Je suis La mort de Toi

Bucky had you pinned up against the side of the house, only hidden by a shower curtain. With his cock shoved deep inside of you, throbbing and hot. One of his huge arms was cradled under your ass to hold you up. It almost made you cum right there thinking about his strength.

Bucky had you pinned up against the side of the house, only hidden by a shower curtain. With his cock shoved deep inside of you, throbbing and hot. One of his huge arms was cradled under your ass to hold you up. It almost made you cum right there thinking about his strength.

But you had to be quiet. Although everyone knew you two were missing from the house. Actually, Bucky had made it his personal goal to fuck you in the most inappropriate places on the spring break trip. You didn’t know about this exhibitionist side of the usually shy member of the friend group.

He moved his hips slightly, thick member dragging against you maddeningly. You stifled your moan, a thin whimper coming out instead. He had your cunt split in half— another fact you weren’t aware of until Bucky decided to ask you out. The guy’s dick was huge, veiny, and should be immortalized in dildo form.

The brunette was grinning ear to ear, blue eyes dark with lust. He cooed, “That’s a good girl- we don’t want anyone to hear do we?” You bit your lip and shook your head, eyes fluttering shut. Bucky tapped your cheek with his other hand, chiding, “No, no, look at me baby.” He pulled out some— the tip of his cock dragging against your sweet spot.

Trembles ran down your thighs, another quiet whimper falling out. You tucked your head into his beefy shoulder, panting, “C’mon, stop playing Buck.” He laughed meanly in return, fucking back into you with a wet slap.

“If I stop playing you’ll start screaming again,” he said all casual, like he wasn’t balls deep inside your pussy.

You were frustrated. It wasn’t enough, you were throbbing and achy and Bucky had been toying with you for about thirty minutes now. He even turned the shower off so you really had to be quiet. Steve was around the corner on the porch, you could hear his footsteps.

Hot tears welled up in your eyes, you blinking instinctively. Bucky stopped smiling, his thick brows knitting together in concern. He carefully pulled your gaze back to him with a big hand wrapped around the side of your face. Your boyfriend asked, “Hey, wait, what’s wrong?”

You whispered, more of a quiet warble, “You’re being mean.” Another annoyed tear ran down your cheek, Bucky swiping it away. He pressed a couple of kisses to the side of your face and whispered, “I’m sorry baby, shit, do you wanna cum now?”

You nodded deliriously, mouth falling open to chant little ‘pleases’.

“Okay, okay, fuck, you better cry for another reason,” Bucky sighed, pressing his forehead to your own.

He slid in and out slowly at first, the obvious noises of people fucking out loud. It made you blush to hear him inside you, begging to turn the shower back on. Bucky cursed but obliged. Once the droplets were raining onto the ground again, the brunette began to roughen his pace.

Your arms around his neck stiffened, nails digging into tanned flesh. His cock was back impossibly deep again, battering against your g-spot and grazing your cervix. You’d never had that happen before and it was causing an intense sensation to build between your thighs.

“Bucky- Bucky, oh my god!,” you whined into his pink lips. He pressed them against your open mouth, swallowing up your noises eagerly. His other hand dropped down to your ass, slapping his hips harder and harder. You felt like a ragdoll, unable to do anything but take it.

You babbled into the hot kisses, scrabbling desperately at his back. Bucky moaned softly, “God you feel so good, being so good, fuck,” his eyes closed before he praised, “Best babydoll ever.” You gathered enough wits to kiss the sweet boy back at that.

More pressure built up in your lower belly from his fucking monster dick catching every sensitive spot in your cunt. He was all fast shallow thrusts now, so much friction your eyes rolled up. Your breath was coming in hitched sobs, calling his name on every other breath.

Bucky’s breathing was ragged against your open mouth, blue eyes blown wide. He grunted with exertion, beginning to twitch inside of you. He crooned against your lax lips, “I know baby, I know, it feels s’good don’t it?” His honeyed tone struck you hard, you mewling pathetically, tears welling up once more.

“C’mon- know you’re close pretty girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Bucky dug his hips in deep, striking your innermost walls just right. You wailed his name, unable to bite back the overwhelming ecstasy. Bucky clamped his hand down on your mouth with a surprised gasp. He growled into your ear, “Goddamn babygirl you can’t do that to me- shshit!”

Bucky sought out his release, gasping and straining for purchase as your cunt milked him. You blubbered behind his hand, orgasm crashing down like a ton of bricks on you. The brunette twitched and whined your name so, so sweetly as he emptied into your pussy.

The pair of you didn’t move for what seemed like an eternity, sucking in breath under the stream of the outdoor shower. Bucky slid out of your abused cunt— both of you wincing. He let you down gentle, steadying you with those big hands. Your legs were shaky and like a newborn foal with the way you stumbled and leaned into Buck’s broad chest.

He smiled down dopily, eyes soft. Bucky rumbled, “Well there’s no way they don’t know what we were up to— you okay babydoll?” His thumbs circled at your waist, a reassuring gesture. You nodded and rasped, “Yeah you ass. You’re carrying me to the bed.”

He grinned widely, teeth shining as he laughed. Your boyfriend peered around, grabbing the earlier discarded swimsuits from behind. Bucky teased, “Almost forgot,” he bent down to help you slide on the one-piece, “I want you to tell me if you’re not okay, promise?”

You nodded, pulling a strap onto your shoulder. Bucky pulled on his trunks, you almost sad to see him clothed again. Pressing a kiss to his still-pulsing neck you replied, “I will- honestly jus’ never been fucked like that.”

“No? Never?”

You shook your head, “Nope. Either drunk hookups or plain missionary where I didn’t cum.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up possessively, him sealing his lips over yours with a soft lick. He pulled back and gushed, “No way- so I’m the first who made you cum?” You rolled your eyes and palmed his softening cock.

“Hard not to with this thing,” you said with a wink, “But yes, Barnes, you are the one and only.”

Bucky kissed you again, smiling helplessly. You wrapped tired arms around his waist and returned the favor. Both of you pulled back and hollered when the shower curtain jerked open with a SCHINK.

A smug Sam and blushing Steve stood on the other side, Nat peered from around the corner from the deck with a knowing look. Sam boasted, “Told you! They been in there way too long!”

Natasha added, “Seriously Steve you’re too pure for your own good!”

Bucky glared at Sam, shoving the fellow junior in the chest. His other arm was still clung tight around your frame. You deadpanned, “Did y’all really have a bet going on?” Steve sputtered, “Yes- look- dammit!”

Clint’s voice came in next, “Did Steve figure out Barnes was plowing our goody-two-shoes?”

Bucky made a face and an annoyed scoff. You started laughing deliriously, frankly high off the rush of the orgasm. Rogers shook his head and returned to the porch along with a cackling Sam. Bucky palmed the back of his head, sheepishly giving you a look. You playfully tugged on his wet hair.

The whisper of lightning, the promise of thunder, the answer of rain. The sky darkens and the sun is forgotten, casting a gloomy light on the earth below.

And yet, in the midst of all that chaos, I find it to be a chemical mixture for peace.

“Y/N, Y/N what the hell are you doing out there?”

That illusion of peace shatters, and I let out low groan, keeping my eyes shut as the raindrops fall down on my form outstretched on the pavement.

“I was having a peaceful moment of bliss until someone decided now was an opportune time to bother me,” I call back.

“An opportune time to-” I hear him cut off incredulously, muttering something to himself as heavy, booted feet slosh through the rain to reach me, “Get off the damn driveway, doll. You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a myth,” I respond, staying pleasantly where I lay right in front of the Avengers Compound.

“Myth my ass, now get up and inside before I throw you over my shoulder and do it for you.”

I click my tongue, not having to open my eyes to know my best friend is standing right beside me, “So much violence, so much language. You should join me, some inner peace would do you good.”

Thunder cracks above, rumbling through the earth and into my bones. Even though I don’t hear his steps moving away, Bucky goes silent beside me. I begin to think he’s taking me up on my offer of a little rain therapy.

“See,” I sigh into the cacophony of nature, “Isn’t that peaceful? Maybe-”

I don’t even have time to react when a pair of strong arms, one of them freezing cold due to the metal in the rain, grab my waist and lift me clear off the floor. My eyes snap open with a jolt as I see myself being thrown over Bucky’s shoulder just like he promised.

“What the-” I stop myself as he secures me with his arm dangerously near my ass and slap his broad, muscular back, “You little bitch!”

“A little bitch who’s gonna keep you from getting a cold,” Bucky responds, and I can hear the smugness in his tone from back here, “Is the rain still peaceful?”

“No, there’s a jackass who got in the way.”

I feel his body rumble with laughter, feel the noise pass through my body and make my heart tumble in its cage. With that, his arm edging near a zone that’s clearly more than friends, and the sight of his wet t-shirt stuck to his back, I feel the anger flood from my body. Instead, I find myself thinking about what his abs look like with his rain-soaked shirt pressed against them.

Damn it, I’ve really got it bad.

I try my hardest to shove the image from my mind, but it only sticks harder and makes the spot where Bucky’s hand rests burn. I notice his metal hand on the other side, rain dripping off of it, and I can’t help but let my mind trace to-

I halt my thinking abruptly. He’s your best friend, he’s your best friend, he’s your best friend.

He’s my unfairly hot, broody, and annoyingly heart-fluttering best friend

With his free hand, Bucky shoves open the front doors to the Avenger’s Compound, walking a few steps until we enter one of the large, high-ceiling living areas where a television blasts a movie.

“I told you,” Tony announces after the group of my friends and teammates sees Bucky walking in with me on his shoulder, “Sam, you owe me five bucks.”

“Put me down, terminator,” I grunt, to which Bucky finally sets me on my feet.

Immediately I go to hit him, but the sudden change in my body’s gravity sends me off balance slightly. I stumble back slightly, trying to make the blood rush from my head so I can balance again.

“Woah, careful there, Bambi,” Bucky laughs, gripping onto my waist to help steady me.

Where his hands touch, metal and skin alike, my skin sets on fire. The radiating electricity from his touch only annoys me further and I shove out of his hands, swatting his chest.

“I’m fine,” I grumble, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze and holding a finger in his face like a scolding parent, “Next time you manhandle me, I’m going to remove your arm like Ayo showed me.”

Bucky smirks at me coolly and says something, but I miss it because my eyes drop down to where his t-shirt sticks to his abs from the rain. Just like I imagined it would, it makes my mouth go dry and my heartbeat miss a step.

“See something you like?” Bucky taunts.

Cheeks flushed, I look up at him calmly and smile, “Just thinking about what a shame a body like that is wasted on the grumpiest man alive.”

The group of Avengers lounging around the various chairs and couches in the living room snicker, their attention drawn from the television. He lifts an eyebrow at me and those infuriating steel blue eyes ricochet my pulse.

“Sure you were.”

“Whatever,” I mumble, turning and looking at team, “Who bet against me?”

Tony, Bruce, Wanda, and Nat lifts their hands and I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in feigned hurt.

“Traitors,” I grumble, not being able to stop the smile that wants to twitch onto my lips as Bucky walks up beside me and rests his arm on my shoulder.

“They bet right, didn’t they?”

I look up at him with the half-smile I wasn’t able to stop, “Screw you,”

I turn around and leave the living room, making my way towards my room so I can shower and change. From behind me, I hear Bucky’s laugh that sears itself into my memory.

“Love you too, doll!” He calls out, and my heart launches into my throat.

He doesn’t mean it like I want him to, not like how I mean it. Not like how I've meant it for months.

As I finally get to the confines of my bedroom, I shut to the door and let out a trembling breath. I keep my back pressed to the door for a moment, leaning my head against it and forcing myself to forget the way his hands felt, to strike from my memory the beauty of his laugh. When I finally peel off my wet clothes and step into a scalding hot shower, I let the water and steam surround me long after I'm already clean.

I'm a coward, a coward and a fool for falling for my best friend and not being able to say a word to him about it.

Long after I'm out of the shower and cuddled up with a book on my bed, a knock sounds on my door. I've barely glanced up at it in confusion when Natasha's voice calls out, "I know you're probably reading a book but put it down and let me in unless you want me to break down the door."

A half-smile tugs onto my lips and I set my book aside, untangling myself from my covers and opening the door for my friend. She gives me a smug smile and waltzes in, plopping down on my bed. I can't help but shake my head at her as she makes herself at home.

"Why are all of my friends so violent?" I taunt, sitting down next to her.

"Most of us are trained assassins." Nat gives me a playful nudge, already lifting my spirits from the gloom and doom they were resting in. Her knowing gaze immediately notifies me that I can't escape the conversation to come, so I don't even bother to skirt around it.

"Why does my life suck?" I groan, dropping down onto my back dramatically. Nat laughs beside me, shaking her head down at me.

"So many questions tonight," She remarks, following the words with a tired sigh and laying down beside me. As we both stare up at my ceiling, my mind is held captive by one person. Both it and my heart have been held hostage and I'm starting to understand the truth in Stockholm Syndrome.

"You know, and brace yourself because this is gonna blow your mind, you could just tell him how you feel," Nat advises.

"And risk ruining everything that we already have?" I reply, my brows creased in an ever-present state of worry, "I could live with being friends with him forever as long as it meant I still had him in my life. But if I tell him how I feel and it changes everything to the point where he can't even be around me?"

I take a charged pause, startled by the sudden rise of emotion. I swallow down the burning pain, but ultimately I decide to go easy on my breaking heart. The poor thing doesn't know any better. All it knows is that it wants Bucky Barnes and I keep locking it and its desires into a cage of bones in my chest.

"A life without him...I couldn't live like that."

Nat sits up beside me, catching my attention in time to see the sympathy flashing across her features, "Y/N, I know it's scary but if you'd just trust me I think the outcome would surprise you."

She can tell that I'm still not convinced, so in a last ditch effort to rally me from my slumber of inaction, she reaches across me and grabs the book I was reading. I sit up, a protest just starting on my tongue as I reach for it. She pulls it out of my reach and holds it in front of her chest, displaying the cover for me to see.

"Do any of the characters in these books ever fare well from denying their passions?" Nat asks, and I find that she has me in a figurative corner, "Do their stories end well when they decide, 'Nah, I'm too scared to tell him I love him'?"

"I don't love him," I protest, but the lie is sour on my tongue and allergic to my soul. It gets rejected so quickly by everything within me that I almost think I'll have a physical reaction to it.

"Bullshit." Nat challenges, setting the book aside and grabbing my hands. I shake my head, trying to escape her arguments that my heart jumps in agreement with.

It's a brutal thing, to have your heart yearn for one thing and your mind so resolutely against it. I've always thought it strange how the dichotomy of desires could root in a person, but it makes sense in a way. The heart is led by our passions, our intuitive cravings. The mind is hardwired by nature and instinct to protect us, to propel our survivals.

Even if that means our passions must be slaughtered.

I'm keeping my mind in charge by sheer will that's hanging precariously over the edge of a cliff. My will only has a few fingers left to hold with, and I can feel it slipping every day Bucky's near me, every time his skin brushes mine, every time he simply is.

“I need to move on,” I almost desperately announce, gripping handfuls of my sweatshirt to keep from crying, “I need a way to move or this is going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.”

Sympathetic to my distress, Natasha lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “You know, with Tony’s Semi-Annual Charity Gala coming up this weekend it’s the perfect time to move on.”

I perk up slightly, the thought breaking a sliver of hope in the pit of despair and self-pity I allow to well up. For an Avenger, I sure know how to wallow in pain.

“…or make a move on a certain super soldier.” Nat continues.

“Don’t be silly, I’d never steal Steve away from you,” I jest, my tone wavering but stronger than before. Nat rolls her eyes from beside me before shoving my shoulder. With a sigh, I finally meet my friend’s gaze, “One last chance. One chance and then I’m putting myself out of my misery”

That’s so easily said. The unspoken truth is that my poor heart doesn’t stand a chance. It hasn’t for a long time.

“Great!” Nat smiles, squeezing me into a side hug on the bed, “I’ll start planning your outfit now!”

And with that, she’s off my bed and into my closet. As we spend the better part of the night deciding on what to wear to the upcoming gala, I can’t help but let my mind stray to its usual focus. With a groan of exhaustion, I drop my head into my hands and tell myself that same lie.

“He’s my best friend. That’s all.”

It’s getting harder and harder to believe.

|||

A few days later

It's been a few days since the rain incident, and I've finally managed to garner a moment alone from everyone. It's not that I don't love being around them, but it taxes me more than I care to admit to be around him.

A forlorn sigh brushes past my lips, but as I nestle down on the floor in the library Tony had put into the Compound, I find my worries drifting away. Instead, they're replaced with the story in the pages, rapturing my attention and distracting my mind.

That is, until the door opens and I feel his presence before I see or hear him.

"There you are, doll. I've been looking for you all day," Bucky calls, his deep, smooth voice cascading into my very soul. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying desperately to not let it show on my face how jarring it was to be snapped from the book to the person I've been trying to avoid.

"You've been looking for me?" I ask, managing to make my voice seem calm and pleasant. He approaches where I'm sitting on the floor, a breath-stealing smile tugging at his lips.

"Course I have, I haven't seen you in days," He replies, his face the picture of relaxed calm, drawing a fierce dichotomy to the barely-veiled confliction on my own. Bucky takes a moment, surveying me sitting on the floor amidst all of the chairs and couches available. He lifts an amused brow at me.

"Why are you on the floor?"

I can't stop myself from smiling up at him and all control I had in keeping myself away from him disintegrates, "It's more comfortable to me. Are you judging me Barnes?"

His laugh bursts light into the depths of me, and as I watch his face relax I can't help but look on in awe at how far he's come. When he first joined the team, he was withdrawn and quiet and even grumpier than he is now. He never smiled, never laughed, and barely spoke. Now, of course he's adorably grumpy most of the time, but he smiles and laughs. He enjoys life, and he more than anyone else in this world deserves to enjoy life.

"What're you reading?" Bucky asks, and I try to ignore the way my pulse rockets up when he settles down beside me on the floor.

He stretches out his long legs, keeping the one furthest from me bent and resting his arm on top it. His other leg is stretched out and nearly touching my own. To help balance his weight, he settles the hand closest to me, his metal hand, onto a spot on the floor behind my back. The position makes his chest brush against my shoulder ever so slightly and all I can feel is the burning of his presence and the searing of his gaze.

"Just some fantasy book," I reply, not wanting to bore him.

I look over at him to see his eyes already on my face, his own radiating a serene peace. He furrows his brows at my prolonged examination of his features and the ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just," My mouth has gone dry again, and I can't seem to clear the haze on my mind, "You look at peace."

"Well someone pretty incredible suggested rain therapy, which works like a charm for my grumpiness."

A laugh bubbles out of me, only widening the smile on his face. I find myself subconsciously leaning into his presence and bringing our faces closer.

"Seriously," Bucky continues, making me realize our proximity and pull back to a normal distance, "I'm always at peace around you."

My heart doesn't just miss a step, it stumbles and falls and nearly gives out in my chest. His words affect every part of me and it's a feat of pure resilience that I don't reach over and press my lips to his.

"Unless you're doing something stupid and testing my nerves," He adds on, lightening the air and making me giggle. He nods towards the almost forgotten book in my hands.

"You were going to tell me about your new read," Bucky reminds, and I smile.

I spend the next ten minutes detailing what's happening in the book, my excitement about it taking over and making me ramble on without barely taking any breaths. I occasionally look between the book and Bucky, sometimes gesturing with my hands to establish my enthusiasm.

Even when I'm not looking at him, Bucky's gaze never leaves my face.

So much for giving myself space to try and move on from him. That thought is far from my mind, though. The longer I’m near him, the closer he is, the harder it is to remember to forget him. And now, with Tony’s Gala tomorrow night, I don’t know how I’m going to move on.

Maybe I really can give this one last shot. It could break me if it goes wrong, but I have a feeling I’ll break a little regardless.

|||

The next night

Not even the pounding of the music and the chatter and clatter of hundreds of guests can drown out my racing mind.

“Stop tugging at your dress, you look great,” Natasha chides from beside me.

With a huff of anxiety, I heed her words and stop fiddling with the snug material of the one-sleeved dress. It hugs my curves down to my waist before draping elegantly to the floor, broken only by the high slit up the thigh.

“I know,” I reply, downing my second drink of the night and setting down the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter with a brief smile, “I just haven’t seen him yet. He’s coming right? Tony told us all to be here, so he wouldn’t just-”

“Why does there have to be so many people here?”

My words die out at the distant but unmissable rumble of words behind me. I turn around, and my entire world seems to focus on the epicenter that is Bucky Barnes as he walks in beside Sam Wilson.

“It’s a party man, I thought you loved parties back in the day,” Sam replies, smiling at a few people as he walks in.

“Yeah well I don’t like people like I did then,” Bucky grumbles back, messing with the edges of his all-black suit that is tailored so perfectly that it hones every inch of his body.

His broad shoulders, his muscular form, his piercing blue eyes in a fierce dichotomy with the darkness of the getup…I almost trip in my heels.

“You don’t like any people? That breaks my heart, Barnes,” I manage out coolly, walking up to the pair with a half-smile tugging on my lips and my heart dancing with the butterflies within.

Bucky’s gaze turns from the party goers to where I walk up to them, and a part of me melts at the way a light filters into his features. His dashing smile makes my own grow before I can stop it. The way he simply stops for a moment and stares at me, as if the throngs of people around us don’t exist…

It’s more than an effort to shove my poor heart into its shackles.

“I guess you’re an exception, doll,” He amends, and Sam rolls his eyes beside Bucky as they stop before me.

“It’s not like I’m right here,” Sam announces, making me giggle slightly and look to him.

“Hey Sam, good to see you,” I greet, walking over and hugging the man. He hugs me back, smiling brightly.

“Good to see you too,” Sam responds, his eyes catching on something over my shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe there are some fans who need me.”

I laugh as I watch him walk over and greet a group of women by the bar. When I turn back to Bucky, I shove down my nerves and shake my head as I pull him into a hug.

“You look incredible, Buck,” I announce, trying to ignore the rightness of his body against mine as he pulls me into a hug that lasts a moment more than I should have let it.

“Y/N,” he deadpans, pulling back but leaving his arms on my waist to admire me. His eyes sparkle with something akin to awe that makes hope rise in my chest, “You put me and everyone else in this room to shame.”

“You obviously haven’t looked in a mirror,” I remark, desperately trying to not show all over my face how beautiful he is.

Bucky just smiles. He looks at me and he smiles and I am undone.

My eyes catch on Natasha over Bucky’s shoulder as she mingles in the background of the party. When our gazes meet she gestures to Bucky with a hand, mounting the words ‘Come on’ as she does. Nodding back to her, I remember the conversation we had a few days ago and right before we joined the gala. I have to be bold and make a move, take a chance before I lose the ability to do so.

“So,” I turn back to Bucky, smiling knowingly up at him, “How’re you doing with the whole party thing?”

Bucky takes in a breath, nodding his head slightly as he surveys the party scene around us. Drinks are flowing, laughs rising, and music is permeating through every sector of the Avengers Compound. The floor shakes with the base and the clattering of shoes as he looks back to me, “Oh you know, just fantastic.”

“Is that so?” I taunt, almost laughing at the dripping sarcasm in his voice. He shoots me a grumpy glare that finally unleashes my laugh. At the sound, Bucky’s features soften and a smile touches his lips. I notice this and furrow my brows up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky whispers, just holding that’s soft smile in his eyes that makes me almost forget the track of the conversation. When I snap myself from my daze, I gasp.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” I exclaim, holding my clutch up and opening it to find what I stashed earlier, “I know how you are with parties like this and all so I thought that this might help make it a better memory.”

“You got me a gift?” Bucky asks, shaking his head at me with furrowed brows, “You should have told me, I would’ve gotten you something too!”

I shake my head, finally finding what I’m looking for and glancing up at Bucky, “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

With a bright smile to cover my pounding, anxious heart, I hold out the small book in my hands. Bucky glances down at the gift I hold out, and I watch his body go still. Anticipation dances in my belly as he ever so gently reaches out and takes the old, fading The Hobbit novel into his hands.

“It’s a first edition, don’t ask me how I found it,” I inform, playing with the fabric of my dress to give my now empty hands something to do, “I know how much you loved it and now when you’re watching me read in the library, you can read too.”

My words ring out between us, and yet Bucky barely moves. Just when I’m beginning to grow nervous, my heart melts into a puddle in my chest when he lifts his steel-eyed gaze to me. I’ve never seen him cry before, but here and now I can see the lining of unshed tears in his gaze.

“Buck-"

He closes the distance between us, pulling me so close to him that there’s no room for separation. I melt into the hug, becoming nothing more than an extension of his body. There’s no him. There’s no me. There’s only us as we’re suspended in time, caught in this moment.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles, not moving back an inch and letting his voice cascade over my neck and down my spine, “You don’t know what this means to me.”

Reluctantly, I pull back. Every part of me shouts in protest, but I know we have to separate as some point. I give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the noose that’s slowly tightening around my heart. I’m a goner. I have no chance of recovery.

“Don’t mention it,”

Bucky stares at me for another moment, the charged silence soon taking on an anticipated feel. We’re both waiting for the other to make the first move, I can sense it. I see Nat nudge me from afar again and decide to finally muster up my courage and stop waiting. I notice Bucky shakes his head at something, mumbling something to himself, but I press on.

“Hey, do you wanna da-”

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Bucky bursts out at almost the same instant, making me cut off my sentence quickly.

A drink? He’s going to get a drink right now, as soon as I was about to ask him to dance? I know he didn’t mean it as a rejection, but it still stings like one.

“Oh, uh yeah sure. That’s-”

Before I can even finish speaking, Bucky has darted away desperately towards the bar at the North side of the room near Sam. I stand dumbfounded, my heart slowly sinking. This is going to be much harder than I thought.

|||

It's been nearly an hour and a half and Bucky is still managing to be everywhere that I am not.

I can take a hint. Even if that hint shatters my soul a little.

As I watch the super soldier mingle with some of the guests, a polite and slightly annoyed smile on his face, I feel something snap within my chest. Here I am, lounging pathetically at the bar all alone, and there he is, my best friend who I can't seem to fall out of love with. His strong jaw and steel eyes don't dare to turn in my direction, and I feel my fracturing soul crack even more.

I have to let it go. I have to let it go. I have to let him go.

With a long sigh, I pick up the drink before me and down its contents, letting the burn soothe away the edge of the crawling pain in my chest. Once the glass is slammed back down on the bar counter, I steel my nerves and stand.

It's time I stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.

My eyes scan the thick crowd scattered throughout every inch of Tony's gala. Music radiates through every molecule of air, and just one glance at the dance floor has my feet moving before my brain is. As I walk over to the dance floor, I see a random guy standing with a few others. He's cute enough with a charming smile, so I grab his arm as I walk past, making him glance over at me. I flash him my best smile and tug him towards the dance floor.

"Dance with me?" I ask boldly, and his smile widens.

"I'd be honored," He replies, letting me pull him onto the dance floor.

I should let myself be whisked away into the music and the movements and the feel of his hands on my hips as we dance. I should let the base and the crowd and the charming man before me wipe away every thought, but I just...can't. All I can think about when his hands slide gently on my waist is how different it feels when those hands are Bucky's. My heart is crushing slowly, and so I do everything I can to forget it.

It's actually beginning to work until the music abruptly cuts out.

Groans and boo's arise from the crowd with me on the dance floor as we all look around, trying to figure out why the music's stopped. "That's so weird," The nice guy I'm dancing with mumbles. I mention my agreement, my eyes sweeping the edges of the party before I catch a glint of dark metal. My eyes fly back to the metal only to see Bucky storming away from the sound booth, his metal fist clenched so hard that I'm surprised it doesn't malfunction. In his metal grasp is a hunk of wires, and my stomach drops.

He did not.

"Don't worry folks! I'll have the music back up in no time," Tony announces, flashing his winning smile to the crowd as he jogs to the sound booth, "There was a slight malfunction"

I see him shoot Bucky a glare, but true to his words the music is back up in a matter of minutes. I feel anger begin to make my blood boil and I pull away from the guy I was dancing with. I see a frown pull onto his face as he lets me go but follows me a few steps.

"Are you okay?" He calls after me, and my heart twists in sympathy. I must look absolutely furious and he probably thinks it's pointed at him. So, I do my best to give him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm alright, thanks for the dance. I needed it," I comment, before turning and continuing my beeline for the brooding super soldier in the corner. He's standing with Sam, muttering something that I can't hear as I finally break through the crowd and walk up to them.

"Here we go," Sam mumbles, slowly backing away as I come to a stop in front of Bucky.

"What the hell, James?" I grit out.

"Oh she used the first name," Sam comments, his eyes widening, "I'm going to go check on Steve."

Then he leaves, and it's just Bucky and I. Bucky just shrugs, not meeting my furious gaze.

"I don't know what you're so mad about but-"

"Oh really? So you didn't just rip out the sound system?" I accuse, crossing my arms over my chest. He finally turns and meets my gaze, and damn it all I can't stop the swooning of my heart at the dark, rugged look on his face.

I'm angry, I remind myself. I'm angry with him.

"What does that have to do with you, sweetheart?"

I scoff, shaking my head at him, "You are unbelievable! I was finally starting to have a good night and-"

"Dancing with that handsy prick makes your night a good night then?" He interrupts, and I have to fight to keep the smug look off of my face at catching him.

"What were you saying about this having nothing to do with me?" I fire back, lifting an eyebrow. Bucky clenches his jaw and takes a step closer to me, probably expecting me to back off. I don't. Instead, I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, trying and failing to seem taller than him.

"I don't like you dancing with other men like that," Bucky informs, his voice dark. He's so close to me that his whiskey and pine scent invades my senses, threatening to empty my head of the argument at hand.

"I can dance with whoever the hell I want, Barnes. And since certain people made it very clear they didn't want to dance with me, then certain people should have no say in who I dance with"

"I don't dance, Y/N." His eyes are cool fire and they sear right through me. Even in this heated argument, all I can seem to think about is how badly I want him, body and soul. My thoughts are banished when he spits his next words out, "Not with you, not with anyone."

It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't. So why do I have to fight to keep the hurt off of my face?

Just like that, the fire in my argument is gone. I nod, taking a few steps back, "Okay, that's all you had to say."

And then I turn around and leave before he can see the tears welling in my gaze.

I force myself into the crowd, making sure I move quickly and weave myself between those around me to get away as fast as possible. Then, with my heart in my throat, I finally make it to the outskirts of the party where a glass sliding door leads out into a training field. Through the glass, I can see rain pouring down into the dark, almost moonless night.

Seeing it unravels a bit of the pain within my chest, and I don't even think as I slip off my heels and walk outside. I shut the door behind me, muting the sounds of the party and leaving the downpour of rain and the distant rumble of thunder to take over my senses. I set my heels down carefully and walk out into the field, barely jumping when the cool, refreshing droplets begin to pound into my skin. It's not long before I'm soaked and my entire outfit is ruined. I don't mind, though. I'm not planning on going back there anyways.

I sit down in the grass, not even minding how it dirties my dress, and hug my knees close. When I slip my eyes shut, I'm reminded why I love the rain so much.

In moments like this, I can't distinguish my tears from the rain

I don't know how long I sit like this, my eyes shut and the rain drenching me. Eventually, my body stops shaking from the sobs that have now subsided and any evidence of my breakdown has been washed away. I'm almost at peace when I hear that voice, that stupid, addicting voice, ring out behind me through the storm.

"I'd say you'll catch a cold, but I don't think you'd care much"

I swallow hard, cursing my heart for the way it jumps. I open my eyes, but keep my gaze firmly forward across the training field.

"Especially since it's coming from you," I add on, grateful for the lack of tremor in my words.

"I guess I deserved that one," Bucky concedes softly, his voice getting closer. My body begins to shiver with the anticipation of him being close, the response purely visceral and out of my control. I just hope he thinks it's from the rain.

"You think?" I scoff lightly, not having the strength to be angry anymore.

It's silent for a long while, and I almost begin to think that he's left and gone back inside. I'm proven otherwise when I see Bucky walk out from behind me, standing right in front of where I sit with my knees drawn to my chest. Against my better judgement, I look up.

And there he is, drenched like I am and an unreadable look upon his stupidly handsome face.

"Bucky-"

He extends out his human hand, and my words die, "Dance with me."

Every part of my heart beams, and it’s an effort to keep the fluttering of my heart out of my body language. I pause for a moment, almost as if to give him time to retract his hand. When he doesn’t, I hesitantly meet his gaze.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” I whisper. His half-smile grows as he looks down at me with what almost looks like…adoration.

“I don’t,” Bucky confirms, his voice like sugar and pine, “But for you I’d do anything”

I can’t even try to hide the visceral effect his words have on me. With a thousand butterflies batting in my stomach and my heart beating viscously out of rhythm, I allow a small smile to grow on my lips. A new excitement in my chest, I reach up and slip my hand into his large, rough one calloused with work and time. It fits mine perfectly, as always, and his touch muddles my senses and wakes me up all at once, as always.

As he helps me stand, the rain still pouring down on us, he tugs me close to him so suddenly that I stumble right into his chest. A small laugh escapes my lips as I catch myself on his broad chest. Bucky’s so close, so warm, so intoxicating to me that every fiber of my being yearns for his proximity. I’m nothing but a firing hum of nerves and sparks being this close to him, with a hand on his chest and his arm secured around my waist.

And we dance.

There’s no music, there’s no reason. We just dance. Bucky’s magnificent at it, every step dripping in ease and cool confidence that only makes me love him more. I’m so caught in the moment that every thought of a reciprocated or unrequited love has been banished from my mind. All that exists is here and now, underneath the downpour of the heavens with the cacophony of nature as our song.

He twirls me around, making water splash up and a giggle bubble out of me when I slip and fall directly into him. His body rumbles with low laughter when he catches me stopping my fall. Bucky doesn’t even have to say a word for me to know he’s making fun of me, so I slap his chest with a huff of laughter.

“What?” Bucky’s amused voice is the harmony to the melody of the rain.

“I can feel your judgement from here,” I point out, but before I can raise my lightened gaze to meet his on my own, a metal hand hooks under my chin and gently turns my face up until our eyes clash.

Suddenly, I’m not so humored anymore.

Neither is he, I can tell. The air is different—still light with joy but now corded with something deep, rich, and intangible. His piercing blue eyes seem to be burdened with a million different thoughts, but I can barely bring myself to breathe let alone ask him what is going through his beautiful mind.

Bucky doesn’t say a single word, though. He doesn’t have to. My eyes glance down to his lips for no more than one half of a second, and by the time I’ve returned my gaze to his, he’s closing to distance between us and connecting his lips to mine.

I’ve never understood what is so special about kissing in the rain. I get it now. There’s something so dichotomously beautiful in this moment, in the cold, relentless rain and the desperate, burning heat of Bucky’s lips moving against my own.

Again, no words are needed for us both to understand. This kiss is everything that has been bottling up over our friendship. It’s every quiet moment in the library and loud moment in our arguments. As his hands tug me closer and ignite my skin as if it were burning clean off, as his lips and tongue move with mine, every thought and worry and tear-filled, longing night washes away. The very thought makes me sigh into the kiss, and finally we break apart only for the need for air.

Bucky doesn’t let me pull away an inch.

His arms keep my locked close, his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath. He nudged my nose with his before pulling away only enough to meet my gaze. One hand of his cradles my jaw, his thumb running lazy circles on my cheek.

“Does this mean you like me?” I whisper, a humored glint already lighting my gaze. Bucky laughs roughly, his voice sending shivers down my spine that don't go unnoticed. Rather, the other hand he keeps on my waist lifts to absently trace the path of the shiver, almost making my knees go weak.

“I more than like you,” Bucky quips, a content smile taking over his features. My heart misses a step and I don’t dare to dream.

“You really like me?” I taunt, and another heart-warming laugh pours from those perfect lips.

“You’re gonna make me say it, doll?”

I swallow thickly, my eyes not leaving his. I don’t dare to say another word, leaving the challenge up to him. Bucky sighs, moving the hand he keeps on my spine to cradle the other side of my face, now cupping it in his full grasp. He presses a long, gentle kiss to my lips before pulling back enough to where his lips still graze mine as he speaks.

“I love you, Y/N. Always have. Always will.”

My knees nearly go weak, and suddenly I'm so very grateful for the rain's ability to hide what is a drop and what is a tear. I'd never hear the end of it from him if he knew that's what his confession brought me to. When one of thumbs catches a stray tear, though, I know he's fully aware.

"I love you too, Buck."

Bucky smirks before me, bringing his mouth close to my ear and sending another shiver racing down my spine, "I figured that much out, sweetheart"

"Oh whatever!" I announce, hitting his shoulder but leaning in closer to his mouth that now trails from my jaw back to my lips. He presses a sweet kiss to my lips before holding me close to his chest and looking up into the sky that downpours upon us.

"Rain therapy, I guess it really does work," Bucky remarks.

"I would say I told you so, but-" I'm cut off by Bucky suddenly grabbing me by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder.

"What was that?" Bucky calls up to me, spinning me slightly and only making me giggle louder.

"Bucky, I'm in a dress!" I protest. He slaps my ass smugly and begins to walk with me still over his shoulder back to the compound.

"I know, let's get you out of that"

As my laugh tumbles out of my mouth, it twirls and dances and gets lost with the pounding of the rain and the rolling of the thunder. Once again, I'm in the debt of the rain, and I can't help but smile at it gratefully as my best friend and the love of my life walks triumphantly with me over his shoulder into the midst of Tony's nice party. Neither of us care about the looks we receive, though. Neither of us even notices.

Turns out that if you ever get turned into a worm, Bucky is hunting down the person who did it and getting turned into a worm too. “So we can be together, Peach.”  He was so proud of his answer, his softly rounded cheeks jutting out from his wide, pleased grin until you asked him why he left you a worm instead of making them reverse the spell. An expression somewhere between chagrined and indignant crossed his features, his smile slipping off his face as he mulled over your words. 

He immediately demanded a do-over. 

"Okay, what if—" you start again, “—I was in a cult?" 

Bucky purses his lips, his eyes never straying from the sliver of skin showing as he casually flicks open another button. "What type of cult?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well yeah,” he dryly intones, one brow raising. “ I need to know if I'm bringing weapons for a rescue mission or if I'm joining you." 

“You’d save me?” He hums in response, of course, he would. You raise yourself up on your elbows, jostling his hand, his fingers deftly moving back to your chest. "And you’d join me if I wanted to be there? No questions asked? You’d sign over everything and be with me?"

"Peach." Another button gone. More skin unveiled. His cool finger traces up the path he’s created. A hint of a smile curves his lips, and warm eyes rake across your face. "I'd follow you to Antarctica wearing only a pair of shorts and one glove if you asked."

It’s a good answer. He knows it and he knows that you know it too. A slight smirk pulls at the corner of his lips when he realizes that you're going to let him have that win.

"Hmm." You flop back down, goosebumps following his light touch, the rough pads of his fingers on your soft skin setting your nerves aflame, a needy thrum building. "What if I decided to stop eating sweets? Gave up all your desserts?" 

That gets his eyes off your chest. 

The fact that he’s now perturbed almost makes you laugh. Cults are fine, drag him to the edge of the world, but he draws the line at you not wanting baked goods. Specifically his baked goods. You meet his gaze, challenging his darkening stare with your own. Your brow quirking mischievously.  "What if I only wanted pickles?”

Bucky grimaces, a shudder wracking through his large body. He inhales, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. 

"Pickles," he whispers under his breath. Two more buttons. The slope of your breasts comes into view, and he bites his bottom lip in an obscenely sweet gesture. His attention returns to your amused face with a brief shrug. “Well fuck, Steve is going to hate you when I change the whole menu to pickles. I mean pickle pie doesn’t have the same appeal as a sweet peach pie, but if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Laughter builds in your chest, spilling out in waves. Bucky traces the side of your breast with his knuckle,peeling the shirt back inch by inch until they spill free.

"Hello ladies,” he murmurs, his soft lips brushing over each nipple, a warm spark winds itself down your stomach, settling between your thighs. He wants more of you, his hand drifting down the soft planes of your belly, heading to his favorite dessert. 

Still…

There’s one more question you want—need—to ask him before he really distracts you.

“How did you know…” You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, trailing the pad of your finger across his smooth forehead, down to the tip of his nose, and across the seam of his soft, lush lips. “That I was–nevermind.” 

“Know what? Ask me whatever you want.” 

“How did you know I was the one?” It’s something that’s been on your mind for a while. You’re not entirely sure where it came from, only that it won’t leave your brain now that it’s settled in there. You’ve always been naturally curious and hopelessly romantic.  It’s been burning your tongue for weeks now. You know he loves you, there’s no doubt of that, but you want to know why. So you continue, pushing past the wildfire of nerves clawing up your veins, and you ask him. “How do you know you love me?”

It gets quiet.  You no longer hear the ceiling fan or the faint sounds of traffic outside your window. You do hear the way his breathing slows. Trepidation lashes at you, and you hesitate, a sinking feeling rushing down your spine. “Uh, forget it.” You avert your eyes, staring at the dancing flaming. 

Part of you wants to snatch the words back and hide them away. Another part of you, that hopelessly hopeful, romantic part, hopes he doesn’t let you down. 

He doesn’t. 

His hand lifts off your skin and catches your chin, tilting your face towards him, his thumb sweeping across your bottom lip, Bucky’s brows cinch in, and his eyes find yours. 

“Oh, Peach.” 

Bucky swallows, and his adam’s apple bobs along the column of his throat. Your fingers trace the movement, and he takes your hand in his, turning it over to kiss your palm. His expression shifts, warming under your gaze until you feel as if you’re looking at the sun. Emotions that always sit below the surface of his crystalline eyes rise up in a wild torrent of love and devotion and adoration. Your chest gets warm, and the heat spreads up your neck to your cheeks.

Your breath stalls, catching in the base of your throat, vulnerability rushing through your veins like ice, and you turn your head to take a breath, unable to handle the sheer depth of love reflecting in his deep blues.

“I just know.” 

The simple statement leaves his lips as they curve into a smile. “Its instinctive, the same way I know to breathe. The second I saw you that day in the bakery, I wanted you. God, I wanted you so bad. And y’know I would have been happy just to see you come in every once in a while and smile at me. Then it snowed, and we got trapped, and we talked for hours…”he trails off with a pleased noise in his throat. 

“That night was incredible.” You smile fondly, recalling your first unofficial date, the day you both consider your anniversary. 

“I knew when we had our first fight, and all I could think about was how to get you to smile at me again. Or how I’ll be at work, and everything sweet and beautiful reminds me of you.” 

Oh. 

You don’t know how to respond. You don’t have to. Bucky’s not done.  

“Your laugh is the best damn sound I’ve ever heard.” He gets his boxers off in one hurried move, sitting back on his haunches, his large hands sliding under your thighs and around your ass, hooking under the band of your panties. “I love the way you get caught up in your books, you make this little face when you’re reading something—” Easing them down your legs, his lips following the lacy material until they’re at your ankles. His eyes flicker up, and your breath hitches. “Naughty. One of these days, I’m going to recreate those filthy little scenes you love so much.”

He climbs up the bed, his large body covering yours. His nose brushes along the column of your throat, and he inhales you. 

“Y’know I didn’t really like peaches, I was more of a chocolate guy. Then you came along and made me crave them.” He admits with a shake of his head. 

 He chuckles at your surprised expression. “It’s true. Didn’t even care about them that much until you. Now I can’t live without them. Can’t live without you.” He confesses against your lips, nipping the bottom one, raking it gently between his teeth. “And I can be having the worst day, and all I need is to hear your voice, and the world is right again.”

He sweeps his hand under your leg, moving it up, his thick thighs slotting between yours, his bare chest warm against your skin. Bucky lowers his weight onto you, placing his hands beside your head. 

He can feel it—that second little heartbeat that drives him crazy– can feel you shift under him, can feel how wet and warm and ready you are for him. 

"You let me love you Peach. And that—"Bucky slides into you with one languid, sure stroke, the familiar stretch sends you into a tailspin of heady sensations. His head drops to your shoulder, a shuddery gasp leaves his lips, his gruff fuck breathed into your ear.  “—is the single best gift you have ever given me,” he rasps, slowly, slowly pulling out, leaving his plush tip resting inside you, your pussy clenching down desperately trying to bring him back, wanting to feel every inch of him, needing to be full again. 

“That's-oh oh fuck- that's not a gift Bucky,” you manage to moan out as he thrusts back inside you, his powerful hips slamming into yours. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into his soft muscular chest.

His lips graze the side of your throat, peppering soft, lingering kisses. “Yes. It. Is.” His eyes wander over your face, taking in your pleasure-contorted expression, brows drawn tight, lips parted as the sexiest little noises fall from them.  “Yes it is,'“ he repeats softly, reverently, his strokes getting faster and deeper and harder,  the urge to tear you apart consuming him. 

 “Best damn gift I’ve ever gotten, and I swear to cherish it with every breath I take.”

There’s a solemn weight to his words, a vow, and a promise all wrapped up into one declaration.

“And look how well we fit together Peach. You feel so good wrapped around me, so damn tight and wet and perfect, you can't tell me we weren't made for each other,” he roughly pants, drawing your attention down to your joined bodies, the sight of his cock driving into your tight cunt sending a shiver down his spine. “You make me feel so good. Can’t blame me for being so addicted to something so fucking sweet. Wanna spend all night making you feel as good as I do. You gonna let me do that aren’t you? Gonna let me stretch and fuck this little pussy until she can’t take anymore.” 

“Bucky I-oh god.” Your gasps turn into uncontrollable sobs as an array of sultry sensations overwhelms your senses. Grabbing the headboard, he pushes deeper, giving you all of him. A filthy little grind of his hips makes your walls clench down so hard you can feel each veiny inch of his cock sliding over your spot. 

S’close, s’close. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you’re about to cry that you can’t take it, you need to come, his thumb rolls over your clit, and the tight band around your belly snaps. Everything hits you at once. Your eyes roll back, your nails scratch down his back as a low whimper preens in your throat. Bucky is relentless. Frantic and sweet and needy. His fingers intertwines with yours, kissing you throughly, moaning into your mouth, pleading for just one more, fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, coaxing more sensations from your sensitive cunt until you’re falling apart, again and again, only stopping when he’s gotten everything he wants from you, his pace slowing as he finally let's go, groaning your name over and over as he comes. 

You rest in a haze of pleasure, arm splayed over your eyes. Nodding when he murmurs not to move, the bed dipping and springing up when he stands up. The sounds of the bathroom door opening, followed by the faucet turning on, briefly fill the room. He’s back before you can get cold. Bucky gently cleans you up, tucking himself around you, resting your head on his chest. 

He waits until you’re asleep, and he starts speaking again. 

“Peach, in a few weeks. I’m going to ask you something.” Bucky grazes your lips, a soft lingering kiss, only pulling back when you murmur incoherently. “I have a ring picked out. Two actually. I haven’t decided which one is better for you, but I’ll figure it out. I hope. And I bought a new suit and got you a dress.  I’ve been practicing my proposal with Steve. He keeps saying it's going to be perfect; I think he’s tired of me freaking out in the bakery. I can’t help it though, I’m so nervous, but I want you to be mine more than anything.  

His tone lowers even though it's just the two of you in the house, wrapped up in each other. His words are for you and you alone.

“You really want to know how I knew I loved you? I knew when I realized that you don’t have to do anything but exist, and that’s enough to make me happy. I'm going to make sure you always know that. Every single day." He kisses your forehead, his words whispered against your skin. "I'm greedy for you though. I blame you for doing that to me, and now I want a little more from you, Peach. A lifetime more. Hope you’ll say yes.”

->A Lifetime More

->Chubby!Baker Bucky Masterlist

->Main Masterlist

You two have been seeing each other to 'talk about your grades' after school. You don't really know how it all started, it just happened and you sure don't want it to end. You've been needy lately due to the fact you haven't been able to 'talk' with him after school for almost 3 days.

Usually he would fuck you everyday, but he's been so behind with grading, he decided to take a break, so he rejected you, making you mad. "Does anyone know the answer?" Steve's voice broke you out of your thoughts. No kids answered as they didn't know the answer and the girls sat there admiring how hot he looked.

“Y/n, how about you?" You rolled your eyes huffing. "Well, if I didn't say anything when you asked the class, why would you call me out?" Your sassy tone surprised you and others as you were never known to talk back. People in the classroom watched as his eyes darkened. "Detention." Was all he said, as he walked to his desk and pulled out a paper.

He walked back to your desk and placed the paper in front of you, looking at you dead in the eyes. You know you are gonna be in big trouble when school is over.

———

The bell rang, announcing it was time for everyone to leave. You on the other hand had detention and boy were you looking forward to it. You took your time, walking around the school, talking to friends, even getting a snack before entering the room. Steve stood at the board, cleaning it off, face changing when he saw you.

His mouth was in a straight line, arms crossed over one another. "You wanted to see me, Mr.Rogers?" You couldn't contain the smirk that was on your face, sucking on the lollipop you got from a teacher. "Don't play coy with me, Y/n." He walked over, grabbing you by the throat.

“You think you can talk back to me, all because I didn't give your needy pussy attention?" You ignored him, sucking on the lollipop, looking up at him. He huffed in annoyance, grabbing the lollipop and throwing it on the floor, the crack of the candy being heard around the classroom.

“Hey, that's my lollipop you-" Steve stopped you from talking, manhandling you into his lap as he sat down. "I don't give a fuck, what it is. You're gonna answer me when I talk to you." You whimpered at his harsh tone. "You think you're all big and bad, embarrassing me in front of all your classmates?"

You didn't answer, looking down in shame. “Huh?" He smacked your butt, making a loud slap noise heard around the room and a moan fell from your lips. "N-no, Daddy, I'm sorry! Didn't mean to have an attitude. I just wanted you to fuck me!" Steve laughed, shaking his head.

It's too late to apologize, now. Get on your knees and show me how sorry you really are and I may think of fucking you." You followed his instructions, sinking to your knees, so you were at eye level with the obvious boner in his pants. You slowly unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants off with the help of him hovering up.

You palmed the bulge of his boxers, licking your lips at the sight. You took his cock out, making eye contact while giving him kitten licks, teasing him. He tapped your cheek, giving you a warning. "Don't play with me, Y/n." You wrapped your lips around him, taking him deep in your throat.

You used your other hand to jerk off what was left that you couldn't fit in your mouth. You let spit rub down his cock and over your hand as you sucked him off. Steve pulled your hair in a makeshift ponytail. "Such a messy girl." He sighed, feeling you hollow your cheeks before coming off him with a 'pop'.

You were too deep, still stroking him as you looked up at him. "Do you like when I suck your cock, Daddy?" Steve ignored you, grabbing his belt and wrapping it around the back of your neck. Your mouth was on his cock, as your head was being pushed down to the point where is cock hit your uvula.

You tapped his thigh, rapidly trying to tell him to calm down, but he didn't listen. His grip tightened on the belt as he thrusted his hips up, fucking your throat. Your gagging noises could be heard as tears blurred your vision. He let go of the belt, groaning. "Fuck." You coughed, holding your throat to get air in your lungs.

You barely had enough time to recover, when you were being pulled into the table. He ripped the skirt you had on, revealing you and no panties on. "You fucking whore, don't got no panties on." He slapped your ass making you moan. You smiled, shaking your butt, taunting him. "Only for you, Daddy." Steve groaned at the name, stroking himself.

He teased your hole, pushing his tip in and out slowly. "You think you deserve to be fuck?" You bit your lip, nodding your head, quieting a whine that was gonna come out your mouth. "Yes Sir, you should fuck me. I've been a good girl." Steve hummed his question. "Have you? Have you been a good girl, Y/n?" You agreed, trying to back up and push him deeper into you, but a hair pull stopped you.

You held high as you looked into his eyes. "So you think giving Daddy attitude is being a good girl?" You slowly shook your head, looking at the ground. He then turned around and walked to his desk, pulling out paper and a pencil before putting it in front of you. He bent you over the desk and rubbed his tip near your entrance.

“D-daddy, what's this?" Your shallow breaths were heard as you felt his hard on, enter you. "Just because I'm about to pound this little pussy, doesn't mean you are not in detention. Do the work." Once he finished the sentence, he pushed into you hard.

A loud moan came from your throat as you were forced on the desk. He took a moment to let you get used to his size and rubbed your hair. Once you caught your breath, you picked up the pencil and began answering the question. Before the pencil even made contact with the paper, a hard thrust was put against your ass.

You moaned, scrambling to hold onto the desk as his powerful thrusts began. He held his hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet him. "D-daddy!" You didn't care how loud you were. It all just felt too good. "You better be doing that work." He warned before grunting at how tight you were.

His voice was all blurry and muffled in your ears as you felt his cock hit deep spots within you. His hands came underneath your connected bodies and ripped your top off, freeing your breast. He fondled them, rolling your nipple in his fingers as he listened to you whine and squirm in his hold.

He laughed you for a moment, hearing you whine. "Shush, Daddy has to make a call." He reached over and grabbed his phone, calling his friend, but that didn't stop him from still punishing your pussy. He wrapped his hand around your mouth, quieting your screams into muffled words.

“Hey, Buck, I just wanted to see if you're still down to go to the movies?" Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the fact he called Bucky for that question.

The worst part was, Bucky or Mr. Barnes was your last period teacher. Who was the one who gave you the lollipop. Steve didn't try to slow some of his thrusts, not caring about the clapping you could hear in the background. He stood on his top toes, thrusting into you, hitting your g-spot making you scream in pleasure.

Steve growled as he slapped your ass. "What's, what noise?" He asked Bucky, who definitely knew what he was doing and who he was doing it with and just between the two of them, they've thought of sharing, but that's for another time.

“Alright man, I'll see you later tonight because ONE of my students got detention." You knew he was talking about you and it turned you in even more at the fact.

He hung up the call and grabbed you by the throat, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. It was full on tongue, teeth clashing together, moans and groans in each other's mouths. You two pulled back for air as his thrusts got harder. "D-dada- gonna c-cum!" Steve could feel you clenching around him tightly as he rubbed your clit.

You jolted at him, rubbing your sensitive bud. "Come on, Y/n. Cum for me, baby." He leaned down and nibbled on the sweet spot on your neck. You didn't even realize that you already came, eyes shutting close as you saw white come in your vision. Tears welled up in your eyes as you came, all hearing around you was muffled.

Steve grunted at how you clenched on him before feeling his own release coming. "I'm gonna cum in you, Baby. Gonna fill you up." You moaned, meeting his thrusts. "Put a baby in me, Daddy." He moaned, at the thought of you being pregnant, walking around your house and school with people not knowing your teacher got you pregnant.

“Yeah? You want me to put a baby in you? What is your father gonna think about your teacher impregnating his sweet little daughter." Steve was getting turned on by his own dirty talking, feeling his thrusts getting deeper and harder.

It was until you reached by him and grabbed his balls to where he came. You two moaned in sync as you felt his liquid spill into you. He shortly pulled out, slapping his cock against your ass a few times until you started to go for your clothes and backpack.

He grabbed you back, pulling him into his chest as you could feel his cock harden. "Where do you think you're going?" You turned around, looking at him, confused. "Home?" Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Oh no, you still have detention. You still got 3 hours." You gulped knowing 3 hours meant rounds.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ You think as you watch Bucky laugh at something Sarah said. ‘Maybe I’m not pretty enough for him anymore?’ His eyes flicker over to you, shooting you a smirk before he looks back at her, touching her arm softly with his metal one. ‘What could he be saying for her to laugh like that?’ You don’t know why you're doing this to yourself, but you continue to watch. Every laugh, every touch, every word sends pain through your chest.

You don’t notice Sam looking over at you, and you don’t see how he shoots daggers at Bucky and his sister. The only time you are brought out of your haze is when you hear shouting, blinking away the tears in your eyes. Your gaze focuses on Sam pushing and punching Bucky, screaming at him. You watch as he turns and begins shouting at his sister. 

You get up and decide to leave because watching Bucky fight back and defend another woman and his actions feels more painful than watching them flirt. After walking for a while, you come across a secluded area with a beautiful ocean view, feeling so lost in your head that you don’t get to enjoy the sounds of nature around you. Your mind was too busy racing with thoughts of not being good enough for anyone anymore that maybe you should’ve never fallen for the blue-eyed soldier's smile or sweet words.

Because you left, you don’t notice Bucky’s gaze focusing on the empty spot or that he no longer hears Sam screaming in his ear. You don’t see the utter panic appearing on Bucky’s face or that he begins to spin, frantically searching for you. You are so lost in your head that you don’t hear him screaming your name, you don’t hear him finding you, you don’t hear the utter relief in his voice when he whispers your name.

Because why would you? This man you thought was supposed to love you and only you, who wasn’t supposed to hurt you, did. Knowing how insecure you are, pulling you deeper into your mind that, of course, you wouldn’t notice him looking for you or finding you. Because you didn’t think Bucky cared enough to come looking for you, you thought that he’d be too lost in Sarah’s eyes to notice you missing. 

“Baby?” Bucky walks forward, “Doll?” His brows furrow as he doesn’t receive a response, walking so that he’s in front of you. His heart jumps in his throat when he sees how far he’s pushed you. Bucky quickly crouches down, taking your tear-soaked cheeks in his hands. “Babydoll, I’m so sorry! Fuck, I’m such an idiot. Baby, baby!” He strokes your cheeks with his thumb, desperately trying to bring you out of this. His arms wrap around your body, picking you up and carrying you to the house, dismissing Sam and Sarah when they try to step forward. 

He carries you to the guest room, cradling your face into his neck as he whispers sweet nothings against your hair. Bucky lies down, bringing you with him, holding you tightly against his body. “I’m so so sorry, babydoll. You are the only one I have eyes for, believe me! You are the reason I wake up in the morning, the only thing I look forward to.” His blue eyes flicker down to your face, noticing that yours are focused on his face, finally brought out of your state but staying quiet. 

Bucky strokes your bottom lip, staring at you lovingly. “I love you so much, and I will forever be sorry for what I’ve done. I should have realised that trying to make you jealous wasn’t right and was pathetic. I have such a beautiful dame on my arm, yet I felt the need to be a jerk.” His eyes fill with tears, and a sigh of relief leaves him when you roll over and cuddle into him. 

“I love you too, Bucky. But please don’t do it again.” You look up at him, pleading with your eyes as you don’t know if you’ll survive being hurt like that again. 

“Of course, doll. I’ll never do it again. You’re my doll forever and as long as you have me. I’ll continue making it up to you.” He places a soft kiss against your head, holding you tight against him as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

thank you for reading!

But with one glance into what used to be the conference hall, none of that mattered. Panic rose in Bucky’s chest, and he planted his dress shoes firmly on the tile just outside the doors.

This was a mistake.

Stopping next to Bucky, you let out a low, impressed whistle. “Wow,” you breathed, then glanced up at Steve. “You’re sure we’re invited to this thing?”

Stark’s New Year’s Eve parties never disappointed, and as the grand finale of the publicity tour, he had gone above and beyond for tonight’s gala. Ambient light shone on the sea of unfamiliar faces, glinting off their expensive jewelry as they ebbed around the transformed ballroom. Their classy black formalwear was accented by glitz and glitter, and the tables adorned with gold place settings and decorations managed to be more extravagant than gaudy. But the strings of lights and balloons hanging from the ceiling made the room feel smaller, more claustrophobic, and somehow Bucky was the only one who noticed the walls closing in— 

“Of course,” Steve said, unconcerned. “You’re both on the guest list.”

Bucky huffed out a bitter, halfhearted laugh, and Steve raised an eyebrow at him. Tickets to the gala had been raffled off to donors for several thousand dollars apiece, and staring in at the crowd of tech bros, business moguls, and socialites, it couldn’t be more obvious that Bucky wasn’t one of them— of course he was on the guest list. He was there as a favor, as a kindness. A gift from Tony Stark himself.

Bucky’s invitation to the gala wasn’t the only olive branch that had been extended that day. The first time Bucky read through the article— his article— when it went live early that morning, he was as surprised as everyone else to see a statement from Tony near the end.

“I’ve never been one to take the high road,” Stark said. “I’m not the type to forgive and forget. But if you people think that I’m letting the man who murdered my parents not only walk free, but also live on my [redacted] property, you’re stupider than I thought. Barnes was the Winter Soldier, yes, but things change. And it only takes one iota of interaction with that crotchety centenarian to see that he never would’ve done any of that [redacted] if he had a choice to begin with.”

Tony’s endorsement carried significant weight. Steve was quoted in the article, too, of course he was— but Steve’s bias was common knowledge. It was a given that Steve would always vouch for Bucky; even when Bucky had nothing, he had Steve. Public forgiveness from one of the most influential men in the world— a man who had directly suffered from Bucky’s time as the Winter Soldier— was monumental. 

But standing there at the threshold of the party, Bucky was beginning to think that this invitation was more of a cruel prank than a show of goodwill. Some kind of trap, maybe. A golden opportunity for Bucky to fuck everything up, once and for all. He glanced sideways at Steve, but Steve’s stoic demeanor did nothing to ease Bucky’s nerves. 

These events had been foreign for Steve too, at first, but now he fit in easily. Of course he did. While Steve Rogers could be awkward and honest to a fault, Captain America had adapted. After years of practice he could slip into that role, faking laughter and schmoozing with the best of them for the evening. He looked completely unconcerned by the crowd that waited inside; this was just another day on the job for Steve.

On Bucky’s other side, your excitement was palpable. You had never been to an event like this, and of course you hadn’t brought anything nearly fancy enough to wear. While Bucky and Steve got ready in the apartment, Natasha had swept you away to the closet that stored all of the formalwear used by agents during undercover missions. When you returned, your hair was done, your makeup was applied flawlessly, and the dress… holy shit, the dress. It clung to you perfectly, showing just enough skin, and Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes— or his hands— off you. He didn’t miss the triumphant smirk Natasha shot your way when he stepped up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, or the way Steve licked his lips as his gaze traveled down the expanse of your chest. He didn’t care. Being able to touch you, to hold you like this— he was the luckiest man in the world.

The faint scent of gunsmoke that lingered in the fabric only made you that much sexier. 

Standing there in your dress and heels, maybe you were a little nervous. You fidgeted with your hands as you took in the scene, twisting and pulling at your fingers, but you would be okay. With all your carefree charisma, Bucky knew you would acclimate quickly. 

Sure enough, when you met Bucky’s eyes, you looked thrilled— but he couldn’t hide the worry from his face quickly enough. He tried to unclench his jaw, tried to relax his brow, but there was no fooling you; your mouth curved into a slight frown as you saw right through him.

On any other day, Bucky might have been able to do it. Despite his standoffish silence and his propensity for panic, he might have been able to blend in, to smile and nod and wave, to survive until he could escape. He had survived far worse, after all. It should have been an easy, if not enjoyable, evening. 

But today was anything but ordinary. Bucky’s name had been trending online for over ten hours, and his nerves were fried. 

When his article began gaining traction early that morning, it was quickly picked up by the cable news stations; his face had been plastered across every television screen in the country all day. Before, he might have had a chance at staying under the radar. But tonight, in this crowd of people who had been hearing his name, seeing his face, and listening to his story all day, he was going to stick out like a metal thumb.

Of course, after standing there in the doorway so long, the whispers had already begun.

“That’s him— look—”

One by one, heads raised. Hundreds of gazes burned right through his suit, scorching his skin and heating his insides to a rolling boil. The high-pitched ringing that started in his ears made him wince, but somehow the screech wasn’t loud enough to drown out the deluge of hushed voices, the whispers that spread like wildfire through the crowd. After just a few moments, it seemed like everyone in the room knew that the Winter Soldier was standing just outside.

“Did you read the part about the serum?”

“About his arm?”

Bucky shrunk into himself, hiding as best as he could inside his six-foot-plus frame. He had been stupid, he realized, when he decided to leave his gloves upstairs. Stupid to think he didn’t need them, stupid to think he could do this. He curled his left hand into a fist, as small as it would go, as if he had any chance of concealing it inside the cuff of his tailored suit jacket.

“He was held captive—”

“They said he was tortured—”

If he ran, people would notice. He couldn’t run, because that would only make him look worse, make more people look and watch and whisper about him. His suit jacket was suddenly unbearably tight around his chest, but he could still walk. He could… say he forgot something upstairs, he thought frantically. And instead of going to the elevator he could go out the front door, could leave and disappear and never come back. 

But just when that vice clamped down on his ribcage, you wrapped your hand around his clenched fist.

You were subtle about it; no one in the ballroom would notice this tiny gesture of tenderness, but the warmth of your hand against his was startling enough to command Bucky’s attention. Your thumb worked in gentle circles, sending pleasant, calming feedback tingling up his arm, and when you pressed carefully along the plates of his palm to ease his fingers open, the pressure around his chest loosened along with his grip. He inhaled a slow, shaky breath, and you intertwined your fingers with his. 

Your hand fit so easily inside of his. So perfectly. 

“He didn’t want it.”

“He tried to stop it.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

Just ahead, Steve was looking back at him and waiting. At his side, you gave Bucky’s hand a supportive squeeze and gently pushed forward.

There were hundreds of people watching Bucky, but you and Steve were the only two that mattered.

You walked into the party together. 

The carpet in the ballroom was an industrial-looking mix of gray and black, and if Bucky focused all of his attention on watching the pattern swirl and repeat with each step, he was almost able to ignore the whispers. He was almost able to ignore the hundreds of eyes that followed him across the room, like a pack of hyenas studying their prey. 

Some attention was to be expected, of course, walking in next to Steve. Steve turned heads wherever he went, whether he liked it or not; stares and speculation were nothing new for him. But this time, people weren’t staring at Steve— they were staring at Bucky. 

He fucking hated it. 

The last time people had been more interested in Bucky than Steve had been at the trial, and the memory of those camera flashes and clamoring reporters made panic swell in his chest. He held his breath as the tide rose around him, higher and higher with every step he took through the crowd. 

He couldn’t see the pattern on the carpet anymore. The waters were too dark. 

But just when the surf began to lap at his neck, a buoy: Sam and Natasha waved from their assigned table on the other side of the room, catching his attention. 

“Nice of you all to finally join us,” Sam teased around a mouthful of food when you approached. A rope tossed, and Bucky clung to it— he scowled and narrowed his eyes at Sam to hide the pure relief flooding through his veins. He pulled out a chair for you before sitting down across from Sam, but Steve remained on his feet. 

Whatever Steve was saying to the others, Bucky wasn’t listening. He was too focused on the weight of Steve’s hands on his shoulders as he stood behind Bucky, and his firm, reassuring grip. The tender little half-moons Steve rubbed with his thumbs had Bucky melting into the contact while he blinked the anxious haze from his eyes, and when Steve gave his shoulders a quick squeeze before continuing on toward the VIP section, Bucky missed his touch instantly. 

Still, Bucky couldn’t help but smile. This desire for Steve’s comfort, for his touch, was worlds away from how he used to recoil; it was lifetimes apart from the bitter resentment Bucky had harbored for so long. 

Steve had to go now, but Bucky didn’t mind— he felt more amused than abandoned as he watched Steve’s retreating back, his broad shoulders set with resolve. This party was yet another demand on the Captain’s endless list of responsibilities, that was all. Steve had appearances to make and hands to shake. You and Bucky were here as guests, but for Steve, this was work. 

It was okay, really. Bucky understood. But his next inhale came louder than he intended, and he coughed slightly to try to conceal the almost-gasp, too late. You gave him a sideways look, and he smiled apologetically. It was an accident, an unnecessary gulp of air; he didn’t expect to be able to breathe so easily while waves were crashing all around him. But sitting with you and his friends, he found his head was still safely above water. 

Sam watched Steve go, shaking his head. “You know what they say,” he said solemnly. “Once a guy gets his fifteen minutes of fame, he forgets all about us little people.” Bucky was too busy fussing with his cloth napkin, unfolding it and smoothing it across his lap, to notice when Sam turned to him with a cheeky grin. “Half expected you to be up there, too, kissing ass with Steve.” 

At the words kissing and ass and Steve, Bucky looked up and blinked stupidly. If Sam noticed the slight flush that spread across his face, it didn’t seem to phase him, and your amused huff was quiet enough that only Bucky could hear it. “Your ugly mug was all over my TV this morning,” Sam continued, jabbing his fork toward Bucky as he settled back against his chair. “Straight out of my nightmares, I swear. I couldn’t escape it.”

Bucky glared at Sam, but before he could formulate a response, a waiter stopped by the table to offer around a platter of something bite-sized and insufferably fancy. You plucked one of the unidentifiable snacks off the tray and dropped it straight into your mouth; Bucky took one, too, but set it on the edge of his plate. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, and he wasn’t feeling particularly daring tonight. Maybe that was for the best— your eyes widened with shock at the taste, and you coughed before forcing yourself to swallow it. 

“Did you watch any of the coverage?” Sam asked, luring Bucky’s attention away from your watering eyes and back across the table. His casual tone seemed forced now, and Bucky’s heart dropped while he shook his head. 

No, Bucky had spent the day keeping as far away from the news as possible. It had been difficult enough for him to read the article on his phone that morning, sitting beside you on his unmade bed while Steve was in the shower. His heart raced faster and faster with each paragraph, he was drenched in a cold sweat by the time he reached the end. 

But that was the beauty of it, wasn’t it? He reached the end. It was over. 

The article was exactly as Karen said it would be: Bucky’s story, his interviews, complemented and fleshed out by additional research she had gathered. What he hadn’t expected, though, were the interviews she had done with other people. The quotes she used were never more than a few sentences— this was Bucky’s story, after all, not theirs— but they were expertly placed, adding substance where substance was needed.  

Tony’s endorsement was the most shocking, but he wasn’t the only teammate Karen had interviewed. There were a few lines from Dr. Banner explaining some of the medical procedures Bucky had endured, and Peter Parker (who was very popular with the younger crowd, you told him) spoke of Bucky like he had cured cancer one afternoon after spending his morning rescuing kittens and helping grannies cross the street. Natasha wasn’t mentioned by name, but the anonymous source who emphasized the cruel details of the brainwashing methods that had been used on him couldn’t have been anyone else. 

Sam’s contribution was the most comprehensive. He didn’t sugarcoat the condition Bucky had been in when Sam found him years ago, or the subsequent ways Sam had watched him struggle to find his footing in this new life. But that honesty made his following commendation all the more meaningful, and Bucky swallowed around a lump in his throat as he read, feeling exceptionally grateful for his most unexpected friend.

Steve was quoted several times throughout the article, but Bucky had to skim over those parts; he couldn’t bring himself to read them. Bucky’s last sliver of dignity was cobweb-fine as he sat there on the bed, blinking at his phone and fighting to keep his breath slow, and if he read Steve’s words there would be no stopping the tidal wave of emotion that kept threatening to spill. He had heard it all before, anyway— Steve’s devotion, his admiration for Bucky, how guilty he felt for everything that had happened. How he would do anything, including but not limited to becoming an international fugitive, for Bucky— none of it was new, but Bucky had never allowed himself to believe a word of it. 

It was easy enough for Bucky to convince himself that Steve was wrong when Steve was the only one saying those things; his self-loathing was too heavy for Steve to lift on his own. But now Steve’s voice was just one of many, his long-told testaments nestled within a few thousand words of corroborating evidence— and for just a second, Bucky allowed himself to consider that maybe Steve was right. Maybe Steve had been right all along.

Bucky still wasn’t quite sure he believed it, but his resolve was running dry. 

You weren’t mentioned anywhere in the article. “I’m biased,” you explained with a kiss to his heated cheek when he noticed. “No one would take what I say seriously when they find out who I am.”

“When they— what?” Bucky furrowed his brow. They wouldn’t believe you when they find out you’re a… person? Maybe not a hero like the rest of them, at least not in the traditional sense, but—

Your soft chuckle halted his runaway thoughts. “When they find out I’m in love with you,” you murmured, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “Conflict of interest.”

Oh. Right. Bucky wanted to laugh, but all he managed was a sharp exhale and a grimace. He couldn’t say it, but you understood; the bed creaked as you snuggled closer and wrapped an arm around his tense shoulders, squeezing him tight. 

The article wasn’t all feel-good endorsements and heartwarming anecdotes. While helpful, they would be meaningless without the truth, and Karen spared no details when recounting what Bucky had told her about his time as the Winter Soldier. About the abuse he had endured, the torture he had survived. The things he was forced to do, and the guilt that haunted him still.  Even with you pressed up close, following along on the same screen, Bucky almost couldn’t bear to read it. 

He felt exposed to the bone. It had been hard enough for him to bring all of those suppressed memories to the surface, to face them on his own and speak them aloud with just you and Karen listening. And now those memories, those words he had dredged up and spit like venom through his bared teeth, were printed for the entire world to read. 

He forced his brain to keep reading, to carry on like everything was fine, but he couldn’t stop his physical reaction. His hammering heart, his tensed-solid muscles, and the soft whirs of distress from his left arm as he clenched and unclenched his fist— traitors, all of them.

Here were his secrets, laid out flat and on display. He was terrified, and his body knew— but at the same time, there were tears brimming in his eyes, because his friends— and he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but he was too goddamn dizzy, he couldn’t— he got a head rush of oxygen with each deep breath, because he could finally breathe.

He didn’t know just how crushing the weight on his shoulders had been until it was gone. 

You rubbed Bucky’s back while he cycled through those rapid-fire emotions, one after the other, like he was making up for years’ worth of feelings all in one go. He choked out a laugh, then blinked furiously and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, then chuckled again and shook his head. If he was thinking straight, he might have been embarrassed. But you just pushed his sweat-damp hair away from his face and held him, and eventually the swell of emotions subsided. He dried his eyes, sat up straight, and offered you a shaky smile— he was exhausted, a bit numb, and so, so relieved. 

But then, his phone began to ring.

It was like when the story of the botched mission broke back in November, but exponentially worse. This time, it wasn’t just a couple of low-ranking reporters trying to get ahold of Bucky for a quick statement. Now it was news station executives. It was the New York Times. It was talk show hosts and bloggers and publicists, all trying to get that first exclusive interview— because after their initial read-throughs, they could tell this story was going to be big. 

It was too much pressure. Bucky couldn’t handle it on his own.

But the thing was, he didn’t have to. 

On your suggestion, he shut his phone off and went to the gym with Steve for most of the day. You stayed behind to finish packing and keep an eye on the news; you promised that if anything important happened, you would let him know. With you as a buffer between Bucky and the world, he was able to spend his last day at the compound with his oldest friend, boxing and lifting weights until his muscles shook and his mind was quiet.

At the party, Sam was still talking, and it took Bucky a moment to tune back in. “They’re saying a lot of good stuff,” Sam continued with a crooked smile. “You know it’s a big deal when those talking head assh-” he glanced at the surrounding tables and lowered his voice, “-when those talking head assholes on TV can’t even find something to vilify you for.”

That was news to Bucky, though he tried not to let it show. You glanced at him, a quiet pride in your eyes, before quickly lowering your gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly.

You shrugged. “Not important.” 

You were right, of course. 

Natasha cleared her throat. “I heard there are some activists in DC calling for an internal investigation,” she said. She concentrated on her plate, pushing her food around almost absentmindedly, but Bucky knew better— her voice was light in that way that meant she knew more than she was letting on. Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, but no matter how intensely he stared, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “They’re demanding some kind of systemic change,” she continued. 

Okay, well, that seemed like it might be good to know— but when Bucky turned to you, his mouth hanging open slightly, your attention was elsewhere.

There was a gleam in your eye as you watched a waiter approach with another tray of hors d’oeuvres. It seemed you hadn’t learned your lesson the first time around, and Bucky frowned when you grabbed another mystery snack off the tray and held it up to your face to inspect it. After a moment of consideration, you threw Sam a cheeky half-smile and offered it to him. 

“No way,” Sam laughed, crossing his arms in front of him. “I’m good.” 

The first course came and went before Steve managed to break away from his responsibilities and return to the table. Bucky thought he would’ve been exhausted after schmoozing at the bar for the last hour, but Steve was almost giddy with excitement— his honey hair was mussed in the front, his smile permanently fixed on his face. He grabbed an unused chair from a nearby table with gusto, knocking a tray of full plates out of a passing waitress’s hands in the process.

“Oh, god damn it— fucking shit—” Steve cursed as he scrambled to catch the falling tray. The Captain’s choice of language earned some stares from the neighboring tables, but Steve’s enhanced reflexes prevented a true disaster. He caught the airborne dishes with centimeters to spare. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said hurriedly to the stunned waitress, making sure the tray was stable in her hands before collapsing onto his stolen chair beside you with a sigh. Steve’s knees were spread wide as he leaned back and loosened his tie; the top button of his shirt was already undone, and Bucky’s heart flipped when Steve caught his eye and shot him a lopsided grin.

“Hey, Steve, how’s it going?” Natasha asked from across the table. Too loud, too direct, and with one glance at her face it was clear that she once again knew something the rest of them didn’t. Bucky should’ve been used to that by now, but it was still unnerving to see. 

“Great, great,” Steve said dismissively, though his grin didn’t leave his face as he turned to you. “You guys havin’ fun?”

“Tons of fun,” you said. “Here.” You picked up the now-cold bite-size appetizer off of your plate and held it out to Steve. 

“Don’t—” Bucky began to say, but Steve opened his mouth and leaned in toward you. You giggled as you fed it to him, but Bucky could hear your heart racing; Steve’s eyes never left yours as he closed his lips around the food. The intensity of Steve’s gaze was hot enough to burn, but you didn’t back down. 

Meanwhile, Bucky’s collar suddenly felt a bit too tight; his whole body was warm. The electricity in the air was palpable, and across the table, Sam and Natasha shared a sideways glance.

But then Steve frowned. He leaned back in his seat, his face scrunched in disgust, and you cackled as he swallowed the bite. “Ugh,” he said when he could. He looked at you like you had committed the ultimate betrayal; Bucky had to laugh at his furrowed brows, his distrustful eyes. “What was that?” 

“No idea,” you said gleefully while Steve shook his head like a dog, as if that would make the taste go away faster. 

Bucky tried to keep his expression neutral, but his lips twitched as he passed Steve his glass of water. He hadn’t expected Steve to be this relaxed tonight, but it was a welcome sight. Steve drank the water hurriedly, and when he came up for air, he shook his head. “Evil,” he said to you, but he was grinning. “You pull that on him, too?” he asked with a nod toward Bucky.

You feigned offense. “I would nev—”

“Tried to get me with it,” Sam interjected. “You should know better, Steve. Gotta be something wicked about her if Buck is so into her.” Steve almost looked insulted, but you and Bucky were both laughing, so Sam continued. “You can’t afford to have a soft spot like that.”

“I don’t—” Steve started, too loud. He was growing frazzled, which was strange; his defenses were down, his emotions on full display. It was rare to see Steve like this at home, let alone in a crowd—

Oh, no.

“You know what I think, Steve?” Natasha teased, leaning forward. “I think you’re whipped.” 

Steve let out an exasperated sigh. “What does that even mean?” He tilted his head to the side, his lower lip pushed into a pout, and Bucky knew that look—

“Steve—” Bucky said, but it was too late.

“Means I can get you to do anything I want,” you said, a devious lilt to your words. Steve met your eyes, and there was a moment of silence before he broke into giggles. His cheeks were flushed as he shrugged and opened his mouth, searching for words, stalling for time. 

“Oh, you know how it is, Tasha,” he finally said, a saucy smile breaking across his face, and Natasha’s eyes lit up with delight. “Things were so weird with me and Buck, but we just needed some help, and—” his voice cracked slightly as he turned to you, “— and I love him so much, and you’re perfect for him—” 

Bucky sent you a panicked look, and he could see the dots connect in your mind. “Steve,” you said sharply, to no avail. 

Steve had already returned his attention to Natasha. “And we just had the best week ever— it’s not even about the sex, you know? It’s more than… I mean, the sex is great, don’t get me wrong, but—”

“Steve,” you said again, and finally, finally, he heard you. He froze, a deer in the headlights at the realization of what he had just said out loud. When he lifted his eyes to yours slowly, he looked guilty as sin. “Have you been drinking?” you asked, softer.

The pink tint to his cheeks went cherry red, and he fell forward and buried his face in his hands. 

“Thor told me not to tell,” Steve said, his voice muffled but at least no longer weepy. “Because you’re not allowed,” he said, peeking between his fingers to look at you before turning to Bucky. “And you’re definitely not allowed.”

Bucky grimaced; after Thanksgiving, he wasn’t tempted by Thor’s liquor in the slightest. But even though Steve was allowed to drink— he was allowed to have fun, and no one was upset with him— he was still hunched forward, burning in a pit of mortification. Embarrassed heat radiated off him in waves, and Bucky almost reached out to comfort him.

But just when Bucky raised his hand, he stopped. The hundreds of eyes that had watched him enter the ballroom earlier had mostly lost interest by now, but Steve was always under some level of scrutiny, and his excited voice and overanimated gestures had garnered a bit more attention. Bucky swallowed roughly and settled his hands back in his lap.

Through all these years, Bucky and Steve had never been publicly affectionate, and after the week they had just spent together, Bucky wasn’t sure if he could keep his touch convincingly platonic. He wanted to hug Steve close, to laugh until Steve laughed with him, to tell him that he was okay and that being a little too tipsy at a party was perfectly normal. That Steve was perfectly normal. 

Bucky wanted to, but he couldn’t— so you wrapped your arms around Steve’s broad shoulders and comforted him instead.

If the other guests reacted, Bucky’s stomach was too full of butterflies for him to notice. 

Across the table, Natasha was grinning as she elbowed Sam. He dug out his wallet and silently passed her a ten dollar bill, shaking his head in defeat.

Steve took a deep breath, and after a moment he was able to sit up straight again. “Do you really have to go tonight?” His deep voice bordered on a whine, and he gave you his best attempt at puppy eyes as you sat back. “Can’t you just stay til the morning?” He turned in his seat, redirecting his begging toward Bucky. “You know Tony won’t actually kick you out at midnight, right? You can stay.”

Sure, you probably didn’t have to leave right after the party. But Bucky was itching to get on the road after six months of being locked up, and your little sedan was already parked out in front of the building, packed to the brim. There was the luggage you arrived with last summer, and the things you had collected over the past six months— all the fuzzy blankets and pillows, cooking utensils and pool floats. Bucky’s belongings took up much less room; he had his clothes and his knife collection, some books, and that box of memories from deep in his closet. 

There were things he needed to leave behind, of course. The majority of his firearm arsenal would stay at the compound for the time being, and Steve promised to keep an eye on his motorcycle. He would be stupid to move it in this weather, and it was protected from the elements inside the garage here. 

And it wasn’t like he was leaving forever. He wouldn’t be living at the compound any longer, but after this quick trip with you, he was still going to have to be there every day for work. He’d pick up the motorcycle when he got back, and if all went to plan, maybe by then he’d have a place of his own to park it. 

Bucky took a sip of his drink. “Gotta hit the road, pal,” he said gently. “Two hundred miles to cover tonight. Won’t be easy in this weather.” He smiled; saying it like that made the trip seem much more urgent than it was, but in reality, he and you had all the time in the world. The itinerary wasn’t exactly full, and reservations could always be broken. 

But that pizza shop in Burlington was calling his name, and you had a whole calendar of plans to work through.

“Promise you’ll call if you need help, alright?” Sam asked. It had been snowing for a few hours with no end in sight, and the roads were white with accumulation. “None of that survivalist sub-zero camping shit. If you break down, or slide into a ditch—”

Bucky sighed. “If we slide into a ditch, Samuel,” he said pointedly, “I will simply get out and pull the car back onto the road.” He lifted his left hand as proof. Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he nodded his approval.

Steve was still pouting. “I’m gonna be so lonely tonight,” he lamented to no one in particular, slowly swirling the glass of water in his hand. “Gonna be so cold. And breakfast!” He turned to Bucky with absolute devastation in his eyes. “No one for breakfast, and—”

You leaned in toward Steve and took both of his hands in yours. “I’ll make you as much breakfast as you want when we get back,” you said soothingly, but Steve sighed. “You gonna be okay, Stevie?” 

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah,” he said wistfully. “Yeah. It’s just— I’m so happy, y’know? For you two. Oh, look at you.” His eyes glistened when they met Bucky’s, and Bucky had to look away. Steve was drunk; Bucky had no excuse for getting emotional. 

But Bucky startled when Steve lunged sideways, reaching past you to wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” he mumbled against Bucky’s neck, his breath warm on Bucky’s skin. 

People were watching, so Bucky stayed perfectly still. He tried to be casual, tried to ignore the way Steve clung to him, the way he nuzzled just under Bucky’s ear in that way he knew wasn’t fair. With Steve distracting him like that, Bucky could almost ignore all of the curious stares, and the new round of whispers that fired up around them.

But Steve pressed a chaste kiss to Bucky’s cheek, and there was no coming back. Bucky might have been able to play it off, but as usual, his body betrayed him— the pink that spread across his face and down his neck was a dead giveaway that this kiss was more than friendly. 

But when Bucky glanced around, he couldn’t see the crowd, or their reaction. He could only see you, and Sam, and Natasha— and all three of you looked thrilled. 

Steve was oblivious, of course. “You’re gonna let me come visit, right?” he mumbled. “When you get a place?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky said softly. “Any time.”

Bucky didn’t want to dance.

He really, truly, sincerely, did not want to dance. Not here, not like this. 

“C’mon,” you pleaded, squeezing Bucky’s right hand as you tried to pull him to his feet. “Just one song. Or two. Please?”

When dinner was almost wrapped up, Steve was summoned back to the VIP area. Natasha and Sam both stood to go with him; they said it was for the free drinks, but Bucky mouthed a silent thank you to them as they walked away. Steve wasn’t quite sober yet, but under their watch at least he wouldn’t be able to do anything stupid. 

With your friends gone, you and Bucky found ways to entertain yourselves. You ate dessert, because it was there; you drank champagne, because it was there. There was no shortage of interesting people to watch, and Bucky laughed until he had to hide his face in his hands when you began to name and narrate the most insufferable guests. You were slumped against him in your seat, giggling and whispering the intricate backstories you created as he wheezed. 

His cheeks ached from smiling. Maybe these stuffy events weren’t so bad, after all. 

But then, in the middle of a fascinating story about Mrs. Trenchcoat from table twelve and the scandal she had caused with her gardener, the music that had been playing softly in the background crescendoed. Tables were moved, a space in the middle of the room opened up, and to Bucky’s absolute dismay, you decided you wanted to dance. 

It was cute that you thought you could move him. You might as well have been pulling on a lead weight; Bucky stayed firmly seated despite how you tugged at his hand. It was one thing to dance with you in the privacy of his living room, but this?

“Sweetheart…” Bucky stalled, his mouth twisting into a wince as he glanced nervously at the crowd. Many people were still seated at their tables, chattering away, enjoying their too-expensive meals and watered-down cocktails. Some had moved to the dance floor, though none of them were really dancing— they laughed and swayed, the awkwardness they should be feeling eased away by the drinks in their hands. 

None of them were paying Bucky the slightest bit of attention. But that would change— he knew it would change— the moment they saw the former Winter Soldier take to the dance floor. 

“Buck,” you said gently, bringing his focus back to you. Your head tilted to the side, a sly smile on your lips. “You’re an upright fella, yeah?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. He knew the slang was prehistoric, knew you were teasing, but he couldn’t roll his eyes when you sounded like that. Your silky smooth cadence, that smoky undertone— that was a bedroom voice, not a ballroom voice. He saw the gleam in your eyes, knew you were setting a trap, but he was defenseless; he fell for it anyway. 

You leaned forward, pouting, and his gaze was drawn down your chest to the plunging neckline of your dress. His eyes snapped back up to yours when you huffed, and it took everything he had to keep them there as you spoke. “You wouldn’t make your girl go dance on her own, now, would you?”

His girl. 

Suddenly Bucky was twenty years old again, wholly infatuated and in over his head. He remembered this feeling— the sweaty palms he had to wipe on his slacks, the uneasy understanding that the gal he was trying to talk up was way out of his league. But truth be told, those girls he used to chase after had nothing on you. And if he thought he was nervous back then, well…

But he had no reason to be nervous, he told himself. You were his girl. His. He saw it in every move you made, heard it in every word you spoke. And you were standing in front of him, asking him to dance— what kind of man would he be to deny you?

Bucky climbed to his feet with an unconvincingly resigned sigh. But he had to take a moment to steady himself, to blink, because the pure joy on your face was like staring at the goddamn sun— and the sun was staring right back. All of your warmth, directed solely at him. It was enough to melt a man. He was molten, gooey, unsteady on his feet as you led him to the dance floor. 

Either you didn’t notice the stares that followed the two of you across the room, or you had decided to ignore them, but Bucky wasn’t that strong. Some of the strangers were subtle, sneaking glances as they sipped their wine, hiding their mouths as they whispered. Others gawked outright, but it made no difference— that syrupy softness in his bones hardened again as ice-cold waters lapped at his heels. 

Bucky straightened his shoulders and dug in, still marching forward. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you, and he had already gotten this far. Even if the tide rose around him, he could probably hold his breath for one song. Could maybe stay afloat for two.

You stopped at the edge of the dance floor and turned to face Bucky, still beaming— at least, until you saw his face. He did his best to smile, but gave up almost immediately. That pained grimace he could force might fool some people, but not you. Never you. 

“They’re watching us,” he whispered as an explanation, the words coming out more panicked than he would have liked.

“Okay.” A new song was starting, a slow one, and you tried to move closer to Bucky. To get in position, like he showed you in the living room all those months ago.

But Bucky balked. He at least managed to keep himself from stepping backward, from causing a scene; his feet stayed firmly planted on the floor, but his arms were stiff at his sides, and a muscle in his clenched jaw started up a steady throb. You frowned, watching him with worried eyes.

This was your last chance, he realized. If you walked away now, people would forget about you— they would go home and say they saw the Winter Soldier at the gala, sure, but that was all. They’d say he was brooding and unpleasant, but that was inescapable. 

But if he took your hand— if he danced with you here, on display for everybody to see— well, that was something worth gossiping about. That would raise questions. Not just about him, but about you, too— because what kind of person would dance with a monster like him? You would be tied to him inextricably. Your reputation would suffer. Why would you want to be associated with the Winter Soldier when you had the option to avoid it? 

If you walked away now, they wouldn’t drag you into this. If you wanted to walk away now, Bucky would understand.

His thoughts were spiraling so quickly that his mouth couldn’t keep up. “They don’t have to know—” he choked out, shaking his head. “You don’t— if you leave, you—” 

You stretched up onto your toes and kissed him. 

This wasn’t just an innocent peck. This wasn’t the kind of kiss that could be explained away as something casual, or shrugged off as something between friends. This was your open mouth on his, your tongue flicking out to tempt his lips apart. Your hands on either side of his face, supporting him, holding him there until you felt him take a deep breath. Relax. Suddenly, the world was quieter. And if a few camera flashes happened to go off in the meantime, well, so be it.

No more questions. No more doubts. No matter what, you were here to stay.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you said when you broke away, a roguish smile curling your lips— and damn it, he loved you— “let's dance.”

Bucky was still a gentleman, of course. Didn’t want to be too forward. He offered you his left hand, which you took, then wrapped his right arm gently around your waist— but instead of leaving space between your bodies like he intended, you pushed forward to close the gap. 

It was unexpected, but he didn’t mind. Felt more natural like this, anyway— the familiar thud of your heart beating against his chest, and his own a slower, stronger echo. Looking down at you, he tried to hide his smile. “What happened to leaving six inches for Jesus?”

You snorted. “Oh, there’s no saving us now.” 

He chuckled at that, and you squeezed his hand, reassuring, before carefully lacing your fingers with his. Flesh and metal intertwined, one and the same. 

Together you fell into a gentle step, ambling around the dance floor, your clasped hands held proudly for anyone to see. You weren’t ashamed of him. You didn’t try to hide the reality of the hand you were holding, though that would’ve been impossible, anyways— the thousands of tiny lights strung like stars across the ceiling refracted off the exposed metal as he moved, a dazzling display. 

It was embarrassing. Ostentatious, almost. But your bracelet, your goddamn bracelet, was looped delicately around your wrist, and it shimmered alongside him— his perfect match.

Bucky was weak. He was losing it. He took a deep breath. 

The icy water that had been threatening to overtake him was shallow enough to stand, he realized. The soles of his shoes touched down against the rocky shore, and he sighed the tension from his shoulders.

You glanced up at him, smiling, because you could feel it— the relaxation in his muscles, the gentleness in his grip. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How could he explain his sudden certainty, this confidence that no matter how rough the waters were, he would be able to hold steady? If the words existed, he didn’t know them. 

He chose a different direction instead. “Don’t know this song,” he murmured as he swayed. 

“You don’t know a lot of songs.”

He glared at you. Lovingly, of course. “It’s not like the ones on your playlists, either.”

“Mmm, no,” you agreed. “This one is pretty old.”

One corner of his mouth twitched up, and he couldn’t resist. “Old like me?”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Not that old,” you said flatly. “After. In between.”

In between. All those decades, history that you could only read about, but Bucky had lived it— well, he hadn’t. Not really. 

The thought settled easier, now that he had heard it so many times from so many people. All of those years, the lifetime he spent as the Winter Soldier— yes, it was him. It was his body, wielded as a weapon, subjected to brutality no man should have to endure. It was his mind, scrambled and wiped, tormented until he had no choice but to comply. 

It was him. He was there— but that didn’t mean it was his fault. He didn’t have to grapple with that dichotomy anymore; both could be true. Both were true. 

In the most basic sense of the word, Bucky was alive all that time. But this? This was living. 

Soft blankets, a sitcom laugh track in the dark. Slow-building confidence and burnt meals for two. A bouquet of flowers, pancakes and coffee, naps in the afternoon. Clumsy conversations. Tentative smiles.

Intertwined fingers, the taste of your laugh against his lips. Nights spent wrapped together, whispering words too fragile to say in the daylight. 

Bucky’s darkest secrets, yes, but his brightest ones, too.

The harsh realities, facing his fears head-on. Acceptance of his past, and his present. You carried the weight of forgiveness when it was too heavy for him to bear alone.

But it grew lighter and lighter, day by day.

The music trailed off into silence, and when the next song began, your eyes shot up to his. They crinkled at the corners, and half a second later, it clicked. Bucky knew this song. 

“Elvis,” he said, his voice so thick with emotion it was almost a croak. The same song you danced to in the living room, all those months ago. At the start of this— whatever this was.

Bucky had never been too good at staying on key, especially not when he had to keep quiet, so he didn’t sing along. But he couldn’t resist breathing the lyrics against your ear, whisper-soft, for you alone. 

“Like a river flows surely to the sea,Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.Take my hand, take my whole life too,For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Your skin erupted in goosebumps beneath his words, and he smiled. God, he smiled.

If it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing, Bucky might have missed your next words. They were butterfly-meek, muffled by how you pressed your face against his suit jacket. “Do you think it was meant to be?”

“...Hmm?” He heard you, but that didn’t mean he understood you. His mind had been elsewhere.  

“Us,” you said, not clarifying anything in the slightest. “What if we didn’t meet like this?” 

Bucky wasn’t following.

“Do you think it would’ve happened anyway?” You looked up, serious now, expecting an answer.

Bucky huffed nervously. “You gotta give me more to work with, here, sweets—”

“If we weren’t stuck in here together for so long,” you explained slowly, with more kindness than he deserved. “If we just, like, bumped into each other on the street, would you still… would we…?”

He finally made the connection. “Be like this?” he supplied, hugging you close for emphasis, and you nodded. 

Bucky wanted to shout yes, of course. Wanted to tell you it was you and him, forever, no matter where or when or how. He wanted to quell your fears, reassure you, make it so you never had to wonder again. 

But that wasn’t the truth, and he knew it. 

Six months locked in this building had been stifling, sure. Bucky had resented it at first. But without it, with nothing forcing him to stay, he would have pushed you away at the first sign of trouble. He never would have fallen in love with you, because he never would have allowed himself to know you.

When you first arrived last summer, Bucky was all shattered glass and sharp edges. He held himself like a knife, like a warning— don’t come too close, he tried to say. His heart was a hand grenade, dormant for now, but sooner or later something would pull the pin. And maybe under other circumstances, he would’ve been able to convince you to stay away; if not forever, at least long enough for him to start running. To put distance between himself and the love he didn’t think he deserved, so when the detonation inevitably hit, he wouldn’t hurt anyone except for himself.

But trapped in this building, in this apartment, he had nowhere to hide. And you saw right through him, whether he wanted you to or not.

You saw his nightmares, and how the serrated edge of guilt cut into him as soon as his defenses went down with the sun. You saw how terrors from his past would sometimes get stuck on a loop in his head, and how no matter how irrational they seemed under the bright kitchen light, he couldn’t stop them. You saw his fears, and his doubts— was he redeemable? He didn’t know. Did he deserve kindness? He wasn’t convinced.

Yes, you answered, confident and bold enough for him to hear you over the turbulence of his thoughts. Because you saw his hope, too— you saw the gentleness in his heart, still there despite having every reason to wither. 

He wasn’t as damned as he thought he was.

And by some miracle, in that splintered mess of a human, you saw the reflections of something beautiful. He was in pieces when you met, hiding it as best as he could, but even beneath the flakes of gold holding him together you saw something worth waiting for. Something worth holding on to.

So yes, maybe this was meant to be. Bucky had lost faith in religion a long time ago, but something this perfect didn’t just happen by accident.

“I love you now,” he said, avoiding your question but giving you the answer you needed. He lifted your chin with a gentle metallic finger. “I love you,” he repeated, because that was what mattered— now that he had you, it would never stop being true. He didn’t know how to say it convincingly enough, but you knew what he meant. You always knew. 

You looked up at Bucky and smiled through your tears, and like snow in the sun of your radiance, he melted all over again. He was slush, a puddle at your feet. His own eyes felt wet; he blinked rapidly, and in the corner of his vision, a camera flashed.

It should have made him uncomfortable. It should have made him want to hide, because yes, people were watching him. Whispering about him. But even without looking, he could tell there was something different about how they were staring at him now. The stinging hate and burning vitriol he was used to was gone, and when he looked up, he found only curious eyes and soft, reassuring smiles. 

Maybe it was because of the article, or maybe it was because they were hardly looking at Bucky, anyway. 

They were looking at you. 

You were glowing with happiness, the brightest star in the sky. But maybe Bucky wasn’t the black hole he always thought he was. Like how his hand, intertwined with yours, glimmered under the lights— dancing with you, it seemed like maybe he was reflecting some of your brilliance. 

His light was dim for now, and only when the angle was just right. But maybe with time, it would grow.

Maybe someday he could shine, too. 

The falling snow hadn’t eased up all night, and when Bucky peered through the front doors, the view outside was equal parts beautiful and eerie. With everything coated in a thick layer of white, the road and lawn were indistinguishable. Your car, parked out front and waiting, was encased in a fluffy white shell.

At twenty minutes until midnight, you and Bucky escaped from the gala. You hurried to change out of your formal clothes in the lobby bathroom, shedding the gown and suit for more practical items: jeans and boots, winter coats. Gloves. With the last of your belongings in a small duffle bag, you went to the front door to wait. 

Bucky knew a lot about snow. It made it easy for him to cover his tracks when he didn’t want to be found, and even easier for him to stalk a less knowledgeable target. Snow could be used as insulation if needed, as a last-ditch effort to prevent hypothermia. It could be used to reduce swelling on an injury, or to numb a wound for stitching.

Snow could be bright, even at night. The floodlights outside of the building would normally stretch far across the grounds, but with the density of the falling snow, it was like that brightness was gathered up and kept near. The snowfall caught the light and reflected it upward, creating a luminous glow, and although his range of visibility was limited, up close he could see clear as day.

In the ballroom, the crowd began to count down.

“Ten… nine… eight…”

Bucky’s pulse was racing, his heart hammering in his chest. The thrill of impending freedom, and fear of the unknown— the rest of his life was a blank slate, and the possibilities ahead of him were endless. The past was the past, and here was his future: he couldn’t yet see what it held, but he welcomed it.

“Six… five… four…”

Your gloved hand squeezed his, bulky but still familiar. “Ready?” you asked. You looked up at him with adoration shining in your eyes, giddy with excitement, shaking a bit from the chill.

Bucky exhaled, and nodded. “Been ready, sweets.” 

“Three… two… one…”

The crowd roared as the clock struck twelve. Bucky grabbed your face between his hands and smashed his smiling lips against yours— hard, and only for a second. A quick New Year's kiss, because he was supposed to. He had to.

But then the doors slid open, and you ran. 

Snow also absorbed sound. The whoops and cheers echoing through the lobby were muffled as soon as Bucky stepped outside, and all he could hear was you. Your laughter as you fled, glancing back over your shoulder at him. The soft thuds of your footsteps, slipping on the covered ground. Your hummingbird heartbeat. It was all you. Only you.

Your sprint through the shin-high snow was more on par with Bucky’s casual jog, so after following you for a few yards he scooped you up in his arms without breaking stride. You screeched and laughed into the quiet night, holding on to his neck while he ran to the edge of the darkness. Just before the light emanating from the compound gave way to black, he turned on his heel and jogged back toward the building. 

He slowed as he approached, and when he reached the halfway mark he gently dropped to his knees. You rolled out of his arms and flopped into the powder, and he had to laugh; he had set you up for a much more graceful landing, but of course you had to do it your own way. 

“C’mon,” you urged as you crawled around, eventually settling flat on your back. “Snow angel. Don’t tell me you’ve never made a snow angel.”

“‘Course I have.” A century ago, maybe, on an undisturbed sidewalk before anyone had the chance to walk by and muck it up. But not since then— at least, never on purpose. Bucky reclined next to you, and though he gave a halfhearted attempt at moving his arms and legs, his attention was on you.

Bucky knew a lot about snow. But he had forgotten how fun it could be, if you could just look past the cold long enough to enjoy it.

He didn’t want to be sappy, so he didn’t notice the way the stars reflected in your shining eyes, and how it made his heart stutter. He didn’t notice the softness in your expression as you watched him crawl over top of you, or how you only had eyes for him, like somehow he was more beautiful and held more magic than the entirety of the cosmos above him.

The choices you had were endless, but you picked him. Every time. 

Bucky focused on the snowflakes that stuck to your hair, landed on your eyelashes, and melted on your cheeks as he leaned in and kissed you. 

You cradled his jaw with one gloved hand. The knit was soft, but it caught in his bristly stubble, and you used it to keep him in front of you even after he broke the kiss. “Bucky,” you said. He pretended he didn’t hear you, just so you would say his name again. “Bucky. Listen to me. I love you.”

He knew. He knew, he knew, he knew.

But then he gasped, his shoulders jerking straight up to his ears, when a handful of freezing wet snow smashed against the back of his neck. 

He arched away from you while you cackled, but that only made it worse. The icy slush slid down inside of his jacket as you scrambled to your feet, and by the time he turned to you, outraged, you were running.

You knew what you did. You knew what was coming. 

Bucky planned to let you run for a bit— was going to let you have a head start— but you didn’t make it far at all before you slipped, falling clumsily to your hands and knees with a shriek. 

It didn’t make any difference, anyway; Bucky’s aim was just as good at one hundred yards as it was at ten. He scooped up snowball after snowball, shaping them in his hands before pelting them at you.

He never missed.

After seven direct hits to your back, you stopped attempting to stand and settled flat on your stomach instead. “I surrender, I surrender!” you cried, the words almost unintelligible through your laughter. Bucky brushed the remaining snow off of his gloves, smug, and walked over to help you up. 

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” you panted as you climbed to your feet. “You’re gonna regret that so bad.” 

Bucky knew a lot about regret, too. He had made plenty of mistakes in his life. But if making you laugh like this was what counted as a mistake these days? Well, he could live with that.

“Forgive me?” he asked, grinning, because he already knew the answer.

“Always,” you said. “Because I love you.” He hugged you tight before you finished your thought. “Unfortunately.”

You did, though. You did.

Your lips met his and he couldn’t believe it. His body was numb, but not from the cold. “I love you,” you whispered into his mouth. “I do.” 

He almost asked you then. He wanted to. But you deserved more than a half-assed plan, deserved better than no ring and an impulse. You deserved more, but you wanted Bucky, and whatever messes that entailed. He patted his jacket pocket, as if what he needed would magically appear there, but of course it didn’t. Not yet. Not today.

You were both grinning when you broke apart, but you were trembling in his arms, your teeth chattering as your whole body shivered to keep warm. The frigid water was slowly soaking through your layers of clothes, and you couldn’t hide your discomfort any longer. 

“C’mon,” Bucky said, draping his arm around your shoulders. “You gotta change again. There are more clothes in the bag.” But when he turned to head back toward the building, he paused.

A small crowd had gathered just outside the doors. Still in their suits and formal dresses, they huddled together on the sidewalk, rubbing their arms for warmth as they chatted amongst themselves. It was a shoddy attempt at looking casual— like they would have come outside for any reason other than to watch.

Steve and Sam and Natasha stood at the front, of course, but there were others, too. Either to be supportive, or to be nosy— Bucky didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. He focused on the familiar, friendly faces. They were enough.

You both took a few moments to say goodbye to Bucky’s teammates. His friends. He promised Steve he’d call in the morning, and assured Sam that he would ask for help if he needed it. Natasha watched him with a self-satisfied smile, and Bucky hugged her extra tight— he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to thank her, but he did. 

The car was packed and started. The hotel room was booked and waiting. 

There was still that dark shred of doubt lurking in his chest— telling him he didn’t deserve this, that this happiness wasn’t his to keep. That voice would always be there, he supposed. But it was easier to ignore with his friends standing behind him, and the sun of his universe lighting his path forward. 

Silhouetted by the glow of the night sky behind you, framed in silver and starlight, you looked at Bucky with galaxies in your eyes. “Come on,” you whispered, your voice vibrating with excitement. “It’s time to go.” 

Bucky took your hand and followed you. He always would.

I imagine it as one night stands are Bucky’s thing. He’s really not into dating, that’s too much commitment when he’s dealing with stuff but it’s not like he can pretend he doesn’t have needs. His right hand can only do so much. 

If its one thing about living in the future that he loves, its how sex is much more open. He’s happy for it. His dick is happy for it. 

A night out with the team and a few drinks in, he can’t help but glance over every so often, to the pretty stranger at the bar. A couple more drinks in and he has his hands on your waist, his hips grinding on your ass, lips brushing against each other, soft little pecks becoming less innocent and you both know you need to be closer. 

His place isn’t too far, the second you’re out of the cab, his hands are on you, your legs wrapped around his waist, a trail of clothes leading to his room. He catches himself off guard with how he’s moaning, he can’t help it, you’re taking him so well, letting him take all the pleasure he wants from your body and he’s giving you so much in return. 

His hips are snapping against you, his hand gripping his head board, hes thrown you around in every position imaginable and your body feels like heaven. He normally doesn’t bother with names when he hooks up but fuck, he’s moaned and whined your name all night; you make his cock throb when you cry out for him. You couldn't even hold it in even if you tried, the way he pumped you full of his load, just to fuck it out of you with his cock filling you more, had you dizzy with pleasure. 

He’s had his his fair share of one night stands but none quite like you. None where his cock is ready to go for another round within seconds because his body is craving more of your sweet warmth.

By the last round, it’s so much more intimate than he’s used to and he realizes he likes it. He loves being able to take his time to just feel your body, relishing in the warmth of your fluttering walls. Those soft moans leaving your lips spur him on, he gives into his need to be touched, his body shivering when your hands trail up and down his back. It’s soft and tender, a contract to the way you clawed at him earlier but he loves it. You’ve given him the best of both worlds. 

His his thrusts are no longer slamming into you; hips hips gently rock, while he hands are laced with yours, keeping you pinned on the bed. Your legs wrap around his waist, and he can’t help it, moving his arms to wrap around your body, giving into the comfort of soft intimacy. You’re both exhausted but still desperate for each other, your final climax ending with your bodies wrapped around each other, clinging and moaning, hearts racing, waves of pleasure and sleep washing over you both.  

Usually he’s alert enough to kindly escort his hook ups out of his room and bid them a good night but after his last release, he just wants to sleep. His body is relaxed, every muscle in his body feels like jelly. You’re already softly snoring against his chest and he doesn’t mind at all, his body drained. He felt like he was floating. 

For the first time, he slept peacefully through the night, not a single nightmare crossing his mind. 

He blinked awake, smiling to himself when he felt your warmth still tucked by his side. He already thought you were pretty from the night before but now he really gets to see your features. The soft slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw. The little pout of your lips. Your lashes fluttering against your cheeks. The cute little snores you made, staying wrapped up in his sheets. He liked the way you looked in his bed. Sweet. Angelic. Just your bare skin and his blankets. He would have been happy to wake up to that every day.

He shakes his head, realizing he’s getting a head of himself. He can’t help it though. Something about you had him smitten from the moment he saw you. He decides to get breakfast ready, its the least he could do for you, he would never just send you on your way. He leaves you his Henley, figuring your dress wouldn’t be the most comfortable. 

When you wake up, you feel a little disoriented, blinking at the unfamiliar room you’re in. Then you realize you spent the night at his place and your cheeks heat up further, feeling embarrassed for staying over at a strangers house when they didn’t ask you to do that. You find your clothes neatly folded off to the side with his henely on top. You slipped it on, slowly making your way to find him, your heart beating out of your chest from how bad you felt. 

Why did you stay over?!

“I-I’m really sorry, I should have gone home last night, I know I could have taken a cab home-

Bucky felt his heart jump a little when he saw you in his Henley, something about it just felt right. Then he registered your words and he cut you right off, there was no way you were going to apologize when he had the most peaceful night of his life because of you. 

“No doll, I-I’m happy you stayed, I didn’t want-what I mean is I loved having you over- not in a weird way- ”He shook his head at his own rambling, blushing at the way you smiled at him. “I made us breakfast” He smiled shyly, getting you a plate and grabbing you some juice from the fridge. 

You can’t help the way he made you laugh and smile, your heart doing jumping jacks, as the both of you talked over breakfast. You keep reminding yourself he was just being sweet and it was just a one night stand but you can’t help but want to spend more time with him. 

He shared parts of his past and it broke you to know he didn’t sleep without nightmares. Your body heats up when he confesses he slept through the night with you by his side. Why did your one night stand have to be one of the sweetest people you had ever met. 

He offers to take you home; you slowly get ready, your stomach churning a little because truthfully you don’t want to day to end. You want to spend more time with him but you know its not your place. He takes you on his motorbike and you hold onto him extra tight, enjoying one last ride before having to say goodbye. 

He walks you to your doorstep and you expect him to give you a peck but his hands stay on your waist and he kisses you with passion. Your both lost in the kiss, lips moving softly, his hands pulling you closer. You both finally pull away for oxygen and his forehead is resting on yours, continuing to pepper little kisses in between breaths. 

His blue eyes sparkle, taking a breath before speaking, he hopes to god you feel the same way. “I know last night started off as a one time thing but, um, I was wondering...if maybe..I liked spending time with you so..we could..do you want to..

You look up at him with hopefully eyes, already nodding while he stumbles through asking you out, giddy at the way your bouncing on your heels, waiting for him to spit it out. 

“Would you like to go out? On a real date? with me?” 

You couldn't say yes fast enough, kissing him again. 

and of course one date turns into many dates because the more time he spends with you, the deeper in love he is with you. 

Tags:

He looked around for a moment, it seemed like he was the only person in here. Stepping into the dark library felt like switching dimensions in comparison to the loud bustling streets of New York, add in the incessant rain and it was a nightmare out there in the real world.

Bucky wiped his feet on the rug before stepping fully inside the library. He didn’t have anywhere to be, he was really only out because his therapist thought he was getting a bit too comfortable in isolation. Of course, that was true, however, he still despised having to interact with innocent people he had the potential to hurt.

The library was dimly lit and had books from floor to ceiling. There were even miscellaneous piles of books scattered around his feet on the floor. All of the colors that surrounded him were neutrals but they felt so comforting and inviting. The library he stepped into was cozy and he had no qualms about being trapped here while the rain poured outside.

Deciding to make the most of his time, Bucky walked toward the nonfiction section. He loved reading books that had anything pertaining to the military, it was something that had stuck with him through his childhood and into adulthood. He slipped into the narrow aisle and scanned down the shelves.

His fingers gently grazed the spines of the aging books in front of him. Bucky was slowly relaxing into the silence that the library provided for him.

His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

Bucky moved his focus from the books in front of him to the woman that was now browsing right next to him. She had her long light brown hair flowing down her back and a bit messy from the rain. The skirt she was wearing was black and entirely too short for the weather they were currently having, but the cream sweater with the Polo logo on it somewhat made up for the shortcomings of her skirt.

Bucky’s first thought was His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

Bucky moved his focus from the books in front of him to the woman that was now browsing right next to him. She had her long light brown hair flowing down her back and a bit messy from the rain. The skirt she was wearing was black and entirely too short for the weather they were currently having, but the cream sweater with the Polo logo on it somewhat made up for the shortcomings of her skirt.

He moved his attention away from the doe-eyed girl that was a little too close to him and refocused on the combat books in front of him. Funnily enough, the books about violence were distracting him from his fears of violence.

It took a few moments, but Bucky’s anxiety slowly trickled off until it was nothing but a dull ache in his chest.

That was until the pretty girl smiled at him, “Hi.”

Her tone was warm and kind and she was obviously inviting Bucky to have a conversation with her while they shared the aisle of old books so intimately.

His eyes widened slightly but he quickly took his composure back from the perfect girl in front of him that seemed to be stealing it.

“Hey,” he almost cringed as soon as he said it. His voice was much too rough in comparison to the gentle tone she was using to speak to him.

“Do you read a lot of nonfiction?” Her head cocked cutely to the side which made his heart beat a little faster.

“On the rare occasion I pick up a book, yes,” he answered after a beat of silence. He was mentally high fiving himself at such a collected response considering the effect she was having on him.

“I’m grabbing some of the old medical journals for some of my writing,” she answered the question without being prompted.

“What do you write?”

“I mostly do romance but my latest idea has been murder-mystery.”

“Oh, so you’re a novelist?” Bucky was beginning to feel more comfortable with the conversation now. The girl in front of him now felt like a breath of fresh air rather than a suffocating hand around his throat.

“Not exactly a superhero, but it pays the bills,” her smile was infectious and Bucky couldn’t help but grin.

“What’s your name?” He leaned back against the shelf behind him.

“I’m Amelia. But most of my friends call me Milly,” she answered him without breaking her gaze.

Amelia was very confident it seemed. But, not in a cocky way, her confidence was kindness. She radiated an energy that could only be described as pure gold.

“I’m Bucky,” he told her.

“I know. I saw you on the news last night, you save the world a lot it seems.”

Her comment made the tip of his ears burn red, “I guess you could say that.”

“Don’t be so modest. I think it’s cool, you’re like a real life comic book character,” her flattery was like ten arrows pointed straight at Bucky’s anxiety, slowly dwindling it down to a tiny stump that sat in the base of his stomach instead of the huge tree that once took over his entire body.

“You’re acting like you don’t have the coolest job in the world,” he rolled his eyes playfully at her, “You’re the one who gets to make the comic book characters.”

Their conversation continued and they slowly migrated over to the leather chairs in the corner of the room. They sat down next to each other and he told her his war stories while she took little sips of her coffee.

Every small movement she made, every little flip of her hair, all of her crossing and uncrossing of her legs, enticed Bucky even further into her spell.

“I love the rain,” Amelia said to him after he complained about the horrific weather, “It’s so pretty and calming.”

It confused him how she could find violent thunderstorms calming.

“The only reason I even walked into this library was to get away from the mess outside,” he replied back while looking through one of the windows to see that the precipitation had slowed down to a gentle mist now.

“Well if there was no rain, you would’ve never met me,” she smiled at him.

They had been talking for at least two hours by this point, but it felt like only twenty minutes. Everything was so easy with Milly. Conversation was like an ever flowing river with her, it just was so smooth and easy.

All he could feel was her energy, not the pain of his past, just her. For two hours, what happened to him fifty years ago was just that, the past.

She was pure light. She radiated warmth, she was what made flowers grow, she was what supported life on Earth, she was the sunshine.

Bucky looked down to check his watch and noticed the time. His eyes widened a little bit and he glanced back up at Milly who was happily chatting about her cats Moose and Sushi.

“Am I talking too much?” She suddenly stopped and looked down at her lap shyly.

“No! Of course not,” he quickly reassured her, “It’s just, it’s getting late.”

“Oh,” she said, a little disheartened he was finished talking to her.

“How about dinner?” Bucky didn’t even think about what he was saying until it was out of his mouth. It was very spur of the moment and he wish he could go back in time and think about the consequences that might come of taking her out.

“Dinner?” She repeated back as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah, I know this great Thai place a few blocks down,” he smiled at her trying to tamper down his own racing thoughts.

Her pale pink nails clicked against the now empty coffee cup in her hand as she thought, “That sounds great.”

The pair stood up and Bucky took notice of the cloudy sky no longer pouring rain. He almost smiled at the thought of how long they had been talking. Not one notion of violence or hurting her had crossed his mangled brain.

They stepped out of the library and into the street. Without thinking, Bucky grabbed her hand and guided her down the street.

Milly hoped he didn’t notice the pink tint on her cheeks and trembling hands.

The duo were both lost in their own thoughts about one another and walked in silence while the world around them moved at an impossible pace.

Bucky stopped at a door on the corner of the street that Milly had always assumed was abandoned.

“I’ve never been here before,” she commented to him as he opened the door for her.

“I don’t know many people who have,” he chuckled.

No one greeted them but that didn’t seem to bother Bucky who led her to a booth in the corner without any guidance from the staff.

Milly slipped into the booth first and Bucky very surprisingly sat on the same side she did.

Bucky was testing himself. He wanted to see how far he could go without any thoughts or flashbacks to the life he used to live.

Their shoulders touched and he basked in the warmth she brought him, both physically and metaphorically.

He looked down at her and she was trapped in his unwavering gaze. Her lips parted and Bucky’s heart hammered loudly in his chest. They didn’t speak, they just drank each other in like sweet wine.

“Can I take your order?” A woman with a thick British accent interrupted them.

Bucky’s head whipped around and Milly was ripped from her trance with him. Their picture perfect bubble had burst.

He cleared his throat quickly, “Sorry, um, yes I think we’ll both have the chicken pad thai and some water.”

The waitress chewed her gum loudly while writing down the order and Bucky offered her a small smile.

“Sorry, I just sort of guessed on what you would want,” Bucky said almost sheepishly.

“I like chicken pad thai,” Amelia responded back with a smile.

He locked eyes with her again, “Do you think you want to do this again tomorrow?”

She laughed cutely at him, “We aren’t even done with today.”

“I think it’s gonna go well.”

His confidence almost shocked her. All day it felt like he was walking on eggshells but now she felt like she was getting all of him, not just the parts he felt like showing. The thought made her stomach flutter.

Their meal went on with lots of flirtation. Knees touching and hushed giggles were like their own secret language.

When the bill came Bucky deflated. He wasn’t ready to give up the sunshine yet.

He put his card down and the waitress came back with the receipt far too quickly. Bucky felt his time with her winding down and coming to an end.

“Hey,” he blurted out, “Do you want to come to the tower with me?”

“What tower? Like the Empire State Building?”

“The Avenger’s Tower.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, “Are people even allowed in there?”

Bucky’s heart stopping smile appeared once again, “Of course, and now you have an invitation.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” she frowned.

“I won’t get in trouble. Tony’s not even in town this week. I think Steve’s the only person there.”

“It sounds like we would be breaking the rules,” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, “It makes it more fun.”

She sighed, “As long as we don’t get caught. I really don’t want to be in trouble with the most powerful men in New York.”

He smiled, “You could never be in trouble with me, doll.”

Amelia could’ve passed out. The dominance that oozed from just that sentence made her head fuzzy and knees weak.

She tried to play it off by rolling her eyes and he laughed again.

Bucky stood up from the booth and reached his hand towards her.

“This time we can take a car to the Tower. It’s probably unbearably cold outside, especially with that skirt on.”

“I’m wearing fleece lined stockings,” she defended.

He tried his hardest to not daydream about what was underneath those stockings.

The pair walked into the windy night of New York. The rain had returned as a mist that made the horizon hazy and gray.

Bucky tucked his dog tags into his long sleeve shirt. Similarly to him, Amelia was struggling not wondering what else he could do with his hands.

A car pulled up to the sidewalk and the two quickly got in.

Bucky brushed some stray rain droplets from his hair and she jumped back and giggled when they landed on her face.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and he silently wondered how he was going to get through the rest of the night without grabbing her by the neck and kissing the hell out of her.

She smiled up at his now serious and poked his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he said after she finished her laughing fit.

Her cheeks reddened and her nose scrunched. She really was perfect.

The traffic wasn’t as horrendous as Bucky expected and they made it to the Tower quicker than he thought they would.

She was enamored by the bright lights of the Tower. The glow from the building reflected in her brown eyes like dazzling stars.

“C’mon,” he interrupted her gawking, “I’ll show you around.”

Bucky escorted her out of the SUV and to the front of the building. He remembered feelings just like she did when Steve first brought him here, impossibly small.

“Let’s go in. I promise it’s much more impressive from the inside,” Bucky said to her.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” Milly asked one last time before they went in.

“If I say no will you still come in with me?”

“Bucky,” she whined, “Please don’t get me into any trouble.”

The pout on her lips sent his mind into overdrive. She made it hard for him to form sentences sometimes.

“I won’t,” he regained his composure, “It’ll be fun and if it’s not I’ll take you right back home.”

She begrudgingly agreed and they walked into the glamorous building.

Reinforced glass walls surrounded them and a few employees strolled by without a second glance at her.

“Wow, it’s really pretty in here,” Milly breathed out.

“It’s definitely not the tax bracket I grew up in,” Bucky chuckled.

“Do you guys live here?”

Amelia knew she was being nosy and almost immediately regretted asking. Bucky however didn’t bat an eye and answered her quickly.

“I share a floor with Steve on one of the top levels and Nat sometimes stays here, but that’s it.”

“You have your own coffee shop,” she said pointing to the 24/7 coffee cart situated in the lobby.

“It’s incredibly convenient,” he chuckled, “Do you want to see the upstairs?”

His cheeks turned red, he didn’t want her to have the wrong impression of him. Bucky didn’t want to have some one night stand with her, although he wasn’t opposed to taking her up there and fucking her stupid.

“Sure. What floor are you on?” She asked while walking toward the elevator. Amelia didn’t even catch the innuendo.

“Floor 8,” he stepped on the elevator, “Let me put in the stupid passcode.”

He punched in four digits and rolled his eyes, “Tony is way too serious about security.”

The ride up was quick and relatively quiet. When the doors opened to Bucky’s penthouse suite she audibly gasped.

“Wow. You live here?” Her tone was practically incredulous.

“Have for 3 years now, sweetheart.”

The room was mostly decorated with neutrals except for some artwork on the wall.

Bucky noticed her eyeing it and offered an explanation, “That’s Steve’s contribution, he loves to paint.”

“It’s beautiful here. I would be scared out of my mind to even cook in a kitchen as perfect as this one,” she eyeballed the million dollar penthouse.

“I’ll use that as my excuse the next time Tony scolds us for not eating at home enough,” Bucky joked.

Amelia turned her attention back to him, “Did you say Steve was home earlier?”

“Let me check, he might’ve gone out with Natasha,” he said while walking out of the room and calling out for his flatmate.

When he figured out Steve wasn’t actually home as he originally thought he leaned against the wall. He had barely any time to process that there was a beautiful woman in his apartment. A beautiful woman that he wasn’t scared of harming. Someone who took all of those bad thoughts away from him.

Bucky had never felt this way before. It was the first time in a long time he wasn’t scared of himself.

He sighed in relief at the feeling of not having to worry. It felt like he had just finished the marathon of his life and finally got to sit down when he was around her.

After taking a couple of seconds to process he walked back into the living room to see her sitting on the couch looking at the view of the city.

The wall was glass and it made for a beautiful backdrop in their home. Especially tonight, when the stormy clouds parted just enough to see the full moon.

He went to the kitchen quietly as to not disturb her and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Bucky took a deep breath and strolled towards the couch and sat down. He placed the wine glasses on the table in front of them.

“It’s beautiful out there isn’t it?” She commented.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said, staring at the side of her face.

“I brought some wine if you want any,” Bucky offered while pouring his own glass.

“No thank you, I hate the taste of wine,” she scrunched her nose again.

“I can grab some water or juice for you,” he offered quickly. He felt like a terrible host.

“No, that’s okay,” she finally turned her body towards his.

His breath stopped when he saw her brown eyes gazing into his own. Bucky didn’t even think about it when his hand touched the right side of her neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

She reciprocated quickly and grabbed the bottom of his shirt in her fist as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

Their lips moved against each other for a few seconds before he slipped his tongue in her mouth. She sighed into him and pressed herself closer to him.

Bucky picked up her smaller frame and placed her in his lap without breaking the kiss.

Millie straddled him and grabbed the short hair at the base of his neck.

“Fuck, Amelia,” he breathed out when he pulled away.

Her sweet giggle filled the room as their foreheads touched and their chests heaved in unison.

“You're really good at that,” she said, still out of breath.

He chuckled at her, “I wanted to kiss you all night. It’s a surprise I’ve made it this far.”

“Are you gonna stop now?” Milly tilted her head and pouted her lips.

Bucky threw his back and cursed, “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman right now.”

Amelia kissed a hickey on his neck and leaned in next to his ear, “I’m not asking you to be a gentleman, Bucky.”

It felt like all of the resolve he had left in his body had snapped and he wrapped his calloused hand around the soft skin on her neck. He squeezed the sides of her throat and watched as her eyes took on a glimmer he hadn’t seen before.

Milly challenged him with a smile he wasn’t expecting, “How did you know just what I liked?”

“I never pinned you for a girl who liked to be thrown around,” Bucky’s eyebrow lifted in surprise but the grin remained on his face.

“I never pinned you for a guy who liked to throw girls around,” she returned his smile.

Even with his hand wrapped around the delicate skin of her neck he wasn’t scared of hurting her. Bucky felt fully in control for the first time in a long time.

“Safe word is red, baby.” Bucky smirked after a beat of silence

His hand tightened around her throat once again and he kissed her. Amelia’s hips grinded down against his lap.

Her short skirt slowly started to ride up until Bucky’s hands found the hem and pushed it all the way up.

His hands wandered down from her neck to her hips. Bucky moved her against him. He felt his pants tightening to accommodate how hard he was.

Amelia pulled away from the kiss and leaned her head against his chest as he continued to move her hips against his own. All that could be heard were her shaky moans and the sounds of bucky sucking a trail of hickeys down her neck.

“Not so confident now, huh baby?” He taunted her when he felt her thighs shaking around him.

“Please stop teasing me,” she begged with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Aw, but you look so cute squirming on my lap,” he mocked her.

Gone was Bucky’s almost shy demeanor, now he was domineering and arrogant.

Amelia could feel herself getting wetter by the second, “Please, Bucky. Please fuck me.”

“Only because you sound so sweet when you beg.”

Bucky moved her and stood up from his position on the couch. He took his black shirt off and let it fall to the ground.

He almost groaned when he saw her look up at him from underneath her lashes. Her eyes were full of want and it made his chest hurt.

Amelia stood up from the couch and then dropped to her knees and looked up at him with a cute smile.

“Fuck, not as innocent as you seem huh?” He chided while she ran her hands up and down his jean clad thighs.

Her fingers ran across the prominent bulge a couple of times before she began to unbuckle his belt.

Bucky could tell she was reciprocating his teasing from before and teasing him.

She gentle pulled his boxers off and let his cock stand proudly in front of her.

Milly inhaled deeply and tried to keep her confidence from before as she stroked him gently. Before she put her mouth around Bucky she looked up at him and he gave her a small reassuring smile.

That gave her all the confidence she needed to take his length down her throat. She bobbed her head up and down until her eyes watered and mascara trailed down her flushed cheeks.

Bucky groaned out loud, “Jesus fucking Christ Milly. You look so fucking pretty with my cock down your throat and tears in your eyes.”

Amelia sucked hard on Bucky’s length and his hands found their way into her thick brown hair.

She stopped moving and looked up at him expectantly.

His jaw almost dropped when he realized she was waiting for him to fuck her face. She had to be created in a lab or something. There was no way she was that perfect for him.

Bucky’s hands gripped harder into her hair and he started to fuck her mouth.

He felt himself getting closer and closer as he fucked her mouth at a sinful pace. Bucky took her off his cock and Milly frowned.

“I want you to come down my throat,” she pouted.

Fuck, she feels like the answers to all of life’s problems.

“Not tonight. Tonight, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said pulling her up from her knees.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

She stood there for a moment without moving.

“Now, Amelia. Don’t make me ask again,” he warned.

This made her strip off her sweater and her ripped tights. She unzipped her skirt quickly and looked back to Bucky for instruction.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Bucky praised her and cupped her cheek.

His words were so kind and reminded her of the way he was earlier in the night. Amelia wasn’t sure which side of him she preferred, the domineering and brash Bucky or the kind and soft spoken Bucky.

She took a step towards his hulking frame and ran her hands over his abdomen. She felt his taught muscles twitch underneath her wandering fingers as he kissed her again.

He maneuvered her back onto the couch where they previously were and perched her body on his lap without taking his lips off of hers.

Bucky broke the kiss and whispered gruffly, “Over my lap.”

Amelia could tell by his tone that it wasn’t request. She shivered at the dominance he displayed and did what he said quickly.

Bucky ran his his large palm over the tan skin of her Milly’s ass and had to stifle a moan. Her body was a fucking masterpiece.

Amelia could feel his hard on pressing into her middle and she wanted nothing more for him to be inside her.

Without warning his hand came down harshly on the sensitive skin of her ass.

She gasped when she felt him spank her. She rubbed her thighs together at the feeling of the sharp pain.

Bucky took notice of this, “A painslut too? Very cute.”

Milly’s face turned pink at the name but she couldn’t deny that it made her feel that much more turned on.

Bucky gave her a few more before finally ending her anticipation and reaching down in between her legs.

She almost sighed in relief when his hand glided over her folds. Bucky rubbed small circles over her clit. His fingers went between her dripping hole and up to her clit torturously. All she wanted was for him to be inside her, in any way possible.

He was rewarded for his efforts with her cute moans egging him on. Finally, he slipped a finger into her and she gripped his thigh hard, surely leaving marks where her fingernails were digging into his skin.

He pumped in and out of her heat at a pace that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. He had a second finger and curled his fingers right into the spot that made her see stars.

Her pants were audible, “Please, Bucky! I’m about to cum.”

As soon as she said it his pulled his fingers out of her. She whined at the loss of contact and sat up from her position over his lap.

“Bucky, please!” She whined hopelessly.

“Don’t be such a brat, you’re gonna cum tonight,” he rolled his eyes at her.

Milly pouted up at his handsome face. Before she could say anything else she was being scooped up into his arms and trotted off somewhere.

“Where are we going?” The whine in her voice was still there.

“My bedroom,” he responded in a short manner.

Bucky opened the door to his bedroom and threw Amelia on the grey duvet of his bed.

She didn’t even get a chance to look around before he was once again on top of her kissing her.

Milly squirmed underneath him and let out helpless moans.

Bucky pulled away and let out a mocking laugh, “You’re so desperate for my cock huh? How did I find such a perfect cockwhore?”

Amelia wanted to cry at how badly she wanted him. It felt like she had been teased for millenniums.

Bucky ran the tip of his length through her folds to get her even more worked up.

“Please!” Tears clouded her vision.

The sight of her crying for him to fuck her was enough to send Bucky into a spiral. He finally pushed into her heat.

He threw his head back and they let out simultaneous moans. He slowly started to pump into her velvet walls.

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for me, baby.”

Amelia couldn’t form words all she could do was whimper and clutch onto his sheets as he pounded her into his mattress.

Bucky grabbed her leg and threw it over his shoulder and watched as her mouth opened into a silent scream at the new angle. He smirked as he fucked into her, he knew she was close.

“I’m gonna cum,” she panted out at him as she arched her back up into him.

He grabbed the headboard and set a brutal pace when he felt her tighten around him. Bucky was sure this was what heaven felt like.

He felt her constrict around him even tighter and arch her body into his own. Her moans came to a crescendo and she came undone around his cock.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling her cum around him was his final straw and he released inside of her.

Feeling him cum inside her made Amelia preen. They stayed connected for a moment before he pulled out of her and laid next to her panting body.

She turned toward him and pressed her head into his chest. Bucky kissed the crown of her head and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her body closer to his.

“Was that okay?”

Having Bucky as a neighbor is…hard. You overheard what his occupation is one night a bit back, and now you know why he’s gone so much at night. He’s a top of the line security guard for a huge hospital. He leaves at around 6:30 PM and doesn’t come back till almost 7 AM. But on his days off, which he gets quite frequently due to his twelve hour shifts every night, you can hear the thumping of the mattress. The springs when they squeak, the bed frame that nearly pounds against your wall. It starts around 1 in the afternoon, and goes in till late into the night.

He must have some amazing stamina, is all you can think, well…besides thinking about how amazing it would feel to be on his cock, in his bed- or yours- and how fucking good it would feel to have his lips to yours in a heated kiss that gets you fucking throbbing. You’ve heard Bucky’s grunts through the walls, how throaty they are, how deep they are. They make you wet, to the point every day when it starts, you have to put in earbuds or you’ll contemplate doing something to yourself, touching yourself.

But that also doesn’t stop you from laying there and listening sometimes, thinking about how good it would feel, how his cock would fuck you dumb. It doesn’t help that you’re a raging virgin, if that’s how you’d like to put it. Twenty five and haven’t had much experience. Some of the dates you’ve been on were been nice, but most felt rushed because every guy wanted to fuck you on the first or second date, even a little non consensual touching happened. And they weren’t worth any of that, obviously. They didn’t compliment you, most of them didn’t anyways, they didn’t kiss your cheek or bring you flowers, chocolates, or even a fucking small teddy bear. Nothing. It was bland talk, and dry laughs for the most part of the dates, and then immediately they tried to get up your skirt or in your pants.

You don’t like those types of guys.

And Bucky surely sounds like he brings home a different woman every time his bed frame bangs the wall, but that’s different…right?? He’s not leading them on. Because sometimes you’ll hear them ask about the ‘next time’ or if there will be another night, and he says no, he tells them that he only occasionally does more than a night, but it’s rare. The woman usually understands though, and she leaves.

But…since you moved in a year ago, something in Bucky has changed. All he wants to do is you. But he’s a bit stubborn, so he thought that maybe fucking the women he’s bringing home, so hard that it would catch your attention and you’d hop into his bed one night and he’d take you out to dinner or something, make a habit of you. But Bucky is almost positive now that he’s got that completely wrong. He’s got it all wrong. Especially when he holds the elevator doors open for you and you rush in, a small smile on your lips as you mumble him a ‘thank you’ that he hears.

The corners of his mouth lift up and the doors close, but he can’t help to smell you. It’s a little after lunch, did you just touch yourself? He smells the sweet fragrance and it’s killing him, yet this is how it goes weekly. His hands are in his pockets as you both silently wait for the elevator to get to the bottom floor. God it feels like it’s taking forever.

“Uh, so…” Bucky starts with a small scowl. How does he even go about this type of thing??? It’s been a while since he’s asked someone on a date. Usually he’ll find the ladies that he brings home at bars or at clubs that he sometimes works at over the weekends. But he’s not asked anyone out on a date in…a long time.

You keep quiet but your gaze falls upon him. These are the moments you realize how fucking tall he is, his shoulder width is insane, and how fucking good he looks. Bucky’s eyes don’t meet yours, not for a few seconds anyways. “I- i don’t do this often but…I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner?”

Did those words just leave his mouth???? Did they really? What even takes you more off guard is the fact that he says ‘he doesn’t do this very often.’ Huh?! “I- I’m sorry?” You ask, a bit confused and taken back. Times ticking, there’s only six more floors to go. “I was just-.” He starts but you give him a polite smile, “look, Bucky… don’t, I’m not looking for a one night stand. I can hear the fucking bed frame hitting the wall every night. I just can’t do that…i- i can’t.” You shake your head and turn towards the door before it opens.

Bucky is stuck to his spot in the elevator as he watches you leave, and his brows furrow. You could hear it all. And he definitely knows he fucked up now. He should’ve known that as sweet as you are and innocent-because let’s admit it, he’s heard your soft cries at night while getting off on your fingers- you’d think he’s a jerk.

But Bucky doesn’t just take home any woman. He takes the ones back that only want a night or two, and that’s it. And you’re the first woman, in a long time, who’s made him feel any sort of way.

As he watches you walk out the elevator and into the lobby, he’s frozen. Bucky watches you greet the elderly couple and chat with them for a moment before going on about your day, and he does too, once he’s able to move, but you’re sitting in the front of his mind for the whole day.

A week has passed, and you’ve run into Bucky once since then. He offered, again, to take you out on a date. This time, you almost went with it, but you didn’t. You hadn’t been hearing any sort of woman being brought over, so you think that maybe he’s being serious. Maybe this is his way of proving it to you.

But then last night, as you sat on your bed earlier, you could hear it. Well you thought you could, except this time it wasn’t a steady thump or creaking of the bed, the frame wasn’t hitting the wall. It was just the sound of his grunts and some kind of wet sound. You could hear him mutter and groan under his breath, and that’s when you knew that he was masturbating.

What else was Bucky supposed to do?? He’d gone almost two weeks by that point without fucking someone, and he was desperate. So he resorted to his hand, and fuck it he hadn’t of wished it were you and your sweet cunt. That’s honestly all he’s been thinking about for a solid few months now. That all the other women he brought home were you. Their moans and whimpers weren’t the same though. And he knew your pussy would feel different too. Yours is sweeter than any other pussy he’s ever smelled, your arousal makes his mouth water and his cock hard.

After another week of being shot down, even with no women being brought over, Bucky is starting to feel hopeless. He doesn’t want to bug you, he doesn’t want to be a creep, but he really wants you to give him a chance. Maybe he should take a new approach.

So after work, Bucky ran by the store and grabbed some flowers-that he very specially picked out for you. Thankfully he worked an odd shift today, so you should be up. He rushes to your apartment and knocks on your door, hoping you’ll answer. Bucky hears shuffling and then you pick up something, then he hears you at the door.

You look through the peephole before opening the door and you let out a sigh of relief before plopping the knife down on the table beside you. “Bucky…you’re home at a weird time…” you say with a small laugh. Bucky can’t help but to realize you know his schedule. That’s cute.

“Yeah I picked up a weird shift but uh…I wanted to bring these to you.” He says as he extends his long arm to hand you the flowers. Your eyes go a little wide and you feel heat rising to your cheeks. “I- oh they’re gorgeous, Bucky.” You can really tell he put some thought into them, and they look very expensive too.

They’re made up of reds, pinks, white, and some yellow flowers. There’s a few dark green pieces as well, and they’re very much real. The wrapping used for the flowers has white hearts on it, and it’s paper- not plastic. There’s pink twine wrapped around the bunch of stems to hold them together better, and there’s a little card sticking out of the center with a bumble bee stamped onto the outside of it. You smile and Bucky’s heart hammers in his chest. He’s never felt so nervous, not in a long time at least.

His eyes watch as you take the card and flip it open. Bucky licks his lips and swallows, hoping you’ll take him up on the offer. He fears this will be the last time he asks you if you say no.

The little card reads,

‘The most beautiful woman deserves the most beautiful flowers. The last time I bought someone flowers was twenty years ago, if not longer, so I hope this means a little something. The colors reminded me of you. So sweet and so pretty, always a ray of color and light in my days when I see you and your smile.’

Your smile grows more once you read it, and you can’t help but reread the words. They’re actually…in his handwriting. The numerous times you’ve seen him write something at the PO Boxes here at the complex have made his writing pretty much recognizable to you, so you know he’s being serious if he wrote this himself and not let the printer or some other person do it.

You put the small card down into the little holder before turning your eyes to his face again. “One date. No sex, no dirty flirting, no vulgarity, one date. And if it goes well, we can take it further. But if you butcher it, Mr. Barnes, no more!!” You say with a soft smile on your lips.

Bucky can’t help but chuckle as he nods, “yeah, I completely get it. I won’t ruin this. I’ve dreamt about this for months.” He says before his lips stay permanently into a nice, handsome smile. “How does tomorrow at seven work for you??”

You never thought it would be happening, but as you stand outside of the all too expensive restaurant, your heart races. You’re definitely dressed for the occasion, but you’re nervous. As you’re in your own head, standing, looking into the window of the restaurant, someone lightly grabs your elbow and you jump. “It’s just me, sweetheart.” Bucky says, voice deep. “Oh, shit, sorry.” You apologize and a crack of a smile appears on his red lips. He speaks while his hand moves down to yours, taking your freshly manicured hand into his. “Don't have to apologize, I’m the one who startled you after all. What’s going through that pretty head of yours, hmm?” He asks, his hand that nearly swallows yours, squeezes yours and your heart thumps louder. “Just…there’s a lot of people.” You lie right through your teeth, but you’re more than sure that Bucky buys it because he nods. “Yeah, there is. But the food is absolutely delicious, sweetheart.” He hums before he leads you to the huge doors, and someone opens them for you both before Bucky escorts you in.

Dinner goes well. No flirtatious remarks, but Bucky does everything he can to compliment you. He compliments your hair, your nails, asks if it’s a new perfume you have on because it’s different from the ones he’s smelled on you before. He compliments the dress you’re wearing, and the shoes, even the tattoos that he’s never seen before, and he wonders what else you’re hiding from him.

You don’t expect him to compliment your laugh though. “What!? That happened!?” You ask after Bucky tells you about one of his many night shift stories at the hospital, mentioning the fact that a man fell on his ass while rushing to his car, for whatever reason, and it was icy. So he plummeted. Bucky then said the man proceeded to slide under his own jeep, and couldn't stop until he managed to grab ahold of the foot piece on the other side. “No fucking way!!” You say softly before you giggle. Your hand goes over your mouth as you laugh, imagining that the guy must’ve been so embarrassed because wow, you’re getting second hand embarrassment for him. “Yeah….nearly went down to the ground laughing at him myself.” Bucky chuckles as he listens to you laugh. When you finally manage to settle down, you take in a breath of air before drinking some water. “Your laugh…I’ve never heard you laugh so much before. But my god, it sounds so sweet.” He hums low before he licks his lips.

You feel your cheeks heating up again and you smile, “I- oh wow…No one’s ever said anything like that about my laugh. Bucky, I really- you’re a charmer aren’t you?” You giggle a little more and he laughs, “only for you. You’re the only one I’m seriously committed to for as long as you will have me.”

On the way back to the apartments, Bucky’s words play over again and again in your head. That he’s yours for as long as you’ll have him. Is he this serious about it? About you?? You’re brought back to the car ride when he squeezes your hand that he’s holding in his lap, sort of on his thigh. “Something wrong??” Bucky asks, voice deep and gruff, but something about it is always so soothing. You shake your head, and it’s the truth. Nothing is wrong, everything seems so right. “No, nothings wrong, just taking in everything.” And it’s halfway true, because you’re trying to wrap your head around how he went from fucking so many women, to looking like he’s in love with you.

Maybe one day you’ll have the guts to ask him, but for now it’ll wait.

Indeed, when he dropped you off at your door that night, he kissed your cheek, and you promised him another date. But you also told him you’d be out of town for a week, so he’d have to plan for when you got back. That was no issue for Bucky, because as soon as you were back, he let you get settled, let you get some rest, and then that next morning he knocked on your door. Bucky had you get dressed, “wear something cute but cozy.” He said, and so he dragged you out of the door after you got dressed.

He took you to a park, full of statues and art for the whole world to see. You walked the whole place and thankfully, Bucky steered you right with cute but cozy clothes. The sneakers you wore were perfect for the occasion. Bucky then brought you to a place for brunch. You drank coffee, ate some baked goods, and then made it on your way to the next destination. You remember asking him over and over again where he was taking you, but he wouldn’t say.

So when Bucky pulled up to a botanical garden, your smile came back onto your face. He didn’t even have time to tell you where you were, because you already knew. You loved this place, went there so often that you knew it like the back of your hand, but of course Bucky didn’t know that, so you explained to him, and he felt a little bad. He thought he'd picked out really good spots. But you reassured him that you loved it so much.

Bucky was relieved, he’d worked so hard to plan that date, and he wanted you happy. You two went out for dinner again, and he got you even more flowers, a bigger bouquet too. It had a small box of expensive chocolates with it, and you fell harder for the man.

After a few more dates, Bucky finally got the courage to ask you to be his girl. Of course, over those dates, he realized and learned that you’re not a crowd person. You don’t like large crowds or a lot of attention on you, so he asked you to be his girl while the two of you were cooking in your apartment. It was romantic, and Bucky looked at you as if you were the brightest star in the sky, guiding him in the right direction of his sort of messy life.

You couldn’t say no, and you didn’t want to. He was thrilled. It was the most perfect dinner and snuggles he ever had, and he was happy- still is, the both of you are.

One small issue was that Bucky’s schedule got busier. So less dates is what became of that, but it didn’t deter your care and passion for each other. He’d often come to your place to sleep if he’d missed you way too much that day, and he needed you. He’d knock and knew that you had waited up for him, every night, and you’d help him shower and get dressed- simple loving things. Then you’d crash in your bed, tangled up together all warm because of his body heat, and all cozy.

Thankfully, the busiest time of year passed quite fast, and he was able to start back his regular schedule, which ultimately made you both happy. Bucky planned date after date, along with your help of course, and you never grew tired of each other.

Your first argument was two months ago. You’d asked him, ‘how did you go from fucking so many women, to only wanting to be with me?’ And he had an answer. He just didn’t know if you’d like it or not. So he sat you down, held your hands, and told you.

Bucky told you how he instantly felt pulled to you the moment you two locked eyes, how he knew he had to have you, thought it would be best to try and make you jealous. But he found that stupid the more he thought about it, and he slowly realized that he needed to stop. So when you kept shooting him down, he knew that it was time. So he stopped. Bucky told you the truth, that he never really wanted to fuck all of those women, but he thought that it would get your attention.

That made you upset. He’d never seen you get upset at him or angry, but you were that time. Maybe you were being a little immature-you thought to yourself-, but the thought of him trying to make you jealous, when he had barely talked to you and didn’t even try to get to know you, was a hit in the face. It just felt dirty. So you didn’t talk for a whole week..

Thankfully, a week after that, you two made up. Bucky apologized a million times and bought you many flowers. He had them shipped to your workplace, along with lunch, and dinner dates. He finally won you back- and he thanked whatever god is above-, and you apologized too, for being a little too hard on him. Everything was good again, everything felt right again.

But around a month ago, you felt guilty at the end of one of your dates. The ride home got a little steamy, and you’ve kissed him before- many times. Sleepy kisses, lazy kisses, I missed you kisses, happy kisses, etc etc. But these were different. Bucky needed you, he wanted you so badly. And by this point it’d been around seven months since you started dating officially- nine since the first date. He had to pull over on the side of the road, pull you into his lap, hands were heavy all over your body where he allowed. They didn’t wander much, because he wasn’t sure if you wanted what he did, so he kept them on your hips, waist, thighs, and neck area, until he knew you wanted to go further. But then you didn’t want to go further.

Of course Bucky didn’t show disappointment or anger when you told him you weren’t ready for that yet. He was more than understanding, but his aching cock was a tiny bit of an issue. He’d dreamt so many nights of fucking you into the mattress it had gotten old how many times he had to jerk off just to relieve himself. But he’d never push you to do something you didn’t/don’t want to do- he’d never do it. A boner is only a minor inconvenience, one that’ll eventually go away. So he helped you get back into your seat and then drove you both home.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to not talk to him for a week. You felt guilty. You felt bad. You knew things between you two were going good again and…you felt like, since everyone in the past only really wanted to have sex with you, that’s what you were waiting for to make this relationship spiral into a pit of doom. You were nervous to actually try sex for the first time, and it was not a discussion you wanted to have with anyone- let alone Bucky- but you knew it would have to be done at some point.

So after around a week of unanswered calls and texts, luckily you answered his knocks- after he came by so many times and all you answered with was ‘I’m okay’- on your door and opened up. “Holy shit, you’ve worried the fuck out of me, sweetheart!” Bucky said as soon as you let him inside, and he picked you up, hugged you to him tightly and kissed your cheeks, nose, and lips. “I’ve missed you s’much. Thought I’d lost ya.” He whispered against your lips before he shut the door.

You apologized, profusely. You didn’t let him get a word in, not until you finished. You explained why you felt guilty, why you felt off and odd, and that you were scared. You didn’t want to disappoint him, you didn’t want to be a nuisance either, and Bucky’s heart broke for you. He had no idea that you were a virgin, he figured it was none of his business before now what you’d done with who, but he knew you would’ve told him about it before things got heated between you two, and he was correct.

Bucky didn’t expect for you to give yourself to him, he didn’t expect you to jump the horse and want to have sex with him immediately after that conversation either. So he held you as long as he could that night after the conversation, whispering words of reassurance and validation into your ears. “I don’t care about that. We can do it whenever you want to. You’re not disappointing me sweetheart, I don’t care about that.”

Yesterday, three weeks after the conversation, Bucky got a new mattress delivered to his apartment. He bought new sheets, silk ones, and new pillows. He bought a whole new fucking bed, let’s just say that, and tossed his other one out while you weren’t home. You had no idea. Bucky was proud of himself. He felt like you would like to sleep on something….new. Something that wouldn’t remind you of his past ‘relationships’(aka.. one night stands) so he’d went out and bought new bedding. A new bed frame, mattress, sheets, blankets, pillows, everything. And he wanted to have you over the next day, so he cleaned up the whole place after the delivery guys had left.

Today, he got up and finished some laundry, then sent you a text, telling you to come over in your best cozy clothes at around 3pm. While Bucky finished cleaning, and then ran to the store for food products, you showered and ate a little something, then picked out a pair of cotton shorts and a big shirt of his.

When the clock hits 3, you knock on his door. You have a small baggy in hand for just extra necessities, because even if you do live next door, you kind of don’t want to have to leave his place. Not even a minute later Bucky opens the door and engulfs you into a warm hug, his lips pressing against yours and his hand on your cheek. “Sweet girl…I’ve missed you.” He whispers before he shuts and locks the door. Because before you he never would. He can protect himself, very well, and he’s never had a reason to. But when you told him that it made you feel safe, he started doing it for you.

“Hi handsome, I missed you too! What were you up to yesterday?” You ask, your hand runs through his hair before you kiss his scruffy chin. Bucky chuckles, “I wanted to show you something. It’s what I was up to yesterday.” He says, voice wavering a little but he wiggles his brows just a bit which makes you giggle. Bucky’s a bit nervous, he doesn’t want you to feel guilty that he replaced his bed for you- because he really wanted to do this; for you.

“Okay, let me just put my bag down and I’ll follow!!” You tell him, eyes bright and smile wide before you place the bag down, crocs sliding off and next to the door before Bucky picks you up into his arms. “I told you you’d never have to walk again if you don’t want to, pretty girl. Especially not in my apartment.” You giggle, that laugh he loves so much, and his heart grows warm at the feeling. He can’t help but press a kiss to your soft lips.

“Take me away, Buck!” You say before you wrap your arms around his neck and he leads you to his room. You’ve been in here dozens of times, but this time it’s different. The walls have different pictures on them. There’s many of you two, and some are just art pieces. He even put up some bookshelves and he sees you eyeing them. “Yeah….I know they’re pretty empty but I was hoping you’d bring some books over and leave them here…so I’d have more of you around the place.” Bucky whispers before kissing your neck delicately. “Notice anything else??”

Your eyes scan the room and they land on the bed after a brief moment. Your eyes squint as you focus and you notice it’s not the same banged up, metal bed frame as before. This bed is a sleek black wood, the poles extending up to leave around a foot and a half from the ceiling. There’s intricate white details, lining some parts of the headboard and footboard, and your mouth falls agape as to how nicely it looks. You also notice the sheets that are sticking out from where the comforter is pulled back are different, and the comforter is new. Everything’s new. “Is…is this all new??” You ask, confused as to why Bucky would go and buy all this stuff. But he nods as he holds you to him tightly. “Slept so good last night, even the mattress is new, pretty thing.” He says as he walks over with you on his body, and he sits down. “Why..?” You ask again, confused.

He chuckles at your expression and kisses your lips, “because I thought that maybe….it was time for a change, but I also wanted you to be comfortable. I know you could hear what all was going on here…in the past. Whenever we finally decide to take that next step, I want you to have something secure, new, and comfortable to be pleasured in. I wanted to get you something that’s just for us, only us.” Bucky tells you honestly as he holds you in his lap, his hands rubbing over your arms as he watches your face.

“I just want you to know, this isn’t some shit, or twisted plan to get you to change your mind about everything, I just want you to know how serious we are. How serious I take our relationship. That I am prepared for when you want to finally have sex with me-if ever-, and when you want to open up- no dirty pun intended.” Bucky says with a small chuckle, but he’s honest about it, before he kisses the crown of your head, pulling you closer into his arms.

It takes you a moment to process everything, but you smile, tears brimming your eyes, and his hands trail over your back as he eases your nerves, or at least he thinks you have nerves. “Bucky…you did this for me?” Your voice comes out small, and quiet. “Yeah, I did.” You hug him tighter, your face resting in the crook of his neck as you smile, “I-I Love you Bucky. Thank you, i- i really don’t know what to say.” You tell him gratefully, and all Bucky expects of you is for you to enjoy it. Whether it be sleeping, cuddling, watching a movie, hell just having you sit on the damn thing would make him so happy. “It’s all for you sweetheart, and you’re welcome anytime. I love you even more, pretty girl.” He then pulls out a key from his pocket, and it’s the spare apartment key to his place. You look at it and you smile, “any time? Really??” You ask, not believing that this man is real, but he nods and that brings you to realization that he is. Bucky is very much real.

Your hand takes the key and you kiss Bucky’s lips, “I really do love you.” You whisper against his lips, and he smiles, “and I love you, so much. I’m not good about putting it into words but…I try to show it through other things.” “You do…you’re amazing Bucky, honestly.” You murmur, and then you set the key down onto his nightstand, which is also shockingly new. “I have been thinking about it though…about losing my virginity. God I hate saying that…” you scrunch your face up and Bucky chuckles at how cute you are. “But I have been thinking! And I want to lose it…tonight. With you…on this new bed…and the new sheets- which are silk?!” You ask as you run your fingers on the material. “I really want to. I’ve dreamt about it…longed for it. I’m not…,that scared anymore. I’m more nervous than anything.” You admit, and your hands hold his as you look at him as if he’s your entire world.

“God, sweetheart, the things I’ve dreamt of doing to you. I’ve just imagined them night after night.” He mumbles against your lips before he stands up and places you onto the bed on your back, his calloused hand-and metal one too- running up your shirt just a little bit. “You’re positive? That this is what you are wanting??” Bucky asks, because he needs to make sure. Bucky needs to make sure because he is positive that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He’s dreamt of devouring you, sinking his teeth to leave bite marks all over your skin. Bucky has imagined kissing every inch of your skin, touching every inch of your body, and bringing you to your orgasm, more times than he can count on his fingers- and toes- twice. To say he’s utterly obsessed with you, pretty much any thought of you makes him go crazy, it’s an understatement.

You nod your head as you look up at him, “yes. I’m absolutely positive, Bucky.” Your words come out soft, and you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks. “And….you don’t have to be soft the entire time.” You tell him, your words firm and sure as can be. Bucky swallows and nods, then his lips are on yours as he picks you up and moves you towards the plush pillows, soft but firm and the fabric of the pillow cases are soft too.

The kiss is full of need, on both ends, not just yours. His body is slotted in between your legs as his hands slip up under your shirt, rubbing over the area of your ribs and your hands bury themselves into his messy hair now, thick and untamed. You moan into his mouth, and Bucky can’t help but grind down onto you, and you feel the heaviness of his cock through his sweatpants. “Bucky…” you mumble against his pretty lips, and your eyes stay closed as he starts to trail kisses down your jaw towards your neck. “So…fucking….gorgeous.” He growls out in between every kiss he gives you, and he can’t stop from saying more. “Love you…..so much….want you….need you….been dreaming of you….and thinking about..,,your tight cunt….” He’s breathing a little heavier when he gets to your pulse point, and Bucky starts to nibble on the skin there, causing a moan to slip past your glistening lips.

“Bucky…” you moan, and it sounds like a melody only meant for him to hear. “That’s it, pretty girl….moan for me.” He whispers, and you continue as his hands trail further up, his thumbs brushing past your nipples before he starts to tease them, playing with the hardening buds. You can’t help but let out soft whimpers of bliss as he treats your body like it’s a delicate statue, or like you’re a queen and he’s only meant to serve you, please you.

The further his kisses go, the wetter you get just from his kisses. They’re sloppy and wet, and Bucky’s cherishing every bit of your skin, memorizing it with his hands, lips, and nose as he takes in the scent of your warm skin. You smell absolutely captivating to him, and he can’t imagine not ever being able to have you.

His hands move down from your nipples and breasts to your ribs again, down to your waist and then hips. He kisses down your tummy and over your belly button before his hands slip to the waistband of your shorts. He can feel that you’re not wearing panties.

“Were you…planning on this?” He asks with a small smirk. Your cheeks grow hot and he notices how bashful you get, so he chuckles at your little expression. “Aw, pretty girl…so good for me.” Bucky kisses right above the band of your shorts before he tugs them down, slowly. You watch him as your hands stay buried in his hair, and the further down he goes, the more your hands slip away, and eventually when your shorts are pulled down, your hands are not in his hair anymore. That’s when you notice your shorts are gone, and on the floor somewhere, and you get a little more shy. But he doesn’t allow your legs to close.

Bucky’s hands gently grab you by the thighs and pull you closer to him, so that you’re now at the end of the bed and he’s on his knees, ready to worship you. “Mm…” he growls out low as he looks at your pussy, dripping and wet for him. He can just see the clit peeking out, and his cock throbs harder. He doesn’t say anything else, all he does is lean forward, hands still on your thighs, and places his face right onto your cunt. He takes a deep breath in and a throaty groan escapes him, and you can’t help but to get hotter than you already are. Bucky then takes another breath in, this time some sort of growl comes from his throat and more arousal gushes from you.

“Holy fuck Bucky….please.” You whimper as you clutch the comforter under into your hands, fingernails digging into the fabric slightly. He chuckles against your pussy before he moves his face back a little and then licks up your slit, and just teases you by missing your clit. You let out the most needy little whine and he didn’t think his cock could throb any harder. “Fuck, pretty girl….smell so sweet…sound so sweet, taste even sweeter than I imagined, too.” Bucky grunts out before he spreads your legs wider, and he can’t take it anymore.

Those sweet eyes you’re giving him, and the way you smell, look, and how you crave him just as much as he craves you, makes his head spin. Bucky leans back down and this time when he licks up your slit, he doesn’t miss that pretty clit he’s been wanting to wrap his lips around and suck on. You let out such a filthy moan, he has to grip your thighs harder to contain himself. “Please….mmph…feels too good!” You let out, your eyes closed. You’re so sensitive, never being touched makes you that way, and the fact that you haven’t touched yourself in a week, because you wanted to be absolutely needy when you told Bucky you were ready. And fuck if it isn’t so good already.

Bucky then sucks onto your clit, one of his strong hands leaving your thigh and spreading your lips apart so he can focus more onto your pretty pearl, giving it as much attention as he can. His eyes don’t close, instead they strain to focus on you, how your chest heaves, how your fingers clutch the sheets and comforter, and how your face is so blissed out. You’re so needy, and he’s going to give everything he can to you tonight, and as much as you’ll take.

Bucky pulls away from your clit and then his fingers spread you open even more, so that his tongue can delve into your hole. Your breathing gets heavier, and your pussy flutters at his warm, wet tongue when it slips in. His tongue is long, and when he manages to slip in a finger along with it, you’re moaning more. His nose bumps your clit over and over again, rubbing it just right in ways you didn’t know would feel so good. Guess your friends were right when they said guys with big noses make good use of them.

“So good…” Bucky groans in between lewd noises, complimenting your taste. His finger moves and curls into your cunt, reaching as far into your pussy as he can, then his tongue finally moves back up to your clit, and he flicks his tongue, knowing just how to make you feel good. “Bucky…another…” you moan, back arching as you tell him to slip another finger in. Bucky doesn’t have to be told twice by you. So he pulls back from your clit, gathers spit and then spits it messily and filthily onto your cunt, watching as it drips onto the one finger that’s curling against your g-spot, before he slips the second one into you. “Fuck!” You moan, fists getting a tighter hold on the sheets before he’s moving back to working on your clit, hungrily. Bucky nibbles on it, sucks on it, and flicks it with his tongue. The noises grow louder, wetter, more obscene. He’s never eaten any other woman out like this, he’s not even thought about it. All he’s thought and is thinking about, and forever will, is you. Your pussy, your clit, your lips, body, sounds. Everything about you.

“G-getting….close.” You whimper as you start to squirm a little, body growing hot as you whimper and moan, the sounds are heavenly to Bucky’s enhanced hearing. He groans from the pit of his throat, lapping at you hungrily as he finger fucks you harder, faster, messier. He’s never eaten pussy like this in his life, not this lewdly or needily. No.

He wants you to cum on his face, his mouth, his tongue. He wants every bit you’ll give him, and he’s so fucking glad that when he suckles onto your clit harshly, growling out which sends vibrations through your core, that you cum. Your back arches off the bed, and you try to squirm away but of course Bucky doesn’t let you. He has that one hand gripped onto your thigh and holding you in place as he fingers you and suckles your clit.

Bucky does, however, move his mouth after a few moments, and let’s his nose do the work while he laps at your juices that have leaked from your weeping pussy, and god you taste so good. He groans, cock leaking precum in his sweats as he licks up everything and all that he can of your cum.

When he’s finally done, you’re panting, chest heaving, skin hot and slightly sticky, and your shirt is ridden up so he can see your boobs. Throughout that, he thinks, you must’ve risen it up and started playing with your nipples. “God Bucky….fuck me, need it so bad!” Your raspy, whiny voice breaks him from his trance as he stares at your body. He can’t believe he got this fucking lucky. You’re so debouched, hair a mess, eyes hazy, lips parted, and nipples hard. Your pussy is a mess of slick and spit, and your clit is swollen and sensitive.

“Fuck, pretty girl. Such a pretty pussy, tastes so damn good, look so fucking pretty for me.” Bucky mumbles as he crawls on top of you, helping you take the shirt off while whispering, “let’s take this off…” He then kisses your lips again and being able to taste yourself on his lips, has your pussy walls fluttering around nothing, greedily. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he kisses you, lids closed, Bucky’s tongue in your mouth, roaming to taste every inch of yours.

His hands grab your thighs and lift your legs up, and he grinds down onto your cunt, his clothed cock hot and heavy. You let out a breathy moan, and you lick your lips. “Taste good, don’t you?” Bucky asks and you nod, “yes…tastes so good.” You’re so blissed, pussy so needy, that you rub up and buck up towards Bucky’s cock. That makes him chuckle before he runs a hand up your body and over your neck. Your breath hitches as his hand closes around your throat, and his face comes close to yours. His breath is felt on your lips, nose bumping yours, “love ya, pretty girl. Think you’re ready for me?”

You nod quickly letting out an, ‘mhm’ and Bucky chuckles again. “So needy….” He grunts out before his other hand goes to your pussy again, feeling the wetness that’s fresh, and it’s not even his spit this time. It’s your arousal. “So fucking wet again. I can tell you’re gonna be my little cockslut.” He smirks before he presses his lips to yours in a searing, hot kiss, then he squeezes your throat a little harder before he stands up, and takes off his sweats. He didn’t have a shirt on, so that’s not an issue, and now you can see he didn’t have underwear on either.

“Fucking….my god.” You breathlessly say when you see his cock. It’s huge. The only thing you’ve ever used is a vibrator, and oftentimes your fingers. You’ve never had anything that big inside of you. You swallow, legs still spread open as you look at Bucky’s cock. “It’s okay…” He whispers as he comes over, crawling back on top of you. “It’ll be okay….I’ve gotcha, pretty girl.” He murmurs before kissing your jaw, then down to your neck where marks have already risen due to his assault on your neck earlier.

You feel the tip of his cock nudge your pussy and you gasp. It feels even bigger without seeing it. Your hands go to his biceps, and you hold onto them, nails digging into his skin. Bucky grunts out in pleasure before he starts to make a steady motion of slipping his cock in between your folds, the leaking tip rubbing your clit every time. “Is this my pussy, pretty girl?” Bucky grits out, his cock throbbing hot against your cunt. “Yes, yes it’s your pussy. All yours, Buck…” you say fast, and needy. Bucky chuckles deeply, cock catching on your hole now as he slips back and forth, dying to be inside of you. “Tell me if you want to stop or if you need a minute.” He says, and before you can reply, he’s nudging his cock into your pussy. “Oh shit…” you gasp out, nails digging further into his skin. Your eyes scrunch closed at the intrusion, and Bucky softly kisses your cheek and face, your lips and jaw. “It’s okay…it’s okay. Doing good, such a good fucking girl. So tight for me too. Ease up a little though, pretty girl. Gotta ease up.” Bucky murmurs, and you try to relax as much as you can, because holy fuck this is a lot.

You swallow as he eases the head in, and you try to relax more. “Keep going.” You tell him, and he obliges. He pushes in some more, and when he hears you take a breath in he stops. He waits the few seconds for you to relax again, and this is repeated until he’s fully inside of you. Your pussy squeezes him so tightly, he’s not sure if he can go more than two minutes without cumming, but he knows with his stamina he can cum many more times than just once or twice. “You’re….fuck.” You say with a small chuckle as your hands soothe over the small cuts on his arm from your nails but they’re pretty much gone now. “You did good. Taking my cock like a good girl. My very good and pretty girl.” Bucky moves a little bit and it has you whimpering. He places his hand onto your lower tummy and you let out a moan, feeling him so deep inside of you. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good…gonna have you stuffed.” He grunts before he eases out and pushes back in.

The first few thrusts are like that, sort of slow, but he pushes back in progressively harder. The more of a reaction he gets from you, the faster that Bucky goes. Eventually he has your legs pushed back, and his cock is ramming into you while the hair at the base of his cock is brushing up against your puffy clit, your moans bouncing off to the walls and for a few seconds you feel bad for your neighbors but…then you remember that you are his neighbor, and Bucky lives at the end of this hall. So it’s likely people can’t hear you as much as you were thinking. But those thoughts are all swept from your mind the second Bucky says something absolutely filthy. His hand wraps around your neck, one arm holding both legs near your head as he fucks you. “Focus on me. Focus on my cock, my voice, the pleasure I’m giving you, or I’ll make you cum. I’ll make you fucking focus.” He growls out as he gets faster, harder, and you moan, nearly screaming.

Everything’s washed from your mind except for him. The way Bucky’s cock drives into your pussy, the lewd sounds of his dick pushing in, pulling out. The feeling of how thick he is, how his heavy balls slap your skin. “Want you to cum in me!” You moan, breathless, but it’s a moan full of pleasure nonetheless.

Bucky nearly cums right then, his balls twitching, cock does too, as his chest heaves. He licks his lips before he gets a dirty smirk on his face, “you…..you want me….to cum in your cunt??” Bucky’s voice is even deeper, and it hits the pit of your stomach, making your pussy clench around his cock, and he groans- guttural and devine to your ears. “Yes! Yesyesyesyes!!!” You chant, voice music to his ears as he fucks you harder. You don’t think you’ll ever walk again from how hard he’s fucking your pussy.

“Oh I’ll cum inside of your cunt, pretty girl. I’ll fill ‘er up so good….that she’s leaking my fucking cum for a week. You won’t be walking, you won’t be off of my cock for longer than five minutes at a time.” He growls, hand tightening around your throat, and Bucky has you seeing stars.

You unexpectedly cum, trembling under his glistening body as you do, and you pant, nipples hard and exposed. He then pushes your legs down further, hand leaving your neck as he takes a nipple into your mouth and sucks on it, nibbling some afterwards. You cry out at the pleasure, and this isn’t exactly how you imagined the first time for you going, but you’re definitely not going to complain either.

The second you feel that Bucky is about to cum, he doesn’t. He pulls his cock out, maneuvers you so that you’re faced down. He grabs a pillow, one that he bought for you both to use, places it under your hip area, and then spreads your legs just wide enough for him to push back in. The stretch is more now, and he feels that you’re even tighter since you’re not so splayed out for him. “Fuck! Good girl….good girl. Taking my cock like it was fucking made for you. Huh? It was made for you, wasn't it baby??” You sob out from under him, his hands holding you down as he fucks you, skin slapping skin loudly. “Yes!!” You moan out, but it’s a little muffled. “Mmyeah…she’s so greedy, won’t ever let her go a day without my cock again.” He then pulls out and teases you, slipping just the head back in. You beg, “nononononono!!!! Put it back in, put it back in!! Please pleasepleaseplease, Bucky! Please!!” You cry out, and he’s shocked at how much of a cockslut you already are, but that doesn’t stop him from ramming into your cunt again. He fucks you like he has no restraint. He has been dreaming of this for a long while now, so really no one can stop him- only you if you need to.

“Cock. Hungry. Slut.” Bucky growls in between thrusts, his cock throbbing as he gets close to another orgasm but he wants you to cum again. He needs to feel how tight you can get in this position, how pretty your sounds are again and again, and how breathless he makes you.

All you can whine out are noises. You can’t make a coherent sentence or thought. All you know is, cock, cum, orgasms, Bucky. That’s all you fucking know. “Yeahhh, gonna fill you right to the brim. Over. And. Over. And. Over. A-fucking-gain. Gonna fucking breed this little pussy.” He growls out and when his hand meets your asscheek, it has you cumming. Legs shaking, pussy spasming around Bucky’s thick cock. His balls are full, and within the next minute, he cums inside of you. Bucky lets out grunt after growl after groan as he cums. It’s so much cum that you’re stuffed just from this one load, and you’re wondering just how much more of it you can take, but you know you’ll take however much he can give you. “Mm…Bucky.” You moan as he continues to fucking it into you cunt, needing to get it as far and as deep as he can, which makes your pussy squeeze tightly and it squelches from the cum inside of it. “Good. Girl.” He says in between breaths before he leans down and kisses the sweaty skin on your neck. He moves your hair out of the way, and then kisses more skin, and his hips move in the process. “Buckkkyy!” You giggle softly, hazily. “Again…” you murmur and he chuckles. “So fucking cock hungry, huh?? Already needy, already wanting to suck me fucking dry. But that’s okay…because I’ll give you all you want. All ya gotta do is ask, pretty girl. And I’ll fill this pretty, swollen cunt up, as much as you want.” Bucky murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses down your back as far as he can, then he’s spreading your ass cheeks and pulling out, before pushing back into your hole, watching as the sticky cum stretches from your hole to his cock, and when he sees his cum covered cock, and feels your pussy flutter around his dick, he can’t help but cum again. It’s not as much as last time, but he still gives it to you.

And he gives you plenty more after that.