @marvelgurl

The day had been gruelling and long, with patrons coming and going in their flocks due to the beating sun. The small, family owned arcade you worked at along the shore was rustic and had that old timey feel, yet still managed to pull in the younger crowd. You loved it, loved the job, loved the area, your colleagues, but your boss was something else entirely.

Jake Jensen had taken over for his father a few years ago, now the sole owner of the little amusement hall like his father and his father before him. A shared passion that passed down the generations and kept the small business alive. You loved how excited Jake got when a new machine or game dropped, how animated he became as he spoke about the ins and outs of different mechanics or genres.

He was gorgeous and kind and had that geeky boyish charm that you craved. The problem was, he was also completely oblivious to the way he made you feel. To the way your thighs clenched when he got too close or the way saliva pooled in your mouth when he'd lift the edge of his tee to wipe the sweat from his brow, revealing his sculptured vee that dipped down beneath his jeans.

You wanted him, more than anything and you had dropped hint after hint in an attempt to get what you wanted, but Jake remained unphased or maybe unbothered. You hoped it was just his blissful unawareness of women and not that he just wasn't interested in you, but you didn't know how much longer you could hold out before you gave up.

"Busy today huh boss?" You purred with a smirk, leaning over his desk whilst pushing your boobs together in an attempt to get his attention.

"Yeah, busier than usual." He muttered over his computer, not even glancing up from the screen as usual.

You internally huffed in annoyance, wondering just how much more obvious you needed to be.

"You want me to fill up the coin pushers tonight?" You offered, biting down on your lip as you looked over the object of your desires.

"Please that would really help." He agreed as his fingers worked over the keyboard and his brows furrowed at the screen.

"No problem." You sighed, turning on your heel and shaking your head at your own stupidity.

"Hey." He called from behind you, as you reached the door and your whole body stilled, heart hammering as you dared a glance over your shoulder to see Jake looking back at you with a smile on his gorgeous plush lips.

"Yeah?" You replied, breath hitching in anticipation.

"Did you know the first pusher was invented in 1964 in the UK?" Jake grinned, clearly enthusiastic about yet another lesser known fact.

"No that's interesting." You swallowed, stamping down the lump in your throat. God he was impossible.

"Yeah I thought so too." Jake chuckled before turning back to his computer.

The answer looked clearer now than ever before, you just weren't his type, he wasn't interested or maybe you hadn't been nearly bold enough.

You decided there and then, one more push and you'd never say anything again, you'd take the rejection and your dignity and push down the feelings for him that had been festering for months.

"Cool well...I'll get on that...." You smiled, "But if you need me to help take a load off anywhere else, or just, take a load, let me know."

With that you walked out of the office door, hearing a scrape of a chair and a muttered voice behind you.

"I will." Jake answered before his brows raised and he looked up at the empty doorway with a lump in his throat, quickly shoving himself from his chair. "Wait what?"

You approached the first of many coin pushers, tapping your left hand down on the glass as you looked down, in an attempt to assess what it needed, despite your mind reeling at the devastation of Jake not wanting you.

Your right hand slipped into your back pocket to collect your master keys when you felt a hand on your wrist stilling you and a body slowly push up against your back.

"Please," Jake rasped against your ear with a shaky voice, "Tell me I took that how you meant it."

You pressed your ass back against him, feeling him already hard against you as a low strangled growl escaped his throat.

"It feels like you did." You breathed as your own heart sped up and arousal pooled in your panties.

"Thank fuck." Jake groaned, desperately grabbing the waistband of your trousers and yanking them down along with your underwear.

You barely had time to register what was happening before his cock was buried in your cunt, hands pressed flat against the top of the machine and his nose buried in the crook of your neck while your pussy pulsed around him with need.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." He groaned, slipping his cock from you to thrust back in to the hilt.

Your hips snapped against the harsh glass corners of the pusher, hands now pressed flat next to Jake's to keep yourself on your toes, but you didn't care, because he was finally inside you, stretching you in a way you'd never felt before, like he was always supposed to carve out his space inside you.

"I've been dropping enough hints." You moaned.

"You have?" Jake squeaked in surprise.

"Uh huh." You nodded feebly, voice raspy and broken while he pummeled himself inside you, "Almost daily for the last couple months."

"Shit I'm such a dumbass." Jake groaned, slipping his hands from the glass and sliding them under your t shirt, taking hold of your hips, "Been jerking off at home to the thought of you when I could of been having you this whole time."

"Exactly." You smirked.

"Did you think about me too?" He moaned, dragging his nose along the exposed skin of your neck, inhaling you as he finally took you.

You only groaned in response, even more aroused at the idea of him stroking his cock to the thought of you.

"Tell me?" He pleaded, again, pressing a single kiss to your neck.

"I did." You gasped.

"Oh fuck." He grunted, forehead dropping down onto your shoulder, "Not gonna be a dumbass from now on."

"Please." You begged, unsure whether it was in response to what he'd said or the fact your stomach was tightening and your body was pulsing as an orgasm built.

"Gonna keep you so full." He groaned as his hips continued slamming against your ass, "Take you out back between shifts."

"God." You groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Your head dropped back, landing against his shoulder and Jake took the opportunity to start placing rushed kisses to your neck, jaw and cheek.

"Yeah you like that idea?" He murmured against your cheek, "You wanna be mine?"

"It's all I want." You breathed.

"Well you're mine now kitten." He promised, hands tightening on your hips, "All mine."

"Yes Jake." You cried as your body began to shake in preparation for release, blood pumped to your ears and your eyes closed, ready to be taken by the bliss.

"You're so fucking perfect." Jake grunted, "Feels so good."

"Don't stop." You begged in a whisper.

"I won't. Fuck." He rasped, "Gonna make you feel so good."

His cock continued slamming into you, the sounds of skin slapping skin and hushed moans filled the empty arcade as the smell of musk and sex surrounded you both.

"Please. So close." You panted, fingers twitching against the glass, desperate for something to hold on too.

"Let go kitten, cum for me." Jake grunted, hips speeding up in excitement at your upcoming orgasm.

"Fuck." You practically yelled when you finally came. Your pussy gushed around his cock, eyes glazing and body flooding with heat.

"That's it. Shit." Jake groaned shakily as his own orgasm began to take route, "Gripping me so hard, fuck, gonna bust."

He quickly pulled out with a groan, spilling warm cum all over your ass as the pussy clenched around nothing but cold air.

Your torso collapsed over the glass, chest heaving as you panted, trying to catch your breath with a smile on your face.

"Holy shit." Jake panted, dropping his forehead between your shoulders, wet half hard cock sticking against your ass, "That was amazing."

"Yeah." You smiled.

"You mean it?" He asked shyly, sliding his palms up and down along your sides, "Are you mine now?"

"Yeah I am." You grinned.

"Thank fuck." He grunted and you let out a giggle.

Jake pressed a kiss to your back before pulling himself up behind you. You pressed your palms to the glass, pushing your body up as Jake's hands circled your waist, pulling you close to him with his chin on your shoulder.

"Oh hey, we need more prizes in here." You said, looking through the glass as your hands clasped over his arms.

"So we do." Jake smirked.

Everything tag - @late-to-the-party-81

@the-wandering-wonder @rnurse-kole @chemtrails-club @marvelgurl

The day had been gruelling and long, with patrons coming and going in their flocks due to the beating sun. The small, family owned arcade you worked at along the shore was rustic and had that old timey feel, yet still managed to pull in the younger crowd. You loved it, loved the job, loved the area, your colleagues, but your boss was something else entirely.

Jake Jensen had taken over for his father a few years ago, now the sole owner of the little amusement hall like his father and his father before him. A shared passion that passed down the generations and kept the small business alive. You loved how excited Jake got when a new machine or game dropped, how animated he became as he spoke about the ins and outs of different mechanics or genres.

He was gorgeous and kind and had that geeky boyish charm that you craved. The problem was, he was also completely oblivious to the way he made you feel. To the way your thighs clenched when he got too close or the way saliva pooled in your mouth when he'd lift the edge of his tee to wipe the sweat from his brow, revealing his sculptured vee that dipped down beneath his jeans.

You wanted him, more than anything and you had dropped hint after hint in an attempt to get what you wanted, but Jake remained unphased or maybe unbothered. You hoped it was just his blissful unawareness of women and not that he just wasn't interested in you, but you didn't know how much longer you could hold out before you gave up.

"Busy today huh boss?" You purred with a smirk, leaning over his desk whilst pushing your boobs together in an attempt to get his attention.

"Yeah, busier than usual." He muttered over his computer, not even glancing up from the screen as usual.

You internally huffed in annoyance, wondering just how much more obvious you needed to be.

"You want me to fill up the coin pushers tonight?" You offered, biting down on your lip as you looked over the object of your desires.

"Please that would really help." He agreed as his fingers worked over the keyboard and his brows furrowed at the screen.

"No problem." You sighed, turning on your heel and shaking your head at your own stupidity.

"Hey." He called from behind you, as you reached the door and your whole body stilled, heart hammering as you dared a glance over your shoulder to see Jake looking back at you with a smile on his gorgeous plush lips.

"Yeah?" You replied, breath hitching in anticipation.

"Did you know the first pusher was invented in 1964 in the UK?" Jake grinned, clearly enthusiastic about yet another lesser known fact.

"No that's interesting." You swallowed, stamping down the lump in your throat. God he was impossible.

"Yeah I thought so too." Jake chuckled before turning back to his computer.

The answer looked clearer now than ever before, you just weren't his type, he wasn't interested or maybe you hadn't been nearly bold enough.

You decided there and then, one more push and you'd never say anything again, you'd take the rejection and your dignity and push down the feelings for him that had been festering for months.

"Cool well...I'll get on that...." You smiled, "But if you need me to help take a load off anywhere else, or just, take a load, let me know."

With that you walked out of the office door, hearing a scrape of a chair and a muttered voice behind you.

"I will." Jake answered before his brows raised and he looked up at the empty doorway with a lump in his throat, quickly shoving himself from his chair. "Wait what?"

You approached the first of many coin pushers, tapping your left hand down on the glass as you looked down, in an attempt to assess what it needed, despite your mind reeling at the devastation of Jake not wanting you.

Your right hand slipped into your back pocket to collect your master keys when you felt a hand on your wrist stilling you and a body slowly push up against your back.

"Please," Jake rasped against your ear with a shaky voice, "Tell me I took that how you meant it."

You pressed your ass back against him, feeling him already hard against you as a low strangled growl escaped his throat.

"It feels like you did." You breathed as your own heart sped up and arousal pooled in your panties.

"Thank fuck." Jake groaned, desperately grabbing the waistband of your trousers and yanking them down along with your underwear.

You barely had time to register what was happening before his cock was buried in your cunt, hands pressed flat against the top of the machine and his nose buried in the crook of your neck while your pussy pulsed around him with need.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." He groaned, slipping his cock from you to thrust back in to the hilt.

Your hips snapped against the harsh glass corners of the pusher, hands now pressed flat next to Jake's to keep yourself on your toes, but you didn't care, because he was finally inside you, stretching you in a way you'd never felt before, like he was always supposed to carve out his space inside you.

"I've been dropping enough hints." You moaned.

"You have?" Jake squeaked in surprise.

"Uh huh." You nodded feebly, voice raspy and broken while he pummeled himself inside you, "Almost daily for the last couple months."

"Shit I'm such a dumbass." Jake groaned, slipping his hands from the glass and sliding them under your t shirt, taking hold of your hips, "Been jerking off at home to the thought of you when I could of been having you this whole time."

"Exactly." You smirked.

"Did you think about me too?" He moaned, dragging his nose along the exposed skin of your neck, inhaling you as he finally took you.

You only groaned in response, even more aroused at the idea of him stroking his cock to the thought of you.

"Tell me?" He pleaded, again, pressing a single kiss to your neck.

"I did." You gasped.

"Oh fuck." He grunted, forehead dropping down onto your shoulder, "Not gonna be a dumbass from now on."

"Please." You begged, unsure whether it was in response to what he'd said or the fact your stomach was tightening and your body was pulsing as an orgasm built.

"Gonna keep you so full." He groaned as his hips continued slamming against your ass, "Take you out back between shifts."

"God." You groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Your head dropped back, landing against his shoulder and Jake took the opportunity to start placing rushed kisses to your neck, jaw and cheek.

"Yeah you like that idea?" He murmured against your cheek, "You wanna be mine?"

"It's all I want." You breathed.

"Well you're mine now kitten." He promised, hands tightening on your hips, "All mine."

"Yes Jake." You cried as your body began to shake in preparation for release, blood pumped to your ears and your eyes closed, ready to be taken by the bliss.

"You're so fucking perfect." Jake grunted, "Feels so good."

"Don't stop." You begged in a whisper.

"I won't. Fuck." He rasped, "Gonna make you feel so good."

His cock continued slamming into you, the sounds of skin slapping skin and hushed moans filled the empty arcade as the smell of musk and sex surrounded you both.

"Please. So close." You panted, fingers twitching against the glass, desperate for something to hold on too.

"Let go kitten, cum for me." Jake grunted, hips speeding up in excitement at your upcoming orgasm.

"Fuck." You practically yelled when you finally came. Your pussy gushed around his cock, eyes glazing and body flooding with heat.

"That's it. Shit." Jake groaned shakily as his own orgasm began to take route, "Gripping me so hard, fuck, gonna bust."

He quickly pulled out with a groan, spilling warm cum all over your ass as the pussy clenched around nothing but cold air.

Your torso collapsed over the glass, chest heaving as you panted, trying to catch your breath with a smile on your face.

"Holy shit." Jake panted, dropping his forehead between your shoulders, wet half hard cock sticking against your ass, "That was amazing."

"Yeah." You smiled.

"You mean it?" He asked shyly, sliding his palms up and down along your sides, "Are you mine now?"

"Yeah I am." You grinned.

"Thank fuck." He grunted and you let out a giggle.

Jake pressed a kiss to your back before pulling himself up behind you. You pressed your palms to the glass, pushing your body up as Jake's hands circled your waist, pulling you close to him with his chin on your shoulder.

"Oh hey, we need more prizes in here." You said, looking through the glass as your hands clasped over his arms.

"So we do." Jake smirked.

Everything tag - @late-to-the-party-81

@the-wandering-wonder @rnurse-kole @chemtrails-club @marvelgurl

Bucky and Steve had been best friends for a long time now. 

They would do anything and everything for each other, a bond between them that was damn near unbreakable and one that had withheld even the most chaotic and hardest challenges. 

They stood by each other, looked out for one another, and they supported each other. 

And sometimes, they shared things. Weapons, jackets, armor, you. 

Oh yeah. You. 

You’re Bucky’s girlfriend of the last two years, and to say he was out of his mind obsessed with you would be an understatement. He’s in love with you, there was no doubt to anyone about that. You’re his girl. 

His girl who is also quite close with his best friend. 

It didn’t start out that way. No, Bucky is very possessive of you, he wants to claim you, have you all to himself for as long as he’s alive. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t opposed to sharing you with Steve on occasion. 

The whole thing didn’t make any sense. Bucky is so protective and possessive and aggressive when it comes to you, but he didn’t care that Steve also found you unbelievably hot. 

Steve had been a lonely guy for most of his life, and he hadn’t let himself open up to anyone in quite some time. Bucky, being his best friend, often was the person Steve rambled on to about his non-existent love life, and how he wishes he could be one of those guys who fucks a girl then moves on without a blink. 

But he’s not. He needs to be friends with people, he needs to connect with someone, he needs to know the person he’s sleeping with before he sticks his dick in her. 

One night, Bucky had invited Steve over to his place since you’d be working late and he was bored, but when the blond arrived, he couldn’t stop talking about how the girl he just went on a date with kept trying to get in his pants throughout the whole thing. He complained about how he wanted to wait until at least the fifth date before he has sex with her, but she seemed persistent on wanting to do it on the first. 

Safe to say Steve wouldn’t be seeing her again. 

He had switched to the topic of his sex life and how he had to jerk off most nights since people these days just want to hookup and that’s it. You’d come home halfway through that conversation, and you were morbidly intrigued to hear more, so when Bucky spread his legs and patted his thigh, you eagerly sat down on his lap to listen to Steve’s rant. 

It was after midnight, and Bucky had been in this exact position on the couch for the last four hours, his attention span really getting tested as he rolled his head to the side and stared at the muted TV screen that was playing a past football game. Bucky didn’t care for sports, but he didn’t think he could take listening to Steve complain about the lack of sex in his life for one more minute before he drives his head through the flat screen. 

You were interested though as you shifted on his lap, sipping the last of the beer he’d been using as fuel to get through this conversation, even though he couldn’t actually get drunk. “Jesus, Steve,” you laughed, draping your arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Your life is so miserable, even I feel tempted to have sex with you just so you can stop complaining about not having been laid in years.” 

It was a joke, a harmless jab from his sweet and kind and sexy girlfriend, one that had Steve’s face heating up as he shook his head. But Bucky’s lips curved upwards, his hand on your hip tightening as he thought about it. He really thought about it. 

Bucky never planned on sharing you. He wanted you all to himself and no one else, but if he had to share you with anyone, Steve would be the one and only person he’d feel comfortable enough with. He knows Steve’s a good guy, he knows he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do, and he knew that the respect they have for each other was profound and solid. 

Steve is well aware of the fact that Bucky plans to spend the rest of his life with you, so he doesn’t need to worry about his friend catching feelings or trying to steal you away from him. It was just sex. A way to get Steve to shut the fuck up about wanting to have sex with someone he knows and not a total stranger. 

Bucky gets to have sex with you and then some, and he also gets the rest of you. He gets all of you, so the more he thought about it, the more open he became to the thought of letting Steve sleep with his girlfriend. 

It was kind of a win-win in Bucky’s mind since Steve would finally get laid by someone he knows, and Bucky will finally be given a break from all the moping he’s endured from Steve. 

And you, well, you got to sleep with a hot guy with full permission from your boyfriend. 

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” he spoke up, feeling the way you froze on his lap. He squeezed your hip, metal fingers as gentle as they could be as they grazed the skin of your waist.

“What?” you laughed, looking down at him as you loosely held the neck of the bottle between your fingers. “I was joking, baby.”

But he was looking over at Steve now, and you followed his gaze. The blond furrowed his brows, eyes flickering between yours and Bucky’s as he saw the thought process begin in your mind, your expression relaxing as you thought about what he was suggesting. “Bucky-” Steve sat up a bit straighter, his hands coming up in a defense gesture as he shook his head, as if he was the one who came up with the idea, not Bucky. “Dude, I-”

“What?” Bucky cut him off, leaning back against the couch in a casual slump. “I don’t mind. And as long as she doesn’t mind, I don’t see why not. It’ll finally get you to shut the fuck up about your lack-luster sex life.”

“Bucky,” you laughed, gently slapping his chest. When you looked over at Steve, your expression softened, and you gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Steve, and it’s fine if you don’t want to. I was just kidding, but I also don’t mind helping you out in that way, if you’d like me to.”

Steve swallowed harshly, his hands rubbing along the front of his jeans. “I wouldn’t… I don’t want to mess things up between the two of you,”

Bucky shrugged, his thumb stroking along your hipbone under your shirt. “We’re fine. We’re solid,” 

You nodded in agreement, and Steve’s face was a bright shade of red as he let out a shaky breath, his eyes hesitant, but his body so clearly betraying him. “Sure…” he trailed off, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears. “Okay. Yeah.” 

And that was how it started. 

That night, you started off with something simple, a blowjob right there on the couch, where Steve came pretty quickly, painting your cheek and chin white since there had to be some rules set in place. 

Steve could have you, most of you, but he couldn’t do super intimate things. Coming in your mouth? Hell no. Fucking you raw? Absolutely not. Kissing? There was a fine line with that one. If either you or Bucky thinks he’s going too far, you’ll pull back, or Bucky will grunt at him in warning. It was understandable, because you are still very much Bucky’s girlfriend, and anything that comes across as too intimate was off limits. 

But so far so good. And it was so good. 

That night on the couch was a few months ago, and Steve hadn’t complained about his sex life once since then. 

It was obvious as to why, because Bucky knows better than anyone how fucking incredible your body is, and how intoxicatingly addictive your pussy is. 

Steve was in heaven. 

Pure, tight, wet heaven as he fucked into your sweet pussy from behind. You were on your hands and knees on yours and Bucky’s bed, your naked body jolting forward with every sharp fuck of Steve’s hips. 

Across the room, sitting on the chair in the corner was Bucky, his jeans pushed down to his thighs, his hard cock in his hand as he lazily stroked it. He’d invited Steve over to hang out and catch up, and then you came home, and things escalated. 

Steve was horny, and you were more than willing to let him pull you into the bedroom and have his way with you. It felt like second nature since he’s done it so many times now. And yet he still finds himself feeling a little jealous that you’re Bucky’s girlfriend. You’re Bucky’s. Not Steve’s. 

But Steve had become as obsessed with you as Bucky is, but he couldn’t tell either of you that. Bucky would shut it down so fast, go back to having you all to himself and would never let Steve be in the same room as you again. 

So he kept it hidden. He was selfish like that, because you and Bucky had both been so selfless, sharing this part of your lives with him. He wasn’t about to fuck it up. 

Your moans were music to his ears as he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin. “Goddamn,” he muttered, his hips slapping against your ass with every thrust. “You’re such a lucky son of a bitch, Buck.”

Never in a million years did Steve ever think he’d be railing his best friend’s girlfriend while in the same room as him. It was unheard of, and yet he didn’t give a shit. 

His praise made you laugh, and Steve moaned louder as Bucky hummed in agreement. “I know, man,” he said, stroking his cock a little faster as he looked over at you, only ever keeping his eyes on you. 

“Christ, she’s so fucking tight,” Steve grunted, leaning back to watch the way his cock disappeared deep inside you, then reappeared, the condom covered in your slick. “God, you’re so fucking tight. So warm and wet. Fuck, you feel so good around my cock.” 

You moaned, your eyes hooded as a fucked out expression took over your face. Your hands were gripping the sheets tightly, your body jolting forward with every impale of Steve’s cock. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and you moaned as you watched your boyfriend jerk himself off. “Mhm, Bucky loves my tight pussy too, don’t you, baby?” you purred, grinning at the way Steve’s pace stuttered briefly when you clenched around him. 

Bucky groaned, his hand sliding up and down his cock. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he muttered, his voice deep and raspy. “Nothing compares to your perfect little cunt, baby. Nothing feels better than you.”

He slowly stood up from the chair, his cock bobbing in his hand as he moved closer to the bed. His jeans hung low on his hips, pulled down just enough for his dick to be freed. You smiled up at him, leaning into his touch when his metal hand came up to caress your chin. 

Steve picked up the pace, his fingers curling around your hips more firmly. “Fuck, I can’t believe how good you feel,” he panted, his gaze fixated on where you and he are connected. 

You gave him a pretty, way too innocent looking smile over your shoulder, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “You feel good too,” you murmured, meeting a few of his thrusts halfway before turning back to Bucky. You reached for him, pulling him closer until his knees were pressed against the front of the bed. “I want you to feel good too, baby.” 

You wrapped your hand around his cock, giving it a few slow strokes before you took him into your mouth. Bucky grunted, his hand sliding into your hair as you licked along the underside of his cock. “Fuck, just like that, baby,” he groaned, his hips rocking gently to work himself deeper inside your mouth. “You’re such a good girl. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

A muffled moan escaped your lips as you nodded slowly, one hand leaving the sheets to grab Bucky’s hip. Steve’s pace stuttered a bit, one of his hands sliding up to grip your shoulder as he pulled you back onto his cock over and over again. “You’re incredible, Y/n,” he praised, his brows drawn together from the intense pleasure building up inside him. “God, I wish you were mine.”

He didn’t mean for that to come out of his mouth, because he knew that was nearing the line he was not allowed to cross with you and Bucky, but you just laughed. With your mouth around Bucky’s cock, you laughed. 

And somehow Steve became even more gone for you. 

You pulled away from Bucky, your hand continuing to stroke along his wet cock, and you smiled up at him with your puffy lips and glistening chin. “What are you gonna say to that, baby?” you asked, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Bucky’s dick. “He wants me too… wishes I were his.” 

Steve’s pace stuttered a bit at that, and he didn’t want to meet Bucky’s eyes while he’s balls deep in his girlfriend, and he didn’t want to see the set in his jaw or the look on his face that would let him know that this will be the last time he’ll get to have you like this. 

If he had looked up, he would’ve seen the way Bucky’s eyes darkened possessively, and seen the way his hand tightened in your hair. He would’ve seen the hint of jealousy Bucky wasn’t used to feeling around his best friend. 

He also would’ve seen that, as quickly as that jealousy formed, it faded just as fast. “He wishes,” Bucky murmured, his voice low and deep and confident as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip. “But you’re mine, baby. My gorgeous, sweet and perfect girl. You just like helping him out sometimes, don’t you? That’s all this is.” 

His voice was teasing and a little condescending as he gripped the base of his cock and guided it back to your mouth, and you all too eagerly took him back inside. When Steve did take the chance and lift his gaze, Bucky wasn’t looking at him. Instead he was focused on you, his flesh hand cradling your jaw while his metal one pulled gently on your hair. 

He didn’t completely fuck this up and ruin one of the best situations he’s ever accidentally gotten himself in. That was good. This is good. 

Steve was close, his thrusts becoming quicker and harder as you whined around Bucky, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt perfect, tight, wet and warm, and he had to grind his teeth together to quiet himself down. Your sounds, even though they were muffled around Bucky’s cock, were the very things he thinks about now when he’s alone, and he’d rather hear you than hear himself.

You clenched around him, and Steve’s pace stuttered once again. “Fuck, I’m close,” he grunted, equally hating and loving how he could never last long with you. You felt far too good, squeezed him just right, and fit him better than anyone else ever had. “You’re so tight.”

You moaned appreciatively as Bucky moved his hand to your throat so he could feel how deep he was inside your mouth. His blue eyes were blown wide with lust as he looked down at you like you were his entire world, his hips moving more urgently as he fucked your mouth. “You feel so good, baby. You’re such a good girl,”

Steve looked down and watched himself slide in and out of you, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “Jesus, I’m gonna cum,” he rasped, feeling his stomach clench with his impending release. 

Bucky pulled out of your mouth, his cock slick with your spit. A string of saliva connected his tip to your lips before it broke, and he grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so you were looking at him. “Clench that pussy for him, baby,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your swollen lower lip.

You obliged all too willingly, clenching around Steve until he was thrown head first over the edge, his hips jerking and his eyes squeezing shut. His head fell back as he came, filling the condom up and desperately wishing there wasn’t a layer of latex between you and him. 

A quiet moan left your lips as you wiggled back against him, nuzzling your face into Bucky’s palm. Steve had to force himself to pull out of you, when all he wanted to do was stay buried inside of you for the rest of the night, but then he watched Bucky lean down to kiss you, and he knew his time, as well as his turn, was up. 

When he pulled out of you, you moaned against Bucky’s mouth before moving onto your knees on the bed, your arms draping around your boyfriend’s neck and your chest pressing right up against his. “Your turn, baby,” you murmured against his mouth. 

Bucky grinned against your lips before kissing you again, his arms wrapping tightly around your middle as he held you against his hard body. 

This was Steve’s least favorite part. He usually got you first, but once he was finished, he had to sit back and watch you and Bucky be all over each other in the way you’d never be all over him. It was bittersweet, mainly bitter. But he still sits through it, because it forces him to realize that he’ll never have all of you like Bucky does. You’ll never be all his, and he’ll never have your heart. 

He moved away, still breathing heavily as he slumped onto the chair Bucky had been in only five minutes ago, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

Bucky’s large hands slid down your body until they found your ass, and he lifted you up against him as he crawled onto the bed, following you down until he was hovering over you and caging you in with his much bigger body. He settled between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your core, your slick making it easy for him to push inside you. 

“Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he groaned, his forehead dropping against yours as he bottomed out inside you. “So fucking perfect for me.” 

He started to move, setting a deep, steady rhythm that had him hitting all the right spots deep inside your weeping pussy. One big hand slid under your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist so he could go even deeper. 

Bucky knew just how to touch you, how to fuck you, how to make you fall apart for him. It came with years of having you like this, of exploring your body and making it his over and over again. 

You moaned loudly, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as he fucked into you. “God, yes,” you gasped, tangling your fingers in his hair as you arched your back off the bed. “So good.” Your voice was whiny as your hands slid down Bucky’s broad back until your fingers dug into his ass, your nails leaving half moon indents behind. 

Bucky grunted as your nails dug into his skin, urging him to thrust harder and deeper and faster, claiming your body after it was filled by his best friend. This was his favorite part, the part when he got to fuck you like he had a point to prove. 

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans as he fucked you into the bed. He’d been on edge from your mouth, and you’d been on edge from when Steve fucked you, so when he felt you flutter around his cock, he knew you were close. “That’s it, baby,” he muttered against your mouth. “‘M gonna make you cum on my cock.”

You whined against his lips, your body heating up in an intense blush. “Fuck yes, baby,” you moaned, your hands sliding back into his hair. You pulled away from his lips and looked up at him, your brows drawn together in a furrow as he worked you to your high. “I love you so fucking much, Bucky.” you whispered, intending only for him to hear the words, but of course both men heard you. 

Bucky leaned down and peppered kisses along your jaw and neck, his deep grunts lost against your skin. “I love you too. So fucking much,” he breathed, sucking a mark onto the base of your throat. “You’re everything to me.”

Steve’s stomach twisted in a nasty feeling he had no right to feel. He had no business being jealous of the two of you, no business being jealous of his best friend when Bucky had been so selfless in sharing this part of you with him because of Steve’s lack of a sex life. 

Another reason why he forced himself to sit through this part of the deal. 

Bucky ground his hips against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit with every deep thrust. “Cum for me, baby,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose along your jaw before connecting his mouth to yours, swallowing your cries as he felt you clench around him, your release coating his cock with nothing in between to separate you and him. 

He grunted into your mouth as he came too, filling you up to the brim as his hips rolled against yours, fucking his cum deeper into you. He pulled away from your mouth and pressed his body against your own, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. 

“Fuck, that was so good,” he panted, burying his face into your neck as you tried to catch your breath. 

After a few seconds, he rolled to the side, pulling you flush against his chest as he draped a rather possessive arm over your waist. You giggled softly, cuddling against him as you turned your head and watched Steve stand up and begin to pull on his clothes. “Thank you for a fun last few hours,” you grinned up at him, making Steve meet your gaze as he pulled his jeans back on. “I think I’ll be sore for a while.”

Steve’s mouth curved upwards in a small but genuine smile, and he took a few short steps to the bed, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you,” he said back, his eyes lingering on you for a few more stolen seconds before standing up straight again. “You’re amazing. You always are.”

As he reached for his shirt, Bucky pulled you closer to him, his other hand resting on the curve of your ass. “Mm, I think Bucky wants his cuddles now,” you laughed, breaking eye contact with Steve as you turned over in Bucky’s arms. 

He held you against him, your warm, naked body pressed right up against his own. “I always do,” he murmured, pressing a firm kiss to your cheek.

Steve felt that bittersweet feeling wash over him again as he pulled his shirt over his head. “You’re a lucky guy, Buck,” he mumbled, “She’s… she’s special.”

Bucky lifted his gaze and looked up at him, his expression stoic. “Sure is,” he agreed, his metal hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face in his neck. The way he looked at you spoke all the words he didn’t need to say. 

You’re his everything. His rare gem in this unforgiving world. The one person he’d let get away with anything. 

Steve swallowed a little harshly as he stepped away. “Well, I should go. Got an early morning tomorrow,”

Bucky’s face dropped as he rolled onto his back. “Right, the debriefing,” 

Steve nodded and turned around, heading towards the door as an ugly feeling weighed heavily in his chest. “I’ll see you then,” he said, keeping his back to the both of you. 

Bucky hummed, nodding at his back as you waved lazily, even though Steve couldn’t see you. He’d done this routine before, he knew how this whole thing plays out once it’s over. 

And now you and Bucky were back to being blissfully all over each other, and Steve was back to pretending you weren’t invading all his thoughts, and pretending like he wasn’t falling for you.

He loved you when it was easy, when you fit neatly around whatever version of him he wanted to be that month. He loved you most when he thought you might finally leave for good.

This time had ended outside your apartment building in the cold, with his hands shoved in his pockets and his mouth set in that familiar wounded line.

“You’re overreacting.”

You had laughed then, short and ugly, because what else was there to do? He had said that after the girl at the tailgate, after the texts you were never meant to see, after the weekend he disappeared and came back with a hickey low on his neck like you were stupid enough to miss it. Overreacting. As if heartbreak could be dramatic if it happened often enough.

You had told him it was over. He had said, “You always say that.”

And maybe he’d had reason to believe you didn’t mean it.

But for once, you had.

Now it was Thursday, classes were dragging, your chest still felt hollow in a way that made you angry at yourself, and Wanda was done entertaining your grief like it was some kind of sacred ritual.

“Move on,” she said bluntly. “Please. For the love of God. Hook up with somebody hot and emotionally unavailable. Cleanse the palate.”

Across from her, Natasha snorted into her drink. “That is terrible advice.”

“It is excellent advice,” Wanda shot back. “She doesn’t need another relationship. She needs a distraction. Preferably one with shoulders.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “A distraction.”

“Yes,” Wanda said, leaning in like she was about to share state secrets. “A campus-approved, low-commitment, high-orgasm distraction.”

Natasha grinned. “I can think of one.”

The three of you went quiet in unison.

Because, of course, you all thought of the same person.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky to everyone on campus, because nobody who looked like that should be allowed to have a name that sharp and old-fashioned without softening it somehow.

Star forward. Campus legend. Hockey team golden boy with a mouth made for smirking and a reputation so thoroughly established it barely needed repeating. He was good for a good time, not a long time. Everybody knew it. Girls came and went from his apartment above the pizza place off campus. He flirted shamelessly, skated like violence could be beautiful, and had the kind of face that made poor decisions feel reasonable.

In other words, exactly the kind of man you should avoid.

Which was probably why you heard yourself ask, “You think he’d go for it?”

Wanda barked out a laugh. “Honey. Bucky Barnes would go for a girl in a potato sack if she looked at him the right way.”

Natasha pointed at you. “That’s not the point. The point is, would you go for it?”

You thought of Ryan’s smug certainty. You thought of the ache in your chest every time you caught yourself reaching for your phone. You thought of how badly you wanted to stop feeling chosen only in parts.

And then you thought of Bucky’s hands.

You'd never touched them before, but you'd seen them often enough. Wrapped around a hockey stick. Curled around a beer bottle at parties. Tugging the collar of his shirt after games, skin flushed, hair damp at the nape of his neck, looking like sin in broad fluorescent light.

You took a sip of your coffee and said, with all the false casualness you could muster, “Maybe I’m due for a bad decision.”

Wanda raised her plastic cup. “That’s my girl.”

It turned out you didn’t even have to go looking for him.

Friday night, the campus bar was packed shoulder to shoulder after the home game, half the crowd still in school colors and buzzing from the win. Somebody had dragged a table close to the jukebox and was trying to lead a chant that kept dissolving into drunken laughter. The whole place smelled like beer, fried food, and melted snow from the boots piled by the door.

You were there because Wanda refused to let you rot in your apartment and because there was something deeply satisfying about putting on a tiny black top and jeans that made your ex regret ever making you feel ordinary.

You were three drinks in, warm and pleasantly untethered, when the hockey team came in.

The room shifted when they did. Not dramatically. Just enough for you to feel it.

Loud voices, easy confidence, the kind of collective attention only comes from being young and adored in a college town. You saw Sam Wilson first, laughing at something Steve Rogers said. Then Steve himself, all broad shoulders and impossible earnestness. And then Bucky, a step behind them, black henley stretched over his chest, hair pushed back from his forehead, mouth already tipped in a half-smile like the whole world had been built mostly for his amusement.

He saw you before you could look away.

You knew it because that smile changed.

Not bigger. Not brighter. Just different. Sharper. Interested.

“Uh-oh,” Wanda murmured into your ear.

You kept your gaze on your drink. “What?”

“Don’t what me. Barnes just clocked you from across the room.”

You made yourself glance up again, because pretending you hadn’t noticed would’ve been ridiculous. Bucky was still looking at you. He lifted his chin in greeting, casual and self-assured.

Your pulse jumped.

“Maybe he’s looking at you,” you said weakly.

Wanda laughed in your face.

Three minutes later, he was in front of you.

“Hey,” he said, like the two of you had been halfway through a conversation already.

Up close, he was worse. Better. Bigger than he looked on the ice somehow, shoulders filling the narrow space between tables, jaw shadowed with the start of a beard. He smelled like cold air and clean soap and whatever cologne made your brain go embarrassingly blank for a second.

“Hey,” you managed.

His eyes flicked over you once, not leering, just appreciative enough to make heat rise under your skin. “Did you come to celebrate me?”

You let out a laugh before you could stop yourself. “I don’t know. Did you do anything worth celebrating?”

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Scored the game-winner.”

“Mm. Seems pretty self-serving to throw yourself a party.”

“Who said it was for me?” His mouth tilted. “Could be for the people who like watching.”

That should have been corny. On anyone else, it might have been. On him, it landed low in your stomach and settled there, warm and dangerous.

You could feel Wanda watching you with barely concealed delight.

Bucky leaned an elbow against the high-top. “You want another drink?”

You should have said no. You knew you should have said no if only to preserve some illusion of self-control.

Instead you said, “Depends.”

“On?”

“What you think this is.”

His brows lifted slightly, and for the first time since he walked over, the air between you changed. Less playful. More direct.

He looked at you for a beat too long, like he was recalculating.

Then he smiled again, slower this time. “That depends on what you want it to be.”

You appreciated that. More than you expected to.

No pretense. No fake gentleness. No lying about intentions because he thought it was what you wanted to hear. Everybody knew what Bucky Barnes was. You had practically come here counting on it.

You set your empty glass on the table. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

The smile didn’t leave his face, but something in his eyes sharpened with interest. “Good.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

You folded your arms, trying not to look too affected by how easy this was. “I just got out of something messy.”

“Then messy’s the last thing I’m offering.”

That surprised you enough to make you laugh softly. “That your line?”

“No.” He tipped his head. “My line would be something a lot smoother than that.”

It was ridiculous how much you liked him right then.

Maybe because he was exactly what everyone said he was, and exactly not. Cocky, yes. Beautiful, undeniably. But he wasn’t slimy or pushy like you would assume. He seemed to understand that there was a difference between wanting and taking. A difference you had become intimately aware of over the last two years.

“So what are you offering?” you asked.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, then lifted again. “One night,” he said. “No pressure. No promises. You wake up tomorrow and decide it was a bad idea, I’ll survive.”

Your heart kicked once against your ribs.

Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was textbook rebound behavior. Maybe Wanda would never let you hear the end of it.

But maybe, for once, you wanted something simple. Something honest. Something that began and ended exactly where both people agreed it would.

You held his gaze. “One night.”

Bucky smiled like he knew exactly how temporary promises like that could be.

“Come on, then,” he said.

His apartment was warmer than you expected.

Not physically, though that too. The heat clicked in old pipes and the whole place smelled faintly like cedar and laundry detergent and whatever takeout he’d eaten before the game. But also in the way it looked lived in. There was a hockey bag by the door, textbooks stacked on the kitchen table, a coffee mug in the sink, a framed photo of him with the team on a shelf near the couch. You had expected something more anonymous, more designed for quick exits and easy forgetting. Instead it felt distinctly his.

Which was unfortunate, because humanizing him made this harder.

You dropped your coat over the back of a chair while he locked the door behind you. Suddenly the silence felt loud after the bar.

“You want water?” he asked.

The question was so normal it almost undid you. “Sure.”

He handed you a glass from the kitchen, then leaned against the counter while you drank, studying you with a patience that felt at odds with every rumor you’d heard about him.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.” His gaze moved slowly over your face. “Just making sure you’re here because you want to be.”

The warmth that spread through you had nothing to do with vodka.

“I’m here because I want to be.”

He nodded once, like that mattered. Like he wasn’t going to touch you until he was certain.

Then he set his own glass down and crossed the room.

His hand came up slowly, giving you every chance to step back, and settled warm against the side of your neck. He kissed you like he’d been thinking about it longer than the last forty-five minutes. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just deep and deliberate, his mouth parting over yours until your fingers tightened around the edge of the counter and every good intention you’d brought with you dissolved.

You kissed him back harder, because if this was going to happen, you wanted it to happen all the way.

He made a soft sound in the back of his throat when you opened for him, one hand sliding to your waist, the other bracing on the counter beside you. His body was all heat and weight, big enough to make you feel crowded in a way that thrilled instead of trapped. When his tongue brushed yours, you made a helpless little noise and he smiled against your mouth like he’d won something.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmured.

You dragged him back in by the front of his shirt instead of answering.

That got a real laugh out of him, low and delighted, and then the kiss turned rougher. Hungrier. He backed you along the counter until your hip knocked the corner and you hissed, but he only used it to lift you onto it, stepping between your knees like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said against your mouth.

“I won’t.”

His eyes flicked up to yours. “Tell me anyway.”

You swallowed. “I’ll tell you.”

“Good girl.”

The words hit you low and immediate.

He must have seen it happen, because his smile turned devastating. Then he kissed down your neck, open-mouthed and unhurried, and you forgot every defensive speech you’d rehearsed on the walk over.

He took his time with you. That was the thing you hadn’t expected. A man with Bucky’s reputation should have been selfish. Efficient. Skilled, maybe, but with the clear sense that he was working toward his own satisfaction.

Instead he kissed you until you were breathless and touched you like he had nowhere else to be. He slipped your top up with a pause for permission that made your chest ache for reasons you didn’t want to examine. He looked at your body like he liked what he saw, no hesitation, no false flattery. When he got you out of your bra, his hands were reverent enough to be dangerous.

“Jesus,” he said softly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You laughed, shy despite yourself. “What?”

“Nothing.” He kissed the top of one breast, then the other, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you. “Just think maybe I’m the luckiest guy on campus.”

“That definitely is a line.”

“Maybe,” he said, mouth at your skin, “but it’s also true.”

By the time he dropped to his knees in front of you, your head was spinning.

“Bucky—”

“Let me.”

It wasn’t really a request. More like a promise. His hands slid up your thighs, easing them wider, and when he pressed a kiss to the inside of one knee you nearly came off the counter from that alone.

He looked up at you before he pushed your jeans down, giving you one more chance. You nodded, breathless, and he smiled into your skin.

Then he put his mouth on you, and any remaining thought left your body.

He was obscenely good at it. He paid attention. He learned you almost immediately, like your reactions were clues he intended to solve with his whole body. His tongue moved with slow, merciless precision, and every time your hands tightened in his hair he groaned like this was for him too.

It became impossible to stay quiet.

Your head knocked lightly against the cabinet when you tipped back, one hand over your mouth because the sounds coming out of you felt mortifyingly loud in his kitchen. Bucky only took your wrist and pulled it away.

“No,” he murmured, not stopping. “Let me hear you.”

When you came, it hit you so fast you barely had time to realize you were falling. His hands held you steady through it, his mouth never letting up until your thighs shook around his shoulders and you were gasping his name like a prayer.

He stood only long enough to kiss you with the taste of yourself still on his mouth, which should not have been as hot as it was. You made a desperate sound and reached for his belt.

His laugh was rougher now. “Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Not even a little embarrassed.” He helped you with his zipper. “I like that.”

You liked that he was already hard. You liked the sharp inhale he took when you got your hand around him. You liked the way his forehead dropped briefly to yours, composure slipping for the first time that night.

“Bedroom,” he muttered.

You hooked your legs around his waist. “Efficient.”

He grinned, wide and boyish and filthy all at once. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Get used to it.”

He did, over the next several weeks, in every possible sense.

The first time really was only one night. You left in the morning wearing yesterday’s clothes and his mouth on yours in the doorway, and it should have ended there.

Instead he texted you that night.

Had fun. Hope you’re hydrating.

You stared at the message for a full minute before replying.

Is this your aftercare routine with all your hookups?

His answer came almost immediately.

Only the ones I’m worried might have died in my bed.

You snorted, then typed back before you could overthink it.

Still alive. Barely.

Good, he sent. Would’ve hated the paperwork.

You told yourself it was harmless.

Then you saw him a week later at a party thrown by one of the baseball guys, and he kissed you in a dark hallway with one hand under your skirt and the other braced above your head while music pounded through the walls. You told yourself that was harmless too, right up until he dragged his mouth down your throat and said, “Come home with me.”

You did.

After that, it became a pattern.

Sometimes one of you texted first. Sometimes neither of you had to.

You’d see him across campus outside the athletic center, hair damp from practice, duffel slung over one shoulder, and he’d look at you in that way of his that made your stomach flip over. You’d run into him at the library and end up making out with him in the stairwell between floors, your textbooks forgotten on the landing while his hand slid up under your sweater. He’d show up at a party and somehow always end up with you pinned to a bathroom door, your fingers in his hair, his mouth moving over yours like he knew exactly how much pressure it took to make you dizzy.

Every time, afterward, you would gather whatever shreds of your self-control remained and say, “This is the last time.”

And every time, Bucky would look at you with a laugh hovering at the corner of his mouth.

“The last time, huh?”

“I mean it.”

“Sure you do.”

The third time, he said it while lying shirtless beside you, one hand spread warm over your stomach like he belonged there. Your body was still humming from the way he’d made you come on his tongue first and then again with his fingers buried in you while he kissed you deep enough to swallow every sound.

You turned to glare at him, though it was hard to maintain any righteous indignation while completely naked in his bed.

“Why do you look so smug?”

“Because you say it every time.” He brushed his thumb over your skin absently. “And then you come back.”

“You come back too.”

“Yeah,” he said easily. “I never said I was leaving.”

That lodged somewhere under your ribs and stayed there.

Because that was the dangerous part. It wasn’t the sex, even though that was increasingly difficult to think about without losing your train of thought in public. It was everything around it. The way Bucky started feeling less like a mistake and more like a habit. The way you learned his class schedule without meaning to. The way he’d tug you between his knees in his kitchen while waiting for the microwave to finish and kiss you until your lips tingled. The way he’d murmur, “Stay,” after sex in a voice too sleepy to be performative, and sometimes you actually would.

He wasn’t supposed to be considerate.

He definitely wasn’t supposed to be funny.

And he absolutely was not supposed to listen.

But he did.

He remembered you hated mushrooms and picked them off the pizza before handing you a slice. He noticed when you were quiet and didn’t pry, just pulled you against his chest and let you breathe until the tension eased from your shoulders. He asked how your exam went and actually waited for the answer. Once, when you mentioned in passing that your apartment radiator never worked right, he showed up two days later with a space heater balanced on one hip and said, “Don’t make a thing out of it. I got it from Steve’s mom.”

You had looked at him like he’d started speaking another language.

“What?”

“This isn’t very down for a good time, not a long time of you.”

Bucky had shrugged, but his ears went a little pink. “Maybe I contain multitudes.”

He kissed you until you forgot how to make sense of him.

The hookups got better, which honestly felt unfair.

They should have plateaued. Should have become routine. Instead every time with him felt like he’d found some new way to undo you.

There was the night he came over after an away game, still riding the high of a win, and fucked you against your apartment door so slowly you could barely stand it, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright while he told you exactly how pretty you looked taking him. There was the Sunday afternoon at his place when you ended up on your knees between his spread thighs, your cheek brushing the worn denim of his jeans as you took his cock into your mouth inch by inch. He had gone so still, fingers tight in your hair, like he was one wrong movement away from losing it. When you looked up at him, he made a wrecked sound and said your name like it had surprised him.

You liked making him come apart.

Maybe too much.

After that, he had pulled you into his lap in the shower, water steaming around both of you while he kissed you with lazy, reverent hunger. By the time he slid a hand between your legs, you were already shaking.

“There she is,” he murmured when your forehead fell to his shoulder. “Been waiting for that.”

You should not have liked hearing him sound proud of you. But you did. God, you did.

Afterward, with your legs tangled and his damp hair curling at the ends, you had said your line again because you didn’t know what else to do with the softness of that moment.

“This has to be the last time.”

Bucky propped himself up on one elbow. “You gotta stop saying that when I’m inside you five minutes earlier.”

You shoved at his chest, laughing despite the sting in your own voice. “Shut up.”

He caught your wrist and kissed your palm. “You’re the one who keeps lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

His expression changed then, something quieter moving under the teasing. “Maybe not on purpose.”

You went still.

That was the first time you saw it clearly, the thing you’d been avoiding by pretending this was all body and no consequence. It was there in the way he was looking at you. Not just wanting. Not just amused. Something heavier. Something that made your pulse turn strange.

So you did what you had become very good at doing.

You pulled away first.

“You’re reading too much into it,” you said lightly, climbing out of bed to gather your clothes.

Bucky didn’t argue. Which somehow made it worse.

By March, your friends had stopped pretending this was a rebound.

“You’re basically dating,” Wanda informed you one afternoon as you sat cross-legged on her bed avoiding your reading assignment.

“We are absolutely not.”

“You spend four nights a week at his apartment.”

“That is not a relationship. That is convenience.”

Natasha looked up from her laptop with the exhausted patience of someone dealing with a child who refused to identify basic shapes. “He walked you to class in the rain yesterday.”

“Because he was already going that way.”

“He does not have class in the humanities building.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it again.

Wanda pointed dramatically. “Exactly.”

You flopped back against her pillows. “I just got out of something awful. I cannot do another relationship right now. I can barely think about next semester, let alone commitment.”

Natasha’s voice softened. “Nobody’s saying you have to.”

“He’s not either,” Wanda added. “At least, not that I’ve seen. But you can’t keep acting like this means nothing.”

You stared at the ceiling.

The truth was, you didn’t know what it meant. You only knew that when Bucky texted, your day changed shape around it. That you had started watching his games because you liked seeing him lit up by something he loved. That sometimes, in the half-second before you remembered to protect yourself, you caught yourself imagining what it would be like if this were allowed to become something real.

And that terrified you.

Because real things could hurt you.

Casual things were supposed to end clean. That had been the whole point.

Then came the fundraiser.

The hockey team and a bunch of other campus organizations had teamed up to raise money for a local youth center, and the bar just off campus—The Lantern, with its warped stage and sticky floors and surprisingly decent fries—was hosting the whole thing. There were raffle baskets and signed jerseys and a local band playing covers in the corner while students crammed too close to the tables and shouted over each other.

You went because Wanda had helped organize half of it and because staying home would have felt suspiciously like avoidance.

Bucky was there because where else would he be? The star athlete in a henley that hugged his chest like a prayer answered by someone with questionable morals. He was working the room with the rest of the team, taking pictures, charming donors, signing a little girl’s hockey stick with solemn concentration while her mother beamed.

It should not have done things to you, watching him kneel to the kid’s level and ask what position she played.

“This is sick,” Wanda muttered beside you. “He’s hot and good with children? Honestly offensive.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Can’t. I’m a truth teller.”

Bucky looked up from across the room and saw you.

His whole face changed.

There it was again, that awful, lovely thing where the crowd seemed to blur at the edges. He handed the hockey stick back, said something to the girl that made her grin, and then he was moving toward you with that easy confidence that made everybody part for him without realizing they were doing it.

“You came,” he said.

“You invited half the campus.”

“Still.” He smiled. “You came.”

You hated how much warmth those two words carried.

“You clean up nice, Barnes.”

He leaned down just enough for only you to hear. “You trying to flirt with me in public?”

Your stomach dipped. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar.”

Wanda made a very pointed noise. “I’m going to go do literally anything else.”

She disappeared before you could glare at her.

Bucky took your drink from your hand, had a sip like it belonged to him, then offered it back. “Come upstairs with me for a second.”

“The Lantern has upstairs?”

“Office. Quiet hallway. Couple of storage rooms. Endless possibilities.”

You should have said no.

Instead, because apparently you had no survival instinct where he was concerned, you followed him through the back corridor past the restrooms and stacked kegs to a narrow stairwell. He only got as far as the landing before turning and pulling you into him.

You hit his chest with a breathless laugh. “Subtle.”

“You came in wearing that skirt. You don’t get to talk to me about subtle.”

“I’ve worn this skirt before.”

“Yeah,” he said, mouth brushing yours, “and I thought about it for three days.”

The kiss stole the rest of your reply.

He backed you gently against the wall, hands finding your waist with the ease of someone who had done this often enough to know exactly how your body fit against his. Below you, the bar pulsed with music and voices muffled by floorboards. Up here it was dim and private, the kind of hidden space college towns are built on.

He kissed like he meant it and that was the problem. He kissed like he’d spent weeks learning the shape of your mouth and still hadn’t gotten over it.

When he pulled back, you were breathing hard.

“Come home with me tonight,” he said.

You blinked. “I probably was.”

He smiled a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. I mean come home with me. Stay. Stop pretending this is casual when it isn’t.”

Everything in you went still.

The music downstairs shifted to another song. Someone laughed too loudly. Somewhere nearby, a door banged shut.

You stared at him. “Bucky.”

He rubbed his thumb along your hip. “You don’t have to freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“You are a little.”

“Because you’re doing exactly what we said we wouldn’t do.”

His jaw flexed. “Did we? Or did you?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

His voice stayed gentle, which almost made it worse. “I liked this being easy. I did. But it stopped being just sex for me a while ago, and I think you know that.”

Your pulse thudded in your throat.

“Don’t do that,” you said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Make me answer something I’m not ready to answer.”

He looked at you for a long moment. “I’m not asking you for forever.”

“That’s how it starts.”

The words came out sharper than you meant them to. You saw him feel the edge of them and hated yourself immediately.

You dragged in a breath. “I just got out of something awful. I am not doing this again. I’m not throwing myself into another thing because it feels good right now.”

His hands loosened at your waist but didn’t leave. “You think that’s all this is to me?”

“No,” you said, because lying would’ve been insulting. “That’s what scares me.”

He was quiet.

Then, very softly, “You think I’d hurt you like that?”

The answer should have been no. It was no. You knew it.

But fear doesn’t care what you know. Fear only cares that once, you were stupid enough to trust somebody who treated your heart like a revolving door, and now even kindness felt like a setup.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said. “I can’t do this.”

His face closed off in small, careful increments. Not anger. That would have been easier. Just hurt, managed so tightly it made your chest ache.

“Can’t,” he repeated. “Or won’t?”

You stepped out of his hold.

“Please don’t make this ugly.”

He laughed once without humor. “I’m not the one making it ugly.”

That stung because it was true.

You folded your arms, protecting yourself from the look on his face. “We had an agreement.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And then we kept breaking it.”

“Because of sex, Bucky.”

“That is not why you know my coffee order.”

You went silent.

His eyes searched your face like maybe, even now, he could find something to hold onto. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You couldn’t.

And because you couldn’t, because the truth sat living and dangerous between you, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You fled.

Not literally at first. You walked downstairs with as much dignity as you could gather, heart beating too hard, skin still warm from his hands. The noise of the bar hit you all at once. Wanda saw your face and stood immediately.

“What happened?”

You picked up your drink from the table with fingers you hoped didn’t shake. “Nothing. I’m done here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Done as in leaving or done as in arson?”

Before you could answer, the band onstage wrapped up their song and the lead singer leaned into the mic. “Anybody got requests?”

You looked up.

Bucky had followed you down. He was standing near the back hallway entrance now, one hand braced on the edge of a chair, watching you with a stunned, wounded kind of focus that made it hard to breathe.

He was gorgeous even when miserable. Which felt deeply inconvenient.

Maybe it was petty. Maybe it was defensive. Maybe it was the only way you knew to grab control of a moment that had started slipping out of your hands the second he asked you for something real.

You crossed to the stage before you could think better of it.

The singer bent down to hear you over the crowd. You leaned up, said the title into his ear, and his eyebrows shot up in delighted recognition.

“Oh, that’s evil,” he said, grinning.

“Can you play it?”

“For you?” He glanced toward the band. “Absolutely.”

The opening chords rang out less than thirty seconds later.

Wanda made a strangled noise of disbelief as the first unmistakable bars of “U + Ur Hand” cut through the room.

You turned.

Bucky was still by the hallway, one hand over his mouth now, eyes wide with something that looked dangerously close to laughter despite everything. Around him, Sam doubled over against Steve’s shoulder. Steve himself looked like he was trying very hard not to smile. Half the team had clocked what was happening and were reacting with open, delighted horror.

You should have felt guilty.

Instead, to your own surprise, you felt a slow curl of satisfaction.

Because if he was going to push, if he was going to try to crack open the part of you that still felt raw and healing and unready, then he was going to have to accept that you had claws.

You lifted your glass to him in a tiny salute.

His eyes met yours across the crowd.

Then, finally, his mouth curved. The worst part was he didn't look smug or mocking. He looked impressed, like he couldn’t quite believe you had the nerve, and liked you more for it.

That, more than anything, nearly made you falter.

Wanda grabbed your arm. “You insane, beautiful menace. We are leaving before this becomes a public incident.”

You let her pull you toward the door, Natasha right behind you already laughing. The cold hit your cheeks the second you stepped outside, music still thumping through the walls behind you.

“Holy shit,” Natasha said. “You requested that song?”

“I had to make sure he knew what he was going home with.”

Wanda stopped under the awning and looked at you with wild admiration. “I have never been prouder of anyone in my life.”

You laughed, breath fogging in the air, though there was a crack running straight through the center of the sound.

Because underneath the adrenaline and the petty thrill and the relief of escape, you could still feel the shape of him on that stairwell. The way he’d asked not for forever, but for honesty. The way you had refused him because honesty might have undone you.

“You okay?” Natasha asked more quietly.

You shoved your hands into your coat pockets. “Ask me tomorrow.”

Wanda linked arms with you and started tugging you down the sidewalk. “Fine. Tonight we’re getting fries and overanalyzing every detail.”

Behind you, the song swelled louder as someone opened the bar door, a burst of laughter spilling out into the night. You didn’t turn around.

Keep your drink, just give me the money It's just you and your hand tonight

Inside The Lantern, Bucky Barnes stayed exactly where you left him for a few seconds longer, staring at the door like it might open again.

Sam clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Man.”

Steve, traitor that he was, looked openly entertained. “You gotta admit, that was pretty good.”

Bucky let out a breath through his nose, eyes still on the door, and finally laughed.

Not because it didn’t sting. It did. He could still feel the ghost of her stepping out of his hands upstairs, all fear and stubborn pride and defenses stacked so high he hadn’t known how to climb them without making everything worse.

But Jesus.

Requesting that song before walking out on him in front of half the athletic department?

That was brutal.

That was funny.

That was so completely, infuriatingly her.

He tipped his head back, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m gonna get that girl.”

Sam barked a laugh. “After that? You still think you got a shot?”

Bucky looked back toward the door, toward the empty space where she had been, and smiled slowly.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Now I know I want one.”

And if getting her meant patience, then he’d be patient. If it meant proving he could be more than a rebound, more than a warm body and a safe kind of almost, then he’d do that too. If it meant standing outside every barricade she put up until she was ready to let him in, he could do that. He’d spent months learning the difference between the lines she said and the things she meant. He could wait a little longer.

Because she had walked out tonight with her friends and her chin up and that wicked, bright spark in her eyes, and instead of making him give up, it had only made him admire her more.

The band played on. His teammates kept laughing. Somewhere out in the cold, the girl who had sworn over and over that each time was the last time was pretending she hadn’t just blown apart whatever was left of casual between them.

Bucky took a pull from the beer somebody handed him and grinned into the bottle.

He was in trouble.

The best kind.

And for the first time in his life, James Buchanan Barnes was more than willing to do whatever it took for the long game.

You were going to be perfect. He just knew it. Maybe a little too clever for your own good, but that wasn’t something that couldn’t be remedied.

From his position leaning against his car, Lloyd watched you exit the store you’d been browsing in and set off down the street. Oh, Sunshine, he thought, every step you take, I’ll be watching you. 

It had taken him a while to find a suitable candidate. Months of collating data, doing research and then observing all the potential options and it all narrowed down to you. With your wide eyes that will look so pretty filled with tears. With your plump lips that will look so good around his cock. Fuck, the anticipation was getting him so hot. He kept thinking about all the different things he was going to do. All the different ways he was going to make you scream, and squirm, and cry. A shudder of arousal ran through him and he reached down to adjust his cock where it twitched in his slacks. He needed to have patience. It would be all the sweeter for waiting. 

You turned the corner, out of sight, but Lloyd wasn’t worried. He knew your routine like the back of his hand and at this time you were on your way home. To your tiny, pathetic apartment with its laughable lack of security. But you had to negotiate the subway first, so by the time you got home, he would be there ahead of you. Waiting up on the roof opposite, binoculars in hand, ready to watch you carry out your nighttime routine.

He knew he could just take you now, waltz right on in and you’d be powerless to stop him, but he’d decided he could wait a little longer. And keep watching.