#bucktober

A late Saturday night. The wind whistled just outside with an eerie tonality. It was quiet, relaxing, despite the spine-chilling sounds that the television produced. A bright, flashing light illuminated the space, the TV giving your skin a soft glow in the dim living room.

No one vacated the Avengers' compound besides you, Bucky, and Steve. Being newer to the team meant training relentlessly—a couple of uninterrupted weeks of working your ass off to prove yourself. And, of course, the two Avengers were assigned to instruct you, along with a few others, but they were long gone on the weekends.

The weekends meant everything to you; it was a cause for rest that your body craved. It was also an excuse to get close to the two whom you'd considered your friends. Though you knew them long before your introduction into the team, it was still nice to get alone time with them once in a while. They were happy to indulge you during your break because of how hard you worked early in the week.

You were sprawled on the couch across the two like a lap dog. Your head was a gentle weight on Bucky's thigh as your legs draped over Steve's knees—your favorite position.

It was your idea to watch a movie together. You suggested Scream, one, because Halloween was right around the corner, and two, because you hadn't watched it in some time.

Bucky and Steve knew better than to argue with you about your pick, so they shut their mouths. They grabbed a bucket of buttery popcorn and plopped down on the sofa like a pair of loyal companions. Snuggling up to you with a navy blanket, they cloaked you with their warmth.

Calloused fingers danced in your hair as you watched the movie. Bucky was keen on playing with your hair; it gave him solace. He was nervous about touching you before, when he was still shedding the Winter Soldier from his fragmented form. But now, he couldn't keep his hands off you, even if he tried.

Some days, it was his arm just lightly grazing yours or his head resting on your shoulder. But others—the harder days—his touch was firmer.

Like when he would come up from behind you and wrap his strong arms around your middle or his metal hand gripping your upper thigh—that would inevitably lead to a heat pooling in your lower stomach. You didn't dare comment on that, though.

You also found comfort in his touch, as well as Steve's. His warm hands had found your feet under the blanket, gently massaging them. His thumbs dug into the heel of your foot, clearing the tension from your muscles.

It was the part of the film where Billy and Stu revealed themselves as the killer, one of your favorite scenes. The intense buildup all leading to this satisfying betrayal.

Billy was licking off the fake blood from his fingers, causing your thighs to squeeze together. It was such a simple action, but the way he was looking at Sidney as he did it was a surprising turn on.

You bit your lip to hide the smile spreading across your face. This was supposed to perturb you with how sick the two men were, but it had the complete opposite effect.

"Whatcha doin', darlin'?" Bucky's voice came, raspy and laced with a teasing lilt. Almost as if he had uncovered a secret, and he wasn't hesitant to spill it to anyone who might listen.

Your head jerked upward, locking eyes with him. He had a Cheshire smile plastered on his face. That damn smirk, you thought.

"What's that lip doin' between your teeth?" he added, flesh hand drifting down to free it with his pointer finger. His touch lingered, dragging it slowly over your bite-swollen bottom lip before pulling away.

Steve turned, glancing down at you with a just as wide grin. "Huh, I think she's turned on, Buck?" He pinched your thigh, eliciting a squeak from your lips.

You swallowed hard, heart racing. They caught you red-handed, and there was no way out of this one. "I-I-" you stuttered, not quite knowing what to say.

"Oh, definitely. She can't even defend herself," Bucky agreed.

Your embarrassment faded, turning to a sharp anger clawing at your rib cage. You balled your hand into a fist, lightly punching Bucky in the gut.

He feigned a pained grunt. "Hey, he's the one who said it," He exclaimed, pointing at the blonde beside him.

You wiggled your foot from Steve's grasp, hitting him weakly in the stomach. "You're both assholes," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest like a spoiled child.

Steve snorted, squeezing your knee. "Sorry, pretty girl. Didn't mean to make you mad. It's just-" he cut himself off, tilting his head thoughtfully.

You leaned forward slightly. "It's what?"

He shrugged, "I didn't realize you were into that. The, y'know," he gestured to the television, "dark thing."

You rolled your eyes, embarrassment creeping back in. "Can we just watch the damn movie?" you grumbled, gaze focusing back on the screen.

You saw Steve shake his head out of the corner of your eye. "It's not a jab, just an observation."

You ignored him, nuzzling your head back into Bucky's thigh and watching the way Billy and Stu crowded themselves around Sidney. That feeling in your stomach resurfaced as you imagined yourself in the woman's place.

Steve sighed, but dropped the subject altogether. Bucky's hand was back in your hair, but this time it felt less like it was for himself and more to soothe you. The rest of the night was uneventful as you finished out the movie in the super soldier's laps.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next morning came and went in a flash; the dark of the night seeping into your walls once more. You hadn't seen either of your other temporary housemates. It was strange. You contemplated whether you had scared them off with the revelation of your darker side.

It wasn't like you were on your knees begging for it; it was just some fantasy that lay dormant in your skull. It was never about the men on screen, but the idea—a man chasing you in light of his hunger for you. However, the film expanded on that idea, turning one man into two. And having two bodies under you as they touched your figure made your head spin with too many ideas. So, really, it was their fault.

But now you were waiting in the kitchen, a fork pushing around food gone cold. The prongs poked at the mashed potatoes on your porcelain plate.

You were independent. You didn't need someone around all the time, but at the same time, you hated the feeling of being alone. It crept into your very bones and settled into you like a form of deterioration. So, the empty compound felt like an echoing chasm, so still, you could hear a pin drop.

As if on cue, you heard a noise from downstairs—a loud crash, like two symbols coming together. You stood from your seat, the legs of the chair screeching against the floor tiles, and wobbling before correcting itself. "Hello?" You shouted. "Steve? Bucky? Is that you?"

No answer, just a tapping followed by a long scrape. You shivered; you really shouldn't have suggested that movie if you're this on edge. You stalked forward, your bare feet padding through the kitchen like you're playing a game of "the floor is lava".

You peeked around the corner, checking the downward flight of stairs. You took each step one at a time. The metal whined with every motion of your tiptoes, like it was greeting whomever was the other occupant in the facility. Almost as if the stairs themselves were saying, she's trying to be quiet, but she's doing a shitty job.

Once you reached the bottom, your head swiveled this way and that, but there was no one in sight. You shrugged to yourself, turning. Maybe you were crazy after all, hearing things that weren't actually there. You made your way back upstairs, head lowered, so you wouldn't miss a step and fall on your ass.

Then, you glanced up only for a split second. Your heart dropped into your stomach. A dark, cloaked form was hovering over the stairs. And the fucking cherry on top of the sundae, they were wearing the same mask you saw last night on the flickering screen—the Ghostface mask.

Your eyes widened in horror, your hand gripping the railing so tightly that you thought the metal might snap. Before you could even fully process, your feet were moving again. You skipped several steps, descending them like a cheetah. You honestly couldn't believe your speed. You instantly heard the sound of heavy boots hitting each step with a force. As if you thought you couldn't get any quicker, you picked up your pace.

You whipped around the corner, heading straight for the door, when you stopped dead in your tracks—a second form, veiled in midnight, and the same white, contrasting mask. You glanced down, rapidly spotting the silver gleam in this one's hand. A knife, black handled and pointed steel, shining from the outside bulb. Was this a sick joke, or were you getting murdered tonight? It was as if all your training flew out the window, and you stood there in shock.

A scream escaped you, sharp and loud. It split through the calm of the night like a bullet. Booming footsteps came from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, spotting the first Ghostface now standing with a wide stance and tilted head. You were surrounded. Your chest heaved, but not just from the exertion of your short race, but from this utterly fucked situation you found yourself in.

You darted to the side, changing your strategy and running towards the only other exit. You heard rather than saw the two of them follow after you. You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to lose all the distance you gained.

You could hear their breathing from behind you, but it wasn't as heavy as yours. It was steady and measured, as if the chase didn't faze them. You made it to the door, jiggling the handle. Your first couple of attempts were unsuccessful as the door wouldn't open. Your shaking hands were your own personal hell as your sweat-slick palms slipped from the knob repeatedly. You eventually found purchase, swinging it open. You couldn't help but spare a single glance back. The two dark figures were slow in their approach, as if they were taunting you, making it seem like they were going easy on you.

Your stomach churned, but it almost felt like a blaze in the pit of your stomach. Were you really aroused at a time like this? Holy shit, you're pathetic.

You pushed the sensation down, venturing past the precipice of the doorway and into the chill of the air. The wind whoshed past your ears as your legs pushed off the ground, bare feet getting muddied along the way.

You felt like you had been running for ages, with the way your lungs burned. You couldn't keep doing this; you needed to come up with a new plan. The gears in your mind turned, finally settling on hiding as your best course of action. You just had to find a safe place to lie low for now until you could retrieve your phone from your back pocket and call for help.

You didn't bother peeking over your shoulder to see if they followed you; you ran into the dense forest for a quick hiding place. Low-hanging branches and greenery brushed your uncovered legs as you ran. A few dug into your clear skin like jagged claws. You, no doubt, had scrapes and scars wrapped around your calves like a miniature dog had mauled you.

You eventually spotted a bush and rushed towards it. You crouched low, crawling on your knees and elbows into the underbrush. It enveloped you like a hug, twigs getting twisted in your hair as the bigger branches poked your flesh.

You took a few steadying breaths before pulling out your phone. The brightness of the screen highlighted your face, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the white light. You debated calling the police, but only for a second, as the pair of super soldiers popped into the forefront of your mind like a flashing sign.

You scrolled through your contacts, pressing the first person on your list and hitting that green phone as if it were your lifeline. The call rang quietly on your end. Then, louder in the woods. What?

You heard a rustling before it blared louder. "Oh, Stevie," a too-familiar voice came, but it sounded darker in this context. "Look who's calling me."

A deep chuckle came from your left. "Cute, she needs help," the blonde answered. His voice rose, trying to get your attention. "I'm a little offended you didn't call me, sweet girl."

Your breathing slowed, not just because of the well-needed break from extending your legs, but from the realization. "Steve? Bucky? What the fuck. You scared the shit out of me," you admitted. You slithered out of your temporary hiding spot, brushing the dirt from your flesh and pulling some loose twigs from your hair.

You scoffed, "You're both assholes, you know that?" You glanced around the wooded area, trying to seek them out now that the ruse was up.

Bucky snorted, leaves crinkling under a set of boots that sounded closer and closer with every step. "You said as much last night," he mumbled. "Or did you forget about yesterday? Turned on by the mere thought of someone chasing you. Dirty, dirty girl."

You swallowed, the embarrassment heating your cheeks. "What?" you asked, but it came out smaller than you intended. "I thought we dropped that?"

You heard two roaring laughs fill the space. It echoed around you, their voices doubling and tripling like waves rippling on the sand. "You think we'd drop that delicious information?" Steve clicked his tongue, "You are sadly mistaken."

Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. You wrapped your arms around your middle to bring back some warmth into your shivering body. Your skin dotted with goosebumps from the icy air like a brand. "Well, I'm cold, so I'm heading back inside. You two can freeze your asses off for all I care," you murmured angrily, cautiously trudging through the forest once more.

In a blink, one of the cloaked figures was in front of you. You ceased your movements as the other stepped out from behind him, like a reflection. You couldn't tell which one was which; it was irrelevant at this point.

"Run," Bucky's voice dipped into something terrifying. It set you on edge, but strangely made that fire in your core ignite.

"I'm not playing your fucked up game anymore," you glared into the pitted eye sockets of their masks like four tiny black holes sucking you in.

"I don't think Buck stuttered," Steve growled, low and insistent. "Run. And when we catch you…" He trailed off, looking to his match.

"We fuck you," Bucky finished, and you could hear the grin even under his covering.

Your breath caught in your throat, a quick sound escaping as a tightness filled your chest. The fire in your gut felt like a raging inferno, consuming your insides like a forest fire. You had never seen this side of them before; your usually calm friends were penetrating your very being with their voices alone, like a large drill boring into you.

You don't know why, but you immediately obeyed, knowing their tones left no room for argument. Your feet carried you swiftly back into the woods, feet slipping from the muddy ground. They chased right after you, the sound of boots bouncing clear across the wooded section.

Your heart thumped against your chest, but not from fear, but…excitement. You were living a fantasy that was only ever constructed in your mind, like a spinning film reel. You sprinted with a newfound purpose, the adrenaline propelling you. They gained on you rapidly. Of course, they were super soldiers and clearly weren't using all of their abilities to catch you.

You ducked under a particularly large branch, jerking your head left and right for a place to conceal yourself, but to no avail. Their boots trudged behind you like a thumping bass to a creepy song.

"Tired yet, sweet girl?" Steve called, voice barely worn. "Better save some energy for us. We're gonna be a handful."

Your stomach flipped as you surged forward. You almost stopped, the desire making your blood run hot in your veins. Instead, you took a sharp turn toward a towering, wide tree and came to a halt in front of it. You knew it was a bad idea, but you decided to go along with it anyway.

You planted your bare foot onto the rough bark while you swung your arm up to grasp a thicker branch. You hauled yourself up with all the strength you could muster without the leverage of shoes. Your other arm came up to wrap around it, pulling yourself further up.

Leaves crunching announced the pair's arrival, boots slowing to a stop. "Oh, darlin'. You gotta be smarter than that," Bucky mused.

His words went in one ear and out the other as you continued your pursuit. One foot slipped from its position, causing you to slide down slightly, pieces of bark chipping off like old paint. "Careful, wouldn't want to hurt yourself. We'll be doing plenty of that ourselves. Leave you absolutely wrecked, sweetheart," Steve warned you cheekily.

You dug the ball of your foot into a branch, lifting yourself like you couldn't even hear either of them. You didn't even glance down to acknowledge their presence, just ascended higher.

"Enough of this," Bucky muttered, footsteps marching onward. You felt cool metal fingers wrap around your ankle and gave a hard yank. You gasped, palms getting cut up from your descent. You scrambled, trying to regain your balance, but his touch remained firm.

"Bucky," you screeched, "Quit. You're hurting me." Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued to tug, fingers digging into your ankle as if to show you he could do much worse. He jerked on your leg, causing your opposite foot to slip from its spot and plummet.

You fell into his arms, bridal style, with short, intakes of breath. You pushed and shoved at his shoulders, but he didn't budge. Instead, he threw you to the ground with a forceful thud, sticks splintering beneath you. "'M done waitin'," Bucky snapped, hovering over you. Steve came into view next to him, and you knew the game was officially over.

Still, you fought. You rolled over onto your stomach, elbows pressing into the dirt as you crept away. This time, a warm hand found your calf, pulling you back and turning you over. "You don't listen, do you?" Steve inquired, but it didn't seem like he was waiting for an answer. "Game over. You lost. Now, we claim our prize."

He kneeled, his strong hand pinning your arms above your head while the other removed the mask. He leaned forward, and now you saw the hunger sparkling in his wild eyes. You squirmed, but it was useless. You didn't want to leave anyway; the way he was gazing down at you was too tempting to resist him anymore.

"Squirm all you like. 'S not gonna change what's gonna happen to you." His fingers traced along your jaw until he cupped it firmly. "Open wide."

You hesitated, which wasn't the correct response because he squeezed, forcing it slightly agape. You parted your lips, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he cooed before promptly spitting into your mouth. You were briefly stunned, but he pulled you right back to reality as he spoke, "Swallow f' me."

You did as he asked, letting his saliva slide down your throat, and he hummed in approval. "Givin' you a sample before all you can taste is me, huh? You won't be able to wash me from your mouth once 'm done with you."

You felt a set of hands—metal and flesh—gliding up your legs to part them, settling between your thighs. Fingers danced on your flesh, inching closer to your throbbing pussy. Two digits skimmed across the seam of your shorts, making your hips jerk upward at the sensation it sent to your clit through the thin fabric.

"So wet," Bucky commented darkly. "Someone is either really turned on by gettin' chased or by the thought of us destroyin' you."

Letting impatience cloud his judgement, he hooked his fingers into your shorts and tugged them down the length of your legs. He tossed them somewhere in the grass without remorse. He lowered himself, removing the mask, along with the cloak, to gawk at the panties you were sporting—pink and lacy. They could almost be perceived as innocent if not for the wet spot dampening the material. "Picked such a pretty pair f' me, huh, darlin'?" He stated cockily, his eyes darkening.

Bucky breathed deeply, inhaling your scent as his nose appeared to be inches away from your cunt. His tongue darted out, licking his lips with a hum. Steve gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to the blonde. "You gonna let him taste you, pretty baby?"

You nodded, though you knew you didn't truly have a choice; he was just giving you an illusion of having one. "Such an obedient little slut. My little slut," Steve murmured against your lips before capturing them in a heated kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, softly moaning at the brush of his lips.

His mouth was persistent, demanding access to yours. He nipped at your bottom lip, dragging a gasp from your throat. He took the opportunity to shove his tongue through the gap between your lips. Tongue prodding into all the crevices of the cave of your mouth.

You heard a shing, then something with a cold bite gliding across your inner thigh. Your initial thought was Bucky's metal finger, trailing down your flesh, but it had a serrated edge. Your eyes shot open, but Steve was holding you in place.

Steve's hand drifted to the back of your neck, craning it back to deepen the kiss. You melted back into the kiss, letting your worries dissolve. However, that didn't last long.

Piercing pain to your soft, supple skin. Roger's lips muffled your screams, and you squirmed once more. "Shh," Bucky soothed, dragging the blade down as his other hand gently massaged your thigh in a strangely comforting manner. "Just wanna make sure you know who you belong to."

The knife clattered to the ground, your blood seeping over the slit he created with the blade. His mouth was on you in an instant, lathering you in his saliva as he cleaned your wound. His mouth left you, but not before placing a tender kiss on the injured area.

Icy fingers pulled your blush panties to the side, hot breath fanning across your slick folds. Bucky flattened his tongue, licking a broad stripe through your wetness. You whined into Steve's mouth, but he swallowed your sounds with another sweep of his tongue.

Bucky lifted your leg, hooking it over his shoulder. He pressed your other thigh to the ground, keeping you spread for him. "Tastes so sweet. Could get addicted to this sweet pussy," he rasped, diving in for another taste. The tip of his tongue swirled around your sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth. You arched your back, hips wiggling from the pleasure he was giving you.

Steve pulled away, his teeth biting your bottom lip and tugging gently before freeing it. Your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as you glanced down at the man feasting upon you like a wild animal—a lion devouring a pure, feeble fawn. His feral eyes locked on you, looking up through his lashes as his tongue dipped, teasing your tight hole.

You let out a strained whimper, the pleasure coiling in your gut like a spring ready to release with a pop. Steve sat back on his haunches, releasing you from his grasp in the process. He shed the black cloak, leaving it to float to the ground like a deflated ghost. His nimble fingers fiddled with his belt, metal clanking as he extracted the leather from its buckle. You jerked your head, watching the action intently.

His hardened cock sprang forth as he yanked the denim and boxers down his hips. Your jaw dropped; what the fuck were you supposed to do with that monster? Your pussy clenched at the sight, squeezing Bucky's tongue that was jabbing into you.

"Gimme your hand, sweet thing. Be a good girl and stroke it, alright?" Steve coaxed, taking your outstretched hand. He brought it to his dick, wrapping your delicate digits around his girth. He moved your hand for you at first, giving himself the perfect grip with your fingers. Precum leaked from the aching tip, glistening slightly even in the dark of the night.

Steve's knuckles grazed over the apple of your cheek, grinning down at you. "There you go. Doin' so good," he praised, dropping his hand to his side to sit back and enjoy the show. You pumped him at a leisurely pace at first, admiring the way he felt in your palm.

Bucky groaned against your cunt, vibrations rippling through your body. You moaned, his tongue working you closer to the edge with every sensual suck, swirl, and lick. You stroked Steve quicker in response, forcing a low grunt from his lips.

Bucky's tongue lashed between your folds like a weapon, flicking it over your clit before diving back down to lap at your juices. You writhed beneath him, his unabating tongue sending sparks across your flesh.

"Buck," you whined desperately. Still, your fist continued to move along Steve's shaft in harsh strokes.

"I know, darlin'. Let me get you there," he mumbled around his working tongue. He pushed the tip back into your weeping pussy, practically fucking you with it.

Steve inclined forward, reaching down. His fingers advanced to your swollen clit, rubbing slow, precise circles into it. You keened, hips canting upward as the pleasure became overwhelming.

Without much more effort, the damn broke, pleasure washing over you in waves as you came on Bucky's unyielding tongue. Hips bucked, and your free hand dug into the grass below, ripping out the green threads.

Still, neither of them ceased their pleasing actions. You were wailing, hand falling away from Steve's cock, flicking back towards his lower stomach with a gentle slap. You tried and failed to push at Bucky's shoulder and Steve's forearm, but they didn't give in.

"Please," you begged, "too much."

"Oh, Pretty girl. 'M afraid you don't know what that's like yet," Steve growled with a saccharine smirk. His hand shifted off your overstimulated clit to grab your throat. Not to restrain, but to hold you there against the forest floor.

"Now, open. I'll show you what too much is," he demanded. You obeyed, your mouth wide as erotic noises were ripped from your throat.

Steve patted your cheek in acclamation before he gripped the base of his dick and brought the tip to your parted lips. He eased into your mouth and down your throat. His tip bumped the back of your throat, making you wrap your lips around him as you choked on the length of him.

Spit sputtered around your lips, and still he kept going until your nose pressed against his skin. You gagged around him, tears pricking your eyes like a reminder of what they were doing to you.

"Such a perfect throat," he groaned, squeezing your neck for a moment before going back to the same pressure as before. "Ooh, I can feel myself in there."

His hips pulled back and then thrust forward again. "Gonna fuck this pretty throat until you've memorized the feel of it, baby," Steve added while his hips jerked onward.

You were still high on your orgasm, another one building as Bucky mouthed at your cunt. Now, your head was reeling from both sensations the super soldiers were giving you.

Your nails dug into the flesh of Steve's thigh while he fucked your mouth senseless. Your other hand searched for something to grab to ground yourself. Bucky's metal hand found yours, and he squeezed it before gingerly resting your interlocked hands on your torso.

"I've got you, darlin'," Bucky's rough voice came, planting a kiss on your bundle of nerves, and then going back to work.

It wasn't long before you were moaning around Steve's cock, another orgasm threatening to wrack through you. A muffled animalistic noise escaped you as you fell over the edge for a second time. Two back-to-back climaxes brought your body to a shuddering mess.

Steve withdrew his dick so that you could breathe through your release. After drawing your orgasm a little longer, Barnes' mouth finally relented.

Your eyelids closed automatically, utterly exhausted just from two intense releases. Steve leaned down, pressing a few kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and the tip of your nose. Bucky trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses to your limp form until they both were hovering above you.

"You doin' alright, sweetheart?" Steve asked, tone laced with concern. You nodded weakly, not quite ready to open your eyes.

"Poor thing," Bucky remarked, knuckles brushing over your heated cheeks. Without further deliberation, he picked you up from the ground, standing up with your head resting against his shoulder.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby." He nudged your thigh lightly, coaxing. You did as you were told, loosely enveloping his waist while you folded your arms over his neck. "There ya go. Gonna get you inside."

He pressed a kiss to your hairline, arm firmly covering your back as his other palm cupped your ass. He carried you into the compound, Steve hot on his heels.

In a blink, you were in Bucky's bedroom, hiking your legs up, so he didn't crush them as he lay down. You gazed up at him, a small smile spreading across your lips.

"There she is," he whispered, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Ready for more, or do you need a longer break? We'll wait as long as you need."

He glanced at the end of the bed where Steve had undressed himself. The bed dipped under his weight as he waited for your answer, analyzing you for any sign of wanting to back out.

"I'm ready," you confirmed, pushing up on Bucky's chest, adjusting to straddle his hips.

Your dripping cunt lingered over the strain in his jeans. You dragged your slick folds over the seam along the denim, and you shivered while he grunted, fingers grabbing at your hips. You fidgeted with the button, pushing it through the slit of his pants.

Steve scooted in behind you, palms greedily gripping your waist as his mouth attacked your neck. You shifted, tugging at Bucky's denim-clad thighs, but they wouldn't budge. Steve chuckled against your skin, "Let me help with that."

He took over, grasping at the material and pulling it down his legs until his friend's cock was freed. An angry, red-tipped dick taunted you—the length, the girth. If you thought you wouldn't be able to handle Steve's before, you certainly weren't able to take this one.

"Fuck," you mumbled lowly.

"Look how hard you got him, just from getting you off," Steve observed, seizing Bucky's cock with a rough pump of his fist. Bucky moaned, head falling back against the sheets. Steve's other palm came back to your torso, holding you steady as he lined up Barnes' tip with your entrance.

The pair forced you unhurriedly down his length. You whined as he stretched you out with every delicious inch. Bucky spoke through his clenched teeth, "So fuckin' tight, shit-"

You sank further onto his dick, reaching behind you to cup the side of Steve's face as your other hand stayed as a support on Bucky's toned chest. You tilted your head, and the blonde's mouth was on yours in an instant, devouring any of your sounds. The kiss was all tongues lashing and teeth nipping.

The super soldier below you bottomed out, leaving you whimpering against Steve's lips. You broke the kiss to focus on Bucky again. Your hips rose, then you slammed down on him. He let out a sharp curse, gaze focused on you as you began to ride him. You bounced up and down on his cock as Steve's hands wandered up your figure, taking the shirt with him.

"That's a good girl. Ride him nice and slow, just like that," Steve encouraged, slipping you out of your top.

You were entirely bare for both of them, tits on full display. Bucky's eyes went hooded, looking lost—lost in you and in his desire. "Fuckin' gorgeous." He promptly released your hip to cup your breast, squeezing delicately as his thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple.

"Prettiest girl I've ever seen," Steve muttered into the crook of your neck, massaging your other breast with extra care.

"Come 'ere," Bucky lured you in with his voice alone. You lowered yourself while he craned his neck to suck one of your peaked nipples into his mouth. You gasped, his tongue swirling and teeth lightly biting.

Steve's dick pressed against the swell of your ass. He squeezed and gripped your cheeks, most likely leaving an indent. When you glanced over your shoulder, he was lining himself up with your ass, tip nudging your second hole.

Your breath hitched, "Steve, I can't-"

The blonde swiftly cut you off, "S'alright, sweet thing. I'll be gentle, promise." He planted a kiss on the line of your spine to comfort you. His hips twitched forward, pushing into you with a deep groan. Your nails dug into Bucky's chest, creating little crescent moon shapes as you cried out.

Barnes' arm wrapped around you, hauling you into his chest. You laid down flat, cheek squished against his peck as Steve's cock penetrated you. Bucky rubbed soothing circles into your back as you adjusted to both of them. "Shh, I said I got you, baby," he reassured once more.

"So full," you whined.

"Oh, but you're takin' us so well," Steve commented with a snap of his hips. You screeched, your body trembling from the new sensation.

Bucky's heels dug into the mattress, rocking his hips up into you. You bit your lip so hard that blood dribbled down your chin. Your face contorted in pleasure as Steve thrusted from behind, an iron grip on your hips as he lost control.

They worked in tandem; one driving deep into your pussy as the other pulled out slightly, then vice versa. If you were overwhelmed by their actions before, you didn't know what you were now. Utterly cock drunk, full, and slipping into a cloud of ecstasy.

The next second, they picked up their pace, thrusting into you without any real rhythm. You were a moaning, whimpering mess as you felt the actual weight of the double penetration.

"Please," you pleaded again, but you weren't exactly sure what for. You didn't want them to stop, but the way they were filling you, it felt like the thin wall between them might break you.

Steve's hands were dragging down your sides, coaxing and gentle. "You're doin' so good, just stay like that."

"Feels so fucking good," you wailed, burying your face in Bucky's chest.

"There you go, give in to it, darlin'. Bein' such a good girl, letting us destroy you like this," Bucky praised, hips stuttering slightly. "You're ruined for everyone else, aren't you?"

You nodded against his firm muscles, trying not to fall over the edge too soon. You were getting used to the feeling, loving how they felt sliding against one another, with only a thin barrier between them. There was absolutely no other way you wanted to be fucked.

"Breathe, sweetheart. Almost there," Steve said, squeezing the globes of your ass and spreading you further.

You tried to calm yourself; inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. It was too damn difficult with the way their cocks prodded into your tightening holes.

Bucky shifted you slightly, and with the new position, he bumped your sweet spot repeatedly. You crooned, cunt clenching around him like a vice.

"Ooh, I felt that. You close, pretty girl?" Steve asked, but he really didn't need the answer, given how your body quivered.

Steve's hand wedged between you and Bucky's body, searching for your sensitive bud, hoping to make you fall apart onto both of their cocks. His fingers rubbed at your clit with a violent force. Your form jerked, back arching into Steve.

"Fuck, darlin'. That's it. Come all over our cocks. Make it messy. Wanna see you come apart on my cock," Bucky rambled, hands framing your face as he brushed the hairs from your eyes. He stared at you with every inch of his attention, intent on watching your climax unfold.

It didn't take long before your pussy fluttered around Bucky, asshole clenching right along with it. You came with a broken sob, tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

Your vision went white; you swore you saw stars in the height of your orgasm. Your eyes fluttered closed, your head feeling heavier in Bucky's palms. "Fuck," he grunted, voice strained from the tight hold you had on him. "So beautiful when you come."

Your body nearly convulsed as they continued to fuck you through it. Their cocks almost twitched in unison as they moaned loudly; nothing but sounds of pleasure and skin slapping together filled the room.

Bucky lifted his hips, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you. Then it was Steve's turn to jam his dick as far as it could go, it pulsing inside you as hot ropes of cum filled you from both angles.

You fell onto Bucky's chest, your whole body sighing from exhaustion. You felt impossibly full, your combined releases dripping down your inner thigh and creating one giant mess.

You felt sticky and worn, your head spinning from the experience. But at the same time, you felt utterly content.

Steve pulled out of you with a hiss, steadying himself against the edge of the mattress. The other super soldier didn't make any move to rid himself of you. Instead, his arms draped across you like a blanket.

"Did so good f' us, darlin'," Bucky mumbled, tucking your head under his chin.

The bed creeked as Steve's form left the two of you before returning with a wet rag. You shivered as he wiped down the places that were slick with mess.

You hummed, nuzzling your cheek into Bucky like a cat, cuddling into her owner. "Thanks, Stevie," you acknowledged weakly.

He chuckled in return, "My pleasure, sweetheart." After he threw the cloth in its designated hamper, he crawled back into the bed beside the two of you.

"Gonna move you, okay?" Bucky mentioned before lifting you effortlessly off his length with a sharp intake of breath. He drew you into his side, placing you between the blonde and himself. Your face squashed into Bucky's peck like your own personal pillow as Steve curled behind you, resting his arm over your waist.

"Super soldier sandwich," you murmured softly, already drifting off to sleep.

They laughed at your tired-out state. "That's right, baby," Steve whispered, kissing the shell of your ear. The space was filled with a quiet as the three of you settled against each other.

After a few silent minutes, Bucky spoke up, "That's not the last time that's happening, just so y'know, darlin'."

You groaned lowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Bucky let out a satisfied sigh, planting a lingering kiss on your forehead before letting you rest.

You couldn't even think right now, let alone think about another round in any capacity. But it felt nice to revel in the company of the men on either side of you. You snorted to yourself; fuck, Scream just became your new favorite movie.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Main Masterlist

The bar door closes behind you with a thud that feels louder than it should. Night air rushes at your face, scraping against the heat still clinging to your skin. You walk faster than necessary like you could outpace your own pulse.

“Y/N! Wait.” His voice cuts through the night air. You don’t stop. Heels clicking hard against the pavement as he follows you.

“Hey. Hold up a second.”

You whirl around taking a sharp breath. “What do you want from me, Bucky?”

For a moment he looks the same as he did years ago. Always caught off guard when your sharp to him, almost like he expects you to be gentle with him. 

His jaw flexes when your eyes meet. “Because I wanted to talk to you. To explain.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Explain what? That disappearing act you perfected? Or maybe the part where you couldn’t even look back at me when it ended?”

Bucky swallows and flicks his eyes from your face to the ground then back again. “I didn’t know how to stay. I was—” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I’m back for good.”

The words dig at the irritating old wound you’ve tried to bury. You shake your head and bite back the sting. “Eight years too late, Barnes.”

He flinches at the name but doesn’t retreat. “I know,” he whispers. “I know I don’t get to ask for anything. But seeing you tonight, hearing you talk about your show tomorrow, it just…” He trails off with a shake of his head. “It reminded me of everything I ruined.”

You cross your arms to shield yourself from the emotions surrounding the air. “You didn’t even try. You just left.”

“Yeah,” he remembers. “And I’ve regretted it every damn day since.”

You laugh once, humorless. “Don’t start with that.”

“I’m not starting,” his voice trembling at the edges. “I’m trying to tell you the truth for once. You think I didn’t want to reach out? You think I didn’t see you everywhere? You were inescapable, Y/N. Your voice, your songs, every interview. I couldn’t get away from you. And part of me didn’t want to.”

Your chest tightens. “You made it pretty clear you did back then.”

He steps closer, carefully as if he's afraid you might bolt at one wrong move. “I was scared. That’s the truth. You were…hell, you’ve always been more than I knew what to do with. You wanted everything and I was too small to give it to you. So I left before I could ruin it all.”

“You still did,” you admit. “You ruined it anyway.”

His eyes close briefly as your words land exactly where they’re supposed to. “I know.” When he opens them again, they hold something raw. No smirk or charm shown. Just regret. “But I can’t let another eight years go by without saying something. Without you knowing that I—” He stops as his jaw locks and his breath comes out shaky. “That I’m sorry. That I still care. That I never stopped.”

You shake your head and your voice breaks before you can control it. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to,” he says. “Because if I walk away again, I don’t come back from it this time.”

The silence between you feels endless. The city blurs around you. Everything muted by the sound of two hearts beating out of rhythm. His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but won’t. 

Finally, you exhale, voice barely audible. “You should go.”

He doesn’t move right away. Just looks at you like he’s trying to memorize you as if this might be the last time he gets to. “Good luck tomorrow. You’re gonna be incredible.”

You nod once, swallowing the lump in your throat before turning away before he can see your tears.

He doesn’t continue to follow you but you feel his gaze burning into your back until you vanish around the block. 

You were fifteen when you realized you’d never look at Bucky Barnes the way you looked at anyone else.

He was leaning against the chain link fence after baseball practice. The afternoon sun caught in his hair as the sweat darkened the collar of his shirt. His laugh carried across the field as a few girls hovered close with all bright smiles and nervous giggles. He knew exactly what he was doing and so did you.

You stood a few paces back by the concession stand, clutching your book to your chest like it would steady you. From there you could see the curve of his grin and the way his hand brushed the back of his neck when he laughed too hard using his effortless charm that pulled everyone toward him. He held that kind of gravity. The kind that made people feel lucky just to be caught in it.

You weren’t sure when it happened. When looking at him stopped feeling like friendship and started feeling like an endless free fall as it pressed down undeniably on your chest. You felt that smile of his in your ribs like it belonged to you somehow, even though it never did.

A shadow crossed your face as it blocked the sunlight. “You’re staring,” Steve muttered softly beside you.

Your heart jumped. “I’m not,” you replied quickly, gaze darting to the ground.

“You are.” He tilted his head to study you with that older brother instinct he never seemed to turn off. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”

You wanted to deny it, to laugh it off but your throat was too tight for words. So you just shrugged and stared at the cracks in the pavement. Trying your best to not think about how obvious you must look.

Steve sighed quietly. “He doesn’t see it. Not yet. But that doesn’t mean you’re invisible.”

Invisible. The word stung because it felt so true.

You risked one more glance toward the field and that’s when you caught it. Bucky’s head turned while he laughed softly and his eyes flickered to you. It wasn’t long. Just a heartbeat but it was enough to make your pulse quicken. His gaze lingered but you could read it like you normally could. One of the girls tugged on his arm and he broke away with that easy grin. 

You smiled faintly to pretend that moment hadn’t meant anything. Like your heart wasn’t still thudding from just one glance. 

When Bucky jogged off with someone else’s hand tucked into his, you exhaled quietly. Steve said something meant to comfort you but his voice faded into the background of the sun lit field.

You smiled at him anyway as if you hadn’t been here a hundred times before. 

Always waiting. Always hoping. 

Bucky has weaved his way back into your head. No matter how many times you try to shake him loose. He’s there threading through your thoughts like a song you can’t stop humming.

Your mind is now a revolving door of all the memories you’ve created together. The ones you’ve replayed, dissected and overthought so many times you could recite them frame by frame. His laugh echoing down your block. The summer nights crammed on Steve’s couch for sleepovers. The first time he taught you how to balance on his bike while he ran alongside. All the little pieces you’ve tucked away come flooding back now, uninvited and sharp enough to bruise.

By the time you reach your apartment, the concert is a faint thought at the edge of your mind. Your upcoming world tour is nothing more than a footnote. None of it matters right now. Nothing compares to the ghost of his eyes on you or the way your chest aches like you’re seventeen again, teetering on the edge of something you were never brave enough to name back then.

You kick off your shoes by the door and let your purse fall to the floor. The quietness feels too heavy and loud. You move through your apartment on autopilot as you get ready for bed. You keep seeing him outside the bar and the way he said he wanted to try with you again. You tell yourself you don’t believe him. That people like Bucky Barnes don’t get to rewrite history but your pulse betrays you every time you replay it.

You pull the bedroom curtains halfway closed and sink onto the edge of your bed and rest your head in your hands. It’s useless. He’s everywhere now. In the static of your thoughts and in the echo of your name from his mouth. You scroll through your old texts, surprised you never deleted the thread. You aren’t even sure he has the same number but you still write out a text then delete it. You almost wish you’d yelled at him more. Said something cruel enough to stick.

But you didn’t. You never do.

You were seventeen when everything nearly tipped.

It was summer. One of those long Brooklyn evenings where the air smelled of grilled corn and fireworks were set off even weeks before the Fourth of July. You and Bucky sat shoulder to shoulder on the stoop of your house. You passed a bottle of soda back and forth, the glass slick with condensation. His knee brushed yours carelessly that sent sparks up your spine each time. Even though he didn’t seem to notice. You, on the other hand, were cataloging every inch of space between you. Every brush and every accidental touch.

Steve had gone inside hours ago saying he was too tired to keep up with the two of you. That left you alone with Bucky. As the night grew on, your chest felt tighter with the weight of everything you hadn’t said.

He leaned back on his hands with that crooked grin like the world bent to him without effort. “So, get this,” he started with gleaming eyes. “At Coney Island today? Some girl just slipped her number into my pocket. Didn’t even say two words to her.”

You forced a smile as you twisted the soda cap in your hands until your palms ached. “Guess you’re just irresistible.”

His grin widened as his gaze shifted to something almost playful. “What, you saying you’d fall for me too?”

Your laugh tumbled out too quickly. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.” But your cheeks betrayed you, burning hot under the streetlight’s glow. You could feel it all. The weight of his stare, heavier than anything you’d ever carried. 

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to that look. To the space between you and to his hand inching closer along the concrete until it nearly touched yours. You swore you could feel the warmth of his skin radiating almost magnetic and terrifying all at once.

And then he pulled back. The moment shattered like it wasn’t real. He stood and stretched, shoving his hands into his pockets with a forced ease that stung more than silence.

“You’re funny,” he said with a smirk but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The silence that followed was louder than anything. You stared at the soda cap in your hand and dug it into your palm to ground yourself as your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

That was how it always was with him. Moments that almost became everything before they collapsed into nothing.

The box waits for you on the top shelf of your closet. You know exactly where it is. Knowing all along, even after years of pretending you’d forgotten. It’s been tucked between old sweaters and forgotten lyric notebooks, patiently waiting for a night like this. When the past starts whispering too loud to ignore.

You reach for it slowly. The cardboard is soft at the corners having worn from years of being moved but never opened. You carry it to your bed like it’s something fragile.

You sit cross legged and stare at it for a long moment. You swallow hard as your thumb traces the edge of the lid before you finally lift it.

Inside the years collapse away.

The first thing you see is a movie ticket, creased and nearly faded. A double feature from a theater in Brooklyn. You can still picture the three of you that day. Steve tossing popcorn at Bucky and Bucky pretending not to cry at the ending of the second film while you laughed so hard your ribs ached. The memory plays in your mind like it’s still happening.

Next, you pull out a dried flower. Brittle and brown at the edges but still holding faint traces of color. You remember that night. Your first show, just you, a mic and a guitar in a cramped bar that smelled like stale beer. Bucky had shown up late. Still sweaty from running straight from practice but holding a bouquet that looked stolen from Mrs. Barnes’ garden. 

“You deserve something nice to celebrate,” he’d smirked, even as dirt clung to the stems. You’d pretended to be annoyed but you kept one flower and pressed it flat between the pages of your notebook. It’s that same one now, faded but whole.

You set it aside gently and pull out a folded postcard from a summer vacation he went on with his family in Italy back in high school. The edges are soft from years of being handled. His handwriting sprawls across the back in uneven lines. He was never patient enough to write neatly. “You’d love it here,” it reads. “The music, the colors. Everything feels alive. I’ll bring you next time.” The ink smudged where your thumb rested too long over his name.

There’s a matchbook from The Lantern. A tiny brick bar in the Village where you used to play open mics before anyone cared about your name. The gold lettering has mostly rubbed off but you remember that night clearly. The first time Bucky called you a star. He’d said it with a wide grin but his eyes were serious. You didn’t know then that years later, you’d look back and realize he meant it.

At the very bottom, folded so carefully it almost feels deliberate, is a letter.

Your breath catches. You recognize the paper instantly. You wrote it the night before he left for Los Angeles. You remember sitting on your bed as the words spilled faster than you could think. Everything you never had the courage to tell him. You folded it neatly and meant to give it to him but you couldn’t. He was already halfway gone, even before the plane took off.

You’ve never opened it since. You don’t have to. The words are still carved into your memory. Every line, every confession and every stupid, hopeful thing you never said out loud.

Your throat tightens as you close your eyes and press the paper to your chest. The tears come fast, hot and silent. For years, you told yourself you were fine. That you’d moved on. That what you felt back then was just youth and timing and misread signals. But sitting here now surrounded by the fragments of a life you built with and without him, you realize you were lying.

You never really let him go.

The ache never went away. It just buried itself deeper waiting for nights like this to rise back up.

You set the letter back in the box with trembling fingers. You shouldn’t have opened it. You know that. But before you close the lid, something else catches your eye.

It’s a polaroid.

You lift it carefully. You and Bucky outside The Lantern. The neon sign blurs behind you and he’s got his arm draped over your shoulders as both of you smile like you don’t have a clue what’s coming. You can almost smell the rain from that night and hear the sound of your laughter tangled with his as the rush of the city carries it away.

You trace his face with your thumb. That night was a lifetime ago but it still feels close enough to touch.

The memory pulls you under before you can stop it.

“You killed it,” Bucky exclaims as he walks backward ahead of you. “Seriously, Y/N, that last song—”

“Don’t,” Your cheeks warm from the compliment. “You’ll make me blush.”

“Good.” His smile softened. “You deserve it.” You felt it as he said those words. 

He reached out suddenly and took the guitar case from your hand. “Let me.”

“It’s fine,” you protested but he just shook his head.

“Your hands do the magic. Can’t risk you carrying heavy things.” You laughed but the sound caught in your throat when you saw the look in his eyes.

Nothing new, not really but it held something different. You’d known Bucky your whole life but in that moment he looked at you like you were someone he was just meeting for the first time. It almost had you wonder if this was what all those other girls he’d flirt with had felt. It made you nervous but hopeful. 

“You really think I was good?” you asked quietly.

He nodded. “I think you’re meant for it. All of it. Stages, lights, people singing your words back to you. I think one day everyone’s gonna know your name and I’ll be the idiot saying I knew you when you still got stage fright.”

Your chest ached. “You’ve always believed in me more than myself.”

He tilted his head slightly with a gentle smile. “Yeah, well…someone has to.” 

You aren’t sure who moved first but suddenly the space between was smaller. Close enough to see the little freckles that dusted his nose and the flecks of electric blue in his eyes. The air between you felt thick, almost hard to breathe properly. 

You could feel his breath on your face and your pulse in your throat. And for one suspended second, it all felt inevitable. Like the universe had been building to this moment all along.

Then he blinked and stepped back, not before you caught his eyes sliding to your lips for a split second. “Come on,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Let’s get you home.”

You walked in silence after that. You tried to keep your attention ahead on the streetlights or counting the cracks in the sidewalk. Anything to keep you from reaching out to Bucky and beg him to admit he felt the same thing. That it’s not all just in your head. You’re tired of pretending not to feel the way your heart collided in that moment then quietly torn apart again.

You try to sleep that night but your body refuses to rest. After all this time, after all the miles and years and heartbreak, you and Bucky are breathing the same air again.

You flip your pillow to chase the cool side. You close your eyes but it doesn’t matter. He’s there anyway. In every thought. Every memory. Every what if you swore you buried long ago.

You see the way his smile used to tilt so carelessly and easily. The way his voice dipped when he said your name. You remember the warmth of his hand brushing yours. The quiet between you that always felt like it was about to become something more.

And you hate it.

You hate the way he can still do this to you. The way he stirs up everything you’ve tried to silence. The resentment, the longing and the ache that lives deep within your heart. He doesn’t have the right to take up this much space in your mind. He doesn’t get to haunt you like this. Not after everything.

But he does.

Because no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise, the truth lies steady in your heart. You’ve missed him in ways you never allowed yourself to admit. In the quiet mornings. In the spaces between tour stops. In the songs you never finished because they felt too much for him.

You turn onto your side and stare at the faint city light spilling across your wall. It feels like the kind of night you used to share. When neither of you could sleep and you’d end up talking about everything and nothing until the sun crept in.

A thought flickers so sharply in your mind.

If you had chosen differently all those years ago, would he still be here? Would any of it have been different?

The question settles heavily in your chest without an answer. When sleep finally comes, it doesn’t feel like rest.

It feels like falling all over again.

part three | part four

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