#ssb2021

“I thought you wanted to cut your hair?” Steve calls, cutting his eyes towards the rotting tree stump as Bucky sheds out of his pants.

Steve tosses his eyes back in time to catch Bucky shrug before he steps into the cool water, hissing soft at the abrupt temperature change, “I’m not rushing,” Steve answers quick, “It’s just… we can’t go around looking like Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes anymore.”

“America’s golden boy and his unstable, untrustworthy, can’t be rehabilitated, murder buddy, you mean?”

Steve places a hand on his hip, eyes furrowing as he watches Bucky float aimlessly in the water, blinking slow towards the sky, “That’s not who you are, Buck.”

“That’s exactly who I am,” Bucky bites back, cutting his eyes back to Steve, “No matter how bad you want to, you can’t—” Bucky’s words stick in his throat when Steve turns away abruptly, then holds up his hand to silence him, “What is it?”

Steve turns his head slightly, listening. Bucky stands, pushing the water off of his head as he runs his hands over his hair, “What is it?”

Steve takes a breath, something sweet— perfume— filling his nose, “Someone’s here.”

“How many?”

“Just one,” Steve mumbles, his breaths getting deeper as the smell intensifies, “But it’s not—”

“How far?”

“A couple of miles, maybe three or four,” he reaches out, catching Bucky by the arm as he rushes by, “Buck, wait.”

“I can take one guy, Steve. I just don’t want to do it naked.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s not someone from the Government.”

Bucky huffs, clenching his jaw as he stares at Steve, “HYDRA then?”

All Steve can do is shake his head, “HYDRA doesn’t wear perfume.”

~~~

You squint as you drive slow, pinching the handwritten directions between your fingers and the steering wheel. The paperweight you call an iphone lost its wifi connection hours ago, and then actually died several miles back, so it’s just you, a sheet of paper with half ass instructions scribbled on it, and your car venturing down a gravel, overgrown road. You’ve lost count how many times you’ve literally prayed to every God you know that you don’t get a flat— because, you know, that happens to stupid girls like you that just take off without telling a soul you’re leaving.

The radio fades in and out as you go, more static than music. Quick eyes dart around from side to side, finding nothing more than the lush of trees and grass and a few pops of color from random wildflowers. A frazzled mind screams at you. This is crazy, you’re crazy… but you dull the voice and just grip the wheel harder. You blink, cutting your eyes to the passenger seat, the deed to your new home staring back at you.

You tear your eyes away, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you press numb fingers into your temple and rest your elbow on the door. Funerals always made you queasy, no matter whose it was. This one happened to be for a long lost aunt, who you knew nothing about but she somehow knew a lot about you. Her love for you, a child she never laid eyes on physically, shown through every word she wrote in her will.

To my beloved niece. I leave the oldest, most precious heirloom in our history. The very house where our lineage began some two hundred years ago. Take care of it, thrive in it, let it inspire you. For you are more than you’ll ever know. Aunt Bea.

For you are more than you’ll ever know

Tears sting the backs of your eyes just having the words flit around in your brain again. With the backs of your fingers, you rub your lips trying to fight the urge to cry. The gravel road and trees in front of you go blurry as you tighten your hand on the wheel. You just need to get there. Maybe fix it up a bit, make it yours, start a garden. Become one with nature… because you honestly can’t handle having life run you over anymore and you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired all the time.

If you ever needed a reset button, it’s now and this house is it.

There’s a slight turn in the road. You take it slowly and then, just like it was dropped out of the sky, there it is. Home.

Long, green vines slither up the sides, the grass and wildflowers probably as high as your hip.  An old, weathered rocking chair sits in the corner of the porch, a small flower pot with a long dead plant right next to the door. The roof a little lopsided, weighed down underneath an overgrown tree, and two of the three steps leading to the porch look to be rotted, but a smile covers your face anyway as you stare out of the windshield.

There’s a bond between you and this old house already. A strength is here, a warmth— the air even smells sweeter as you exit your little Volvo. Generation after generation of your family have walked in this grass, worked this land, and now it’s all yours. Even though you don’t know these people, a need to make them proud fills your chest.

You grab your suitcase and move to the front porch, barely navigating the rotten steps before your high heel gets stuck in a hole in one of the boards. Who needs four inch heels out in the woods anyway. The boards on the porch creek and squeak as you move towards the front door, more of them needing to be replaced than not.

One, two, three jams of your hip against the door later, and you’re finally inside. Stagnant dust fills the air from all of the new movement, but you breathe a sigh of relief. The inside is definitely in better shape than the outside. White sheets cover the furniture, and beneath a layer of dust is brand new wood flooring. The kitchen has a new sink, and a relatively in shape refrigerator. A toaster still in the box sits atop the granite countertop.

Great uncle Ernest was busy when this was all his.

You run your fingers over the countertop as you move towards the back door just off to the right of the refrigerator. As you pull it open, the top hinge gives, separating from the rotting door frame, sending rusted nails and the hinge itself to the floor. A loud thud sounds through the house when the bottom of the door slams against the floor, leaving you to jump back and shout, clutching your chest all the while.

“Fuck!”

Alright, so great uncle Earnest didn’t get as far in with the renovations as he’d planned. Nothing you can’t handle.

You push through the screen door (where most of the screen is missing) and find yourself on an uneven, boards missing back porch. With a hop, skip, and a jump for fear of falling straight through, you’re standing in the backyard, pulling off your pumps so you can feel the dirt and grass. You blink slow, hands on your hips, staring back at your fixer upper, the reality of it all starting to swirl.

It’s gonna take a lot— money, time, effort— to get this place livable after sitting vacant for almost five years. You’re also no handyman. How the fuck do you replace a door? Where do you get a door? Does Amazon even deliver this far out?

Heavy hands fall to your sides as you let out a huff. Don’t start, you chide yourself, you wanted a sign and you got one. Take that shit and quit complaining.

Plus, it’s Amazon. They deliver everywhere.

The rush of water starts to fill your ears, fading in as you start to pay attention to the chirps of birds and buzzes of little insects. Bare, manicured feet start stepping through the wild, tall grass, black French tipped fingers brushing it off to the side as you pass through.

Low hanging branches scrape along your head, old apples from a ripening, unattended apple tree litter the ground as you step into damp dirt. Whatever thoughts you had mere moments before, fuck off back into the depths of your brain as your eyes settle on the rushing stream just a few feet away. The water is clear, rippling and burbling, little green and blue fish swimming along.

The earth fills your nose, the grass, the dirt, the water— you’ll learn how to fish. You’ll learn how to install a door, and how to rip up old slats, and replace broken windows.

Because you’re supposed to be here.

~~~

Two sets of blue eyes peer through leaves and broken branches, Bucky standing behind Steve as they gaze.

“You seen her out here before?”

Steve shakes his head soft, eyes trailing down your frame as you stand at the water's edge, “No. I didn’t even know there was a house down this far,” He blinks again, “It’s hidden,” the words hesitate, “By um, by all the trees.”

Bucky slides his eyes to the back of Steve’s head before moving up beside him. He inhales deep, pulling in the sweet rose scent of your perfume, the soft undertones of vanilla and… strawberry? Maybe a concoction of body wash and body butter. It’s enticing, sending him right back to 1943. Dorothy… Dolores… Dot… smelled just like you. Hell, he can still hear that cute little giggle, feel those soft tits pressed right up against his chest as his big hands hugged those hips while she danced.

He knows Steve smells it too— if not more of you. Steve can probably hear your heart beating. Maybe smell the lingering traces of a man; cologne, aftershave, or just the musk of him.

Bucky cuts his eyes towards Steve again and just knows Steve can smell your pretty, sweet little cunt. Smell your slick— can practically taste it on the tip of his tongue. Smell the smallest bit of perspiration on your skin as the sun beats down on you out here. Hear you swallow behind those plump, mauve colored lips.

It’s moments like these that make Bucky jealous. He’d take Steve’s perfected serum over his clipped poison any day.

Then his mind really goes, but that’s nothing new for Bucky. Once a flirt, always a flirt— no matter how much HYDRA is in him. The soft, thick meat of your hips in his calloused hands. Pathetic whimpers stuffing his ears. Nipples hard and piqued as he prods at them. That mouth, God that pretty mouth stretched wide around his cock, tears leaking down your cheeks as you slurp him up.

“Don’t start,” a quick clap on the back brings Bucky back, “Come on, Buck.”

Bucky watches Steve turn and take a few steps before he glances back across the stream, blinking at you as you swish your hand back and forth in the water. Knees drawn into your chest, head lolled just to the side, eyes sad and lost.

His cock twitches in his pants.

Steve’s hushed voice breaks through the rushing water and the rustling leaves again, and Bucky tears his eyes away, turning on his heel, “I’m comin, alright? Stow the mom voice.”

“We have to stay to ourselves if this is gonna work.”

“Did I say anything?” Bucky answers quick.

Steve chuckles, pushing a wild branch out of his way as they walk side by side, “You didn’t have to. I saw how you were looking at her.”

“Yeah well,” Bucky starts, eyes darting back and forth as his mind moves back to you, “She’s gonna need help fixing that place up,” he shrugs a few seconds later, feeling Steve’s eyes on the side of his face, “She is, you saw the roof— that back porch.”

“Bucky—”

“I know she smelled good, Steve. What I could get was incredible, so I know you got every last little sublime detail.”

Steve’s eyes drift, the greens of the grass and leaves, the blue of the sky, the white of the sun rays all blur together as Bucky’s words fade. You’re sweet. Delicate. Soft and ripe— ready for anything, anyone to just take you away. Mark you. Own you.

He blinks.

Blinks again.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, scoffing as a smirk lingers on his lips, “You never did like to share, asshole.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It’s been a long time for Steve. Too many days to count, which turned into months, turned to years. He was good at ignoring it at first. Took him years to not let all the sounds, the smells, the visuals overwhelm him— going from barely able to see his own hand in front of his face to correctly identifying a semi-familiar face three hundred feet away in a crowd was… a lot. But he dealt with it over time. The sights, the sounds…

Every now and again though, a smell will get him. Make him weak in the knees. Keep him up at night— and he’ll probably be doing a lot of that tonight. Staying up, that is. Trying not to jerk his cock to the lingering smell of you. To smooth brown skin and plump lips. Long, manicured fingers. Gentle, round eyes. Steve licks his dry lips and tastes the salt on your skin— the little bead of sweat that slipped down your neck and into your cleavage.

“She looks young,” Steve murmurs, clearing his throat.

Bucky rolls his eyes, lips curling into a knowing smile, “Uh huh.”

“She does,” Steve counters quick, “She probably doesn’t even know who we are,” Bucky opens his mouth but Steve cuts him off, “Like, not old enough to remember us.”

Bucky drops his head back, widening his eyes, “Are you stupid? Or are you dumb? You broke me out of a federal prison six months ago, you’d have to be living under a rock to not—”

Steve whips around suddenly, eyes scanning the brush as he gets a whiff of roses and strawberries. Bucky follows suit, perking up as water splashes, leaves crunching with hurried footsteps. Out of habit, he clenches his fists, rolling his shoulders as the silver metal plates on his arm shift.

There’s muffled cursing, a quick squeal and then within the blink of an eye, you’re stumbling out in front of them, wiping at your forehead roughly as you try to find your footing.

“Oh,” you gasp, stopping short when you find two pairs of eyes trained stiffly on you, “Oh, uh, hi,” you smile bright, but quick, the gesture leaving your face as the two men shift their eyes towards each other before returning their gazes to you, “Um, sorry, I heard voices. I, uh,”

“Hi,” Bucky pipes up, offering a soft smile, “I’m Bucky, this is Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes, his lips parting before they purse as he stares over at the Winter idiot. It’s amazing, really. Six hours ago, Bucky was hurling knives at Steve’s face and reminding him that he is his mission. Put a pretty girl in front of him, he’s a goddamn teddy bear.

You push out a breath, the smile returning to your face, “Hi Bucky, Steve. This is probably really strange,” you laugh, “But um, do you think you could help me? Really quick?” you turn slightly, pointing your thumb over your shoulder, “My backdoor kind of, uh, fell off. Could one of you help me lift it back into place?”

Steve’s mouth opens, fully intent on having words come out of it but all he can do is blink— and then snap his lips closed again. Bucky cuts his eyes towards him. Seventy years and two hundred pounds of FDA approved American meat later, and he still can’t talk to women.

“Sure thing,” a smile nearly splits Bucky’s face in two, “Lead the way.”

You keep your hands wrangled within one another, right thumb pressed into your left palm, rubbing gently as you walk ahead of these two strange men. If your mother could only see you now— inviting two strangers right to your back door. Two strange men that you found walking randomly in the woods. They make slasher films that start out just like this. Dumbass.

But it’s too late now, as you’ve begun to cross the stream— in your heels, cuz, you know, you completely thought this through— and your modest shithole of a cabin in view. You step cautiously into the water, placing one foot slowly in front of the other, hands held out to your sides to balance yourself, but of course—

“Shit!”

You stumble, life flashing before your eyes as you start to fall sideways. Before you have a chance to hit the water, there’s a silver hand on your hip, and then another wrapped around your right bicep, keeping you upright and dry.

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Bucky says, holding you still for a second, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”

With a quick glance over your shoulder and a nervous smile, you nod, “Yeah, th-thanks. This probably wasn’t the best choice of shoes.”

“No… probably not,” he chuckles, “Let me help you across.”

That big hand stays on your hip, the other sliding down your arm before it too lands a little higher up of your waist. You have to clear your throat and blink multiple times to try and focus on getting across the water and not on his firm, yet incredibly gentle grip. His metal fingers flex just a little, tightening, digging just a bit into your skin and hip, before they relax. When you get to the bank, his flesh hand caresses your elbow, holding it gently as he extends his arm to help you up into the grass.

A warmth spreads through your arm and down your body as you walk through the grass. On top of quitting your job and breaking your lease on a whim, you also have not been touched by a man in… let’s not get into that, okay? you gripe at yourself, we’ll work on that later.

“So, umm, yeah,” laughing nervously, you point towards the door, which has now completely fallen off the second and third hinges and laying flat on the floor, “Fuck, it wasn’t like that when I came out here. It was… fuck.”

Steve steps past you and moves just inside the door, eyes on the frame. He reaches up and runs his hand down the rotted wood, his red plaid button down lifting with the motion— exposing a sliver of skin. You instantly take a breath, a slow, deep one before dragging your bottom lip between your teeth. Eager eyes find a smattering of hair, just under his belly button as he reaches higher, shirt creeping up even further as he murmurs more to himself than anyone else.

“Wood’s rotted, so it won’t stay for long, but we can put it up for you for the night at least,” he says after a few moments, his eyes still moving up and down the side jamb, “If you don’t mind us ripping up your back porch, that is.”

You snap your eyes up to his, your brain playing catch up with the words, “Oh, um, why… exactly do you have to rip up the porch?”

“We can take a plank or two from the deck,” Bucky starts, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little, testing the old wood as he eyes it, “and nail ‘em into the rotted piece. Then screw the door into that until you can replace the whole thing.”

You nod, smiling again, “Sure, thanks. I’m planning on redoing the deck anyway. Do you need—” before you can get the words out, Bucky bends, grabbing the end of a random plank with his metal arm. With one swift yank, nails are flying, plopping in the grass as he rips it up and hands it to Steve, “ — a hammer?”

He winks at you, and your stupid stomach flutters, “I got it, honey.”

It’s been too long. The mere sentiments honey and sweetheart have you shaking. Touch starved and praise deprived. What a combo.

“I could use the hammer though,” Steve says, offering a smile, “Or a drill.”

“Right, yeah,” mumbling as you turn on your heel, “One sec.”

After rifling through a few drawers and a supply closet, you find a dead drill but also a pack of batteries, so you hand them over and lean against the fridge to watch. Fingertips prod at your bottom lip slowly as the two men get to work, Bucky deciding to rip a chunk of the rotted wood of the door jamb with his flesh hand this time. The sight makes you take another breath. It’s just so… yeah.

The two of them bicker, playfully, each thinking they know something more about installing a door than the other. Bucky makes another trip to the deck to rip up another board, breaking the damn thing over his knee like it’s a spaghetti noodle to get it to the size Steve needs. Your eyes start to drift again, finding more sun tanned skin as they reach and stretch and bend. Bucky’s tank top leaves little to the imagination— his deltoids and biceps flexing with each little movement.

Veins in Steve’s mammoth hands push up hard against his skin as he drills a repurposed board into the door frame. The arm of his shirt rides up, exposing a forearm covered in dark blonde hair. There you find another vein, prodding against his skin, creeping up his arm.

He’s flushed a little, Steve, his skin fairer than Bucky’s. You can see the red blooming across the top of his chest, across his collar bones, moving up his neck where it disappears into the thick beard on his chin and cheeks— it looks so soft. His beard. Your fingers start to itch, just wanting to feel it.

Bucky’s is lighter. More than stubble, but not a full grown creature just yet. It highlights his sharp jawline and chin; his lips. A little chapped, but pink and full for a man.

“Okay,” Steve huffs, the puff of air pushing his long hair out of his face, “That should do it. It’ll hold until you can get the whole jamb replaced.”

You push away from the fridge, hands and fingers intertwined because their mere presence makes you stupid, “Thank you so much. I wish I had something to offer you, like food or… something, for your help.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” Steve smiles, running his hand through his hair, “Well, we better—”

“Are you out here all by yourself?” Bucky cuts in, glancing around the kitchen before taking a few more steps inside.

“Yes. I just inherited this place from my great aunt.”

“She passed?” you nod, “Sorry to hear that,” the soft in Bucky’s voice sends a ripple up your spine, “So, you’re gonna renovate this place by yourself? That’s a lot of work by the looks of it.”

You laugh, “Don’t remind me. But, uh, yeah, I’m gonna tackle it all by myself, unless Amazon can deliver a handyman and an electrician.”

“I don’t know about all that,” he chuckles, “but Steve and I can help— if you want, that is. We’re not doing much these days.”

Both you and Steve stare at him like he’s suddenly sprouted another head, “Oh no, no, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that. There’s so much to do and I’m sure you two have more important things to do than help me.”

With a shrug and a smirk, Bucky answers simply, “We don’t,” he turns his head, smiles wide at Steve, “Right bud?”

Bud. Steve could fucking kill him, “Right. It’d be our pleasure.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Bucky says, reaching out as he passes by you, letting his fingertips lightly brush along your forearm, “You can make us dinner when we’re finished.”

Bucky winks at you again and it takes every ounce of strength to stay on your feet. You open your mouth to speak, but kinda like Steve when you stumbled out in front of them, you can’t seem to find any words.

“We’ll be by tomorrow, okay? We’ll take you into town, get some supplies. But if you need us before then, we’re just a couple miles down the road— just follow the bend,” they both step out onto the back porch with you stopping just at the door, “Or you and those heels of yours can venture across the stream again. It’s a straight shot from there.”

You offer a weak smile and lift your hand as they move across the backyard, “Thank you.”

Bucky tosses another smile over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow, sugar.”

Sugar.

God, you’re in trouble.

~~~

Steve rolls over hard, slams his head back into the pillow as he pushes out a hot breath. Tired eyes blink slow up at the ceiling, focusing on nothing at all as his mind wanders. The air is still, the heat still suffocating even in the dead of night. The fan spins slow. The wispy, old curtains covering his open window shift with a random, soft breeze. Crickets chirp. Water ripples in the distance, an animal moves through the sun dried leaves.

He blinks again and there you are, right in front of his eyes. You’ve got to be the sweetest little thing to cross his path in what feels like forever. The shampoo and body butter weren’t enough to drown out the smell of you. Heady. Thick. So feminine. His eyelids get heavy, slip closed as he lifts his hips from the mattress, adjusting a bit, having to take a deep breath.

Steve licks his lips again as thoughts of his hands grazing over your naked thighs, squeezing gently as your teeth dig into your bottom lip fill his head. The pads of his fingers find that little wet spot on your silk panties, tease your slit and folds through the material. You spread those legs for him with a little more coaxing from him, your back pressed against his chest, head lolling on his shoulder as his lips skip along your exposed neck.

A moan chokes in Steve’s throat when he palms himself, already rigid from the fleeting thoughts. Thick fingers wrap around his girth, squeeze the base before he tugs upward, real slow, all the way to the tip as he imagines how soft your cunt is. How wet. Warm. How he’d push two fingers in, stopping as you tense— squeal. Tits jiggling when you jump and gasp when he adds a third.

“Shit,” he huffs, the innate urge to scold himself pausing his hand.

But it’s too late for all that now, cock standing tall, a blush of red creeping across his thighs and up his neck. Stomach going tight as his flesh warms at his touch.

He wishes it were yours— the touch.

He’d finger fuck you real slow, right there on that back porch of yours. One of your small hands wrapped around the back of his neck, the other holding his forearm, nails digging into his skin as your hips roll into his fingers and cock.

Blue eyes pop back open as he rolls to the side, pushing his hand between the mattress and box spring to pull out a small bottle of lube. Bucky can’t mind his fucking business nowadays… he also never puts shit back where he found it and doesn’t understand the saying a dollop will do ya, so, this bottle of water based lube will stay hidden between the mattress and box spring.

They’ve been on the run for almost six months, Steve’ll be damned if a trip to a sex store gets them caught now.

A soft click breaks the silence, but Steve hesitates anyway. Bucky’s serum may not have enhanced his senses to the same hypersensitive degree as Steve’s, but the fucker can still hear a pin drop on a carpeted floor while a radio plays in the background.

The room temperature gel squirts easy in his hand, starts to warm as soon as Steve closes his mammoth palm around his hot cock, sending another ripple right down his spine. Hips start to rock as he finds a rhythm. Up, down, up, down. Fingertips sweeping over his wet tip before dragging back down to his stomach. He ruts up into his palm, stomach and balls tight as he pushes out a heavy breath.

Steve, you rasp, heady and thick, Steve, please baby. Fuck me, Steve.

A thick breath hitches in his throat as he imagines the words tripping off your tongue; so desperate and needy. A quick spurt of silk wets his cock head, dribbles down before his palm catches it. A tight, slow tug smearing it along his length as he fucks up into the canal of his hand again.

Free fingers slip down his side, find his strung up balls, heavy and swollen. He rolls them between his fingers, squeezes, imagines you grinding that perfect ass against his hard cock before reaching back to grab him. Begging him.

Steve. Fill me up. Stuff me full, baby. Please.

And he would— stuff you full. He’d ruck that black skirt right up over your hips, rip that thong in two. Teeth would find your earlobe, eager hands in your top, squeezing those perky, round, full tits as his cock head drags through wet folds— teases your slit.

Would he slam into you right away? Just as desperate as you are for it. Wanting to feel soft, hot muscles clamp around him. Or, would he sink in? Slow and steady, making you take him inch by inch. Squeaking and groaning all the while, fingernails dug into his thighs, clipped, broken, breathy words falling from wet lips and floating away with the breeze.

He’d grab a fistful of your wild hair, real tight. Yank your head back when you’ve taken every bit of his cock, ass flat against his stomach. Call you his favorite little dumb baby. Tell you how greedy your cunt is, how only he can satisfy that slutty hole. Kiss you hard and sloppy as you nod quick, murmuring and burbling— totally agreeable to each and every whim of his.

Yeah. That’s how he’d do it. Push in real slow, make you whine for it and tell him how much you need him. Then he’d slam into you. Not waiting for you to catch your breath. Not allowing you to adjust. He’d keep his grip tight on your hair, craning your neck back until he can almost see your eyes rolled up in the back of your head.

Steve’s chest is tight, his heartbeat in his throat, the rush of blood in his ears as he pumps his cock faster. The curl of his palm constricts to mimic the feel of you— wet, tense muscles enveloping him. He breathes in deep and the rose and strawberry is back in his nostrils. The faint hint of vanilla, a tinge of sweat. The sound of your skin slapping against his. The feel of your hips, your soft sides, thick nipples in his hands.

He wants them between his teeth, those pretty brown nipples. Wants to tease them with the tip of his tongue, while a lazy, long leg of yours is thrown over his hip— in the kitchen, up against the fridge.

Fuck. Maybe you’re a sensitive little thing. Maybe just him sucking your tits can make you come. His big hand shoved down the front of your open jean shorts, the pads of his fingers just barely brushing over your clit. Your hips rocking hard, trying to catch a feel against his hard thigh between your legs. Head thrown back, fingers in his hair. His name falling off your pretty lips, all flustered and stupid drunk off lust.

His hips flex once more and he’s tipped over the edge, long, hot strings of thick silk spurting. Teeth dig into his bottom lip, trying to stifle his groans as he comes, wave after wave rolling through. It splatters on his stomach, rolls down the side of his cock and over his fingers as they continue their strokes, up and down, up and down, up and down. Squeezing, pads teasing a sensitive tip.

He pulls on his balls, hips rolling up into his hand as he groans a little louder, each one punctuated with another spurt. Quick flashes of broken images— your sweet mouth, naked tits, full, meaty hips, ass bouncing— dance before his eyes as he drains himself. He tips his head back, pushes the top of his head into the pillow as his mouth hangs. Cock now overly sensitive, each sweep making him shiver but he doesn’t want to stop. It’s too good— you’re too good and sweet.

The body is always weaker than the mind and Steve knows a thing or two about a weak body. It gives out before his visions of you, slamming him back down to the mattress, hips and hands slowing until they both stop. Breath heavy and labored, head rolled to the side, a hand slapping into the middle of his chest. He’s a mess, sticky and wet, but the relaxation that washes through him is unmatched.

A knock on the wall sounds seconds later, “Hey pervert, you finished?”

“Fuck you.”

“No dummy, I’m trying to fuck me. Gimme the lube.”

~~~

It’s hot, and in more ways than one, but that’s not the only reason you’re having trouble concentrating on getting these hydrangeas in the dirt. It’s been two days of watching two men basically build you a new home. T shirts have come off, pants have sagged embarrassingly (for you) low. All the hammering and screwing, the light little curses that fall their lips making your brain go all… well, dumb.

And they’re both impossibly nice. Bucky with his sure thing, sugar. I got it honey, no problem. Steve and his yes ma’am. Here, let me get this outta the way. Need anything else? Sure, it may seem like just having simple manners to some, but to you, who’s been a welcome mat for any and every asshole that’s looked in your direction, it’s all about to make you combust.

You’ve purposefully kept your distance. Try to keep your eyes to yourself, put at least six feet between your body and their bodies when moving around them, but it’s really no use. Just having them here, in your space— the natural smell of man lingering in the air even after they’ve left, and God has it been a long time since you’ve been immersed in that smell—  has cast a spell. A spell that forces your hand down your pants more often than not. Prunes. Your fingers are prunes.

Against your better judgement, you blink up from the flower bed, searching for a certain blonde eye candy. Steve is on the opposite end of the front porch, ripping up a rotted, but still two inch or more thick board with nothing else but his hands. Snaps it in half like a twig, like it’s nothing, and tosses the pieces into a pile behind him. He takes a second before grabbing one of the new boards and throws his head back, runs his fingers through his hair, shaking it gently back and forth.

A bead of sweat rolls down his chest, right between those two beautiful, sculpted tits of his and travels down his abs, absorbing into the tuft of dark blonde hair just below his belly button. There’s more veins. So, so many veins, pumping hot blood throughout his six foot something, two hundred plus pounds.

Steve then pushes a hand around the back of his neck, rubbing gently as he tilts his head towards the sky. Lips parted, long, dark eyelashes spread out over rosy cheeks. Then you’re thinking about teeth, your teeth, sinking into that thick neck. Sucking that hot blood to the surface, marking him up. Hips rolling into his, cunt stuffed with cock, his fingers prodding at your asshole. Your hands look small holding onto his broad shoulders, squeezing as hard as you can but he barely feels it, if at all— the cut of your nails in his skin.

One of those hands, wide and warm, holds your neck, squeezes, and you for damn sure feel it. Wet lips find the shell of your ear, teeth grab the lobe. Soft words, so soft that you almost miss them, all tied up and slurred and stupid with lust. You’re such a pretty girl. Hmm? Ain’tcha? There you go, honey. Just like that. Oh, that’s perfect.

His mouth finds your neck as you roll your head back, hips still rolling. Lips swollen and red snagging on your skin as he drags them lazily, down, down, down to your collarbone. Teeth nibble at the bone before he slides his tongue across it, all while one hand slithers up your back, grabs and holds onto your shoulder.

You squeak when he fucks up into you real hard, just once, so he knows you feel him. You like that, honey? You want it like that? Okay, sweet girl, lemme give you what you want...

Lunch.

It’s time for some goddamn lunch.

You’re on your feet in a flash, head down as Steve twists left and right, because of course now that your panties are stuck to your skin, it’s the perfect time for him to work out a kink in his back.

“You okay?” he asks, eyes trailing you as you practically run towards the front door.

“Yep,” you don’t even look at him— you can’t. Heat prickling across your skin as embarrassment follows quickly behind, “Just getting kinda hungry… chicken salad sandwiches okay?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Buck and I can head home—”

“My treat,” you cut him off, twisting the doorknob.

All thanks to Bucky, a blast of cool air hits you in the face as soon as you push through the front door with ease (Steve is to thank for the door). You wipe at your forehead and move into the kitchen, washing your hands before plucking random ingredients from the fridge, freezer and pantry. Eyeing the small mountain of lemons in the crisper drawer, a pitcher of lemonade would round out your impromptu lunch (and help cool down your libido).

After the chicken is boiling on the stove, you busy yourself slicing up the tart, yellow fruit, popping the halves into your new lemon press. You’ve liquified three or four halves before movement catches your eye, drawing them towards the square window right over the sink.

Bucky tosses a hammer into the grass, hands on his hips while he rolls his shoulders. Cranes his neck back and forth. Soon he’s pulling at his shirt, one hand bunching it between his shoulder blades before pulling it clean over his head. Tosses it into the grass too as he starts to move towards the stream, fumbling with the button and zipper of his loose jeans.

Your heartbeat grows heavy, breath kinda shallow as he shrugs out of the denim just at the stream's edge. Then his fingers are in the waistband of his boxer briefs. Pulling. You blink away, sending your eyes towards the floor as heat, from both excitement and embarrassment creeps up into your face. What a creep— you’re a creep!

But you’re blinking again. Blinking right back out the window as the muffled sounds of water sloshing about fills the space. Naked thighs, burly and tanned and hairy. Swinging between his legs as he moves deeper into the water.

Just like that, your mind is off into it’s little tangents and tributaries. On your knees, in front of him. A hand cupping your chin, a smile on his face as he pushes hair away from your forehead. He’s leaning down, pressing hot, chapped lips to yours real soft. Your hands, so small when gripping his hips, nails raking down hairy thighs. Wet against your eager lips, warm, wet cock head rubbing soft, back and forth, back and forth to coax your mouth open.

A hum, one of content and sheer happiness sounds in your throat when you’re full of him. Velvet tongue tracing the thick vein that runs the length of his cock, then flattening— molding itself around him. He’s heavy and hot in your mouth, pinning your tongue down, gently stroking the soft at the back of your throat.

Bucky sounds heavenly. Soft groans. Sweet and sugary— and he doesn’t care. He’s a man, comfortable and secure. Oh honey, he’d purr, you’re so good to me. So, s’good. So warm.

Little hands around his cock, stroking, twisting, wet and sloppy from where your mouth just was. There’s a salt sweet in the back on the tip of your tongue, and you hum again. Silky. A bloom of warmth as you press the tip of your tongue against the tip of his cock. Pumping, pumping, pumping with your hands.

Breath against your ear suddenly, more sweet words tripping off a tongue as a chest is pushed into your back. A mammoth hand slipping down your stomach and between your legs, fingers teasing a throbbing clit and swollen, sticky folds. You take him so good, baby, Steve praises, pushing one, two, three fingers into your achy cunt, filling you up as you suck Bucky right back into your mouth. Such a good girl.

A loud thunk sounds from outside, jolting you right out of your little fantasy. You gasp and jump, slam your eyes closed as you grab onto the sink— Steve’s muffled but sweet sorry permeating through the walls. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently into them before groaning loudly and pushing out a huff.

You grab another halved lemon, shove it into the press, and squeeze the fuck out of that bitch.

Within the hour, you’re stepping out onto your seemingly finished back porch. It doesn’t creak when you walk across it. There aren’t any rusted, jagged nails sticking out, no more missing or uneven boards. Your heart— and pussy— flutter with joy.

Ice cubes clink against the glass of the cups in your hands, traipsing towards the stream as Bucky floats lazily, arms pushing through the water slow as he stares up into the sky. You thank God for the heavy breeze today, whipping the water a bit, ripples and burbles stirring it up so you can’t see all of Bucky as he floats. Just the droplets of water glimmering on his chest, neck, and face. His hair spreading out and swaying with the steady current.

Two blue eyes soon find you, head turning slow, a lopsided smile on his handsome face as you stop just at the edge. You clear your throat nervously, a smile of your own spreading as you glance away.

“No heels today?”

You laugh, closing your eyes as embarrassment washed through you, “Nope, not today. I uh, I made some lemonade, if you… want some.”

The water sloshes again, falls off of his shoulders and arms and slaps back into the main source. Bucky runs his hands over his head, pushing more water off before taking a few steps towards your outstretched hand. His fingers linger over yours when he takes the round glass, for a second too long before he pulls back, eyes on you as he takes a slow sip.

You sit in the grass, sending your gaze up the stream as you lift your glass.

“Damn girl,” he says after a slow moment, “This is good, not too sweet. Just how I like it.”

Pride swells in your chest, “Thanks, I don’t like mine super sweet either,” you take a breath, settle your eyes on your feet as you wiggle your toes, “It’s the least I could do for you guys. I also made some chicken salad in the house, I can make you a sandwich whenever you’re hungry.”

“That’s real sweet, doll,” he purrs, smiling again, “Thank you, but really, you don’t have to worry about it. We were going stir crazy out here with nothing to do.”

You nod slow, blinking back at him before averting your eyes again, back down the stream, thinking for a tick or two, “Have you guys… been out here the whole time?”

Bucky has a way of looking at you. Like he’s trying to pry into you, see the innermost working parts of your brain and heart. It makes you nervous, but the good kind of nervous where you don’t ever want to not have those eyes on you.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” you smile, tucking your knees into your chest.

A slow smile creeps onto his face, eyes dancing all over you, “Come on what?”

“I,” you hesitate, pushing out a hard breath as embarrassment flushes through you, “I know who you are,” your voice is hushed and you don’t know why… there’s no one out here but you and him. Oh yeah, cuz you’re dumb.

“Yeah?” Bucky teases, smile growing larger, “Who are we?”

You squeeze your legs together, brain going fuzzy and warm as he teases you. God. “Your faces have been all over the news for months. You haven’t even cut your hair for god sake.”

“You know,” Bucky starts, pointing a finger at you as he closes his left eye, “I’ve been meaning to get around to that,” laughter bubbles up and spills out of your mouth for the first genuine time in a long time. The sound makes Bucky smile harder, “I’m pretty sure most of the town knows it’s us too.”

“Maybe not,” you shrug, “From the looks of it, the average age around here is a cool seventy five. I don’t think they care.”

“That’s true,” he laughs, “Even though they’re all old enough to remember us first hand,” silence falls over the two of you, nothing but the wind in the trees and the soft rush of the water, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You look away from him, unable to take the constant stare from him any longer. You take a slow breath and shrug, “Everybody should have the chance to start over if they want, whenever and however they choose, so,” you swallow hard, dropping your head, “Plus, I think you two have been through enough, you don’t need me muckin’ it up.”

He blinks at you, eyes dropping just a bit, a seriousness settling in and on his features, “Thanks,” he answers simply.

A nod and half smile is all you can offer without that sadness you’ve been feeling lately creeping up in your throat, “Isn’t it lonely out here?” you ask, blinking at him over the rim of your glass.

He nods, shutting one eye as he tilts his head towards the sky, thinking over his answer, “Not really lonely, just kinda isolating, you know? If you can’t tell, I’m the social butterfly of the two of us.”

You laugh, nodding with him as you pick up on the sarcasm but appreciating his quiet way of picking up on your shifts and changing the subject, “Oh yeah, it totally oozes off of you.”

“I know it does, thank you for noticing,” he winks, “We don’t get into town much and usually Steve is the one that goes cuz, ya know,” he taps his temple, “Can’t really trust this thing yet, but it beats being rotting away in federal prison.”

A few beats pass as you play with a strand of grass, “I went to the Smithsonian a couple of years ago, saw that installation they put up for Steve— all the accolades and medals and shit… and he just walked away from it all, for you, for… what he believes in. That’s incredible— you’re incredible for enduring everything you have and still finding all this shit worth it. You two are just,” you can’t even find the words, “You must really love each other.”

“Well, home is home, you know,” he shrugs matter-of-factly, “He’s my brother— he’s never given up on me after all this time. I’d do it for him if I had too.”

“Boy,” you laugh a little, “They certainly don’t make men like you guys anymore. I can’t get somebody to buy me fuckin’ cup of coffee without expecting something in return. You two are lucky.”

Your words trail off, brown eyes blinking away from him again as the wheels turn in your brain. Bucky picks up on it immediately, tilts his head and smiles a little, “What?”

You shake your head, laughing again before taking a drink, “It’s nothing, just me overthinking.”

“About?” he prods after a second or two.

“I just,” you glance down the stream again, voice dropping low again, “I don’t think Steve likes me.”

He laughs. Like, really laughs. A throws his head back and claps his hands once or twice kinda laugh, “Oh hun,” he says after catching his breath, “Where’d you get an idea like that?”

“He’s just, I dunno, he’s short with me, barely looks at me most of the time,” you shrug, “But I mean, you two are fugitives from the goddamn United States government, I’d be suspicious of everything and everyone too,” Bucky’s laughter only grows, making you smile a little, “My social anxiety amuses you, huh?”

“No, no. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but, it’s just—” his eyes go wide with some sort of hidden knowledge as his smirk grows, “— he likes you. Believe me.”

“Well excuse me if I don’t because I sure can’t tell. He barely seems to like you most days.”

That tickles Bucky too, his laugh filling the air, “Him liking me isn’t certain from day to day, that’s for sure, but listen, he still thinks of himself as a hundred pound, socially awkward nerd. He hasn’t learned a damn thing in a hundred years — pretty girls made him nervous in 1940 and they make him nervous now,” you drop your head, trying to hide the smile growing on your face, “What do they say nowadays? It’s not you, it’s him.”

A laugh trickles out from behind your lips.

“Feel better?” Bucky asks.

You shrug, but nod, letting out a breath, “I suppose, yeah.”

He winks at you, smiling again, “Good.”

Then you two just kinda look at each other. Not saying anything, just looking— all over. Minds wandering and racing, then just stilling as the wind whips around you. Bucky tilts his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he looks you over slowly, another quirk of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” he says after a beat, taking another gulp or two of your lemonade, “You know what really gives me away?” He lifts his metal hand and wiggles his fingers, making you laugh.

“You certainly don’t try very hard to hide it.”

“Not around you anyway.”

You snap your eyes towards him as the words leave his mouth. Bucky’s head is tilted, wet hair pushed back, fat drops of water still dripping from the ends. He starts moving inward, towards you, each step exposing more and more of his chest and stomach— the dark, wet hair plastered underneath his belly button.

Bucky Barnes is not a shy man, and if you had any shame at all, you’d look away. But you don’t, have any shame that is, so you don’t. You let your eyes wander his lean, but incredibly toned body. There’s muscles on top of muscles, but there’s also scars. Littered across his torso and stomach, down his thighs and calves. Some silvery and old, others still dark and jagged— raised on his skin. Others are just ghosts of scars, barely there anymore and only visible when the sun and the water hit him just right.

He sits his empty glass in the grass beside you, the ice cubes clinking again. Grabs your glass from your hands and takes a sip. He pushes your knees open with his flesh hand, the bottom of the glass skimming over the right bend. Then he sits, his knees pressing into that little nook where your ass meets your thighs. Bucky places the rim of the glass to your lips and waits.

“Go on.”

You blink up at him but let your head tilt back with instinct. Part your lips as Bucky tips the glass back and allows the lemonade to spill slow into your awaiting mouth.

“Finished? Or more?”

His voice is soft, eyes on slits as he peers down at you through full lashes. You lick your lips and place both hands in the grass, palms flat, “More please.”

It’s needy the way you said it, light and full all at the same time. Another sound that pleases him. He tips the glass again, and again you accept the tart liquid, licking your lips when he pulls away.

“Let me ask you something, doll.”

Metal digits creep around your neck, the tips of his fingers pushing into your hair. He cradles your face and you can’t help but roll into his warm palm as his thumb sweeps just underneath your bottom lip. The other hand is around your neck now too, just kind of holding it, fingers scratching at the nape of your neck.

He tilts your head back, pushing the tips of his thumbs underneath your chin and your eyes flutter. A whir trembling in your throat.

“Who in their right mind let a sweet little needy thing like you wander around all alone out here?”

Warm lips are on yours before you can answer— if you were even supposed to. Bucky grabs your top lip between both of his, that pink tongue sneaking out, massaging the roof of your mouth before disconnecting with a smack. The tip of his nose sweeps over yours as he adjusts, kissing you again, harder this time. Pulls you into him with his hands, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks.

You’re staring at him— both surprised and unsure— when he finally pulls away, the smack of your lips like thunder in a confused brain. Bucky’s hands are still on your face, cradling your cheeks and chin, lopsided grin painted on his face as he blinks down at you.

“What is it,” he asks soft, “Cat got your tongue?”

All you can do is blink. Mind empty as your breath shallows. He leans in again, sweeps the tip of his nose over yours as he nuzzles in— kisses your top lip quick and soft, “You just don’t know, do you?”

A hum vibrates in the back of your throat as you push out a labored breath. Lips suddenly eager, heartbeat ticking up as his metal hand collars around your throat, “Mmph— know what?”

The words are thin. Nervous and trembling but his mouth eats them right up. Hot and confident as he kisses you, tongue running along the roof of your mouth as his thumb slowly passes back and forth over your throat.

“Just how sweet you are.”

Your reach for him after seconds pass, hands and nails finding wet hips as you moan into his mouth. He sits up on his knees but never breaks the kiss, now deep and a little desperate. Bucky sounds as he starts to prod at the button of your jean shorts, popping it quick before pulling on the zipper, “We can smell how bad you need it, girl— how bad you want it.”

Instinctively you lift your hips, allowing Bucky to pull your shorts down your legs. You curl them around his thighs, place your feet on the insides of his calves, fingers finding his skin again, raking up and down his thighs.

“Thought you were gonna Steve a goddamn heart attack,” he chuckles, grabbing at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up over your chest, “‘m surprised he can form a sentence when you’re around.”

Your tits soon fall free, soft skin bouncing and jiggling as he jostles you around a bit— gets you just right and close so he can peer down at you through those long, dark lashes. Fingers curled underneath your chin, thumb dragging over your lips.

“You just looked so lonely, sitting all by yourself that day. So sweet and sad, like you were—” a breath chokes in his throat as you push your fingers through the thick hair underneath his belly button, “— waitin’ for us. Fuck, baby,” he inhales sharp, a hiss like a snake slithering out of him, “I thought, there’s no way anyone is that innocent, but you are, aren’t you sweet girl? We’ve found the prettiest, sweetest, loneliest little thing in the world— ah,”

One long stroke of your tongue along his cock brings his words to a halt. You send your eyes up to his and take him slow, stretching your mouth wide as your tongue glides along the length. Bucky rolls his shoulders and lets out a focused breath, real calm and slow through his teeth and parted lips. The tips of his fingers prod at your nipples, tweaking them gently before palming your tits.

You wrap a hand around his hip, skip the other up his stomach to flatten your palm against his chest— give his nipple a little turn and pinch. His heavy cock jumps in your mouth and your eyes light up in pure joy.

“Oh,” he purrs, pumping his hips slow, holding steady when he feels the back of your throat, “You like that, sugar? You like makin’ a mess of me? Got me stumblin’ all over my words— shit, oh honey, this mouth is something special, ain’t it? Fuck,”

His words are clipped again by a groan, throaty and gritty as you pull back, your lips wrapped around his cock head. Your tongue swirls around, tickles that little spot on the underside. The same spot that makes all men tremble. His thighs tense as he inhales sharp.

Without a word, he slips out of your mouth. Pushes you back flat against the grass and falls over you, metal hand by your head, holding his weight, flesh hand around his cock, pushing the tip through your folds.

He teases you like that for a beat too long— pushing at your slit, barely poking inside before pulling out to rub against your clit. You whine, leaning up, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pressing your forehead to his all while wiggling your hips. Trying to coax him in.

“What’s the magic word?” he taunts, tutting at you before pressing his lips to yours quick, pulling back with a smack, “Use your manners.”

“Please,” it’s huffy. Impatient and greedy, “Please, Bucky.”

“What do you want? Huh? Tell me what you want?”

“I wan’ you to—“

One quick stroke. Before you can even finish the sentence. He’s pushed in, all the way in— every last inch shoved inside. The sound you make is ungodly. Your fingers clamp around the back of his neck, grip tight as your mouth falls open. You have trouble catching your breath, panting like some animal left out in the heat too long. The fullness is just—

“Look at you,” Bucky purrs, pulling back before pushing in slow, “Oh honey,” quick kisses wash over your face— forehead, eyes, nose, chin, “You fit me just perfect, don’t you?”

You feel yourself nodding, dazed, so wholly consumed by the feel of him over you— inside you— that whatever words were jumbling around in your brain just a few seconds ago fizzle out into static.

Bucky is... he's— big. All over. Broad shoulders and thick thighs, muscle upon muscle stacked in a stocky frame that shouldn't lend itself to the agility you've seen him conduct himself with, but it does and it works. He's lethal, from the stories you've heard, yes— but he's also devastatingly gentle in the way he makes you fall apart with his touch, nestled safely between the grass beneath your back and the cradle of his lap.

"You're—" your words fall short, nothing more than a squeak and a sharp intake of breath spilling from your lips when he hits the spot that makes your tongue turn to lead, "— big.”

Bucky leans further into you, as if it's even possible, biting kisses stealing whatever breath is left in your lungs. He laughs into the kiss, soothes over the hurt on your bottom lip with his tongue. "I know, baby. Feel me in there?"

He punctuates the question with a hand to your abdomen and a sharp thrust that borders on the thin edge between pain and pleasure. Bucky shushes your answering moan, whispers into your mouth to— look at what I do to you, honey.

It's to your own demise that you follow through with the command, eyes rolling to the back of your head after only a quick look. It’s obscene how much fits inside of you. The thickness of him presses against your walls, thrusts deep and unrelenting, every movement outlined beneath the thick skin of your abdomen.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he continues, palming your tits as they move with his thrusts, “Feels good, huh?”

You can only nod, the words strangled in your throat, nothing but squeaks and garbled moans pushing through. He fucks you slow, metal digits slipping down to your clit— light, teasing little strokes sending fire through your veins.

That metal hand comes back up, fingers and palm flat to your skin, sliding up your belly, through your tits only to wrap around your throat, applying a gentle pressure if only for a second. Then his hand is moving again. Up over your chin, thumb outlining your lips and flattening against your mouth before pushing the tip inside.

You welcome it, his thumb; the metal hot from absorbing the sun. You grab his wrist and open wider, inviting the entire length of his thumb inside. Moan deep as your tongue and lips wrap around it. Start to suck.

“You’re just the best girl,” he purrs, eyes fluttering, pecs flexing as he fucks into you with patience, “Just a precious little needy girl.”

~~~

I don’t think Steve likes me.

Steve stops mid-hammering. Eyes squinting as he adjusts the nails between his teeth, just hanging off his lip.

Oh hun, where’d you get an idea like that?

He’s just, I dunno, he’s short with me, barely looks at me most of the time.

He cringes thinking about what could possibly come out of Bucky’s mouth next, but when the crude words he just knew were about to fly don’t come, Steve lets out a breath. The last thing he needs you to know is how he’s jerked off to thoughts of you wrapped around his cock in a variety of ways every night since he’s met you.

He hasn’t meant for it to be obvious. Embarrassment and a little shame floods through him as he stands on the ladder, head hung low as he listens to your conversation. But the truth is, you make him dizzy. Everything about you is just so strong— it’s taken everything in him to focus on this porch and not your ass or down your low hanging collar as you’ve hovered over the flower beds all day.

Your heartbeat in his ears, the mix of your shampoo and lotion— your cunt— all mixed up in his nose. Filling his lungs and choking his brain. It’s too much and not enough for him all in the same breath. So he’s tried to keep his distance, work out his frustrations by pounding nails into wood when in reality, the only thing he’s been wanting to pound is you.

Sarah Rogers would be rolling over in her grave, and he knows it. She did not raise a rude son. Steve sighs heavily, blinking at the grass as he starts to work out his apology in his head.Plucking a nail from his mouth, he huffs out a breath and rests the sharp tip against the board, snapping his head quick to throw his long hair out of his face. Just as he’s about to bring the hammer down against the flat head, a familiar scent fills his nose.

It’s you, but heavier. Thicker. So consuming it could knock him over— makes the hair on the back of his neck stand right on end. With every breath he takes there’s just more and more… until his feet are carrying him around the side of the house. The hammer falling with a thump into the grass. Nails tumbling from his lips.

You like that, sugar? You like makin’ a mess of me? Got me stumblin’ all over my words— shit, oh honey, this mouth is something special, ain’t it? Fuck

Steve stops dead in his tracks as the words stuff his ears, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat as he blinks slow. Your naked back, slender and curved. Two long legs cocooning Bucky’s hips— head bobbing. Bucky groans deep, head lolling back, mouth falling open slightly as you suck him off.

Steve’s stomach tightens as heat creeps across his flesh. Stuck to the ground right where he stands, he watches Bucky push you back into the grass. Watches your full tits, nipples thick and piqued, jiggle as you writhe and whine like a petulant child before pulling yourself up by his neck.

Please, he hears you beg, please, Bucky.

His mouth goes dry. The heavy thumps of his own heartbeat in his ears, your carnal scent swirling, as his cock pushes against the denim of his jeans. He has to grab himself, give his cock and balls a little squeeze as your breath shudders while you adjust to the sheer size of Bucky— and a shiver ripples down his spine.

You’re— big.

I know, baby. Feel me in there?

Steve’s knees buckle when you squeak at Bucky’s first thrust— has to reach out and catch himself with the help of a tree trunk. A fog clouds his brain as the smell of you and Bucky’s sex fills the air, the soft little sputters and whines that fall from your lips suffocating him as Bucky fucks you slow. This is the closest he’s felt to being sick in eighty years. Stomach churning, his head light as air chokes in his throat.

“Don’t be shy, buddy,” the words aren’t clear at first, kinda murky and distant before Bucky’s voice centers. Steve blinks, swallowing hard as he stares back at two blue eyes, “Look baby,” he purrs down at you, leaning down to lick your mouth before cutting his eyes back towards Steve, “And you thought he didn’t like you— the fucker can’t even breathe seeing you all stuffed full like this,”

Bucky kisses you hard but slow, humming real low as he sucks your tongue, “What are you waiting for, Cap?” he asks after breaking away from you, “Get your ass over here.”

Steve’s never been one to not follow an order.

~~~

You’re a trembling mess. Chest heaving, wimpy little sounds rushing from your mouth, fingernails dug into the meat of Bucky’s sides. Your head’s turned to the side, mouth hanging as you strain to watch Steve move towards you. Bucky fucks into you hard— hand pressed against your belly so you can feel it— sending a sharp pang of pain and pleasure. You squeal, eyes slamming shut as your hands fall to the grass, nothing but jelly.

Bucky slips out of you, flips you over onto your stomach before propping you up on your hands and knees all pretty like. His fingers push through your folds, rubbing soft circles, teasing your slit as he grabs your hair and yanks your head up to help keep your eyes on Steve, who falls to his knees in front of you.

“See what you do to him?” Bucky hums, his thumb sneaking up through your ass cheeks, pressing against your tight hole, “He’s been like this all week, all blushy and tense, head in the clouds just to try and focus on anything but you.”

Your eyes flutter again, teeth digging down into your bottom lip as Bucky’s thumb sinks into you, your greedy hole quick to swallow it up. He pumps it slow, the rest of his long fingers and warm palm cupping your swollen, wet cunt. You let out a breath, a gasp cutting it off as his fingers start to move, rubbing slow little circles against your clit again. Your hair still bunched in his hand, keeping your head up.

There’s fingers on your face, palms against your cheeks and thumbs on your lips as Steve tilts your head up a little higher, “Is she sweet, Buck?”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky answers with a quick chuckle, clipping it with a grunt as he stuffs you back full with his cock, “She’s as sweet as honey, Cap. That mouth— whew.”

You swallow hard, mouth falling open as Steve unzips his jeans and pushes his hand inside. He inches closer to you, knees dug into the grass and dirt as you start to lunge forward with Bucky’s soft thrusts, mewling as he continues to finger your asshole. Another deep surge of air fills your lungs as Steve pulls himself from his jeans.

“Je-sus,” you falter, voice shaking with Bucky’s thrusts as his hips pick up pace.

Steve works himself out of his jeans quick, hand pumping his cock all the while— the tip red and wet. Back on his knees in front of you, he continues to fuck himself, hand twisting slow up his shaft, the other pulling on his heavy sac as you bounce off of Bucky’s stomach.

Eyes half closed, long hair falling over his face, pink tongue sneaking out over his bottom lip as he watches you. Your eyes fall to his hands, blinking fast so you don’t miss a moment.

You fall to your left elbow, reach out with your right hand, skimming your nails up his thigh before wrapping your fingers around him. Following with your lips and tongue, you suck him in, caress the vein protruding against his tight, thin skin with your tongue. Stretch wide again as you take Steve’s length into your mouth— down your throat. You moan as you release him with a pop, keeping his cockhead pressed against your lips as you stroke him with your hand.

You take just the tip, swirling your tongue, tickling his little slit as he leans back, fucks up into your mouth with a sharp thrust, “Shit, girl,” he mumbles, “‘m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize to her,” Bucky sounds, “She can take it, can’t you sugar? It’s been a long time for ol’ Stevie boy,” he runs his metal hand up your spine, grabs the back of your neck as he levels a quick slap against your ass, “Be a good girl and let him fuck your throat.”

Almost on queue, Steve fucks up into your mouth again, tears prickling in your eyes as he opens your throat. His hand finds your head, sweeps over the crown before he squeezes gently, hips pumping upward. The squelch of your throat, the slap of Bucky’s skin on yours drowns out everything else— makes it all go fuzzy and hazy.

You’re just a toy. A thing for them to use until they’ve had their fill and hopefully, that won’t come any time soon.

Steve thrusts into your mouth again but this time stills, pushing your head down on to him. You grunt loud, nose in the thick, wiry hair smattered at the base of his stomach, tears rolling down your face. He pulses his hips— real slow— wiggling gently to push deeper and deeper down your throat— his mouth hanging, chest heaving as you take him all.

Bucky slams into you hard, holds his hips there for a beat before snapping his hips again, thrusting you forward— making you whimper even louder. Steve pulls out quick, leaving you panting and grunting, dragging in ragged breaths as strings of spit and cum hang from your bottom lip. He pushes back in before you can think straight, sends his cock down your throat again, holds his hips in place as his thighs flex and strain, just to pull out roughly again seconds later.

Steve wraps a hand around your throat, pushes your chin up as he squeezes your cheeks to pucker your mouth, “You like that, huh?” he kisses you hard, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “You’re a good little girl— you like feeling me in there?”

When you don’t answer fast enough, he slaps your cheek, mostly all fingers but hard enough to make you gasp. He grabs your face again, kisses you again— quick and hard before craning your neck to make you face him, “Good girls answer when the Captain speaks.”

Bucky pinches the inside of your thigh, a loud yelp bursting from your lips before you grunt, overwhelmed and consumed by the pain and the pleasure. You nod frantically, swallowing hard, strangled groans vibrating in your throat, “I’m— I lik-like,” you stutter, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Aww baby,” Steve chuckles, caressing your face and wiping at your wet cheeks. He kisses you, once, twice, three times as Bucky pulls out of your cunt, thumb leaving your asshole,”Goodness, she can’t even talk, Buck.”

Steve picks you up, right up off the ground like you're waistless and settles you in his lap, cocooning you in his arms and warmth. Kisses your forehead and rubs your back as you nuzzle into him. Another pair of warm lips are on your shoulder blade, curling up over your shoulder, lips snagging on your skin as they move. Hands, both flesh and metal sweeping up and down your sides.

“You’re such a pretty girl,” Bucky mumbles into your skin, bunching your hair in his hand again to nibble on your neck.

Steve turns you in his arms, rests your back against his chest, your head on his shoulder. Warm palms find your tits, massage them gently as Bucky spreads your legs, bending them at the knees and placing your feet flat on the ground. Running his metal hand through his hair, he sticks his flesh fingers into his mouth, runs the pads over his tongue before he reaches out and touches you. Guides wet fingers through your sticky folds, not to excite or tease, but really just to feel you— soothe your hot, swollen cunt.

He thumbs your clit lazily before he cups your sex, smiling and growling with pride, “They didn’t make pussy like this back in the fourties,” he gives your cunt a quick slap, stroking his cock slow, “Steve wouldn’t know about that though, he wasn’t getting any.”

“Fuck you,” Steve fires back, his low rumble of laughter vibrating through you as he pinches and prods at your nipples.

He releases your tits to grab his cock, guides his cockhead towards your aching slit as Bucky spreads you open for him. His hips drive upward, the tip of his cock teasing your hole once, twice before finally breaking the threshold, popping inside. You both gasp as you sink down on him, pushing and wiggling your hips into his to get him all in.

“God,” you murmur, head falling back oh his shoulder, eyes rolling as he takes up every inch your have to offer, “Fuck, you’re so— big,”

“Deja vu,” Bucky hums, playing with your clit.

“But you can take it, can’t you,” Steve whispers against the shell of your ear, fucking up into you, “You can take all this cock, can’t you girl?”

“Mmhmm,” you huff between gritted teeth, “Mm fuck, yeah I can— fuck,”

Steve doesn’t waste a lot of time. Leans back on his elbows and hooks his hands in the bends of your legs, lifting them up so your feet are bouncing with each shove of his hips. Bucky rubs your clit with one hand, grabs your wrist and pulls you up a little straighter to wrap your hand around his cock with the other. You pump him fast, drops of precum dripping down your thigh.

Lips and teeth press into the meat of your left thigh, making you gasp. Bucky sucks more flesh into his mouth, sucks so hard it hurts as Steve fucks you senseless. You push upward, eyes falling to your stomach and between your legs, watching the bulge of Steve’s cock pushing along your skin. Your eyes then find Bucky’s, piercing and focused as he slithers his wet tongue along your skin, outlines your puffy cunt, then flicks at your clit as Steve fucks away. Pushes his metal hand down on your stomach as he sucks your nub into his mouth.

You’re a shuddering heap. Unable to move, legs and arms, neck and head going limp. You just bounce with the force of Steve’s hips, random shivers ripple through every burning, strained muscle. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes— you can’t even hear yourself crying. Teetering on the edge, swamped between too much and not enough all over again.

Steve snarls in your ear, teeth nibbling quick before he moans real sweet, “Shit, you’re gonna make me come— that cunt squeezing me all tight.”

“Mmm, that’s what this filthy little hole wants, isn’t it?” Bucky mutters, mouth still full of your clit and pussy lips, “Huh baby? This greedy slit just wants some cum.”

“I should fill her up, huh? Give this cockwhore what she wants?”

Bucky laughs when your hips jut forward, body jerking involuntarily, “Oh yeah,” he smirks, leveling three quick, hard slaps to your clit, “Give her what she wants, she’s been good.”

Steve fucks into you harder— faster, his clipped nails digging into your skin. Bucky sucks on your clit, fingers tickling the backs of your thighs. You’re nothing but liquid, melting into Steve’s hard body as heat pools in your belly before it spills over. Toes curl, face splintering as your octave rises but trembles with the impending bloom of release.

It snaps, somewhere deep inside. A piece that’s never broken before. You’re shaking, muscles tensing so hard it’s painful. Desperate, sharp, rough grunts shake through the trees and into the nothingness that surrounds your little cabin. Steve uses your clenching cunt to his advantage— shoves his cock in as deep as he can and holds it there for a beat before snapping his hips again, letting the pressure of your tight, convulsing muscles around the base of his cock start to milk him.

You can feel his spurts, thick and hot, coating messy, sticky walls. Soft hums from Bucky vibrate against your jumping clit as he sucks, pulling away with a loud smack before he slaps it again and again and again, praising you all the while, “That’s right, pretty girl. Look at you taking all that cock— such a good little cockslut you are.”

Steve is loud in your ear, biting on your earlobe as he spills into you. Wraps his colossal hand around your throat as he snaps his hips quick again, pushing deep, deep, deep.

He slips out of you without a moment's notice, not even waiting for your orgasm to quell. Bucky pushes your legs open wider, to watch the burst of white silk bubble from your hole and spill to your taint and asshole. He sweeps it up with his metal fingers, pushes it all— both cum and fingers— into your hot cunt, curling them as he massages your walls.

“Ah! Wait, I—” still trembly, weak and warm all over, fuzzy and oversensitive, “—mmm, Bucky, please.”

There is no rest for the wicked. Steve shoves his cock, wet with your slick, into your ass, Bucky pressing his fat cockhead at your entrance. You’re white hot as they both fuck into you, bodies pushing and pulling. One of Bucky’s hands around the back of your neck, squeezing hard as the other holds your cheek and chin in his palm. Steve wraps a long arm around your stomach, holds you to him tight as Bucky leans forward, throwing your leg over his shoulder. Fucks you fast— his heavy sac slapping against your taint. He stares at you, you him, the connection deep as Steve mutters in your ear, cursing the days and months and years it took them to find you. Their perfect baby girl.

You’re shuddering, howling and shrieking like a banshee as you start to come a second time. Bucky thrusts into you with every ounce of weight he has, fingers thrashing over your clit before he grunts just once. Low and gritty. Then he’s filling you up, cock spitting his warm seed, jumping inside of you with each spurt as he shoves deep.

Your orgasm is sharp, strikes a little deeper, hurts a little more. Limbs simply don’t work— won’t work. Can’t work. Eyes flutter as your body jerks with the involuntary aftershocks. You collapse back onto Steve’s chest as you huff and puff, almost gasping for air. You’re soon cocooned between two heavy, hot bodies, nothing but dense muscles and skin. Hands everywhere. Soothing. Caressing. Massaging. Words of encouragement and admiration washing over you.

Lazy words and wet, hot lips on your skin— you can feel the smiles on their faces pressing into you.

“You know what, doll?” Bucky mumbles, drawing circles over your tits with the tip of his index finger.

“Hmm?”

“Those chicken salad sandwiches sound pretty good right about now.”

You laugh, loud and carefree, covering your face with your hands as someone grabs your tit and gives it a little honk before showering your face in wet kisses. They jostle you around again as they stand, leaving you to stretch out in the grass, skin warming underneath the sun, a soft breeze tickling.

A heavy, content sigh pushes out of your lips, “Okay,” you answer simply— happy, stupid, and fuzzy.

Steve hoists you up into his arms, throws you over his shoulder with a couple of slaps against your ass. Bucky bites the little soft spot where your ass cheek meets your thigh and grabs a handful of skin as you squeal, falling into a fit of giggles again as the three of you start to move back towards the house.

“Well shit, girl. We got some laundry you can do too since you’re being all agreeable.” Bucky quips, taking another handful of your flesh to squeeze.

More giggles bubble in your chest as you bounce against Steve’s shoulder with each of his steps. You reach out lazily, brushing Bucky’s cheek and chin with your fingers. He grabs them quick, presses kisses against them and your palm.

“Looks like we gotta build you a new bed too,” Steve says, plopping you on your feet as soon as you cross the threshold into the kitchen.

You don’t even have to ask why.

You know it’s not sturdy enough to handle four hundred pounds of super soldier every night.

You’ve never been more on edge waiting for him to grab you or whisper something dirty in your ear.

The summer sun is warm on your back, the cloudy sky a hazy mix of light pinks, golden oranges, and darkening blues. Across the field, several stagehands are getting things set up, people filling in the wide space between you and the stage. You’re on the border of the field, near the parking lot. Steve and Sam brought chairs and blankets, while you and Bucky brought food.

You’re balancing yourself on a rickety plastic lawn chair between Marcie and Steve’s new girl. She’s a little shy, but you like her, especially when Steve sauntered over and opened a beer for her.

Poor girl got so flustered that she spilled it some on her hand when he gave it back to her. You and Marcie exchanged glances when he licked her fingers clean with a wink.

“Uh, sorry about him, he’s usually-.” She stammered, staring at his ass while he walked back to Bucky.

You tilt your own beer at Bucky, watching as he leans over the back of the truck showing off the new lift to Sam. “Trust me, mine’s much worse.”

“Are all bikers this horny or just your guys?” Marcie asks with a laugh, mumbling under her breath that she may need to get her own biker.

You laugh, nudging her with her shoulder. You lose yourself in the lighthearted conversation, giggling as Marcie shocks Steve’s girl with stories about you and Bucky. Every once in a while, you’ll catch his eye and he gives you a look that has you squirming in your seat.

The sky continues to darken as you talk until the abrupt piercing whine from the microphone feedback has you cringing. Looking down the field, you see the band walking out; the crowd starting to cheer and clap.

All the guys except Bucky walk away from his truck. Steve coaxes his girl on his lap while Sam spreads across two blankets cuddling a bowl of popcorn.

Your phone vibrates on your leg, and you pick up it. Looking down, you see a very obscene pic of Bucky. Your body's reaction is instantaneous, your panties drenched. Holy fuck, you can’t, you can’t, the thought repeating in your head as you clutch your phone.

You toss your head back as you fight the urge to scream.

Your pussy throbbing uncomfortably in your shorts, you close your eyes but it makes things worse, all you can see is him standing there with his-oh fuck him, fuck him.

Your clit twitches and you have to bite your finger as the ache in your core gets more intense. It should not be this easy for him to affect you but what he's doing is just-oh fuck him. Shifting in your seat, your thighs are sticking together and you're seconds from sliding off the chair.

You gingerly grab your phone, peeking at it before curling your hand into a fist. Fuck him. You knew he was up to something; you knew it but that, oh fuck him.

You look over to see him perched on the back of his truck, a beer in one hand, his unlaced combat boots tapping along to the music, his blue eyes focused on you. You sneer at him, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. He scrunches his nose at you, a wide grin slowly creeping over his bearded face.

Fuck him.

You watch as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, his hand rubbing his thigh. Yeah, you’re going to fuck him. You stand up, telling a blithe Marcie that you’ll be right back.

Glancing over your shoulder, Marcie sends you a knowing look, waving a 20 dollar bill in the air. You drop your head and trudge to Bucky, ignoring the wave of laughter behind you. Fuck him.

Ignoring his outstretched arms, you climb in the back of his truck with a disgruntled huff.

Bucky takes a sip of his beer before tossing the bottle into the grass. “Gorgeous, I missed you-” His innocent, light tone sets your frayed nerves on fire.

“Bucky, I swear on everything if you don’t get in here right now.” You warn, narrowing your eyes at him.

Bucky places his hand on his chest, tilting his head to the side. "Did something happen?" He asks softly, "you need my help?"

His darkening blue eyes drop to your crotch ruining his efforts to look affronted. You hiss his name and he gets in, laughing when you grab him by his leather jacket, pulling him down for a kiss. He grabs the side of the truck to keep from falling on you, his soft lips slotting overs yours.

Reaching around his head, you grab a handful of his hair and bring him closer, your tongue sweeping across his. You nearly lose yourself in the feel of his mouth, soft and dominating as he deepens the kiss.

Then that pic flashes behind your closed eyes and you pull away with a groan, ignoring the way he pouts when you dodge his lips.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” you screech, lightly slapping his chest before sliding your hands under his shirt over the ridges of his warm smooth abs.

“You get on my nerves,” you state, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. “I’m deleting your number and I’m blocking you.”

Bucky folds his hands behind his head, running his tongue across his teeth. “You liked it huh gorgeous.”

You pull down his zipper, reaching into his boxers to grab his cock. “When did you even take that, and how in the hell are you so hard already?” You demand your rant fizzling when you get him out. You’re still not used to just how big he is.

Fuck him.

Bucky chuckles, loving the way you’re staring at his cock, the tip already swollen and leaking.

“What do you mean, ‘how I am so hard’? He scoffs, shrugging off his jacket and putting on the bed of the truck. “You breathe in my direction and I get hard."

Bucky grabs your waist and guides you down over it. He takes off his shirt and balls up, putting it under your head. “You smile at me, and I want to kneel at your feet and eat your pussy until you pass out or I suffocate.” He states slowly as if he’s confused that you don’t already know this.

“This- he says, grinding his large hand over your clothed pussy “-is all your fault.”

Your face burns as he continues to describe how many ways you get him hard without even trying in between helping you wiggle out of your shorts and panties.

“You’re so damn perfect.” He sighs, "Love you so damn much."

You hear the crowd cheer, the rambunctious sounds drowning out your wanton moans as he sinks into you, your hands scrambling over his firm back. That first thrust always takes your breath away. Bucky dips his head down to kiss your lips, swallowing your gasp as he bottoms out, stretching you around his thick cock.

He's so deep you feel him everywhere.

He shifts his weight onto his forearms and he eases out of you, languidly making you feel each warm solid inch until only the tip remains inside your spasming walls. “Bucky,” you groan, smoothing your hands down his back to grab his ass. “C’mon baby, fuck me”

He smiles against your lips, “whatever you want gorgeous.” And he slams his hips into yours, the truck rattling as you cry out.

His pace is rapid, frenzied and it’s everything you need right now, the coil in your belly forming almost instantly. His pelvis grinding over your swollen bud with each precise thrust. You wrap your legs around him, digging your heels into his back.

“Damn, doll.” He gruffly chuckles when you clench down, “why I am so hard, this tight wet pussy is why I’m so hard.”

The wet sloshing of your cunt getting louder as the music dies down. Dull thuds of shoes catch your attention even as your eyes roll back. The truck swaying violently as he pounds your soaked pussy.

“Fuck, my pretty girl doesn’t want to let me go,” he grunts. “I can’t-”

You slap your hand over his mouth, your eyes widening when the sounds get closer. Bucky quirks his brow when you put your hand on his stomach, whispering for him to be quiet. No one keeps him from his pussy. He grabs your wrist, pining it up above your head.

The conversation outside the truck dwindles as they notice the rocking back and forth.

His strokes don’t falter.

Bucky raises his head, nodding at them as you crouch under him, trying to hold in your moans and cries.

He grabs the side of the truck, using the leverage to fuck you even harder. “Keep moving, I’m not stopping,” he declares to your embarrassment.

You hear a faint wow.

You whimper as he hits your spot, your free hand raking down his back. He strikes it again, turning his face to you “Have a good night, I know I am.”

“Bucky!” You squeal out, you're not sure if it's because of the way his cock is dragging over your sweet spot or the fact that he repeats his statement, staring at them until they walk away.

When you whimper his name again, he smiles down at you. “Oh, you’re not having a good night gorgeous?.”

Your stomach drops as he lowers his head. “That’s not what I said-oh fuck.” You gasp, his angle changing just enough to make you see stars.

Bucky lets go of your hand, his fingers twirling around your clit, his hips snapping into you, pushing you up the bed of the truck until you can’t go any further. “Cum for me, doll, I want you to have a good night, what kind of man would I be if you didn't-.”

“Have. A. Good. Night.” Using his hips to punctuate each word, your belly tensing in, your slick walls clamping down on his throbbing cock as the coil breaks, white-hot pleasure burning through you. “That’s my good girl, that its, cum all over my cock, there you go.”

You writhe under him, screaming his name as he continues his furious pace. The pleasure becoming more intense, hotter, and hotter until you gush around him.

“Good girl,” He praises, thrusting into you a few more times before dropping his forehead on yours, moaning your name as his strokes weaken. Oh, you love watching him lose himself in your body, the way his face contorts with pleasure has your ego swelling. You rub his back, watching his mouth drop open, his harsh pants washing over you until warmth spreads in your core.

“Fuck, fu-” His eyes squeeze shut as he grinds into you before collapsing as you smile up at the clear night sky.

He stays like that for a minute, placing lazy kisses along your throat and shoulder until he softens. Your hands trailing up and down his back as the aftershocks spark in you. Your body trembling from the pleasure fading away.

“You good?” He asks, rolling off of you. “Cause I am.” He chuckles, wiping your forehead off with the back of his hand.

"Best concert ever-"Your voice trails off, it's so quiet. You don't hear anything but his breathing. The silence is almost deafening as you return to your senses.

How long has it been this quiet? That means they heard-

Dragging your hand down your face, you mutter "fuck you, Bucky."

Bucky begins to retort that you just did, stopping at the sharp click of drumsticks hitting.

“And we’re dedicating this to the couple getting lucky in the parking lot, one, two,” the leader screams into the microphone, the crowd cheering as the music restarts.

Fuck him.

You plop your forearm over your eyes, mortification twisting its way through every fiber of your being.

Bucky lifts your arm with a hopeful grin. “You know, since it's dedicated to us, we should probably go one more round-," ignoring your pained groan, he presses himself into your side, "you know, to be respectful.”

You look at your grinning biker in disbelief.

“How are you hard?” You screech when his cock slaps your thigh.

Bucky gives you a pointed stare, his hand drifting to your cunt. “You need to blame your pussy, not me.” He shrugs, "take it up with her."

“Now let’s see how many times you can cum before the song ends.”

Your fuzzy brain screamed at you as you tried to recall the events of the previous night, but it was just a drunken blur, and thinking back was causing too much strain.

Looking around the room, you spotted your jeans on the floor, and as you slipped out from the cover, they caught on your foot. You dropped with a thud and grimaced at the pain shooting through your knees. A quick glance at the man in the bed showed him to be still settled and undisturbed. You audibly sighed in relief, then clamped a hand over your mouth when he turned over onto his back, but thankfully, he remained asleep.

That was when you looked at his face for the first time, his body no longer concealed.

It was James Barnes, your best friend’s boyfriend’s roommate. And there he was, lying on the bed that you had only been in just a few minutes prior. The next thing you saw was the mouth-watering abs that peeked from his top that had accidentally raised during his sleepy movement.

Your eyes involuntarily went wide.

Oh no, oh no no no no!

You internally berated yourself as you tried to remember, how could you have been that drunk? To not even remember how you ended up here, at all?

A wave of nausea roused the memory of tequila and many, many other shots that were well past the count you had tried to keep. That was all on Natasha and Sam.

But this whole situation was a completely inaccessible memory and more than likely your fault. Of course, you had a crush on him, but this was most definitely nothow you wanted to go about it. You wished that you’d at least be able to remember 'the deed' if anything did happen.

Finally, you succeeded in untangling yourself from the sheets and were able to gather up your clothes from various parts of the room. You ducked out of the bedroom, slowly pulling the door close to not make any noise.

It felt comical trying to tiptoe from the bedroom to the bathroom, you knew the route easily enough from your many visits with Natasha to see her now-boyfriend Steve, but with the unconscious bodies sprawled out everywhere in the hallway randomly, it was a little more difficult.

Luckily enough, the people who were crashing on the couch and floor weren’t anyone you recognised, but you couldn't be too careful when you were doing the walk of shame.

You spotted your satchel next to the TV and grabbed it before you dived into the bathroom, locking the door. A wave of relief washed over you.

You’d made it to a place that could be considered neutral. Nobody had seen you sneak out of James’ room, so it was as if you had never been in there… if you didn't tell anyone, of course.

Once you pulled on your outfit from the night before, you shoved the borrowed top and boxers into your bag. Fortunately, it had been a casual party, so simple jeans and a t-shirt were appropriate. You had the decency to wash his clothes before you returned them, but you’d have to think of a way to bring it back, maybe Natasha or Steve would help.

All of that you'd think about later because right now, all you wanted was some painkillers, a gallon of water and your own warm, comfy bed.

Unfortunately, there was only one issue, and it was the shape of your converse. You groaned and glared at the solo sneaker on the bathroom floor, swearing to yourself that you had grabbed both.

Even though you tried to think of a way to get home without your second shoe, you knew it was difficult, if not impossible to walk through New York with nothing on your feet. You had a little more dignity than that, not that you were showing it with how you’d woken up in a man’s bed with no recollection of how it happened.

With a quick splash of cold water on your face and a deep breath later, you were ready to find the missing item as quickly as possible. You twisted the lock with a soft click and slowly walked out of the room, your socks muffling the sound of your footsteps. If anyone could see you now, you looked exactly like a creeping villain in the Scooby-Doo cartoons.

After a few minutes of looking around the living room and kitchen, you realised that the only logical place it could be was in James’ room... and it was the last place you wanted to go back to.

The embarrassment of not remembering and dealing with the whole 'morning after' talk, just wasn’t something you wanted to deal with in your current fragile condition.

You tip-toed to his door and gently pushed it open, peering in ever so slightly and noticing James was still fast asleep on the bed, rolled back over with the sheets wrapped around him like a burrito. Your stomach sank with disappointment - you wouldn’t mind seeing his face and that little delicious sliver of torso again, but you reminded yourself that now was not the time to whine, you had a mission at hand.

One - Get the converse.

Two - Get out.

Three - Hope that James doesn't remember anything... or at the very least, has the decency to not bring it up the next time you see each other.

You snuck around the room, which was a lot cleaner now that the sheets had been moved back onto the bed and around him. You’d find the shoe in no time, for sure.

Which, of course, wouldn't happen. Luck was not on your side today.

You huffed as you dropped to your knees once more to check under the bed. A glimmer of hope came in the familiar silhouette of your shoe just out of reach, so you flattened down and stretched out your arm. A blur of white fluff whizzed past you with the laces between her teeth, dragging the converse to the other side of the bed.

You instantly straightened up and hit your head on the edge of the bed frame, making you wince. The pain made the thumping in your head ten times worse, and you decided that now was as good a time as any for the floor to split open and swallow you whole. You rolled onto your back and stayed there with your eyes closed, waiting for the inevitability of James waking up.

“Alpine, give Y/N her shoe back.” A deep gravelly voice came from the bed, it was stern but gentle for a scolding.

You stealthily peeked an eye open and saw that James was sitting up against the headboard, a soft smile on his lips. His hair was in an adorable fluffy mess, sticking down on one side from where he'd slept on it. The sheets were pooling at his waist, and you couldn’t help but ogle at the cotton top that was tightening across his chest and biceps before you forced yourself to look away.

“Looking for this?” James asked huskily pointing to the converse being held protectively by Alpine.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” You reached over and grabbed the converse before Alpine could get her claws on it again, “and yeah, I was looking for this. Um, about last night-”

"-Don't worry about it,” James interrupted.

You shook your head, “please let me finish. I just want you to know that this,” - you gestured between you two with your index - “wasn't something I thought would happen, and erm, I'm not really sure what this means.”

You looked away, the embarrassment heating up your cheeks as you tried to ignore the nerves causing your stomach to flip instead of the alcohol.

“Nothing happened,” James commented, supposedly agreeing without much concern.

You twisted around to look at him with a raised eyebrow, not sure if you had heard correctly, “What do you mean?”

James smiled, a dimple forming on his cheek as he recalled the previous night’s events.

Bucky couldn’t believe his eyes, it was only the third time he had met you but there you were with Alpine on the sofa, the cat neatly snuggled in your lap.

He wasn’t sure what to think or do, or who he was more jealous of.

Was he jealous of you? The way his cat had made a connection with you quicker than any of his friends, apart from Steve but he lived in the apartment too, it was a given.

Or was he jealous of Alpine? The way the cat had so easily wormed her way into your heart, and how your fingers gently stroked through the white fur.

He was jealous of you both, he concluded to himself. He would never admit how he felt for you. His friends had already ridiculed him for his crush and Steve had consistently encouraged him to get to know you better, to do something about it. He always chickened out, you were way out of his league and probably didn’t feel the same about him.

But tonight, had been different, he could feel your presence more than ever before.

It was in the way your eyes lingered on his face a few seconds longer or the way you sent him a sheepish smile when he’d catch you staring. Your laughter made him feel warm and the attempt to dance in the kitchen was a sight to behold, even if he could tease you about the terrible dance moves later.

Bucky noticed you were too drunk when you started stumbling around the living room and slurring your words. He signalled to Steve, and he came over instantly, “Think we need to put this one to bed.”

Steve nodded, “Come on, Y/N, it’s time for you to rest your little head. Your room okay, Buck? I’d offer mine but Nat’s staying over tonight.”

Bucky gulped inaudibly but nodded, helping Steve carry your out-of-balance body to his bedroom.

You were going to be in his bedroom, on his bed, sleeping? He didn’t know if he’d be able to cope with you so close and he knew that the couch was off-limits. Sam lived on that thing whenever he dropped in saying it was the best part of the whole apartment.

Steve gently placed you onto Bucky's bed, and you attempted to remove your t-shirt, which Steve immediately stopped. The growl you gave him made Bucky chuckle and call your attention straight to him.

“I can’t sleep in my clothes.” You whined, the blank look in your eyes making you look even more adorable with the little pout.

“Well, you can wear these, if you want.” Bucky pulled out a top and boxers and threw them your way and he swore that you grinned at him, but your face was hidden in an instant as you slumped onto Steve’s shoulder.

“Okay boys, let me sort her out.” Natasha appeared in the doorway, making a beeline for her best friend.

Steve and Bucky headed back into the party, the latter heading straight to the kitchen to get another beer, to hopefully help him forget about the beautiful woman lying in his bed and how, at some point tonight, he’d have to join her if he didn't want a backache from sleeping on the floor.

Upon his return to the lounge, Natasha was already sitting in Steve’s lap and with a quick glance down the hallway, Bucky saw that his bedroom door was closed. But another surprise was Alpine pawing at the wood panel.

Bucky’s heart melted at the sight of his cat pining for the person behind the door, and he decided what the harm would be in letting Alpine check in on you, for the former's sake of course. He slowly opened the door, hoping not to disturb you if you were asleep.

Alpine instantly rushed past him and jumped up onto the bed. She did a little walk around before settling by your feet at the end of the mattress. Bucky’s mouth went dry and was unable to move from his spot. If you had super hearing, you’d be able to hear his heart thumping in his chest at the sight of you hugging onto his pillow, wearing his clothes.

Looking like you were his.

Bucky pulled a blanket over your legs then shuffled back to look at you and Alpine. Maybe one day, he’ll have the courage to ask you on a date. And maybe, just maybe, Alpine would be the catalyst to whatever might happen between you two…

Bucky clarified that there was no funny business and that you just went to sleep, “And that’s what you get for mixing your drinks without proper supervision, I warned you that Sam could be a menace.”

You remained silent and chewed your lip, appreciating the way he’d looked out for you when most people wouldn’t. It warmed your heart at the thought of him being the one to care, the uncertainty that painted your features was replaced with a smile, even if you were still mortified by your drunken antics.

“But I see now that waking up in a stranger's bed might have made you panic.” James rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly then got off the bed, putting on a pair of jeans.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You muttered, the heat on your cheeks sizzling from your embarrassing behaviour, “but thank you, for not letting me make a fool of myself, well, more than I already did.”

“S’all good.” James grinned.

You stood up, not quite sure what to do next. With your bag hung over your shoulder, you headed to the door, “Well, I guess I’ll be off then, goodbye James.”

“You can call me, Bucky. It’s what friends call me.” He commented.

“Well, if you consider me a friend,” You looked back at him with a small smile, “see you around, Bucky.”

You did hope that you’d see him again because, even though you tried to fight it, your little crush on the man was growing with each second that you spent in his company.

A soft small body began weaving between your legs, “oh hey, Alpine.”

“She does that when she's hungry, I’ll see you out.” Bucky motioned out into the hallway like a gentleman.

Bucky stopped abruptly and you almost collided into his side, your hand immediately grabbing his arm in surprise. You couldn’t help admiring the thick muscle underneath and you subconsciously bit your lip.

“About time,” Steve sighed, sipping from a coffee mug, in his spot on the couch, “We thought we’d have to send Thor in to wake you both.”

Natasha chuckled and put an arm around Steve’s waist, “I’ve seen how Y/N is first thing in the morning, wouldn’t risk sending him in. He’d come back like a mewling quim.”

You dropped your hand from Bucky’s arm, but it wasn't long before he interlaced his fingers with yours. You looked up at him, heart thumping in your chest and he winked, legit winkedat you.

He headed straight for the kitchen and literally pulled you along with him. You caught Natasha’s mouth drop in surprise, which later turned into an impressed smirk as you shrugged in her direction with a grin.

Alpine remained at your ankles until Bucky placed the bowl on her designated mat, and she instantly nudged his hand out of the way and began eating, leaving you and Bucky in the kitchen in awkward silence. That was until your stomach began to grumble, very loudly, like it always did in situations like this.

Bucky gave you a lopsided smile, “Do you wanna grab some breakfast? I’m starving too.”

His eyes looked so stunning that you could get lost in them. You already had done that, if you were being honest, on the rare occasion that you were close enough to see the brilliant blues, just like now.

You grinned back and nodded, a little too eagerly at first, then you laughed, “yeah, that would be nice.”

“It’s a date then,” Bucky winked, again, setting off the butterflies in your stomach, “there’s a great diner a couple of blocks away.”

Steve shouted from the hallway, “Tash, we’re going to Peggy’s Diner. You owe me ten bucks, he finally asked her!”

You both groaned and rolled your eyes at the intrusion, but really, you couldn’t complain as you were still able to spend more time with Bucky.

He pulled you closer to him by your waist, whispering in your ear that caused a shiver to run up your spine, “I’ll take you on a proper date later, just us. Promise.”

fin.

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated💕

Firefly’s Masterlist

Tag List; want to join? Just fill out this form.

Strikethrough - unable to tag :(

“You’ll stay here, and I’ll make sure your fine alpha knows Steve Rogers got his sweet little omega in his clutches,” the tall alpha crouches down next to you to fist your hair. He forces you to look at him, smirking when your lips tremble and fresh tears roll down your cheeks. “Did you listen?”

“Y-yes,” you sniffle silently. “Please don’t hurt me. I won’t cause any trouble to you. I’m a good omega,” Steve nods thoughtfully at your obedient behavior, liking you try to please him. “Please.”

“Be good, sit here and wait for me to come back. Rumlow will never see you again,” he leans closer to nudge your cheek with his nose, inhaling your scent deeply.

“He won’t miss me,” whispering you hope the alpha won’t hurt you. “Please, I don’t know why you took me, but he’ll hurt me. Brock will think it’s my fault you stole me.”

“Stole you, huh?” Steve grins when you look at him with doe eyes. “Why didn’t he claim you? Your mating gland is still untouched, omega.”

“He didn’t want me,” while the alpha noses his way down your neck your body trembles. Scared you push against his chest when Steve grazes your mating gland with his teeth. Brock will not hesitate to kill you if the stranger breaks the mating gland and marks you.

“If I bite you, he’ll go rampant. I bet he’ll try to kill me if I do so,” pushing you off him Steve snarls in your direction. “Don’t think I’ll not kill you only as you are an omega. Rare or not, you will not poison me with your scent.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you cry, shaking in fear at Steve’s demeanor. “It was you kidnapping me. Why did you just take me?”

“Not another word or I’ll gag you,” the alpha threatens, and you slump into yourself. “You are nothing but a piece of shit to me. If you only blink, I’ll kill you. Got it!”

He stares daggers into your skull. Hands balled into fists the alpha waits for your reply. His chest heaves up and down and you know, he’s no one you should mess with.

“I asked you a question and expect you to answer,” he growls, nostrils flaring.

“I got it,” you whimper again. “I’ll not blink or even breathe.”

“Good. Stay there. Do not move. Shut your mouth,” he walks toward the door, growling when you start to cry. “I said shut your mouth.”

“’m sorry. I can’t stop it, alpha. I’m scared,” curling into a ball onto the cold floor your hide your head under your arms. 

“Scared,” he almost feels pity for you when your body starts to shake. Silent whimpers catch his ears, and he swallows thickly before he turns away from you. “Even better.”

Steve slams the door shut; makes you flinch at the force.

“Anything from Rumlow yet?” Steve looks at his phone, frowning deeply. “Why doesn’t he reply? We got his omega.”

“I hate to break it for you, darling,” Tony sneers, looking at one of the monitors to watch you cry uncontrollably, “but Rumlow never wanted the girl. I heard rumors about a deal being made between him and her uncle. One condition was that Rumlow takes care of his niece, but that bastard was more into someone else.”

“What the actual fuck!” Bucky rams his metal fist into the wall, growling low in his throat. “I kidnapped the poor girl for nothing? Why didn’t you give us the damn information before I went out there to grab the girl?”

“I didn’t know you would go after her,” Tony huffs when Steve checks on his phone. “Anything yet from our favorite bastard?”

“He sent me a message,” growling low in his throat Steve slams the phone onto the table. “Rumlow says I can keep her. Or do him a favor and kill her. That sick bastard thinks it’s funny to toy with the girl’s life.”

“I told you he’s not going to give in anytime soon. Not for an omega,” Stark rolls his eyes when Steve gives him a dirty look. “Don’t look at me like that, boss. Not every alpha would kill or even die for an omega.”

“I would’ve killed and died for Peggy,” for a moment Steve allows himself to be weak and remember his first omega, the one Rumlow killed when he tried to blow Steve’s car. “What now? I can’t let the girl go.”

“Uh—I’d like to have a new omega. Jane and I broke up again. Give the girl to me, boss,” Thor rumbles. “I liked her scent. She’s sweet and obedient. A perfect little thing to claim and fill with pups.”

“You won’t lay a finger on that omega,” Steve is in Thor’s face seconds later. He pants heavily, even growls. “If anyone claims and knots that girl, it’s me. Keep your greedy hands to yourself.”

“Whoa, calm down, punk,” watching his friend poke his index finger into Thor’s chest Bucky smirks. “If you want that sweet omega, just tell us so. Rumlow doesn’t want her back so, have fun.”

“Steve, you shouldn’t have fun with that girl,” Tony warns. “You know, her uncle won’t be amused hearing Rumlow let you kidnap and hurt her. What if someone tells him you saved the girl and keep her safe?”

“I must say,” Steve smirks devilish, already grasping for his phone, “you don’t look like much, but you are smart, Stark. Now call her uncle and tell him his sweet niece is safe in my arms or bed. Whatever he prefers…”

“Stop shaking and blow your nose,” Steve barks when you hide in the corner of the room, praying he’ll not hurt you as Brock did before. “Fuck, come here and sit on the bed.” 

“I’m good over here,” you whisper, eyes darting from Steve to the still-open door. “Will you hand me over now?” tears roll down your cheeks when Steve steps closer, holding out his hand for you to take. 

“I won’t give you back to that bastard,” the alpha huffs when you jump up to wrap your arms around his waist. You bury your face in his chest, crying uncontrollably. This time the tears are tears of joy. “He’s a bastard, don’t be sad.”

“’m not sad,” you shyly look up at Steve, giving him a cracked smile before holding tight onto the tall alpha for dear life. “Everything is better than being with Brock. He’s a monster.”

“Doll,” the alpha whispers, carefully parting you from his warm body. You whine, wanting to feel his warmth for longer. “What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?”

“He always told me that I’m only alive to keep my uncle happy,” you grasp for Steve again. This time the alpha gives in and lets you hide your face in his chest to inhale his scent. “Why do I feel calm even though you scared me?”

“What did he do to you, omega?” Steve watches you rub your cheek into his chest, moaning when you catch his scent. “Answer me.”

Your head whips upward to meet the alpha’s gaze. “He kept me locked away most of the time. Rumlow always told me he doesn’t want me. Yesterday I sneaked out and tried to escape and that’s when that guy with the metal hand jumped onto my car and ripped the windshield off my car.”

“Did he touch you?” a guttural noise leaves Steve’s throat when you shake your head. “He didn’t knot you? Why?” looking at you cling to his body Steve frowns. “Omega, answer me.” 

“Rumlow barely was at home. When he came back to the place he called my new home Brock always was with a woman. I don’t know her name but she’s beautiful,” you mumble. “She had flaming red hair and smelled like an alpha, not an omega.”

“Rumlow likes to fuck alphas huh? Interesting,” Steve carefully grips your shoulders to get a better look at you. Your hair a mess, face, hands, and legs plastered with scratches, and your clothes dirty you look like you got under the bus. “Do you have more information for me?”

“He does business with my uncle, but I guess you already know that,” he runs one hand over your hair, tries to pat your head but you flinch away at his touch. “Please don’t—”

“I won’t hurt you, doll. We gotta get you cleaned up,” Steve furrows his brows, realizing he doesn’t even know your name. “What’s your name, omega?”

“Y/N,” you whisper shyly. “Can I go now? If you don’t want to give me back to Rumlow, can you not let me go?”

“Sorry, but you’re safer with me,” the alpha hides he wants to get into your uncle’s good graces but those are unimportant details you don’t need to know. “I’ll show you the bathroom and you can clean yourself up. Let me get you some clean clothes too. It’s late and you need sleep.”

“I’m not a kid,” you growl, eyes narrowed. “Why does everyone believe they can walk all over me and push me around? I’m an omega and should be treated better. We are rare and precious.”

“Little kitten showed her claws,” Steve cups your chin with his large palm, forces you to hold his intense gaze until you shyly drop your eyes. “How about you have a shower or a bath and I’ll not spank your ass until you can’t sit properly.”

“Rude.”

“Cute,” he muses while swiping his thumb over your lower lip. “I think you need a strong hand to tame you, wild little kitten. I guess you are my omega from now on. Rumlow can’t have you back. Now be good and clean yourself up. You reek.”

“I do not—” you cry. “That maniac dragged me out of my car, forced me to run through town, and pushed me into your arms. If I reek it’s your men’s fault. I stink like alphas and smoke.”

“Go. And. Have. A. Shower,” Steve enounces every word, finger poking your chest. “Be good and you’ll get something to wear. Be bad and you’ll sleep naked next to me.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I can be even crueler if you don’t stop arguing. Where is the scared girl from before?” you shrug, eyes glued to your feet now. “Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m still scared…”

“Good. Now go to the bathroom…”

Steve purrs low in his throat when you step out of the bathroom, wearing one of his shirts. It’s much too big for you but to him, you look adorable in the worn-out fabric.

“You smell much better,” he grins when you give him an angry look. “Come here and sleep a bit. I need to keep an eye on you. I dare you to try anything.”

“I’m not stupid,” you slowly walk toward the bed, looking at the tall alpha. “You’re big, bulky, and strong. How should I ever stand a chance against you? Alphas are aggressive and deadly. I don’t want to die.”

“Bulky?” laughing Steve pats the empty side of the bed. “I would call myself well-built or muscular, not bulky.”

“Well-built,” giggling you sit on the bed. Steve seems to switch moods every five minutes. One moment he’s angry and aggressive and the next, he looks at you with soft eyes. “He tried to—once.”

“Tried what? OH—that bastard,” the alpha balls his hands into fists when you tell him Brock tried to force himself on you. “I should kill him. Maybe I’ll rip him apart limb by limb.”

“Why do you hate him that much? Did he steal your car or something?” you ask, glancing at Steve whose features sadden. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“He killed my mate, my Peggy. We were newly mated and married days ago. Rumlow put a bomb under my car. That day, Peggy’s car didn’t start, and I gave her mine,” Steve’s voice cracks, and you jump at him to wrap him in a hug.

“That’s so sad,” you sniffle. “It must’ve been painful to lose your mate. You must’ve loved her so much.”

“How do you know?” Steve asks when you curl on his lap to hide your face in his chest. “Y/N, you should not get used to me. When this is over, you are free to go.”

“You are still wearing your ring, that’s how I knew you loved her so much,” sliding your fingertips over the golden band you sigh. “No one will ever feel so much love for me. I’m a bit odd.”

“Odd—right,” Steve clears his throat, not wanting you to know he likes to feel you against him. “Let’s sleep and we can talk about bringing Brock down tomorrow. I want you to know that no one is going to hurt you at my place but, I’m in charge. If you only breathe wrong…”

“I’m dead, I got it,” Steve scares the shit out of you but this doesn’t stop you from sniffing at his neck before you move toward your side of the bed. “I won’t mess with you…”

>> Part 2

"Just do it, I dare ya," Bucky urged, a drawl in his tone due to the Asgardian mead he had mixed in his glass.

A drunken man was singing Montero in the background, his just-as-trashed boyfriend cheering him on. It was funny for the first minute but he was singing everything except the chorus wrong and out of tune. 

You wondered if anyone else wanted to snatch the mic out of his hands like you did. 

Adding to your annoyance, Bucky continued, "C'mon doll, all you have to do is sing the song! It will be fun."

You shook your head at him as you sat on the stool in front of the counter of the bar, him taking the seat next to you. "When did you even start listening to Taylor Swift anyway?"

"Spider kid sent me his Spotify playlist - oh, I see what you're trying to do here, Y/N. Don't try to change the topic." He wiggled his index finger in front of your face that you tried swatting away but the damn super soldier was too fast. 

"Listen, Sam and I have a bet that I could get you to sing it, and if I can't, I'll lose money along with my pride. You don't want your best friend to go bankrupt, do you?" He added dramatically. 

"I don't even sing that well, Bucky." You tried to deter him, but Bucky Barnes was on a mission that he would do anything to complete.

"You know you have a good voice, even Steve complimented you - in case you forgot."

You tried to ignore him by downing the shot in one go and ordered another with a wave of your hand, taking full advantage of the fact that Bucky - Sam's best man, was going to pay for all of the tabs of your friends tonight.

"Maybe I should let Sam win just out of spite. It's his bachelor party, it will be my gift to him." Bucky gave you a 'seriously?' look and you smiled in victory.

The little shit, still not giving up, kept on pestering you, trying to put you on a guilt trip. "I hope you won't mind me bunking on your sofa then, since you'll be responsible for my poverty. Oh, you'll also have to pay for the groceries, Alpine's food - the best quality, mind you, she won't eat anything else, and -"

"We live in the Avengers compound, you dumbass. There's no need to invade my privacy, we don't even pay rent." You sighed, a sad smile tugging on your lips. "And you do understand that I know what you two are trying to do, right? It's not gonna work. He's not interested."

Your eyes involuntarily fell upon the booth where the blond man was sitting, frowning to yourself when you saw that there was a woman in a little black dress looking stunning who had perched herself on the corner of Steve's table.

From what you could tell, he was chuckling at something she had said, doing his full-body laugh as he rested a hand on his heart. The woman was pretty and confident, with an added bonus of being normal - something you knew Steve craved but you could never fill the role.

You quickly shifted your gaze back to Bucky when Steve suddenly looked at you.

Bucky made a 'tutting' noise. "Y/N, look. There's an undeniable connection between you two, and everyone can see that, except for you idiots for some reason."

You pouted at him before drinking another glass of alcohol in one big gulp. "And why do you think this will help?"

"Look at this as an outlet if nothing else. If Steve gets his head out of his ass, then great. Otherwise, it will be like taking a burden off your shoulders without confessing outright. God knows how long you've been keeping your feelings bottled in."

Yup, Bucky had managed to convince you. Maybe the liquor had helped but this seemed like a great idea. "Just like a burden taken off, right?"

You hadn't been more than a bit tipsy so you managed not to stumble your way to the small stage in the set up in the corner of the bar. It was karaoke night and you knew Bucky had ulterior motives in picking this place for the party tonight. 

You made your way to the guy near the stage who was in the bar's uniform, Nathan his tag read, and whispered the name of the song you were going to sing. 

"Okay, just walk directly onto the mark over there and don't drop the mic." He said nonchalantly. 

Was the song too common of a choice for his indifference or was it the girls with unrequited love like you that he was used to? 

You took a deep breath in, blinking as you stepped into the spotlight which were shittily installed in a way that would make anyone blind. 

When your eyes finally adjusted, you peeked first at Bucky who gave you an encouraging thumbs up, and then at Sam who looked at you amusedly yet raised his beer, egging you on. You made it a point to not let your gaze wander to where you knew Steve was. 

"Hi guys! I'll be singing You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift."

There were a few hoots and cheers as you started singing the first verse, mentally thanking your younger self for memorising the song. 

"All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me?

You belong with me..."

You opened your eyes when the last word of the song tumbled out of your lips, not realizing that you had closed them in the first place. There was a moment of silence before it was replaced by thunderous claps, making you surprised and blush.

You bowed, but when you stood up straight, your eyes landed directly on the beautiful blue ones which plagued your dreams, muting the sound around you.

His stare on you was so intense that you thought you would combust if you stayed there any longer.

So you hurried to hand the mic back to Nathan before scurrying to the bathroom and locking the door behind you, leaning against it as you panted, suddenly feeling sober.

Did you feel like the burden was finally off? Not at all.

It had felt like Steve was looking directly at your soul, making you feel naked and vulnerable, every thought and emotion laid in front of him like a buffet without you having anything to to defend yourself.

And for that reason, you simply couldn't face him again.

Just as you were trying to figure out if there was a way to jump out of the small window in the bathroom, there were three successive knocks on the door, followed by two short ones and the pattern repeated once more. 

"Doll, you okay?" Came Bucky's voice from the other side. You swallowed down the lump that had formed in your throat, which was now dry, before answering him. 

"Where is she, Buck? Where's Y/N?" Steve asked, stopping you from talking.

"It's not a good time right now, Steve." He softly spoke, trying to dissuade him. 

Which was unsuccessful, by the way. 

"You don't understand. It's really important that I talk to her now, that she knows." Steve replied, his voice was a bit shaky but sounded sure of himself. "Was it for me? Was the song about me, Bucky?"

You wanted to cringe, but your best friend knew the right things to say at the correct situation. 

"I can't tell you that. Best friends code and all that." You made a mental note to buy Alpine her favorite treats the first thing tomorrow. 

Steve groaned at his response. "But how can I tell her that I love her if I don't know for sure that she feels the same? No, do you think I should say I like her instead? Don't wanna overwhelm her. But I know my feelings are stronger than just liking her, maybe I can -"

You knew Steve tended to ramble when he was nervous, so you smiled to yourself, your hand reaching out for the handle as you couldn't stop yourself anymore. 

Not hesitating even once, you pushed the door to Steve's horror and Bucky's mirth. 

"Do you really love me?" You inquired shyly, the burst of adrenaline gone now that you were standing in front of him. 

"More than you know." Steve breathed out. For a second, Bucky was worried that the former was gonna have a heart attack. "But you don't have to say anything right now, take your time, think about it as long as you want -"

"I love you too." You shook your head at his adorableness as you bit your lip. "But what about that woman you were talking to? She isn't an avenger, just a civilian, just what you want."

"She's a fan of Captain America, doll. She doesn't hold a candle to you. What I need is someone who knows me and loves me as I am, not the version the media showcases me as."

You took a shaky breath as he continued. "I need you."

In the very next moment, Steve's lips crushed into yours passionately, trying to make up for the time you had lost while pining for each other. His tongue asked for entrance with a delicate lick on your bottom lip which you allowed without a second thought. 

"My job here is done," Bucky smirked to himself, going unnoticed by you and Steve, his smile slipping as time went on without you two separating and making him uncomfortable. "I guess I'll just go."

The reception was beautiful in every right, with Sam looking the happiest you had ever seen. 

You were currently dancing with him, slow to the beat of the song. "You two are disgusting, you know?" He said. 

You glanced at him with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You and Steve, so in love with each other that I was worried you were going to steal my thunder."

You chuckled, hitting him softly. "Nah, it's still your day, and you now get to have your partner for the rest of your life."

"That I do." He muttered, the smile on his face never changing. 

"Sam, can I ask you something?" The man hummed, encouraging you to continue. "Bucky told me about the bet you had."

"The shit can't keep his mouth shut, eh?"

"I guess. What I don't understand is, why did you place a bet on me singing out of all things, anyway?"

His nose scrunched in surprise. "It wasn't about you singing. Barnes had told me that he'll get you and Steve together before my wedding."

"And you placed money against it?" You asked, appalled. 

"Nope, just thought it would take you longer. He won the bet and now you have Steve as your boyfriend, why does it matter?"

"I'll let you off the hook since it's your wedding, but can you answer just one more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"What were the stakes?"

Sam simply shrugged, "ten dollars."

A scowl formed on your face, trying to locate Bucky who you find chatting with Steve near the refreshments table. When your eyes met, Bucky's smile fell and he gave his glass of wine to Steve, gulping as he prepared to run to get a head start.

You smiled sweetly at Sam, pushing him towards his s/o with a smirk and a wink. "Dont mind me. I've got a super soldier to kill."

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

Wanna read more of my works? Check out the masterlist linked at the top!

If you wanna be added to my taglist, click here!

There was a chill in the air that evening, and Bucky smiled when he found you on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and one of his hoodies again. You looked so damn cute that he couldn't stop himself from walking over and settling down beside you, to pull you into his lap. You giggled and allowed it, blanket and all now on top of him.

"Hi baby," you greeted with a grin. "I borrowed your sweater."

"I can see that," he replied with a smirk, a suggestive little grin, and a sparkle in his eyes. You knew Bucky loved seeing you in his clothes, and with the added benefit of his sweaters being extra cozy, when the seasons changed, it was a win-win. But, despite the sweater and the blanket, you were still chilly, so it was a welcome reprieve from the cold when Bucky pulled you into his warm embrace.

“You still feel cold, doll.” You turned in his lap, cuddling against his chest, and his hand dropped to your thigh, rubbing over your skin and trailing upwards, inching under the sweater and over your hip. When he felt the lacy panties you wore underneath, he looked at you with a hungry look, a hunger that you knew and loved, and you smirked back, trailing your fingers over his chest innocently.

“Will you help warm me up, baby?” Bucky’s grip tightened on your hip, and he practically growled, leaning in to peck your lips.

 The moment Bucky walked into the building, he was in awe. The front of the store was full of costumes, dolls, plushies, pirate treasure chests, fairy wings and wands... every kind of fantasy item a child could possibly want and a lot of it looked handmade. Out the back, he could hear squealing and laughter. A party in progress, perhaps?

 “Good afternoon, welcome to Childhood Dreams. How may I help you?” the receptionist asked.

 “Hi. I’m looking to book a party? It’s for my daughter...”

 “I see. Well, before booking a party, you’ll need to make an appointment with Y/N. She likes to customise her parties to the client. She’s currently doing a performance but if you’re happy to wait, she’ll be done soon...”

 “I can wait...”

 “Great. Follow me please...”

 Bucky followed the receptionist into the back. There was a pirate party taking place with all the children dressed up as pirates. There were props and decorations keeping in tone with the theme and an incredible cake. On the stage up the front was the same woman who had played the part of the mermaid at Morgan’s party, this time she was a pirate, enacting a mighty swordfight with another actor. She really put her all into the performance.

 Bucky watched her for a moment before the receptionist pulled him along and guided him to an office along the side. The inside of the office was just as cheerful and childlike as the rest of the place. The desk was lined with small trinkets. Along the walls were various photographs of the woman in different costumes. A princess, a fairy, a friendly witch... there was a costume for every occasion. Bucky was in the middle of admiring them when the door opened and the subject from the photos stepped in.

 “You must be the gentleman wanting a party,” she smiled, taking off her hat and eye patch before sitting at her desk and encouraging him to take a seat. “I’m Y/N.”

 “Yes, that’s right. My name is Bucky and I’m looking to do a birthday party for my daughter Rebecca,” he said, getting his phone out to show her a picture.

 Y/N smiled at the photo of the little girl who was dressed as a princess.

 “Tell me about Rebecca. I take it she’s a princess fan?”

 Bucky’s face lit up as he spoke about his little girl. Everything that she loved about princesses and fairytales, down to her favourite colours, animals and mythical creatures.

 “I’m probably rambling now...”

 “No, no, I think it’s sweet to see a father so dedicated to his daughter. Let me show you a few of our packages,” she smiled.

 Y/N logged into her tablet to show him a few of the princess themed parties they offered. Bucky looked through the options before deciding on a fantasy type one with princesses, wizards and all things in that vein.

 “Will you be having the party here or elsewhere?”

 “I think home would be best... unless... here would be better? I don’t know...”

 “Some children feel more comfortable on home base and some like going out. It’s really up to you. My job is to give your child the best possible experience...”

 Bucky nodded slowly and thought.

 “She might like a party in her own backyard...”

 “That’s totally fine. I’ll need to visit ahead of time just so I can work on a setup. Now, will you be providing your own cake? If not, I can recommend an excellent bakery.”

 “A family friend agreed to make the cake,” Bucky replied.

 Y/N nodded and jotted down a few notes.

 “What about food?”

 “Yes, we’ll be making our own food too.”

 Y/N nodded again and wrote down a few more notes. After agreeing on a price, a date and time to meet, his address and the date of the party, Bucky started heading out the door.

 “One more thing...”

 Bucky turned to look at her.

 “I like to ask our clients how they found out about our business...”

 “A while ago, you threw a mermaid party for a friend of mine’s daughter. Rebecca couldn’t stop talking about it for days after that...”

 Y/N smiled fondly.

 “I see... well, I guess I’ll see you when I come to do my inspection. Goodbye, Bucky.”

 “Bye.”

 As Bucky left the office, he could feel his heart fluttering like it hadn’t done in a long time. Ever since his wife’s passing, Bucky hadn’t even looked at another woman. Well, he had looked but he had always been so busy taking care of Rebecca, he didn’t really have time to be pursuing women. Sure on occasion, he would go on a blind date now and then and Steve would babysit but that would be the extent of it. Bucky thought for sure his dating life was over but talking to Y/N just now... it gave him a lot of hope.

...

 Time went by and eventually the day arrived when you went to meet Bucky at his place. Bucky greeted you at the door with a smile and ushered you inside. Smiling, you looked around the place. Pictures of Bucky’s life lined the walls and shelves. Photos of him with friends but most of them were of his little girl. One thing you noticed was the lack of pictures of the girl’s mother. There were a few of her before having the child but not many after.

 “So, um... what do you need to see?”

 “You mentioned a backyard?” you said, referring back to the interview you had a few days ago.

 Bucky nodded and showed you the way. First, you scoped out the best place to conduct your performance then took out your measuring tape to size up the props you might need. As you worked, Bucky could see the gears turning in your head.

 “Do you go out to different locations a lot?” Bucky asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

 “Not a lot but it’s always fun when we do.”

 “How long have you been in business?”

 “It’s taken me about ten years to get it off the ground. It’s only been gaining popularity in the last year or so...”

 “Wait, so you own Childhood Dreams?”

 “Sure do. You see, I always believed childhood should be about fun and games before going onto the drudgery of adulthood. And I help out local business in the process. Most of the items available for purchase were made by local artists. I’m always willing to lend a hand when they need it. That’s why I ask about food. There’s a small bakery a few blocks from the building we’re located who does the most beautiful cakes...”

 You suddenly were interrupted by something brushing up against your leg. Looking down, you saw the most adorable white cat.

 “Why, hello there. Aren’t you a cutie?” you cooed, bending down to pat the snowy feline.

 “This is Alpine. Rebecca is just crazy about her. She’s been a really big help ever since...” Bucky paused, feeling a lump in his throat and tears well up in his eyes.

 Alpine trotted over to him and purred as he picked her up.

 “Sorry. It’s just... ever since my wife passed when Rebecca was a baby; I’ve wanted to give her the best life possible. I try to give equal amounts of time between her so she can look up to me and work so she has the best things in life...”

 You went over and gave him a hug.

 “You’re a good man, Bucky. I’ve been in this business long enough to tell the devoted parents from the off-standers. Just by spending a few minutes with you, I already know that you love your daughter and think the world of her. Just make sure you spend a few moments taking care of yourself, okay? It doesn’t have to be much, just enough so you feel good too.”

 Bucky gave you a soft smile, knowing that you were right. Everyone had told him as such but sometimes, it’s harder to take advice from the people closest to you.

 “Can I get you anything to drink?” he offered.

 “Actually, I should get going. I’ve got a children’s charity event I need to get ready for. It’s been really nice seeing you again, Bucky. I guess the next time I see you will be for your daughter’s party.”

 “See you then,” Bucky smiled.

 He couldn’t wait for the party.

...

 Finally, the day of Rebecca’s birthday arrived. Bucky had spent the night before busily transforming his humble home into a castle fit for a princess. He wanted everything to be perfect for his little girl’s special day, buying the most glittery, ruffled princess dress for her to wear, complete with a sparkly tiara. Bucky himself hired a prince costume and even managed to obtain a kitty sized dragon costume for Alpine.

 Bucky spent the morning cooking, starting with a plate of pancakes for breakfast before moving onto the finishing touches on the food for the party. He had most of it prepared already but some of it needed heating.

 The first to arrive was Wanda with her twin boys who were both in costume. The boys instantly ran over to play with Rebecca while Wanda was left holding the cake she had made along with her purse and the present she had bought. Bucky rushed over to help her with the items and after exchanging greetings and pleasantries, she showed his the cake.

 It was everything Bucky could have ever hoped for and more. The cake was purple with ice cream cones decorated like castle turrets, topped with little princess and unicorn figurines and the words ‘Happy Birthday, Rebecca’ written in icing along with the age she was turning. Little pink flowers were piped along the sides.

 “Thank you so much, Wanda. Becca’s just going to love it.”

 “You’re welcome,” she smiled, giving him a hug.

 Soon after Wanda’s arrival was Steve and Peggy with their child followed by Tony, Pepper and Morgan, Sam with his kid and it wasn’t long before all the party guests had arrived. The adults all mingled while the children played together happily. Right on time, Y/N arrived with her scene partner in full costume. She was wearing a knight costume while her partner (whom she introduced as Phil) was dressed as an ‘evil’ wizard. Bucky settled the kids in front of the makeshift stage and let the performance begin.

 Y/N started by introducing herself as a knight dedicated to Princess Rebecca.

 “That’s me!” Rebecca squealed in delight, jumping to her feet and clapping.

 Y/N knelt down to be level with her, crossing her right arm over her chest in a salute.

 “I vow to protect you from the evils of the kingdom.”

 Suddenly, Phil jumped out of his hiding place.

 “Mwa-ha-ha! I am an evil wizard and I am here to change all the cakes into broccoli!”

 Bucky thought he was laying it on a little thick but there was a wave of horrified gasps from the kids.

 “Not so fast, evil wizard! We will defeat you! Kids, if I’m going to beat him, I’m going to need your help...”

 Y/N and Phil made an amazing pair. While Y/N encouraged the children and even a few of the parents to join in, Phil played off their reactions until he was ‘defeated’.

 “You win! I will change my evil ways and use my powers for good!” he dramatically cried.

 The children all cheered and clapped. The two actors took a bow and started to pack up as Bucky announced it was time for cake. The kids all raced over to where the cake was being brought out.

 “Would you two like to stay for cake?” Bucky offered.

 Phil looked at Y/N for permission, a hopeful glint in his eye.

 “Sure. We have some time before our next appointment,” she smiled. Phil gave a big, childlike grin.

 Once everyone had sung Happy Birthday to Rebecca and she had blown out the candles, the cake was served out. Steve approached Bucky.

 “Hey, man. How are you doing?”

 “A bit tired but seeing the smile on that little girl’s face makes it all worth it,” he softly sighed.

 Steve followed Bucky’s gaze to where Rebecca was talking animatedly to Y/N. He could tell the smile on her face was genuine and not just for show. This was a person who loved their job and loved children.

 “Is that the same Y/N you’ve been going on about all week?”

 “I haven’t been talking about her that much...”

 Steve gave him an incredulous look.

 “You know, it’s okay to like her. Why don’t you ask her out?”

 “What about Rebecca?”

 “Peggy and I can look after her while you go out on date. You deserve to be happy too...”

 Bucky thought about it for a while and headed over to Y/N and Rebecca.

 “Daddy, daddy! Y/N was the mermaid at Morgan’s party! She’s magical...” Rebecca was absolutely smitten with the woman.

 “I see... Can I talk Y/N alone for a minute? Then you can open presents,” he smiled.

 Rebecca giggled and hugged his leg before running off to play with her friends.

 “She’s a darling,” Y/N warmly smiled.

 “She is... Listen, Y/N... I was wondering... if you’re not busy tomorrow night... if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me...”

 “Like a date?”

 Bucky’s face flushed.

 “I mean, if you want it to be...”

 Y/N kissed his cheek.

 “I’d like that. How about 7:00 at the restaurant around the from the Childhood Dreams building. They do an amazing meal...”

 “Sounds perfect,” he smiled.