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hi pauline!!! i js read nutshell and the dynamic between reader and bucky was sooo interesting (as well as the entire oneshot i think that scene of bucky screaming and crying while being taken away altered smth in my brain chemistry and OMG the parallel between the beginning and the end was so goodđââïžđââïž i also rlly liked the dynamic between reader and steve and the concept of her being oblivious and not rlly knowing what bucky is doing is bad is very interesting to me) its inspiring me in some of my own writing heheh i think ur very very cool and awesome ok bye âșïžâșïžâșïžđđđđđđđ„łđ„łđ„łđŠđŠđŠđŠđđ
MADDIEEE ahhh thank you! i always look forward to your comments and reblogs. you're so kind, and if i truly am inspiring you with your writing, that is such a huge honor for me.
i'm glad you not only liked it but you also matched my freak hehe. i hope you have a wonderful day sweetheart
hi i have an idea for a smut story for Bucky, so basically it starts in a club and the reader is a midnight ballerina and Sam and his friends wanted to have fun so they went to a club and after that point itâs all u! (Sorry for this random ass request i just saw a tiktok! And i loved the idea and your smut stories are the best)
LOL believe it or not i actually had this idea sometime ago, but i recently passed this idea onto a friend. if it ends up being written, i'll be sure to reblog with the link <3
warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, fluff, light angst, enemies to lovers, bantering, lowk grumpy and man-hater reader, sam playing matchmaker, arguments, bucky has nightmares, semi-public sex, spanking, brat-taming, degradation and praise.
wordcount: 14.9k
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a/n: i've never been to louisiana, so i tried my best to do research to keep it as accurate as possible. i apologize for any mistakes.
synopsis:
Sam has been trying to get you and Bucky to get alongâor at least tolerate each otherâfor the longest time. And what better way to do that than by inviting you both back home for a weekend in Louisiana?
It was always hard to decline the Wilsons every time they invited you over to visit them in Delacroix.
They always made sure to show you a fun time, whether it was something as simple as a boat ride on Paul & Darleneâs â God bless them â shooting water guns with the kids, going fishing, or just grabbing some folding chairs to watch the sun set past the lake line with cold Heinekens in hand.
It was AJâsâSarahâs sonâbirthday this weekend, and Sam had invited you to stay over for a full weekend of nonstop partying and celebration.
How could you possibly resist when you have your very best friends waiting for you across the states with good music and food ready at their doorstep?
You showed up at the top of the steps with a heavy weekender bag slung over your shoulder. When you pushed through the front door, which had been left unlocked, the last person you expected to see was standing right in the middle of the room.
Bucky.
He looked like he had just arrived, too. A simple dark backpack sat squared and centered on the couchâas if he were already claiming his spot.
Bucky slowly turned toward you, his eyes widening as if he hadnât expected you to arrive either.
âWhat are you doingââ
âWhat are you doingââ
You both spoke and stopped at the same time, eyes glaring at one another. Buckyâs shoulders were tense, his discomfort obvious, while your own brows were furrowed and lips scrunched in disdain.
Your first impression of Bucky hadnât been greatâand it still wasnât.
When you first met him, you walked in on him talking to Sam about his flirting with Sarah. Sam had warned Bucky to back offâthat typical overprotective brother routineâbut Bucky insisted he was âmerely joking aroundâ and âwasnât looking for anything serious.â
The two of them might have found it funny, but Sarah was your best friend, and you were extremely protective over the people you cared about.
While Sam was busy in New York, you had stuck by her side like glue. You were there for her through the divorce, you were there to watch the kids when Sam wasnât around, and you were there for every single one of her and the boysâ milestones.
Sarah was a woman who deserved to be taken care of, just as she took care of everyone else.
To Bucky, pursuing her and tossing out flirtatious comments was just a joke.
You knew Sarah was strong, and that maybe she wouldnât let things get too far with Bucky, but the way sheâd chuckle and giggle at his words filled you with doubt.
Bucky wasnât a man who would take care of her or her kids. He was just like Samâheâd always be away, too occupied with other things across the country to actually show up for her and her needs. You didnât want her to get hurt and left in the dust again.
Bucky let out a patient exhale, running a hand through his hair. âSam invited me to stay the weekend for AJâs birthday.â
You crossed your arms. âThatâs funny. Sam invited me over to stay, too.â You glanced at the couch. âThey donât have a spare bedroomâso that couch is going to have to be mine.â
He huffed an incredulous laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching into a disbelieving smile.
The gentleman in him told him to give up the couch and let you have it, even if he had arrived first. But the petty part of him didnât want to give in that easilyânot with how cold you have been towards him.
âWhat?â Bucky motioned to the sofa. âYou donât think the couch is big enough for the both of us?â
You didnât laugh, and he let out a frustrated sigh.
âLook, Iââ
âMom! Uncle Bucky and Auntie are here!â Cassâs voice rang from around the corner. His happy brown eyes, so much like Sarahâs, peered between the two of you. âAJ, come here!â
Buckyâs shoulders eased slightly, his expression softening at the sight of Samâs nephew.
Cass ran to Bucky first since he was closer, throwing his arms around his waist as he knelt to meet the kid halfway.
âGood to see you again, kid,â Bucky murmured.
Then Cass lunged at you for a hug next, nearly sending you stumbling backward from the impact. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing tight. âHey there, Cass!â
AJ rounded the corner next, his footsteps thudding against the floorboards before he collided head first into Bucky, catching him in a bear hug.
Jealousy started to boil in your blood. It was infuriating how much Bucky had these two kids wrapped around his stupid vibranium finger after knowing them for such a short time. Meanwhile, you have been around forever. You might as well have been their biological aunt, for fuckâs sake.
âUncle Bucky!â AJ beamed.
Bucky laughed, giving his head a playful ruffle. âWell, if it isnât the birthday boy. Hey, I got you somethingââ
âArenât you going to say hi to your aunt, AJ?â you cut in, catching the boyâs attention.
AJâs excitement for whatever gift Bucky had for him faded slightly as he turned his attention to you. He smiled, walkingânot runningâto greet you with a hug. The polite gesture did nothing to soothe your jealousy or your emotional attachment to these kids.
âItâs nice to see you, Auntie,â AJ said politely.
You forced a smile anyway. âHappy early birthday, AJ. Are you excited for the weekend?â
AJ grinned and nodded, but before he could answer, the sound of Samâs footsteps approached from down the hall.
âWell, well, well,â Sam said, a hand on his hip and a smirk on his face. âIf it isnât my two favorite people in the worldâstanding in the same room.â
The little boys glanced at each other, already starting their own silent game of tag before they pushed through the front door and disappeared into the yard.
âSam,â you greeted, finally dropping your heavy duffel bag on the floor. âThere isnât enough space for Bucky and me to stay.â
Bucky was already reaching for his backpack. âIâll just let her take the couch. Iâll sleep on the floor.â
âWhat?â Sam huffed, shaking his head. âNo, no, no. None of that. I bought an air mattress that we can set up right here.â He motioned to the floor in front of the sofa. âWeâll just move the coffee table. Itâs big enough to fit the both of you. No one is sleeping on the floor.â
Big enough to fit the both of you?
âWe are not sharing a bed,â you interjected sternly, trying to hide the embarassment on your face.
Bucky glanced at Sam casually. âIâll just take the couch, then. Sheâll take the bed.â
The tension in the room was thicker than the Louisiana humidity. Sam and Bucky traded a knowing lookâone that typically meant they were thinking the same thing but didnât want to say it out loud.
âWhereâs Sarah?â you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. There was too much testosterone in this room.
Sam pointed a thumb over his shoulder. âSheâs out back.â
You nodded and walked past the two men, heading for the backyard. Sam and Bucky watched you retreat, waiting until the sound of the screen door clicked shut before Bucky finally let out the breath he had been holding.
âShe doesnât like me much, Sam,â Bucky muttered.
âYou think?â Sam mused sarcastically, folding his arms over his chest. âLook, man, itâs my nephewâs birthday. Sarah and I want both of you here this weekend, and Iâm going to make sure it stays a good weekend.â
Bucky pressed his lips together, his right hand coming up to tug at the stubble on his chin as if he were trying to calculate a solution.
âAlright, well...â He shrugged. âGuess Iâll just make sure to stay on the opposite side of the roomââ
âNo,â Sam interrupted, stepping closer. âThatâs not how weâre doing things. Itâs a celebration, man. Iâm not having you two avoid each other like the plague the entire time. My nephews and everyone else around us will catch on.â
Bucky made a face. He knew Sam well enough to know he was already plotting something. âWhat do you propose we do, then?â
âThere are plenty of things to do down at the bayou,â Sam explained. âNot even just the bayouâall over the damn state. Activities you two can do together.â
Bucky was terrible at hiding his expressions. He grimaced immediately at the thoughtâenduring constant nagging, side-eyes, and petty one liners from you while he just had to sit there and take it for Samâs sake.
This wasnât a fun vacation at all.
âI donât know about this, Samââ
âWeâre supposed to be a family, Buck,â Sam cut him off, raising a hand to silence the protest. âYouâre going to spend time with her, and youâre going to enjoy every second of it.â
You were down at the docks, the sun beaming down as sweat began to trickle from your temples. The humidity in Louisiana was suffocating, but the occasional lake breeze, the cold beers, and the company were enough to keep the heat at bay.
Paul & Darleneâs was swaying gently against the waves, looking as rusty as ever.
âIs she ready for a ride?â you asked Sarah, who was currently engrossed in a clipboard. âAre you seriously still working on your sonâs birthday weekend?â
Sarah didnât reply, mumbling to herself as her eyes traced the words on the paper. You sighed, your fingers gently nudging the clipboard down.
âSarah, enough,â you said gently. You glanced over at AJ and Cass, who were sitting on the benches playing with action figures. âTake the weekend off like the rest of us and spend time with the kids. Take them out on the boat.â
Sarah looked at the boys, her brown eyes filling with guilt. âYou know I would, but the boatâs still brokenââ
âStop with the sulking,â Samâs voice shouted from the end of the dock.
He squinted against the sun as he approached, carrying two boat paddles, while Bucky trailed behind him with a third.
âWe still have three perfectly good rowboats we can take the kids on,â Sam grinned, handing you one of the paddles. âEver rowed a boat before?â
âOf course I have,â you said, taking it. âThat sounds like fun.â You smiled, turning toward the boys. âWhich one of you lucky boys wants to ride with your super cool aunt?â
Bucky lifted his paddle up to Sarah with a small, stupidly charming smile. âWant to ride with me, Sarah?â
You felt your eyebrow twitch.
âAJ, youâre with me,â Sam called out, cutting Bucky off. âCass, youâre with your mom.â
âWhat? No fair!â Cass made a face, throwing his hands up. âI want to ride with someone cool!â
âYou better watch your mouth, boy,â Sarah warned, completely ignoring Bucky as she snatched a paddle from Samâs hand, already heading toward the end of the dock where the boats were tied.
Sam didnât bother hiding his grin. It was wide, unabashed, and entirely too fucking satisfied as he ushered the boys toward the edge of the dock.
âAlright, move it or lose it! First one to the sandbar gets the first slice of cake on Saturday!â Sam shouted. AJ and Cass scrambled past you, their sneakers slapping loudly against the wooden planks as they raced toward the smaller rowboats, leaving giggles in their wake.
You and Bucky stood frozen, paddles in hand like two statues, blinking as the Wilsons walked off without you.
âWait, what?â you finally managed to choke out, your head whipping between Samâs retreating back and the boats. âSam, hold on. There are only three boats.â You stumbled after them, desperately trying to create space between you and Bucky.
âYep!â Sam called over his shoulder, not slowing down at all. âOne for Sarah and Cass, one for me and the birthday boyâŠâ
He paused to hop into a boat, the wood creaking under him. He looked back at you and Bucky, his eyes sparkling mischievously.
âAnd one for the two of you. Try not to tip it.â
You turned slowly to look at Bucky. He looked just as dumbfounded as you felt, his vibranium hand gripped tight around the handle of his paddle.
âHeâs kidding,â you muttered. âHeâs definitely kidding.â
Bucky didnât say anything, mostly because he knew Sam wasnât kidding at all. He looked at the third rowboatâa small, weathered piece of wood that bobbed innocently at the end of the line.
It looked incredibly small.
It looked too intimate.
It looked like a disaster waiting to happen.
âSam!â you yelled, taking a step forward. âThis is ridiculous! I can just stay back and help Sarah with theâthe decorations! Or the food!â
âDecorations are done! Food isnât being prepped âtil tomorrow!â Sarah shouted from her own boat, already pushing off from the dock with Cass sitting across from her.
You couldnât believe it. You were stranded.
You were stranded with Bucky fucking Barnes.
Bucky let out a long, slow breath through his nose. He glanced at you, taking the way your jaw had hung open as you watched Sam and Sarah float away. A fly couldâve flown in at any moment.
Without a word, Bucky started walking toward the last boat, his heavy boots thumping against the dock. He stepped one foot into the boat to steady it and extended a hand toward you.
âCome on,â he muttered. âIâll help you down.â
You blinked, snapped out of your disbelief as you looked down at Buckyâpropped up like a knight in shining armor helping a fair maiden onto his trusty steed.
âI can help myself just fine, thanks,â you scoffed.
You stepped down into the boat, and it tipped slightly under your weight. The both of you quickly got settled, undid the rope, and assembled the paddles at the sides. Without a single word being exchanged, you both reached for the handles at the same time.
Except Buckyâs hands landed firstâand your hands landed right on top of his. You both stared at each other, gazes hard and unwavering.
âLet go,â you said.
Bucky didnât budge at all. âI grabbed them first.â
âYeah, but you donât know how to row a boat, do you?â you immediately countered.
He paused. The only sounds were the cicadas buzzing in your ears and the gentle thrashing of water as the rowboat swayed.
âI do know how to row a boat,â Bucky argued back pridefully.
He didnât.
He probably had during his Winter Soldier daysâand maybe the muscle memory would have come backâbut definitely not for a teeny, tiny little rowboat like this.
You grinned, a little taunting chuckle escaping your lips as you silently called his bluff. âOh, yeah?â
You knew that stung his pride. He mumbled incoherent, grumpy words under his breath as he started to paddle away from the docks and toward the center of the lake, trying to follow Sam and Sarahâs lead.
The two of you sat in an awkward, tense silence as he worked the paddles. The sun was beaming in your face, and you lifted your hand to provide shadeâbut it was also a discreet method to help shield the way you were staring intently at Buckyâs muscles as he pushed the paddles.
Bucky would grunt occasionally as the blades lapped through the water, and you couldnât help but stare at the way his muscles bulged and flexed through a shirt that looked ridiculously tight on a big guy like him.
His henley was pulled up to his forearms, the vibranium shimmering against the reflections of the lake and the veins in his right arm catching your eyes with every pushing motion of the paddle.
âYou, uh⊠you come to Louisiana often?â Bucky tried for a conversation.
You huffed a laugh that didnât sound humorous at all. âWay more than you have, thatâs for sure.â
Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something smart. He had to suck it up for Samâs sake.
âThe weatherâs nice, isnât it?â
You couldnât believe Bucky was trying to talk to you about the weather.
âItâs always hot and swampy in Delacroix,â you said flatly.
You looked around, noticing how the boat was drifting further away from Sam and Sarah. You watched as Cass and AJ shouted to each other from across their boatsâhow Sarah and Sam were tossing their heads back in laughter.
A frown settled on your lips as you began to feel left out.
âWeâre drifting, Bucky,â you said, pointing toward them. âSteer in that direction.â
Bucky adjusted his grip on the paddles and huffed. âFine.â
He started to dig the right paddle deep into the water while the left one barely grazed the surface. But instead of cutting toward Sam and Sarah, the boatâs nose jerked sharply to the right.
âWhat are you doing?â you snapped, your patience thinning as the distance between you and the Wilsons grew wider. âWeâre not going toward them, Bucky. Weâre goingâŠâ You frowned. ââŠnowhere.â
âIâm adjusting,â Bucky said shortly, his vibranium fingers tightening on the paddle. He tried to over-correct, pulling back hard with his left arm, but the only result was the boat beginning to pivot on its axis.
You werenât moving anywhere. You were spinning.
The same cluster of cypress trees passed by for the third time. Sam and Sarah were becoming distant specks on the horizon, their laughter echoing faintly across the water.
An impatient sigh escaped you as you leaned forward, motioning to the paddles. âHere, move over. Let me take overââ
âI got it,â Bucky insisted, his jaw clenched and shoulders tense in that way that made him look particularly stubborn. âJust give me a second, alright?â
âBucky, weâve barely moved from the dock and now youâve got usââ you motioned to the boat, ââspinning in circles. Iâm getting dizzy. Just hand me the damn paddles.â
Your hands found an open space on the handles and you jerked them toward your side of the boat, causing the wood to thrash against the water. Buckyâtaken aback by your unexpected strengthâwas pulled forward. He let out a hiss, immediately yanking the oars back toward him and making you jerk forward instead.
You both glared at each other stubbornly, muttering curses as you continued this back and forth struggle for the paddles.
But unfortunately for you, Bucky was significantly stronger, and every jerk he made sent you nearly flying out of your seat and in his direction.
âGoddammit, Bucky! Just let go!â you hissed, trying to find your balance as the boat thrashed around, water splashing everywhere.
Bucky had told himself he would try to suck up your attitude for Samâbut fuck, you were treading on his nerves every second.
âChrist, woman!â Bucky barked, his fingers tightening on the handles. âJust let me take care of itâalright? I know what Iâm doing!â
âWell, clearly you donât! Because weâre still just spinning in circles!â
The boat rocked violently, tipping precariously every time the two of you fought for the oars. The wood creaked and groaned under the movement, and water began slopping over the gunwales, soaking your sandals.
âWill you stop being such a prideful man and let a woman take over the damn oars already?â you shouted over the splashing water, throwing your entire weight into a massive yank.
The paddles lurched toward you.
âI canât believe you offered to take Sarah for a ride when you canât even steer the damn thing!â
Buckyâs brow twitched. He hated feeling incompetent, and every word you hurled was a direct jab to his pride. He had tried so hard to be on his best behavior for you, but his patience had finally worn thin.
âI wouldâve done just fine if you hadnât gotten in the way,â Bucky snapped back in a low growl.
His fingers clamped down so hard on the wood it was a wonder it didnât snap. Out of sheer, petty spite, he jerked the oars back toward himself.
âNow give me these damn paddlesââ
But the force of his movement caught you completely off guard. You let out a sharp yelp as you were catapulted forward, your hands losing their grip on the wood. You had zero time to brace yourself before you collided hard with his chestâit felt like hitting a brick wall wrapped in damp cotton.
With all the weight suddenly slammed onto one side, the boat lurched backward, the stern dipping dangerously low.
Pressed against his chest, you scrambled to get up in a panic. âJesus, Bucky! Look at what youââ
âStop squirming! Just⊠just stay still!â
Buckyâs grip on the oars was long forgotten as his hands found your waist in a desperate attempt to steady you, but it was too late.
With a loud, undignified splash that caught the attention of everyone on the docks, the rowboat flipped.
One moment, the sun was burning your skin, and the next, you were greeted by cold water enveloping you. Everything from above was muffled as you were completely submerged. Keeping your eyes squeezed shut against the murky water, you tried to swim upward, but panic started to flare as your head kept bumping into the underside of the wooden boat.
Suddenly, a strong, vibranium arm wrapped roughly around your waist. He pulled your body tight against his, dragging you toward the surface and back to the shore.
You gasped for air the moment you broke the surface, your skin warming as the sunlight hit your soaked face. People on the docks were smiling and laughing at your predicament, but Bucky paid them no mind. He dragged a hand down his face, wiping away the water.
âAre you okay?â he asked, his voice low.
Samâs laughter, joined by the kidsâ giggles, filled your ears as their boats drew closer.
âOh no, what happened to you two?â Sam grinned, spinning his boat around to get a better look at you. âLet me guessâwas it the wind?â He motioned to the upside down boat.
Rolling your eyes, you pushed through the water until you reached the edge of the docks, with Bucky swimming close behind. You tried to paddle faster to create some distance, but there was no pointâhe caught up to you in no time.
When you reached the dock, you tried to hoist yourself up, but Buckyâs hands found your waist again, easily hauling you up and over the wooden floorboards.
You sneered at him the second your feet were steady. âI didnât need your help.â
Bucky ignored you as he hauled himself up onto the dock, his muscles rippling beneath the soaked fabric of his shirt. Water clung to his skin, dripping from the tips of his short, shaggy hair and trailing down the tanned column of his throat.
You were furiousâabsolutely lividâbut as you watched the way his broad shoulders tensed just underneath the thin fabric, you found yourself swallowing hard.
You hated that, even in the middle of a fucking swamp, he still managed to look like that.
Bucky didnât notice you staring at him. He stood up, shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his ears.
âI was doing a fine job,â he bit out roughly, âuntil you had to butt your head in and try to take over. If you had just sat still, we wouldnât be soaked right nowââ
As Bucky finally lifted his head to glare at you, the breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, his gaze dropping from your drenched head to your chestâand then freezing there.
You were wearing a sheer white blouseâlight and airy for the Louisiana heat, of courseâbut now that it was drenched through, it had turned completely translucent. It clung tight to your skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination and revealing the lace of your bra underneath.
Buckyâs jaw went tight, his adamâs apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He knew he should look away, but he couldnâtânot even as you continued to yell and point a finger at him.
âWhat? Are you insinuating that itâs my fault?â you scoffed in disbelief.
Bucky couldnât concentrate. It felt like his brain had short circuited as he stared shamelessly at the damp lace and the soft curve of your skin.
âAnd another thing!â you shouted, stepping closer and poking a finger square into the center of his chest. âIf you hadnât been so stubborn about the oars, we wouldâve caught up to Sam and Sarah and been having a good time with them!â
Bucky winced, not because of the poke, but because you moving closer only made the view more prominent. He glanced toward the docks, noticing a few of the guys from the neighborhood whistling and laughing at the both of you.
Without thinking, Bucky stepped closer, his large frame shielding you from the view of the men. He reached out, his hands hovering awkwardly near your shoulders as he tried to pull you against him to hide your vulnerable state.
âHeyâ? What the hell are you doing?â you snapped, trying to shove him back. âWhy are you hugging me? Get off!â
âIâm not hugging you,â Bucky mumbled grumpily as he forced you to stay put, caging you between his big arms.
âIt feels a lot like hugging, Barnes! Let go!â You squirmed, but his grip on you was tight. His face flushed as he felt your chest rub up against his.
âStop moving,â he hissed, his face turning a deep, frustrated red as he looked anywhere but at your chest. He leaned down, his mouth inches away from your ear so only you could hear. âYour damn shirt.â
âMy shirt?â You blinked up at him in confusion. âWhat about myâ?â
You looked down, and the realization hit you. Your face got hot with embarrassment once you noticed how the white fabric of your shirt was basically invisible, clinging to every inch of your bra and skin.
Sam and Sarah pulled their boat alongside the dock, the hull bumping gently against the wood. Sam hopped out first, looping the rope around the cleat. He looked up, taking in the sight of the two of you standing so close together.
âWell, would you look at that,â Sam said, a massive grin spreading across his face. âOne little dip in the lake and you two finally made up?â
Bucky felt your body tense. Sensing how uncomfortable this was for you, he was just about to step backâuntil you crossed your arms over your chest and huddled deeper into his shadow.
âYou okay?â Bucky murmured quietly, tilting his head down toward you.
After Sarah helped Cass off the boat, she stepped onto the dock and walked straight to you, moving between you and the men. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gently pried you away from Bucky, taking over his job of hiding you.
âCome on,â Sarah said softly, her voice full of understanding as she began to lead you away. âLetâs get you fixed up and into some dry clothes.â
You didnât dare look back at Bucky as you let her lead you away, though you could feel his gaze on your back until you and Sarah rounded the corner, leaving the men out of sight.
Back on the dock, the laughter died down. Bucky stood there dripping wet, looking uncharacteristically flustered.
âI take it the boat ride didnât go well?â Sam taunted, his eyes still fixed on the corner where you and his sister had disappeared.
Bucky stayed quiet, glaring at Sam as water droplets fell from his hair onto the floorboards of the dock.
âThis isnât going to work, Sam,â Bucky muttered, wringing the hem of his shirt. âShe hates me.â
âDonât be like that, Buck.â Sam patted him on the shoulder. âShe doesnât hate anyone. Besides, weâve got the whole weekend ahead of us, alright?â
Sam likely said that in hopes of lifting Buckyâs spiritsâbut it only did the exact opposite.
The sky was dark as you sat on the air mattress, applying lotion to your skin. The thought of sharing a space with Bucky felt daunting.
The rest of the day had been awkward and tense after the disaster on the lake. It didnât help that Bucky did exactly what Sam told him not to doâwhich was hovering at the far end of the room, making sure to stand wherever you werenât.
Bucky was taking his sweet time in the bathroom. As you finished with the lotion, you quickly snuggled into the air mattress, trying to fall asleep before he came back out.
Only a few minutes passed before the light from the bathroom hit your eyes as he pulled the door open. You winced at the sudden brightness but kept your eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.
A small sighâalmost a breath of reliefâescaped his lips when he noticed you were out, or at least appeared to be.
You heard his heavy footsteps thud toward the couch. He crouched with his back to you, digging through his backpack for something.
Curiosity got the best of you. You peeked one eye open, and your heart nearly leaped out of your chest.
Bucky was shirtless.
You watched as he balanced on the balls of his feet, rummaging through the bag. The moonlight piercing through the window shadowed the deep lines and muscles of his back. His vibranium arm looked just as beautiful under the moon as it had in the sun.
His hair, no longer damp and scruffy like it was at the docks, was still slightly wet and brushed back neatly.
You could smell him all the way from the air mattress. He smelled soft and clean, with the underlying masculine scent of his deodorant. You knew you should have been asleep by now, but your heart wouldnât stop racing.
Was he really going to sleep shirtless even though you were here?
Despite your heart thumping loudly in your chest, you kept your back turned to him and tried your best to fall asleep.
Hours later, you eventually drifted off, only to be jolted awake by the sound of shuffling, groaning, and mumbled curses coming from across the room.
Lifting your head, you tiredly rubbed your eyes as you glanced in Buckyâs direction.
âBucky⊠can you keep it down?â
But as you focused, you realized that whatever he was doing wasnât intentional.
Buckyâs eyes were squeezed shut, his face scrunched into a grimace as he panted heavily. A thin sheen of sweat covered the column of his neck and chest, and his fingers were digging deep into the cushions of the couch. He kept mumbling incoherent, unfinished sentences that made your heart sink with worry.
âIâm sorry,â he rasped.
âBucky? Are you okay?â you asked, your voice rising.
âDonât do this, pleaseâdonât⊠mph⊠don't do this...â
âBucky, listen to me!â
âStop, stop!â he choked out, his body jerking against the couch.
You scrambled off the air mattress, tossing the blanket aside as you rushed to Buckyâs side at the couch.
âBucky!â you whispered urgently, reaching out to grab his shoulders. You shook him, your palms warming from the heat radiating off his damp skin. âBucky, wake up. Youâre having a nightmare!â
When he didnât wake, you shook him harder until he gasped awake so violently he nearly knocked you backward. His eyes snapped openâwide, unfocused, and⊠terrified.
He sat up abruptly, his chest heaving as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. His vibranium hand clamped onto the edge of the couch so hard the wood underneath groaned.
âIâmâIâŠâ he stammered, his voice heavy with panic.
âHey... hey, look at me,â you said softly, your hands finding his wet cheeks and forcing his focus onto you. âIâm here. Youâre in Louisiana. Youâre at Sarahâs.â
You started saying the first things that came to mind. Surely, reminding someone where they were would help in a situation like this, right?
Buckyâs head whipped toward you, his gaze darting around the dark room until it finally landed on your face again. He was still shaking, the tremors racking his broad shoulders as he tried to calm himself in your touch.
You didnât say anything elseâyou didnât really know what to say in a situation like this. But being there, holding him and simply staying in his space, seemed to be enough for now.
Slowly and quietly, he began to catch his breath, and thatâs when you noticed he was trying to match his breathing to yours.
In and out. In and out, slowly, until he finally started to calm down.
âDidâŠâ He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to your lapânoticing how your oversized shirt hung loosely over your legs. âDid I wake you?â
You nodded gently, deciding to be truthful. âYou did.â
Guilt immediately clouded his features. âIâm sorry.â
A solemn frown tugged at your lips as you leaned in closer to get a better look at him. âAre you okay?â
âIâll be fine,â he muttered, pulling away from your touch so suddenly it made your hands feel cold.
He tried to get comfortable on the couch again, but the tension in his shoulders and the stiff way he moved made it clear that settling back into sleep would be impossible.
Your heart ached for him. You felt terrible.
âYou can take the air mattress, Bucky,â you said, already rising to your feet. âHere, Iâll move my thingsââ
As you stepped away, Buckyâs hand immediately clamped around your wrist. âNo, stop. Justâjust keep the mattress, okay? Iâll be fine,â he insisted, though the wobble in his voice betrayed how he really felt.
Your frown deepened. Even in this vulnerable state, he held onto that same stubborn pride that had clashed with yours earlier at the docks. Except this time, his attitude didnât piss you off. Standing before him while he looked so broken and tired only made you feel completely useless.
âIs there anything I can do?â you asked quietly, searching his face. âAnything to help?â
Bucky managed a small smileâa forced, tired expression that didnât reach his eyes. He let go of your wrist, his hand falling back to the couch.
âLetâs just get some rest. Weâve got a big birthday party tomorrow. Iâm sorry for waking you.â
You stood there for a second, looking at the cramped, uncomfortable couch and then back at the oversized air mattress that looked far too big for just one person.
âYouâre really pulling at my heartstrings here, old man.â You reached out, grabbing the hem of his blanket. âCome on. Thereâs plenty of room. Letâs just share the mattress.â
Bucky froze, his eyes widening as he looked from you to the bed. âS-shareâŠ?â
You were already getting settled on your side, your back facing him, hoping the distance would help his flustered state.
âYou need sleep, and Iâm not going to be able to close my eyes knowing youâre over there miserable on a cramped couch,â you huffed. âNow get over here.â
Bucky knew there was no point in arguing with you further. If he had learned anything from the disaster at the docks, it was that once you set your mind on something, he was better off just letting you have your way.
With a reluctant, heavy sigh, he finally stood up and moved toward the air mattress. The mattress dipped significantly under his body as he shuffled around to get comfortable on his side. He kept a respectable amount of space between the both of you, lying stiffly on the very edge.
You both remained back to back, with only the sound of crickets outside filling the silence.
âDo you get nightmares often?â you suddenly asked.
Bucky hesitated. âNot as much as I used to,â he answered in a gravelly rasp. âBut they still come and go.â
There was another pause.
This time, Bucky broke it.
âDo you care if I sleep without a shirt on?â
You couldnât help the snort that escaped your lips. âDonât worry,â you chuckled. âIâm not looking.â
The sound of your laughter in this awkward, tense space made his shoulders ease slightly and his heart beat a little slower. You two continued to lay quietly like that for a long momentâside by side, back to back.
There were a million thoughts running through Buckyâs head, and he felt particularly restless.
Finally, he decided to ask the very thing that had been occupying his mind since you two first met.
âWhy do you dislike me so much?â
Bucky braced himself for the answer, but it didnât come.
He waited, wondering if you were pretending not to hear him. He called your name softly and turned over his shoulder to look at you, but he stopped short.
You had already fallen asleep.
The morning light pierced through the front windows, hitting you right in the face. The quiet peace of the night before had been replaced by the chaotic, joyful energy of a house in full celebration mode.
From the kitchen, the clattering of pots and pans and the high pitched laughter of AJ and Cass bounced off the walls, forcing you awake.
You blinked, rubbing the grogginess from your eyes as you realized the air mattress felt much, much lighter. Bucky was already gone. His side of the bed was nearly smoothed over, and his blanket was folded neatly back on the couchâas if he hadnât slept next to you at all.
âMorning, sleepyhead!â Sarah called out from the kitchen. âIâm so sorry for all this ruckus. We were tryinâ our best to stay quiet, but everyone is just so excited since itâs AJâs big day today.â
A sleepy, lopsided smile pulled at your lips at the sight of Sarah and the kids gathered in the living room.
âItâs okay,â you said groggily, pulling yourself off the air mattress. âHappy Birthday, AJ.â
You started walking toward Sarah, meeting her in the kitchen. You took note of the trays and various types of produce lying around. âIs there anything I can do to help?â
Sarah didnât glance up from the onions she was laying out on the cutting board.
âOh no, no,â she clicked her tongue. âItâs a warzone in here that only I can handle. Youâd only get in my way, and I donât need two people trippinâ over each other in this kitchenâI can leave that to my kids.â
You frowned, leaning against the wall. âAre you sure? I feel bad just sitting around while youâre doing all thisââ
âIâm positive,â Sarah cut you off, pointing her knife at you and then toward the clock on the wall. âThe party doesnât start âtil five. So you can get outta here and enjoy New Orleans or somethinâ until everythingâs ready.â
âBut Sarah, thatâs an hour driveââ
âOut!â she laughed, shooing you toward the front door with a wave of her knife. âGo breathe some fresh air. Enjoy yourself and the town. I know you miss it.â
A small smile tugged at your lips, just as the sound of Bucky approaching from the backyardâalready dressed for the dayâmet you and Sarah in the kitchen.
âMorning,â he nodded to you curtly, as if last night hadnât happened at all.
Then he glanced at Sarah with a smileâthat stupidly charming smile. He nodded toward the counter. âLet me helpââ
Before he could take a step closer, Sarah pointed the knife at him, too. She looked back at you. âAnd take hunky robot here with you while youâre at it.â
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the way she brushed Bucky aside.
Bucky blinked, confused. âTake me where?â
âSarah, if Iâm going out to enjoy the town, Iâm doing it by myselfââ
You were cut off by the sound of the screen door hitting the wall as Sam hauled a heavy box of supplies into the room. He dropped it onto the floor with a loud thud and wiped the sweat from his forehead, grinning when he saw the three of you standing there.
âOh, perfect,â Sam panted. âYou goinâ to town? Take Bucky with you. Show him around. Heâs been following me around like some fly buzzinâ in my ear.â
Buckyâs jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms defensively. âA fly?â
Sam ignored him as he began to unbox. âSeriously, take him. He needs the fresh air, and I need the floor space. Go on, get out of here.â
You were about to protestâto insist on staying and offer your assistanceâbut Sam and Sarah were already bickering in the kitchen, talking about how Sam had to pick up AJâs friends and run to the store for last minute groceries.
When you told them that you could be an extra set of hands, they both looked at you and, at the same time, shouted, âGet out!â
Now, you found yourself behind the wheel of Sarahâs run-down but reliable Chevy with Bucky sitting in the passenger seat.
He had offered to drive, but you didnât allow him toâwhich, after the incident with the boat, was a smart move on his part.
The radio didnât work, so you two sat in awkward silence with the windows rolled down, letting the humid breeze pass through as you drove toward New Orleans. Bucky had one arm out the window, his eyes focused on the trees passing by.
âSo, where are you taking me?â he suddenly asked, breaking the silence.
âNew Orleans,â you answered flatly.
The short burst of warmth that the two of you had shared in the middle of the night seemed to have disappeared completely. Bucky had his body turned slightly away from you, and maybe that was how he wanted it. Perhaps the vulnerability he had shared last night was something he wanted to keep under wraps.
âI know that,â he scoffed. âBut what are we going to do there?â
âIâm taking you to my favorite spot,â you said, keeping your eyes on the road. âMontyâs.â
Bucky hummed. âThat like a breakfast joint or something?â
âItâs a classic diner. They have the best crawfish and cheesesteaks youâll ever put in your mouth,â you said, your stomach growling just thinking about it. âBut the best part are the beignets. They have the best stuffed beignets Iâve ever had.â
Bucky finally glanced at you, a small grin tugging at his lips. âIâve never had a beignet.â
Your eyes went wide, and you looked at him in disbelief. âWhat? You stay with the Wilsons and youâve never had a beignet?â
He shook his head. âNo.â
âHave you ever been to New Orleans?â
He shook his head again. âIâve only ever stayed in Delacroix with Sam.â
The idea of introducing the city of New Orleansâa place you adoredâto someone who had never been filled you with a sudden burst of excitement, even if it was for Bucky.
âWell, weâve got a lot of time to spare. So weâll park somewhere and walk to Montyâs, and since the restaurant is near Jackson Square, Iâll show you around.â
While you kept your eyes on the road, Bucky could only stare at you as you went on and on about the beauty of New Orleans.
You explained breathlessly how gorgeous the square wasâabout how the greenery around the cathedral was breathtaking. You mentioned the French Market a couple of blocks away and went on about the street musicians and talented jazz players on every corner. You told him about the vendors posted all around and how you could even take a trolley around the area.
For the first time since he met you, he had never heard you speak this much in one breath.
For once, you werenât throwing petty remarks at him. You talked and talked about the things you loved about the city, and Bucky felt like his heart was swelling too large for his chest.
Before long, the two of you made it into the vibrant heart of New Orleans.
The restaurant was already loudâthe clinking of silverware, loud laughter, and a jazz band playing down the street hummed in your ears.
Despite the heat, Bucky had kept his jacket on for as long as possible, but eventually, the Louisiana humidity won.
Now, with his sleeves rolled up, the vibranium of his arm caught the light poking through the window with every movement. You saw the way the couple at the table next to you whispered to each other, and how a group of tourists leaned in, pointing in his direction.
Bucky felt it, too. His jaw was clenched, and he kept his left hand tucked partially under the table. He looked like he wanted to disappear. It was no wonder he preferred staying at Samâs.
Then, the server arrived with a tray that smelled like heaven.
âHere you go,â you said, pushing the plate of powdered goodness toward him. âThe legendary stuffed beignets,â you added with a bright smile, hoping to ease his mood.
The pastries were massive, perfectly golden brown and buried under a mountain of powdered sugar. Bucky lifted one and took a careful bite, the crunch of the dough giving way to a rich and creamy center. His eyes widened, and he let out a small, muffled âmmâ as he chewed.
âItâs good, right?â you grinned, already halfway through your own beignet.
Bucky nodded, taking an even bigger bite. âGood,â he confirmed mid-chew. âVery fucking good.â
As he pulled the beignet away from his mouth, he was oblivious to the thick coat of white powder smeared across his upper lip like a mustache, with a stray patch sitting right on the tip of his nose. Bucky still had that natural, broody look on his face as he chewed. He reached for his water, and as much as you tried to keep a straight face, you couldnât help the laugh that escaped.
âBucky,â you snickered, shielding your mouth with your hand.
He stopped, glass halfway to his mouth, frowning in confusion. âWhat?â
âYouâve gotâŠâ You pointed to your own face, doubling over as another giggle escaped. âPowder all over your face, old man.â
Bucky reached up with his right hand, wiping his lip only to smear the powder further across his cheek. He realized then how ridiculous he must have looked.
âShut up,â he mumbled, keeping his eyes down as his face flushed with embarrassment. But with the way you were giggling across the table, he couldnât help but smile, too.
âHere, let me help you.â
To save him from further embarrassment, you reached across the small, wobbly table.
Your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, sweeping away the stubborn white powder. Any petty remark Bucky had been about to throw at you died in his throat the second your thumb made contact with his skin.
With the sunlight peering through the window and casting a soft glow on you, you looked⊠soft.
You looked exactly as you had last night, with the moonlight over your face while you comforted him after his nightmare.
Bucky swallowed hard. âIââ
Suddenly, a waiter rushing by with a loaded tray clipped the corner of your table. The wood jolted, the water glasses sloshing dangerously.
âSorry, folks! Pardon me,â the man mumbled, already halfway to the next table.
You pulled your hand back quickly, clearing your throat. Bucky sat back, his hand dropping to his lap as he looked toward the door.
âReady?â he asked, his voice a little lower than usual.
âYeah,â you nodded. âLetâs go.â
The two of you left the restaurant. Stepping out into the warm air, Jackson Square was already vibrant and bustling with a good mix of tourists and locals.
Couples drifted past, fingers intertwined or arms slung over shoulders, soaking in the romance of the city. You and Bucky, however, kept a careful, âfriendlyâ distance, though every time your shoulders brushed in the crowd, you both tensed up.
As you rounded the corner toward the cathedral, the soulful, brass of a trumpet pulled you toward a crowd gathered on the sidewalk.
A jazz quartet was set up near the iron gates. The music was loud and swinging. People were swaying, and some older couples were even dancing in the middle of the pavement, lost in the beat as an elderly man sang, his smooth, gravelly voice beaming through the microphone.
You stopped at the edge of the circle, smiling as you watched a young couple spin each other around.
The music was infectious, and you found yourself tapping your foot against the cobblestones. Bucky stood beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, but his eyes werenât on the musicians. He was watching the people dancing with a look of quiet, distant longing that made your heart ache just a little.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly, grabbing his attention.
Buckyâas if snapped out of his own thoughtsâjumped slightly at your question. He looked down at you, a sheepish smile on his lips.
âYeah, Iâm fine.â
You motioned to the other dancers. âDo you want to dance?â
He blinked as your question processed in his mind. You were inviting him to dance?
Were you trying to pull his leg?
Bucky sucked in a deep breath, his face flushing and his eyes going wide. â⊠Dance?â
Before Bucky could deny your offer, the saxophone player stepped forward and got lost in a wild, trilling solo that made the crowd cheer even louder. The man on the microphone let out a joyful laugh, clapping his hands in time with the beat.
âThatâs it! Thatâs it!â he called out. âDonât just stand there lookinâ pretty, now! Everyone grab a partner and start dancinâ if you havenât alreadyâlifeâs way too short to be standinâ still.â
More people spilled into the center of the circle, bumping into you and Bucky. Total strangers were spinning each other around, and it was as if the old cobblestones started to shake with everyoneâs footsteps dancing over them.
You looked up at Buckyâhis body was tense with the clear desire to bolt in the opposite direction.
âDo you want to leaveââ
âCâmon now, you two!â the singer bellowed over the music, drawing the eyes of everyone in the circle as he pointed directly at the two of you with a big grin on his face. âI see you shy young lovebirds over there. Donât be shy, big manâtake the ladyâs hand and show us what you got!â
Bucky looked like he wanted to die.
His face was as red as a tomato, and his body was as stiff as a rock. You wanted to laugh at him being called a âyoung lovebird big man,â but you knew that would only wound his pride even more.
You grabbed his hand, and his body jolted, not expecting the sudden contact.
âWhat are you doing?â he hissed.
âCome on,â you said, nodding your head toward the middle of the circle. âWeâre going to dance.â
âWhat? Heyâwaitâ!â
Bucky let himself be dragged to the center of the circle, his feet dragging against the cobblestones.
He couldnât believe this was happening.
Just twelve hours ago, he had been waking up from a nightmare in a cold sweat, and now he was standing in the middle of Jackson Square with a hundred sets of eyes on him.
This was worse than any nightmare he ever had, probably.
âI canât,â he hissed, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at the couples spinning around them. âI havenât danced since... sinceâŠâ
The Forties.
âJust donât think about it,â you said, stepping closer into his arms so he was forced to look at you instead of the crowd.
You took his right hand in yours and placed your other hand on his shoulder. His hand found your waistârespectfully. âJust follow my lead.â
You started moving your body to the swing of the rhythm, pulling him into a simple two step move.
At first, Bucky was like a statueâimmovable and completely terrifiedâbut then you caught the beat and spun yourself out. Your hand remained intertwined with his before you stepped back into his arms with a little chuckle.
Everyone around you beamed with glee. As the saxophone solo reached its peak, the notes spiraling higher and higher into the humid Louisiana air, Bucky finally started to follow along. His long legs found the rhythm, and he began moving with you.
The man on the microphone threw his head back, laughing in pure delight as Bucky finally found his feet. He pointed at Bucky with a wink before pulling the mic back to his lips.
âThere he is! White boyâs got rhythm!â he cheeredâand the crowd joined inâbefore he sung back into a smooth, jazzy verse.
As Bucky spun you around to the music, everything else became a complete blur.
In this moment, it was just you, Bucky, and the beautiful music of New Orleans.
He would occasionally step on your feet, and you would occasionally step on his. You bumped into other dancing couples now and then, but it didnât matter. You were both laughing, getting lost in the moment and in each other.
It was the first time either of you had seen the other smile like thatâcompletely genuine and unburdened.
After everything that had happened today, it felt like things between you would be different from here on out. There was a soft, gentle side to Bucky that you were slowly starting to noticeâa side that made you realize it wouldnât be such a bad thing if he were to⊠pursue Sarah.
As the song came to an end, Bucky dipped you, holding you up with the strength of his arms alone. The two of you looked at each other breathlessly, his face just inches from yours. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss youâjust like the other couples were doing, exchanging sweet, quick pecks as the music faded.
But he swallowed hard, hauling you back up and abruptly pulling his hands away from the closeness of your body.
âWe should go⊠so we can make it back in time for the party,â he said, his voice a little strained.
For some reason, the sudden loss of Buckyâs touch hurt you more than youâd like to admit.
âI⊠sure,â you nodded, straightening your clothes and avoiding his gaze. âYeah. Itâs a long drive. We should go.â
This time, Bucky insisted on driving back to Sarahâs, his excuse being, âYou showed me New Orleans, the least I can do is drive us home.â
With how great the day had been and the good mood you were in because of it, you had no problem letting him take the wheel.
âNew Orleans is beautiful,â Bucky said, glancing at you with a small smile. âItâs busy and the crowds are loud, but I had a lot of funâsurprisingly so.â
You chuckled, letting the breeze sweep over your face as you looked out the window. âThereâs so much more I have to show you. Like the steamboatsâoh! And if weâd gone further downtown French Quarter, I couldâve introduced you to my favorite spot for Cajun gumboââ
Bucky snickered. Here you were againârambling on about your favorite things. But to Bucky, listening to you talk was, oddly enough, music to his ears.
âThat all sounds great,â he said. âJust no swamp boat tours, please. Iâve had enough of those.â
You threw your head back with a hearty laugh. âFair enough.â
The truck slowly began to lose its momentum, the engine sputtering and making strange soundsâsounds that indicated it wouldnât survive the over hour long drive back home.
âUh⊠Bucky?â you asked, sitting up straighter as you watched the speedometer needle start to dip. âWhatâs going on?â
Buckyâs grip on the steering wheel tightened. âI⊠I donât know.â
âWell, stop slowing down! Weâre in the middle of the road!â Panic started to flare as you glanced at the rearview mirror.
âIâm not slowing down,â Bucky snapped back, his voice rising in panic equal to yours. He pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal, but Sarahâs Chevy only groaned in response. âThe truck is doing it on its own.â
âWell, fix it!â you shrieked. âLike⊠shift gears or something!â
âFix it?â Bucky scoffed at your expectations.
He groaned, steering the truck toward the grassy shoulder. He peered through the windshield, his expression grim as the truck gave one final lurch before going completely dead. He sighed, reaching for the keys.
âCut the engine and try again,â you urged.
He gave you a snappy lookâmostly because that was exactly what he was about to do.
âNo shit,â he mumbled, twisting the key to try the ignition again. He grunted, muttering curses as he tried over and over, but the truck wouldnât budge.
âGreat,â Bucky muttered, leaning his head back against the headrest with a thud. âJust great.â
âOh my god,â you breathed in disbelief.
You had over an hourâs drive ahead of you, and with it already being four oâclock, you were definitely going to be late for AJâs birthday party.
âYou broke Sarahâs truck.â
Buckyâs eyes flew wide as he turned to you, appalled by your audacity. âI broke Sarahâs truck?â
You crossed your arms and stubbornly glared out the window, refusing to look at him. Deep down, you knew it wasnât Buckyâs faultâthe thing was a relicâbut with the panic of missing the party bubbling up, you couldnât help yourself.
Bucky let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. âLook, just stay in the truck, alright? Iâll fix this.â
He pushed the door open and hopped out, but despite his instructions, you were right on his heels.
Bucky popped open the hood, and a fresh cloud of gray smoke billowed out, forcing him to cough and wave his hand to clear the air. He leaned over the engine bay, his vibranium hand resting on the frame as he squinted at the mess of hoses and wires.
âSee anything?â you pestered over his shoulder.
âI see a lot of things that shouldnât be smoking,â he mumbled grumpily.
He reached in, his fingers grazing a radiator hose that looked suspiciously frayed. He tried to tighten a loose bolt, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, but as soon as he touched a connector near the battery, a stray spark flew up.
âItâs the alternator,â he suggested, pulling his hand back and wiping grease onto his jeans. âOr the fuel pump. Or maybe itâs just tired of living.â
âCan you fix it?â you asked, your brows furrowed.
He looked at the smoking engine, then back at the empty road, and finally at you. He let out a long, defeated breath and shook his head.
âThere are no tools for me to work with.â He explained, shutting the hood.
âOh my god,â you repeated, your heart racing. âOh my godâwait, so what do we do? Do we call someone?â
Bucky already had his phone outâa damned flip phoneâand was already dialing Samâs number.
âWhat are you doing?â you pestered him, buzzing around him like a fly.
âIâm calling Sam to pick us up,â he answered shortly.
âOhâokay⊠good⊠thatâs⊠good.â
You crossed your arms, your thumb nail caught between your teeth as you started to pace back and forth.
You felt terrible about Sam having to go out of his way to bail you out of this mess on his nephewâs birthdayâand you felt even worse about adding a broken truck to the long list of things Sarah already had to take care of.
âSam, can you hear me? Hello?â Bucky started, raising his voice to be heard over the static. âWeâre stranded onââ He looked at you. âWhere are we?â
â300 East,â you answered quickly.
â300 East. Sarahâs truck broke down and we need aâhello? Sam, can you hear me?â
Bucky tried again, but the line went dead. He pulled the phone away from his ear and sighed, snapping it shut.
âWait, what happened? Did he pick up?â
âLine went dead,â Bucky said, staring at the useless piece of plastic in his hand.
âBut is he coming?â you pressed, stepping closer. âDoes he know where we are? Did he hear you?â
âI donât know.â
Your patience, already worn thin from the humidity and the stress of the entire situation, finally snapped.
âWhat do you mean you donât know?!â You threw your hands up in the air, your frustration taking over. âGod, maybe if I had driven, we wouldnât have gotten into this messââ
Buckyâs head snapped toward you, a scoff leaving his lips as he glared at you. âExcuse me? Why do you always blame things on me?â
âBecause you insisted on driving! And you werenât just drivingâyou were speeding! You were pushing the truck to its limits and now look at us!â Your voice rose as you stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. âLook at the mess you got us into!â
Buckyâs face twisted into a sneer so ugly, it nearly made you flinch. He stepped even closer, letting your finger dig into his chest as he loomed over you, as if reminding you of your place.
âYou know, Iâm starting to get sick and tired of the way youâre treating me,â he growled. âWe had a great dayâwe were finally getting alongâand you went and ruined it.â
Your eyes went wide. âI ruined it?â
âOh, you ruined it the second you opened your mouth!â Bucky barked.
He didnât even give you a chance to argue back, stepping forward until you were backed up against the hood of the truck.
âIâve tried my best to be patient with youâgoddamnit!â he continued angrily. âIâve tried to suck up every petty thing youâve said about me, the way you look at me like Iâm nothing but trouble, the way youâve treated me like a burden on Sarahâs and Samâs doorstep.â
Bucky ran a hand through his hair, a smile touching his lipsâthough it wasnât a smile that held any happiness at all.
âHell, I thought today I finally got through to that stubborn little head of yours. I thought maybe we actually enjoyed each otherâs company for five minutes. But I guess not, because the second something goes wrong, you go right back to the same old script.â
You felt your bottom lip wobble. You kept your eyes down, refusing to look him in the eye.
You knew he was rightâhe had no idea how he was actually perceived by you, and your treatment of him was starting to feel completely one-sided and unfair.
Unable to take his yelling any longer, you shoved Bucky out of your way. He stumbled back, surprised by the force of your hand. You started walking away from him toward the truck doors without a word, but his voice followed you, sounding exhausted and completely defeated.
âWhy do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?â
The sound of his boots scraping against the gravel caught up to you. Before you could pull away, he put a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm as he urged you to turn around.
âLook at meââ
You wrenched your shoulder out of his grasp, spinning around to face him.
âYou want to know why?â you hissed. âItâs because of what you said the first day I met you. I overheard you talking to Samâlaughing about how you were âmerely joking aroundâ with Sarah, and how you werenât looking for anything serious.â
Bucky flinched, his hands dropping to his sides as the anger that clouded his eyes was replaced by a look of sheer confusion.
âSarah is my best friend. I was the one who sat with her through the divorce. Iâm the one who stays when Sam has to leave for months at a time. Iâve seen her work herself to the bone for those boys and this family, and she deserves someone who actually values her. She deserves a real man who means what he saysânot someone who uses her as a punchline for a joke with his buddy.â
You stepped even closer, and Bucky looked more and more blindsided.
âYouâre âjust having fun,â but people like you donât realize that when you play around with someone like Sarah, you leave a mess behind for people like me to clean up. So yeah, Iâve been hard on you. Because Iâm not going to let you come into her life, charm her every time youâre over, and then leave her wondering what she did wrong when men like you get bored.â
Bucky just stood there, taking in every word as they echoed in his mind.
Was this what you had thought of him all this time?
That he was some playboy with nothing but bad intentions for Samâsâhis best friendâsâsister?
âI donât know what to say,â Bucky finally breathed out.
You crossed your arms, tilting your chin with that same stubborn scrunch of your face you did every time you were sure you were right.
âOf course you donât,â you bit out.
Bucky huffed a dry laugh, running his tongue over his front teeth as he looked down at you. Despite everything, there it was againâthat familiar, infuriating spark of yours.
Here you were, being a brat again, and as much as you got under his skin, he couldnât ever look away.
âIâm sorry,â he admitted, his voice sincere and gentle. âI didnât... I didnât think it would affect her like that. Or you, especially. If I had known it was getting under your skin, I wouldnât have kept it up.â
âIf you knew you werenât looking for a relationship, Bucky, then you shouldâve known to stop. Itâs that simple,â you snapped back, refusing to let the sudden softness in his voice throw you off.
âI get it. Iâm sorry, alright?â Bucky said, his voice straining between genuine regret and a growing irritation.
You didnât give him the satisfaction of an answer. You dismissively rolled your eyes and turned on your heel. Right now, you just needed to get away from him, so you reached for the truck door, intending to climb back into the cab and wait in silence until Sam eventually found you.
But before your hand could even wrap around the handle, Buckyâs vibranium arm shot out, slamming the door shut hard enough to make the Chevy shake.
He didnât move his hand, pinning you between his body and the truck.
âJesus Christ,â he growled, leaning down so his face was inches from your ear. âIâm apologizing, and youâre still being a stubborn brat.â
âAnd youâre being annoying!â you shot back, refusing to shrink away even though you were trapped. Your back pressed against his chest with every shallow breath you took.
âOh? So not only am I a player, but Iâm also annoying?â His eyes darkened as they searched yours, catching your gaze as you tilted your head back to look at him. âI can never win with you, can I?â
Your heart raced as you looked him dead in the eye, trying to ignore the way he loomed over you. âAnd what exactly are you trying to win out of me, Barnes?â you challenged.
Buckyâs gaze dropped to your mouth, tracing the curve of it before snapping back up. He shifted his stance, his thigh brushing firmly against yours and closing the last bit of air between you.
âYour approval,â he murmured. His voice vibrated so low in his chest that you could feel it against your own body. âI just want you to like me.â
âI⊠do like you,â you admitted, though your voice came out shaky. âYouâre a friend of SamâsâI respect you enough for that.â
âThatâs the problem,â Bucky said, the complaint sounding like a painful corak. âYou donât like me. You tolerate me.â
With his vibranium hand still propped up against the truck near your head, his right hand trailed up to play with the ends of your hair. He twirled the strands between his fingers with a careful, almost yearning touch, his fingertips gentle against the locks.
He kept his head down, but even without looking, you could feel the burn of his gaze on the back of your head.
âI want more.â
A short, sharp breath escaped your lungs at his admission. More?
âBucky,â you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. âWhat more could you possibly want from me? If I can tolerate youâisnât that already enough?â
âNo, itâs not,â he groaned. He lowered his head, nuzzling his nose against your hair and breathing you in. âI want the girl who was there for me when I was having a nightmare. I want the girl I was eating beignets with and dancing with in the middle of Jackson Square.â
Your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were running out of air.
He pressed closer, and a small gasp escaped you as you felt his thigh wedge firmly against yours. When your hand scrambled for the side of the truck for support, you gasped as as you felt a twitch coming from between his legs.
âBut instead, Iâm getting nothing but a real fucking brat,â he hissed into your ear.
He rocked his hips forward, letting you feel his hard erection against your bottom, forcing you to press even deeper against the truck.
You couldnât believe itâthe man you swore you hated was hovering over you, rocking his hips against yours like an animal. You were pinned hard against the truck, helpless to do anything but take it.
The worst part was that even if you tried to protest, you knew heâd see right through you. You were actually enjoying this. You craved the feeling of him, the way Bucky was grinding against you from behind right here on the side of the road, where anyone could drive by and see exactly what he was doing to you.
Despite being caught in such a vulnerable position, you couldnât help but let that stubborn streak flare up one more timeâmostly because you were dying to see how much more you could get out of him.
You tilted your head back until it rested against his shoulder, looking up at him and batting your lashes.
âIs this it then, Barnes?â you teased, rubbing your bottom against his straining, painful bulge. âYou think pinning me against a broken truck and acting like a caveman is going to make me like you? Youâre even more desperate than I thought.â
A broken, ragged shudder escaped his lips as he watched the curve of you settle perfectly against his cock.
It had been a long time since he had been in contact with a woman like thisâmuch less the one woman who had been driving him absolutely crazy since the moment he stepped foot back in Louisiana.
Buckyâs hands moved from the truck to your waist, giving you a possessive squeeze.
He held you still as he continued to grind into you. A low groan escaped him as the friction of his clothes against his sensitive skin hit just right.
He felt like he was on the verge of losing it. He could have come right there from the dry humping alone.
But he wasnât about to give in that easily.
âDesperate...â he muttered, breathless, as he continued to hump you like an animal. âYesâIâm desperate. Iâve been desperate for you this entire fucking time, and you didnât even know it.â
His fingers tangled into your hair, giving it a sharp tug that forced a gasp from your lips and exposed the long line of your neck to him.
âEvery time I come back to Louisiana, Iâm always hoping youâd be thereâeven if your very existence aggravates me.â
He was always looking for you?
Bucky nuzzled his nose against the sensitive skin there, his lips grazing your throat as he continued to talk filth.
âNeed to kiss you,â he mumbled against your skin, peppering your neck with sloppy, wet kisses. âNeed to stick my tongue down your throatâbet thatâll shut you up for good, wonât it?â
His rough hands roamed relentlessly over your body, bunching the fabric of your top and squeezing your breasts through the thin material. He was possessive, his touch leaving no doubt about who you belonged to in this moment.
You let out a breath as his fingers slid beneath the hem of your shirt, cupping your tits in his palms.
âA lot of talking, but not a lot of action,â you taunted, trying to bite back a moan as he gripped you harder. âSeems very on brand for you, doesnât it?â
With a snarl, his grip on your hips tightened. He spun you around, nearly slamming your back against the truck. Your yelp of surprise was cut short the second his lips found yours.
The kiss was desperate, almost inexperienced in its hunger, but he moved like a man who had been starving for this very moment with you.
You couldnât help but lean into him, your hands tangling into his hair with a tug. You moaned into his mouth, and Bucky groaned back, his tongue pushing past your lips to delve deep into the wet warmth of your mouth.
He kept you pinned firmly against the truck, his thigh between yours. You were growing wetter by the second, and you took it upon yourself to start rubbing against him, grinding your dampened cunt against his thick thigh.
Bucky pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, both of you panting for air. He watched, eyes dark and blown out, as you practically fucked yourself against his leg.
A taunting, low laugh left his lips at the filthy sight of it.
âLook at you,â he groaned. âYouâre fucking asking for it now.â
Reaching behind you, he yanked the door handle and threw it open.
âGet in the damn truck,â Bucky demanded roughly.
You scrambled inside with a defiant grin, your lips puffy and swollen. You didnât hesitate to discard your bottoms, leaving yourself in just your panties as you sprawled across the bench seat.
From your spot on the upholstery, you watched with uneven breaths as Bucky began to fumble with his belt.
âTurn around,â Bucky instructed, palming his cock through his jeans as he finally rid himself of the thick fabric. âFace down, ass up.â
Before you could even get into position, Bucky crawled into the truck right after you.
The truck dipped with all the weight shifting to one side, and he slammed the door shut behind him. He didnât even give you time to adjust before his hands found your hips, spinning you around until you were bent over, ass presented to him with your hands planted firmly on the worn leather of the Chevyâs seats.
âGodâeager, are you?â you teased.
âShut up,â Bucky hissed as his flesh hand found the back of your hair, pinning you down so your cheek squished up against the leather.
His fingers hooked the waistband of your cotton panties, giving them a harsh tug and nearly ripping them.
With your face pressed into the seats, you couldnât make out what he was doing from behind youâonly the sounds coming out of his mouth.
âFuckâlook at you,â Bucky groaned, accompanied by the sounds of his jeans and belt being pushed down. âDripping and completely bareâall just for me.â
Then, you heard the sounds of skin rubbing against skin.
The truck started to shake as deep, breathy little moans escaped Buckyâs mouth. Craning your head to peek at him, your eyes widened at what you saw.
Bucky was admiring the view from behind, his eyes completely glued to the curve of your ass and your wet, puffy cuntâclenching and begging for him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as his cool, vibranium hand spread your ass wide to get a better view, while the other was stroking his cock hard and fast.
Pre-cum already bubbled at the tip as breathy groans kept leaving his mouth. He was so bigâso fucking bigâand you werenât sure he was even going to fit.
Trying to tilt your head to get a better look, Buckyâs hand immediately left his cock and went straight back to your head, pinning you in place against the seat.
âWhat the hell do you think youâre doing?â he growled.
You winced. âWhat? I canât even look at you now?â
âYou donât get to make demands of me anymore,â he murmured roughly. He guided his cock up and down against your slit, coating himself and spreading his pre-cum everywhere. âNot when youâre bent over like this. Bent over like a dirty little slut.â
Your pussy immediately pulsed and twitched against Buckyâs tip. He probed and teased the entrance, pushing against the tight heat of your cunt to make you moan, but never quite slipping inside.
It was enough to drive you insane.
Despite everything, you wanted him to fill you right hereâright in the truck in the middle of the road, where anyone could see you getting fucked by him.
You started to wiggle your hips, your entrance catching his tip and forcing a broken groan from his throat.
âStill all this talk and no action,â you taunted, wiggling your ass against him. âYou just keep proving me more right every day. Youâre all talkââ
A yelp broke from your lips as his palm connected with the bare curve of your ass. Your body arched, a sting blooming across your skin and making your toes curl.
âYou just donât know how to keep that mouth shut, do you?â Bucky growled, leaning over you until his breath was hot against your ear.
Without waiting for an answer, he brought his hand down again, forcing another yelp from you as the slap echoed in the small truck.
Your bottomâbare and vulnerableâbegan to throb with a pulsing heat. Buckyâs right hand smoothed over the warm skin, and he mockingly clicked his tongue when you bucked your hips back for more, seeking friction from his cock despite the pain.
âChrist,â Bucky groaned, his fingers swiping your sensitive slit. âDid you just get wetter?â
âBuckyâŠâ you whined against the leather seat. â... p-please.â
Bucky froze behind you, his eyes widening slightly as the word hung in the air. Then, a devilish little grin tugged at his lips.
Please?
Did you just say âpleaseâ?
He continued to soothe your burning skin with his palm, his touch gentle and taunting. âSorry, sweetheart. What was that? I couldnât quite hear you.â
You groaned, burying your face out of embarrassment. âYou know what? Forget itââ
Another gasp escaped you as his hand came down hard against your bottom again, making your body jolt. Before you could pull away, both of his hands clamped down on your hips, dragging you back until you were pushed against him.
You could feel the ridge of his warm, throbbing cock resting right against the curve of your ass.
âCome on, baby. I think this is the first time Iâve ever heard you say âplease.â Say it again. I know youâve got a voice.â
When you continued to remain stubbornly silent, he guided his cock toward your entrance, sinking just the tip in.
You arched your back, a needy sound catching in your throat. Bucky groaned, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your tight hole. He wanted to grab your hips and slam you down on his cockâbut he couldnât. Not yet. He had to make you beg for it.
âFuckâcome on, sweets. Just say please like a good girl,â he coaxed, his own voice breaking. âCome on, I want to hear you say it. Just one more time for me, baby. Say please once and Iâll give it to you goodâI promise.â
Just once.
All he needed from you was a simple, breathy little âpleaseââ a broken whimper he could hold onto.
He knew he couldnât make you beg for much longer, mostly because he was just as greedy as you were. He was starving, and he wanted to fuck you right here, right now, until instead of begging him with a âpleaseâ youâd be begging with a âstopâ.
âP-pleaseâŠâ
The word finally broke from your lipsâbreathless and broken. It was exactly what he wanted to hear.
With his tip buried in your tight entrance, and you pulsing and wet around him, he needed to feel more. That breathy little âpleaseâ was the perfect invitation.
âGood girl,â Bucky praised, his grip on your hips tightening as he began to sink into youâslowly, making sure you felt every agonizing inch. âGood fucking girl.â
Your mouth hung wide open, drool surely spilling out and onto the seats as Bucky stretched you wide until you felt completely filled. Your breath hitched, coming in short, panicked bursts.
âGod, youâre so small,â Bucky groaned, leaning over youâhis chest pressing hard against your back. âTight enough to break me.â
Even with your lungs feeling squeezed and your head light from the stretch, you couldnât help the small, muffled huff that left you. You turned your face to glance back at him with a dazed and defiant look.
âMaybe youâre just⊠hah⊠out of practice,â you managed to choke out, a weak smirk tugging at your lips. âForgotten what a real woman feels like?â
Buckyâs eyes went dark, his brow twitching at your words. He didnât give you the satisfaction of a laugh. His fingers dug into the leather on either side of your head and he began to pull out, agonizingly slow, only to slam back into you completelyâfilling you in one hard and ruthless thrust. A thrust hard enough to make the truck shake.
âOut of practice?â he hissed. He did it again, a short, hard thrust that knocked the wind out of you. âSince youâve got such a big mouth, Iâll make sure to fuck that one next.â
Bucky grabbed your hips, his fingers pushing into your flesh and making you gasp as he began to rock his hips back and forth. He withdrew nearly all the way, leaving you cold and aching for a split second, before fucking all the way back into you.
The truck began to rock and creak, the worn leather squeaking beneath your sweaty palms as he fucked you into it.
He made sure you felt every ridge and throb of him, his tip aiming at your softest spots until your vision swam and blurred.
âStill.. got something.. to say?â he grunted between words, his heavy balls slapping against your cunt as he fucked you.
You couldnât even form a syllable. Your eyesârolled backâwere disoriented as he used your body for his pleasure.
All the noises that filled the small space of the truck were filthy. The wet squelching of your pussy as Buckyâs cock pumped in and out of you. The breathy grunts and groans leaving Buckyâs lips. Your gasps and mewls whimpering in the air.
âI⊠hahâmphâB-bucky, Iââ
âLook at you,â he huffed a deep, condescending laugh. âCanât even talk now, can you? Just laying there and taking it. GodâIâve dreamed of this so many times, you know? You, pinned underneath me, finally putting this bratty pussy to work. When I fill you up, weâre not nearly done. Iâm going to use your mouth next, Iâll make sure of it.â
Every filthy word that left Buckyâs lips only made you clench tighter around him, bringing you closer and closer.
âBut fuck, your pussy is so tightâfeel like I could be buried here all day,â Bucky groaned.
He reached around, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing with a pressure that sent sparks through your vision. He felt you flutter around him, tightening around his cock almost painfully so.
âFuckâyou gonna cum?â he asked roughly.
âM-mphâmhmâ!â you moaned against the leather, nodding your head frantically. âMâgonna cum, Bucky!â
A deep, sexy vibration of a laugh rumbled in Buckyâs chestâand you couldnât hold back anymore.
Your body shook against the leather as your walls clamped down on him with heavy pulses. A broken, high pitched keen left your throat as you felt yourself come undone all over him, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure crashing over you while he savored your tightness.
Bucky clenched his teeth, hissing as your pussyâalready tight as it wasâbecame restrictive and completely unbearable for him.
But despite the tightness, he didnât stopânot even for a second.
It was too good not to.
âShit, Iâm gonna cum, babyââ Bucky gasped, his hips moving uncoordinated as his cock pulsed and throbbed. âFuck, fuck, gonna cum⊠inside⊠gonna fill you upâ!â
Bucky pushed his hips into yours, bottoming out until there wasnât a breath of space left between you.
You felt his cock pulse inside youâand then you started to feel even fuller than you already were. His cum began to seep into your tight pussy, pumping into you until you overflowed, the excess dripping out and onto the seats.
He dropped his forehead against the back of your neck, his hot breath tickling your damp skin as he felt himself start to calm down, catching his breath.
His hands roamed over your hips, giving you a gentle rub before he pulled himself out of your abused pussy with a wet squelch. He sat back on the seat, chest heaving as he motioned for you to come closer.
âCome here, baby,â he cooed.
Bucky gently guided you toward his lap, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your sweaty forehead. Then, his vibranium hand found the back of your head, slowlyâgentlyâguiding you down toward his cock, which was still half hard and coated in juices.
âI said I was going to use your mouth next, didnât I?â
âYouâre unbelievable,â you muttered with a shaky laugh.
You were exhausted, your body still trembling from the way he had completely ruined you, yet here he wasâdemanding more. Bucky didnât look bothered at all. He just flashed a lopsided, lazy grin.
âOpen your mouth,â he commanded softly, his vibranium fingers curling gently into your hair, guiding you back toward his lap.
You rolled your eyes even as you sank down, your tongue slowly dragging up his spent cock. Your tongue danced around the tipâthen beneath the headâmaking him shudder and groan.
He was sensitive, yet he still wanted more. You stretched your mouth open, taking him in as best as you could. He was already thickening back to fullness, responding instantly to the warmth of your throat.
As you bobbed your head lazily on his cock, Bucky tossed his head back against the leather seats with a moan, rutting his hips up gentlyâjust barelyâseeking more.
âThatâs it,â he groaned. âGodâthat fucking mouthââ
But the sound of his phone ringing cut through the truck, silencing him instantly. Bucky stiffened, his breath hitching as he felt around the tangled leather seats. He grabbed his phone, glancing at the flip-phone screen with a low curse.
It was Sam.
He answered, pressing the phone to his ear while his other hand stayed tangled in your hair, his thumb stroking your cheek as you continued to work his cock.
âHey man! I'm halfway there,â Samâs voice crackled through. âJust hold on for about twenty more minutes, alright?â
Buckyâs head fell back against the headrest, his eyes squeezing shut as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock. His hips gave a small, involuntary twitch, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from crying out.
âAlright,â Bucky managed to grit out, his voice a strained, gravelly mess. âWeâre here⊠waitingâ fuck.â
He cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath as you took him deeper, his fingers tightening in your hair as a warning. There was a moment of silence on the other line.
He was sure the connection had died or Sam mightâve hung up.
âYo, Buck? You sound hurt,â Sam said, his voice rising with concern. âYâall good? You two arenât fighting, are you?â
Fighting was one way to put it.
âWeâre perfectly fine,â Bucky huffed, growing impatient. âYou said twenty minutes, right? Okay. Weâll wait for you. Bye.â
He flipped the phone shut and tossed it somewhere behind him, his attention snapping back to you. You fluttered your eyes to look up at him, your mouth still stuffed with his cock.
âYou heard that, baby? Youâve got twenty minutes to make me cum again,â he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register. âThink thatâs enough time for you?â
You popped his cock out of your mouth, wiping at the saliva that spilled onto your chin with a smug, little grin.
âBet I can do it in two.â
âOh, here you go again.â
i actually had a lot of fun writing this. now i want to book a trip to new orleans.
if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!
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"âI can help myself just fine, thanks,â you scoffed." girl you're stronger than me, I would've folded like a lawn chair
"âI do know how to row a boat,â Bucky argued back pridefully. He didnât." this is deeply funny to me
"Bucky would grunt occasionally as the blades lapped through the water, and you couldnât help but stare at the way his muscles bulged and flexed through a shirt that looked ridiculously tight on a big guy like him."
"âYou, uh⊠you come to Louisiana often?â Bucky tried for a conversation." god I am so enamoured with him
"An impatient sigh escaped you as you leaned forward, motioning to the paddles. âHere, move over. Let me take overââ âI got it,â Bucky insisted, his jaw clenched and shoulders tense in that way that made him look particularly stubborn. âJust give me a second, alright?â" this is a quintessential noughties romcom situation, they don't make 'em like this anymore :(
"âWill you stop being such a prideful man and let a woman take over the damn oars already?â" we have a point
"âShe hates me.â" don't worry baby, love and hate are so closely related
"Guilt immediately clouded his features. âIâm sorry.â" </3333333333
"âWhy do you dislike me so much?â" POOKIE you're killing me </3
"She looked back at you. âAnd take hunky robot here with you while youâre at it.â" The Wilsons are the funniest people I know I swear to god. their humour, unmatched
"âSo, where are you taking me?â he suddenly asked, breaking the silence. âNew Orleans,â you answered flatly."â side note: I mused about a fic in which reader and the Wilson's take bucky to New Orleans to experience Mardi Gras for the first time, and wanting more bucky x reader feat. the Wilson's, as I feel the tfatws era is when he's happiest. this musing being for purely selfish reasons as I adore NOLA & Mardi Gras, and I wanted to combine my two loves!! additionally I'd like to believe that culturally bucky would love it, NOLA is the birth place of jazz I mean come on! so this fic is just <33333333333
"The idea of introducing the city of New Orleansâa place you adoredâto someone who had never been filled you with a sudden burst of excitement, even if it was for Bucky." YES EXACTLY, omg this fic is something that can be so personal, like this was made just for me <333333
"As you rounded the corner toward the cathedral, the soulful, brass of a trumpet pulled you toward a crowd gathered on the sidewalk." god this is so nostalgic, it's making me sad
"âThere he is! White boyâs got rhythm!â he cheeredâand the crowd joined inâbefore he sung back into a smooth, jazzy verse." I know in my soul this man can move, especially with his slutty waist and those hips
"âEvery time I come back to Louisiana, Iâm always hoping youâd be thereâeven if your very existence aggravates me.â" you are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires-coded
the smile i had on my face when reading this reblog. i really do regret not adding mardi gras. i felt like i left out sooo much in this fic that i would've loved to add (and that's a reason why a part of me is not satisfied with it haha). but there's this video that i watched while researching for this fic, and oh my god i want to visit so bad. i feel like bucky would absolutely adore it. i could imagine later on in his life, tossing out all the congressman stuff, i can see him visiting NOLA with sam, sarah, and her kiddos :( i yearn for what louisiana bucky could've been. thank you for reading <3
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After decades of war, Bucky finally finds some peace â until a broken kid who mirrors his past forces him to consider forgiving himself enough to start living.
âž PAIRING & WC: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader â 3.8K
âž WARNINGS: Insecurities, Bucky is grappling with forgiving himself, some mentions of canon-typical violence, comics!bucky so different technically from mcu!bucky
âž A/N:Â wrote this when i was getting into reading comics and read the winter soldier (2018), highly recommend even if it's different from mcu bucky! anyways i loved seeing bucky in his big brother/parental role but also reckoning with the concept of forgiveness and second chances, and ended up with this idea. a lil different but hope you enjoy!
When Bucky defected from HYDRA, he never thought he would ever build himself another home. He couldâve gone back with Steve and stayed in New York. He couldâve stopped in his parentsâ hometown in Romania to lay low. Hell, he couldâve landed himself in a cozy prison cell on an isolated island if the government didnât pardon him for all his crimes as the Winter Soldier.Â
Instead, Bucky chose to go home. Back to where it all started. Shelbyville, Indiana.Â
After his parents passed, the deed to the home passed on to him. If he were to decide between a shoebox in the big city or a not-so-little house on the prairie, itâs a no-brainer. After years of war, or at least thatâs all he remembers, itâs nice to be somewhere quiet where he starts his morning with birdsongs and the sounds of life.Â
Thereâs also you. Youâre the cherry on top of his much-needed sundae. You â his neighbor who spends your days toiling away at your farm, helping out with markets in town, running community fairs. An all-around girl-next-door.Â
He had been worried about what people might think about him moving in here. After all, his case had been highly publicized. But this little town had welcomed him with open arms. They remembered his parents and made space for Bucky to slip right back in.Â
You had been a big help in his transition into the town. Showing him around town, inviting him to dinners with your friends, and even doing weekly movie nights with him. With you, Bucky finds parts of himself that he may have lost. You look at him with faith. You donât see what he sees when he looks in the mirror.
Not an ex-assassin. Not some hundred-year-old grump. Just Bucky.
Now, life should be all fine and dandy, right? Right. Except, Bucky has been thrown another curveball that he isnât quite sure how to manage.Â
When he pledged to use his powers for the greater good, he knew he wanted to focus his efforts on giving people a second chance. These are powers that he never asked for, but are ones he still has all the same. As they say, with great power comes great responsibility.Â
Trading one massive organization for another, Bucky decided to join SHIELD â or at least do some contract work for them. He only takes on jobs that give people an opportunity to make amends. To make right all the wrongs as best they can. Think of it as a product of his guilty conscience.Â
In this line of work, he never expected to stumble into the path of RJ Boyle.Â
Well, stumble is an understatement. RJ had been sent to commit cold-blooded murder against him, vibranium sword in hand to take out Buckyâs own arm. The kid was lethal, trained to be the near-perfect child soldier. He was arrogant and mouthy â and a little bit broken.Â
This kid is just that. A kid. A kid born into unfortunate circumstances. A kid whose weaknesses, whose vulnerability, had been used against him. Bucky knows more than anyone how HYDRA works; they break you down to build you back up, mold you into whoever they want you to be.Â
Itâs like looking at a reflection of himself. Younger. Angrier.Â
Itâs why Bucky decided to take him home â to his home. Show him a slice of the peace that he has managed to create since he left. Show him what his life could be outside of HYDRA. No longer does he need to follow orders to survive. He could just live.
But itâs hard to teach someone how to live when he himself is not yet familiar with the concept. He still has one foot in the real world and the other in the past. Shelbyville has become his safe haven, but parts of it still feel foreign to him. Itâs like heâs playing house in a place that is not his. A story that doesnât belong him, that is being narrated by someone else. A puppeteer from high above.Â
RJ probably feels the same way, especially since Bucky uprooted him from the only thing he knows. Every time he thinks about this, that vein in his head pulses for attention.Â
âYou need to cut yourself some slack,â you smile at him, setting the coffee cup on the table.Â
Bucky presses his fingers against his forehead, hoping that some of the pressure would ease his throbbing mind. He offers a grateful smile in return as he tips the cup back to his lips. âThank you, needed this,â he murmurs.Â
âWell, you do only come to me when you need coffee and eggs,â you say with a smirk, leaning back against your kitchen counter as your eyes sparkle at Bucky at your dining table.Â
His heart slams against his ribcage, a common response to the way you curl your lips so easily at him. Part of him deep inside screams that he wants more than coffee and eggs, an internal voice begging to be declared out loud. He wants mornings and evenings with you. He wants to wake up with your face nuzzled up against his chest or the whiff of your lavender shampoo lulling him to sleep. But he doesnât know how to ask for what he wants just yet. Not when itâs something thatâs for him and only for him.Â
Oblivious to his mental turmoil, you continue, âHowâs the kid doing?â
When he took him in, he thought RJ would be thankful, that he would want this as much as Bucky had. But he knows better than anyone that you canât just transition someone from a life built on pure survival and instinct and battle scars into a suburban, fictitious fairytale without consequences.Â
For the first time in a while, Bucky has to admit that he is at a loss. He is dealing with a trained child assassin who is clearly traumatized from decades of having his brain torn apart, washed, rinsed, and repeated. Trained to do what he was told to do to stay alive.Â
It also doesnât help that the kid is a teenager, which means he is dealing with a severe case of age-appropriate rebellion.Â
Doc Sampson, Buckyâs godsend of a therapist, is still working with him but obviously doctor-patient confidentiality prevents him from actually sharing anything meaningful. Bucky is constantly tempted to break into the office and steal the files, but he thinks that may be crossing some ethical and personal lines.Â
âIâŠâ he pauses, âI donât know.â His answer is honest, desperate even. âNever raised a kid before. Heâs not my biggest fan, which isnât surprising since he did try to kill me. Failed, but tried nonetheless.â
âYouâre a first-time parent. Heâs a kid with a temper. Give yourself some grace. Itâll take him a bit to warm up. Going from back-to-back wars and missions to a quiet farmhouse with sheep bleating in your backyard is a big change.âÂ
Bucky understands that. The lack of stimulation and noise out here is something he had to get used to. His fingers are always itching to do something â anything. He wants to throw the white noise machine that Sharon had gifted him as a joke out the window.Â
âRaising goats is easier than this.â
You laugh and the sound is sugar in his veins. Heâs an addict and heâs not even sure he wants to quit. âNot as expensive too, but also presumably less rewarding. RJ seems like a good kid, I wouldnât stress too much. Heâll come around.â
He wonders how you could say that so easily. Confidence laced into your syllables when youâve barely met the kid. The only time RJ said more than a word to you was the first time you came over, saw him on the couch, looked at Bucky, and said, âI didnât know you had a brother.â
RJ was quick to point out, âHeâs not my brother!â
Ouch.Â
âYouâve got a lot of faith in people,â Bucky mutters under his breath.
âNever had a reason not to,â you shrug. âLife gave me good people. It brought me you, didnât it?â
A blush is quick to furiously sprawl across his face, burning the skin with the heat of a thousand blazing suns. His lips unconsciously stretch into a ridiculously wide grin and he has to hide his childish delight behind the mask of his mug. Part of him knows that you like to tease him, say sweet nothings to see him squirm. Even now, he can see that devious little twinkle in his eye. Still, he canât help but drink your compliments in like a man starved for affection â which he is.Â
âDonât get shy on me, soldier,â you grin at him again, eyes cataloging his face to identify what shade of scarlet he has turned into this time.Â
Itâs almost shameful how obvious he is with his crush. He might as well be writing your name on the margins and praying that you would say yes to sitting with him at lunchtime. Before he got turned into the Winter Soldier, before he replaced an arm with a hunk of metal, Bucky liked to think he was better with women. He was suave. He was charming. He always knew the right things to say.Â
With you, he is in a perpetual state of being tongue-tied and carrying the perfect color of sunburnt. He is the epitome of constant embarrassment.Â
He didnât think it could get worse â heâs heard enough of Sharonâs not yet, Barnes? and Tonyâs wow, youâre embarrassingly slow for a super soldier â but even RJ, who has been here all of five minutes, has caught on.Â
The two of them are on a quick rendezvous to extract a former HYDRA scientist and relocate him into Sharonâs very safe hands. Right before they left, you had leaned against his doorframe, having visited to drop off some eggs.
âDinner tonight?â You ask. âI can whip up some food for you and RJ if you arenât back too late.â
Bucky should be focused on preparing for his mission. Heâs mentally calculating the travel time while also counting the number of lashes in your eyes. Youâre an incredibly delicious distraction in your dirt-covered overalls.Â
He can only dumbly respond with, âHm?â
âI said Iâll get kidnapped by aliens before you come back.â
Jerking up from looking at his gear, he cocks a brow at you. âUh, dinner, right? You said dinner.â
âYes, soldier.â
Bucky clears his throat, feeling that familiar weight of gratitude sit on his chest. âDinner sounds good. You donât have to, though. Weâll probably be back late.âÂ
âI can put something in your fridge.â
âYou really donât have to do that. Weâll raincheck it.â
âAlways too busy for me, sarge.â
Bucky freezes, eyes darting up to meet yours. Are you sayingâ no, it canât be right? You have so many friends. You probably have suitors lined up at your door, he should know this since heâs always checking on your front porch.Â
But thereâs no way that you would be flirting with him. Not seriously at least. âIâm not⊠too busy.â
You only hum, arms crossed over your chest. âGood luck. Be safe.â
He hates these moments the most. Leaving you behind. Youâre not even his and he dreads the idea of saying goodbye to you before he jets off to his next mission. He never knows if this will be the last time heâll see you, if heâll get picked off without ever telling you how he feels about you.Â
But then there is that niggling reminder that nudges the back of his brain, the one that drops a heaviness on his chest that makes the words on his tongue taste like lead. So he doesnât say it.Â
So he does what he always does. He murmurs his thanks before he slips onto his bike with RJ on his back. As he drives away, he watches your shrinking silhouette from his rearview mirror until youâre a speck in the distance.Â
Now, he and RJ are both on the lookout in this cabin.Â
âDude, youâre so lame.â
âWhat?â Bucky frowns, still frowning out into the woods as his most recent target packs up his bag. When RJ doesnât respond, Bucky reluctantly drags his eyes away to focus on the kid next to him. âWhat are you talking about? Also, did you really just call me dude?â
âYouâre sitting here mooning over a woman who lives right down the street from you. You spend every second of free time you have with her and you still canât ask her out?â
The kid may as well have struck him with a bullet, a clean shot straight through his chest. Bucky knows he isnât exactly subtle about his affections, but he didnât think he was that obvious either. At least, not to a point where even a moody, indifferent teenager would realize that heâs been secretly pining over his neighbor for the better part of his time here.Â
âItâs not that simple, alright. Focus on the mission,â he grumbles, redirecting his gaze back into the quiet woods. He should concentrate on keeping the man safe, keeping RJ safe. Â
Except, now heâs thinking about you and what youâre doing, so he isnât exactly functioning at a hundred percent.
âIâm just saying, itâs kind of pathetic to see you like this. I thought the Winter Soldier was supposed to be formidable.â
Bucky releases another grunt as he waves the kid away. âI donât go by that moniker anymore.â
âCanât erase your past, dude. So whatâs the hold up?â
The answer sits on the tip of his tongue. The words, the truth, are there. But itâs not one he is fully ready to reckon with yet. Itâs not a problem with a solution, not an easy one at least. Not one that may even come in his lifetime.Â
Saying it out loud would be admitting defeat. Itâs a confession that he would never even say to a priest, let alone the kid next to him. It is a surrender he isnât ready to commit to, especially when it means giving you up. It means being selfless one more time.Â
When the two of them return home, exhaustion sitting heavy on his shoulders, Bucky instinctively goes to the fridge first. He already knows what heâs going to see there, but the anticipation still has his blood thrumming in his veins. The cool air greets him before he is met with the sight of tupperwares stacked on the glass shelves. Inside, he spots his favorite dishes in a true farm-to-table experience.Â
Itâs a sight he welcomes and appreciates whenever he goes on these late-night extractions. It only took one comment from him about how heâs terrible with maintaining his schedule for you to step up and take the mantle.Â
It is in this moment of weakness, when his heart feels more tender in his chest, that he lets the admission slip.Â
At first, it is only to the silence of his home. But Buckyâs no longer alone.Â
His words are barely above a whisper, as if he is praying that the chilly night air would swallow them up and whisk them away. âIâve done a lot of things. Things Iâm not proud of. Things that I probably can never forgive myself for. While Iâve been working on atoning for my sins, itâs my burden to bear. I donât want her to shoulder that with me.â
The fridge closes with a quiet thump as desolation swiftly sinks into his bones, like the swipe of a blade across his artery. The good doctor has always told him that itâs normal to carry the guilt, but that he shouldnât let it linger. However, when his entire life has been riddled with a darkness that breeds that conscience unconsciously, Bucky has never learned any different.Â
What he doesnât expect is for RJ to say, âYouâre a fucking hypocrite.â
His brows instantly furrow as he turns to look at the kid.Â
RJ rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his body as he glares at Bucky. His gaze is a mix of irritation and fury, tinged with a disappointment that hits harder than anything else. âYouâre the one who told me that you knew what itâs like to have your life stolen from you, that you knew what itâs like to take it back. You told me that I wasnât alone, that I didnât have to be. But you canât even practice what you preach, so how am I supposed to trust you?â
Itâs ice cold in his veins. Like heâs been struck by lightning. Bucky knows heâs right, heâs always known it deep down. The demons that live in his mind will persist, but they shouldnât stop him from trying to get some semblance of normalcy in his life. To find love and happiness again. It had been a dream once upon a time â the house with the white picket fence and children running across the lawn â but that dream has changed.Â
The vision has morphed into a life that combines his past, present, and future. A life of protecting those who need it most, a life of living in the peace of his current existence, and a life of pursuing this lifelong fantasy to turn it into a reality.Â
And all he has to do is take the first step forward. He has to gather the courage and stuff down pieces of his bitter guilt one at a time until he can live with himself again. Until he can forgive himself and realize that he deserves it.Â
Deserves better things. Deserves you.Â
RJ wonât believe that redemption is possible unless Bucky believes in it himself. So he swallows thickly, resolve hardening in his veins. âAlright then, watch me.â
The kid gives him a questioning look, following hot on his trail as Bucky marches out the door into the midnight that blankets his lawn. Your place is right next door, visible enough from his porch where RJ stands with a flickering light. Alpine curls around the kidâs legs curiously.Â
His fist lifts and he moves on habit alone. He knocks on your door three times as he always does.Â
When you open the door, clearly half awake and rubbing the sleep from your eyes, he stills. âBuck?â Your voice is a little raspy, the way it is in the morning when Bucky comes a few minutes too early. âWhatâs going on?â
âShit, sorry, did I wake you up?â
Maybe he shouldâve thought this through. He doesnât even know what time it is. He probably looks like an asshole banging on your door at this forsaken hour. Heâs also a mess. He smells like sweat, dirt, and gasoline. Adrenaline pumps through him faster than those hours earlier under the threat of enemy fire.Â
What he shouldâve done was shower, sleep, buy some fresh flowers from the farmerâs market, then ask you out at a normal hour. Like a normal person.
But when he glances at his house again, RJ waiting expectantly with that damned cocky eyebrow raised, he knows he canât back down now.Â
You yawn and stretch, a sliver of skin exposing as your shirt lifts. Bucky swallows. He needs to keep it together. âI fell asleep on the couch so I needed to get up to move to my bed anyway. Whatâs up?â
Donât think about you in bed. Do not. He is not a child, he has self-control. Or so he likes to think. But then he sees the poutiness of your lips and Bucky has to subtly pinch himself to stop himself from kissing you.Â
Because that would be crazy.
Right?
Once again, the words fall off somewhere in their journey from his heart to his mouth. His heart stutters against his ribs, flesh pulsing against his bones. His eyes dart around in search of comfort.Â
And they land on you with your kind eyes and your bare feet. They land on RJ who stands there slightly doubtful, slightly hopeful. They land on Alpine who still regards him with cool affection, but a year of trust. They land on his home, this land, and the stretch of space between all of the things that formulate his life today. The redemption he is working towards. The peace etched onto every surface. The work in progress that persists.Â
And he braves himself.
With a deep breath, he smiles gently at you. âI was wondering if you wanted to go out with me.â
Your lips quirk up as you slump against the doorway, tilting your head in that way that makes him want to kiss you senseless. âCame over at midnight to get a booty call? Bold even for you, Barnes.â
Bucky chokes on nothing. Absolutely nothing. Panic flares at his chest over how his actions look. Of course, youâd think heâs being a complete and utter fool. A dog that his parents would be ashamed of. âNo, not aâ definitely not. Not that I wouldnât appreciate that, but I figured I should take you out to dinner first. I want to take you out to dinner first. That Italian place down Second Street, the one with the green logo with the ravio that you like. I thoughtââ
A warm hand settles on his arm. âIâd love to,â you interrupt softly, âtonight at seven?â
He clears his throat, nodding his head a little too eagerly. âYes, I can pick you up.â Which sounds dumb in hindsight because he lives right down the street.Â
âOn that death trap?â You eye his bike warily. âAbsolutely not. Iâll meet you there.â
âNo, Iâll get a car. Iâll borrow someoneâs.â
You snort softly, lips twitching with a smile. âHow about I pick you up in my car? Donât need a knight picking me up on his white steed.â
Bucky tinges pink again. Good thing itâs dark out. âSounds good.â
âSee you tomorrow night, sarge.â Your voice is still gentle, kind. Then you look over his shoulder and wave at the sight behind him. âNight, RJ! Alpine!âÂ
He watches from his periphery as RJ gives a small wave back. For the first time in a very long time, his chest feels lighter â not in a way that it is empty, but that it is alive with hope. When he catches the shit-eating grin on RJâs face and Alpineâs look of I-told-you-so, that voice inside his head quiets.Â
Perhaps redemption is not his acts of heroism to compensate for the guilt that plagues his every slumber. Perhaps redemption comes in the unsaid forgiveness, the acts of kindness, and the optimism for something more. It starts with coffee and eggs and a promise of dinner at seven. Â
As he stands on that porch, Bucky finally lets himself believe it, even a little â that heâs home, that heâs healing, and that this time, he might just deserve it.
+ sam: thank you for reading if you've made it this far!! see below for one of the scenes that inspired this fic! obviously not fully canon compliant but yknow it's the vibes
hello my liege i was flipping through fresh gifs and i found this one and i think it is very applicable to nutshell
oh absolutely
you woke up upset. angry. but with last night's experiments, you didn't have the energy in you to fight it. bucky had something else to do the following morning, some excuse along the lines of "people need me."
so what? you needed him. you needed bucky like you needed air. but instead, you were left alone in your cold cot. and when bucky finally returned to you later that day, he had the audacity to look more hurt than you felt.
"don't give me that look, baby," bucky sighed. he stepped closer, crouching in front of you. "you're looking at me like you hate me. you know you're breaking my heart here."
you tried not to give in. you really tried. but once his warm palm made contact with your cheek, your body couldn't help but lean closer with a soft sigh.
"there she is," he murmured gently, eyes softening as he leaned in closer to breathe you in. "can you give me one smile, please? one good smile for daddy so that he knows you still love him?"
warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, fluff, sexual tension, reader is a college student, age-gap (reader is early twenties, bucky is presumed mid 30s) voyeuristic and exhibitionism, homoeroticism, "slut" "good girl" "whore" public sex, fingering, dry humping, groping, dirty talk, degrading, size difference, mechanic!steve, slight steve x reader, reader is a pervert but bucky is too highkey, player!bucky, bisexual awakening!!!!
word count: 10.2k
main masterlist
a/n: happy pride month!!! if it wasn't obvious enough, yes, it is based on the song call me maybe by carly rae jepsen. real ones know the parodies to this song on youtube. wasabi productions ifykyk. gif by sebstangif
synopsis:
Thereâs a new guy who moved in right across from you. Heâs a total mystery, but his looks certainly aren't. Since he's subtly trying to get your attention, how could you not entertain him? Especially when you have your best friend, Steve, in your ear telling you to go for it.
Hand washing the car on a hot summerâs day was something you would never normally do.
You always let your dad handle a job like that. Heâd always tease you for being âspoiled,â always hitting you with the typical line of, âWhat happens when Iâm gone? How will you take care of yourself?â
And every time he hit you with that line, without fail, you would find yourself grabbing the plastic bucket, soap, and sponges out of spite, just to prove a point.
Now, you were outside, drenched in a mixture of sweat and water as the sun beamed down. You were splayed over the hood of the car in a way that looked anything but sexy. You had on a tank top and shortsânatural, given the heatâbut despite the porn director approved outfit, you looked anything but pornographic.
Matter of fact, if someone were to come up to you now, they would probably lose interest instantly.
âHey there,â a familiar, deep voice called from behind you. âLooking pretty hot.â
Normally, you would scramble to make yourself look at least somewhat decent for anyone who approached you in this state.
But it was your best friendâso who cares?
âSteve,â you huffed, raising a leg to balance yourself on the hood of your dadâs car. âAre you going to help me or just taunt me?â
Steve crossed his arms, watching you slip and slide all over the green station wagon that looked like it was ready to fall apart at any given moment.
âHas your dad seen you like this yet? Iâm sure if he saw what a poor job you were doing, he wouldnât ask you to clean it again.
You puffed a strand of hair out of your face. âThe reason Iâm cleaning in the first place is to prove to my dad that Iâm perfectly capable.â You mumbled under your breath, â⊠He called me spoiled.â
Steve chuckled lightly. âCanât say I disagree.â
Sneering, you spun around and hurled your wet, soapy sponge in his direction. It landed right in the center of his chest, dampening his snug t-shirt with a dark spot that began to spread. He laughed, catching the sponge before it hit the ground.
âGet off the hood before you hurt yourself,â he grinned, taking a step closer.
You grunted as you slid off the car. As you stood up, your eyes trailed past Steveâs shoulderâsomething unfamiliar catching your attention.
The house across from yours had been unoccupied for months, but someone had recently moved in. Days had passed, and you hadnât seen the new neighbors yet. But for the first time since the âFOR SALEâ sign was removed, you were finally seeing the man who lived there.
He was tallâmaybe around Steveâs height. He had dark hair that fluffed messily at the top, and he was covered in dirt, looking as though heâd been doing yard work all morning. The sun hit his eyes, and he squinted, shielding them with a large hand.
As he looked up, his gaze drifted across to your lawn, and his eyes met yours for a long moment.
A warm, friendly smile tugged at his lips, and he waved. You blinked, a light smile forming on your own face when you realized he was waving at you. You waved back shyly, and his smile grew wider.
âHe waved at me,â you pointed out.
Steve, curious, glanced over his shoulder. When he caught the manâs eye, he gave a quick, short nodâa casual greeting between guys.
âHe seems nice,â Steve shrugged. âYour new neighbor?â
You nodded, stealing a few more seconds to look at the man across the street. He bent over, his large traps tensing against his cotton tank top as he shoved a pair of gardening gloves over his rough hands. He crouched, his dirty boots and jeans digging into the soil as he began to pull at stubborn weeds.
A man. Hard at work.
The best kind of man.
âHe is,â you breathed, looking back at Steve. âAnd heâs hot, too.â
Steve huffed a laugh, stepping out of your way and towards the car, sponge in hand. âYou trying to make me jealous, sweetheart?â
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a spare sponge from the soapy tub. You stepped up to the opposite window from Steve and began to scrub.
âYou know, Iâve seen this play out in movies and stuffââ Steve shouted from the other side of the car. âThe girl who washes her car and catches the eye of the conveniently attractive neighbor across the street.â
You quirked a brow. âIn movies, or in porn?â
Now, it was Steveâs turn to roll his eyes.
âPoint aside, you should go for it.â He peeked at you over the roof and nodded in your neighborâs direction. âYouâve been single for quite a while now. It wouldnât hurt to dip your toes back in the dating scene.â
You snorted. âWhatever happened to you being jealous?â
Steve shook his head at your comment. âIâm just sayingâyouâre young and pretty. You could grab that guyâs attention if you really tried.â
Pausing your sponge, you glanced over your shoulder, catching your neighborâs gaze again. He had been staring at youâfor how long, you didnât know. Either way, your heart did a little flutter in your chest, your face warming at the thought of him watching you.
âYou really think so?â
Steve hummed. âHave I ever lied to you?â
Since that day, and with the help of Steveâs encouragement, you found yourself spending more time outside just to catch your neighborâs eye.
Most mornings, he was already out there working on the front of his houseâmowing the lawn, painting fences, or tending to the plants.
The job itself didnât matter. It was the man behind it all who suddenly made this boring, textbook suburban neighborhood interesting.
Despite only a few days passing since you last washed the car, you miraculously decided to wash it up again the day Bucky was working on the front of his house. How convenient!
Grabbing your tools while wearing a tank topâthinner than the last oneâand shorts that rode so far up they were bordering on a wedgie, you stepped out with a confident stride that immediately caught his attention.
He glanced at you from his spot on a ladder, squinting as he smiled.
âGood morning!â you chirped.
âMorning,â he shouted back, nodding to the same car parked on your driveway. âCleaning again?â
âOh, yeah,â you smirked, motioning to your bucket. âJust something I like to do every few days.â
If Steve or your dad were here, they would be laughing in your face.
The manâs eyes slowly raked over the carâtaking mental note of just how pristine and shiny it already wasâbefore trailing back to you. âMust be a high maintenance girl, huh?â
It was just something about the way he said itâhis voice deep and textured with a rasp that made every syllable sound flirtatious. You chuckled softly, your face warming.
âSomething like that.â
He chuckled in return before getting back to work.
You dunked the sponge into the bucket of soapy water and got to work. Most of your time was spent focusing more on suggestive poses than actually getting the car clean. You stretched your arms high to reach the roof so the hem of your tank top rode up, then leaned low over the hood, letting your short shorts ride up to reveal the curve of your ass.
It didnât take long for your clothes and skin to be covered in soap and water. The sun was in your favor today, catching the water as it glistened on your skin and the soap as it trickled down your thighs.
One quick glance over your shoulder made your heart stutter.
You knew you were doing it right because he was looking right at you.
He slowly began to descend the ladder. Before you knew it, he was walking in your direction, crossing the street until he reached your driveway. You had to bite back a smile as the sound of his boots scuffed closer, stopping just behind you.
âI believe we havenât properly introduced ourselves,â he called out to grab your attention.
You didnât turn around right away, careful not to make it too obvious. You glanced over your shoulder first, your back arching in a way that felt a bit of a strainâthanks to your usually terrible postureâthen slowly stood up, trying not to groan at the sudden soreness.
âI donât believe we have,â you said, setting the sponge down and wiping your wet hand on your damp shorts. Good enough.
You extended your hand and gave him your name.
He returned the gesture with a smile, his grip warm and roughâthe hands of a working man.
âItâs nice to meet you. Iâm Bucky,â he huffed. âBucky Barnes.â
He looked around, appearing almost skeptical to be standing in your driveway. âYou look young,â he pointed out. âAre your parents home? Iâd like to introduce myself, being new to the neighborhood and all.â
âTheyâre on vacation,â you explained. âIâm a student over at Jepsen University.â
âA student, huh?â He rubbed his chin with his left hand. No ring. âA pretty thing like you oughtaâ be careful at Jepsen. There are a lot of nasty frat boys roaming around campus.â
You chuckled, a light sway in your movement. âYou went there?â
He nodded. âGraduated top of my class.â
Even though there was no ring, you still needed verbal confirmation before throwing yourself at him.
âHow are you and the family liking the neighborhood so far?â You tested.
Bucky took it upon himself to lean against your car, making the frame creak slightly. He didnât seem to care about the soap dampening his jeans.
âWell, me and my girl are liking it so far,â Bucky said. âItâs quiet, and plus, I get a good view across the street.â
You made a face at his explanation. My girl. He had a wife? Or a daughter? He was deliberately flirting with you, wasnât he?
Bucky caught your expression and laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively.
âMy girl Alpine,â he clarified. "Sheâs the cat loafing on the windowsill in my living room, always staring out.â
You felt your face warm, and your posture eased up instantly. Not only was your neighbor hot as hell, but he was singleâand a cat dad! There was a bit of an age gap, but that wasnât something you couldnât handle.
You crossed your arms, the movement accentuating your breasts beneath the thin tank top, and jutted your hip out to emphasize your curves. You smiled pridefully, watching as Buckyâs gaze traced a slow path from your eyes down your body.
âLike father, like daughter, then.â
His grin widened handsomely. âWhat can I say? We like looking at pretty things.â
You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek. He was such a natural flirtâand despite all your attempts to grab his attention, your words suddenly failed you when the time came.
Bucky glanced around the driveway as if he were still searching for someone. Then, he asked, âThat guy who usually comes over to help you outââ he brought up slyly, still looking around, âhe your boyfriend?â
You blinked at his question. The way he was subtly trying to fish for information made your stomach do a flip in celebration.
âSteve?â you asked, your voice coming out breathier than intended. A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips. âNo, heâs not my boyfriend.â
You noticed the way Buckyâs shoulders relaxed slightly at your words. He was jealous.
âHe goes to Jepsen, too?â He questioned.
âYeah, heâs my senior.â
âAh,â Bucky drawled. âA frat boy, then?â
You couldnât help but laugh at his endless questioning. âI wouldnât call him that. Heâs my best friend,â you reassured him, watching the way his blue eyes searched yours. âHe just comes over sometimes to help outâor more like he comes over to make fun of me while I do all the work.â
Bucky chuckled a deep, gravelly sound that was effortlessly charming. âBest friend, huh?â He pushed himself off your car, taking a step closer to you. Fuck, he even smelled good. âWell, I canât say I blame him for wanting to hang around. Though, if you ever need a man whoâll actually help instead of just laughing at you, you know where I live.â
He tilted his head toward the house across the street, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again.
âYou said your parents were away on vacation?â he asked.
You nodded.
âFor how long?â
âJust for a couple of days,â you replied.
Bucky hummed, an amused smile playing on his face as he looked at you. He leaned in, his voice releasing a low murmur as his warm breath tickled your skin.
âA couple of days, huh?â
You caught his gaze tracing a path down your tank top before he met your eyes with a devastatingly slow smirk. If he had this much confidence at his big old age, he was definitely a troublemaker when he was in college, thatâs for sure.
âWould you look at that? Thatâs plenty of time for us to get well-acquainted.â
He watched the way your breath hitched and smiled, looking satisfied. He pulled away and turned back towards his side of the street. If he didnât know any better, he might have thought he heard a small whine escape you.
âSee you around, neighbor,â he called over his shoulder with a charming smile, sauntering down your driveway and back towards his own.
As he walked off, your heart was beating with excitementâbeating far too fast to keep up. And the only thing you could think about was how much you were going to gloat about this to Steve later.
You sat across from Steve at the same dingy diner where you two met every Thursday for brunch.
While you sat cross legged on one side of the booth, Steve sat opposite from you in a crisp navy blue collared shirt with a name tag that read HYDRAâS MECHANIC! and the name Steven on the top right.
âHe has a cat, Steve. A cat!â You smiled, dipping your toast into a pool of egg yolk. âHer name is Alpineâand he called her âhis girl.â Isnât that so sweet? I nearly had a heart attack right there in the driveway.â
Steve held a coffee mug in his hand, watching you. He was supposed to be heading into work in twenty minutes, but he was currently occupied with the girl in front of himâand her endless rambling.
âAnd heâs single,â you continued through a mouthful of toast. âNo ring, no wifeâjust a gorgeous, ripped cat dad with a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a smutty audiobook.â You paused, taking a quick sip of your drink. âI mean, yeah, heâs definitely got a few years on me. Heâs a little older, but honestly, it doesnât matter. It just makes him moreâŠâ You sighed dreamily. âCapable.â
Steve didnât say a word. He set his coffee cup down, picked up a fry, and dipped it slowly into a side of ranch with a lopsided smile.
âWhat?â you asked, your brow furrowing as you caught his grin.
âNothing,â he said simply, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
âSteve. I know that face,â you pointed out. âThatâs your âIâve got something to say, but I wonâtâ face mixed with something else. Come on, tell me! What are you thinking?â
Steve chuckled, wiping his hand on a napkin before leaning back in the booth. âI donât know how I feel about you going after some guy whoâs that much older than you. He seems like the type of guy you have fun withânot someone you bring home to your parents.â
Your eyes went wide. âWhat? You encouraged me to go for it!â
Steve held up his hands defensively. âI know, I know! Itâs just⊠I donât know. Canât a guy worry?â
You couldnât help but smile at his bashfulness. âAw, youâre worried over little olâ me, Stevie?â You tilted your head, taunting him.
He rolled his eyes. âYou know what? Forget I even said anythingââ
âNo, no,â you leaned in, resting both arms on the table âOkay, fine. Iâm hearing you. What can I do thatâll make you more comfortable in this situation?â
Steve shrugged, lifting the coffee cup and bringing it to his lips. âCould start by meeting the guy, I guess.â
âOkay,â you agreed casually. âHe did mention you, actually.â
Steve quirked a brow, eyeing you over the rim of his mug. âDid he?â
You nodded. âHe asked if you were my boyfriend.â
He scoffed a laugh. âBoyfriend? Heâs already getting jealous? Godâhow old is he again?â
You gave him a look. âHe was just curious, Steve.â
âSure, and Iâm a superhero fighting crime in New York.â Steve set his mug down, dipping another fry into ranch and plopping it into his mouth. He gathered his phone and wallet, quickly tucking them into his pockets. âI gotta go. Shift is starting soon.â
âWait.â You sat up straight. âMy dad wonât stop texting me asking if you can fix the wagonâit keeps making this weird noise and he wonât leave me alone until you look at it.â
âIâm free tomorrow after work. Iâll swing by then. Iâll consider thisââ he motioned to the table, where the bill sat squarely in the middle with your name on it, ââpayment for the repair.â Steve pushed himself out of the booth, licking the ranch off his thumb before pointing a finger at you. âIâll text you. And donât screw the guy âtil I meet him.â
You couldnât even get a word in before Steve was already rushing out the door, the bell jingling after him.
âYeah. Okay, Dad.â
After paying for brunch, you drove home feeling giddy.
Turning the corner onto your street, you spotted Bucky right outside his house, mowing the lawn. This time, he was shirtless.
You purposefully slowed down to get a good look at him, but the moment he looked up and spotted your car pulling into the driveway, he smiledâaiming it right at you through your fishbowl wagon on wheels.
Parked in the driveway, you took a quick look at yourself in the pull down mirror, checking to make sure there werenât any crumbs on your face or a stray strand of hair sticking out. Smoothing down your top and adjusting your shorts, you stepped out of the carâaiming for casual. But with the way your heart was beating, you were anything but.
Bucky had killed the mower engine and was wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He looked hypnotizing, his chest and stomach glistening in the afternoon sun.
âEventful day, I take it?â He nodded towards your car. âNoticed your wagon was missing from the driveway this morning.â
He had noticed you were gone? You tried your best not to smile.
âOh, yeah,â you leaned against trunk nonchalantly. âI went to have brunch with a friend.â
Bucky crossed his arms over his chestâa move that did very interesting things to his biceps that were hard to ignoreâand leaned his weight back on one leg.
âLet me guess,â he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. âSteve?â
After Steveâs comment about Bucky being jealous, you couldnât help but bask in confidence. You quirked a brow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. âAre you jealous?â
Bucky tilted his head, pretending to contemplate the question as he looked you up and down.
âOnly a little,â he admitted with that handsome smile of his.
You grinned. âWell, thereâs no need to be jealous, I assure you,â you explained, pushing yourself off the car.
Taking a step back, you gestured vaguely to his yard. âIâll let you get back to it, though. You look pretty busy,â you said, despite how much you actually wanted to pull up a folding chair and just stare.
You turned to head towards your front door, but you didnât get far before his voice stopped you.
âYou know,â Bucky called out as he began crossing the street. âYour car is looking a little dirty.â
You stopped and turned back, your breath catching as you watched him make his way onto your driveway. Shirtless and confident, he looked even more imposing standing on your property than he had the other day. He came to a halt beside the green wagon, glancing at the circle of bird poop sitting right on the roof.
Then, he looked back at you with a smileâas if he already knew you wouldnât say no.
âNeed some help cleaning?â
âIâŠâ Your eyes trailed to his bare chest slicked with sweat. You didnât know how you were going to control yourself, but despite it all, you swallowed hard and said, âYes.â
Minutes later, you found yourself grabbing all the supplies needed to get the car cleaned. Bucky stood by the bucket, holding the hose as the water filled the plastic. It took everything in you not to stare at the way the sun was shining down on his tanned skin, sweat and water glistening down the hard lines of his stomach.
His jeans sat dangerously low on his hips, the hem of his briefs peeking out over the top. He hadnât even started cleaning the car yet, but he already looked hotter just standing there than you ever felt trying to look appealing while washing the wagon.
When the bucket was full, he lifted it by the handle without much struggle. You watched as his biceps and forearms flexed against the weight of it. His eyes caught yours, and you swallowed hard, quickly forcing your gaze away.
Bucky stepped to the passenger side, opposite where you were standing. He didnât seem bothered by your staring.
Actually, he seemed to be feeding off the attention, especially after catching you several times.
âThis is a nice car,â he commented, dunking a sponge into the soapy water. âVintage. Iâm surprised sheâs still kicking around.â
While Bucky scrubbed down the passenger side, you kept trying to sneak glances through the untinted windows. From where you stood, you had a perfect view of his chest muscles and his stomach pressing against the glass as he worked.
âUhâyeah,â you cleared your throat, forcing your focus back. âItâs from the sixties. Itâs my dadâs, actually. Steve just helps me fix it up.â
âYour friend Steve,â Bucky mused, peeking at you over the roof. âHe a mechanic?â
âYup,â you nodded. âSo if you hear loud car noises coming from across the street tomorrow when he fixes it, you can blame him.â
âThis Steve guy sounds like a total catch,â Bucky said with a light laugh. âYou sure youâre not dating him?â
You werenât sure why Bucky was so insistent on you having a secret relationship with Steve. You had your fair share of insecure men who were jealous of you hanging around with someone like Steve Rogers, and you figured that habit died out once men hit the age of twenty five. But with Bucky standing across from you, poking at your relationship with Steve, you were starting to think that wasnât the case.
âI swear, Iâm not dating Steve.â You raised a pinky so he could see it over the roof. âBesides, heâs like an older brother to me.â
Bucky blew a raspberry.
âPoor kid,â he chuckled. âBut really, Iâm surprised he hasnât made a move on you.â He bent down to clean the rim right above the tire, letting his eyes trail over your body through the window. âIf I had a pretty girl like you in my life... we wouldnât have been friends for long.â
You felt your heart stutter.
What did that even mean?
Did he mean he would make you his girlfriend?
You wanted to hear him say itâto blurt out the answer himself.
You dumped your sponge in your bucket, letting yourself get damp with the soapy water.
âIs that so?â you challenged, trying your best to play it cool. âAnd what would we be then?â
He stood up with a low groan, looking at you over the roof. He began making his way towards your side of the car, moving purposefully slow as he dragged his sponge across the hoodâhardly even pretending to clean it anymore.
âAfter watching you wash this carâlooking like a woman straight out of my dreams? Weâd be a lot of things,â he said smoothly, locking eyes with you as he reached the corner of the bumper. âBut âfriendsâ sure as hell isnât one of them.â
You grinned, allowing him to be the one to approach you as you continued scrubbing.
âSo,â you kept your voice playful, a little teasing. âYouâve been watching me?â
Bucky didnât bother denying it.
He stopped just inches away from you. He let his tongue run slowly over his bottom lip, his eyes traveling shamelessly down your body. He was mesmerized with the path of the soap bubble trickling down your collarbone, sliding between the curve of your breasts before disappearing into the thin fabric of your tank top, where your perky nipples were poking right through.
It was hard for him to ignore. They were practically begging to be licked.
âHard not to,â he rasped, stepping closer until he was standing directly behind you. He propped one strong arm against the roof of the wagon, locking you in. âEspecially when youâre giving me a view like that from across the street.â
You let out a shaky breathâone that you hoped he didnât catch, but he did. You stared at him through the reflection of the window, and his eyes were on youâtracing your face, leaning in to smell you.
It was this very moment that made you remember the age gap, because he was moving and talking so smoothly, like it was all natural to him. As if he had been swooning women like you for years.
But you werenât going to let that shake you up.
You pushed your hips back subtly, letting your damp ass press against his hips. You tried not to gasp at the straining bulge that was waiting for you between his legs.
âWell, Iâm right here,â you said quietly, staring at him in the reflection. âSo, what then?â
Bucky looked around, his gaze sweeping across the street to make sure no one else was near.
With one hand still propped against the car, the other found your hip, giving it a firm squeeze to keep you right where you were with your ass pressed tight against his cock.
âDo you want to know what I love most about being in this neighborhood, aside from the fact that I have a super attractive neighbor living across from me?â
He rocked his hips forward, letting his hard bulge nestle perfectly between the curve of your bottom. His cock was fighting the restraint of his jeans, and just from that small movement alone, you could feel how big he was.
Bucky pressed his lips against your ear, murmuring low and tickling your skin with his warm breath. âI love how quiet it is. Thereâs rarely anyone outside, or even driving by... so when I touch you like this...â His hand slid up from your hip to cup your breast through your tank top. âNo one will even notice.â
You gasped as he fondled your tits, his rough fingers flicking the sensitive peak of your nipple. As he dampened your shirt with his wet hands, the water seeped through the thin fabric, making every bit of friction feel even more sensitive than the last.
âOh my god,â you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut.
âOh,â he let out a low, rough breath. âYouâre so reactive. Iâm going to have so much fun with you.â
Buckyâs hand left the roof of the car to wrap around your eyes, pulling you even closer against him. He rocked his hipsâback and forth, in a steady rhythmâdry humping you right there against the green wagon in your driveway where anyone could see.
The friction of his denim against your damp, thin shorts made a warm heat pool in your lower belly. Every grind of his hips was met with a hard twitch in his jeans, making your body ache for more.
His hands were everywhere. One hand gripped your hip, tickling the skin beneath the fabric as he gave your flesh a possessive squeeze.
The other continued to fondle your tits, tickling your nipple through the wet cotton. His thumb and forefinger would catch your nipple, rolling it until you were arching your back and whimpering his name.
âCute noises coming out of you,â he murmured against the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. âI wonder what kind of noises youâll make if someone were to drive by and see what Iâm doing to you?â
You shuddered as his hands roamed lower, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts. He undid the button with just one hand, letting his fingers trace the skin of your mound, grazing low until he found your clitâlightly rubbing the nub of his finger against it.
A moan left your lips as you arched your back deeper against him. He groaned as your ass rubbed against his throbbing cock.
While Buckyâs fingers toyed with your clitârubbing in deep, circular motionsâhe rocked his hips, seeking pleasure of his own. You were moaning, breathing hard as you stared down at him playing with you.
âBucky⊠I⊠mphââ you moaned, your voice pitched high. You ground your hips against his hand, fucking yourself onto his fingers.
With Bucky standing right behind you, he looked down at the soapy water trickling over your chest, his cock growing harder by the second.
He wasnât lying when he said you looked like a woman straight out of a dream. He wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes apartâwhich he could do easilyâand fuck you right on the hood of the car heâd been watching you parade yourself on for the past few days.
He was so horny, he needed to sink into youâfast.
But first, he needed to see how much of him you were willing to take, starting with his fingers.
âGotta test you, baby,â Bucky rasped against your ear. âSee how much your little pussy can take.â
His hand traced down from your clit to your folds. He groaned once his fingers made contact with your slick heat. You were so wet, so easily riled up, and so ripe for the taking, yet he wanted to make this last.
Bucky glanced around one more timeâthe coast was clear. He shoved your shorts down, exposing your ass to the cool air, and pushed your lace panties to the side. He probed his middle finger against your entrance, dancing his digit in a curling motion to prepare you.
âSo wet,â he murmured, grinning at your little gasps and mewls. âCould easily slide my finger right in.â
His middle finger slowly eased into your pussy, the warm flesh of your entrance accommodating him smoothly. There was a bit of a stretch, sure, but he could easily finger fuck you right now with no struggle at all.
âHow many can you take?â he asked.
You felt your face warm at his question. â⊠Two.â
He hummed against your ear. âTwo, huh?â
Without warning, his ring finger took a quick drag against your entranceâalready stuffed by his middle fingerâand slid in slowly. Your mouth dropped as a broken gasp tore from your throat. The stretch was burning. His fingers were long and thick, and having two of them inside was enough to fill you completely.
âFuckâBucky!â
Bucky didnât give you a chance to fully adjust to his two fingers before he started movingâthrusting in and out, curling deep inside you as he searched for every sensitive spot. With his free hand still clamped onto your hip, he humped you from behind, groaning as his denim jeans grew even tighter around his throbbing cock.
He was so hard it was painful.
His need to sink himself inside you was spiraling out of control as he felt his pre-cum soaking into his waistband. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he watched the way your ass bounced against his hand, swallowing his fingers with every move.
âChrist,â he hissed against your neck. He slowed his hand just enough to hook a third finger against your entrance, probing the tight and overtaxed muscle. âYouâre squeezing my fingers so tight, baby.â
He looked at you through the reflection of the window, and you stared back, caught in his dark gaze. âIt feels good, doesnât it?â
You nodded with a whimper.
Bucky hummed in satisfaction, and without warning, he pressed the tip of his pointer finger against your stretched entrance.
Your eyes flew wide at the sensation as he slowly began sinking that third finger in, forcing you to press your tits and hands into the glass window for support.
âBucky,â you gasped. âWhat are youâ!â
âThink you can take three?â
He couldnât even sink his third finger in all the way, your body simply wouldnât allow it.
The stretch was a dizzying mix of burn and pleasure, your hips going stiff as you struggled to take him in. He was breathing hard against your ear, and you could feel every heavy throb of his cock right behind you.
âOh myâfuck, Bucky! Itâs too much, I canâtââ
He continued rutting his hips against yours, silently encouraging you to accommodate all three fingers. You could tell he was trying to hold back. His fingers stayed there, unmoving, while his hips did all the work.
âShit,â Bucky cursed, his hand stilling completely inside you. âThreeâs a little tight, huh? Come on, baby. Try for me. If you can take three, then you can take my cock with no problem.â
You let out a shaky breath, trying to relax the muscles that were fighting him.
Slowly, you began to push back, easing yourself onto those three thick fingers and sinking down until you felt the base of his hand press against your folds.
Bucky groaned, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he felt your tight cunt finally give way to accommodate him. He was hard as hell, his balls growing heavier and his cock thickening against your lower back with every heavy breath he took.
âFuck. Thatâs a good fucking slut,â he hissed, his hips rutting in an uneven motion. âTaking all three fingersâGod, youâre being so good for me.â
His teeth traced the column of your neck, biting gently to make you gasp. His lips closed against your skin, sucking and marking you as he murmured filth in your ear.
âSo fucking tight,â he whispered. âBeen watching you for days, thinking you were going to be untouchableâjust eye candy for a man like me living across the street.â He curled his fingers, hitting your sensitive spot and making you cry out his name. âWho knew Iâd have you right here, pinned against your daddyâs car, being stretched out in broad daylight.â
You watched him through the reflection, your pussy clenching around his fingers at the dark way he was staring at you.
âOh, youâre such a little slut for your neighbor, arenât you?â
Your cunt fluttered around him, his fingers fucking you so thoroughly you felt like you could cum.
âBucky,â you whined, your hips twitching as you tried to clench your legs together. âIâmâIâm gonnaââ
âNo,â he grunted, his voice deep and rough. âNot yet.â
If he had fucked you for even a second longer, you would have cried out in pleasure and came right there in your driveway.
But instead, he abruptly yanked his fingers out, the vulgar squelch sound following after. You let out a cry of frustration, your body slumping against the window as he left you feeling cold and aching.
Behind you, Buckyâs eyes locked onto yours in the windowâs reflection as he slowly licked your juices off his fingers. The act was so unapologetically filthy that your face burned with embarrassment.
âYou even taste sweet, too,â he murmured.
He took a step back, his hands fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. He gave himself a quick squeeze through the denim before finally freeing himself.
You couldnât help it. You looked over your shoulder and your breath hitched.
Now, you understood exactly why he wanted you to take three fingers first.
His cock was massive, thick and pulsing for you. He stepped back into the space between your legs and slapped his cock against your lower back. It was hot, hard, heavy, and already wet at the tip where he leaked pre-cum. His breathing was labored as he grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip against your bare assâsmearing his slickness and marking you from behind.
Bucky moaned at the sight of his pre-cum glistening on your soft skin.
âWhat a pretty, pretty whore,â he cooed. He leaned over you, his thick arm hooking around your waist to bend you over while your hands pressed against the window.
He couldnât wait any longer. He slapped his cock against your wet pussy, making you wince as your body hummed with anticipation.
âYour pussyâs all stretched out now, ready to take me.â He grabbed his shaft, positioning the head right at your entrance.
The tip of his cock nestled perfectly between your wet, aching folds. Just the sensation of it alone was enough to make him groan in pleasure.
It felt as if your entrance was giving him warm, wet kisses, welcoming him home.
âSo, it should just slide right in,â he rasped, slowly drawing his hips forward and beginning to sink into you. âFuck.â
He couldnât even make it past the head because of how tight you were squeezing him. His face scrunched in a twist of pleasure and pain, his arm wrapping you tight as he fought for control. You mewled and whined so sweetlyâthe sound of it should have made him feel bad, but it only made him want to tear you apart more.
âFuckâhow the hell are you still so tight, even after everything?â
Every time he tried to draw his hips forward, your body buckled and clamped down, refusing to give an inch more than the head of him.
âGod,â he hissed, forehead dropping to the back of your neck as he struggled to breathe. âWhat a tight pussy fuck.â
He tried to rock into you againâslow and agonizing. He was gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, his cock pulsing as your cunt fluttered around him, desperate to stretch around his size.
âFâfuck, Bucky, Iâm tryingââ you whimpered.
âCome on, baby,â he rasped, rocking his hips and trying to find pleasure from what little was already inside you. âI already stretched you out. I know you can take me. Youâre just so fucking small.â
You looked at him over your shoulder, and your breath caught. His face was twisted. He looked almost angryâsnarling from how difficult this was for him.
You tried pushing your hips back, wincing from the delicious stretch.
âIs this hurting you, Bucky?â you asked, your voice coming out more timid than youâd like. âAre you hurting because Iâm so tight?â
A raspy, deep groan tore straight from his throat. You were asking out of genuine concern, but he took it as a challenge.
âGodâyou fuckingâare you trying to test me?â
Bucky kicked your legs wider, his hands clamping down on your waist. He hauled your body back into his, then completely sheathed his cock into your tight pussy.
The air left your lungs the minute your ass pressed against his pelvis. His dark curls were hot against your skin as he finally, finally buried himself all the way inside you. He was in to the very hilt, but you were still so tight that moving was nearly impossible.
He stayed perfectly still for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he let the sensation of your tightness settle.
In the windowâs reflection, it looked as filthy as it feltâa large, shirtless, and sweaty man mounting and rutting into you from behind like an animal, his broad shoulders swallowing your frame as his heavy arms circled you, keeping you pinned close and tight.
âFuck,â he choked out. âThere it is. There you are.â
After a moment of adjustment, he began to rock his hips. He drew in and out slowly, fucking you with deep, hard strokes that made the car creak.
âChrist, look at you,â he hissed, his eyes fixed on your reflection over your shoulder. âStretched wide openâfucked like a whore for the whole neighborhood to see. Youâre taking every goddamn inch of me, arenât you, baby?â
Your face twisted in pleasure, your bottom lip hanging open as you moaned a litany of words. âDonât stop... Please, Bucky, please.â
âThis was why you were putting your body on display for me, huh? Hoping Iâd finally cross the street one day and fuck you.â He fought for his breath as his hips increased the pace, his cock sliding in and out of you, relentlessly making you his. âYouâre a smart cookie, too. Made sure your parents were out of town so you could act like a total slut.â
You moaned, eyes rolling back at his filthy words as your body clenched in reaction. âYes! Yes, Bucky! Iâm a slut for you!â
He groaned as he tilted his hips, forcing himself even deeper into your abused pussy.
âSqueezing me so tight... I can only imagine how youâd react if your parents were to drive down the street right now. Imagine them seeing their precious daughter getting split open by her older neighborâa man they havenât even met yet.â
He felt your body begin to tremor, your walls fluttering around his pulsing cock. He leaned in even closer, his hot, raspy breath dancing against the shell of your ear.
âNow, what would happen if your poor best friendâSteve, was it?âdrove down here expecting to fix your car, only to find you with your tits pushed against the glass, stuffed full of my cock? How would you react then?â
Your knees wobbled and your eyes rolled back at the image. Your body convulsed, your pussy squeezing him impossibly tight at the filthy thought of it.
âOh, my godâS-steve...!â
Bucky huffed a disbelieving laugh, followed immediately by a deep, guttural groan at the sensation of you clenching around him. He didnât even care that you moaned another manâs name when he had you stuffed.
âFuck, so goddamn tight,â he rasped, his arms wrapping around you tighter as you shook. âShit, you like it, donât you? The idea of getting caught by your best friend? Fuckâwhat a goddamn nasty whore you are.â
His hips began to blur against yours as he fucked you harder, the car creaking and groaning with every thrust.
âBet he doesnât even know how youâre clenching around me just at the thought of him. Bet heâd ask to join in, wouldnât he? Would you let him?â He leaned over, biting your shoulder to stifle his own grunt. âWould you let your best friend watch me split you open like this?â
You nodded frantically, sweat beading at your temple from being used so thoroughly. The talkâthe idea of it was filthy, a dream that you wouldâve never considered doing, but Bucky was fucking you so good that anything he said at this point was hypnotic.
âYes, yes, Bucky, please! You both can take turns using me!â
âNasty little slut,â Bucky hissed, his teeth biting gently at your skin again. âFuck. Iâm getting close.â
You nodded hard again, your knees nearly giving out if it werenât for his big hands holding you back. âMeâme too, shitâ!â
Buckyâs grip on your body tightened, pulling you close against his bare and sweaty chest.
After three hard thrusts that bottomed out against your womb, he let out a deep grunt against your neck, his body going stiff as he finally came.
His cock pulsed as cum began to spill out of his tip, pumping you full of his seed and staying completely stuffed inside you until you were filled to the brim. Your head tossed back as a cry left your throat, your overworked pussy clamping down on him and pulsing in a way that milked every last drop out of him.
He held you tight, breathing deep into your back as you both fought for air. âFuckâyouâre draining my balls dry, sweetheart.â
You both started to laughâdeep, tired, and rumbling laughs at everything that had just transpired out in the open, right in your very driveway.
Bucky looked down, pulling out slightly and watching with blown out pupils as his cum trickled out of you and onto the concrete, where it mixed with the soapy water.
âDirty, dirty girl.â
You spent the following afternoon in your room, going through lectures, though you were hardly paying attention to them. With your cheek resting on your palm, your eyes kept drifting to the open window that gave you a perfect, convenient view of the house right across the street.
Buckyâs house.
The driveway was empty, and the lights inside were off. The blinds were pulled open though, and you could see Alpineâthe little cat he mentionedâloafing on the windowsill and staring back at you.
In that moment, the two of you were exactly the same.
Just waiting for Bucky to come home.
The silence of your bedroom was overtaken by the rumble of a truck engine. Sitting up and peeking out the window, you recognized Steveâs battered pickup truck turning into the driveway before the engine cut out.
Steve climbed out of the driverâs seat, looking as exhausted as ever, but he had still shown up for you.
You smiled, racing down the stairs to meet him outside. In the driveway, it was clear that his shift at Hydraâs mechanic shop had done a number on him. His navy blue collared shirt was stained with sweat and motor oil, with dark streaks smeared across his jaw and down the length of his thick forearms.
âSteve,â you breathed with a smile. âThought you forgot about me.â
Steve shut the door, the truck shaking from the force. âCould never forget about you. Work was just running me late.â He reached for his tools in the flatbed with a tired groan. âHowâs your car holding up? Been using it since we had lunch yesterday?â
Your face warmed at the question.
Using it wouldnât be the right term for it, you thought.
âNot really,â you said, trying to hide the bashful expression on your face.
âStill making that weird creaking noise?â he asked, walking over to the front and popping the hood.
You bit your lip and nodded. âYep.â
Steve stood over the engine, glancing at wires and mechanical parts that were completely foreign to you.
âHowâs it looking?â you asked, hovering over his shoulder.
He didnât look back as he lifted a straining wire with his pointer finger, examining it closely. âLooks like sheâs been through it.â
You had to bite back a snort. You wouldâve complimented him on his sense of humorâif only he had known any better.
âThanks for doing this, Steve,â you said, giving him a pat on his sweaty back. âMy dadâs going to be real grateful.â
Steve nodded. âHow are you and that neighbor doing?â He still kept his focus on the wires, his voice casual and unassuming. âYou two didnât screw each other after my warning yesterday, right?â
You were so glad he was focused on the engineâthe face you made wouldâve given it all away.
âWhat kind of girl do you think I am?â you scoffed playfully, crossing your arms defensively.
Steve glanced up at you with a chuckle. âA good one, I hope.â He brought his tools to the edge of the car, rummaging through the kit. âYou two exchanged numbers yet?â
âDo I have to?â you shrugged. âHe lives right across the street.â
Steve tilted his head, agreeing. âYou make a good point.â He looked back at the engine. âWhen are you going to introduce me to the guy?â
You leaned against the car with a roll of your eyes. âSteve, youâre sounding an awful lot like my dad. And why are you in such a rush to meet him, anyway?â
Steve shrugged, pulling a wire stripper out of his toolbox before setting it back down on the ground. âIâm your best friend, alright? Itâd give any man peace of mind to know what kind of person youâre talking to. Hand me a wrench, would you?â
Crouching, you dug into his toolbox until you found something that resembled a wrench. You handed it to him.
âThanks,â he mumbled, taking the tool from your hand. His brows furrowed as he wrestled with a stubborn bolt, the muscles in his forearms and biceps flexed hard, giving you an up close and personal view of a working man.
After the filthy things Bucky hissed in your ear yesterday, you couldnât help but stare. Bet heâd ask to join in, wouldnât he? Would you let him? Even worse was the memory of what you cried out in response. You both can take turns using me!
You wanted to slap yourself for the secondhand embarrassment you were giving yourself.
You wouldnât consider itâno, you couldnât. Steve was the person you grew up with, the one who fended off your bullies in kindergarten. Steve was the one who drove you to school every morning in high school. Steve was the one who took you to prom when no one else did.
Steve was family.
But as he stood there, covered in motor oil and sweat, you finally understood why a man like Bucky would be jealous over you hanging out with a man like Steve Rogers.
The wrench slipped, clattering against the frame of the car before hitting the driveway with a noise that made you flinch.
âShit,â he cursed under his breath. He bent down to pick it up. He stood up straightâreminding you all over again of just how big he was compared to youâand wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
While you were having filthy thoughts about your best friend, he was standing there in an increasingly sour mood. Between the long shift at Hydraâs and the oppressive heat of the bright afternoon sun, he looked completely spent.
You didnât know the first thing about wire strippers or engine blocks, and you felt useless just hovering over his shoulder.
âIâm going to go make you a lemonade,â you said, giving his shoulder another supportive pat. âIâll be back, okay?â
Steve didnât say anything. He just gave a single, firm nod to let you know he heard you.
As you retreated inside, a car that Steve didnât recognize pulled up to Buckyâs driveway.
It was a sleek, black convertible sports car. Steve couldnât help but clench his jaw at the sight of it. Of course Bucky drove a sports car.
He stood no chance against his rundown pickup.
Bucky stepped out of the vehicle, running a hand through his hair. As he turned to glance at your driveway, expecting to see you, his blue eyes landed on Steve instead.
For all that talk about wanting to meet him, Steve really only cared to do it if you were there, bridging the gap. So for now, until you returned with his lemonadeâwhich he was sure would make Bucky jealousâSteve tried to keep himself too occupied to notice him.
But he kept catching movement in his peripheral vision. Then another. Then another. A stupid, persistent movement that wouldnât go away, like a goddamn fly.
Steve finally lifted his head and saw Bucky still in his driveway, waving.
Waving?
At what?
Steve turned around, expecting to see you standing right behind him with the lemonade, but you werenât. The porch remained emptyâmeaning Bucky was waving at him.
âNeed any help there?â Bucky called out from across the street, resting his hands on his hips.
Steve pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. âIâm good!â he called back. Short, straight to the point, and friendly enough.
He looked back down at the engine, but it didnât take long before a bright spark jumped from the terminal with a loud popping sound. Steve jolted back with a hiss, snapping his hand away from the burn. âShit!â
Across the street, Bucky was already making his way over with a smug grin that Steve caughtâand one he especially wanted to wipe off.
Jesus. Where were you?
âHere,â Bucky finally reached him, occupying the small space between the carâs engine and where Steve was standing. âLet me help you with that.â
Before Steve could fight for his spot, Bucky was leaning over the hood, adjusting the wires in a way that made Steveâthe man wearing an actual mechanicâs uniformâfeel like a fool.
Steve stepped up to the hood, propping his arm against it as he looked the man over. âSo, youâre the new neighbor that moved in not too long ago, right?â He already knew the answer, but this was at least him trying for short conversation.
Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes slowly tracing over his uniform. Steve felt his eyebrow twitch.
Was Bucky silently insulting him?
âYup,â Bucky drawled with the pop of the p. âAnd you must be my pretty neighborâs best friend. The one she always talks about.â
It was getting harder by the second for Steve to go along with this. Bucky acted like the very frat boys at Jensen that Steve had warned you to avoid at all costsâand this man was in his mid-thirties, for crying out loud.
âYeah. Thatâs me,â Steve mumbled.
Bucky stood up straight, extending his hand for a shake. âBucky.â
Steve was wary, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the offered hand before finally reaching out to take it.
âSteve,â he replied with a firm grip.
Bucky stared at Steve for a moment longerâas if studying himâbefore looking back down at the engine with a huff of laughter. âYou know, for a guy who works at a mechanic shop, youâre struggling pretty bad with a simple alternator issue.â He bent over the engine again, examining it. âAre you trying to actually fix the car, or just trying to impress your lady friend?â
Steve let out a dry laugh as he pulled a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands. âItâs been a long day, alright? Iâve been dealing with different cars all day, the sun is giving me a headache, and now Iâve got my best friendâs neighbor to worry aboutââ
He stopped himself before he could spill too much, but Bucky caught it anyway. He chuckled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he looked up at Steve from where he was bent over. âYouâre worrying about me?â
Steve swallowed hard, trying to play it off. âI mean, Iâm just looking out for her. New guy in the neighborhood, itâs just a habit.â
Bucky hummed, a small, knowing grin resting on his lips as he turned back to the engine block.
He leaned further under the hood of the old sixties station wagon, his fingers moving towards the distributor cap and the fraying ignition wire Steve had been struggling with. Bucky repositioned the stubborn ceramic boot, adjusting the distributor to ensure the connection wouldnât spark again.
He wiped his hands on his thighs as he stood up straight.
âSince itâs an older model, youâre going to need to buy a specific point and condenser set for a sixties Ford wagon. But this should hold her over for now.â Bucky looked over at Steve. âYou got a piece of paper so I can write down the part number you need?â
Steve blinked, surprised and undeniably impressed by how easily Bucky had handled it.
âOh. Y-yeah, hold onââ He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a small, worn notepad and a pen, handing them over.
Bucky took them, resting the pad against the carâs fender as he scribbled down the specifications. Steve glanced up, watching you through the kitchen window where you were completely oblivious, still focused on making the lemonade.
Surprisingly, he actually liked the guy. Despite the age difference, he could see potential in Bucky. He was handsome, owned his own house, drove a nice car, and was clearly respectful and handy. He was exactly the type of man your parents wouldnât pass out at the sight of.
He was a good man for youâregrettably so.
Bucky finished writing, flipping the notepad shut and handing it back to Steve along with the pen. âHere you go.â
Steve smiled, and this time it was polite and genuine.
âThanks,â he muttered. âIt was nice meeting you, Bucky.â He held up the notepad with a slight nod. âSheâll appreciate this. Iâll tell her you said hi.â
Buckyâs smile widened just slightly. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your silhouette through the kitchen window where you were still occupied with the lemons. His gaze lingered on you for a split second before he looked back at Steve, his expression unreadable.
âDonât mention it,â Bucky said smoothly, giving Steve a reassuring pat on the shoulder. âRemember, Iâm right across the street if you ever need help.â
He gave a parting nod before turning on his heel, brushing past Steve to head back to his side of the street.
Steve watched Bucky disappear past his front door. By the time the door clicked shut, you had finally stepped out onto the porch with two glasses of lemonade in your hands. Perfect timing.
âSorry I took so long,â you said breathlessly, walking down the steps and handing him a glass. âItâs been a minute since I last made it from scratch, soâŠâ
âYou just missed him.â
You raised a brow in confusion. âSorry?â
Steve brought the cold glass to his lips, taking a long sip of the tart drink before nodding towards the house across the road.
âBucky.â He let out a satisfied exhale, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. âHe was just hereâhelping me with your car, actually.â
Your eyes went wide, your head snapping towards Buckyâs houseâthough he was nowhere to be found. You reached up, trying to smooth down your hair.
âHe was? Is he coming back?â You asked, sounding too excited for your own good.
Steve shrugged, taking another sip. âProbably not. Seemed like he had other things to do.â
You looked at Steve, your eyes narrowing skeptically.
Steve caught your look and let out a soft laugh, adjusting the cold glass against his palm. âWhat?â
âSoâŠâ you teased, swaying back and forth subtly. âI assume you two talked for a bit then? How was he? What do you think of him?â
Steve shrugged again, a genuine smile breaking through the tired expression he had on before. âAlright, alright. You know what? Heâs not a bad guy. He actually helped me fix your car. I like him.â He handed you back the empty glass, flipping through the crumpled pages to find the note Bucky had left. âHe even told me what part we needed to order to get this thing fixed up and working againââ
He froze in the middle of his sentence. His eyes went wide, staring at the page as his words got lost in his mind.
You raised a brow, confused with Steveâs sudden change in demeanor. âWell? What part is it? Is it expensive?â
When he didnât answer, you took it upon yourself to step closer and peek your head over his arm to look at the notepad. What you saw made your breath hitch, and your own eyes went wide.
There was no part number.
Written in bold handwriting, on the paper was a phone number, Buckyâs phone number, followed by a little message in black ink.
youâre gonna have to call me if you want that part number.
xoxo, buck.
Your jaw hung so loose, a fly couldâve flown in at any moment. Steve didnât know what to say eitherâif anything, he was standing there frozen, waiting for you to say something first.
âOh my god,â was all that managed to leave your mouth. You looked up at Steve, your wide eyes meeting his. âIs BuckyâŠ?â
Steve, poor Steve, who remained completely oblivious to the fact that you and Bucky had fucked just yesterday on this very driveway, only felt confusion and secondhand guilt.
He glanced across the street at the sleek, clean Mazda resting in Bucky's driveway, specifically staring at the custom vanity license plate on the back that read âBIGBUCK.â
Steve swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing with a rosy shade of pink. Though, he could easily excuse it for the sun.
âOf course,â he mumbled to himself. âHe drives a Miata.â
if you were curious to know why a mazda miata specifically, you can thank r/askgaybros for that when i was conducting my research.
if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!
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âïž warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, sexual tension, reader is a college student, age-gap (reader is early twenties, bucky is presumed mid 30s) voyeuristic and exhibitionism, homoeroticism, "slut" "good girl" "whore" public sex, fingering, dry humping, groping, dirty talk, degrading, size difference, mechanic!steve, slight steve x reader, reader is a pervert but bucky is too highkey, player!bucky, bisexual awakening!!!!
âïž word count: 10.2k
âïž a/n: happy pride month!!! if it wasn't obvious enough, yes, it is based on the song call me maybe by carly rae jepsen. real ones know the parodies to this song on youtube. wasabi productions ifykyk. gif by sebstangif
synopsis:
Thereâs a new guy who moved in right across from you. Heâs a total mystery, but his looks certainly aren't. Since he's subtly trying to get your attention, how could you not entertain him? Especially when you have your best friend, Steve, in your ear telling you to go for it.
â previous fic | main masterlist
Hand washing the car on a hot summerâs day was something you would never normally do.
You always let your dad handle a job like that. Heâd always tease you for being âspoiled,â always hitting you with the typical line of, âWhat happens when Iâm gone? How will you take care of yourself?â
And every time he hit you with that line, without fail, you would find yourself grabbing the plastic bucket, soap, and sponges out of spite, just to prove a point.
Now, you were outside, drenched in a mixture of sweat and water as the sun beamed down. You were splayed over the hood of the car in a way that looked anything but sexy. You had on a tank top and shortsânatural, given the heatâbut despite the porn director approved outfit, you looked anything but pornographic.
Matter of fact, if someone were to come up to you now, they would probably lose interest instantly.
âHey there,â a familiar, deep voice called from behind you. âLooking pretty hot.â
Normally, you would scramble to make yourself look at least somewhat decent for anyone who approached you in this state.
But it was your best friendâso who cares?
âSteve,â you huffed, raising a leg to balance yourself on the hood of your dadâs car. âAre you going to help me or just taunt me?â
Steve crossed his arms, watching you slip and slide all over the green station wagon that looked like it was ready to fall apart at any given moment.
âHas your dad seen you like this yet? Iâm sure if he saw what a poor job you were doing, he wouldnât ask you to clean it again.
You puffed a strand of hair out of your face. âThe reason Iâm cleaning in the first place is to prove to my dad that Iâm perfectly capable.â You mumbled under your breath, â⊠He called me spoiled.â
Steve chuckled lightly. âCanât say I disagree.â
Sneering, you spun around and hurled your wet, soapy sponge in his direction. It landed right in the center of his chest, dampening his snug t-shirt with a dark spot that began to spread. He laughed, catching the sponge before it hit the ground.
âGet off the hood before you hurt yourself,â he grinned, taking a step closer.
You grunted as you slid off the car. As you stood up, your eyes trailed past Steveâs shoulderâsomething unfamiliar catching your attention.
The house across from yours had been unoccupied for months, but someone had recently moved in. Days had passed, and you hadnât seen the new neighbors yet. But for the first time since the âFOR SALEâ sign was removed, you were finally seeing the man who lived there.
He was tallâmaybe around Steveâs height. He had dark hair that fluffed messily at the top, and he was covered in dirt, looking as though heâd been doing yard work all morning. The sun hit his eyes, and he squinted, shielding them with a large hand.
As he looked up, his gaze drifted across to your lawn, and his eyes met yours for a long moment.
A warm, friendly smile tugged at his lips, and he waved. You blinked, a light smile forming on your own face when you realized he was waving at you. You waved back shyly, and his smile grew wider.
âHe waved at me,â you pointed out.
Steve, curious, glanced over his shoulder. When he caught the manâs eye, he gave a quick, short nodâa casual greeting between guys.
âHe seems nice,â Steve shrugged. âYour new neighbor?â
You nodded, stealing a few more seconds to look at the man across the street. He bent over, his large traps tensing against his cotton tank top as he shoved a pair of gardening gloves over his rough hands. He crouched, his dirty boots and jeans digging into the soil as he began to pull at stubborn weeds.
A man. Hard at work.
The best kind of man.
âHe is,â you breathed, looking back at Steve. âAnd heâs hot, too.â
Steve huffed a laugh, stepping out of your way and towards the car, sponge in hand. âYou trying to make me jealous, sweetheart?â
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a spare sponge from the soapy tub. You stepped up to the opposite window from Steve and began to scrub.
âYou know, Iâve seen this play out in movies and stuffââ Steve shouted from the other side of the car. âThe girl who washes her car and catches the eye of the conveniently attractive neighbor across the street.â
You quirked a brow. âIn movies, or in porn?â
Now, it was Steveâs turn to roll his eyes.
âPoint aside, you should go for it.â He peeked at you over the roof and nodded in your neighborâs direction. âYouâve been single for quite a while now. It wouldnât hurt to dip your toes back in the dating scene.â
You snorted. âWhatever happened to you being jealous?â
Steve shook his head at your comment. âIâm just sayingâyouâre young and pretty. You could grab that guyâs attention if you really tried.â
Pausing your sponge, you glanced over your shoulder, catching your neighborâs gaze again. He had been staring at youâfor how long, you didnât know. Either way, your heart did a little flutter in your chest, your face warming at the thought of him watching you.
âYou really think so?â
Steve hummed. âHave I ever lied to you?â
Since that day, and with the help of Steveâs encouragement, you found yourself spending more time outside just to catch your neighborâs eye.
Most mornings, he was already out there working on the front of his houseâmowing the lawn, painting fences, or tending to the plants.
The job itself didnât matter. It was the man behind it all who suddenly made this boring, textbook suburban neighborhood interesting.
Despite only a few days passing since you last washed the car, you miraculously decided to wash it up again the day Bucky was working on the front of his house. How convenient!
Grabbing your tools while wearing a tank topâthinner than the last oneâand shorts that rode so far up they were bordering on a wedgie, you stepped out with a confident stride that immediately caught his attention.
He glanced at you from his spot on a ladder, squinting as he smiled.
âGood morning!â you chirped.
âMorning,â he shouted back, nodding to the same car parked on your driveway. âCleaning again?â
âOh, yeah,â you smirked, motioning to your bucket. âJust something I like to do every few days.â
If Steve or your dad were here, they would be laughing in your face.
The manâs eyes slowly raked over the carâtaking mental note of just how pristine and shiny it already wasâbefore trailing back to you. âMust be a high maintenance girl, huh?â
It was just something about the way he said itâhis voice deep and textured with a rasp that made every syllable sound flirtatious. You chuckled softly, your face warming.
âSomething like that.â
He chuckled in return before getting back to work.
You dunked the sponge into the bucket of soapy water and got to work. Most of your time was spent focusing more on suggestive poses than actually getting the car clean. You stretched your arms high to reach the roof so the hem of your tank top rode up, then leaned low over the hood, letting your short shorts ride up to reveal the curve of your ass.
It didnât take long for your clothes and skin to be covered in soap and water. The sun was in your favor today, catching the water as it glistened on your skin and the soap as it trickled down your thighs.
One quick glance over your shoulder made your heart stutter.
You knew you were doing it right because he was looking right at you.
He slowly began to descend the ladder. Before you knew it, he was walking in your direction, crossing the street until he reached your driveway. You had to bite back a smile as the sound of his boots scuffed closer, stopping just behind you.
âI believe we havenât properly introduced ourselves,â he called out to grab your attention.
You didnât turn around right away, careful not to make it too obvious. You glanced over your shoulder first, your back arching in a way that felt a bit of a strainâthanks to your usually terrible postureâthen slowly stood up, trying not to groan at the sudden soreness.
âI donât believe we have,â you said, setting the sponge down and wiping your wet hand on your damp shorts. Good enough.
You extended your hand and gave him your name.
He returned the gesture with a smile, his grip warm and roughâthe hands of a working man.
âItâs nice to meet you. Iâm Bucky,â he huffed. âBucky Barnes.â
He looked around, appearing almost skeptical to be standing in your driveway. âYou look young,â he pointed out. âAre your parents home? Iâd like to introduce myself, being new to the neighborhood and all.â
âTheyâre on vacation,â you explained. âIâm a student over at Jepsen University.â
âA student, huh?â He rubbed his chin with his left hand. No ring. âA pretty thing like you oughtaâ be careful at Jepsen. There are a lot of nasty frat boys roaming around campus.â
You chuckled, a light sway in your movement. âYou went there?â
He nodded. âGraduated top of my class.â
Even though there was no ring, you still needed verbal confirmation before throwing yourself at him.
âHow are you and the family liking the neighborhood so far?â You tested.
Bucky took it upon himself to lean against your car, making the frame creak slightly. He didnât seem to care about the soap dampening his jeans.
âWell, me and my girl are liking it so far,â Bucky said. âItâs quiet, and plus, I get a good view across the street.â
You made a face at his explanation. My girl. He had a wife? Or a daughter? He was deliberately flirting with you, wasnât he?
Bucky caught your expression and laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively.
âMy girl Alpine,â he clarified. "Sheâs the cat loafing on the windowsill in my living room, always staring out.â
You felt your face warm, and your posture eased up instantly. Not only was your neighbor hot as hell, but he was singleâand a cat dad! There was a bit of an age gap, but that wasnât something you couldnât handle.
You crossed your arms, the movement accentuating your breasts beneath the thin tank top, and jutted your hip out to emphasize your curves. You smiled pridefully, watching as Buckyâs gaze traced a slow path from your eyes down your body.
âLike father, like daughter, then.â
His grin widened handsomely. âWhat can I say? We like looking at pretty things.â
You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek. He was such a natural flirtâand despite all your attempts to grab his attention, your words suddenly failed you when the time came.
Bucky glanced around the driveway as if he were still searching for someone. Then, he asked, âThat guy who usually comes over to help you outââ he brought up slyly, still looking around, âhe your boyfriend?â
You blinked at his question. The way he was subtly trying to fish for information made your stomach do a flip in celebration.
âSteve?â you asked, your voice coming out breathier than intended. A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips. âNo, heâs not my boyfriend.â
You noticed the way Buckyâs shoulders relaxed slightly at your words. He was jealous.
âHe goes to Jepsen, too?â He questioned.
âYeah, heâs my senior.â
âAh,â Bucky drawled. âA frat boy, then?â
You couldnât help but laugh at his endless questioning. âI wouldnât call him that. Heâs my best friend,â you reassured him, watching the way his blue eyes searched yours. âHe just comes over sometimes to help outâor more like he comes over to make fun of me while I do all the work.â
Bucky chuckled a deep, gravelly sound that was effortlessly charming. âBest friend, huh?â He pushed himself off your car, taking a step closer to you. Fuck, he even smelled good. âWell, I canât say I blame him for wanting to hang around. Though, if you ever need a man whoâll actually help instead of just laughing at you, you know where I live.â
He tilted his head toward the house across the street, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again.
âYou said your parents were away on vacation?â he asked.
You nodded.
âFor how long?â
âJust for a couple of days,â you replied.
Bucky hummed, an amused smile playing on his face as he looked at you. He leaned in, his voice releasing a low murmur as his warm breath tickled your skin.
âA couple of days, huh?â
You caught his gaze tracing a path down your tank top before he met your eyes with a devastatingly slow smirk. If he had this much confidence at his big old age, he was definitely a troublemaker when he was in college, thatâs for sure.
âWould you look at that? Thatâs plenty of time for us to get well-acquainted.â
He watched the way your breath hitched and smiled, looking satisfied. He pulled away and turned back towards his side of the street. If he didnât know any better, he might have thought he heard a small whine escape you.
âSee you around, neighbor,â he called over his shoulder with a charming smile, sauntering down your driveway and back towards his own.
As he walked off, your heart was beating with excitementâbeating far too fast to keep up. And the only thing you could think about was how much you were going to gloat about this to Steve later.
You sat across from Steve at the same dingy diner where you two met every Thursday for brunch.
While you sat cross legged on one side of the booth, Steve sat opposite from you in a crisp navy blue collared shirt with a name tag that read HYDRAâS MECHANIC! and the name Steven on the top right.
âHe has a cat, Steve. A cat!â You smiled, dipping your toast into a pool of egg yolk. âHer name is Alpineâand he called her âhis girl.â Isnât that so sweet? I nearly had a heart attack right there in the driveway.â
Steve held a coffee mug in his hand, watching you. He was supposed to be heading into work in twenty minutes, but he was currently occupied with the girl in front of himâand her endless rambling.
âAnd heâs single,â you continued through a mouthful of toast. âNo ring, no wifeâjust a gorgeous, ripped cat dad with a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a smutty audiobook.â You paused, taking a quick sip of your drink. âI mean, yeah, heâs definitely got a few years on me. Heâs a little older, but honestly, it doesnât matter. It just makes him moreâŠâ You sighed dreamily. âCapable.â
Steve didnât say a word. He set his coffee cup down, picked up a fry, and dipped it slowly into a side of ranch with a lopsided smile.
âWhat?â you asked, your brow furrowing as you caught his grin.
âNothing,â he said simply, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
âSteve. I know that face,â you pointed out. âThatâs your âIâve got something to say, but I wonâtâ face mixed with something else. Come on, tell me! What are you thinking?â
Steve chuckled, wiping his hand on a napkin before leaning back in the booth. âI donât know how I feel about you going after some guy whoâs that much older than you. He seems like the type of guy you have fun withânot someone you bring home to your parents.â
Your eyes went wide. âWhat? You encouraged me to go for it!â
Steve held up his hands defensively. âI know, I know! Itâs just⊠I donât know. Canât a guy worry?â
You couldnât help but smile at his bashfulness. âAw, youâre worried over little olâ me, Stevie?â You tilted your head, taunting him.
He rolled his eyes. âYou know what? Forget I even said anythingââ
âNo, no,â you leaned in, resting both arms on the table âOkay, fine. Iâm hearing you. What can I do thatâll make you more comfortable in this situation?â
Steve shrugged, lifting the coffee cup and bringing it to his lips. âCould start by meeting the guy, I guess.â
âOkay,â you agreed casually. âHe did mention you, actually.â
Steve quirked a brow, eyeing you over the rim of his mug. âDid he?â
You nodded. âHe asked if you were my boyfriend.â
He scoffed a laugh. âBoyfriend? Heâs already getting jealous? Godâhow old is he again?â
You gave him a look. âHe was just curious, Steve.â
âSure, and Iâm a superhero fighting crime in New York.â Steve set his mug down, dipping another fry into ranch and plopping it into his mouth. He gathered his phone and wallet, quickly tucking them into his pockets. âI gotta go. Shift is starting soon.â
âWait.â You sat up straight. âMy dad wonât stop texting me asking if you can fix the wagonâit keeps making this weird noise and he wonât leave me alone until you look at it.â
âIâm free tomorrow after work. Iâll swing by then. Iâll consider thisââ he motioned to the table, where the bill sat squarely in the middle with your name on it, ââpayment for the repair.â Steve pushed himself out of the booth, licking the ranch off his thumb before pointing a finger at you. âIâll text you. And donât screw the guy âtil I meet him.â
You couldnât even get a word in before Steve was already rushing out the door, the bell jingling after him.
âYeah. Okay, Dad.â
After paying for brunch, you drove home feeling giddy.
Turning the corner onto your street, you spotted Bucky right outside his house, mowing the lawn. This time, he was shirtless.
You purposefully slowed down to get a good look at him, but the moment he looked up and spotted your car pulling into the driveway, he smiledâaiming it right at you through your fishbowl wagon on wheels.
Parked in the driveway, you took a quick look at yourself in the pull down mirror, checking to make sure there werenât any crumbs on your face or a stray strand of hair sticking out. Smoothing down your top and adjusting your shorts, you stepped out of the carâaiming for casual. But with the way your heart was beating, you were anything but.
Bucky had killed the mower engine and was wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He looked hypnotizing, his chest and stomach glistening in the afternoon sun.
âEventful day, I take it?â He nodded towards your car. âNoticed your wagon was missing from the driveway this morning.â
He had noticed you were gone? You tried your best not to smile.
âOh, yeah,â you leaned against trunk nonchalantly. âI went to have brunch with a friend.â
Bucky crossed his arms over his chestâa move that did very interesting things to his biceps that were hard to ignoreâand leaned his weight back on one leg.
âLet me guess,â he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. âSteve?â
After Steveâs comment about Bucky being jealous, you couldnât help but bask in confidence. You quirked a brow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. âAre you jealous?â
Bucky tilted his head, pretending to contemplate the question as he looked you up and down.
âOnly a little,â he admitted with that handsome smile of his.
You grinned. âWell, thereâs no need to be jealous, I assure you,â you explained, pushing yourself off the car.
Taking a step back, you gestured vaguely to his yard. âIâll let you get back to it, though. You look pretty busy,â you said, despite how much you actually wanted to pull up a folding chair and just stare.
You turned to head towards your front door, but you didnât get far before his voice stopped you.
âYou know,â Bucky called out as he began crossing the street. âYour car is looking a little dirty.â
You stopped and turned back, your breath catching as you watched him make his way onto your driveway. Shirtless and confident, he looked even more imposing standing on your property than he had the other day. He came to a halt beside the green wagon, glancing at the circle of bird poop sitting right on the roof.
Then, he looked back at you with a smileâas if he already knew you wouldnât say no.
âNeed some help cleaning?â
âIâŠâ Your eyes trailed to his bare chest slicked with sweat. You didnât know how you were going to control yourself, but despite it all, you swallowed hard and said, âYes.â
Minutes later, you found yourself grabbing all the supplies needed to get the car cleaned. Bucky stood by the bucket, holding the hose as the water filled the plastic. It took everything in you not to stare at the way the sun was shining down on his tanned skin, sweat and water glistening down the hard lines of his stomach.
His jeans sat dangerously low on his hips, the hem of his briefs peeking out over the top. He hadnât even started cleaning the car yet, but he already looked hotter just standing there than you ever felt trying to look appealing while washing the wagon.
When the bucket was full, he lifted it by the handle without much struggle. You watched as his biceps and forearms flexed against the weight of it. His eyes caught yours, and you swallowed hard, quickly forcing your gaze away.
Bucky stepped to the passenger side, opposite where you were standing. He didnât seem bothered by your staring.
Actually, he seemed to be feeding off the attention, especially after catching you several times.
âThis is a nice car,â he commented, dunking a sponge into the soapy water. âVintage. Iâm surprised sheâs still kicking around.â
While Bucky scrubbed down the passenger side, you kept trying to sneak glances through the untinted windows. From where you stood, you had a perfect view of his chest muscles and his stomach pressing against the glass as he worked.
âUhâyeah,â you cleared your throat, forcing your focus back. âItâs from the sixties. Itâs my dadâs, actually. Steve just helps me fix it up.â
âYour friend Steve,â Bucky mused, peeking at you over the roof. âHe a mechanic?â
âYup,â you nodded. âSo if you hear loud car noises coming from across the street tomorrow when he fixes it, you can blame him.â
âThis Steve guy sounds like a total catch,â Bucky said with a light laugh. âYou sure youâre not dating him?â
You werenât sure why Bucky was so insistent on you having a secret relationship with Steve. You had your fair share of insecure men who were jealous of you hanging around with someone like Steve Rogers, and you figured that habit died out once men hit the age of twenty five. But with Bucky standing across from you, poking at your relationship with Steve, you were starting to think that wasnât the case.
âI swear, Iâm not dating Steve.â You raised a pinky so he could see it over the roof. âBesides, heâs like an older brother to me.â
Bucky blew a raspberry.
âPoor kid,â he chuckled. âBut really, Iâm surprised he hasnât made a move on you.â He bent down to clean the rim right above the tire, letting his eyes trail over your body through the window. âIf I had a pretty girl like you in my life... we wouldnât have been friends for long.â
You felt your heart stutter.
What did that even mean?
Did he mean he would make you his girlfriend?
You wanted to hear him say itâto blurt out the answer himself.
You dumped your sponge in your bucket, letting yourself get damp with the soapy water.
âIs that so?â you challenged, trying your best to play it cool. âAnd what would we be then?â
He stood up with a low groan, looking at you over the roof. He began making his way towards your side of the car, moving purposefully slow as he dragged his sponge across the hoodâhardly even pretending to clean it anymore.
âAfter watching you wash this carâlooking like a woman straight out of my dreams? Weâd be a lot of things,â he said smoothly, locking eyes with you as he reached the corner of the bumper. âBut âfriendsâ sure as hell isnât one of them.â
You grinned, allowing him to be the one to approach you as you continued scrubbing.
âSo,â you kept your voice playful, a little teasing. âYouâve been watching me?â
Bucky didnât bother denying it.
He stopped just inches away from you. He let his tongue run slowly over his bottom lip, his eyes traveling shamelessly down your body. He was mesmerized with the path of the soap bubble trickling down your collarbone, sliding between the curve of your breasts before disappearing into the thin fabric of your tank top, where your perky nipples were poking right through.
It was hard for him to ignore. They were practically begging to be licked.
âHard not to,â he rasped, stepping closer until he was standing directly behind you. He propped one strong arm against the roof of the wagon, locking you in. âEspecially when youâre giving me a view like that from across the street.â
You let out a shaky breathâone that you hoped he didnât catch, but he did. You stared at him through the reflection of the window, and his eyes were on youâtracing your face, leaning in to smell you.
It was this very moment that made you remember the age gap, because he was moving and talking so smoothly, like it was all natural to him. As if he had been swooning women like you for years.
But you werenât going to let that shake you up.
You pushed your hips back subtly, letting your damp ass press against his hips. You tried not to gasp at the straining bulge that was waiting for you between his legs.
âWell, Iâm right here,â you said quietly, staring at him in the reflection. âSo, what then?â
Bucky looked around, his gaze sweeping across the street to make sure no one else was near.
With one hand still propped against the car, the other found your hip, giving it a firm squeeze to keep you right where you were with your ass pressed tight against his cock.
âDo you want to know what I love most about being in this neighborhood, aside from the fact that I have a super attractive neighbor living across from me?â
He rocked his hips forward, letting his hard bulge nestle perfectly between the curve of your bottom. His cock was fighting the restraint of his jeans, and just from that small movement alone, you could feel how big he was.
Bucky pressed his lips against your ear, murmuring low and tickling your skin with his warm breath. âI love how quiet it is. Thereâs rarely anyone outside, or even driving by... so when I touch you like this...â His hand slid up from your hip to cup your breast through your tank top. âNo one will even notice.â
You gasped as he fondled your tits, his rough fingers flicking the sensitive peak of your nipple. As he dampened your shirt with his wet hands, the water seeped through the thin fabric, making every bit of friction feel even more sensitive than the last.
âOh my god,â you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut.
âOh,â he let out a low, rough breath. âYouâre so reactive. Iâm going to have so much fun with you.â
Buckyâs hand left the roof of the car to wrap around your eyes, pulling you even closer against him. He rocked his hipsâback and forth, in a steady rhythmâdry humping you right there against the green wagon in your driveway where anyone could see.
The friction of his denim against your damp, thin shorts made a warm heat pool in your lower belly. Every grind of his hips was met with a hard twitch in his jeans, making your body ache for more.
His hands were everywhere. One hand gripped your hip, tickling the skin beneath the fabric as he gave your flesh a possessive squeeze.
The other continued to fondle your tits, tickling your nipple through the wet cotton. His thumb and forefinger would catch your nipple, rolling it until you were arching your back and whimpering his name.
âCute noises coming out of you,â he murmured against the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. âI wonder what kind of noises youâll make if someone were to drive by and see what Iâm doing to you?â
You shuddered as his hands roamed lower, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts. He undid the button with just one hand, letting his fingers trace the skin of your mound, grazing low until he found your clitâlightly rubbing the nub of his finger against it.
A moan left your lips as you arched your back deeper against him. He groaned as your ass rubbed against his throbbing cock.
While Buckyâs fingers toyed with your clitârubbing in deep, circular motionsâhe rocked his hips, seeking pleasure of his own. You were moaning, breathing hard as you stared down at him playing with you.
âBucky⊠I⊠mphââ you moaned, your voice pitched high. You ground your hips against his hand, fucking yourself onto his fingers.
With Bucky standing right behind you, he looked down at the soapy water trickling over your chest, his cock growing harder by the second.
He wasnât lying when he said you looked like a woman straight out of a dream. He wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes apartâwhich he could do easilyâand fuck you right on the hood of the car heâd been watching you parade yourself on for the past few days.
He was so horny, he needed to sink into youâfast.
But first, he needed to see how much of him you were willing to take, starting with his fingers.
âGotta test you, baby,â Bucky rasped against your ear. âSee how much your little pussy can take.â
His hand traced down from your clit to your folds. He groaned once his fingers made contact with your slick heat. You were so wet, so easily riled up, and so ripe for the taking, yet he wanted to make this last.
Bucky glanced around one more timeâthe coast was clear. He shoved your shorts down, exposing your ass to the cool air, and pushed your lace panties to the side. He probed his middle finger against your entrance, dancing his digit in a curling motion to prepare you.
âSo wet,â he murmured, grinning at your little gasps and mewls. âCould easily slide my finger right in.â
His middle finger slowly eased into your pussy, the warm flesh of your entrance accommodating him smoothly. There was a bit of a stretch, sure, but he could easily finger fuck you right now with no struggle at all.
âHow many can you take?â he asked.
You felt your face warm at his question. â⊠Two.â
He hummed against your ear. âTwo, huh?â
Without warning, his ring finger took a quick drag against your entranceâalready stuffed by his middle fingerâand slid in slowly. Your mouth dropped as a broken gasp tore from your throat. The stretch was burning. His fingers were long and thick, and having two of them inside was enough to fill you completely.
âFuckâBucky!â
Bucky didnât give you a chance to fully adjust to his two fingers before he started movingâthrusting in and out, curling deep inside you as he searched for every sensitive spot. With his free hand still clamped onto your hip, he humped you from behind, groaning as his denim jeans grew even tighter around his throbbing cock.
He was so hard it was painful.
His need to sink himself inside you was spiraling out of control as he felt his pre-cum soaking into his waistband. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he watched the way your ass bounced against his hand, swallowing his fingers with every move.
âChrist,â he hissed against your neck. He slowed his hand just enough to hook a third finger against your entrance, probing the tight and overtaxed muscle. âYouâre squeezing my fingers so tight, baby.â
He looked at you through the reflection of the window, and you stared back, caught in his dark gaze. âIt feels good, doesnât it?â
You nodded with a whimper.
Bucky hummed in satisfaction, and without warning, he pressed the tip of his pointer finger against your stretched entrance.
Your eyes flew wide at the sensation as he slowly began sinking that third finger in, forcing you to press your tits and hands into the glass window for support.
âBucky,â you gasped. âWhat are youâ!â
âThink you can take three?â
He couldnât even sink his third finger in all the way, your body simply wouldnât allow it.
The stretch was a dizzying mix of burn and pleasure, your hips going stiff as you struggled to take him in. He was breathing hard against your ear, and you could feel every heavy throb of his cock right behind you.
âOh myâfuck, Bucky! Itâs too much, I canâtââ
He continued rutting his hips against yours, silently encouraging you to accommodate all three fingers. You could tell he was trying to hold back. His fingers stayed there, unmoving, while his hips did all the work.
âShit,â Bucky cursed, his hand stilling completely inside you. âThreeâs a little tight, huh? Come on, baby. Try for me. If you can take three, then you can take my cock with no problem.â
You let out a shaky breath, trying to relax the muscles that were fighting him.
Slowly, you began to push back, easing yourself onto those three thick fingers and sinking down until you felt the base of his hand press against your folds.
Bucky groaned, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he felt your tight cunt finally give way to accommodate him. He was hard as hell, his balls growing heavier and his cock thickening against your lower back with every heavy breath he took.
âFuck. Thatâs a good fucking slut,â he hissed, his hips rutting in an uneven motion. âTaking all three fingersâGod, youâre being so good for me.â
His teeth traced the column of your neck, biting gently to make you gasp. His lips closed against your skin, sucking and marking you as he murmured filth in your ear.
âSo fucking tight,â he whispered. âBeen watching you for days, thinking you were going to be untouchableâjust eye candy for a man like me living across the street.â He curled his fingers, hitting your sensitive spot and making you cry out his name. âWho knew Iâd have you right here, pinned against your daddyâs car, being stretched out in broad daylight.â
You watched him through the reflection, your pussy clenching around his fingers at the dark way he was staring at you.
âOh, youâre such a little slut for your neighbor, arenât you?â
Your cunt fluttered around him, his fingers fucking you so thoroughly you felt like you could cum.
âBucky,â you whined, your hips twitching as you tried to clench your legs together. âIâmâIâm gonnaââ
âNo,â he grunted, his voice deep and rough. âNot yet.â
If he had fucked you for even a second longer, you would have cried out in pleasure and came right there in your driveway.
But instead, he abruptly yanked his fingers out, the vulgar squelch sound following after. You let out a cry of frustration, your body slumping against the window as he left you feeling cold and aching.
Behind you, Buckyâs eyes locked onto yours in the windowâs reflection as he slowly licked your juices off his fingers. The act was so unapologetically filthy that your face burned with embarrassment.
âYou even taste sweet, too,â he murmured.
He took a step back, his hands fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. He gave himself a quick squeeze through the denim before finally freeing himself.
You couldnât help it. You looked over your shoulder and your breath hitched.
Now, you understood exactly why he wanted you to take three fingers first.
His cock was massive, thick and pulsing for you. He stepped back into the space between your legs and slapped his cock against your lower back. It was hot, hard, heavy, and already wet at the tip where he leaked pre-cum. His breathing was labored as he grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip against your bare assâsmearing his slickness and marking you from behind.
Bucky moaned at the sight of his pre-cum glistening on your soft skin.
âWhat a pretty, pretty whore,â he cooed. He leaned over you, his thick arm hooking around your waist to bend you over while your hands pressed against the window.
He couldnât wait any longer. He slapped his cock against your wet pussy, making you wince as your body hummed with anticipation.
âYour pussyâs all stretched out now, ready to take me.â He grabbed his shaft, positioning the head right at your entrance.
The tip of his cock nestled perfectly between your wet, aching folds. Just the sensation of it alone was enough to make him groan in pleasure.
It felt as if your entrance was giving him warm, wet kisses, welcoming him home.
âSo, it should just slide right in,â he rasped, slowly drawing his hips forward and beginning to sink into you. âFuck.â
He couldnât even make it past the head because of how tight you were squeezing him. His face scrunched in a twist of pleasure and pain, his arm wrapping you tight as he fought for control. You mewled and whined so sweetlyâthe sound of it should have made him feel bad, but it only made him want to tear you apart more.
âFuckâhow the hell are you still so tight, even after everything?â
Every time he tried to draw his hips forward, your body buckled and clamped down, refusing to give an inch more than the head of him.
âGod,â he hissed, forehead dropping to the back of your neck as he struggled to breathe. âWhat a tight pussy fuck.â
He tried to rock into you againâslow and agonizing. He was gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, his cock pulsing as your cunt fluttered around him, desperate to stretch around his size.
âFâfuck, Bucky, Iâm tryingââ you whimpered.
âCome on, baby,â he rasped, rocking his hips and trying to find pleasure from what little was already inside you. âI already stretched you out. I know you can take me. Youâre just so fucking small.â
You looked at him over your shoulder, and your breath caught. His face was twisted. He looked almost angryâsnarling from how difficult this was for him.
You tried pushing your hips back, wincing from the delicious stretch.
âIs this hurting you, Bucky?â you asked, your voice coming out more timid than youâd like. âAre you hurting because Iâm so tight?â
A raspy, deep groan tore straight from his throat. You were asking out of genuine concern, but he took it as a challenge.
âGodâyou fuckingâare you trying to test me?â
Bucky kicked your legs wider, his hands clamping down on your waist. He hauled your body back into his, then completely sheathed his cock into your tight pussy.
The air left your lungs the minute your ass pressed against his pelvis. His dark curls were hot against your skin as he finally, finally buried himself all the way inside you. He was in to the very hilt, but you were still so tight that moving was nearly impossible.
He stayed perfectly still for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he let the sensation of your tightness settle.
In the windowâs reflection, it looked as filthy as it feltâa large, shirtless, and sweaty man mounting and rutting into you from behind like an animal, his broad shoulders swallowing your frame as his heavy arms circled you, keeping you pinned close and tight.
âFuck,â he choked out. âThere it is. There you are.â
After a moment of adjustment, he began to rock his hips. He drew in and out slowly, fucking you with deep, hard strokes that made the car creak.
âChrist, look at you,â he hissed, his eyes fixed on your reflection over your shoulder. âStretched wide openâfucked like a whore for the whole neighborhood to see. Youâre taking every goddamn inch of me, arenât you, baby?â
Your face twisted in pleasure, your bottom lip hanging open as you moaned a litany of words. âDonât stop... Please, Bucky, please.â
âThis was why you were putting your body on display for me, huh? Hoping Iâd finally cross the street one day and fuck you.â He fought for his breath as his hips increased the pace, his cock sliding in and out of you, relentlessly making you his. âYouâre a smart cookie, too. Made sure your parents were out of town so you could act like a total slut.â
You moaned, eyes rolling back at his filthy words as your body clenched in reaction. âYes! Yes, Bucky! Iâm a slut for you!â
He groaned as he tilted his hips, forcing himself even deeper into your abused pussy.
âSqueezing me so tight... I can only imagine how youâd react if your parents were to drive down the street right now. Imagine them seeing their precious daughter getting split open by her older neighborâa man they havenât even met yet.â
He felt your body begin to tremor, your walls fluttering around his pulsing cock. He leaned in even closer, his hot, raspy breath dancing against the shell of your ear.
âNow, what would happen if your poor best friendâSteve, was it?âdrove down here expecting to fix your car, only to find you with your tits pushed against the glass, stuffed full of my cock? How would you react then?â
Your knees wobbled and your eyes rolled back at the image. Your body convulsed, your pussy squeezing him impossibly tight at the filthy thought of it.
âOh, my godâS-steve...!â
Bucky huffed a disbelieving laugh, followed immediately by a deep, guttural groan at the sensation of you clenching around him. He didnât even care that you moaned another manâs name when he had you stuffed.
âFuck, so goddamn tight,â he rasped, his arms wrapping around you tighter as you shook. âShit, you like it, donât you? The idea of getting caught by your best friend? Fuckâwhat a goddamn nasty whore you are.â
His hips began to blur against yours as he fucked you harder, the car creaking and groaning with every thrust.
âBet he doesnât even know how youâre clenching around me just at the thought of him. Bet heâd ask to join in, wouldnât he? Would you let him?â He leaned over, biting your shoulder to stifle his own grunt. âWould you let your best friend watch me split you open like this?â
You nodded frantically, sweat beading at your temple from being used so thoroughly. The talkâthe idea of it was filthy, a dream that you wouldâve never considered doing, but Bucky was fucking you so good that anything he said at this point was hypnotic.
âYes, yes, Bucky, please! You both can take turns using me!â
âNasty little slut,â Bucky hissed, his teeth biting gently at your skin again. âFuck. Iâm getting close.â
You nodded hard again, your knees nearly giving out if it werenât for his big hands holding you back. âMeâme too, shitâ!â
Buckyâs grip on your body tightened, pulling you close against his bare and sweaty chest.
After three hard thrusts that bottomed out against your womb, he let out a deep grunt against your neck, his body going stiff as he finally came.
His cock pulsed as cum began to spill out of his tip, pumping you full of his seed and staying completely stuffed inside you until you were filled to the brim. Your head tossed back as a cry left your throat, your overworked pussy clamping down on him and pulsing in a way that milked every last drop out of him.
He held you tight, breathing deep into your back as you both fought for air. âFuckâyouâre draining my balls dry, sweetheart.â
You both started to laughâdeep, tired, and rumbling laughs at everything that had just transpired out in the open, right in your very driveway.
Bucky looked down, pulling out slightly and watching with blown out pupils as his cum trickled out of you and onto the concrete, where it mixed with the soapy water.
âDirty, dirty girl.â
You spent the following afternoon in your room, going through lectures, though you were hardly paying attention to them. With your cheek resting on your palm, your eyes kept drifting to the open window that gave you a perfect, convenient view of the house right across the street.
Buckyâs house.
The driveway was empty, and the lights inside were off. The blinds were pulled open though, and you could see Alpineâthe little cat he mentionedâloafing on the windowsill and staring back at you.
In that moment, the two of you were exactly the same.
Just waiting for Bucky to come home.
The silence of your bedroom was overtaken by the rumble of a truck engine. Sitting up and peeking out the window, you recognized Steveâs battered pickup truck turning into the driveway before the engine cut out.
Steve climbed out of the driverâs seat, looking as exhausted as ever, but he had still shown up for you.
You smiled, racing down the stairs to meet him outside. In the driveway, it was clear that his shift at Hydraâs mechanic shop had done a number on him. His navy blue collared shirt was stained with sweat and motor oil, with dark streaks smeared across his jaw and down the length of his thick forearms.
âSteve,â you breathed with a smile. âThought you forgot about me.â
Steve shut the door, the truck shaking from the force. âCould never forget about you. Work was just running me late.â He reached for his tools in the flatbed with a tired groan. âHowâs your car holding up? Been using it since we had lunch yesterday?â
Your face warmed at the question.
Using it wouldnât be the right term for it, you thought.
âNot really,â you said, trying to hide the bashful expression on your face.
âStill making that weird creaking noise?â he asked, walking over to the front and popping the hood.
You bit your lip and nodded. âYep.â
Steve stood over the engine, glancing at wires and mechanical parts that were completely foreign to you.
âHowâs it looking?â you asked, hovering over his shoulder.
He didnât look back as he lifted a straining wire with his pointer finger, examining it closely. âLooks like sheâs been through it.â
You had to bite back a snort. You wouldâve complimented him on his sense of humorâif only he had known any better.
âThanks for doing this, Steve,â you said, giving him a pat on his sweaty back. âMy dadâs going to be real grateful.â
Steve nodded. âHow are you and that neighbor doing?â He still kept his focus on the wires, his voice casual and unassuming. âYou two didnât screw each other after my warning yesterday, right?â
You were so glad he was focused on the engineâthe face you made wouldâve given it all away.
âWhat kind of girl do you think I am?â you scoffed playfully, crossing your arms defensively.
Steve glanced up at you with a chuckle. âA good one, I hope.â He brought his tools to the edge of the car, rummaging through the kit. âYou two exchanged numbers yet?â
âDo I have to?â you shrugged. âHe lives right across the street.â
Steve tilted his head, agreeing. âYou make a good point.â He looked back at the engine. âWhen are you going to introduce me to the guy?â
You leaned against the car with a roll of your eyes. âSteve, youâre sounding an awful lot like my dad. And why are you in such a rush to meet him, anyway?â
Steve shrugged, pulling a wire stripper out of his toolbox before setting it back down on the ground. âIâm your best friend, alright? Itâd give any man peace of mind to know what kind of person youâre talking to. Hand me a wrench, would you?â
Crouching, you dug into his toolbox until you found something that resembled a wrench. You handed it to him.
âThanks,â he mumbled, taking the tool from your hand. His brows furrowed as he wrestled with a stubborn bolt, the muscles in his forearms and biceps flexed hard, giving you an up close and personal view of a working man.
After the filthy things Bucky hissed in your ear yesterday, you couldnât help but stare. Bet heâd ask to join in, wouldnât he? Would you let him? Even worse was the memory of what you cried out in response. You both can take turns using me!
You wanted to slap yourself for the secondhand embarrassment you were giving yourself.
You wouldnât consider itâno, you couldnât. Steve was the person you grew up with, the one who fended off your bullies in kindergarten. Steve was the one who drove you to school every morning in high school. Steve was the one who took you to prom when no one else did.
Steve was family.
But as he stood there, covered in motor oil and sweat, you finally understood why a man like Bucky would be jealous over you hanging out with a man like Steve Rogers.
The wrench slipped, clattering against the frame of the car before hitting the driveway with a noise that made you flinch.
âShit,â he cursed under his breath. He bent down to pick it up. He stood up straightâreminding you all over again of just how big he was compared to youâand wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
While you were having filthy thoughts about your best friend, he was standing there in an increasingly sour mood. Between the long shift at Hydraâs and the oppressive heat of the bright afternoon sun, he looked completely spent.
You didnât know the first thing about wire strippers or engine blocks, and you felt useless just hovering over his shoulder.
âIâm going to go make you a lemonade,â you said, giving his shoulder another supportive pat. âIâll be back, okay?â
Steve didnât say anything. He just gave a single, firm nod to let you know he heard you.
As you retreated inside, a car that Steve didnât recognize pulled up to Buckyâs driveway.
It was a sleek, black convertible sports car. Steve couldnât help but clench his jaw at the sight of it. Of course Bucky drove a sports car.
He stood no chance against his rundown pickup.
Bucky stepped out of the vehicle, running a hand through his hair. As he turned to glance at your driveway, expecting to see you, his blue eyes landed on Steve instead.
For all that talk about wanting to meet him, Steve really only cared to do it if you were there, bridging the gap. So for now, until you returned with his lemonadeâwhich he was sure would make Bucky jealousâSteve tried to keep himself too occupied to notice him.
But he kept catching movement in his peripheral vision. Then another. Then another. A stupid, persistent movement that wouldnât go away, like a goddamn fly.
Steve finally lifted his head and saw Bucky still in his driveway, waving.
Waving?
At what?
Steve turned around, expecting to see you standing right behind him with the lemonade, but you werenât. The porch remained emptyâmeaning Bucky was waving at him.
âNeed any help there?â Bucky called out from across the street, resting his hands on his hips.
Steve pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. âIâm good!â he called back. Short, straight to the point, and friendly enough.
He looked back down at the engine, but it didnât take long before a bright spark jumped from the terminal with a loud popping sound. Steve jolted back with a hiss, snapping his hand away from the burn. âShit!â
Across the street, Bucky was already making his way over with a smug grin that Steve caughtâand one he especially wanted to wipe off.
Jesus. Where were you?
âHere,â Bucky finally reached him, occupying the small space between the carâs engine and where Steve was standing. âLet me help you with that.â
Before Steve could fight for his spot, Bucky was leaning over the hood, adjusting the wires in a way that made Steveâthe man wearing an actual mechanicâs uniformâfeel like a fool.
Steve stepped up to the hood, propping his arm against it as he looked the man over. âSo, youâre the new neighbor that moved in not too long ago, right?â He already knew the answer, but this was at least him trying for short conversation.
Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes slowly tracing over his uniform. Steve felt his eyebrow twitch.
Was Bucky silently insulting him?
âYup,â Bucky drawled with the pop of the p. âAnd you must be my pretty neighborâs best friend. The one she always talks about.â
It was getting harder by the second for Steve to go along with this. Bucky acted like the very frat boys at Jensen that Steve had warned you to avoid at all costsâand this man was in his mid-thirties, for crying out loud.
âYeah. Thatâs me,â Steve mumbled.
Bucky stood up straight, extending his hand for a shake. âBucky.â
Steve was wary, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the offered hand before finally reaching out to take it.
âSteve,â he replied with a firm grip.
Bucky stared at Steve for a moment longerâas if studying himâbefore looking back down at the engine with a huff of laughter. âYou know, for a guy who works at a mechanic shop, youâre struggling pretty bad with a simple alternator issue.â He bent over the engine again, examining it. âAre you trying to actually fix the car, or just trying to impress your lady friend?â
Steve let out a dry laugh as he pulled a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands. âItâs been a long day, alright? Iâve been dealing with different cars all day, the sun is giving me a headache, and now Iâve got my best friendâs neighbor to worry aboutââ
He stopped himself before he could spill too much, but Bucky caught it anyway. He chuckled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he looked up at Steve from where he was bent over. âYouâre worrying about me?â
Steve swallowed hard, trying to play it off. âI mean, Iâm just looking out for her. New guy in the neighborhood, itâs just a habit.â
Bucky hummed, a small, knowing grin resting on his lips as he turned back to the engine block.
He leaned further under the hood of the old sixties station wagon, his fingers moving towards the distributor cap and the fraying ignition wire Steve had been struggling with. Bucky repositioned the stubborn ceramic boot, adjusting the distributor to ensure the connection wouldnât spark again.
He wiped his hands on his thighs as he stood up straight.
âSince itâs an older model, youâre going to need to buy a specific point and condenser set for a sixties Ford wagon. But this should hold her over for now.â Bucky looked over at Steve. âYou got a piece of paper so I can write down the part number you need?â
Steve blinked, surprised and undeniably impressed by how easily Bucky had handled it.
âOh. Y-yeah, hold onââ He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a small, worn notepad and a pen, handing them over.
Bucky took them, resting the pad against the carâs fender as he scribbled down the specifications. Steve glanced up, watching you through the kitchen window where you were completely oblivious, still focused on making the lemonade.
Surprisingly, he actually liked the guy. Despite the age difference, he could see potential in Bucky. He was handsome, owned his own house, drove a nice car, and was clearly respectful and handy. He was exactly the type of man your parents wouldnât pass out at the sight of.
He was a good man for youâregrettably so.
Bucky finished writing, flipping the notepad shut and handing it back to Steve along with the pen. âHere you go.â
Steve smiled, and this time it was polite and genuine.
âThanks,â he muttered. âIt was nice meeting you, Bucky.â He held up the notepad with a slight nod. âSheâll appreciate this. Iâll tell her you said hi.â
Buckyâs smile widened just slightly. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your silhouette through the kitchen window where you were still occupied with the lemons. His gaze lingered on you for a split second before he looked back at Steve, his expression unreadable.
âDonât mention it,â Bucky said smoothly, giving Steve a reassuring pat on the shoulder. âRemember, Iâm right across the street if you ever need help.â
He gave a parting nod before turning on his heel, brushing past Steve to head back to his side of the street.
Steve watched Bucky disappear past his front door. By the time the door clicked shut, you had finally stepped out onto the porch with two glasses of lemonade in your hands. Perfect timing.
âSorry I took so long,â you said breathlessly, walking down the steps and handing him a glass. âItâs been a minute since I last made it from scratch, soâŠâ
âYou just missed him.â
You raised a brow in confusion. âSorry?â
Steve brought the cold glass to his lips, taking a long sip of the tart drink before nodding towards the house across the road.
âBucky.â He let out a satisfied exhale, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. âHe was just hereâhelping me with your car, actually.â
Your eyes went wide, your head snapping towards Buckyâs houseâthough he was nowhere to be found. You reached up, trying to smooth down your hair.
âHe was? Is he coming back?â You asked, sounding too excited for your own good.
Steve shrugged, taking another sip. âProbably not. Seemed like he had other things to do.â
You looked at Steve, your eyes narrowing skeptically.
Steve caught your look and let out a soft laugh, adjusting the cold glass against his palm. âWhat?â
âSoâŠâ you teased, swaying back and forth subtly. âI assume you two talked for a bit then? How was he? What do you think of him?â
Steve shrugged again, a genuine smile breaking through the tired expression he had on before. âAlright, alright. You know what? Heâs not a bad guy. He actually helped me fix your car. I like him.â He handed you back the empty glass, flipping through the crumpled pages to find the note Bucky had left. âHe even told me what part we needed to order to get this thing fixed up and working againââ
He froze in the middle of his sentence. His eyes went wide, staring at the page as his words got lost in his mind.
You raised a brow, confused with Steveâs sudden change in demeanor. âWell? What part is it? Is it expensive?â
When he didnât answer, you took it upon yourself to step closer and peek your head over his arm to look at the notepad. What you saw made your breath hitch, and your own eyes went wide.
There was no part number.
Written in bold handwriting, on the paper was a phone number, Buckyâs phone number, followed by a little message in black ink.
youâre gonna have to call me if you want that part number.
xoxo, buck.
Your jaw hung so loose, a fly couldâve flown in at any moment. Steve didnât know what to say eitherâif anything, he was standing there frozen, waiting for you to say something first.
âOh my god,â was all that managed to leave your mouth. You looked up at Steve, your wide eyes meeting his. âIs BuckyâŠ?â
Steve, poor Steve, who remained completely oblivious to the fact that you and Bucky had fucked just yesterday on this very driveway, only felt confusion and secondhand guilt.
He glanced across the street at the sleek, clean Mazda resting in Bucky's driveway, specifically staring at the custom vanity license plate on the back that read âBIGBUCK.â
Steve swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing with a rosy shade of pink. Though, he could easily excuse it for the sun.
âOf course,â he mumbled to himself. âHe drives a Miata.â
if you were curious to know why a mazda miata specifically, you can thank r/askgaybros for that when i was conducting my research.
if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!
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