I’m Interested In Bucky

You’ve never held on to something so tight before.

Not even when you were younger and held your mamas hand.

Not when you tripped and reach out to grab the nearest person.

Not even your phone when the wind almost blew it away.

But Bucky, your fingers are cramping from the force of your grip on his jacket.

The bike bobs and weaves between cars, his chest rumbling from laughter when you squeak and lock your arms harder. His left hand moves to rest on your thigh, fingers drumming softly along the curve of your knee.

Your mouth is dry from panting, and your insides feel like goo. Vibrations from the bike are making it really hard for you not to moan into Bucky’s helmet and press yourself harder against his back.

This is checking off every box on your dirty biker fantasy, and dear Gods above – if he doesn’t bend you over the second the bike stops, you might fall to your knees and beg for every sin available for purchase. Dignity doesn’t exist in your vocabulary when a wall of a man like Bucky has you draped along his back. Let alone on his damn bike.

So, when he leans the bike to follow out of downtown and to the suburbs, you can only hope he’s not a murderer. Honestly, he could choke you out and you’d say thank you.

The other two had given him a thumbs up and stayed on the path in the city. Red Bike had leaned over and fist bumped Bucky, and wiggled his fingers at you before speeding to catch up to Star Spangle Banner Biker.

You take in your surroundings as the bike start to slow.

It’s a relatively quiet sub, most homes are dark – porch lights on, but all windows dark. Save for a few with soft lights in the living room from a TV playing.

The home Bucky pulls into is modest, a sweet brownstone with an already open garage awaiting your arrival.

You slowly flex your fingers, releasing your hold on him when he kicks the stand down.

Bucky gracefully stands, running a hand through his hair, “Hope you don’t mind, but I brought you to mine. I kind of forgot to ask where you wanted to go.” A sheepish grin blooms on his face.

Taking a deep breath, you slide the helmet off, “It’s okay. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with my roommate anyways.” You hand him his gear.

He places it on a shelf besides the bike, taking a moment to remove his protective gloves.

And you take that moment to very openly ogle at him.

His shoulders are wide – you literally had your face between the blades – but theres something comforting about the size of him. Wide. Tall. Arms that look they could crush watermelons. Thighs that look solid enough to hold you there for hours.

A back so muscular the muscles are seen through the thick leather jacket. His hair is on the longer side. Long enough to grab fistfuls of and curl at the nap of his neck.

You’re practically drooling when Bucky looks over his shoulder at you.

“You like what you see, sweetheart?” The fucker smirks.

Licking your bottom lip, “I’m not complaining about the view.”

He faces you fully, one hand going to rest on bike behind your seat, the other on your cheek. “You know, I’m trying very hard to be a gentleman –“

“And how’s that working out for you?” You lean into his touch.

You watch in real time as his pupils dilate, “You’re making it rather hard.”

You let your eyes wander over him. Down his torso to his jeans, “You talking about your restraint or that?”

There, as clear as the moon in the sky, is a bulged in his pants. Your thighs twitch, your fingers raising to find purchase on his waist. When he doesn’t answer, you meet his gaze.

Blue eyes nearly swallowed by black. The hand on your face slowly slides to the back of your head, fingers slightly twisting to grab your hair. Your breath hitches at a soft tug, “Both.”

His eyes track your tongue when it flicks out to lick your lower lip again, “I had a shit night, Bucky. I don’t want restraint.”

Famous last words before his mouth is on yours.

The kiss isn’t soft. It’s not sweet. And it sure has hell is not slow.

Bucky kisses like a man starved. Parched. Lost in the desert and you are the first lick of water he’s tasted in days.

It’s complete of teeth grazing lips, tongues fighting for dominance, and fingers gripping for dear life.

Bucky’s hand from the bike moves to your thigh, finger tips digging into the meaty flesh of you. A groan leaves his mouth and into yours. Your own hands unzip his jacket and shove it off him while still keeping your lips locked. Jacket makes a soft thud when it hits the floor.

His hands go back to you after shaking the gear off, turning your body to sit sideways on the bike. For a moment, you think about jumping off the bike, but then he’s shoving your thighs apart and stepping between them.

He towers over you like this, and your neck starts to hurt from how far back your head is leaning to keep kissing him. You break apart to breathe, but his lips just descend to your neck. You grip the bike for support with one hand — the other finding his hair.

You yank when his teeth find that spot below your ear. And the sound that leaves his throat is enough to send slick drooling out of you.

It’s like you unlocked Bucky because then he drops to his knee, fingers curling into your leggings and pulling them down so fast, you almost fly off the bike. You gasp, “Bucky—”

The look on his face will forever be etched into your frontal lobe. Eyes blown wide, mouth pretty pink and wet, and hair falling on his forehead. He just stares at your bare pussy for a moment before looking up at you with a lopsided grin, “Oh sweetheart. Louder for the neighbors to hear.”

The words barely reach your ears when his mouth meets your wetness. Your hand dashes to his hair as a breathy moan leaves you. And Bucky eats pussy like he’s tasty the sweet nectar of a plum.

It’s loud— his tongue against your clit, flicking and lick quick swipes. His right fingers tracing the opening of you, his left hand holding open your trembling thigh.

You watch him watch you. Your mouth hangs open, brows drawn together, and filth falling from your lips. “Bu-Bucky!” You gasp loudly when a finger sinks in, “The garage is— “, another loud moan, thighs twitching, “Open!”

Bucky has the audacity to roll his eyes and then press another finger in just to curl them.

Your back arches, head thrown back, moaning to the ceiling and praying to God someone doesn’t hear—let alone fucking see—what Bucky is doing to you.

You clench when he curls his fingers harder, pressing that soft spot he seems to have found ungodly fast. His chooses that second to also suck on your clit, harshly.

Stars burst in your eyes, the sound between you legs is sloppy, and all you can do is cry out his name as you come. On his bike.

Your biker fantasy list is headed to being completely filled if he keeps this up.

Bucky doesn’t slow his fingers, only moves his mouth to give kisses to your thighs, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

Heat blooms on your face, you pussy crying around his digits, “Please.”

He licks his lips, “Please what, sweetheart?”

Your eyes start to cross as another orgasm builds embarrassingly fast. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. Mercy? More? His cock? His mouth again?

His free hand grips yours still holding onto the bike, “Come one, sweet girl. Give me one more and I’ll give you my cock. Think you can do that for me? For yourself?” And then he slips a third in, all the way down and twists them.

For a brief moment, you think you break his hand holding yours and maybe yank a couple strands out of his head. You come again. A high cry echoes in the garage. Clenching so tight around him, he just leaves his fingers buried deep within you. Wiggling the tips to draw out your orgasm.

Tears fall form your eyes when you realize he’s lowering his mouth back down to you. “Bucky, please.” You hiccup, “You – you said – “, and his lips are making out with your clit again.

You sob loudly. Fat tears spill from your face, sweat dripping down your back, and you can’t seem to catch your breath. His mouth feels like sin and heaven and his fingers just keep playing that spot deep inside you. You pussy cries with you. Two orgasms in, a third approaching, and your poor thighs cant close around his big body.

Bucky’s shoulders keep you spread, and his eyes stay locked on your wet face. The evil bastard looks smug. Looks like he could die there and be so thankful.

“I know, sweetheart.” He pulls away, lips wet and smirking, “I promise. One more. Give me one more and I’ll fuck you right.” He licks your shaking thigh, “You look so fucking beautiful on my bike. Letting me eat your pussy.” Bites the juggle of your inner thigh, “I could do this all fucking night. You taste so good. One more, there you go.” And he wraps his lips back around your clit.

You might pass out, you’re not sure, when your third hits. It’s so wet and loud and Bucky just drinks you up. You push on his head, your feet kick at his sides, too overstimulated. Your poor pussy weeps when he pulls away and withdrawals his fingers. Not without keeping them curled the whole way out.

Your lungs aren’t filling with enough air, but your chest feels light and heart feels full. And pussy feels fucking recked and its just from his mouth and hands.

Bucky lifts you off the bike, holding you open and carrying you as if you weigh a sack of potatoes. You cant even find your brain to care, to fight him to put your down. That you’re heavy.

You just get wetter at the idea of him holding you against a wall and fucking you until the wall gives way.

When your mind catches up, he’s dropping you on his bed and his clothes are shedding. Bucky’s mouth finds yours as he climbs over you, hooking your thighs over his.

You cant help put looks down and nearly pass the fuck out because what do you mean he’s hung like a goddamn horse?

You must make a choked sound because Bucky laughs softly, hands moving to remove your shirt and snap your bra off. “It’ll fit, sweet girl. Youre a good girl, right? You can take it.”

You nod along, wide eyes watching the way his cock glides between your wet folds. You whine as the shaft slides over your clit. “I can take it.”

Bucky moans, “Fuck – “, and sinks his cock halfway in you.

You both gasp out, your hands gripping his biceps as his grip the sheets beside your shoulders. “Oh – Bucky – fuck me!” Back arches off the bed as he thrust the rest in.

“Shit, I knew you’d be perfect. Taking me so fucking good. Look at how pretty you’re taking me.” Bucky shoves a hand into your hair and angles your head down.

Your lower lip wobbles at the sight.

Your pussy stretched wide to take his girth, thighs wet from your three orgasms, and your legs spread so fucking wide you can feel a mild pinch in your hips.

Wet eyes meet piercing blue, and you clench around him “Please.” You beg again. And this time, you know what you’re begging for, “Fuck me, Bucky. I can take it.”

Bucky slowly leans back; gaze still locked with yours. He takes one hand and presses it to your thigh, lifting it up to spread you wider. You gasp when he somehow slides in deeper. His other hand moves from your hair to your right breast. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

Your hands grip his arm above your chest just as he drawls out, and slams back in.

The pace he sets is punishing. Headboard shakes against the wall, the bed creaking with each thrust of his hips. His heavy balls smack against you and the squelching between your legs is almost as loud as your sobs.

“Oh my god!” His cock drags along spots inside you never even knew where there. The head hits deep, your walls keep quivering, “Please, Bucky – don’t stop – I can – “, you blabber.

Bucky groans, hips snapping fast and harder, “Jesus Christ,” his eyes watch your breast bounce, the softness of your body jiggling with each pound, “Ima keep you tied here. Keep you all to myself and fuck you whenever you want. That sound good, sweet girl, huh?” He tilts his hips, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

You nod because there’s no way you’ll say no to that, “Whenever you want.” You’re crying again.

He licks his lips before lowering himself nose to nose with you. His hips not once faltering, “Yeah, sweetheart? Whenever I want?” You just nod. “Good girl, such a good. Fucking. Girl.”

Each word punctuated with a thrust harder than the last. And that’s what sends you over the edge.

You clench down, hard, and come harder than you’ve ever before. You fly off the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sob his name over and over.  

Bucky lets out a deep growl, drilling one last deep thrust in before releasing inside and painting your fluttering walls.

It takes a long moment of gasping, twitching, and sharp sobs before either one of you lets the other go. Bucky slowly lowers your legs onto the bed as he pulls out.

Your eyes slip shut, his cum dribbling out, “Bucky – “, you start.

“Im right here, sweets.” A warm hand finds your cheek, “Ill be right back. Don’t worry.”

You lay there, feeling boneless and thoroughly stretched out. In all parts of your body and soul.

A deep feeling washes over you as you hear him down the hall running water. Is this when he calls you an uber to send you home? Is he just going to come back to clean you up and then go take the couch?

Your spiral pauses when he walks back in, “I hope it’s not too hot.” Bucky’s voice washes over you and he’s gently wiping you clean.

You sigh, keeping your eyes closed. Its stupid. Just met like a few hours ago and he fucked you so good now you’re going to compare everyone after him to him. But you don’t want to go. His bed is warm, his hands are gentle and soft, and he smells like comfort and desire.

Bucky must notice. Of course he does.

“You’re staying.”

Two simple words that cause your eyes to open and widen. Had you said those things out loud? Did he fuck the filter right out of you? Is your brain still on the bike?

“I’d like to take you for breakfast. Maybe get your number and see you again, if you’ll have me.” Bucky looks so open and kind and your eyes start to swell.

“I’d like to stay. And breakfast. And you can have my address and social too if you ask nice enough.”

Bucky laughs, wrapping his big arms around you and pulling you to him. A blanket joins his arms, locking in all warmth.

“Rest, my beautiful girl. I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

-fin-

You heard it as you sat and sorted beans from the garden. They all did. The familiar horns and canter of horses. The visitors dismounting at the monastery that shares the same plot with the convent. You hear the monks have lamb and red wine.

The other sisters share looks across the table. You squirm and stare at your plate. You aren’t hungry. Not since you heard his voice carrying from the yard.

Supper finishes and you clear the table with the other sisters. No longer bound to silence, they whisper. You hear the name that keeps you on edge.

You scrape off the crumbs and put the leftover crusts in a basket for the paupers. You wipe clean the wooden plates and stack them as Sister Eleanor giggles at Sister Dawn. Sister Brenna hushes them and chides them to take extra prayers at Compline.

You drift through the remaining prayers and evening chores. You know the walls and floors of the convent well enough to walk them with your eyes closed. Your hands are forged to each task without effort.

You retire to the hard bed of an oak plank. The night keeps you awake outside as the usual creak of branches and snaps of twigs by nocturnal creatures has you imagining more treacherous trespassers. Then the low jingle comes and you are entirely alert.

When the Duke arrives to visit in one of his pilgrimages with the monks, he never fails to send the signal. And you never fail to heed it. The one time you did…

You listen to the sisters around you. Life in the convent doesn’t allow for much rest so when it is had, it’s done deeply. You rise and pull on your robes and veil. You keep your head down as you raise your skirts above the slumbering bodies and cross the room.

The corridors are so dark you can take only small steps. You reach the kitchen door and let yourself out into the moonlight. You don’t look back, only ahead. You go to the mule’s house behind the monastery and whistle in imitation of a sparrow. You wait for the return.

Nothing. Perhaps you imagined it. Or perhaps you are too quick. You shudder and push through the door. Your body readies for what is demanded of it.

The scent of straw and donkey fur meets your nose. You lean into the door to close it. You listen to the sleepy huff of the beast in his pen at the other end of the stall. You turn and search the slivers of moonlight for movement.

Your nerves tangle and your heart clutches. Something off. Something is out of place. You turn and suddenly you’re shoved back. You stumble into a stool as hands clasp onto your sides and keep you from tumbling over.

Lord Rogers chuckles and nuzzles your veil.

“Sacred sister, you’ve missed me,” He growls as he squeezes through your habit. “You’ve no idea how I’ve longed for our reunion.”

Your flick your lashes and gulp. If only he knew the same dread as you do. If only he feared so much for the mark upon his soul and yet, he has no such vow to keep. He is a noble, he is a man who can buy forgiveness. You will repent forever in this world and the next.

“My lord.” You whisper.

“Lamb, please, I long to hear my name upon thy sweet lips.” His mouth grazes yours and his breath clouds hotly.

“Steven…” you murmur as his hands run down to your skirts. 

He presses his lips to yours and growls. He yanks at your habit as you cling to him to keep from falling. He turns you and traps you against the planked wall. His beard tickles your skin as he sighs into you.

Bucky was obsessed with you. From your head to your toe. You showed so much hospitality. You didn’t treat him like a failed experiment, or a killer, or a broken object, or a frightened animal, nor did you walk on eggshells around him as if he could strike at any moment.

You treated him like a friend.

He wanted to be more than that, but he’d never say it.

Plus, you had a boyfriend.

And it infuriated him. You were under appreciated. In his mind, anyone who wasn’t him would under appreciate you.

But he also felt like he didn’t deserve you. He was a conflicted man. Constantly second guessing himself. Except when he was with you, he was decisive. He wanted you. That never changed. Never wavered.

Stark’s personal assistant. Therefore, all of the avengers personal assistant. You had grown really close with Bucky, but you appreciated all the avengers just the same.

Stark had complained that Bucky had been ‘non-descriptive’ in his report regarding his latest solo mission. Meaning, you had to go fetch Bucky and make him fix it. Only problem was Bucky was working out in the towers’ gym. And you questioned all loyalty to your boyfriend when you saw Bucky working out.

“James!” You called as you entered the gym. You were the only one allowed to call him that, and it made his cock twitch.

Your eyes canned over the weight room. Sam and Steve sparring, Natasha stretching before her workout, a few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents here and there lifting weights, then, there’s Bucky.

He’s marvelous. Sweat dripping down his body, biceps bulging as he benches, metal arm glistening in the light, face barely contorted as if he’s not struggling. He’s currently benching 3 plates (315 pounds). It’s just his warmup weight. And it does something to you. His warm up weight is more than you. He’s not even struggling. Your boyfriend can’t lift you up. Can’t throw you around like you weight nothing. But Bucky can.

He grins when he sees you, getting in one more rep before he racks the bar. He sits up on the bench, his head motioning you to come over.

He’s just as affected by you as you are by him. And you have no clue.

“Hey, doll. What’s goin’ on?” He drawls, his voice a bit ragged. You blush with a kind smile. Bucky was a charmer. And he was kind to you. Respectful. A gentlemen.

“Mr. Stark says your report was inconclusive. He wants you to add more detail to the battle and the outcome.” You remark professional. His eyes drop and he curses under his breath. Bucky in his gym clothes, working out, looking like a greek god, and all you wanted from him was a damn report?

“C’mon, sweetheart, you could at least add some sugar f’me.” He grinned as he looked back up at you, gently taking the paper into his hands as he read over it.

“Right. Let me rephrase.” You clear your throat, ridding of your ‘professional’ voice that Bucky acted like he hated, but secretly found so sexy. “Tony wants you to add more to your report, Buck. Can you do that f’me?” You repeated in a sweet, less professional tone. You let your words slur sloppily. Like a real person.

Bucky grinned and nodded as he tossed the page beside his water bottle. He stood abruptly, towering over you as he moved to go add more weight to the bar.

He added another plate on both sides (405 pounds), and you swore you were gonna lose it if you watched him. You found your mind slipping. Your boyfriend starting to drift into forgetfulness. You knew you had to get out of there before you were licking the sweat off of his arms.

“Yeah, doll, I’ll handle it.” He winked with a cheeky grin as he slid back onto the bench, getting himself back into position to bench press the weight. You watched for a moment before you realized you really needed to get out of there.

So you did, after one final look of Bucky tossing around twice as much as your weight with no struggle, you left the gym with an undeniably flutter in your heart that you desperately tried to ignore.

It was wrong, you thought. You had a boyfriend. Bucky could have anyone he wanted. This was just a silly, school-girl crush. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

—————————————————————

“You know Bucky likes you, right?” Natasha inquired. She truly didn’t know if you were that clueless or not. Turns out, you were.

“What? No he doesn’t, Nat.” You laughed, as if she was playing some cruel joke on you. People had tried to tell you before that he liked you, but you never listened.

Your mind played sick tricks on you. Bucky could have anyone girl he wanted, why would he want you?

“—Plus, even if it’s true. I have a boyfriend.” You reminded, earning a playful groan from Natasha. It seems no one really liked your boyfriend along the tower.

“I’m serious! I heard him and Steve talkin’ about it. I dunno, ‘doll’, seems like he could have the ‘hots’ for you.” Natasha implied. You rolled your eyes. Truly, she was persistent and relentless. That was nice. You still didn’t believe her, but the effort was there.

“You’re ridiculous.” You’d laugh. Though you didn’t know if you were talking to yourself, or Natasha.

—————————————————————

Weeks gone by since that little encounter with Natasha. You and Bucky remained normal, close friends, professional. Even if he would call you little names, and even if you would giggle and smack his shoulder when he said something too flirty.

Bucky was a charmer. You reminded yourself. Steve constantly teased him about the 40’s, how every woman left satisfied after a night with Bucky Barnes.

You figured, it was nice to let him flirt with you. Even if you didn’t reciprocate too much. It helped build his confidence. You thought. You’re being a good friend. You reminded.

Bucky wanted you so bad it hurt. At every turn, he was reminded he couldn’t have you. That so other asshole could. He would never get to hear you laugh intimately, or take you out, or have you writhing beneath him as he worships every—

“You got it bad, Buck.” Steve sighed as he sat down by his friend. Bucky didn’t deny it. Didn’t grow defensive. Didn’t push away his friend and fire back with his own remark. He just bowed his head into his hands with a groan.

“I know.” Was all he could say. Everyday you stayed on his mind. I bet she would like these flowers. Bucky would think as he passed by a local shop. I bet she would kiss every damn scar. Bucky would think as he looked over his ruined body in the mirror. His brain constantly taunted him with the thoughts of what you might be like.

“What are you gonna do?” Steve murmured. They had just gotten back from a mission, sitting together as they flew back to Stark’s Tower.

“I don’t know.” Bucky sighed, lifting his head to finally meet Steve’s gaze. Nothing but empathy. Steve had been there before. When he was scrawny, and no girl would even look his way.

But Bucky wasn’t scrawny. Girls looked his way all the time. Why couldn’t he just get over you? In all honesty, he didn’t want to. You were one of the best people he had ever met, and he didn’t want to let you go.

“James! You’re back.” You beamed as you saw him enter the tower. Snacks all in your hands. You were restocking the fridge for everyone again. So thoughtful. So kind.

“Hey, gorgeous, you need some help?” He asked, even as he was already grabbing all the grocery bags off your arms without responding. You laughed as he took them, a big lopsided grin as his face as you two walked together.

Steve sent him a look. Bucky ignored him.

“Yeah, thanks, Buck.” You smiled. Christ. Your smile. So bright, and genuine, and beautiful. It was his favorite thing to see on your face. He smiled back. Something soft, genuine, but gentle.

“No problem, sweets. Can’t believe no one came n’ helped ya sooner.” He grinned. Ever the tease. The charm. The flirt. His Brooklyn accent was enough to make your head spin. It was so effortlessly him. Nothing mechanic, or programmed.

“What do you got planned this week?” Bucky indulged in small talk. He hated small talk. Unless it was with you. He set the groceries down, handling it himself as you chatted his ear off.

“Oh! I gotta do the dry cleaning for the tower, arrange a few meetings for Tony, and…” You drawled out the word. You didn’t like telling Bucky about things between you and your boyfriend. You didn’t like to involve him in that.

“—got a big dinner planned on Saturday with my boyfriend.” You finished. Bucky stiffened but he didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t want you to know how much he hated the thought of you with someone else.

So he plastered a fake grin, not the soft one he held earlier. His teeth were gritted. His jaw clenched as he finished unloading the groceries.

“That’s nice, doll. Real nice.” He gritted out, maintaining every inch of composure he could muster. He didn’t wait for a response, he just turned and left. You quirked a brow. Bucky didn’t ever leave a room with you first. Really, never. You always initiated the ‘goodbye’.

“Uh, okay, bye!” You called after him, utterly confused on what his deal was. Steve glanced at him knowingly as he stormed by, beelining straight for his room within the tower.

————————————————————

Saturday was a nightmare.

Firstly, you had no clue what to wear. Everything you put on made you feel horrendous about yourself. Sometimes the fabric would grip your stomach pudge, sometimes your stretch marks were showing, sometimes your thighs looked gigantic and you felt simply terrible.

Finally, you find the perfect dress. It’s black and sparkly. It highlights your curves, not your flaws (what you think are flaws), and pairs perfectly with your matching strap heels and purse. Your body looks fantastic and you feel like you can finally breathe again. You take at least five spins in the mirror (yes, your butt looks good too), and when you finally decided you’ve twirled enough you head to the fancy restaurant.

You take a seat at your reserved table, excitement tumbling out of you. You can only picture your boyfriend’s reaction to how good you look. Maybe he’ll drop to his knees, maybe he’ll kiss you so hard your breath is stolen, maybe he’ll even pay the full bill. What a dream.

You’re a drop-dead, beautiful goddess. And your boyfriend is… late. Not even late. He doesn’t show.

You’ve been stood up. You call him, text him, and you get no response. You check his location. It’s off.

You’re not scared, you don’t think he’s ‘hurt’ or bleeding out in an alley. You think he’s cheating.

You don’t think, you know. It’s a gut-feeling. An instinct. You’re certain you’re right. That’s when you receive the picture.

You don’t recognize the number, it’s unsaved. It’s a photo of some girl sucking your boyfriend off. All she sends along with it is two winking emojis. You’re pissed.

You spent the better half of two hours doing your makeup, finding the perfect dress, choosing the right heals and bag… You’ve been waiting at the restaurant for an hour.

You storm out furiously. No waiters or servers try to stop you, you’re headed straight for Stark Tower with a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. You slam your car door shut and storm into the elevator. You hit the button for Bucky’s floor. Tears start brimming in the corner of your eyes before you’re brushing them back.

You’re angry. Pissed. A little relived. You get an excuse to go sleep with Bucky. You’re not insecure. You don’t fear he might not want you. You just want to teach that asshole a lesson. And you want it to be Bucky. Because your boyfriend hates Bucky.

You knock on the door once. Twice. He answers. “Sam, what the hel—“ He begins to chastise, then he sees you. You’re gorgeous. Your dress clings to every curve. Your ass, your breasts, your thick thighs… He could bust right now. He can even see the highlight of your stomach pudge poking out and it turns him on.

He liked his women bigger. He hated the 40’s. Everyone following the same beauty standards, trying to all be as thin as paper. He loved that you were womanly. With a womanly figure. It takes him a second to realize how mad you are and how you’re pushing past him into his apartment. Your eyes were glassy, he notices.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart.” He sighs. He shuts the door and is pulling you into one of his—much needed—bear hugs. His large hands cradle the back of your head, pressing you against his hard chest. He’s beefy. You can feel his muscles pressing against you. “What happened, doll?” He murmurs. His voice so soft it could lull a baby to sleep.

You take a few deep breaths to collect yourself. The tears finally stop flooding and you lift your head off his chest.

“I-I got all dressed up, got to the restaurant and just sat there. Alone. For an hour.” You sniffled. Bucky nodded, his gentle blue eyes peering into yours, wordlessly coaxing more information out of you.

“He stood me up! I texted, I called, he didn’t answer. Then I get this!” You exclaim, your voice cracking as you showing Bucky the message the girl sent you. Bucky repulses. He’s… small. He wants to laugh, but he knows better right about now.

“—I even did a full body shave, Buck. Thinkin’ maybe, just maybe, he’d want to finally fuck me when he saw me lookin’ s’good.” You complained. Bucky nodded along, criticizing himself mentally for the way his cock twitched and his eyes darkened at your words.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. Any man that wouldn’t want to fuck you, at all. Is a fool. And an ass.” Bucky grunted. His large hands gripped your waist, pulling your curves flush against him. He tried to ignore how good your hips felt under his hands.

Just comfort her, Bucky. His brain would remind. Don’t be a horny asshole right now. He shamed himself.

“You are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen. Y’hear me? I’m sorry he did that, baby. Shoulda’ called me. Woulda’ came n’ ate with you. Showered you in compliments.” He murmured so sweetly your chest ached.

“I just want you to make me feel better, Buck.” Your voice dropped, suggesting at something much more than a friend comforting a friend.

Bucky stiffened. His eyes blown with lust. His hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Plus… I need a picture to send back.”

That’s how Bucky got you undressed and was trying to convince you to ride his face.

“C’mon, doll. What a better way to get back at ‘em than to sit on my face?” He teased playfully. He was still dress at the center of the bed, now propped up on two elbows as he saw your hesitation.

“Need help, baby?” He purred as he saw you begin to undo the straps to your heels. You nodded with a little pout. He grinned as patted his thigh, prompting you to put your foot there, in which you did.

He slowly began to undo the strap to your heels, gazing up at you lovingly as he planted little kisses along your ankles.

“Even painted ya’ toes, huh?” He teased playfully, watching as you erupted into a fit of laughter. He loved your laugh. It had to be one of the best sounds heaven could bring to him.

“Oh, shut up.” You giggled as he finally peeled off your heels, leaving you completely bare. He practically scrambled back to his position on the bed as he awaited you charmingly.

“Please, sweetheart? Just wanna live between those pretty thighs of yours.” He pleaded. You whimpered at his words. Slowly, hesitantly, you crawled onto the bed, up his body.

“Jus’ smother me in your pretty cunt, please?” He murmured. That did it. You stubbornly climb your way up his body till your dripping cunt was approaching his mouth and he groaned.

“Jesus Christ, baby.” He breathed at the sight of your soaked pussy. Gorgeous. Undeniably mouth-watering. He was so ready to drown in you.

“You’re gonna tell me if you can’t breathe, right? Don’t wanna crush you.” You murmur, whining as his breath ghosted over your cunt. You’re dripping over his chin, and you’re worried about suffocating him?

“No, i’m not, doll. Just gonna sit there and take it. Like I should.” He rasped. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. You’re sure he’s serious. Because he is. He would gladly die between your legs.

You’re hesitant as you adjust on top of him. You don’t want to hurt Bucky, really.

“C’mon, baby, just sit on my fuckin’ face ‘fore I make you.” He huffs as your thighs shake on either side of his head, desperately trying not to clamp down on his head.

Before you can protest, he’s pushing you down onto his awaiting mouth.

“James, I—ahh!” You moan as his tongue connects with your dripping sex. He cut you off expertly, grinning against you smugly as he begins to suckle on your clit.

You’re a moaning, whimpering, mess.

Your hands fly to his hair, entangling in the brown locks.

When your thighs tighten around his head, he groans and his hips buck upward to meet nothing, only causing another groan to spill from his lips.

“Fuck me.” He gasps as he pulls off your cunt, his lips glistening and chin wet with your slick. He could bust right now, your cunt is that sweet. It’s enough to get him off. “Let’s get me picture-perfect first, sweetheart. Not sure i’m gonna last any longer like this.” He grins charmingly. You chew down on your bottom lip as you grab your phone, fingers trembling.

“Alright, c’mon Bucky, pose.” You tease playfully as Bucky laughs.

His large hands are on your thighs, prying you open for him, his mouth is enveloping your cunt hungrily, his nose bumping against your clit, his hair is a bit messy in all the best ways, and his eyes, that’s what makes the picture. His eyes are piercing, hooded, dark. Eyebrows stern and you shudder at the picture.

The picture is perfect. In every entity of the word. It captures everything about Bucky. His desire is easy to spot. You send it back to the number, then to your boyfriend for good measures.

He eagerly gets back to work when you’re satisfied with the photo. “Go ahead n’ send it to me too, doll.” He grins as he delves back in your cunt. His nose bumps your cunt and you moan whorishly. It’s wanton and It makes him groan against you.

When he redoubles his efforts, you’re practically bucking against his face. He’s grunting and gasping against your cunt, unable to contain himself as his cock is throbbing and thrusting against the confines of his pants.

He groans quietly, each delicious drag of his lips and tongue making you shudder. He holds you down on him, face buried in your pussy. He sucks gently on your clit, then circles it with his tongue, only to trail down and flutter it against your throbbing cunt.

You gasp as your back arches and you roll your hips. Your stomach coils and your thighs tense. Bucky groans softly as you ride his face, grinding and dragging your cunt over his tongue. He grips your hips tightly and guides your motion, controlling your pace.

“S’beautiful, baby, could die happily between these thighs.” He rasps. You’re so close to coming it’s intoxicating. You’re chasing your high with vigorous need. Your hips buck just right and hit his tongue and nose at the perfect spot.

“Fuck, James!” You cry as you squirm and convulse on his tongue. He doesn’t waste a single drop of your sweet cum. He’s lapping it up eagerly and filthy slurping at your cunt. You’re whining as he finally releases you from his iron-grip.

He pulls back and his cunt and mouth are dripping with your essence. He presses sweet little kisses to your thighs that surround his head. He adores how thick they are, lavishing your stretch marks in worshipping attention.

“Thought I was gonna cream my pants, sweetheart. That’s how good your cunt is.” He mumbles against your thighs as his own lips trail down your body. He nips at your skin hungrily. He needs more.

Your hands rest on his chest, holding yourself up with a whine as he teased you.

Bucky adores having your weight on top of him. He would flip you around, give you the fucking you deserve, but he wants you to ride him, first. He wants to feel your weight on top of him before he truly fucks you.

“Gonna give me another, doll? Jus’ want you to ride me, yeah? S’not hard. I’ll help you.” He murmurs pleadingly. You don’t have to time to protest before he’s gripping you by your hips and lifting you up and off his face to his own hips.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. He’s not struggling. He’s not flaunting his strength or flexing. He just effortlessly lifted you, all arms, and sat you above the tent of his pants.

It makes a whole new wave of arousal wash over you, and it shows on his pants. He glances down at the wet patch with a predatory grin that says everything you need to know.

He’s figured you out.

You don’t give them the time to tease you because your grinding your wet cunt against the crotch of his pants, making him groan and glare at you.

“Doll.” He warns. You shush him playfully as you continue to shamelessly grind yourself against the dent in his pants.

His metal armed grips your hips, the cool metal clashing against your warm skin. It’s pleasant and welcomed. You whine, not sure if you’re teasing him or yourself at this point.

“How ‘bout you have the real thing, sweetheart?” He murmurs and before you know it, he’s lifting you off his crotch and unfastening his belt. He tugs down his pants as you pull off his shirt, revealing him to your eyes.

He’s magnificent, of course. There’s scars and gashes along his torso, only serving to make him more sexy in your opinion.

You lean down, pressing a kiss to one of his larger scars along his stomach. He suppresses a whine from under you. He knew you would kiss his scars.

“You’re so handsome.” You smile as you press another lingering kiss. Bucky could stay like this for hours, but he needs you.

“Stop teasin’.” He huffs, even with his dopey grin on full display. You laugh softly as you crawl down his body.

Your hands dip beneath his waistband, still a tease as you slowly, agonizingly, tug the material down his body. His cock eagerly slaps up against his stomach when it’s freed from his boxers.

Despite how his hands are twitching at his sides, Bucky lets you set the pace. He wants you too feel worshipped. Pretty, admired, adored, everything that asshole ex of yours couldn’t do. Wants to prove why he’s better.

Firstly, his cock is a lot bigger. It’s an undeniable fact. He’s thick and long, a vein running down the base to make you shiver.

Slowly, teasingly, you sink onto his cock. He hisses, head rolling back into the pillow. His hands fly to your hips, guiding you as you take his cock.

The stretch is immense. You whimper as you sink onto him, panting.

“Oh, fuck,” You breathed. Bucky cursed beneath you as you set a slow, torturous, pace. Every roll of your hips was euphoric. Bucky was fighting every single nerve inside of his body to just pick you up and slam you back down on his dick, setting a new pace.

“feels s’good.” You slur as you pick up the pace. It’s not enough for him. He’s filling you up. He can see himself in your tummy as he rests two hands under his head, propping him up slightly.

After a few more rolls of his hips, he really can’t take it anymore.

Honestly, you’re surprised he lasted this long.

“Jus’ sit there and take it, baby. Lemme help.” He murmurs as he picks you up and slams you back down on his dick. He sets a brutal pace, fucking up into you as you bounce on top of him.

You moan and whine as he finally slowly back down. His tempo is maddening. One second he’s manhandling you up and down him, the next he’s gazing up into you lovingly as you rock back and forth.

It’s amazing.

“B-buck, James, fuck.” You babble. One hand slides up you body, thumbing at your nipples and cupping your heavy chest. You moan softly for him. So sweetly, his own personal choir.

“Yeah, I know, doll.” He grins smugly as you roll your eyes. He sets his faster pace back into action, making your eyes roll in a different kind of way.

You whine as his hand leaves your chest to play with your clit. You’re positive you won’t last any longer, Bucky knows. He can feel you. He knows it’s just a matter of time.

His thumbs laps lazily at your clit as he bounces you on top of him. Your weight is so comforting to him. The constant ‘fight or flight’ in his mind subsides. His heart isn’t thumping, per usual. He’s not scared or anticipating the next strike.

“Gonna give me another, sweetheart? Wanna feel it. You’re grippin’ onto me like you don’t want to let go.” He rasps. You whine. You don’t last much longer with his cock dragging along your walls, his thumb teasing your clit, and his words making your whole body vibrate.

You clench around him one last time and with a deafening cry you collapse for him. It’s magical to watch you come undone, and he can feel his balls twitching, urging him to let go as well.

He doesn’t. He wants this night to last for you. Plus, his stamina is insane. He plans on taking you over and over till you physically can’t anymore.

“There ya’ go. Let it all out f’me.” He murmurs as he slowly stops your rocking on top of him. You whine as your cum gushes out of you, trialing down his cock and across his abdomen.

You’re not done.

He knows it.

He’s going to have you cum again on his cock.

Before you can process, he’s capturing your lips in a wind-stealing kiss as he swiftly switches your positions. Your beautiful hair splayed out across his pillow as he grins down at you.

“Just one more, m’promise.” He coo’s sweetly. You’re not sure if he’s mocking you or being sarcastic at this point. Your brain is a haze. The only thing you know is when his thrusts start again, so do your moans.

“I love you, doll.”

—————————————————————

“Jus’ such a pretty girl. So beautiful. Look better when you’re in my bed.” He teases as his tip kisses your cervix over and over again. Your cunt is sensitive and overstimulated from your two previous orgasms, only allowing him to hit deeper inside if you.

You moan beneath him as your phone vibrates and buzzes repeatedly on Bucky’s side table beside the bed.

Bucky grunts as he hears yet another vibration and he stops abruptly.

“Can’t blame him, sweetheart. If I lost this I’d be pissed too.” He laughs, but it’s tight and frustrated.

Your ringtone begins to play, the fucker is seriously calling you right now. Bucky grins sadistically as he recognizes the tune, he looks at you, silently asking for permission. When you nod, it’s game over.

He grabs your phone, pressing it to your ear as he answers.

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering my texts? You’re supposed to be my girl!” You hear your boyfriend angrily yell into the phone. Bucky grins down at you as he slowly begins to thrust again, pulling a low whimper from you that has you glaring at Bucky.

“Yeah, well, you lost her. She’s mine now. Stop callin’, we’re clearly in the middle of somethin’.” He grunted as his thrusts increased, a hand flew to your mouth to muffle your moans beneath him, earning a grin from Bucky.

“What? Who is thi—wait… is this Bucky? The Bucky that’s been goin’ after my girl?” Your ex puzzled together, making Bucky laugh as his other hand trailed over your chest, squeezing your breasts with a playful wink.

“The Bucky that’s got ‘your’ girl.” He corrected with a grunt as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping skin only grew louder and you wondered how long it would be before your ex realized.

“Just…just give her the damn phone!” Your ex mumbled angrily. Bucky laughed before looking down at you, hand covering your mouth, biting on it to suppress your moans.

“Not sure she can talk right now, she’s a little… busy.” Bucky hummed suggestively. Your ex began to spew curses and insults at Bucky as he fucked you. He leaned down, sucking on your nipple as your ex rambled on in his ear.

“—And that metal arm? Tacky! I can’t believe she would replace me with some—“ His words are drowned out by the noises of your pleasure. Bucky hums against your skin before pulling away with a grunt.

”Unless you want to hear her fuckin’ moan my name, it’s best to hang up.” Bucky rumbles into the phone. Your ex grows silent before he hangs up, Bucky grunts as he sets your phone back down and you finally uncover your mouth.

“T-thanks.” You whimper as his cock is grazing that spot. You moan and writhe beneath him, head buried in his pillow as your pussy clenched around his erection, coaxing another orgasm out of you.

“‘Course, doll. If he calls again, don’t cover your mouth.” He mumbles and that sends you over the edge.

You moan his name, panting as you give him another orgasm. This time, he’s comping with you. When you clamp down around him, he can’t hold back. He practically growls as he comes with you. His breathing labored. He collapses beside you, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as you both relish in the silence for a moment.

“I love you too, James.” You mumble, the weight of your previous orgasm collapsing on you as you drift off to bed. Bucky peels away, grabbing a warm wash cloth and dabbing along your messy thighs, cleaning you up. He kisses you as you lull to sleep.

The next morning, you wake up with Bucky’s arm around you, holding you firmly in place against his chest.

He’s snoring softly which makes you chuckle. You grab your phone, seeing at least twenty new messages from your ex.

You sign and set your phone back down. You really don’t feel like dealing with that today. You slowly peel away from Bucky’s grip, naturally awakening the super soldier.

“Sweetheart.” He rumbles, his sleepy voice making you stop in your trails. He sits up with a smile. Bucky has never been a morning person, but waking up next to you was so worth it.

“Shh, go back to bed.” You murmur with a cheeky grin. Bucky rolls his eyes, standing and following you on your feet. Your headed for his shower, and he’s right behind you.

“Please, doll. Can’t without you.” He rolls his eyes, hands gripping your waist and pulling you back against him. He’s insatiable. His morning wood pressed against your ass. You groan sarcastically, making Bucky chuckle.

“Buck.” You whine in complaint. Bucky hums, walking you forward to the shower. He turns on the water for you, noticing how shaky your legs are, making him laugh knowingly.

“Shut it.” You snap. He puts up his hands defensively, a grin wide across his face. The two of you step into the shower, the warm water cascading around you as he cradles your body against him.

Comfortable silence falls over the two of you as he ‘helps’ you wash your body, his cock pulsing with every drag of the loofa against your skin.

“Lemme take you out, doll.” He murmurs gently as his hands come to rest on your soapy stomach from behind you. You hum, blush spreading across your cheeks.

“Make you mine, for real. Not just fuck this pretty body.” He laughs, making you giggle as you turn around in his hold and smack him playfully on his shoulder.

“What makes you think I want to go out? I just got cheated on by my long-term, committed, relationship.” You laugh, your words clearly playful and sarcastic. Bucky rolls his eyes and scoffs playfully.

“Seemed like you wanted to go out when ya’ let me fuck you with your ‘long-term’ boyfriend on the phone.” Bucky laughed, your face flushed as you gasped, making him laugh. He turns you around, pressing you against the cool tile of the shower.

“Dinner then. Tomorrow. I’ll come by and pick you up.” Bucky insisted with a grin as he nipped on your shoulder, making you shudder against him.

“I’ll think about it.” You grin as he lines himself up again.

—————————————————————

It had been three days since your gruesome breakup. And you were already feeling amazing.

You realized your ex was holding you back from so many things. All you did together was sit on the couch and watch tv, now that he was out the house, you couldn’t stop moving.

Today your girls were taking you out to some expensive gala. Something your ex couldn’t even afford to look at. It felt right.

You felt powerful. All dressed up and cute. Your dress was stunning. It flaunted your curves perfectly. You were never allowed to wear anything too short or tight with your ex, but you’re a free woman now. And you looked beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. And the best part was, you knew it. You were practically radiating confidence.

You saw him sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of straight whiskey. He was the embodiment of a man. Sleek but burly. Masculine but not cocky.

You noticed his vibranium arm. Black and gold, concealed by the sleeve of his suit. You’re not sure if that should have scared you off, or drawled you in. Either way, you found yourself approaching him.

“Can I buy you a drink, handsome?” You smiled, sliding into the seat next to him at the bar. The man cocked a brow before grinning with a chuckle.

He would’ve been offended had you not been so beautiful.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my job, sweetheart.” He purred. You hummed. You let your eyes rake over him subtly. His hair was slicked back, a stray lock falling out, paired with a sleek suit and a bow tie to top it off. He was tall. Even when sitting down. “What are you drinkin’, doll?” He rumbled, clinking his glass against the bar top.

You told him what you wanted and he ordered it without question. He didn’t expect anything. You two made excellent conversation, surprisingly. He was rather quiet but charming nonetheless. The silence between you wasn’t awkward but rather comforting.

“So,” You drawled out the word, drawing Bucky’s attention back to you. “You takin’ anyone home tonight? Or is the spot still open?” You hummed, swirling your drink a bit before taking another sip as Bucky laughs.

“Sweetheart, I’m twice your age.” He reminded, stiffening. “Why don’t cha’ go for someone your own age, gorgeous?” He inquired. You chewed on your bottom lip. Liquid courage was the devil. And it had a wicked hold on you.

“Guys my age don’t know how to keep me.” You murmured. Bucky’s eyes darkened a notch. It was wrong. He was about a decade older than you, technically. Well, his body was. But fuck you were a pretty little thing. “Wanna be treated right.” You sighed playfully. Even if it was the truth.

“Yeah? Need some lovin’, doll?” He breathed. Your cunt throbbed a consistent rhythm at his breathlessness. He stared you down with his piercing blue eyes as he took another swig of whiskey. He didn’t feel the burn anymore. Hell, he wasn’t even drunk. Just buzzed. And hard.

“Mhm.” You purred, chewing on your inner cheek. You took the opportunity to sip your drink, hiding your blush from his cold gaze for more than two seconds. He intrigued you. And Bucky was a good-looking man. Old-school. For sure.

“C’mon, dollface. Let’s get you out of this cute little dress.”

—————————————————————

That’s how you ended up in Bucky’s apartment, surrounded by his scent driving you up a damn wall at every turn.

You’d been to plenty of guys’ places before. None of them were so delectable. It smelled like heaven in there, had you been a teenager your hormones would have been out of wack.

It smelled masculine. It made you want to set back feminism a few years.

Despite his words, he held you like a woman. Gentle like you were made out of glass. Not some little girl he could throw around. (even though he could throw you around if he wanted too).

You were on him like crazy. As soon as you entered his apartment you took his collar and brought him down to your height, kissing him with such passion he could drown in it. He grunted against your mouth as he kissed you back. You heard the slam of a door as he walked you backwards.

“Careful, gorgeous.” He growled against your jaw. You could only assume Bucky had snapped so many jaws before. Yet he handle yours with such care. “Might bite off more than you can chew.” He hummed. You grinned. As if it were a challenge.

“I hope so.” You breathed in defiance. Bucky grinned. Before you knew it, he was hoisting your body upwards, your legs instinctively wrapping around him and his hands greedily kneaded your ass as he brought you to the kitchen counter.

He set you down with a cheeky grin. He stepped between your thighs and you were so ready to be railed. But instead he did something completely unexpected.

He dropped to his knees. His 6-foot-4-self sank to his knees. For you. He fell to his knees before you. He had a vibranium arm, military training, had killed hundreds of men, and he was practically submitting to you.

You whined in protest as he spread your legs and bunched up your dress around your hips. You wanted to be fucked.

“Bucky—“

“You wanted an older man, didn’t you, gorgeous?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Older men like to eat pussy, doll.”

You whimpered at his filthy words. That was truly all the convincing you need as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your clothed cunt. Your panties were ruined. The lacy pink fabric soaked through.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He cursed, your cunt throbbed beneath your lingerie. He groaned as he slowly slid the material down your luscious thighs. He wanted you to suffocate him. To drown him in your pussy.

“Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmured as his eyes were transfixed in your cunt. Your folds. Your clit. Everything.

“Can I touch her, baby? Please?” He pleaded weakly. You breathe, captivated, you don’t even realize he’s begging you to give you pleasure till he speaks again.

“Please, doll. Want to make her feel good, i’ll be so sweet, make you forget about all those boys you’ve—“ Bucky is practically in a trance. He doesn’t notice you shaking your head, telling him it’s okay. “—had, m’promise i’ll make her feel better. She’s drippin’ f’me and—“

“Buck, please, yes,” You pant. His eyes darken as his cheeks flush a tint. You’re used to men taking your pussy, acting as if it’s theirs. Bucky doesn’t. He’s begging for it. Begging to make you feel good.

When his tongue connects with your cunt, it’s pure bliss. You moan obscenely as he suckles on your clit. You gasp, your hands running to his hair as you tug on it, making him groan against your cunt.

His once slicked hair is becoming much more messier under your greedy hands. His mouth envelopes around your pussy, making you whine.

“She’s s’wet.” He praises against your cunt, muffled by the sound of his mouth on you and your desperate moans from above him.

You’re practically incoherent as his expert tongue delves into you, making you rethink every other man you’ve been with.

Before you know it, Bucky is grabbing your ass and hoisting you up again. You’re entirely on him now. His hands support most of your weight and his nose bumps against your clit, making an outlandish moan rip from deep within you. Your legs wrap around his head, rested on his shoulders, fulfilling his dream of suffocating between his thighs.

“B-bucky, oh fuck!” You hiss as his nose somehow hits that spot again against your clit. You’re coming instantly. Your hands curled into his hair, exploding onto his eager tongue. He groans in approval as he laps up all of your juices. Effectively, he stimulates you.

You’re panting as he disconnects from your cunt, gently placing you back on the counter.

He grins at you smugly as he licks his lips, collecting your final remains of slick.

“Delicious, doll. Made me wanna cum in my pants like a damn teenager.” He laughs. You chuckle breathlessly, still collecting yourself after that mind-shattering orgasm. Your legs already feel numb and you doubt you’re going to last the rest of the night like this.

“Y’alright, sweetheart?” He hums. Of course he knows he’s good at eating pussy. He knows your brain is a haze. His lips and chin are glistening. The tip of his nose still has your arousal on it. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be ‘alright’ again.

“Yeah—yeah i’m okay, just want you t’fuck me now.” You whine. Bucky laughs breathlessly. If his dick is anything like his tongue, you’re sure you’re going to see white by the end of this encounter.

He helps you out of your dress, determined to reveal all of you to his gaze. Now your clad in only a pink, lace bra, and he is still fully clothed besides his tie in which he had ripped off earlier.

Bucky takes off his suit jacket and you want to drool. His muscles are revealed, as well as his vibranium arm. It’s supposed to be intimidating, but it only serves to turn you on more. His white undershirt is rolled up to his forearms, making him look the picture of gruff elegance tied into one.

Your eager to undress him but you let him set the torturous pace. You decided to complain once he takes his sweet time with his belt.

“You’re takin’ forever.” You complain. It’s childish and a whine but he simply sends you a look that shuts you up fast.

“That’s the problem with your generation, sweetheart.” He drawls, making you roll your eyes at his old-man-ness. “—You’re so impatient. Especially while you’re still drippin’ all over my counter.” He huffs as he takes off his shirt. He’s scarred over his chest. Bruises, gashes, everything. It makes you want to lick him of his wounds clean. But you control yourself for the most part as he’s slowly shagging down his dress slacks.

“That’s the problem with your generation.” You begin, mirroring his words in a teasing manner. “You take too long to fuck the girl on your counter.” You remind. Bucky grins and crashes his lips against yours. He’s kissing you breathless while shrugging off his boxers. The multi-tasking of it way more hotter than it should be.

He leaves you panting and breathless, stripping you of all further remarks as your finally met with the sight of his cock. He’s hung. Absurdly so. Your mouth waters and your cunt drools. Part of you is scared of him breaking you in half, the other is anticipating for when he finally gets inside of you and makes you scream. He’s thick as he is long. Practically made by heaven itself.

He effortlessly pulls you to the edge of the counter as he runs his tip through your sopping wet folds.

“Much better, doll. Finally some peace and quiet.” He teases, earning himself a glare from you, followed by a whimper as he inches it deeper. You gasp as he slowly pushes inside of you, his eyes watching himself as he enters your accommodating warmth.

Both of you can feel the stretch as he’s finally balls-deep inside of you.

It’s maddening.

Bucky groans as his head falls to your neck. He gives you a second, like the gentlemen he is. You notice his dog tags are still on, the only article of clothing left on his body. He must have tucked them beneath his suit. They’re present now. And your fascinated.

Suddenly, he thrusts, and you lose all train of thought.

You’re practically a babbling mess as he fucks you. He’s a completely different man inside of your cunt. As he picks up the pace, you can hardly make out what he’s saying.

“Fuck. You’re so tight. She feels amazin’, doll, I could bust at any damn second.” He curses. Your head rolls back as his thrusts cause your whole body to shake. It feels amazing. There’s not other word for it besides euphoric.

“What do you need, gorgeous?” He rasps, his voice rough as gravel as his tip kisses your cervix. You gasp as he finds that spot within you. You’re officially teetering on the edge of a vision-blurring orgasm as he laughs slowly.

“Oh, that’s it, yeah? Right there? Oh, fuck, it is.” He groans as he abuses your special spot. You gasp and moan. Your about to cum, you can feel the coil inside of you threatening to snap.

“Please, let me cum.” You beg, your voice hoarse from all the moaning you’ve done tonight. Buckys eyes shoot to yours. There slightly wide, piercing.

“Let you?” He repeats. He’s practically offended. He scoffs and curses beneath his breath. “Dollface, you’re the one letting me fuck you. Cum f’me.” He murmurs. You’re too busy screaming around his cock to care if he’s truly offended or not.

“Bucky!” You cry, followed by a string of moans. You clamp down hard on him. He groans and curses beneath his breath. It’s russian and you have no damn clue what he’s saying, but it sounds so good it pulls another whimper from you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Takaya krasivaya veshch', ya sobirayus' tebya pogubit'.” (such a pretty thing, i plan to ruin you). He rasps. He barely slows down as he fucks you deep. You realize he’s going to coax another orgasm from you, and your a babbling mess.

“C-can’t, can’t, I-I, pl-ease.” You incoherently whine. Bucky grunts. He knows you can. If it was serious he’d stop, no questions asked, but he wants to see your limit.

“You can, sweetheart. Guys your age didn’t know how to touch you, right? Gotta take what I give you now, doll.” He rumbles, you gasp but nod. You want to be good for him. You’re so overstimulated but you fight off the cloud of haze threatening to fog your mind. You whine and nod as his hands find your heavy chest.

He leans down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking generously as his metal hand pinches and plays with your other tit, equalizing the attention as best as he can. He pulls back with a wet ‘pop’ and a grin before repeating his actions on the other side. “Perfect.” He rasps against you, forgetting about where else you two are connected.

You clench around him and he groans, bringing his attention back to what matters most. He pulls back with a dark glint in his eye. He’s getting close. And as he gets close, his mouth gets filthier.

“Offered to buy me a damn drink.” He grumbles as he ruts into you, you moan softly, you can barely understand his mumbling as your eyes screw shut. “What else do you do, doll? Pay on the first date? Hold open the door for these boys you’re with?” He rasps. It’s nearly a growl. He’s practically feral.

“Slid next to me lookin’ like sin wrapped in silk. Pretty fuckin’ girl.” He groaned and tilted his head back. You cum again, milking him for all he’s worth. He didn’t mean to cum inside. But he does. And he doesn’t stop.

You moan in pleasure as he fills you up. If it had been any other one night stand, you would’ve lost it. But you’re on the pill. And it feels so good.

He pants as he slowly pulls out, leaving your combined seeds dripping onto his counter as you both breathe for a moment together. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Luckily for you, Bucky doesn’t do one night stands.

—————————————————————

hii lovelies! ty for reading, as always reqs are open and appreciated💘. (i write for loki, bucky, steve and either weasley twin)

The black compression shirt he’s wearing stretches tight across his chest and shoulders, the kind of bulk that says he’s spent the last thirty days punishing himself in the gym instead of texting you. 

You hate how your brain immediately supplies: He’s been working out to forget me. Or getting ready for someone else. The thought stings more than the January air.

And now you have to force your eyes back to his face while his blue eyes flick over you once, quick, then linger.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than you remember.

“Hey.” You manage a smile that feels brittle. “Happy New Year.”

“Yeah. You too.” He steps back, holding the door wider. “Come in. It’s freezing out there.”

You stay planted on the threshold.

“It’s fine,” you say with your best casual voice. “I’ll wait here.”

Bucky’s brows pull together for half a second. He wets his lips and tilts his head—and lets out a quiet, almost sheepish breath.

“Oh. Uh…” He glances over his shoulder at the box, then back at you. “I was thinking… maybe you’d wanna come in and look around? Just in case I missed something.”

His tone is careful, like he’s testing thin ice.

“Sure, whatever. I can do that.” 

You take off your scarf, and hang it on the coathanger as he closes the door behind you with a quiet click.

He clears his throat, hands shoving into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I, uh… got everything together. Put it in a box. Figured that’d be easier.”

You stand there in the living room, the familiar scent of his cologne in the air. Your fingers linger on the edge of the box as you peer inside—everything folded with that precise, military neatness he always had. Your favorite mug is wrapped carefully in newspaper. Your toothbrush in its little travel case. The books you’d left on the nightstand, spines aligned perfectly.

Behind you, his voice is low, careful. “I put the stuff I bought for you in there too. Intimates, jewelry—all of it. It’s yours. Do whatever you want with it… throw it out, sell it, burn it, your choice.”

The words hit like a slap you didn’t see coming. You swallow hard, throat raw. “I thought you already did.”

A long, heavy silence. Then the scrape of his hand over his face, a sound so tired it makes your chest ache.

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he says, voice cracking on the last word.

You shrug, gripping the box flap until the cardboard bites into your fingers. “Didn’t sound like it at the time.”

Another beat of silence—thick, suffocating.

“You said you were leaving,” he says, quieter now, closer. “You said you were done with me. And then you were gone. I sat in this apartment for weeks staring at your side of the bed like a fucking idiot, waiting for a text that never came. I was angry. I was hurt. So yeah—I said shit to hurt you back. And I’ve hated myself for it every single day since.”

Your eyes burn. You’ve pictured him moving on a thousand times—new girl, new life, your stuff in the trash without a second thought. Hearing he didn’t… hearing he’s been suffering too… it doesn’t fix anything. It just makes the ache sharper.

He keeps going, voice barely above a whisper. “I saw your posts. You looked… happy. Smiling in every photo. And I kept thinking—good. Good, she’s better off. She’s free of me. Because I know what I am. I know I’m difficult. I know I shut down when the work gets bad. I know I’m not easy to love.” A ragged breath. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to walk on eggshells. I’m sorry I ever made you feel small. I just… I miss you so much it’s hard to breathe sometimes. And it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Your vision blurs. You turn to face him slowly.

He’s standing a few feet away, shoulders curled inward like he’s bracing for a blow, eyes red-rimmed, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle jumping. His hand is still half-raised from scrubbing over his face, like he forgot what to do with it.

The words hang between you, ugly and honest. You want to scream at him. You want to hit him. You want to disappear.

Instead you whisper, “It doesn’t matter now.”

You bend, haul the box up—heavier than your heart—and head for the door.

“Oh come on.” His voice cracks fully this time. Footsteps quick and panicked. “I’m trying here. I’m sorry. I mean it.”

Heavy footsteps follow you to the door.

“I didn’t ask you to come get your clothes today because I wanted you gone,” he says, raw. “I asked because it was an excuse to see you again. One more time. Even if it hurt.”

You’re almost at the entryway when he steps in front of you, blocking the narrow hall. 

Gently, firmly, he lifts the box from your arms and sets it down.

His hands settle on your shoulders, trembling.

His eyes are glassy and pleading. “If you’re really done… if you don’t love me anymore… say it. Say it to my face, and I’ll let you walk out that door and I’ll never bother you again. I swear.”

You stare up at him. Those blue eyes—stormy, wrecked, more open than you’ve ever seen them. A month of distance collapses into this single moment, and it hurts so much you can barely breathe.

A broken laugh escapes you. “You’re cruel,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You know I can’t.”

Tears spill hot down your cheeks. You try to turn away, but his hand cups your face, thumb brushing the tears like he’s afraid you’ll shatter.

“Look at me,” he whispers again, closer now, forehead almost touching yours. “Tell me you’re done. Tell me you don’t love me. And I’ll let you go. Even if it fucking kills me.”

You crumble.

“How can I—” The words rip out of you, raw and ragged. “I love you. God, Bucky, I love you, you’re so—”

His lips crash onto yours like he’s been starving for this—for you—in the last thirty days. His tongue sliding against yours, claiming every inch of your mouth like he’s trying to erase the distance, the fight, the silence. 

His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears tracking down your cheeks, but he doesn’t gentle the kiss—if anything, he deepens it, stealing the air from your lungs until your head spins harder and black spots dance at the edges of your vision.

You melt into him, helpless. Your hands fist in the front of his compression shirt, pulling him closer even as your knees threaten to buckle. 

A soft, desperate sound escapes your throat and he swallows it, pressing you back until your shoulders meet the nearby wall.

A low sound rumbles in his throat as the contact ignites—chest to chest, hips to hips—and you feel the shudder that rolls through him.

One of his thighs slides between yours, pinning you there, and the solid weight of him is overwhelming—broad chest, corded arms, the new muscle he’s built like armor against the world without you. 

His hands leave your face, skating down your neck, over your coat, until he’s gripping your waist and lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around his hips on instinct, the box forgotten on the floor.

He murmurs something wordless against your lips before he nips gently at your bottom one, teasing, testing. The bite is soft, then sharper, a sweet sting that he immediately soothes with a slow, languid kiss. Again and again—bite, kiss, savor—until your lips are swollen and tingling and you’re arching into him without meaning to.

You open for him without hesitation, and his tongue slips inside again, tangling with yours in a slow, sensual dance until you’re breathless.

It emboldens him; you feel it in the way his grip tightens.

He tenses, every muscle coiling as he presses forward, the kiss turning firmer, more insistent. His mouth moves over yours—angling, retreating, claiming, wringing pleasure from you in gasps you can’t hold back.

His body hardens against yours, arousal throbbing hot and demanding between your legs. Another low moan escapes him as he rocks subtly into you, the friction sending white-hot sparks racing up your spine.

The need builds too fast, too fierce, until you both rip apart at the same moment—lips parting with a suction that echoes in the charged silence. You're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked in a haze of raw want.

"Can we..." you gasp, voice husky, barely recognizable, "do this somewhere more comfortable?"

A rough chuckle rumbles from his chest, vibrating against you. "God, yes."

He doesn't let go. His mouth crashes back to yours in a searing kiss, hungry and laughing all at once, as his hands start working. 

Fingers tug at your coat, shoving it off your shoulders; it hits the floor with a soft thud. You stumble backward together, lips barely separating, toward the couch, his hands peeling away layers like he's unwrapping a late christmas present. Your jeans go next—his vibranium fingers cool and precise on the button, flesh hand dragging the denim down your thighs until you kick them free.

By the time you tumble onto the couch, you're straddling him, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. Your shirt clings to you, the only barrier left, and his sweatpants do nothing to hide the thick, rigid length of him pressing up against your core.

His tongue tangles with yours again, deep and possessive, as the fingers of his right hand trail up the side of your body—mapping every curve. He stops at the swell of your breast, palm cupping it gently, feeling the weight in his hand. A low, guttural groan vibrates against your mouth, and you feel him swell even harder beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric separating you.

“Jesus,” he mutters, voice wrecked, before slipping his hand under your shirt and bra. 

Warm flesh meets bare skin as he cups you fully, squeezing with just the right pressure—caressing, kneading—until another groan tears from him, deeper this time, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

His thumb circles your nipple, slow and teasing, and the spark of pleasure shoots straight through you. You gasp into his mouth, arching hard against him, the sudden sting of it making your thighs clench around his.

With a rough tug, he pushes your shirt and bra up, exposing your breast to the cool air—your nipple tight and aching, begging. His eyes darken, devouring the sight.

“Fuck. You are so beautiful—you missed me didn’t you?” he whispers, before lowering his head. His lips brush the sensitive peak in a soft kiss, tongue flicking out to taste you, savoring like you're the sweetest thing he's ever had.

The wet heat of his mouth closes over you fully then—tongue swirling languidly around your nipple, sucking softly, teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out. Pleasure floods you in waves, intense and overwhelming, pooling hot and liquid between your legs. 

Every brush of his lips, every pull of his mouth, every gentle scrape of teeth—it's torture, exquisite and unrelenting, building that tight coil inside you until you're trembling, on the edge already from this alone.

His free hand—the vibranium one—slides to your ass, gripping firmly, urging you to move. You grind down on him instinctively, rolling your hips against the hard ridge of his trapped cock. The friction is maddening, and his fingers slip lower behind, stroking you through the thin, soaked fabric of your underwear—teasing your clit in firm circles that match the rhythm of his mouth on your breast.

You moan louder, head falling on the crook of his neck, as he tilts his head to take you deeper—sucking harder, tongue lashing your nipple until it's swollen and throbbing. The dual assault—his mouth devouring your breast, his fingers working you relentlessly while you grind on his thick length—has you shattering toward release, every nerve alight, body slick and desperate for more of him.

Your hips buck harder, desperate and shameless, chasing the pressure of his thigh and of his cock straining against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Every roll drags the seam over your aching clit, amplified by the circles of his vibranium fingers—cool metal warmed by your heat, slick with how drenched you are.

Bucky pulls off your breast with a wet pop, lips shiny, eyes dark and feral as he watches you unravel. His breath fans hot over the sensitive, swollen peak he just abandoned.

“You gonna come?” he rasps, voice low and wrecked, thumb pressing firmer against your clit in a ruthless rhythm that matches the grind of your hips. “Come on me, baby. Let me feel you soak through everything. I want it fucking dripping down my thigh.”

The words hit like a spark to gasoline. Your body locks up—back arching, nails digging into his shoulders—as the orgasm slams into you, sharp and blinding. A broken cry tears from your throat, hips jerking helplessly against him while you pulse and clench around nothing. 

He doesn’t let up, fingers working you through it, drawing it out until you’re trembling, oversensitive, gasping his name.

“Yeah, baby—say my name just like that,” Bucky groans, voice thick and ragged as your cries echo his name again and again through the aftershocks. His vibranium hand slides up your thigh, fingers tracing the slick mess you’ve made. He glances down, eyes darkening at the dark wet patch spreading across his gray sweatpants. “Fuck, look at my pants. Jesus Christ, you soaked right through ‘em.”

He lets out a low, wrecked laugh, forehead pressed to yours for a beat before he pulls back just enough to growl, “Let me just—”

He reaches behind his head and yanks the compression shirt off, tossing it aimlessly. His hair falls messier across his forehead, chest rising and falling hard, every new ridge of muscle on display from the last month of brutal workouts. You’re already helping him, hands greedy at the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them down caught in the frenzy until they pool at his ankles. He steps out of them, kicking them aside.

You drop lower, mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, across the broad plane of his chest, tongue flicking over a nipple just to hear him hiss. Then lower, over the cut lines of his abs, tasting salt and warm skin. Your tongue darts out again, tracing the between the V that disappears below, and he drags a hand over his face with a muffled, “God, you’re so fucking sexy doing it like that.”

He looks back down, blue eyes blown wide and hungry.

You chuckle low, the sound vibrating against his skin as your hand slips under the last scrap of fabric—his boxers—palming the heavy length of him. He tenses, abs flexing under your lips, a sharp inhale whistling through his teeth. You tug the waistband down slow enough to tease, and his cock springs free—thick, flushed, curving up toward his stomach with a bead of precum already glistening at the tip.

You lean in, lips parting, and take just the head into your mouth—slow, luxuriant, tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge. 

He twitches hard against your tongue, a guttural “Ohh baby—” ripping out of him as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. You feel him swell even fuller in the wet heat of your mouth, hardening impossibly in seconds like his body’s been waiting a month for this exact moment.

You work lower, taking more of his shaft inch by inch until your lips meet your fingers wrapped around the base, then slide back up, hollowing your cheeks, tongue lavishing the head again with greedy circles. You pull off just long enough to look up at him through your lashes, lips shiny and swollen, a wicked little smile curving your mouth.

The look on his face—brows pinched tight, jaw clenched like he’s in pain, eyes dark and desperate—tells you everything. It’s definitely been a while.

Your free hand cups his balls, heavy and drawn up tight, rolling them gently, tugging just enough to make him throw his head back with a broken curse, vibranium fingers tangling in your hair.

“Shit—I’m so sensitive,” he rasps, voice cracking, looking down again with that wild, pleading edge. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You pull off him with a lewd, wet pop. His cock—glistening thick and slick from your mouth—bobs heavily in front of your face, flushed dark and veined, a string of saliva still connecting your bottom lip to the swollen tip.

You let out a low, throaty giggle, eyes locked on his as you tilt your head and stick your tongue out flat. Then you guide his length with your hand, slapping the heavy weight of it against your tongue once, twice, three times—hard enough to make wet, filthy smacks, precum and spit smearing across your taste buds and chin in shiny streaks.

Bucky’s breath punches out of him in a shocked laugh as he stares down at the sight, vibranium fingers tightening in your hair.

“Holy shit,” he rasps, voice wrecked and incredulous, a dazed grin pulling at his mouth. “You dirty fucking girl.”

You hum, pleased and wicked, letting the head rest heavy on your outstretched tongue again, giving it a slow, lick from base to tip while you look up at him through wet lashes.

His thighs flex hard, abs clenching, and a low, desperate groan rumbles out of his chest.

“Baby,” he warns, hips shifting forward just an inch—like he’s already fighting not to thrust. “You keep playing like that and I’m not gonna last.”

You pull back just enough, lips brushing the sensitive underside as you murmur, voice husky and teasing, “Good. You can come in my mouth.”

The words hit him like a punch—his eyes flare wide, dark blue gone almost black, a ragged “Fuck—” punching out of him as his cock jerks hard against your lips. You don’t wait for more; you sink down again, taking him deep in one smooth glide until he hits the back of your throat. Your hand works the base in tight, twisting strokes while the other keeps teasing his balls, rolling them gently, feeling how tight and full they are.

He’s unraveling fast—head falling back, throat working on a swallow, a string of broken curses spilling out as his hips start to rock in shallow thrusts he can’t quite control.

“God, your mouth—feels so fucking good,” he pants, looking down again with that pinched, wrecked expression, like pleasure’s bordering on pain. “Not gonna… fuck, baby, I’m close—”

You hear the warning in his voice, feel it in the way his cock throbs heavier against your tongue, but it only spurs you on. 

You double down—suction tightening, cheeks hollowing as you bob faster, hand twisting in that perfect corkscrew motion guys swear by, the one that strokes him root to tip in sync with your mouth. Your tongue presses flat against the sensitive frenulum on every upstroke, flicking quick, while your other hand never stops its worship of his balls—rolling them gently, then tugging downward just enough to heighten the pull.

You pull off for a breath, dropping lower to take one ball into your mouth, sucking soft but firm, tongue swirling as your fist pumps his slick shaft in twisting pulls. 

His thighs quake harder, a strangled “Fuck—yes—” ripping out as you switch back to his cock, taking him deep again, throat relaxing to swallow around the head while your fingers keep that gentle downward tension on his balls.

His hips stutter, vibranium hand leaving your hair to grip the edge of the couch—his whole body goes rigid, abs clenching visibly as the orgasm barrels through him.

“Shit, I’m gonna come—I’m coming, I’m coming—” he chokes out, and then he’s pulsing hard against your tongue, thick ropes of cum flooding your mouth in hot, heavy spurts. You swallow greedily, milking him with your lips and hand, drawing it out until he’s shuddering violently, a low, broken groan dragging from his chest.

When it finally ebbs, he slumps against the couch, chest heaving, cock slipping from your lips with a wet sound. You sit back on your heels, licking the corner of your mouth, watching him come down with a satisfied little smile.

Bucky drags a shaky hand through his messy hair, letting out a breathless, incredulous laugh—the classic post-nut clarity hitting hard, loose and dazed.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he pants, voice hoarse, blue eyes wide and still a little glazed as he stares down at you. Another huff of laughter escapes him, fond and wrecked. “Jesus, baby. You trying to ruin me for good?”

He reaches down, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip, smearing the gloss there like he can’t help himself.

You lick your lips slowly, tasting him still, and meet his glazed eyes with a soft, teasing smile.

“Just my way of saying sorry to you. . .” you murmur, voice husky from everything you just did to him.

Bucky’s breathless laugh turns darker and hungrier. He sinks fully onto the couch now, legs spread, chest still heaving as he reaches for you with both hands, pulling you up from your knees.

“Come here,” he says, low and rough, patting his thigh. “Sit on me. I’m not done with you yet.”

His cock rests heavy against his stomach, semi-soft and glistening from your mouth, twitching faintly like it’s already eager for round two. You don’t hesitate—clothes half-shed, you strip off what’s left.

You know exactly what he loves, what gets him hard again. 

Lowering yourself slowly, you drag your bare, soaked pussy along his length—just slick skin on skin. The head of his cock nudges your clit on the first pass, and you both groan at the contact. You rock forward again, grinding slow and languid, coating him in your wetness, feeling him thicken and harden beneath you with every slide.

Bucky’s head falls back against the couch for a second, eyes hooded, before he snaps his gaze down to watch—transfixed by the sight of your folds parting around his shaft, gliding up and down, your arousal making everything shiny and messy.

“Oh my God,” he hisses through clenched teeth, hips lifting just slightly to chase the friction. “That’s it… just like that.”

You guide his hands up to your breasts, pressing them into his palms, and he doesn’t need more invitation. His flesh hand cups one, thumb circling the nipple before pinching while the vibranium one mirrors the motion on the other, cool metal warming fast against your skin. He tugs and rolls your nipples between his fingers, twisting just hard enough to make you gasp and grind down firmer, your clit dragging along his now fully hard length.

Every rock of your hips pulls a low rumble from his chest, his cock throbbing hot and rigid between your folds, precum mixing with your slickness until you’re both dripping.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, voice gravel-rough, eyes dark as he watches himself disappear and reappear between your lips with every roll. “Using that pretty pussy to get me hard again…”

You nod slowly, breath hitching as you grind down one last time, feeling him throb fully hard and ready between your slick folds.

“How do you want me?” you ask, voice soft and needy, eyes locked on his.

Bucky’s lips curve into a wolfish smile.

“How do I want you?” he echoes, voice low and rough, vibranium hand sliding down to grip your hip possessively. “I want you under me, baby. Ankles right beside your ears.” His eyes darken further, thumb stroking your skin. “How do you want to take it? Rough? Slow?”

You lean in, pecking his lips quick and teasing, a breathless laugh escaping you. “That’s up to you.”

His brows lift, surprise flickering before that hungry edge sharpens again. “You really trusting me to leave it up to me?” He swallows hard, throat working, gaze searching yours for a beat—like he’s making sure. Then he exhales, soft and resolute. “Alright. We can take it slow.”

He shifts, strong arms lifting you effortlessly as he moves you both to the chaise end of the sectional, laying you back against the soft leather. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of your skin, and he settles between your thighs, nudging them wider with his knees.

“Get in position for me,” he murmurs, voice deep and commanding, sending a shiver straight through you. “Ankles up by your ears. And spread that pretty pussy—use your fingers on both sides of your lips. Show it to me.”

You obey without hesitation, legs folding back until your ankles frame your face, knees splayed wide. Your hands slide down, fingers parting your slick, swollen folds, baring yourself completely—glistening, aching, dripping for him.

Bucky groans low and guttural, eyes locked on you like he’s starving. “Fuck, look at that… I just wanna eat that pussy, but next time—right now, I need to fuck you.”

He leans over you, one hand bracing beside your head, the other guiding his thick cock. He slaps it against you once, twice—wet, heavy thuds that make you gasp and clench around nothing. Then the broad head teases you—rubbing slow circles over your clit, then dragging down to nudge your entrance. 

He presses in just barely, stretching you open an inch before pulling back. Again—deeper, teasing—until he surges forward in one controlled thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

The stretch is overwhelming, his thick length splitting you wide as your walls flutter and grip him. A muffled moan tears from your throat; his rumbles deep in his chest, ragged and desperate.

“Oh fuck—” he murmurs, forehead dropping to yours. 

He stills, hips flush, letting you feel every pulsing inch—impossibly deep in this folded position, the head kissing your cervix until your toes curl beside your ears.

Then he pulls back slow, dragging every ridge along your walls, before slamming home again. Each thrust jolts through you, wet slaps echoing, your slick coating him, dripping where you’re joined. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you pinned open, helpless to his rhythm.

“Look at you,” he rasps between thrusts, voice wrecked, eyes flicking from your face to where he disappears into you. “Taking me so deep… feel how full you are, baby?”

His control frays—breaths rougher, hips snapping harder as you gasp, “Fuck me like that.” Sweat beads on his skin, vibranium hand tightening on your thigh.

He locks eyes with you. “Look down,” he orders, gravel-rough. “Watch me fuck this pretty pussy. Watch how you take every inch.”

You obey, gaze dropping to where your folds stretch tight around his glistening shaft, swallowing him whole on every sink.

“That’s it,” he growls, pace turning heavier, more possessive. He slams deep, grinds slow circles against that spot that sparks stars behind your eyes. “You feel me? Feel how deep I am? I’m not letting you go this time—never again.”

He rasps against your ear, thrusting faster—balls-deep slams marking you inside out. “Gonna fuck a hole inside you only I can fill.”

“Oh God—yes,” you choke out, voice breaking on every word as tears prick your eyes from the intensity.

“Yeah?” His eyes lock on yours, wild and undone, but soft at the edges with everything he hasn’t said in a month. “You want me to give you everything? Want me to knock you up so you never forget who you belong to—who you love?”

You nod frantically, nails raking down his back. “Yes—God, yes—don’t stop—”

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, vibranium hand sliding to your lower belly, pressing just enough for you to feel him moving inside you. “Gonna give you all of me. Gonna love you so fucking deep you’ll feel me for days—every time you move, you’ll know you’re mine.”

His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick skin sliding, thrusts frantic now—hips snapping, chaise rocking.

“Look at me,” he rasps, cupping your jaw. His blue eyes lock wild and intense. “I love you too—fuck, I love you.”

“I love—”

His mouth crashes onto yours, devouring, tongue thrusting in time with his cock as he ruts like he’s possessed—pouring a month of longing into every slam. His vibranium arm hooks your knee tighter, folding you impossibly deeper.

“Bucky—I’m gonna come—”

He grunts into the kiss, nipping your lip. “Then come. I want that pretty pussy squeezing me first.”

His thumb finds your clit, circling hard in sync with his relentless thrusts—and you shatter.

“Yes—yes—” you cry, walls clenching vise-tight, pulsing around him as pleasure whites out everything. Your nails dig bloody trails down his back; he hisses, thrusts erratic, chasing your climax.

His hips stutter, losing all rhythm as the pressure coils unbearably tight at the base of his spine.

“Fuck—oh fuck—” The words fracture against your neck, muffled and raw. His cock jerks again and again, thick ropes of semen flooding deep in hot, endless surges while he grinds slow circles. Each spasm drags helpless whine from him, hips grinding instinctively, dragging every last shuddering drop as far into you as he can get.

Finally spent, his body sags heavily on top of you—warm, sweat-slick weight pressing you into the chaise cushions, chest heaving with ragged pants against your throat. 

You unfold slowly, legs trembling as you lower them, ankles sliding down his sides until your thighs bracket his hips. The shift draws a soft groan from him—cock still buried deep, softening but reluctant to leave, letting gravity ease him out with a warm trickle of your mixed release leaking onto the leather.

Bucky lifts his head just enough to find your mouth, kissing you sweetly—slow, tender presses of his lips, gentle brushes of tongue, no hunger now, only devotion. He trails soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

He stays close, forehead resting against yours, the faint sheen of sweat cooling between you in the dim glow of the lamps. Those blue eyes, heavy-lidded and unguarded, trace your face like he’s memorizing you all over again.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with leftover want, thumb stroking slow along your cheekbone. “So fucking much.”

You lean up just enough to brush a soft peck against his lips, lingering there a second before pulling back. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, guilt threading through the words. “I’ll be more mindful when you’re stressed. I didn’t mean to push.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh, the sound warm and forgiving as he nuzzles closer, lips grazing yours again. “It’s okay, baby. Honestly? Best kind of stress relief I’ve had in weeks.” The corner of his mouth quirks—that familiar teasing glint flickering back into his eyes. “Might start picking fights on purpose if this is how we make up.”

He steals one more slow, sweet kiss before easing his weight off you. The cool air of the room rushes between your thighs, sticky and sensitive, and he notices the way you shift. “C’mon, let me clean you up.”

Before you can protest, he’s sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you effortlessly against his chest in a bridal carry. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, legs dangling, still boneless and floating as he pads barefoot across the living room toward the bathroom.

That’s when you glance over his shoulder—and freeze.

The tall brownstone windows are thrown wide open, sheer curtains pushed aside, and directly across the narrow street, in the window of the opposite brownstone, Mrs. Kowalski—the sweet little old lady who always bakes too many cookies and leaves them on Bucky’s stoop—is standing there in her robe, sipping coffee.

She’s holding up both hands, fingers splayed: a perfect 10.

Then she gives an enthusiastic thumbs-up, mouths “Happy New Year!” and adds a cheeky little golf clap.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, mortified heat flooding your face as you duck your head into Bucky’s neck.

Bucky slows, brow furrowing at the sudden tension in your body. “What?”

“Don’t—don’t turn around,” you hiss, burying your face deeper into his neck. “You’ll flash the entire block.”

Bucky freezes mid-step, confusion flickering before realization hits him like a truck. He’s stark naked, dick out in the breeze, carrying you the same way. His eyes widen, a rare flush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears—the Winter Soldier actually blushing.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, shifting his hold on you instinctively to angle his hips away from the window, using your body like a very strategic human shield. He risks one quick, awkward sideways glance—just enough to spot Mrs. K’s scorecard performance—then snaps his gaze forward again, jaw tight and cringing from motification.

Mrs. Kowalski winks, points at you both like a proud matchmaker, and shuffles off—probably to speed dial her bridge club with the gossip of the century.

Bucky exhales a choked laugh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as his whole body vibrates with it. “Well… at least we got a perfect score?” he manages, voice strained between amusement and genuine mortification. “Fuck, I’m never living this down. She’s gonna tell the whole block I’ve still got it.”

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Of course, your father sent his best enforcers to track you down. He probably thought it would soften the blow since it was Bucky. You trusted him most of all out of his men. 

Bucky looked almost bored leaning against his car, his hair blowing in the light breeze. You liked the leather jacket on him. You half expected him to show up on his bike, but that wouldn’t be practical if you tried to fight. 

He’d win anyway. 

“I’m not going back,” you told him, your eyes as defiant as your tone.  

He sighed, but he made no move to grab you yet. “You shouldn’t have run.”

“And my dad shouldn’t try to force a marriage on me, but here we are,” you snapped.

You stupidly thought Bucky would speak up for you when your dad said the alliance with a total stranger would strengthen the families. It was a foolish thought. You weren’t together. 

But you hoped…

And I am feeling so small

It was over my head

I know nothing at all

You backed up when Bucky suddenly moved toward you in purposeful strides. There was violence in his eyes. But he would never hurt you. 

“And you should’ve trusted me to handle it,” he said through his teeth. 

Your heart pounded. Bucky hardly ever let his emotions show. That was a reason why your dad liked him. He was lethal. Efficient. 

Cold.

Not like this. 

“I-”

He gripped your chin tenderly. “Do you really think I’ll sit back while you marry someone else?”

Your eyes widened. 

Did… Bucky want you?

“Get in the car,” he ordered gently. “And trust me.”

You didn’t want to go back. 

But you had to trust that Bucky had a plan. 

He has to have a plan, right? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

The slow, steady thud of his shoes is in dichotomy with your racing heartbeat. He's blocking the only exit, the flashing red sign above the door might as well be miles away. You sprint to your left, scrambling up the stairs to the stage.

Bucky removes his jacket, tossing it on an empty table, watching you search for an escape you won't find.

"Now you can come down here and apologize." Bucky offers, stopping in front the stage, his head tilting back to gaze up at you. "Or I can come up there and make you."

"Fuck you."

Bucky shrugs with coy amusement. "Don't worry Kisa, you will. I'd never deny my sweet little wife anything when she asks so nicely."

You glance over your shoulder, calculating your chances of getting away when a soft rustle sends your head turning back in time to see Bucky gracefully hoisting himself up on the stage. His lithe agility highlights the sheer power lying underneath his tailored suit.

"I'm not yours," you snarl, stepping back. "I'm not your fucking wife."

Bucky grins, his brows raising playfully.

That's technically true.

An egregious oversight that he plans on correcting.

Tonight.

He reaches out, his fingers clasps over your wrist and he pulls you into his firm chest. You raise your fist but he manages to get both of your hands behind your back, manhandling with an ease you resent.

you loved cooking for him, after he comes home from a long day in the lumbar yard, sweat sticking to his sinking and covered in a fine layer of sawdust. it usually made you sneeze when he would walk through the door, so he has started to strip before coming in.

your cheeks always flushed when he would come back inside with just the white wife pleaser sticking to his chest and his jeans. you could tell he enjoyed how you reacted when you see him, mostly peeking up through your lashes trying to stay focused on whatever task you had at hand.

just like tonight.

he was a little late, but you didn’t mind. you knew on friday’s he took a little longer to get home to you because he was busy prepping the wood for next week. he took his job seriously, and you took him seriously for it too. never once did you ever complain when he would arrive home later than he would promise you that morning of, you knew what his work demanded of you, especially in a small town like this.

“hi babydoll,” his gruff voice found your ears before you gazed up at him with a blush, a smile ghosting your lips. he lets out a sigh as he brushes his hair over his ear, the braid you gave him this morning falling out of its pattern. “sorry i’m late.” he hangs up his flannel on the coat rack, and even though you didn’t need an apology for him being late — he always gave you one anyways.

“that’s okay, buck.” you answer, almost automatically. you loved the rhythm you both had fallen into, something else as a dance that you normally couldn’t do. but he made sure to guide you through the whole thing.

he smiles, watching you pick at some of the petals you had in your hand wanting to use them to press later. as he comes up behind you, you feel a tense shift in the air. the sun was two hours from setting, casting a bright glow in the front room of the cottage. it illuminated his arm, the glint making you tense your thighs at any thoughts of him using it on you.

his hands fall on your waist, and although you can still smell the days sweat soaking on his skin, you could smell the musk of the cologne he sprayed this morning, making sure to put it under his pulse points he knew you loved shoving your head into. his chest brushes against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist now and gently pulling your body into his. you feel a bulge brush against your lower back, a bloom in your stomach making you hold back a whine.

he knew, though. at this point he knew every single reaction your body had, no matter how many times he touched you, kissed you, took you on his cock. he knew exactly what made you tick and bye sure as hell he would use it to his advantage every single time.

“you look pretty today, baby…” his chin rests on your exposed shoulder — a baby blue sundress adorned your skin and stopping at the mid of your thighs, ribbons tying the shoulder straps delicately. a white lace ribbon held the middle of your dress together, one slight pull of the string and it would come undone, exposing yourself under bucky’s gaze.

“thank you, i wore this one for you…” you wore all of them for him, you loved the way they made you feel, almost as much as you loved how he looked at you when you dressed up for him. he presses a kiss into your shoulder, his nose nudging up the side of your neck and his stubble rubbing your sensitive skin until his lips. were right under your ear lobe.

his right hand ventures down further the front of your dress, fingers dancing to find the the end of the dress together bunch up in this hold. you hold a shuddered breath as he chuckles against your skin, feeling nothing under neath the sundress you had on.

“and you didn’t wear anything underneath, hm?” he muses, and you nodded, body slightly relaxing into his frame as he brings his left hand to hold against the edge of the counter and caging you further into the wood. he didn’t want you going anywhere.

“n-no… ‘s too warm today..” you mumbled, half lying and half telling the truth. you didn’t know why you felt so worked up when he would touch you and find that you hadn’t worn anything underneath. you didn’t understand why you wanted to tease him like this, only that you knew that he would make you feel so fucking good. and that was enough for you.

he nods, listening to your complaint as he kisses the skin against your lower ear. “i hear ya, baby.” He grunts softly as you absentmindedly press your hips into him, taking his hands from underneath your sundress and turning you around, your back against the countertop.

“buck, wha-“ he presses he is finger against your lips to shush you, a smile on his lips.

“shh, let me take care of you, hm?” you bite your lip, unsure how this would cool you down, but you couldn’t say no to him as he looks at you like that when he sinks down onto his knees. you gape your mouth gently, wanting to protest as he takes one of your legs and hooks it around his shoulder, thigh pressing firmly into his left shoulder. the metal cooled your skin instantly, but you were too distracted on the hands that stayed under your thighs, traveling up to your hips and angling your cunt towards his face.

your sundress was bunched at your hips, exposed to him in the glow of the sunset. his nose bumped your clit as his eyes looked up at you, breath ghosting over your soaked entrance. he smirks as you open your mouth to say something but you get cut off when he wraps his lips around your clit and tongue flicking slightly, making your brain stop short and hips stutter.

“c’mon baby, let daddy eat..” he murmurs against your cunt before he presses harder, letting go of your clit and tongue dipping to your folds, and licking like a fucking starved man. like he didn’t enjoy your delicious breakfast and lunch you had made him today for work.

like he had never tasted something that was this sweet in his entire life. and honestly, he cannot say he has tasted anything sweeter than you.

eventually you let him settle into the routine of flicking his tongue through your soaked folds, drinking you in before he used that same tongue to fuck your hole and his nose nudging against your clit with each move of his face.

he had you as a moaning mess above him, your and had found their way to his messy brown curly hair, tugging on the strands to bring him closer to you if that was even physically possible. you needed him, craved him so fucking bad even while he was giving you exactly what you were asking for.

“sound so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart..” he groans against your core, a blush sweeping your cheeks, warming your face. you couldn’t help the shiver that ran hourglass your body at the praise, fingers tightening in his hair. he brings his right hand from under your thigh to tease your hole with his fingers, his tongue licking at your clit lazily. your hips stuttered against his face, his eyes peering up over he mound of your bush. he nuzzled his nose deeper into you as he closed his eyes and sunk two fingers into you slowly.

you let out a moan, trying to rut your hips against his face and fingers but he wouldnt let you move from the position he had you in.

“want you to make a mess like this, babydoll.” he grunts against you, slipping his fingers deeper and deeper until he was knuckle deep and you could feel him curl his fingers deep inside of you. the wet sounds picked up as he started thrusting his fingers at the same pace hie sucked your clit, keeping the same rhythm as you moaned a little louder with each stroke

he loved having you come undone like this underneath him, singing songs of gospel every time he pulled his fingers out and pushed back in. he loved your body twitching as your clit throbbed under his tongue, pulling you closer and closer to the edge that only he could send you to.

“thats it, there you go…” he coaxes you softly, pulling the sweetest moans and whines from your lips, fingers digging deeper into his scalp and feeling the tight knot in your stomach that could only mean one thing.

you squeezed his fingers tightly earning a moan from him, his fingers scissoring inside of you while he pulls away enough to look at you and his thumb goes to circle your clit as he fucks you with his two fingers. he feels how close you are, how youre gripping him like a damn vice. it was everything he would want and more.

“c’mon, give it to me,” his encouragement has your toes curling, eyes slipping shut as you feel yourself teeter off the edge and falling right into his hands. making a mess all over his fingers and moth, dripping down to his chin. he smiles as he fucks you through your first orgasm, one of many he was going to get from you this evening.

“good girl…” he praises you as he kisses your inner thigh, slowly drawing his fingers from your sloppy cunt, your own eyes locking with his as your chest heaves, cheeks heated and warm from coming. he smiles, licking his lips as he lowers your leg from over his shoulder, letting you stabilize yourself before he cups your head with his left hand and bringing your lips against his — tasting yourself on his tongue

you both moan into each others mouth, your own hands seeking his body, his skin and his warmth. you need to be wrapped up in all things him.

“want to play a little game?” he murmurs against your lips and your body shivers with anticipation, nervousness. what could he possibly he hinting at? you nod against his lips before hes pulling away and taking his fingers that were knuckle deep inside you two seconds ago, slipping them past his lips and cleaning them off. he moans around his own fingers, eyes glinting with lust as he watches you carefully.

“want to see how far you can make it out there before the sun goes down and i catch you?” you look outside, your cunt clenching at the very idea of hiding from him in those woods, him hunting you and seeing where you went. you knew there was no chance of actually getting lost but like you said earlier — you didn’t know any inch of the woods surrounding your cottage.

that didnt matter though.

the only thought you had was bucky finally finding you and taking you up against the trunk of a large tree, bark scratching against your skin as skin slaps on skin and hes groaning in your ear how good you feel wrapped around his —

“ill take that as a yes, babydoll.” he chuckles, seeing you stare far of, but he heard your heart rate pick up at the mention of him catching you.

he knew you better than you knew yourself.

you blushed against, hopefully that he couldn’t tell but he did. he always did.

“i’ll give you a running start of one minute, then.” he leans to murmur in your ear, his lips attaching to your neck and sucking the most sensitive part of your neck, making your knees buckle. he sucked a mark into your precious skin, running his tongue over the mark before pulling away and cupping your chin with his metal hand to make you look up at him.

“starting…now,” he smiles as he lets go of your chin and instantly, you stood up straighter and senses dialed to eleven. you turn on your heel, trying to muster up the strength again after coming on his fingers as he tapped your butt on your way out of the cottage.

he stood up straighter with you as he watched you leave through the front door, and past the open windows. the window billowing your skirt around you with your hair whipping around you, the sun gleaming onto you. “beautiful girl,” he says to himself, smiling as he toes off his boots and socks, matching your barefoot trek into the woods. he wanted to feel the grass against his own skin, the warmth the soil brings when the sun kisses it long enough during the day.

he wanted to feel more connected to you before finding you.

you felt the warmth whip around you as your toes sunk into the warm earth, the clovers tickling your ankles as the breezed back and forth in the wind. the wildflowers growing towards the direction of the sun’s beams, wanting to be kissed by her.

you looked back towards the cottage, seeing bucky’s shadow move through the cottage in the front room. you wondered what he was doing before you remembered he gave you a count down.

quite honestly, he wasn’t keep in track if a minute had passed or not. he just watched you leave through the line of the dense trees, your hand running against the rough bark as the sun hides behind the green foliage birthed by the long and populated trees surrounding you.

you take in a deep breath, hearing a soft babbling of a brook to your left and the leaves rubbing against each other above you. the soft grass between your toes helped you ground you, even if you had no idea where you were going.

as you trailed on, your heart hammered in your chest at the thought of bucky being right behind you, ready to bend you over the nearest tree and take you from behind. your blood pulsed at the thought, not even realizing that he could hear your heart beating hammering in your chest, that he could smell your cunt with each thought of him thrusting inside of you, owning you like you needed.

you figured that at least ten minutes had gone by and you hadn’t even heard the sharp snapping of a branch under the weight of a step nor the rustling of leaves. it made you shiver, knowing the sun was going down at this point and a bit of fear pulsed through your body. you knew you were safe, but knowing bucky was out there, watching you as it got darker ignited something in you.

he could pick up on your body changes, and it only made him throb inside his pants. he had an idea where you were in a general area — but you were so light on your feet that e couldn’t pinpoint an exact location of you. it frustrated him, knowing it would take a bit longer to find and claim you.

he palmed himself gently, letting out a soft groan at the thought of being able to find you and take you on the forrest floor. he sucked in a breath as he stopped, hearing some leaves rustled from at least five feet away from him. he crouched, hand stuck on his bulge as he peered through some bushes to find you kneels at a river, hands cupping into the water unknowing that he was perving at you through some bushes.

he throbbed as he watched you tip your head back to drink the water from your cupped hands, watching the water dribble down your neck and bloom across the blue fabric of your sundress. silently, he unzipped his pants, pulling himself out through his boxers and wrapping a hand around his shaft, hissing softly. you were oblivious to anything around you and it only made him harder at the thought you were so vulnerable.

he smeared his pre-cum around the tip of his cock as he watched you run the water over your skin, cooling yourself down. your sundress drinking in the liquid and sticking closer to your skin, your nipples pebbled through the fabric. he couldn’t get his eyes off of you, tightening his grip as he starts to jerk himself off to the mere innocent sight of you like this. he wanted to save it, save it so he could fill your cunt up full of him, but he knew the second he found you again and got his hands on you, he would be able to do just that.

as he feels his short and quick orgasm approach, he sees your ears perk up as you look around, licking your lips and eyes glazing over the same bush that he is in. cum splatters on the leaves below, cock throbbing and aching in his hand as he stays there crouched. your nerves are on end feeling watched but you couldn’t tell for sure what it was.

minding your own, you stood up on your own feet, looking around again before dashing off across the river and into the forrest.

bucky lets out groan as he lets go of his cock, shoving himself back into his pants and standing up, wiping his hands off. he needed you now, he couldn’t keep the thoughts of taking you at bay. he needed to feel your pussy wrapped around his cock instead of his hand, needed to hear you whine and beg for him to breed you like a slut in the middle of the woods.

he lets out a low whistle, one that sends a shock wave through your body and right to your clit making you throb. you knew that whistle. that was the one he used specifically in the bedroom when he wanted you to come to him — messy your knees for him while he fucks your throat. you felt a pull in your body as you hear the sharp sound, your cunt begging you to run and find him and submit.

but another part of you wanted him to track you down, to grab you and tell you he was going to ruin you right then and there. you wanted him to be rough with you, wanted him to treat you as such.

as much as you made a mess between your legs with slick coating your thighs at the mere thought of going to him, you continued walking further. you felt your nipples rub against the wet fabric of your shirt, your core tightening with the sensation. you were incredibly turned on by all of this, your senses heightened so much that you could only focus on the end goal of bucky fucking you stupid.

as you continued, you ended up tripping on a loose branch and stumbling against the floor, green clovers softening your fall and your hands catching soft blades of grass. because of your fall, however, you snapped the twig.

which made bucky’s ears perk up to the sound, his body turning in the direction it came from and picked up his speed, taking long strides and barely missing a beat. you whip your head around as you hear him loom over behind you, your heart hammering in your chest and your cunt aching at the mere sight of him.

his eyes were blacked out, lust looming over his facial features, want and need. you couldn’t pinpoint the other emotion that flitted through his gaze, but you knew it was something feral.

as you turn around facing him and scrambling, you start pushing yourself backwards away from him, he smirks as he watches you, knowing he was about to corner the fuck out you, leaving you with no where to go.

“whats wrong little bunny?” he cocks his head slightly to the side, his hand coming to pal himself again as he watches you scramble more away from him. he knew you weren’t scared of him — the opposite in fact. anytime you moved, your dress would bunch up further and further, showing him your exposed and glistening puffy cunt.

his eyes kept trailing between your legs with each step before gazing back to your face. your cheeks were red, from physical exertion and need, feeling embarrassed you were this exposed outside.

“i..i—“ he chuckles as you stop when your back hits the bottom of a large stump, your hands reaching for more clover floor but unfortunately you dont find anything except the rough bark. he comes toe to toe with you, looking down at you as you gaze up at him — your dress bunched to your hips as your knees are drawn up, eyes wide.

as you watch him, he lets out that same low whistle you an away from earlier, but this time you couldn’t help yourself as you sat up, the sundress falling back down to your thighs as you kneel in front of him. his thighs are huge in front of you, his thigh fingers palming his cock through his unzipped pants as his he’d hangs down to watch you, strands of long hair framing his face.

“take me out, baby.” he commands and fuck — you cant help but listen as you fumbled with his boxers, looping your fingers under his waist band and tugging them down enough to free his cock, eyes immediately falling to the tip of his weeping cock. you lick your lips, coming to grab his shaft as if you didnt need any instruction.

and honestly, you didnt. you didnt need him to tell you to open you mouth and take his tip in. he didnt need to tell you to take more of him as you hollowed your cheeks and opened your throat to invit his thick cock further into your mouth.

he didnt have to tell you to cup his balls in your other hand as you started to suck him off like your life depended on it. his moans encouraging you with each bob of your head until he comes to grab the sides of your head to steady you for a second.

“fuck yourself with your fingers, sweetheart.” his voice is low and commanding and while you hated fucking yourself with your fingers because they weren’t like his — you obeyed anyways. two fingers pushed into yourself as your moan became muffled with his cock in your mouth. you were dripping down your own wrist, trying to dig them deeper like his while focusing on how he started to move his hips to the rhythm of your own han.

you steadied yourself with your free hand on his thick thigh, fingered digging into the material as he fucked your throat. he threw his head back with a groan, knowing he was coming close to spilling down your throat but he didnt want to yet. he wanted you to come on your fingers but fuck — he wanted to fill you up.

he holds off his on orgasm as he twitches in your mouth before he pulls out and you whine at the loss. he looks down at you, smiling softly as your eyes are glazed over with tears, spit dribbling down the sides of your lips. you looked debauched as fuck beneath him, needy as your fingers continued working themselves inside of your cunt. you were whining as you looked at him, rocking your hips on your fingers.

he grabs your elbow and instinctively you remove your fingers from your cunt, following him as he pulls you to your feet and turns you around bending you over the cut stump of the large oak tree. the cool wood presses into your skin and wet fabric of your sundress, and you feel bucky lift your sundress up and over your hips. your cunt exposed to the cool air, sun shining thought he foliage as you see it almost setting at the horizon. you have been out here for a while.

his hand presses into your back softly, firmly holding you there as his hips dig into your ass, and you can feel his cock inbetween your thighs, spit and per-cum smearing on your skin.

“daddy..” your voice croaks, being one of the first things you have said in the last almost two hours. he hums in response, kicking your legs open wider to let him fit between you. his left hand holds your hip in place as his right hand comes to rub against the globe of your ass, before letting out a spank.

you moan, your cunt clenching as he spanks you again, gripping your ass after the third spank.

“what is it, bunny? tell daddy..” he spanks you again and you whimper, pushing more against him, wanting to slip the tip of his cock into your cunt. you look back behind you, over your shoulder and he looks at you. eyes hooded as he spreads your ass open with both hands, seeing your pussy lips spread at the same time.

“please.. …your cock..” you can’t really get many words out as his eyes move from your pleading face down to your exposed cunt. his cock bobs against your thigh, before he is taking his right hand and gripping himself, rubbing his tip over your wet hole.

“you want daddy’s cock, angel?” he coo’s, knowing the answer already as he teases your entrance — smearing his pre-cum and your slick together. you nod, trying to press your hips into him so he accidentally slips in, but his left hand kept you anchored. you huffed, biting your lip as you nod again.

“yes, please, i want your cock daddy, please…” you whine, begging underneath him as the tip of his cock pops into your cunt. you moan instantly, a shiver running over your skin at the slight stretch already. you relax a little as he rubs your ass again, watching your every move.

“good girl, saying please for what they want..”he praises you, rewarding you by pushing his cock deeper into you, easily. you moaned a bit louder, resting against the smooth surface of the tree and letting him fully push into you to the hilt. “could stay here forever, you know that? your cunt feels like fuckin’ heaven..” he grunts as he pulls out and pushes back in slowly, keeping the agonizingly slow pace for a little while, letting you adjust to his size. you whine, wanting more but he tsks.

“patience, sweetheart. you’ll get more of daddy,” he bends over the length of you, pressing some of his weight into you to keep you anchored. “i’ll make sure to pump you so deep of my cum you’ll be leaking the entire way back to the house.” his grunts in your ear make you moan softly, clenching his cock a t his words. his fingers dig into your hips in response, signals going to his head that this is exactly what you want.

and he would be damn sure to deliver it to you.

“relax,” he coaxes you and you listen, melting against the wood and focusing on the feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace, that same sound of skin slapping on skin rang in your mind, feeling his balls slap against your swollen clit with each thrust. you try to dig your nails in the wood but to no avail, you just gripped on the edge of the stump as best you could, letting him take you as he needed.

“good girl, takin’ my fat cock so fuckin’ well,” he slaps your ass again as you let out a moan of his name, the sting turning to more pleasure. you cant help it, yo need more of him, want more of him. you start pressing your hips against him to meet his thrusts, a soft grunt emitting from him.

“wanna fuck yourself on me, baby?” he muses and you whine, moving against him before he stills. you stop for a second before youre moving slowly against him, wondering if this was a trick.

“go on, you wanted it, didnt you?” he crosses his arms, pushing his hips deep into you making you moan out as you start to fuck yourself on his cock. he watches amused, how well youre taking him and letting him stretch around your cunt, dripping down your legs. you sounded so beautiful, using him like this

“atta girl,” he watches you before he gets tired of not touching you, leaning forward and hooking his large bicep around the front of your throat to put you in a choke hold. in turn — your back arched, your cunt opening up even more for his cock and you swore you could feel him in your guts. it felt like it was the deepest he had ever been. “this is even better, though.” he grunts into your ear and your one hand comes to hold onto his bicep, the palm of your other flattening on the stump.

instantly and without warning, his metal hand comes to the front of your body, trailing up the bodice part of your dress before finding the lace ribbon holding your dress together. he tugs, letting your tits spill before him and he goes to cup one, tweaking the nipple between his fingers.

“you feel so good, baby. so warm and wet wrapped around my cock… makes me wanna put a baby in ya.” he tugs your nipple making you moan in response, your body going pliant in his hold and letting him fuck you like a little doll. he feels your body submit under him, leaving him cooing in your ear.

“thats it, you’d want that, wouldnt you?” his metal fingers strum your clit slowly, his cock driving deep into you, making you moan softly. the sun was kissing the horizon as string lights above turned on from the use of solar power. you knew he had a lightening system in the woods, but because you had never gone in them — you never knew what it was.

twinkling lights reflected off small puddles, making the woods seem smaller and smaller as bucky fucked you over the stump. the two of you alone in the woods, your cunt taking his cock over and over again submitting to him.

“please..” you let out a choked whine, not really sure what you were begging for, just that your cunt was weeping on his dick as he fucked you, the tip of his cock kissing your sweet spot with each deep stroke. your fingers dig into his skin on his bicep, your teeth slightly sinking in as you feel a small but tight coil form in the pit of your stomach. you squeezed him again and this time he knew you were about to make a mess.

“hold it, babydoll.” his lips nipped your ear as his cock throbbed at the feeling of your canines sinking into his bicep. he made sure to keep the muscles just for something like this, having your bite mark engrained in his skin. he loved when you got like this — your touch needy and wild as you wanted more of him. you were already being crushed by half of his body weight, being split open on his cock. what else could you need?

you both knew the answer.

“daddy…” you whined his name, squeezing him again as his fingers continued to strum your clit slowly, teasingly. he wanted to come with you, wanted to reach that point together. he curses under his breath before he makes the split decision to pull out of you, suddenly missing the warmth of your cunt. you whine automatically, your cunt clenching at the loss of his dick, the pressure of his bicep loosening as he pulls away. your brain scrambles for more of him, and you were about to protect before hes turning you around just like he did in the kitchen and hoisting you up and onto the stump, your back against the wood.

he pauses for a second, watching as you lay there with your legs wide open, up on your elbows as you look at him from in between your legs. you look so fucking beautiful for him like this, spread bare just for him and dripping like fucking crazy. his eyes flit to your cunt — watching it pucker at the simple loss of his cock.

he twitched.

he tugs off his shirt, up and over his broad shoulders before lifting your hips up enough to pillow the shirt under them, letting your bum hang enough off over the edge of the tree without the bark digging into your skin.

he touches your spread legs, fingers dancing over your skin as he steps closer to you and in between your legs again, pushing his pants all the way to his ankle. his cock bobs, hitting your pussy with a heavy slap. there is a white ring around the base of his cock that he needed to see form again.

you look at him with a pleading look, your brows knitted together with want and need. you go to open your mouth to start whining, but is abruptly cut off as he pushes the tip of his cock back into you, before pushing to the hilt. he goes to grab your chin with his metal hand, making you look at him while you keep your legs spread wide, hands pressing your thighs apart as best as they can go.

he doesn’t need much room, just enough to lean over to take your lips in a heated kiss as he picks up the same brutal pace he just had in you a mere two seconds ago, swallowing your desperate moans. you feel your tits bounce with each deep and heavy stroke, his right hand finding home between your legs to your puffy clit. he rubs it in quick, tight circles, wanting you to come this time.

“you want it, sweetheart?” you nod, eyes glazed over at your lips depart and you have a dumbed out expression ghost over your features. his cock was splitting you open at this point and you couldn’t focus on anything except how it felt, and how the fuck he was looking at you with right now — eyes wild and mad.

his metal hand finds the back of your neck to keep you stable as his forehead presses against yours. “gonna come so fuckin’ deep in you baby… fuck… gonna have to fuck it back into you to make sure it sticks…” hes grunting nonsense a this point, your eyes slipping down to where your bodies meet and watch as his thick cock slides into you, how with each thrust you can clearly see the bulge in your tummy from him hitting inside you so deep.

he notices the bulge too, cursing under his breaths as he watches his own thrusts with you, his fingers playing your clit like an instrument he has known how to play all his life. he grunts with each stroke and you clench around him, whines and pleads leaving your lips nonsensically, not even sure what youre saying at this point either.

“your so fuckin’ tight..sucking me in…she wants it so bad, doesnt she? wants to be filled and stretched by my fat cock, huh?” he starts to grunt harder with each thrust, a smile ghosting his lips as he watches your body twitch under his touch. you cant help but let your legs fall to the sides, lax. your back arching up and off the wood in his hold as you feel yourself teetering the edge.

“beg.” he says and fuck the words have never left your lips so fucking fast.

“please, daddy please, fuck… i wanna come please, need you to fill me p, please…” youre babbling against his lips, licking them softly as you beg and whine, nipping the bottom lip. he cant hold himself anymore, the touches and the sounds you were making — how good you sounded pleading for him to fill you up…

he lets go of your neck and you fall against the wood softly, back arching as your tits move with each thrust. his fingers playing your clit so well as you slick between your thighs, dripping down your ass and making a mess all over his balls. he feels himself twitch at the feeling of the wet and sticky mess, his metal hand coming to loosely wrap around your throat, fingers pressing into your pulse points. immediately he hears your heart beat pick up, and a smirk falls across your face.

this is exactly what you wanted.

to be held under his arm like this, his fat cock drilling deep inside of your aching cunt, his moans edging you further and further. the hand was the cherry on top.

“dirty fuckin’ girl. come for me.” he locks eyes with you as he tenses up his fingers a bit more around your throat, enough to make your head feel fuzzy as you feel yourself squirt at the simple command of him telling you to cum. he groans at the sight of the squirting mess you were making all over his lower stomach and his cock, that white ring more prominent and slick with your cum.

“there you go, makin’ a mess on daddy’s cock like a good little bunny…” he praises you over and over as he feels his own balls tighten, hot sticky release filing your cunt up to the brim, spilling out and onto the forest floor. he curses, wanting it to stay all in, even if the was semi non realistic.

he takes his right hand from your clit, holding your waist as your body twitched, his thrusts slowly as he fucked you through your high and his own, making sure to keep all his cum inside you for a second. he leans down, releasing his grip around your throat to hold the side of your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t known had formed and fallen. he kisses the same spot he wiped it away, nuzzling his nose against your own.

his cock throbbed inside of you, your own cunt twitching around him. you were absolutely addicted to him, and even if he was still balls deep inside of you, you still wanted more of him. you needed more of him.

“i know, baby,” you dont realize a few more tears have fallen as he holds you, knowing you were dropping in subspace, he kisses your face softly as you come to bring your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“you were so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your cheek as he lets you hold him for a moment before hes kicking off his own pants and boxers, somewhere along the clovers and the leaves. he will find them later.

he goes to pick you up, keeping you snug and sat on his still hard cock. he knows he’d be leaking out of you, but that just means he can give you more. you hide your face into his neck as you let out a soft moan as you sit vertically on his cock, somehow cunt twitching.

“daddy..” it slips out as your eyes shut close, his hands under your thighs and holding you like that on his cock, ready to carry you home like this. he knew you weren’t far from the cottage at this location, so it would only take max ten minutes to get back home.

“You’re squirmy.” He grumbles, glaring at you in the dark. “No one ever teach you to sit still?”

You stick your tongue out. “No one ever teach you to mind your own business?”

“Hard to mind my business when you’re movin’ all the cushions, doll-“

“Then go sit somewhere else, robot man.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “I’m not a robot.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not-“

“You act like one.” You snap, and Bucky closes his eyes. Like he’s fucking praying.

“I was here first.” He mutters. You don’t balk.

“Congratulations.”

You hold his glare, and Bucky lets out a heavy breath through his nose. He narrows his eyes, tongue flicking over his lips. His full lips. Pretty and chapped, but in the perfect, soft way-

Get a fucking grip.

“There’s a chair over there.” You point across the room, sinking back into the cushions. “Go sit in it, if I’m so squirmy.”

Bucky scowls, and opens his mouth, but whatever jab he’s got for you, you don’t want to hear it. You reach over and unpause the movie—probably another one of Sam’s this is what you gotta catch up on, Barnes suggestions, because there’s no way Bucky picked out the Goonies himself—and fix your glower on the TV screen. You hate this movie. You’re going to watch it all the way through, just to show Bucky that he doesn’t bother you.

You spread your own legs wide, too. If men are allowed to do it, so are you. Bucky grunts as your knee pushes over his thigh, and you smirk at the TV.

It has nothing to do with the thick muscle you can feel under his sweatpants, that you keep your legs like that for the rest of the night. Bucky’s fingers flex a few times, and brush over the inner curve of your knee and the top of your thigh, like he’s thinking about just shoving you away. At one point, you hear him grunt, and look over with mockingly raised brows.

“Everything okay?” You almost simper, and he grunts and nods.

That’s all you get. Bucky fixes his anger on the movie, you win this round, and you get to be close to him without thinking about it.

You’ll think about it later. In the comfort of your own bedroom, you’ll think about it and think about it and think about it all night. You’ll think about it until your wrist hurts. But Bucky doesn’t get to know that.

As far as he needs to be concerned, you never spare him a second thought. It’s all he spares you. And you’re not going to be the pathetic girl who falls for someone who only thinks of her as a buzzing gnat around his head. Who worships the ground of a man who would step on her like a flower into concrete, not because he was seeking to hurt, but just because he didn’t notice you were there at all.

Although Bucky does seem to notice where you are.

The farmer does like to keep track of pests in his crops.

“You skipped the mission briefing.” Bucky grunts in the morning, glaring at you over a cup of coffee.

Something soft in you swells like a prodded bruise. He noticed where you were.

You ignore it in favor of flipping him off.

“I was busy.”

“Too busy for your job?”

“It’s not my job-“

“Your name was on the roster.” Bucky slams the folder down on the table, and your lips twitch.

“Have you been carrying that around all day?”

“That doesn’t matter-“

“Yes, it really does-“

Bucky hisses your name. There’s a fury under his tone, that makes your mouth snap shut. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You need to be there, Steve was talkin’ about safety shit, and if you don’t know it you could get killed-“

“I know how mission briefing work, I’ve been here longer than you have-“

“Really? ‘Cause you don’t act like it-“

“I don’t act like it?” You snort. “Last I checked I’m ranked higher than you, Sargent.” You raise your chin, letting your lips curl. “Which is why I’m allowed to defer missions, and you’re not.”

Bucky blinks, recoiling slightly. “Defer? What, you-“

“I’m skipping.” You shrug, grabbing an apple from the counter. “And if I’m skipping, I don’t need to be at the briefing. But thanks for checking on me, dad.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. You expect him to snap something about experience and you not being responsible enough or needing to care more.

But instead his fists curl and uncurl at his side. His nostrils flare. He grabs the counter, his scowl burning right through you. You take a large bite of your apple, and his gaze darts down. Juice drips down your chin, and you wipe it off with light fingers. That only seems to make him angrier.

“Why’re you skipping.”

You shrug. You should say none of your business. But part of you is childish. A very big, loud part that wants him to react to something you know he isn’t actually going to care about.

“I have a date.”

“A what.” It’s not a full reaction. He’s mostly staring at you like he didn’t understand the word. Maybe they called it something different in the 40s.

“A date?” You roll your eyes, a little meaner than you mean to be. He always bring that out in you, though.

Bucky always brings everything out in you. It’s incredibly annoying.

“You know.” You push mockingly. “Where you go out with someone. And flirt like people, instead of robots.”

“Robots flirt.” Bucky grunts, and you snort.

“Yeah, but they don’t have sex-“

The counter cracks. It’s loud, echoing through the kitchen. You start and twitch, and Bucky blinks at his metal hand, like he’s just as surprised as you are. He looks back to you, shakes his head, and takes a large step back.

“What’s-“

“Steve’s callin’ me.” He mutters, and you blink.

“No, he’s not-“

“Have fun.” Bucky ignores you. His words sound pushed through his teeth. “On your human date.”

Then he’s gone.

And you’re left in the kitchen with your apple and a cracked counter, staring at where he’d vanished through the door. You don’t care about the date.

You just need to know what the fuck that was.

There’s a part of you that feels bad, for the man Natasha set you up with. She’d picked him out specifically because he had a vague resemblance to Bucky—because you’ve never told her your secret, but you didn’t need to, she’s Natasha—but it wasn’t enough.

He didn’t have the underlying accent, or the gleam in his eyes. You made a sharper edged joke, and he just laughed. He didn’t spar. He didn’t push your buttons in a way that made you light up. He just smiled at you all night—wrong smile, too—and then didn’t pay. Bucky would’ve paid.

You have no evidence of that. It’s just a feeling, that comes from how he still opens doors for you, even when you’re at each other’s throats. All polite and handsome and insufferable. You hate him.

And there’s not a single point during the night, where you’re not thinking about him.

“We should do this again.” The Date—you’ve forgotten his name, and it’s certainly not a good time to ask—says at the end of the night.

You’re shivering. Bucky would’ve offered you his jacket. He did once, on a mission in the Andes. You got all cold and he rolled his eyes and muttered that he told you to bring another layer, but still gave you his jacket all the same. This man is just grinning at you after not calling you a cab and saying he wanted to stand outside in the misty, chilly night. He said he wanted fresh air, and now your freezing, and he thinks he’s getting a second date.

At the very least, you feel a little less guilty about only thinking of Bucky and the mission the whole time. He deserved it.

“Sure.” You smile, because even with superstrength, it’s easier to tell a man yes and then vanish than it is to deny them to their face. “Have a good night.”

He tries to hug you. Your phone buzzes, and you duck away to check it.

The mission is over.

Two days early.

Your jaw tightens.

Most people would think that a job being done early is a good thing. That it means the team was just so focused and coordinated that they sped through every single step, and ended in a total victory. But you’ve been on this job too long. Early mission conclusions only ever happen for one reason.

Something went wrong, and they have to come back.

You rush back to the compound with barely a goodnight to the Date. It’s mostly because you forget, in the blur of worry. You’d skimmed the mission files before they left, just to make sure it wasn’t anything too dangerous. Bucky had been mad about you not going with them. Maybe he’d thought they’d need the hands, but it had just looked like a retrieval mission. Old Hydra facility with some data Tony wanted. Nothing too hard.

But they’re back early.

And if someone’s hurt, you could’ve stopped it. You could’ve been there, instead of on that stupid fucking date. Which also means that Bucky was right, and that’s incredibly annoying. He’s going to weild it over your head, and the mocking is going to turn you on more, and you’ll have earned it which isn’t going to help anything at all. 

You get back to the compound, and it’s not in lockdown. There aren’t med staff flooding the grounds or emergency sirens blaring. You go right to the hanger, and find that it’s already been cleared out. The jet isn’t being quarantined.

Maybe they really did just… Finish early.

You’re heading back to your room when you slam right into them.

Steve and Bucky, standing in the middle of the hall, arguing in hushed voices.

“You need to go, Buck-“

“I’m fine-“

“No, you’re not. You can lie to the docs, don’t lie to me-“

“I ain’t lyin’, I’m fine-“

Your too lost in your own head, barely even hearing what they’re saying. You barrel straight into Bucky’s back.

He goes rigid. You stumble a little, and he grabs your upper arm.

His hand is hot.

Not sexy hot—although it’s also that—but literally, physically hot. Almost searing, against your shivering skin. You look up at him, and swallow.

He’s flushed. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and an exhausted shadow over his features. His eyes are so blown out they’re almost fully black. You blink at him, and his mouth falls open in a ragged pant.

“Hi.” You whisper.

His throat bobs. “You’re back.”

“I- I got the alert.” You glance over to Steve, who’s gone oddly pale. “Did the mission go okay? It was fine that I wasn’t there, right-“

“Yep!” Steve almost shouts, and you blink. “I mean- We were all good. Wish you were there, we all missed you, but- We were fine. Right, Buck?” Steve grabs Bucky’s shoulder. “We were all good.”

Bucky doesn’t look away from you for a single second. He grunts, and his grip tightens on your arm.

“Let go.” Steve mutters, and Bucky shoots him a glare.

He releases you like you burned him, then wipes his hand on his pants. You scowl. He was the one touching you.

“I was gonna.” He grumbles, and Steve sighs.

“I know, but-“ You get a weary look. Like Steve doesn’t want you to hear their conversation. “I think- You know what I think-“

“Steve-“ Bucky cuts himself off with a groan, running a hand over his face.

He still hasn’t looked away from you. Or moved that far out of your proximity.

“I’m fine.” He says, low and under his breath. You’re rooted to the ground under his gaze, unsure what you could even think of to say. “It’s- I’m fine.”

Steve’s lips press in a thin line. Bucky takes a large, jerking step back. Like he’s dragging himself away.

“How was your date?” He grunts.

“Bucky-“

“I’m just askin’ a question.” He snaps, still not sparing Steve a look.

The attention is getting to be too much. Bucky is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, and it’s making your body almost buzz in anticipation. You want to jump on him and feel those hot hands all over your body. His nostrils flare like he can smell your arousal. If he can, you might jump off a bridge.

You hope he’d catch you, then fuck you until your can’t even walk.

Get a fucking grip.

“Bad.” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. “He sucked.”

And that’s the kind of thing Bucky would usually mock you for. Skipping a mission just for a bad date.

But a low, rumbling growl falls from his chest. His tongue darts over his lips. He takes a half-step forward, and you lean in to the gravity of his stare.

“We have debriefing!” Steve shouts, grabbing the collar of Bucky’s suit. “Bye!”

Before you can even register it, Steve’s dragging Bucky down the hall. You swear you hear another feral noise, and a crash after they turn the corner.

Something had to have happened on the mission. You just have no fucking clue what.

Bucky’s only been acting stranger. You’d pretend it didn’t bother you, if you could get away from it for a single fucking second.

You walk through the compound, and he’s somehow more everywhere than he was before. Around every corner, in the library, on the grounds, even in the control room while you’re going through the mission files.

“What’re you doin’.” He grunts, and you sigh.

You’re not surprised he’s there. It’s the fifth time today that he’s snuck up on you.

“I’m going through the reports on the mission.” You drawl. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around?”

Bucky grunts. It seems to be a no. You roll your eyes and go back to poking through the system. It’s hard to pretend that you can’t feel his presence behind you. There’s heat almost rolling from his body, and thick, spicy and musky scent that’s filling the room. It’s making you a little dizzy. It’s all you can do, not to look back at him.

That would be dangerous. He probably still looks feverish and animalistic. You might moan.

You find the files for the mission, and try to open them. Big, read access denied, contact your handler for permission to these files flashes over your screen. Your mouth falls open, and you whip back to glare at Bucky before you can think about it.

Mistake. Just like you’d thought, big mistake.

He looks even worse and better than you thought. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and sweats, and they’re clinging to his sweaty body. His eyes are hooded and his lips are parted. His attention is so wholly fixed on you that it almost makes you fall out of your chair. You almost forget you’re annoyed with him. Every single nerve in your body is alight, and your fingers are itching to comb through his sweaty hair.

You somehow—just barely—fight it.

“Why can’t I access these files.”

Bucky leans over you, his nostrils flaring. If you reach up, you could trace the stubbled line of his jaw. It’s hard to maintain your glare.

“Barnes-“

“You weren’t on the mission.” He mutters. “Not your files to see.”

You scowl. “I can access the files of every other mission I was on-“

“Steve should change that.”

God, you wish he wasn’t so pretty. It would be easier to think about punching him.

“I know something happened out there.” You hiss, sitting up a little taller. “You can’t hide it from me. I’ll figure it out.”

Bucky chuckles. It’s a low, raspy sound that runs through your body, making you shiver.

“Sure, doll. Have fun with that.”

You shoot to your feet, and Bucky lurches back. Another one of those deep, rumbling growls rolls from his chest, and for a second you think he’s going to pounce on you.

And then you blink, and he’s gone. Leaving you with only that hazy smell, and desire rolling through your veins.

You wish that was the extent of it, but it’s barely the start. And it only gets worse.

Bucky doesn’t do his movie nights anymore, which means you get the TV all to yourself. You watch what you want, and try not to look at the spot next to you. Where your body feels like he’s supposed to be. You stretch out your legs, but they ache strangely without his touch. You get more restless without him. Around midnight, you shuffle to the kitchen, hoping one of those soothingherb thingys that Wanda says help with her nightmares will be there.

Instead, you find Bucky. 

He’s drinking a glass of ice, with a little bit of water. He freezes when he sees you, and moves further behind the counter.

You sigh. You’re too tired to fight him.

“Can’t sleep?” You mumble.

He just nods.

You sigh, and walk over the cupboard.

“You want hot chocolate?”

A grunt. Better than silence. You make two mugs, one for you, one for Bucky.

And maybe it’s just that you’re really starting to worry, but you don’t bother pretending to hate him. Your fingers brush when you pass him his mug, and his body seizes like you shocked him, but you just offer a tiny smile.

His mouth falls open. He stares at you like he’s spent years only looking at the muddier reflection of stars in the water, and has finally thought just to tilt his head up. You let out a small, shaking breath. He’s still burning up. You can feel it from your place a foot away. But you don’t dare to push it.

Not when he’s looking at you like this. The way you’d always, secretly and shamefully, dreamed he would.

“I’m watching Star Wars.” You mumble. “You wanna…”

You trail off, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

He nods again. A new tendril of worry blooms, overlapping with the growing tangle of them in your gut. He might not be able to speak.

But he follows you to the living area, and takes his place on the couch. His knee pushes against yours. He’s breathing awfully shallow, but you’re a selfish coward that wants him close, so you don’t mention it.

You barely pay attention to the movie. All you can focus on is Bucky at your side. How he doesn’t even seem to be sparing the TV a glance. He’s not really touching you, save for that place where your thighs are always pushed together, but every time you shift he grabs your knee. You blink at him, and his throat just bobs. He still hasn’t said a word. You’re afraid that when he does, it will break this fragile illusion.

That he wants to be here.

Near you.

He passes out near the end of the movie. His head falls against your shoulder and his body goes limp, almost a blanket over yours. You don’t move, just staring at a lit up, black screen. He looks more peaceful than you’ve ever seen. His fever isn’t breaking, but it does seem to be easing. You run your fingers through his hair, and he makes a low sound like a purr.

Then he takes a deep inhale, right against the crook of your neck, and a different noise leaves him.

It’s almost a moan.

You swallow. Suddenly you need to move. You don’t know what’s going on with him, but this can’t be what he actually wants. To be asleep almost in your arms, purring and moaning. That’s not a part of him you get to have.

But when you try to move, his grip around you tightens.

You feel almost sick.

It takes almost an hour, to roll off the couch without him pulling you back. When you’re free, you still cover him in a blanket and press a hand to his brow. Just to check. You can’t really help it.

His fever is building again.

You wish he would just tell you what was wrong. Even if he thinks you hate him, he can’t think you wouldn’t care enough to help.

When you start to walk away, he moans again. You could swear it sounded a little like your name.

You force yourself to go to bed. You’re not sure if you want him to remember in the morning.

If anything, you just pray he gets better. It’s hard to hide your undying care for him, when he’s in pain. Impossible to ignore how much it bothers you, that he’s hurting. ‘

But it is Bucky.

And he’s never going to make anything that easy.

You walk out of your room in the morning, and he’s right there. Lingering in the hallway, staring at you with those blown-out eyes, working his jaw like he’s trying to bite his own tongue off.

“Hi.” You say lamely.

He stumbles back like you punched him. “You- You’re-“

“Bucky, are you-“

“’M fine.” He says it mostly to himself again. There’s sweat gathering on his brow and bags under his eyes.

You’re not going to tell him, but you’re getting worried. This is the third morning in a row you’ve found him here. The first night you asked if he’d slept there, and he’d scowled and stomped away.

But from the look of him, you don’t think he’s been sleeping at all.

“Do you need something?” You ask. You sound soft, but you can’t help it. The worse he looks, the more your heart tightens. “I can call Steve-“

“Don’t get Steve.” He steps back. The same jerked movement from the first night. It’s the only way he’s been moving around you, lately. “I’m fine.”

You give him a doubtful look. His tongue flicks over his lips. You take a step forward, and he takes another step back. Like you’ve got a polarity field around you. Like he can’t even stand to breathe the same air.

And yet he’s here. Outside your door, and breathing through his mouth like an animal.

“Bucky-“

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, stumbling another step back. “Just- Don’t.”

You swallow, and don’t give chase when he walks away. Jogs away. He yanks himself away, then runs like he thinks you’re going to catch him and drag him back. You won’t.

But you do go right to Steve.

“What happened on the mission.”

Steve flinches, gagging on his sandwich. You’re glaring down at him with your hands on your hips, and you think he knows his little charming smile isn’t going to work on you here. That doesn’t seem to stop him from trying anyway.

“Hey, um- Do you want a cookie-“

“Steven.” You hiss, and he swallows. “What happened.”

Steve winces, avoiding your gaze. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”’

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to tell me-“

“I mean I- I can.” He mutters. “But then Bucky will kill me. And I don’t want Bucky to kill me.”

You scowl. “Tough shit, because guess who’s going to kill you if you don’t tell me?”

Steve sighs. “Is it you?”

“Yep.”

He stares at his sandwich, like it’s somehow going to get him out of this situation. You wait for him to realize it won’t. You have plenty of time.

“I’m really not supposed to tell you-“

“I really don’t care.”

“Well- You will.” Steve looks up with a sad little puppy eyes.

You don’t have the same reservations about punching him in the face, that you have with Bucky. He’s basically asking for it right now.

“Steven, I swear to fucking God-“

“I can’t tell you.” He cuts you off with a shake of his head, and you scoff.

“No, you just won’t tell me-“

“That’s not- I can’t, okay? Please stop asking me to-“

“Why, because Bucky doesn’t want you to?” You leer. “Because last I checked, you’re the Captain. And if Bucky is your friend, you should be telling his teammates he’s in danger so they can help-“

“That’s the problem!” Steve shouts, and you blink. “You- Look, you’re going to want to help, and I can’t let you.”

“You can’t let me help?” You echo, and Steve winces.

“I know how it sounds-“

“Do you? Because what I’m fucking hearing that your best friend is in danger, and you won’t let me fucking help-“

“Why do you even want to help?” Steve fixes you with a pointed look. “All you ever do is complain about Bucky and how he’s annoying you. I would’ve thought you didn’t care.”

You narrow your eyes, and Steve raises his brows. You know what he’s doing. Smug fucking asshole. 

“That won’t work on me.” You grunt, and he shrugs.

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

“Steve-“

“But,” he says causally. “If I did, I’d say that’s why I can’t tell you. And you know that.”

You hate it when he speaks in riddles. Like you’re just supposed to read between the lines when your brain is fogged with worry about Bucky.

“I- I don’t-“ You let out a slow breath, looking down to your shoes. Heat is flooding your cheeks. It’s annoying. “It’s not- I’m just- Please.”

Your voice cracks suddenly. You’ve been losing more sleep over this than you’re ever going to tell anyone. You almost feel ill with it—like the worry is an infection, knotting up your stomach and making your heart pick up—but that might just literal exhaustion. Something happened. No one will tell you what. It’s making you feel useless and hopeless and torn up to tiny, useless shreds.

“Bucky.” You say slowly. “Is- He’s not okay. I know he’s not okay.” You force yourself to meet Steve’s gaze. “Just- Lie to me and say he’s fine, and fix it, or tell me and let me help. But I- I can’t just-“

You don’t even know how to finish the sentence. There’s a burning feeling behind your eyes and a lump in your throat. You’re so worried. Worried this is something that’s going to kill him, and you’re going to lose him forever.

And there’s pity, in Steve’s gaze. It’s enough to make him break, his voice softening completely.

“Alright.” He murmurs. “But- You can’t tell him I told you.”

You nod quickly. “I’ll say I just got into the files, or- Something- Please.”

Steve sighs. “Okay. Okay.” He shakes his head. “It was on the mission. Bucky was distracted the whole time, and when we got jumped he wasn’t being controlled with his punches. He swag to hard on an Hydra agent. Knocked them back into some vials, and- Well they burst. All over both of them. We put the agent in containment, but he was displaying worse symptoms. Bucky- I think it’s the serum, or just… Bucky. But he’s been controlling it better.” Steve grimaces. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not still knocked up with stuff.”

You nod slowly. That’s not that bad.

But Steve didn’t want you to know for a reason.

“What are the symptoms?”

Steve won’t meet your gaze. “Fever. Nausea. Hormone flares. Um- Increased… libido.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open. “What.”

“Hydra makes some weird stuff. Tony thinks this was, um- A breeding drug. We don’t know why they were developing it, but- There’s no other name.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. “The agent- His cell is disgusting.”

“But- Bucky-“

“I told you, he says he’s got it under control.” Steve shrugs, but doesn’t really sound like he’s convinced himself. “The agent has been, ah… begging for anyone. Bucky doesn’t have the same liberty with what will help. He says it’s going to pass, and he’ll be fine.”

“And will it?” You breathe. “Pass?”

Steve shrugs. “It did for the agent.”

“Before or after the mating?”

Steve’s silence is an answer. You swear under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this, Steve? We- We need to get him to someone, this could fucking kill him-“

“I know that!” Steve snaps. “I know that just as well as you do! As he does! But- Jesus.” He shakes his head. “He won’t take anyone. He’ll only- Well- You know.”

“I know? I don’t fucking know, none of you have been telling me shit-“

Steve says your name plainly. You blink.

“What-“

“Nothing. Just- Why do you think he’s been lingering around you?”

You stare at him. He raises his brows, and you swallow.

“Steve-“

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Yes, you did-“

“Nope.”

You press your lips in a tight line. He can’t mean what you think he means. That would be to easy. Too good. “Bucky- He doesn’t- That’s not how he feels about me.”

Please don’t say it is. It’s not fair if you’re lying.

“Funny.” Steve shrugs. “He says the same thing about you.”

This is a bad idea.

Bucky hasn’t left his room in a day. You’d spent all of last night replaying your conversation with Steve, trying to pick it apart for a single reason he didn’t mean what you thought he did. What you hoped he did. What you’d always hoped for, only in the dead of night where no one would ever find out.

But it didn’t matter how you turned or picked at Steve’s words. There was only one conclusion. The beautiful, horrible one that you can’t even fully wrap your head around. It would mean you spent years hating him for no reason. Year thinking about kissing his stupid face, when you could’ve been actually kissing him. If Steve’s right, you’re going to kill Bucky.

After you fix this for him.

If Steve means what you think, you can fix this for him. He just has to let you.

Which is why this is a horrible idea. If Bucky turns you down, you’re going to have to quit your job and change your name and  move to Indonesia.

But if he doesn’t turn you down…

You steel yourself and knock on Bucky’s door. It’s worth the risk, just for him. Always just for him.

“Fuck off, Stevie-“

“I’m not Steve!” You call, and for a second there’s no response. 

Then there’s a muffled banging, and you almost fall forward when Bucky yanks the door open.

He looks even worse than before. And better. And hotter, and oh God, your knees are already weak.

His shirt is gone, and his broad, muscled chest is shining with sweat. His hair flops over his eyes, mussed up and soft looking. He’s breathing through his nose, even as his swollen mouth hangs open. His metal fist is curled against the door, making the wood crack under his fingers. Standing through his sweatpants is the long, proud outline of his cock.

You swallow, your mouth watering. Bucky says your name, and you can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a plea or a prayer.

“You shouldn’t be here-“

“Steve said you need me.”

You stare at each other. Bucky’s tongue flicks out, and you chew on your lower lip. This is it. If he turns you down, you’ll walk away and live. A new life, across the world. You’ve never been to Indonesia, but you hear they have good food and community, and you’re sure you’ll be able to fit right in over time, and if you don’t at least Bucky will never find you to make you relive this humiliation, because it’s been almost two full minutes and he hasn’t said anything, so you should probably pull out your phone and start researching Indonesian names-

“Steve shouldn’t have told you anything.” Bucky growls, and you swallow.

“I- I made him.”

He sighs. You could swear his dick twitches. “Of course you did.”

“I was worried about you-“

“You don’t have to be, doll. I’m-“

“If you say I’m fine, I’m going to fucking punch you.”

Bucky scowls. You scowl harder. You have a feeling neither of you are going to back down.

“You’re sick.” You say plainly, and Bucky lets out a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Maybe. But it’s not the kinda sick you can help with-“

“Steve says it’s the kind of sick only I can help with.”

He’s silent again. You risk a tiny step forward, and he takes one back, muttering your name. It’s a warning. A plea.

“Don’t do this.” He mutters, fists balled at his side. “Not outta pity, not for me-“

“It’s not pity.” You stop in his doorway, making your voice soft. “I want to help, Bucky. Let me help.”

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, you- You just- You don’t feel like that for me-“

“You don’t feel like that for me.” You breathe, and Bucky’s body locks up.

“Who says?”

“You’re an ass to me-“

“You’re an ass to me.”

“I don’t mean to be.” You whisper. “I- I don’t- I’m not good at… You know.”

Bucky’s throat bobs. He still doesn’t move.

“Me neither.”

You nod. “But…”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah. I do.”

You take a deep breath. His whole room is filled with that musky, spicy smell. The heat is almost rolling off his body.

“Please ask me to help.” You don’t bother to hide the desperation in your voice. He needs to know that you mean it. “I- I want to, Bucky, I want you so bad-“

Bucky muffles your pleas, crashing forward and pressing his mouth over yours.

It’s not the soft, loving kiss of your fantasies. It’s rough and desperate, the kiss of a man finally letting his leash snap. He grabs your neck and scrunches his fingers in your hair, dragging a moan from the back of your throat. It turns into a hungry cry, when he pushes his tongue between your lips. Your knees wobble from the bruising force of it. You grab his shirt for balance, scrunching the fabric between your fingers.

Bucky grunts, pressing further over you. One arm drops to wrap around your waist, and the other slide up to cradle the back of your head. The touch his shockingly gentle, for the demanding way he’s almost eating your kisses. You’re standing nowhere near a wall, but he’s caged you all the same. There’s nothing to do but feel the way his cool, metal fingers dig into your hips, and the unrelenting heat of his mouth.

You kiss until your breathing is ragged. He tastes like mint and salt, and it’s a little addictive. Even after you’re light-headed and whimpering, Bucky sucks on your lower lip and takes just a little more. You whimper, gasping for air that he doesn’t seem to need. He tugs on your hair, forcing you to tip your neck back, and he plants open, hungry kisses over every place he can reach.

“You gotta be sure.” He murmurs against your skin. “Tell me you’re sure, doll, ‘cause- I don’t think I can go easy.”

And oh God, isn’t that lovey thought. Bucky not going easy. Combined with his tongue flicking over a pulse point, you almost fall over from the pure thought of it.

But he’s asking real permission. His hold on your hip is getting tighter, and his shoulders are squared and tense. He’s keeping himself from taking what he really wants, until you give him total permission.

You didn’t know you could want him more.

“I- Oh-“ Your eyes flutter, as he nips on sensitive skin under your jaw before kissing away the hurt. “I’m sure, Bucky, I- I don’t want you to go easy.”

For some reason, that only makes him more tense. He takes an uneven breath, pressing his brow against your head and almost pulling you off your feet as he hugs you tighter. You wait, slowly wrapping your arms around him and dragging your nails soothingly over the nape of his neck.

Bucky draws himself back, his expression unreadable as he scans over your face. You offer him a tiny, nervous smile, and he lets out a shaky laugh.

“You- You got no idea, do you?”

Your face falls to a pout. “I have a lot of ideas-“

“No, you don’t.” He drops his brow over yours. “You got no fuckin’ clue, what you do to me.”

And your brain stalls. It gets all gooey and soft, as you just blink up at him. You’re already on unsteady legs. You never thought he’d catch you if you fell, but with the way Bucky’s looking at you right now, you think he’d dive off a cliff to be at your side.

“Bucky…” You breathe, and he drops his forehead against yours. Your noses bump. His gaze darts between your lips and eyes, and you think you might be burning alive.

“You smell so good.” He mutters, before leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You-“ You almost whimper, when he pulls away. “You imagined?”

He chuckles, kissing just your upper lip. You’re already putty under his hands, and you might turn to just a steam of desire if he doesn’t stop kissing you so softly.

“Didn’t you?”

You nod, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Bet I imagined more.”

And you doubt that, but Bucky’s kissing you again before you can tell him that you imagined so much it scared you sometimes. The way you were sure that you’d never be able to recover, from an addiction to a drug you’d never even taken.

You’re certainly never going to recover now. Kissing Bucky is even better than you’d let yourself dream about. His lips are just as soft as you thought. Even with the way he’s holding himself back, his touch is possessive. He traces your sides like he’s trying to memorize them, and kisses you the same way.

“Got no idea what I’m gonna do to, either.” He rasps against your lips. “If you let me, doll… You shouldn’t- But-“ He groans, pushing his nose into your cheek, kissing over the slope of your jaw. “Fuck, I want you to.”

You want him to. You want to feel those sloppy, devout kisses everywhere, to get that infernal tongue between your legs. His cock is almost bursting through his sweats, protruding into your thigh. He’d be heavy on your tongue, and split you better than the toys that you’ve used in his place before. The ache in your core throbs from just the idea, and you can feel your heart trying to burst all out of your throat with confession of desire and adoration. But you’re not sure if he’s going to believe them.

“Tell me.” You whisper. “Tell me what you’ve dreamed about doing to me.”

Bucky pulls back, and you worry you’ve stepped on an invisible landmine. That you’re going to be shoved out of the room, the door slammed in your face instead of behind you, locking you out of the room you’ve longer to be in since you met him. Bucky stares at you. You open your mouth to apologize and take it back, but he loves to move faster than your lustdrunk mind can understand.

You squeal as he walks you backward, but not out of the room. He kicks his door shut as you pass it. It slams, right as Bucky pins you between against the wall. He kisses you before you can protest or ask questions, and keeps going until you’re squirming against him and unsure if you should pull him closer or push him away. His kisses wander your cheeks, over your nose and hairline and back down to your ear.

“I wanted you just like this.” He chokes out, and your swallow. He sounds wrecked, and you’re not even kissing anymore. “Wanted you everywhere. Would see you in a meetin’ and think about bending you over the table. You’d get under me on the training mats and I’d wanna get in a headlock between your legs. Bet you taste so good.”

He shudders, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His dick has shifted to push right near your core, and it’s almost too much pressure, while not being nearly enough.

“Would sit next to you on the plane and think about gettin’ on my knees.” He rasps, beard ticking against your skin. “Worshipping your pussy like it deserves. Makin’ you- Fuck- Call my name-“

Bucky moans, his hips jerking forward. A tiny moan escapes your lips, and Bucky almost whines and does it again. You don’t think he can help it.

“Wanted to stuff your pretty little lips with my cock.” He thrusts again, his whole weight almost collapses over your body. “You’d get all mouthy and I- I jerk off to the idea of puttin’ you over my knee or gettin’ you lying in my bed. I’d- I’d fuck you so nice, doll, I swear I’d be good, but- Fuuuck-“

He’s rutting between your thighs, and seems to forget the story he’s supposed to be telling you in favor of sucking on your neck. You whimper, pushing your hand between your bodies. Not to stop him—never to stop him—but to wrap your fingers around his cock through his sweats.

Bucky moans, his voice breaking with raw, starved relief. You try to pull him back to kiss him, but he just wraps closer around you. He’s almost shaking. You think he’s trying not to fuck your hand.

You can’t have that.

“It’s okay.” You drag your fingers over the line of his cock, and he whimpers against your neck. “I- I’ve thought about it too.”

Bucky slams forward, and you smile at the air.

“Wanted you to shove me down and fuck me stupid. Wanted to ride you until I passed out. I bought a dildo, baby, just to pretend it was you.”

You use your free hand to pet the back of his head, slowly sliding his sweats down to give yourself better access. Bucky’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping fully around, and whenever your nails graze his balls, he bucks forward with a strangled moan.

“Wasn’t as big.” You breathe, stroking his dick in long, tight motion. “You’re so big, Bucky, I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

He grunts, his teeth grazing your neck. “Gonna- Fuck-“

You squeeze him at the base, and he doubles over. He’s almost fully collapsed against you. You want to feel him come apart.

“Gonna make it fit.” He hisses in your ear, and you hum.

“How?”

“Open you up.” He mutters, words slurred like he’s drunk. “Get you all over me, doll- Wanna watch you cum over and over and- God-“

His dick is twitching, and you giggle. He’s working himself up.

“You think this is funny?” He rasps.

You smile, swiping your thumb over the weeping slit of his dick. “A little. You wanna make me cum but you won’t even touch me.”

He makes an annoyed sound, and tries to push off of you. You tug his cock a little harder, and he falls back over with a moan. You giggle again.

“You- You’re a fuckin’ brat-“

“I’m helping you, Barnes.” You whisper in his ear.

He chuckles, and the sound rolls through your body. “Helpin’ me would be sitting on my face- Fuck-“

Bucky’s whole body shakes, when you squeeze him one last time, and his control slip. You pet him through his orgasm, unsure if you want him to notice how you press your legs tighter to try and get more stains of his cum. He pants and groans against your skin, his lips latching back around that one bruise he seems to be obsessed with.

There’s so much cum. Bucky grinds into your fist, and it just keeps coming and coming and coming until your fingers are sticky and drenched. The idea of him doing that inside you is almost a little terrifying. You’ve never wanted anything more.

A choked sound like your name comes out, muffled against your skin. You smile, leaning back to try and meet his gaze.

Bucky seems to need a second. You hope you didn’t already wear him out.

“You okay?” You whisper, and he tenses.

Bucky pulls back, and your pulse picks up into a drum.

Whatever he’d been before, it had been tame compared to this. His jaw is clenched, his attention fixed on you like a predator. His chest heaves, his hands limp at his side. You swallow, feeling a lot smaller than you did a second ago.

You can’t stop yourself from looking down. It only makes things worse.

He’s bigger than he felt. His cum is dripping down his thigh, and it’s barely been a minute, but he’s already getting hard again. You drag your eyes up the expanse of his chest—all flushed skin and muscle—and realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You lick your lips. He mimics the movement.

“It won’t fit.” You says again, but your tone has lost all the teasing mockery of before.

And Bucky’s smirk is dangerous. A thrill rushes through you at the sight of it. You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Gonna make it fit.” He growls.

You yelp, as he grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You don’t even slam into his chest before he’s lifting you off the ground with another mind numbing kiss. It’s a distraction. You know that. You don’t really care, though, returning it in a second.

Bucky carries you like you’re a doll, your knees bent like some princess and his warmer arm locked around your waist. He leans over, lowering you to the mattress with a shocking care. For a second you’re fully lost in him. The gentle motion of his lips over yours, the way his hands wander and map your body as he settles you into the mattress.

“So soft.” He mutters. “All that bite, doll, but I knew you’d be so fuckin’ soft for me.”

You’d like to protest, and say that you’re not soft. But Bucky’s kisses are making your head spin, and no single, clear word can make it out of the daze. All you manage is a high, long whine.

Bucky chuckles. His hand pushes under your shirt, almost tickling over your sides.

“You like that?” He tease, his knuckles tracing over the underside of your boobs. “You like bein’ my sweet girl?”

You are not sweet. You try to snap that, but it mostly just comes out a feral grumble. You don’t know how he’s the one with a sound mind right now. You’re not under a sex drug.

You’re just under Bucky. Where it’s very, very warm, and sticky, and nice. His cum is dripping over your clothed core and midriff. You shiver as it hits bare skin, and Bucky smirks against your lips.

“Say it and I give you more.” He rasps. “Say you like it.”

And it’s a game. You know that you like it. He does too. But he’s poking and teasing you, trying to get you spar with him. To get you to play.

So you glare at him when he leans back, spreading your legs wider at the same time. You keep your mouth stubbornly shut.

Bucky grins. He traces the curve of your hips with massive hands, his thumb angling to smear his cum over your navel.

“Look at you.” He mocks. “Beggin’ for me and then can’t even admit she likes it.”

You wrinkle your nose, turning up your chin. Bucky smacks your inner thigh, then rubs his metal palm right over your pussy. The sudden sting then harsh pleasure make your hips push off the bed with a cry. Bucky takes his hand away to splay it on your abdomen, shoving you back down.

“You like gettin’ tossed around, too?” He laughs, and heat floods right to your core. “I’ll toss you around, baby. Make you into a nice little cockslut for me, even let you put my in that pretty mouth.”

He grabs your jaw, and you part your lips in a second. Bucky groans, his cock getting impossibly harder.

“Already listen so well.” He mutters, teasing his two forefingers over your mouth. “Just can admit you fuckin’ love it, do you? Can’t be a good girl and tell the truth.”

You narrow your eyes in defiance, and pretend to bite down on his fingers. It’s not a real bite. Just teeth grazing knuckles. But Bucky understands what it means.

Permission to go further.

His eyes gleam. His cock is already leaking with pre-cum.

“Alright, babydoll.” He rubs your thighs, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “Have it your way.”

In a single second, Bucky rips off your clothing like it’s paper. You barely have time to feel the cold of the air before he’s grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach, and dragging your ass up in the air. You yelp, fisting your hands in the sheets, and try to twist and see where he is.

A dazed part of your brain that doesn’t remember his hands on your hips sees no one behind you, and almost freaks out.

Then the first stroke of Bucky’s tongue hits your pussy, and you collapse fully into the sheets.

“Oh my-“ Your eyes roll back, as he teases the very tip of his tongue around your clit before dragging it through your folds. “Oh my God-“

“Sensitive fuckin’ pussy.” Bucky muses, and you feel the stubble of his cheek pressing against you thigh. “Barely even touching it. Wonder if I-“

 His thumb drags circles just around your clit, and you squeak. He kisses the curve of your ass, going a little fast. You whine trying to drag your own ass in circles to match his motions. You can’t see him. Can’t know if you’re doing well outside of his lips tracing your thigh, and the pleased hums against your skin.

Bucky jerks his thumb suddenly to the side, pushing directly over your clit. You scream, your knees sliding back. Bucky grabs them and pushes them back up, fully exposing your pussy to the air.

“Look at you.” His breath is warm, over that most sensitive spot. “Bet I don’t even need to fuckin’ prep you. You’re so wet, you’d just…”

He makes a deep, rumbling sound, and you almost sob as he drags his tongue right back between your puffed pussy lips. You clench around nothing, his stubbled scraping your clit. Bucky angles his face, letting his tongue flick over your clit. It goes back and forth and back and forth, toying with it before pressing flat. He sucks, hard like a lollipop, and you almost sob into the mattress.

“Sweet.” Bucky whispers, his metal arm wrapping around your legs. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Bu- Bucky-“

“Shhh.” He kisses right over your pussy. “Wanna taste, pretty girl. I gotta fuckin’-“ He moans, and the vibration shoots right up your spine. “Gotta taste-“

Bucky presses his face fully into your cunt, and the sound that leaves you almost isn’t human.

He’s good at this. So good at this. It’s a little unfair. Your mouth can’t do anything but hang uselessly open, as Bucky works his jaw against you. He eats you like he’s starved for it. Like he’s a man that wants to drown of an insatiable thirst.

Two hands hold you up in the air, as his tongue plunges ruthlessly in and out of your cunt. You keen, trying to push further back, and the warmer hand wraps up to your spine and shoves your stomach down. It’s a tighter fit like this. Bucky drags his tongue around, and it hits every sensitive area. His beard tickles and scratches, and cold fingers tease your skin.

You get more and more sensitive, with every flick and suck and groan. You’re so wet it’s almost drooling down your legs, mixing with the stains of cum he’d gathered from your midriff and smeared over your legs. The dual heat with his cold hand makes all your nerves stand on end. You pussy clenches again, and Bucky chuckles.

“That’s right.” He mutters, making out with your clit as you gasp for air into the bed. “That’s it, baby, you’re already lettin’ go, aren’t you.”

You whine, and Bucky nips at your ass.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ye- Yes.” You mumble. “’S good, Bucky- So good-“

“I know.” He grunts, pressing his cold, metal thumb down into your clit. “Fuck, baby, I know.”

You whimper, and Bucky starts up on your dripping pussy again. He’s lapping at it, pushing his tongue into your tight hole as he plays with your clit, and white lines your vision.

“I- I’m gonna- Fuck- Bucky-“ You scratch at the sheets. “I’m gonna- Oh God-“

He smacks your clit, spits onto your pussy, and resumes with double the effort. You cry his name, as your orgasm wracks your body. You can feel yourself seizing around him, twitching and writhing in his tight grip as your vision lines with white.

And Bucky doesn’t stop. You’re making a mess all over his face, and he’s rising up, but it’s just pushing you further into the mattress. You whimper, your cunt too sensitive, but he doesn’t even come up for air.

“Shit- Bucky- Oh- Ohhhhh-“

The ache quickly fades into pleasure again. Blinging pleasure that’s just on the wrong side of too much, but pleasure all the same. You squeal, and Bucky just moans against your cunt.

Then you hear it. The slam of his fist against his cock.

He’s jerking off while he eats you out.  He’s fucking himself so hard you can hear it, hear the slap of skin, feel all his little moans and grunts right against your pussy, and the thought sends you right over the edge again.

Bucky moans louder, as you cum on his tongue. Just like before, it seems to make him more and more feral. You have a feeling what lucidity that let him tease you before is gone. He’s eating you out the same way he’s kissed you, with rough lips and a fervor that’s almost animalistic. You’re boneless and whimpering into the sheets, taking it over and over as Bucky just keeps working his mouth against your cunt, and fucking his hand.

Then, suddenly, he’s gone. You whine from the lose, trying to roll over and look at him, but he just shoves you back down with a growl. The sound of his hand is getting faster and faster, and a hot weight drops over your back. Bucky presses his face into your neck, and takes a deep breath. You whimper, and he groans. His hips must be rocking, with how the bed is shaking.

“Smells good.” He rasps. “Gonna- Fuck-“

Bucky snaps back up, and you feel him cum more than you even hear it. Hot ropes spurt over your ass and back, seeping down the back off your thighs and into your pussy. You moan at the sensation, pushing back on trembling hands. There’s always just more of it, until you’re so marked up with him you’re sure you’ll never be able to wash it off.

You don’t want to.

With how Bucky grabs your hips and spreads the stain over your skin, you don’t think he does either.

“Shit.” He breathes out, and you hum in agreement. “Gotta- Flip for me, c’mon-“

Bucky helps you roll over. His touches are gentle again, but the gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded. You blink at him, flat on your back with your legs spread. Bucky traces the lips of your cunt, then slowly pushes two fingers inside you. Fucking his cum back into your tight hole. You mewl, eyes fluttering. Your head tosses back, and Bucky smiles

“Good girl.” He coos.

You try not get all gooey and weak just from the praise. Bucky laughs, and you think you might’ve failed.

“Strangling my fingers, doll.” He teases, pulling them right out.

You whimper. You’re too wet and ready not to take something. It’s really not fair to make you wait.

“I know.” He kisses your brow, voice rough. “Trust me, I fuckin’ know. You just gotta tell me you like it, then-“ His cock drags between your folds, and you keen. “All yours.”

You blink at him, opening your mouth to comply.

But you’re at an advantage.

Bucky’s hard again. His body is wound so tight above you, and his every word is thick. Like it’s an effort to speak. He’s still trying to fight against the drug running through his veins.

You want him to give in.

So you close your mouth, and give him a defiant glare.

Bucky growls again, and there’s no more teasing.

His mouth pushes over yours, and it’s not a loving kiss. It’s rough and quick, stealing your breath in seconds and distracting you as Bucky grabs your knees and shoves them back. You try to chase his lips, when he pulls away, but he shoves you back down with a grunt.

“Wanna be a brat.” He grunts. “Gonna get fucked like a brat.”

You almost beam. Yes, please.

Bucky folds you under him, your knees pressed to your chest and your cum-stained pussy on full display. He doesn’t waste time, tapping the head of his cock against your clit before slamming right inside. You’re so soaked you take it with only a hitched breath, but that doesn’t mean your eyes don’t roll back.

He hits right against you pelvis, when he bottoms out. His heavy balls sit on your ass, and the stretch of him is just enough pain to heighten the pleasure. Bucky kisses all over your face as he lets you adjust, but your pussy is greedy. He’d prepared you too well. You’re more than ready within seconds.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You gaps out, and he growls against your neck. “Move.”

If he’d told you to wait, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

But the drug seems to have overtaken him again, and all you get is a noise like a snarl against your throat before Bucky draws almost all the way out, and slams back in.

The air is knocked clean from your lungs. This time, he hit right against your g-spot, and your whole body seizes up. Bucky makes a low, deep noise, and repeats the motion. Again, he drives right into that gooey spot deep inside of you. You clench around him, and he doubles over, rutting deep inside of you.

“The- There-“ You whimper, fingers scrambling in the sheets. “Fuck, baby, right there-“

Bucky grunts an agreement, and starts to fuck you into the mattress. The angle is so deep you’re worried he’s going to permanently rearrange your guts. Every slam of his cock into your makes you see heaven, and Bucky pants over your, his eyes locked onto yours as your face contorts with pleasure.

He’s not even fucking you like a brat. He’s fucking you like a doll. He grabs at your limbs and moves them below him like you’re just a sleeve for his dick, and he needs you into just the right spot. One hand fists in your hair, forcing your neck a little up so you can watching your arousal gleam on his cock every time he pulls out. He moans every time he pushes back in, and you watch your cunt swallow his dick whole. A wet, smacking sound filling the room as he drills into you. He bends you even further to kiss over your neck and breasts, his tongue dragging in rhythm with his dick.

You try to clench around him every time he bottoms out, but your head is sort of empty, and now you’re just a drooling pussy around his massive cock, moaning his name and happily milking every bit of pleasure.

“Oh- Oooooh-“ You mewl, smiling like a cockdrunk idiot at the air. “Buuuucky-“

His mouth presses back over yours, and the kiss is strangely soft. His fucking hasn’t slowed or relented, but there’s a care with how his lips move over yours that makes you feel worshipped.

That’s what he’d said he’d do. Worship you. And you can really feel it here.

Bucky draws back, and the hand that had been fisted in your hair moves to your jaw. He squeezes again. You open for him easily, and his lips twitch.

“Good girl.” He coos, even if the words are tighter than before.

He spits into your mouth. You swallow obediantly, and open again when he squeezes your cheeks. Bucky slams forward with a groan, looking like a man wrecked.

“You fuckin’ like it, don’t you-“

“Love it.” You gasp, unable to even think to deny him again. “Love you, Bucky- Oh- Oh my god-“

Bucky makes a ragged, choked sound, and cums almost without warning. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, as he pumps you full of his release. It feels like even more than before. Like you’re going to burst with how full you are, spurts of it still being forced out as Bucky fucks you through. You’ve never felt so totally claimed, with him all over every inch of your skin. He kisses you and you giggle, dazed and almost high on the feeling.

And he’s not even done.

The period of lucidity between orgasms gets shorter before it gets longer. Bucky’s ability to control himself almost vanishes all together. You get a kiss and broken mumble of your name before you’re being flipped back onto your stomach and fucked from behind. There will be handprints on your ass and thighs in the morning, and the sheets are stained with your drool from how Bucky railed you from behind.

You’re dragged into his lap right after, and he pushes his thumb into your mouth, then ruts up into your gaping cunt. You’re all moans and ditzy smiles by that point. When rolls you back onto your stomach and sits up on his knees, you just take it with moans and giggles and cries of delight.

He hasn’t just ruined you. He’s pulled you apart a million times over, until you’re just a puddle that sings his name.

You don’t even fully realize he’s done, when he kisses pulls out that last time. You whine, and clench around nothing, but expect to get filled right back up.

Then Bucky kisses you, and it’s slow. Savoring and sweet. Romantic. His voice is hoarse, but it’s lost the strained quality. He’s fully teasing again, smiling against your lips.

“So soft.” He coos, rubbing your thoroughly abused pussy with his warm hand.

You writhe, trying to get further and closer at the same time. Bucky chuckles, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, doll. You’d think you were the one that got sex drugged.”

You try to glare at him, but forget why the moment you see his pretty eyes, shining on yours.

They’re blue again.

“You’re back?” You breathe, and Bucky grins.

He ducks down, and presses another quick kiss over your lips.

“I’m back.”

 You’re ordered not to move, while he cleans up. You don’t think you could if you tried. Your body is jelly, everything is sore in the best way, and your head is spinning with too many thoughts of what the fuck happened.

You told Bucky you love him. You told Bucky you love him. You’d never even fully admitted it in your head and he just fucked it right out of you. You said it fast, too fast, he thought you hated him four hours ago and now he must think you’re some kind of freak for just saying you love him.

He makes you drink water and go to the bathroom. Draws you a bath and brings you a snack and changes the sheets. You manage to find the strength to stand out of the tub and dry yourself off, wrapping the towel around your body before shuffling out in the center of his room.

God, he’s so handsome. All tan muscles and scars you want to trace with your tongue. Too bad you fucking blew it, and now you’re never going to get to touch him again-

Bucky turns, and smiles when he sees you. You swallow, bracing for the worst as he crosses the room.

He takes your face between his hands and kisses you. Deep and gentle and maybe he just forgot-

“Love you too.” He says against your lips. “Just- Uh- While we’re saying it.”

Oh.

Or that. That’s nice.

You throw everything you have into kissing him back, but end up tackling him down onto the bed with the sudden surge of strength. Bucky chokes out a laugh in surprise, wrestling you over onto your back with kiss and wandering hands. You giggle, trying to push back, and he nips at the tip of your nose.

Then he pauses, and pulls up with a small, worried frown.

“You’re stayin’ the night, right?”

You almost snort. There’s no getting rid of you now. You’re going to stay forever, and as long as he’ll allow after that.

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

✦End note: this was longer than my college thesis btw. and i. put more effort into it.✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

You had scrolled through the backed-up list of numbers in your phone, most not even named and countless stale conversations having died after a horrendous first date. You never actually expected to receive a text back from any of them - so, when your phone finally buzzed against the stained wood of the coffee table, a fistful of popcorn halfway to your mouth, you froze.

The fluffy, white kernels slowly fell back in the bowl as you set it aside and you leaned forward to grab your phone. Your hand was shaking, and your heart was pounding. Who in the hell was crazy enough to text you back?

Someone horny enough, you supposed.

You sighed, opening your texts and staring at the grey bubble longer than you needed to, the white letters slurring together from the excess of alcohol.

Everything okay?

You laughed - like, actually laughed aloud. The sound, sharp and sudden, echoed off your living room walls. Why the fuck did this man care if everything was okay? You were looking for a hookup, not therapy. You texted back, autocorrect doing the heavy lifting for you.

I just asked if you wanted to come over. Could use the company.

It marked ‘read’ instantly and your heart stopped for just a second. And then he was typing…For a long damn time. Finally, a little ‘whoosh’ came across as his response popped into the chat.

Why don’t I, instead, take you to dinner while Becca is at volleyball practice?

You blinked. Your brain was running on booze and a crippling fear of meeting God. You had to reread it a few times. Becca…Becca…Becca…What the hell did your best friend have to- Oh. Oh no. No, no, and hell no. You panicked, instantly sobering up at least halfway. Your fingers were quick to type.

Oh! Wrong number, sorry!

Okay. Deep breaths. Maybe that would work. Ping. Or not.

What’s going on, doll? You and Becca not friends anymore? She was just talking about you the other day and finals…

Oh god. Yeah. No way to ‘wrong number’ this one. Okay, no problem. Just another deep fucking breath…Ping.

I insist. Dinner. I’ll pick you up. You still live just off campus? Birch and 44th?

You let out the bundle of oxygen you’d been hoarding in your lungs. You had just wanted a good time and now your best friend’s dad was offering to take you out. On what? A date? How old was he again?

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard so long your screen shut off. You looked at yourself in the dark reflection of the glass - hair messy, cheeks tear-stained, eyes puffy and dark. Fuck. Maybe you did just need to get out of the house for a little while.

You tapped your screen back awake.

Yeah, that’s still the address. What time?

Your finger was shaking as you hit ‘send’.

He started to type.

Be ready by 6 P.M. Make yourself feel pretty :)

Your heart fluttered a little. Oh. He wanted you to make yourself look pretty. Well…Alright then! You had quite a lot of work to do so you switched off the TV and headed straight for your bedroom. It was time to put yourself first and have a hell of a time doing it.

6 P.M. rolls around. A steady knock on the door.

You were just securing your final diamond earring and slipping on your last heel. You felt very…Nice. Cocktail dress, stockings, heels, and the only diamond set you owned. Makeup and hair done to the nines with a spritz of your favorite perfume. As you grabbed your clutch, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a little too much.

You opened the door, eyes widening a little as Becca’s father, Bucky, stood there just outside the doorway looking mighty damn fine. Gray slacks, white dress shirt unbuttoned in a casual yet polished manner. Gray sport jacket slung over his shoulder and that beautiful salt-and-pepper hair brushed back. You’d never really given him much of a second thought before - I mean, how could you? He was your best friend’s dad, and you and Becca had been friends since senior year of high school.

But, you just couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on every part of him - his strong facial features, stunning blue eyes, and the way his stubble danced along his chiseled jaw. Then there was the way his dress shirt clung to his chest and arms in a way that should have been a sin - tight in all the right places to show off the work he’d always put into his body since his Army days. It felt a little aggressive to say, but you wanted to chew on this man.

“Hi there, doll,” he said, voice sweet and low with something you’d never heard before. Something akin to the floral sweetness of honey dripping across cragged gravel.

You tried not to melt right then and there as he held out his hand to take yours. “Are you ready or do you need a minute?” He smiled and you felt your world tilt and your stomach churn. No one had the right to be that attractive. No one had the right to look this good and smile at you like that.

“O-Oh I…I’m ready,” you said, clearing your throat a little before giving him a polite smile and daintily placing your hand in his. His palm was practically twice the size of yours and you had to really put effort into not thinking about how good they’d feel inside you right about now…

The thing about Bucky, which had always been the thing about Bucky, was that he was a proper gentleman through and through. You often thought about how Becca ended up with much better men than you did - and it was probably because she was raised by such an exemplary man to begin with. He was the ultimate blueprint.

He walked you to his car, never a pace ahead nor a hair behind until he took a few strides in front of you to open the passenger side door for you. Your dress was a little on the short side, so as you dipped into his car, he used his sport jacket to shield you from prying eyes - he even looked away himself. How chivalrous!

The ride to the restaurant, itself, was great. A little awkward considering how the situation had manifested, but he was skilled at moving the small-talk along and making you feel like the center of attention. You discussed the weather, finals, and after-college plans with the ease of someone who’d done it a million times over with someone his age. It was the typical experience, just with far less lecturing and more mutual understanding than you’d come to expect.

Once you were pulled up to the valet, it wasn’t the valet worker who opened your door for you. No, it was Bucky shielding you again with that damn sport coat until you’d adjusted yourself and grabbed your clutch off the seat. You wobbled a little in your heels against the uneven cobblestone ground and his hand left the car door to catch your waist.

Your breath hitched, his touch so gentle and warm. Your gaze immediately flitted up to his face where he smiled in amusement. “Careful there, doll. Ground’s got teeth,” he murmured, making sure you were steady before he closed the car door and then slipped his sport coat on before offering you his arm. Of course, you obliged.

He lead you to up the little stone pathway to the restaurant door - the inside was dimly lit but you found yourself met with opulence beyond anything you’d experienced before. Crystal chandeliers gleaming and twinkling against candlelight that buzzed from the white clothed tables. You swallowed thickly. This place was expensive and you weren’t so sure you were worthy of it.

“Table for two, should be reserved under James Barnes,” you heard him say to the hostess at the stand.

“Says here you’d prefer the balcony view. Is that still correct?” the hostess inquired.

Your brows furrowed a little as you looked up at him. That sounded…Pricey. Exclusive. “Bucky…” you started to protest.

In the most polite way possible, he shushed you and spoke instead to the hostess. “Yes, please. Should you have anything available.” He gave you a sideways glance, one that silently read as ‘shut up and watch’. Watch what?

The hostess lead the two of you to a semi-private table on a balcony overlooking the city. It looked beautiful from this far away - so quiet and so peaceful. The air was crisp, but not at all too cold and the fireplace lit beside the table added a nice bit of coziness.

Bucky pulled your chair out and you took a seat after only a moment of hesitation. You weren’t used to this kind of treatment and couldn’t recall the last time a man ever gave this much of a shit about chivalry. He pushed you in close to the table and then seated himself politely across from you. That was just the thing wasn’t it? He was so polite.

The hostess left you two the wine menu and the prix-fixe menu detailing the night’s exclusive offerings before disappearing back inside the main restaurant. Outside, it was just you, Bucky, and one other couple seated several feet away. For the most part it was…Quiet. Peaceful. All except for the incessant pounding of your heart.

You picked up the wine menu, still trembling. He cocked an eyebrow as he glanced up at you over the top of his menu. “Why don’t you order a bottle, sweetheart? Seems like your nerves could use it.”

Your eyes flicked up from the tiny booklet, cheeks turning scarlet. “I’m not nervous,” you defended.

“Mmm…” he hummed, blue eyes focusing back on the menu. He was reading it for far too long for something so short. It seemed maybe he was nervous too.

“Mmm what?” you asked, setting the wine menu down and then mirroring his prior expression - cocked brow and a sharp gaze.

He didn’t look back up at you as he answered. “You’re awfully shaky. It’s like you’ve never had a real man take you on a proper date.”

You scoffed. “I’ve been on plenty of proper dates.”

He chuckled. “Doll, Olive Garden doesn’t count and neither does splitting the check.”

Your cheeks continued to bloom red. “In my defense, I’m a broke college student. We all are.” You bit your bottom lip as your eyes flicked down towards the prix-fixe menu.

Bucky finally set his own menu aside and leaned forward, his large, warm palms finding your forearms and resting there. You looked up. His gaze was almost too much and not enough in the same breath. “And that’s why we’re here tonight,” he said, voice low again in that tone that sent heat pooling straight between your thighs. Shamefully.

“So that I can show you how a real man treats a lady.”

You swallowed hard, eyes flicking down towards his hands and the only thing you could think of was how he could easily hold both your wrists above your head with no issue. Back pressed to the wall. His lips on yours. Fuck, where was your goddamn mind at?

He smirked. “Doll, where’s your head at?” Like you were an open book and he was reading it faster than you could write it.

You about choked. You cleared your throat. “Nothin’ just…You’re right. You’re right, I’ve never been on a proper date,” you mumbled, still avoiding contact with those beautiful blues that had you feeling like you were losing your mind - which, in your defense, you sort of were.

To your relief, your waitress for the night appeared to take your drink orders. For him, it was a glass of scotch. For you, it was a bottle of rosé because he’d insisted. She ran you two quickly through the courses on the menu before whisking away to work on the drink orders. And then there was an awkward silence that fell between the two of you. Him staring at you and you fidgeting with the bottom hem of your cocktail dress like if you rubbed the ruby fabric enough times it would send you home.

“You’re staring,” you muttered, deciding it was time to say something. Anything.

He laughed. “People tell me I’ve got a problem with it,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. You could feel his gaze boring into you. It was like you could sense he was on the verge of saying something but wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.

Hell, was any of this appropriate at all? Probably not. The age gap screamed very much not. But, part of you really wanted this. The older man. The experience. Someone who knew what the fuck they were doing.

“So, why are you trying to hook up with your best friend’s father?” His voice cut through your thoughts - the dreaded question that you’d been waiting for him to ask.

You blinked. “I’m sorry?” You tried to play dumb.

He smirked again. A slight tug at the corner of his lips but it was there. “You heard me, doll,” he said, voice dripping sinful honey that had your tongue feeling too big for your mouth and your thoughts racing beyond a speed you could comprehend.

“I…I…I didn’t…I didn’t know it was you,” you choked out.

Bucky’s expression turned puzzled. “You didn’t know it was me?” He almost sounded offended. Well, at least the night had gone halfway perfect.

You sighed. “I was just…I was buzzed. Okay, maybe a little drunk…”

“Uh huh…”

“And I…Well…I just texted a bunch of numbers hoping someone would answer…”

He hummed, expression still puzzled like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of your confession. His voice was…Concerned, though. As he spoke again, “Why are you drunk at ten in the damn morning and texting men who you don’t even know who they are?”

And then it all came crumbling down and the only thing left to do was pray your mascara was going to hold on tight. “Brad…I…I caught Brad cheating on me last week…” you said quietly, your eyes beginning to water. You fanned yourself with the menu, hoping you could hold it together and not seem like an absolute mess.

Bucky’s expression softened. All he could do was reach out across the table, palms up and inviting your own to meet his. Slowly, you set the menu down and placed your palms in his. Once again, his hands were twice the size of yours, practically swallowing them whole as he held them firm and gentle.

You sniffled, a tear falling down one cheek and then the other. Oh great. The waterworks. How lovely. But…He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he pulled one hand away, grabbed the linen napkin from across his lap, and brought it up to gently dab the tears away.

“Doll…” he started slowly, softly. “That doesn’t mean you go searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and texting men who aren’t any better for you than him…”

As if on cue, the waitress brings back your bottle of wine in a bucket filled with ice. She places a glass on the table, thin and dainty and made for sparkling wines. She popped open the bottle and poured your first glass to a perfect height. “Enjoy. The first course will come out shortly,” she said, leaving Bucky’s scotch at the end of the table before whisking off again.

Once she was gone, you blinked. “But…But you’re better than him.”

He laughed as he swirled the scotch around in the beveled crystal - amused. “Oh, I know I am. But what if one of those other boys had responded, hmm? Where would you be at now?”

You sighed. Not at a fancy dinner, that’s for sure. Probably getting drunk in your apartment and letting Jake from Hinge hit it from the back. And this was far better than that.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, voice breaking through your loud, mess of a mind. “Now, let me show you how a real man should treat you, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt like this, doll. You’re too good for that.”

And so, you sat across from him and let Becca’s dad, Bucky Barnes, show you how wining and dining really worked. You let him lead the pleasant conversation. He complimented you tastefully, reaching across the table to brush a hand across your cheek but not daring to move an inch lower. His gaze was respectable, kind. The warmth of the rosé was flowing through your veins and while you tried to flirt with him, he was always so polite. So reserved.

When it came time for dessert, a stunning display of comforting bananas foster, you two had decided to share the course. His spoon would clink against yours occasionally, a red flush covering your cheeks and your heart doing somersaults like a high school girl on a first date.

You hadn’t even noticed, but some of the caramel sauce that had come atop the ice cream was dribbling down your chin after a misguided, wine-drunk bite. He was quick to the rescue before it soiled your ruby dress.

He carefully leaned across the table, napkin outstretched in his hand as he very gingerly wiped the caramel from the corner of your mouth with a gentle smile upon his lips. “Careful there. Wouldn’t want you ruining that pretty little dress.” You felt like you could swoon, like your eyes would turn to hearts at any given second.

Bucky hovered there for a moment, over the table, hand outstretched and his face just close enough to smell the warm scotch and the sweet caramel on his breath. Your eyes flicked down to his lips and then back up to those piercing blue eyes that you swore would be the death of you.

You watched as his eyes mirrored yours now, flicking down once and then up almost too quick to catch. But then he was retreating, sitting back in his chair and quickly throwing up his hand as the waitress passed by. “Check please, ma’am?”

Bucky drove you home. He made sure to shield you again from prying eyes, although you caught it this time when he glanced down once to see the curve of your ass peek out from beneath your dress as you lowered yourself into his car.

He walked you up to the door, taking you by one hand and leading your waist with the other as you were very clearly drunk. Once you got to the door, you fumbled in your clutch for your keys, fingers trembling and causing you to drop them onto the welcome mat.

You moved to stoop down, but he stopped you with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, if you bend down right now, I’m not gettin’ ya back up off that concrete.” Yeah, he probably had a point there.

He bent down and grabbed the key - and, as he stood, his shoulder brushed against your arm and your breath hitched. Bucky’s eyes met yours, inches away from your face, and he took the key and pressed into your palm with a close-lipped smile. “Careful, doll.”

You felt like a deer caught in headlights for a good fifteen seconds, although those seconds felt like years. You blinked and then turned your attention back to the lock.

The world was spinning as you lined the key up and pushed it in, turning it over with a thump that nearly echoed the frantic pulse of your heart in your ears. You pushed the door open and he stuck one foot in to follow before you turned around, shocked.

He tilted his head. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just makin’ sure you make it past the threshold. Honest,” he said with a light chuckle.

And you let him. You let Bucky Barnes walk you to your couch and sit you down. You watched as he kneeled in front of you and very carefully guided your heels off your blistered feet - in your defense, you didn’t wear heels often.

Bucky fluffed up one of your decorative pillows that had seen better days, and then gently helped you lay down. The ceiling was swirling around and around, and in the same breath it felt like your body was on a boat rocking back and forth. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling ten seconds away from turning green.

The next thing you felt was the weight of his sport coat as he laid it across you, a makeshift blanket to ensure you didn’t go cold - or, a cruel souvenir for you to remember him by. For you to stare at every day from now on and think about his face. The way he bit his lip if he stared you up and down for a moment too long. The way you could feel his lips linger, dying to leave a kiss on your cheek, but then retreating cowardly.

“I gotta leave, doll,” you hear him say through the fog. “Next time, call me.”

And the click of the door closing behind him was the very last thing you heard before you blacked out.

The grey morning light is what woke you, streaming in through the sliding glass door all cheery and bright as if you weren’t currently crawling your way out of rock bottom. You groaned, the weight of his sport coat still on your body. The scent of him lingered there on the woven fabric. Sharp, woodsy, masculine. Driftwood and gunmetal.

You slowly sat up, bringing the collar of the coat to your face and inhaling deeply. Had you not had this tangible piece of evidence, you would have thought the prior night was nothing more than a drunken dream fueled by a bottle of Malibu.

You saw your clutch placed on the coffee table and you opened it, pulling your phone out. No new texts. You sighed.

You moved to start the routine you’d gotten in the habit of the over the last week. Tylenol, number one. Shower, second. Booze, third. Except, as your head pounded and your stomach growled with the craving of something other than liquor, you could hear Bucky’s voice in the back of your head. The one telling you not to drown your feelings in a bottle. The one telling you to call him.

So, you put the bottle of vodka down and picked up your phone instead. You tapped on his contact, which you made sure to actually label that morning, and called him. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you waited for him to pick up…

No answer.

You huffed and threw your phone down onto the table. Not like you expected an answer anyway. Just then, you heard a knock at the front door. Brows furrowed in confusion, you quietly padded over and peeked through the peep hole. All you saw was a rather stout man holding what had to be an entire bush of bright red roses.

You opened the door and the man set the bunch of roses down on the ground. They were in their own little golden vase, fanned out and pretty for display. “Got a delivery here from a Mr. Barnes,” the man said with a smile, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out an envelope. “Enjoy your morning, miss.”

You ran your fingertips across the heavy weight of the cardstock envelope, a gold wax seal holding closed all its secrets. You hauled the roses inside before sitting at your kitchen table and fumbling with the envelope as your fingers trembled.

You slipped out a short letter, hand-written with a good pen, paper, and ink. Thoughtful.

Doll, I hope you enjoyed yourself last night. Take care and I’ll see you tonight at 8:00 P.M. You don’t need to be fancy, and you know the address.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest for what felt like minutes, but in reality it was only a second or two. Your head was reeling now. Why did he want to meet you at his house? Your best friend’s house? Was she even going to be gone this evening?

You quickly checked your texts. Becca had been fairly MIA for her finals, which tracked considering she took her schooling so seriously. You scrolled up, glanced at the date on your calendar, and then your cheeks flushed crimson. Becca would be gone. Most of the night, actually. Her boyfriend, Cole, had his last baseball game of the school season and it didn’t start until seven.

Was he inviting you over for…? No. No, he couldn’t be. Even with the tension between you two the night before, you knew Bucky. You knew he wasn’t like that. You knew he didn’t think of you like that. Not at all.

As you folded the letter back up and tucked it neatly inside its envelope, you turned to take in the magnificent sight of the multiple dozens of roses that were bloomed as red as your cheeks as they sat there on the kitchen counter like a neon invitation. An invitation to see how far you could push Mr. Barnes that evening.

The house wasn’t anything special. A quaint little brownstone in Brooklyn that screamed home sweet home in the midst of corporate chaos and brightly lit billboards that never slept. The street was quiet, lined with old street lamps that gave it a sort of charm that felt captured in a different time.

You knocked at the deep red door, nervous as you tugged your coat in tight around you. You heard the deadbolt unlatch and then the door creaked open. There was Bucky, in blue jeans and a blue Henley with his hair messier than the night before - he looked much more lived-in and casual and less like a posh Ken doll fresh from the box.

“Come on in,” he invited warmly with a smile, stepping aside.

You gave him a curt, polite nod and a mirrored smile as you ascended the last two steps and crossed over the threshold. You were immediately greeted by the sobering smell of coffee brewing, and the sound of the TV playing the local news at a low volume. You jumped slightly when you felt his hand rest against the small of your back as he came around your left flank. “Can I offer you some coffee?” he asked, glancing down at you with irises that reminded you of endless blue skies on a clear June afternoon.

You glanced nervously between him and the television a few times before you decided you were much too jittery to drink any level of caffeine - so, you declined. “No, thanks,” you said quietly.

Your eyes widened as he moved to take your coat off for you. A red-hot blush flooded your cold cheeks with crimson as his hands brushed along your arms - the cool autumn air didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell against the heat of your own embarrassment. “O-Oh I-“ you stuttered, watching as he placed your coat on the rack just beside the door.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘thank you’?” Bucky quipped teasingly, beckoning for you to follow him into the kitchen.

You followed, leaning against the kitchen island while he poured himself a cup of coffee into one of those cheesy ‘World’s #1 Dad’ mugs. He leaned back against the dark granite countertop across from you, eyes flicking up to meet yours over the brim of his mug as he took a sip of the piping hot liquid.

You cocked an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you didn’t summon me here with a bush of roses just for me to watch you drink coffee,” you said, breaking the tensioned silence that had fallen between you.

He laughed a little, setting the mug to the side. “Guilty as charged,” he said, half-heartedly throwing up his hands before his expression shifted to something more serious.

“I asked you over because I wanted to tell you, in person, that this-“ he gestured from himself to you “-cannot be a…A thing.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his jaw ticked, clearly nervous.

You laughed. “Bucky, this was never meant to be a thing,” you said, mirroring him as he crossed his arms over his chest. You got the feeling he was backpedaling, like he realized something at the restaurant the night before and was now trying to build a wall to keep it out. “I was looking for a hookup, not a boyfriend.”

“Well, maybe since you’ve seen how a proper man treats a lady, perhaps you’ll rethink that.”

“I’m really not ready to get back in the dating scene…”

“Then wait.”

You paused. This was your life. Not his. Why in the hell did he care so much? “What’s it matter to you if I wait or not?”

His jaw ticked and his eyes briefly darted to the side, fixating on a point in space you couldn’t quite locate. “I don’t want you playing with fire so much you burn yourself,” he muttered, gaze going downtrodden.

“Why do you care?”

“Seeing you hurt, hurts me.”

“And why do you care that fucking much?”

Your question lands on him like a bullet to the chest. He picks up his coffee, mug trembling a little, and takes a sip like it’ll magically cure the ache in his chest. “It’s what Steve would have wanted me to encourage you to do.”

You sighed. Steve was your father, a military vet and close friend of Bucky’s who’d been killed in action many moons ago. You only found out about their connection to each after about a year of being close friends with Becca - at your high school graduation when Bucky gifted you a letter your father had left for you.

“He isn’t here and he doesn’t get to dictate what I do,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze because it’d only remind you that he was doing this to isolate himself.

“But I can still try to fulfill his wishes,” Bucky said, taking a couple steps forward and inserting himself into the awkward little bubble you’d built. It felt like he was taking up too much personal space but not enough at the same time.

Your breath hitched as he reached forward and pressed his metal palm to your cheek, something cold and shocking against the constant flush that reddened your skin. “And it’s so I no longer want what I can’t have.”

Your heart was pounding. You. He meant you. You were what he couldn’t have. You were the guilty pleasure, the reason he probably answered your text in the first place. And you were right - he was trying to build a wall. A wall between your heart and his.

You nuzzled against his palm, eyes fluttering shut. The touch felt holy. “What if I want it too?” you whispered, opening your eyes and looking up at him. “What about my own wishes?”

“It’s not the right thing to do…”

“I don’t want to do the right thing, Bucky!” you exclaimed, frustrated. You pushed yourself off the counter, standing closer to him now - almost chest to chest. “You don’t understand that all I want right now is something wrong! I want to feel something, Bucky. Anything. Anything other than this pain.” Your voice was beginning to crack and those beautiful blues of his were starting to well up with tears.

“I…” Bucky’s hand lingered on your cheek. You could tell by the way his fingers twitched that he was thinking. That he was trying to figure out if he had the strength to go against his own morals. “I…I can’t…”

You reached up and cupped his stubbled cheek with your own palm, thumb running along the plane of his cheekbone. “You can.”

He looked like he was about to break, about to shatter completely. The tension was thick enough to feel, heavy and suffocating. His eyes flicked from yours and down to your lips. Back up to your eyes. Back down to your lips. “This isn’t a good idea…” he murmured, leaning in close enough now that you could smell the mix of coffee and whiskey and mint on his breath.

You took a shuddering breath, eyes closing again because you couldn’t stand the weight of his gaze. “I don’t want it to be good. I just want to feel…” you breathed, shaky hand coming to rest against his muscled chest. “I just want to feel you.”

You could see it in the way his jaw ticked - you could feel it in the way he wasn’t sure if your hand burned him or comforted him. Bucky was trying so hard to resist the temptation in front of him. “Please, doll…I can’t,” he pleaded brokenly, but it was weak and he made no attempt to pull away from your touch.

You leaned up, nose nudging his and lips so close to brushing as you murmured, “Then why are you still here?”

It could be heard in his chest, something deep and guttural and longing all pulled together into a groan he couldn’t hold back. And suddenly, both of his hands were holding your face - one metal, one flesh. The way his lips smashed into yours would be forever imprinted in your mind. You could only imagine how long he’d waited to have this. To have you.

The kiss was everything - teeth, tongue, breath, and heat. He nipped playfully at your bottom lip and you growled, which elicited a deep chuckle you’d never heard before - amused and pleased. His tongue explored your mouth like it was trying to map it, and yours did the very same to his. Nothing about this was normal. But you didn’t want it to be.

When he broke the kiss, it was only because one of you needed to fucking breathe or you’d both be dead on the floor. Panting, he whispered, “Is that what you wanted?”

You nodded wordlessly and pulled him right back in, trying to drown him under the weight of how much you craved him. His hands found your hips and gripped at the soft flesh, picking you up like you weighed nothing and perching you atop the granite.

His flesh hand snaked its way up your blouse, unclasping your bra with a practiced ease that shouldn’t have turned you on but it did. He pulled the garment off and tossed it on the kitchen floor, the silk of your blouse cascading in cool puddles across your tits. You shivered, only cold for a moment before his palm was kneading at the mounds of flesh like he’d been dreaming of how good they’d feel.

You moaned out, breaking the kiss as you tossed your head back when his thumb and forefinger began to tease and roll your nipple between calloused skin. “Fuck,” you groaned, hands scrambling from purchase at the edge of the countertop.

You barely had time to react before Bucky was ripping your blouse from your torso, a shocked gasp falling from your lips. “Bucky!” you scolded, but he remained unbothered and on a mission.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he muttered, stooping down and taking your neglected breast into his mouth as his hand continued to work the other.

The feel of his hot, wet mouth and tongue across your nipple was enough to have you keening up off the counter and further into his touch. It felt so fucking good that you were convinced you’d cum just from the way he worshipped your tits.

He pulled back, lips glistening with saliva and pupils blown as he glanced up at you. He looked feral - hungry and ready to feast. You watched as he dropped to his knees and rucked up your pencil skirt to reveal the lacy panties that clung to your dripping wet core.

“This what I do to ya, doll?” he breathed, practically drooling at the smell of your arousal as it assaulted his senses. He just needed to taste you. Devour you.

You whimpered and nodded. “Y-Yes,” you nearly whispered, brain short-circuiting as you felt his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties and peel them away.

He watched, mesmerized by how your glistening folds clung to the lace, groaning as he could now see how drenched and pretty you were for him. He tossed the panties somewhere in the same direction as your bra, and then his hands were prying you open to make way for his head as he leaned in and licked a slow, warm stripe straight up the center of your heat.

You felt your toes curls and your back bow a little as the tip of his tongue traced devastating circles around your clit before diving back down and straight past your entrance.

“Bucky!” you gasped out, head thrown back as your hands found purchase in that gorgeous salt-and-pepper mane of his. “Fuck-“ you groaned, listening as the sounds he made were so obscene they had you blushing. Licking, slurping, sucking…He was like a man starved and you were the best damn meal he could’ve been served.

Bucky hummed against your core, sending vibrations straight through your clit as his lips closed around the sensitive bud and began to suck. You were already trembling from the overload of pleasure, but that wasn’t enough for him. No, he needed you screaming for his mercy.

You felt as he teased your entrance with his forefinger, just barely pushing it in and then retreating. Nothing he could’ve done in that moment would have prepared you for when he plunged two fingers deep inside you and curled them with such ease it was almost second nature.

You could feel yourself clench around his digits with his name on your lips as you let out a whorish moan. Between his mouth and tongue working your clit and his fingers quite literally beckoning you to cum for him, you were in pure, blissful heaven.

That burning coil in the pit of your stomach began to wind tighter and tighter, and he could tell. He hummed in approval, fingers bullying into your g-spot now with a precision that was, frankly, unfair.

“C’mon, doll,” he urged as he lapped at your clit. “Cum f’me. Lemme have it all…” The way his voice was so deep, so smooth…It was like silk over gravel. And it had you coming undone the second he begged for you like that.

Your body arched forward as you moaned his name, nails digging into his scalp as your toes curled and your entire body felt like it was trying to levitate off the damn counter. But he didn’t stop - even as you pulsed and gushed around him, he kept on fucking going.

“B-Bucky,” you whimpered out as it was bordering on overstimulation. “B-Buck please…” You were pleading with a man who was too damn happy with where he was. If you’d let him, he’d live there between your thighs and die a very satisfied man.

“One more f’me…Please,” he begged softly, warm breath ghosting across your core before he dove back in and began sucking at your clit again.

You could feel tears blurring the edges of your vision, and you weren’t even sure if your first orgasm had ended before the second begun - but, you still felt it all the same. The overwhelming tidal wave of bliss that caused your body to clench around his fingers like your cunt was trying to trap him there. You let out something between a moan and a sob, grip faltering on his hair as your body collapsed back against the shockingly cold granite.

Your head was spinning, vision blurred and hearing muffled. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum so hard in your whole goddamn life.

“So, so good f’me, doll,” you heard him praise you through the haze. He slowly pulled his fingers out, your dripping cunt fluttering around nothing at the absence of him. He gladly lapped at the slick release you’d rewarded him with, earning a very fucked-out groan from you. “Tastes like heaven and ya sound like it too when you’re cummin’ f’me like that,” he drawled, getting to his feet.

As he rose, you could see just how hard he was against the stiff denim of his jeans, and that only filled you with a new wave of want - of craving.

A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips when he noticed you were staring - not that you were trying to stare, it was just there. “Not right here, doll,” he murmured like he could read your mind, a finger hooking under your chin and gently bringing your lips up to his as he kissed you with the remnants of your release still glistening on his skin. The taste of you and him combined was intoxicating, a drug that you only wanted more of…

But then he was pulling away and you were left pouting. “Hey, don’t you pull that with me,” he teased, pressing a chaste peck to your forehead before you found yourself being lifted into his arms - bridal style - like you weighed no more than a feather. “You’ll get what you want. Just gotta be patient, sweetheart.”

The sickly sweet kindness in his smile was almost cruel in this scenario, but you silently snaked your arms around his neck as he carried you through the narrow foyer and up the short staircase to the second floor. The house wasn’t cramped, necessarily. But, with him carrying you through the tight halls, it felt rather cozy with just the two of you alone.

His foot nudged the door open to the master bedroom, old brass hinges creaking softly. You found yourself being laid so gingerly onto the mattress you could almost feel the tears welling again in your eyes. He treated you like something special, something fragile. It made your heart swell a little.

“May I?” he asked, nodding to your skirt. It was your last remaining article of clothing. You nodded back in permission, cheeks flushed crimson in the low lamplight that streamed through the window and illuminated everything in a heavenly, golden glow.

Bucky shimmied your skirt gently down your legs and tossed it aside before he made zero show about stripping down himself - but, it was a delicious sight to you all the same.

Watching as the layers of clothing were peeled away, revealing nothing but rippling muscles and silvery scars. The scar where metal met man was particularly bad, but still beautiful it’s own devastating rite. His dress shirt the night before hadn’t left much to your imagination, but even then, this was far beyond what your mind had conjured - he had the appearance that God himself carved him from the finest marble. An aged artwork that only grew finer with the weather and the years.

“You’re staring again,” he murmured lowly, crawling over top of your body and caging you in with solid forearms and beefy biceps you swore one day you’d take a bite of.

Heat rushed across your cheeks and you brought your hands up to rest against his biceps, fingers gripping flesh one side and brushing across whirring metal plates on the other. “I’m just admiring what you’ve been keeping from me,” you whispered.

“Well, it’s not polite to stare, doll,” he said, dipping down so your lips were brushing dangerously close.

“It’s not polite to keep a girl waiting,” you quipped back, feeling your breath hitch a little just feeling his bare chest pressed so intimately to your own.

“See? You’re learning,” he chuckled softly, ducking down and beginning to kiss and suck at the suppleness of your neck. “Good girl,” you heard him mumble against your skin.

You arched up into his feather-light touch, lips trailing from neck to collarbone to breasts to torso as soft purple bruises began to bloom in his wake. And then he was sitting back on his knees and you took another unashamed moment to fully appreciate him. To admire his cock, impossibly hard and gorgeously flushed, leaking precum like he’d been edged for hours.

He opened his mouth and you interrupted him. “Yeah, yeah. Staring again. I get it, Barnes. Just let me eye-fuck you, yeah?” you muttered, and that got an actual laugh from him.

Reaching his flesh hand down, he gripped himself at the base and started to stroke his aching length. “You like what you see?” he breathed, angling his hips a little so his precum dripped along your thighs like a sinful, pearlescent trail that lead to your core. “You imagining what it can do to ya, doll?”

You nodded, more than eager. “Wanna feel it inside me…Please,” you pleaded, practically drooling as you watched him rub the head of his cock through your slick folds. “Please…”

“Mmm…Please who?” he asked, gaze flicking up to your face as it was contorted in desperation for him.

It took you a split second to think about what he might’ve been asking. And then it popped into your mind and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “You’re a dirty man, Barnes,” you purred, only to feel the grip of metal meet your throat. Your eyes went wide.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, and the gravelly rumble of his voice went straight to your cunt as your walls fluttered around nothing.

“Yes, Sergeant,” you said, pushing your throat up further into his hand and smirking.

Bucky groaned, swearing in the back of his mind that you were going to be the death of him. He squeezed at your throat one last time before posting the same vibranium palm right beside your head. “That’s right, doll,” he muttered, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your skull as you felt him begin to push inside you.

The stretch burned, but the way he so perfectly filled and dominated every inch of space was immaculate - let alone the way you could feel every pulsing vein and soft ridge brushing along your walls as he eased in inch by brutal inch. He paused about halfway, concerned by how your features were twisted. “Doin’ okay there, doll?” he asked, flesh hand coming up to cup your cheek. The way his thumb ran along the high plane of your cheekbone was tender, loving.

You nodded, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes and wet eyelashes. “More than fucking okay,” you managed to choke out with a small laugh. It was hard to put into words just how good he felt buried so deep inside you that you swore he was pushing the very oxygen from your lungs.

Bucky let out a soft grunt once he was fully sheathed, already appearing wrecked. “Fuck, doll,” he breathed, nearly panting as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. “So fuckin’ tight, ya know that? Squeezin’ me…Milkin’ me dry already and I haven’t even started…” He let out a small, breathless chuckle.

You let out a laugh just as breathless as his. “Sounds like you’re not gonna last very long, old man,” you jeered playfully.

His cheeks flushed bright red, but he didn’t reply. He only slowly began to pull out, groaning raggedly as he felt the way his cock dragged along your walls - the way your body was actively trying to pull him back and keep him in.

He pulled out nearly all the way and then pushed himself back in all at once. You moaned so loudly when he bottomed out that you were certain the neighbors three doors down heard you. And that wasn’t the last time they would, unfortunate enough as it was for them. Because he pulled out and then pushed back into you again, forcing the same exact whorish moan past your lips before you could catch it.

“You like what I do to ya, doll? Like when I give it all to ya? When I bury my cock so deep ya feel it here?” he drawled, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips as his flesh hand pressed down against a small bulge in your lower abdomen and you just about levitated off the goddamn bed.

The pace he set was steady and calculated. One that allowed for him to achieve the same depth of penetration each and every time - the same devastating attention to making sure he hit all the right spots. It wasn’t brutal because it was fast - no, it was brutal because he took his time and holy fuck it was a borderline religious experience.

It felt as though you had no idea where your body ended and his begun as he rucked your legs up over his shoulders and you found yourself with nails raking down his back as your ankles were pushed back damn near close to the sides of your head. The position was passionate, intimate. Sweat began to pool where your bodies were melded, chest to chest and forehead to shoulder. You couldn’t help the way you moaned his name, and he couldn’t help the way he panted yours like he was begging for mercy.

“Takin’ me s’well…Atta girl,” he breathed out, his praises sending sparks of red-hot pleasure straight to your cunt. “Gonna fill ya up, doll…Claim ya…Make ya mine like I shoulda done a long time ago…”

You whimpered at his words, nails digging crescents into the tops of his shoulders as you clung on for dear life. “B-Bucky~” you moaned out weakly, head fuzzy as your mind was actively being fucked stupid. “Please…” you begged, pulling at him and trying to encourage him to go faster. Harder.

“You sure, doll?”

“If you don’t fuck me into this goddamn mattress-“

He cut you off with a sharp snap of his hips. Then another. And another. You could feel the head of his cock bullying into that soft, spongy spot inside you and you cried out. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” you exclaimed with each thrust, eyes lolling shut and your head hitting the pillow as the pleasure began conjuring stars across your vision.

Bucky groaned, something deep, guttural, and primal - something you hadn’t expected from someone who seemed so…Quiet. “It’s like you were made f’me, doll,” he whimpered, his rhythm beginning to falter. “Ya gonna cum f’me? Can feel ya grippin’ me…Know you’re close, sweetheart. Need ya to give it to me…”

He was begging for you in the same way someone would pray for forgiveness - reverent and wrecked and desperate. You could feel that coil in your lower abdomen tightening, pulling taut until your orgasm snapped through your body unyielding and violent.

“B-Bucky! A-Ah~!” you barely managed to squeak out as you felt your spine arch off the mattress and your body seize beyond your control. He groaned again as your cunt clenched down around him, and you could feel as he began to throb and pulse ropes of white, hot cum inside you at the exact same time.

“Shit-“ he grunted out, stilling inside you and partially collapsing his weight on top of you as his chest heaved and gleamed with sweat.

Your head was fuzzy, warm. The afterglow rolled over your body like something soft and comforting - floaty like you were resting on a cloud of your own pleasure. “Mmm…Bucky?” you asked, trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

“Is that how a man should fuck me proper?”

He laughed, turning his head to pepper soft kisses on your cheek. “Yeah, doll. I’d say so.”

He slowly pulled out and then flopped onto the bed beside you. The loss of him inside you felt almost great enough to mourn, but his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close quickly filled that void. “And now I’ve ruined you for all the boys,” he teased, kissing your forehead before gathering you in close to his chest - he was like a furnace, and he held you like his greatest treasure.

You giggled. “S’okay,” you mumbled against his skin, lazily tangling your legs with his. “‘M yours now anyway.”

The ceremony was about to start, and you and your friend grabbed the only free seats. Right behind the family of the groom. Nia was busy checking out the best man. She had a weakness for guys in suits and bowties.

“That one is mine,” she whispered. “Hands off.”

You ignored her. The groom was more intriguing to you. He was standing there, looking bored. His hair was styled in a tucked messy bun, as if he didn’t care about the wedding and his bride.

“Sheesh, did you see the guy’s arms? I bet that poor jacket is fighting for its life,” you whispered in your best friend’s ear.

Nia snickered. It was finally time for the best part of being a wedding crasher—talking trash about the bride, the groom, and anything in between.

This groom, though, was different. He was tall, beefy, and thick in all the right places. Nia couldn’t wait, but you were distracted by the groom. Somehow, his eyes always found you in the crowd.

The music started to play, and it was time for the bride. You didn’t care. Watching the groom's face become gloomy was more interesting than the woman in a too-expensive dress and a necklace costing more than your whole apartment dangling from her neck.

“He doesn’t look happy,” you whispered while your friend was busy taking pictures of the bride. She snickered because the bride wore a monstrosity consisting of lace, tulle, and attitude.

“She looked like Barbie ended up wrapped in every wedding dress in town,” Nia murmured low to avoid catching anyone’s attention. She was watching the bride stiffly walk toward the altar. “If I had their money, I’d buy myself a nice dress. She should sue her stylist.”

“Hmm…” You dipped your head to watch the groom’s reaction. He didn’t look impressed or excited. It felt like this was more like an inconvenience than a happy occasion for him.

“Babe,” Nia hissed, “did you even listen? She looks awful. I took so many pictures for my secret blog.”

“One day, someone will find your blog and spank your ass,” you sassed, but your eyes drifted toward the groom again. He was distractingly handsome, and there was something about him that captivated you.

“Maybe I like that,” Nia snickered next to you. “Y/N, stop staring at the groom. He’s going to be married to that woman in a few minutes. Focus on trash-talking her dress and the food. I’d die for some good cake.”

“I bet she has an awful taste in cake too.” You tried to mess with your friend to distract yourself from staring at the groom any longer. “What if there’s no cake at all? Maybe she’s serving salad.”

“Y/N, don’t jinx it! I want cake, and I’ll get it,” Nia said. She was a hoe for food and would sell her soul for a slice of vanilla sponge cake. “The cake is the best part of a wedding.”

“Hmm…” You were back to watching the groom. He looked at his watch and sighed. The bride took her sweet time walking toward the altar, making a show of her entrance, and he looked annoyed. His eyes drifted back toward the guests and landed on you. Or at least you thought so.

“Stop staring at him. You’re like a woman possessed, ready to drop her panties at a church.”

Nia flashed you a smile before turning her attention to the bride and her awful wedding dress. She snapped a few more pictures, commenting on every step the bride took.

“Says the woman sneaking inside a church and lying about us being distant cousins of the bride,” you snickered as you watched the groom taking the bride’s hand. He still looked annoyed but went along with the ceremony.

“He’s kind of intense,” Nia murmured. She was watching the ceremony, her eyes glued to the groom now. “I couldn’t live with that kind of guy.”

You followed the ceremony, listening to the priest. He was about to ask a question you rarely hear these days when the groom dropped his head to look at his best man. They seemed to have a silent conversation because the blonde suddenly turned to look your way.

“Fuck, I think we’ve been caught. The blonde guy is staring at us.” You panicked a little. It’d be the first time your cover was blown.

“Nah, he’s just checking me out.” Nia winked at the blonde who looked interested. Your friend always had a way to catch a guy’s attention. “He’s not too bad to look at. I’ll take one for the team if I must.”

“If anyone present knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." The priest said, and you, ever the clumsy idiot, snickered.

“He could do so much better. That guy is a hottie,” you sighed, waiting for the priest to continue. He didn’t.

Your body went stiff when the groom raised his hand.

“I think she’s right,” he said. You chuckled nervously when the groom dropped the bride’s hand. He nodded at his best man before turning his head to look your way. “How about we cut this short? Steve, would you do me a favor and bring the bride home?”

“Where to?” Steve asked. “What about the deal, Buck?”

“Forget the deal,” Bucky said, his eyes glued to you. “I need a bride to fulfill my grandfather's ultimatum. This doesn’t mean I must marry this woman.”

The bride was speechless, and so were you. Without another glance, Bucky left his bride at the altar to stalk towards you and Nia.

You shifted in your seat, trying to find a way to sneak out of the church.

Nia stiffened next to you. She wasn’t used to getting caught, and now, you both were in trouble.

Before your body could catch up with your brain, the groom stood right in front of your seat. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable.

“So,” Buck said, expectantly furrowing his brows. “You said I could do better. How much better?”

Part 2

Gathering your courage, and the fire of desperation simmering insistently in your belly, you shoved against Steve’s chest, trying to twist your knee up into his groin while creating some distance between you and the two men. But Steve was stronger and quicker, and he simply yanked you closer, allowing Bucky to crowd you into the broad body of his enforcer.

You were stuck, and it didn’t take long before you recognized that trying to fight your way out from between a rock (Steve’s firm chest) and a hard place (Bucky’s broad body) would only leave you tired. When your struggles finally ceased, Bucky gave a low, teasing chuckle, the warmth of his breath ghosting down your bare neck as he loomed above you from behind.

“It’s a shame you caught her so soon,” Bucky said, speaking to Steve even as his hands shifted higher on your body, curling around your ribs. His palms were scorching hot and greedy through the thin fabric of your gown. “We might’ve been able to learn what she was up to without having to pry it out of her—but it is more fun this way.”

The casual way the mob boss spoke about you, as if it was a foregone conclusion you’d spill all your secrets to him and his enforcer, pricked at your pride. You straightened your spine and tossed your head in annoyance, glaring at Bucky over your shoulder.

“I’ll never tell you anything,” you hissed. 

The steel in your voice had no effect on the mafia boss.

If anything, he looked even more amused, the slight curve at the corner of his mouth deepening infinitesimally, and his blue eyes sparking with a glimmer of delight. The tips of his fingers brushed the underside of your tits, distracting you, and it took everything in you to stop yourself from shivering at his touch. 

God help you, but it felt good to have Bucky’s hands on you—and not just his, but Steve’s too. Their fingers were deft, their palms warm. It didn’t matter that you were certain their hands had, at one time or another, been stained in blood. Not when they touched you with so much greedy possessiveness, it was liable to make you forget your mission and why it was so important you get that diamond and get free. 

“Y’know, when a woman tries to infiltrate my organization, the first thing they do is sleep with me,” Bucky went on, as if you hadn’t spoken, his tone entirely too conversational. You tried to focus, but it was difficult with both men touching you.

“Oh, have a great many women infiltrated your organization, then?” you shot back before he could continue, ignoring the thorn of jealousy that had lodged between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. It certainly had nothing to do with the proximity of the mob boss and his enforcer—nothing at all. “Sounds like you have a security problem.”

Your eyes found Steve, giving him a sarcastic sneer that had his gaze heating, his hand tightening around your wrist in a warning. Bucky’s fingertips dug into your ribs and he pulled your back flush against his chest, the long line of his body fitting perfectly to yours—so perfectly that you could feel the hard bulge of his cock against your lower back.

“But not you, doll,” Bucky said, ignoring you again. Instead, he ground his hardness into your ass until you were sucking in a gasp, heat pooling between your thighs as your body ached to shift so that thick bulge was pressed against your heated center. “Did you think teasing me, making me hard for you and leaving me wanting, would make me a dumber, easier mark?”

Truthfully, that had been your plan. Sort of.

In your life as a thief, you’d learned that every job needed its own approach, and that most men were much easier to manipulate when they were thinking with their dicks. With his playboy persona, you’d thought Bucky Barnes would be a simple mark who would be too distracted by your tits and ass to notice you robbing him blind—and that his most trusted enforcer, Steve Rogers, was too much of a meathead to catch you.

What you’d failed to account for was how much the two men would intrigue and charm you. Bucky, with his charismatic smile and dazzling personality, and Steve, with his handsome glower and too-sharp eyes, had snuck their way beneath your defenses, stealing more of your heart than you’d even realized.

Well, on some level you’d understood how dangerous they could be. That was the real reason you hadn’t slept with Bucky—you knew that if you fell into bed with the mob boss, you might start envisioning a life where you were free to be with who you wanted, rather than indebted to your employer. Leaving Bucky wanting had just been an added bonus.

Still, your pride smarted from how easily he’d nailed it on the head, and you couldn’t let that slide. So, you raised your chin and managed to look down your nose at the mob boss, giving him an imperious look as you responded to his question.

“No, I just didn’t want to fuck you,” you taunted, lying through your teeth. “I may be a thief, but I have standards.” 

It was the wrong thing to say if you’d wanted to placate the mafia boss—which made it exactly the right thing to tell him, since your only play was to poke and prod at the men trapping you until a chink appeared in their armor and you could slip away. You just had to bide your time, you were sure, and then you could escape.

Bucky’s expression darkened, like storm clouds rolling in to block out the sunny blue sky, and you had to bite back a grin at the obvious ire on his face. You didn’t know what to expect from him, didn’t know if you were prepared for Bucky’s anger, but a part of you welcomed it with open arms. You wanted to see what he’d do if you pushed him far enough.

But it wasn’t just outrage in the mob boss’s expression—there was amusement and desire, too. Maybe even a hint of respect. It swirled into a heady cocktail that had your body clenching tight in anticipation despite you trying to ignore your attraction to him.

Quick as a flash of lightning, Bucky shoved one of his hands between your thighs, cupping your heated core through your dress. Your body jerked in surprise, even as your pussy pulsed with desire at the warmth and strength of his palm. You squirmed in Steve and Bucky’s arms, trying to get away from the burgeoning pleasure you felt.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you intended to ask the mob boss what the fuck he was doing, but before you could, Bucky’s hand was pulling back. Then, he gave you a sharp smack, right between your thighs—right against your pussy.

“Ah!” you cried, a little stinging pain mixing with a whirlwind of pleasure that tore through your body, making you lurch forward, only for Steve to hold you tighter. You braced against the enforcer with your free hand, turning your head to catch Bucky’s eye over your shoulder. “What the hell was that for?”

Instead of answering your question, Bucky only grinned unrepentantly, and did it again. He spanked your pussy while he watched your face, waiting for your reaction, which you were determined not to give him.

The fabric of your dress and panties softened the blow, so it barely stung, but despite your best intentions, you couldn’t hide the way it left you panting and feeling empty. A dizzying desire surged through your body, clouding your mind and making your eyes go hazy, your mouth dropping open on a soft sound of need.

“For every lie you tell, doll, you’ll get one spank,” Bucky rumbled, his chest pressing against your shoulders until you were pinned to Steve in front of you. 

There was nowhere for you to go, nowhere to look but into the mafia boss’s heated, sparkling blue eyes while his enforcer held you up. It was embarrassing to realize how shaky your legs were after a couple of soft spanks, and you resented how grateful you felt toward Steve for keeping you upright, so you didn’t lose your dignity—not yet anyway.

“If you keep lying,” Bucky went on, rubbing his palm against your smarting center and making your breath catch in your throat as you held back a moan. “You’re only torturing this sweet little cunt, and she doesn’t deserve that, does she?” He petted you between your thighs, managing to make the soothing gesture feel condescending.

“I…I haven’t lied,” you said, wincing a little at how breathless you sounded. But you dug deep for your own self-preservation and scrounged up a glare, hurling it at Bucky while he loomed over your shoulder.

The mob boss tsked low in his throat and slapped your pussy again, harder, making you squirm and bite back a whine. Your heart pounded in your chest and you were growing uncomfortably wet, your panties sticking to your damp flesh, but you tried to rein yourself in, not wanting to give Bucky the satisfaction of seeing any more of your reaction. 

“That’s lie number three,” Bucky tutted, soothing your pussy with soft, teasing touches that were working you up just as much as his spanks. “Should I tell you what the first two were, or would you rather be a good girl and confess?”

Something in your belly swooped at the words ‘good girl’ and you had to tamp down on the urge to do what he asked. Instead, you gritted your teeth and glared at him, shaking your head. Bucky remained completely unfazed, chuckling at your furious expression like you were nothing more than an unruly kitten. 

“Looks like our little thief isn’t ready to be good for us, huh, Stevie?” Bucky commented, tossing a cavalier grin at his enforcer, who grunted in agreement, the sound hotter than it had any right to be. “But that’s alright, we’ve got all night, don’t we?”

“All night,” Steve repeated in confirmation, and you angled your head so you could look up into his face. He was watching you with stormy blue eyes, lust and a possessive kind of promise roiling in the depths of his gaze. “All week, all month—hell, we could keep her forever if we wanted.”

Your breath inexplicably hitched at the word ‘forever’, your heart beating so hard against your ribs that you wondered if Steve could feel it through his suit. From the way his eyes darkened and narrowed on your face, you could tell he was reading your reaction—and he liked what he saw, a hint of a smile flickering around the edge of his mouth.

“The lies you told,” Bucky began, amusement in his tone as he dragged your attention back to him. “First, you lied when you said you weren’t going to tell us anything.” His hand stroked your pussy through your dress and you had to fight not to writhe against him. “And the second lie was when you said you didn’t want to fuck me.”

An affronted scoff burst from your lips, your mind momentarily clearing of the pleasure Bucky had been stoking in your core. “You think real fucking high of yourself, boss,” you sneered, ignoring the fact that he was telling the truth, and you did, in fact, want to fuck him—and his enforcer.

You’d hoped your comment might push Bucky to breaking, but he only grinned, sharing the expression with Steve before ducking down so his face was close to yours.

“Oh, so you aren’t soaking wet for us, doll?” Bucky mocked, his fingers teasing along the seam of your sex. You were so embarrassingly wet, you wondered if he could feel it even through the fabric of your dress and panties. “If I pulled your dress up and pushed your panties to the side, you wouldn’t be dripping wet for us, huh?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t protest because you’d only be lying, and you didn’t need Bucky spanking you again. You weren’t sure you could hold in your moan if he did. So you simply rolled your eyes and refused to give him the satisfaction of answering truthfully. Pouting, you stared petulantly at Steve’s chest. 

“That’s what I thought,” Bucky rumbled, a smile in his voice as he grabbed your face, refusing to let you ignore him. Your stomach flipped at the sight of his small grin, and you glared harder, which only made the mob boss chuckle under his breath. “Just wait and see, doll, we’ll make you our good girl yet.”

It was difficult to speak with the way Bucky’s fingers were digging into your cheeks, but you rolled your eyes and managed a testy, “Doubtful,” that he completely ignored. 

“Get rid of her dress, Stevie,” Bucky ordered, a smirk on his face as he glanced at his most trusted enforcer. When he looked back at you, there was an eager kind of hunger in his eyes that had your belly bottoming out with anticipation.

It was a good thing the mob boss had such a tight hold on you because without it, you would’ve stumbled when Steve stepped back. Cold air rushed against your front, and you couldn’t hold back a shiver at the loss of his warmth, your nipples pebbling against the lace of your undergarments. 

Steve’s eyes lingered on your chest, his expression too calm and stoic to be leering, which somehow only made you hotter. You had to stop yourself from squirming in Bucky’s arms, belatedly remembering you were meant to be planning your escape. 

Your mind was lethargic as you tried to assess your surroundings and look for a way out. You were too distracted by the sight of Steve lowering his big body down onto one knee, an image flashing in your mind of Steve tossing one of your thighs over his shoulder and burying his face between your legs. Your hips twitched toward his head, and you could’ve sworn a smirk flickered at the edge of his mouth.

But then Steve was gathering the skirt of your dress in his big hands. He tore through it easily, like he was ripping a piece of tissue paper instead of rending the fabric of a designer dress. 

“This cost me three month’s rent!” you screeched before you could stop yourself, not realizing just how revealing those words were. 

Steve paused, his eyes finding Bucky’s over your shoulder. The men had a silent conversation that would’ve annoyed you if you weren’t so focused on appraising the damage done to your dress and wondering if there was any way to fix it. 

It had been an extravagant purchase, even after your last score, but you’d looked at it as an investment, something you could wear for multiple jobs. But it was ruined. You knew just by looking at it that there was no salvaging the tear right up the center of the skirt. It was such a shame because the dress was beautiful and, more importantly, you’d looked exquisite in it.

You were very near to tears when Bucky’s hand shifted, his palm pressing beneath your chin, fingers digging lightly into your cheek to turn your head to look at him. You tried to blink the tears from your eyes, but you weren’t quick enough and you were sure he saw them. Embarrassment blazed hot in your face. 

“I’ll get you another one, doll,” Bucky said softly, his tone gentler than you thought possible from the mob boss. “I’ll pay for it.”

An uncomfortable feeling snuck between your ribs, burying deep in your heart and it was such a foreign emotion that it took you a moment to recognize it as gratitude. No one, let alone the men you stole from, had ever made such a generous offer before, and you didn’t know what to do with it. 

Rather than do something stupid, like thank the mafia boss, you set your jaw so your lower lip wouldn’t wobble and nodded your head in acceptance. 

Bucky stared at you for a short moment longer, an almost affectionate smile playing on his lips, before gesturing for Steve to continue. The sound of rending fabric wasn’t nearly so painful when you knew the dress would be replaced, and you simply watched as the enforcer continued his rough removal of the garment. 

In no time at all, Steve was yanking the tattered shreds of your gown away from your body and leaving them in a pile of fabric on the floor of the storage room. Squaring your shoulders and raising your chin proudly, you feigned a practiced poise as you stood before the handsome men in nothing more than a matching set of lacy lingerie and heels.

“Pretty,” Steve mumbled as he stood, one of his hands skating up your ribs, the rough callouses on his fingers teasing your soft skin. His other hand traced the edge of your panties where they sat snugly on your hip, his blue eyes warm and molten as he stared at your body, making your breath stall in your lungs. 

For a brief moment, Steve explored the curves of your body—the dip of your waist, the weight of your breasts, the roundness of your hips and ass—before he seemed to remember himself. With an audible swallow, the muscle in his jaw popping, he forced his hands to his sides, meeting your gaze with hard eyes.

“For a thief, anyway.”

Steve’s scornful words felt like a thorn pricking your heart, and it took every bit of your self-control not to show it on your face. You weren’t sure how successful you were when something flickered in his eyes, something that looked a bit like regret. 

Behind you, Bucky gave a soft chuckle, like he was amused by you and Steve. But you didn’t have the capacity to think about why you’d responded to Steve’s dismissive comment the way you did, not when Bucky was ducking his head so his mouth teased the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been torturing my enforcer for weeks, doll,” Bucky murmured, a hint of teasing in his tone. “Whaddya say we put him out of his misery?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to point out that you’d offered to put Steve out of his misery before Bucky had made himself known—and the enforcer had refused your advances. How tortured could he possibly be if he’d turned you down? 

But you didn’t say any of that, you just let Bucky guide you backward, watching Steve trail after the two of you, his eyes on your body, like he was entranced by the sight of so much of your skin on display for him.

Bucky’s hands were on your hips, leading you deeper into the room and away from the door. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted a wall of books, all of them looking old and priceless. When Bucky bumped into an antique sofa, he sank down into the sumptuous seat, pulling you into his lap. 

Your ass pressed flush against the hard bulge of Bucky’s cock in his pants, and you shot him an unamused look over your shoulder, but he wasn’t paying attention to you. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure why you weren’t fighting back, only that you’d abandoned trying to form an escape plan. You were curious where things were headed with Bucky and Steve—and hopeful that you be able to have some fun before you fulfilled your mission.

Focusing back on the men, you watched as Bucky gestured for Steve to come forward, until the enforcer was standing right in front of you, practically blocking out the rest of the room and its treasures. But Steve was a treasure unto himself. 

The thick length of his cock jutted against the zipper of his slacks, twitching when your tongue darted out to moisten your lips. You glanced up at Steve, your eyes dragging languidly over his narrow waist and broad shoulders until you met his eyes. 

His face was fixed into a glower, but deep in his gaze, you saw the hunger that had been there earlier, when you’d thought he was about to kiss you. The longer you looked, the easier it was to see the naked yearning in Steve’s pretty blue eyes, and it made you want to nuzzle your cheek against his bulge before paying homage to his gloriousness.

“Go on, doll,” Bucky’s voice, soft and entreating in your ear, compelled you as he leaned forward, urging your face into Steve’s lap until your nose brushed the ridge of the enforcer’s cock through his pants. The hard length gave a responding twitch that made the corner of your mouth curve in a slight smile. “Stevie’s been hard for you since he met you, so why don’t you be a good girl and suck his cock—show us what that mouth can do besides lying.”

A shiver of desire raced down your spine at the rough velvet of Bucky’s voice, and you tipped your head back, your eyes finding Steve as he stared down at you with his own lust written plainly across his handsome face. You wanted to suck his cock so bad, but you hesitated. 

So far, Bucky had been the one pushing you and Steve together, and although the enforcer looked like he wanted you to suck him off, he hadn’t really given you any indication that he was consenting to it. So you waited, your mouth a hairsbreadth away from his hard length, looking up at him with a question in your gaze.

Something in Steve’s expression cracked, and his fingers brushed softly against your cheek, tracing your jaw with one finger while he stroked his thumb along your lower lip. You let your mouth fall open and Steve pushed the tip of his thumb between your lips. You gave him a teasing suckle, the edge of your mouth flickering in a smirk when his eyes darkened, his pupils blowing wide with lust.

“Yeah, sweetheart, let me see what that mouth can do,” Steve rumbled, his voice low and gravelly, as he pulled his hand away from your face. 

As you watched, he shed the jacket of his suit, tossing it onto the back of the sofa, and began rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down. You were fascinated by the way the muscles of his forearms shifted beneath his golden tanned skin, and you watched in rapt attention until Steve’s hand settled on the crown of your head, pushing your face back into his lap.

“Show me how a little thief like you would’ve made it worth my while to betray my boss,” Steve teased roughly, using his grip on your head to drag your parted lips along the length of his cock through the soft fabric of his pants. “Be a good slut and suck my cock—and if you’re any good, maybe I’ll ask Buck to go easy on you.”

At those words, you narrowed your eyes, shooting a glare up at Steve in an effort to show him how unmoved you were by his offer. But then you took a deep breath and all you could smell was Steve. Instantly, you forgot your annoyance. You forgot that the men were playing with you hoping to extract information—you even forgot your entire damn reason for being in that mansion in the first place.

The masculine musk of Steve’s smell invaded your senses, filling your head with cotton candy clouds of lust that pushed out all thoughts other than the man and the cock in front of you. Instinctively, you swayed closer to Steve, pressing your lips against his bulge in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, reveling in the way his dick twitched in response. 

You settled your hands on Steve’s thick thighs, your fingers lightly groping the muscles you could feel beneath his slacks, while you pressed kisses along the length of his cock. Although you could feel him getting harder beneath your ministrations, when you tipped your head back, the enforcer’s expression was hard and unyielding as he stared down at you.

The only indication Steve was at all affected by what you were doing was the blaze of possessive heat in his darkened blue eyes, and the rigid set of his jaw. You could tell that Steve was enjoying your mouth, but you wanted him to come undone, to let loose of that control he held onto with an iron grip.

But before you could set your mind to your task, Bucky reminded you of his presence, his hands grabbing your hips and yanking you deeper into his lap, until the softness of your pussy was pressed against the hard ridge of his cock. You let out a lustful moan, sinking into the sensation while you suckled on the tip of Steve’s thick length, feeling him throb against your lips.

For long moments, you indulged in being pinned between the two men, your mouth worshipping Steve’s cock through his pants while Bucky’s hands explored your mostly naked body. His palms swept down your ribs, groping your hips and guiding you to rock gently in his lap before his hands moved back up your body to cup the swell of your tits. 

Bucky’s mouth kissed along your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin and his tongue soothing over every spot he bit while he learned the curves of your body. His fingers dipped beneath the lace of your bra, teasing over your nipples and playing with them until they were hardened peaks and you were whining helplessly in the mafia boss’s lap.

When Steve was hard and throbbing enough that his precum had left a little wet spot on his pants, he let out an impatient growl, thrusting his hips into your face and shoving the shaft of his cock into your mouth. All you could smell was him, your drool soaking the front of his slacks while you moaned against his bulge.

“Enough teasing, doll,” Bucky rumbled, nipping at the spot on your neck just beneath your ear, the one that turned you liquid in his arms. “Take him out and suck his cock like the good girl we know you are.”

You were so far gone in your lust that you didn’t protest. Your fingers fumbled eagerly at the button and fly of Steve’s pants, undoing them in just a few, breathless seconds. When you shoved his pants down his thighs, along with his navy blue boxer briefs, his thick cock bounced free and nearly hit you in the face.

All you could do was giggle in excitement, your job and the reason for why you couldn’t get close to the two men completely forgotten. All that mattered was getting what you wanted, which in that moment, was a taste of the hot enforcer in front of you.

Taking him in one hand, you dragged your tongue up the underside of Steve’s cock, indulging in the filthy decadence of him straight from the hot, hard source. Your tongue flicked at his tip, lapping up the dribble of precum that had gathered there, and you moaned at the taste of him, so clean and musky and perfect. 

When you opened hazy eyes and looked up at Steve, he looked like a man on the verge of breaking, his eyes so full of greedy lust and his jaw clenched so tight, the muscle in his cheek was popping wildly. It made you want to give him a little push and see if the tension that had his muscles pulling so taut would snap. 

“How’m I doing?” you murmured huskily before pressing a wet, suckling kiss to the tip of Steve’s cock, swirling your tongue around the crown and watching as his eyes darkened even further. “Do you like the feeling of my hot little mouth on your big cock, sir?”

You didn’t think it was possible, but Steve’s jaw clenched tighter, his eyes filled with so much unchecked desire and possessiveness that they looked like a churning, stormy sea. You parted your lips, sucking Steve’s cock into your mouth, and watched him get even closer to losing it. 

Not to be forgotten, Bucky’s hands groped your tits, pushing your bra down until the swells of your breasts popped free. He touched you like he already owned you, his fingers plucking teasingly at your nipples, making you moan around Steve’s shaft.

“Answer our girl, Stevie,” Bucky growled, and you could see him shooting a hard look at his enforcer out of the corner of your eye. “Tell our little thief how good she looks sucking your cock—tell her how good she feels.”

“Fuck,” Steve groaned on a deep exhale. His hands settled on your head, guiding you up and down his cock, pushing his hard length deeper into your mouth with every thrust. “She looks so fucking gorgeous sucking my cock, and she feels like heaven—I could fuck her slutty mouth every goddamned day and never get sick of it.” 

Warm pride and something else, something you were too frightened to try to name, bloomed in your chest and you eagerly sucked on Steve’s cock, wringing another groan from the big man. He responded by shoving your head closer to his lap, until the tip of his dick was bullying the back of your throat, making you gag in surprise. 

“I wanna fuck our little thief’s mouth like the slutty cocksleeve that she is, wanna see her throat bulge from my cock,” Steve rambled, sounding half-feral, half-possessed as the filthy words tumbled off his tongue. “I wanna cum all over our girl’s face and mark her as mine—mark her as ours. Our fuck toy, our perfect set of holes.” 

You couldn’t help it, your eyes rolled back in your head and you let out a loud moan at Steve’s words, at the way he’d finally lost control and was fucking your mouth like you were nothing more than his toy to use. It was all you could do to brace your hands on his muscular thighs and try not to gag while the enforcer worked his cock deeper and deeper into your throat.

“That’s fucking right, use our girl, Stevie,” Bucky crowed, cheering his friend on while he kept groping and playing with your tits. One of his hands slid down your body, cupping your pussy through your panties, and pressing his fingers into the wet fabric at the seam of your sex. “She’s our good girl, isn’t that right, doll?” 

Pleasure and sensation made your mind go blank, until you were nothing more than a creature of lust, focused entirely on giving Steve the satisfaction he sought in your mouth and getting yours from Bucky’s fingers. You rocked your hips, humping Bucky’s hand while you sucked eagerly on Steve’s cock, feeling him beginning to throb in your mouth as your pussy pulsed and fluttered, both of you getting close.

You were right on the precipice of coming, and could feel that Steve was as well, when Bucky pulled his hand from between your thighs, pushing them wide across his lap and tugging your head off his enforcer’s cock. For a moment, you sat stunned in Bucky’s lap, panting and wondering what the hell had just happened. 

The frenzied beating of your heart slowed and you focused on the sight in front of you, Steve’s big hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing the hard length so tight, his knuckles were turning white. The flushed tip of his dick was so red and angry, you tried to sit forward and lick it better, but Bucky’s arm banded around your waist, holding you pinned to his lap.

“Tell us what we want to know, pretty doll,” Bucky murmured silkily in your ear, his hands soothing over your body, though they didn’t touch you anywhere you wanted them—your tits or between your thighs. “What are you here to steal? Who are you working for?”

It finally hit you what was happening, how Bucky had let you get close to your release only to yank it away at the last second. Your body throbbed with unslaked pleasure and a sob bubbled up in your chest. You had to bite your lip hard to keep it from spilling free. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

You’d been such a good girl for them, you’d done everything they asked, but you couldn’t give them this. You couldn’t tell them about the mess you were in, you couldn’t trust them—no matter how much a part of you wanted to. It was there, like a niggling thorn stuck between your ribs, the desire to trust them with the truth, but you ignored it.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you shook your head in refusal of Bucky’s questions, fear and anxiety swirling uneasily in your stomach. It wasn’t until Steve cupped your face with his free hand, his thumb stroking over your cheek, that you realized a few tears had escaped without you noticing.

“You’re even prettier when you cry, sweetheart,” Steve said softly, his voice so sweet it took you a moment to understand his words. When you did, you tried to pull away, but Steve’s hand gripped your face tightly, his blue eyes burning with a possessiveness that nearly stole your breath. “Answer Buck’s questions and we’ll fuck you so good, baby, we’ll make you cry so prettily on both our cocks.”

A shiver of want raced down your spine and you trembled in Bucky’s lap, your eyes falling miserably away from Steve’s face as emotions swirled turbulently in your chest and stomach. “I can’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you curled in on yourself, making your body as small as possible.

All the while, your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out of your predicament. Your employer wouldn’t suffer failure, and if you didn’t return to him with the diamond he’d commanded you steal, it could have deadly consequences. But you were so thoroughly trapped by Bucky and Steve, and even if you were able to get away from them, they’d destroyed your dress, which made escaping the mansion without being seen even more difficult.

Behind you, Bucky huffed out a sound like a bitten off sigh and wrapped his arms around your body, holding you in a tight hug while he gently nuzzled his cheek against yours. The rough stubble of his scruff soothed some of your anxiety away, enough that you could focus back on the moment, back on the two men who were staring at you with something like concern in their eyes.

“Are you afraid of us—afraid we’ll be upset with you,” Bucky began, his voice rumbling in his chest and teasing down your spine where he was pressed flush against your back. “Or the person who hired you?”

Your heart gave a pathetic lurch in your chest at the gentleness in Bucky’s voice, and in the watchful look in Steve’s eye as he crouched down in front of you, so his face was level with yours. The enforcer’s hand cupped your cheek almost tenderly, and his eyes stared deep into your own, like he was imploring you to answer.

“If I tell you, he’ll kill me,” you whispered, your eyes avoiding Steve’s face as you hurried on to explain the mess you were in that had led you to infiltrating the mob boss’s party in an attempt to steal from him. “And not just me—he has my father.”

Both Bucky and Steve let out harsh breaths, and when you glanced up at the man in front of you, you found him looking at his boss over your shoulder. The two of them were having a wordless conversation that you couldn’t even begin to decipher, so you simply waited for them to be done.

“We can protect you,” Bucky murmured a moment later, his arms settling more securely around your body until he held you in the tightest hug you’d ever felt. It felt so good, so safe, you nearly sobbed. “Steve and I will make sure nothing happens to you or your father. Right, Stevie?”

“Right,” Steve confirmed, his expression and tone so resolute, you had no choice but to believe him. The calm, stoic enforcer was back, but his eyes were still stormy, still simmering with emotion—all of it for you. “We’ll keep you safe, but you need to tell us what’s going on.”

Steve looked so earnest, so ready to step in and save the day, that it overwhelmed you. It was too much to hope that he was being honest, that he really could save you from your predicament. You had to close your eyes to think. But even then, you still felt Bucky’s steady, strong presence wrapped around your body, holding you while you trembled with indecision.

In the life of a thief, it was imperative that you only rely on the right people. In your life, you’d learned the hard way that it was better if you didn’t rely on anyone at all. Your father, the man who was supposed to protect you above all others, had instead offered you up as the solution to his problems. He’d been in debt to your employer and had promised your skills to repay those debts.

It didn’t seem to matter to your father that you’d be killed along with him if you were unsuccessful, and unfortunately for you, you weren’t as unfeeling. For all his poor decisions, he was still your dad and you didn’t want to see him killed. 

For a brief, blistering moment, you wished the night had gone to plan and you’d been able to sneak in, steal the diamond and get back to your employer to free your father from him. But that’s not how things had worked out, and now your only option was to trust the men you’d planned to steal from. They were your only hope.

“Tony Stark hired me to steal the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë,” you murmured, your eyes still closed so you didn’t have to see Bucky or Steve’s reactions to your confession. “If I don’t bring it to him tonight, he’ll kill my father and then me.”

The men were quiet for a moment, long enough that you finally gathered the courage to open your eyes, finding them both staring at you, their expressions filled with a tender kind of sympathy. Before you could scoff at their pity, Steve broke the silence, his voice ragged with emotion.

“We won’t let that happen, sweetheart,” he vowed, catching your eye and staring deep into your soul. It was hard to believe him, but he sounded so genuine, how could you not?

“Make the call,” Bucky ordered from behind you, talking to his enforcer while his arms tightened around your body. His hold was the same reassurance Steve had given you, and you relaxed slightly into it.

But before Steve followed his boss’s command, he shocked the hell out of you by leaning forward, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss. Sparks danced inside your head at the soft press of the enforcer’s mouth, and you sucked in a gasp that allowed Steve to lick between your lips. He kissed you gently, teasingly, an unspoken promise on his tongue.

When Steve finally pulled away, you were too dazed by the kiss to pay much attention to him standing up and pacing away from the sofa where you and Bucky sat, pulling a cellphone from his pants pocket and pressing it to his ear. He spoke in low tones you couldn’t make out, not that you would’ve been able to understand whatever orders he was issuing when you were still stunned by his kiss.

Bucky leaned back into the sofa, drawing you deeper into his lap and turning you slightly. His eyes roamed freely over your features as he tipped your face toward him so he could look into your eyes. The mob boss chuckled lightly at the surprised expression still on your face, tracing his thumb idly along your plump lower lip.

“Seems you’ve won over my best enforcer, doll,” Bucky murmured, his tone lightly teasing as he gently coaxed you back down to earth. “I guess I have no choice but to keep you now.” Bucky ducked down until his mouth hovered a mere fraction of an inch from yours. “Steve has been telling me it’s past time to find a wife—and I like you far more than I should, little thief.”

With that pronouncement, Bucky closed the gap between your lips, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. In contrast to Steve’s gentleness, Bucky was demanding, licking into your mouth and stroking his tongue against yours, making your mind melt and your body go suddenly hot with renewed desire. 

You turned more on Bucky’s lap, grabbing onto his shoulders so that you could kiss him back. Despite how small you’d made yourself a moment ago, you weren’t some wilting flower who needed to be handled like you were breakable. You were the best damn thief in the world, and you wanted Bucky just as much as he clearly wanted you.

The kiss turned hotter and heavier when you pressed your body into Bucky’s, your tits crushed against his chest and your ass wiggling against his hard bulge. Liquid lust pooled low in you belly, and you gasped in delight when Bucky’s rough hand slid up your thigh. 

He’d almost reached your pussy when a polite cough interrupted your moment. Bucky ended the kiss with a groan, and turned his attention to his enforcer, whose blue eyes sharpened on your kiss-swollen lips for a moment before he shook his head and focused back on his boss.

“We’ve located your father,” Steve said, meeting your eyes with his calm gaze. “He’ll be at one of our safe houses within the hour. I’ve also doubled security here and the partygoers are being sent home. You’ll be safe in the mansion while we figure out how to deal with Stark.”

“Good,” Bucky answered before you could thank Steve. Your head was still spinning from both their kisses and it was taking more effort than usual to follow the conversation. “And you called in the underbosses?”

Steve gave a quick nod. “They’re all coming in,” the enforcer confirmed. “They’ll be assembled here by tomorrow afternoon.”

The two men continued to talk about specifics, but you were distracted by the revived desire thrumming through your body. Your gaze traveled lazily down Steve’s body, finding that he’d pulled up his pants and boxer briefs, but hadn’t zipped himself up, so his cock was tenting the navy blue cotton in a particularly enticing manner. 

“Then there’s just the matter of dealing with our little thief,” Bucky was saying, and at the mention of you, you tuned back into the conversation, glancing first at the mafia boss and then his enforcer. Both were watching you closely, lust and a feral kind of possessiveness in their eyes, though Bucky wore a charming smirk while Steve’s expression was more like a glower.

“What, me?” you asked as innocently as you could manage—which wasn’t innocent at all, the breathless excitement in your tone making you sound like an eager slut. You tossed your head and sat up primly on Bucky’s lap, giving each man a haughty look before continuing. “You could deal with me by finally making me cum, if you boys are up to the task, of course.”

Steve growled at the obvious challenge in your words while Bucky just chuckled. The mob boss manhandled you on his lap until you were facing away from him again, your legs thrown over his thighs as you perched on his knees. He gently pushed your upper body toward Steve, and you didn’t need any more encouragement than that to tug down the enforcer’s briefs so you could pick up where you’d left off.

In the time it had taken Steve to make his calls, his cock had softened slightly, so you pressed suckling kisses up and down his shaft, delighting in the feel of him hardening against your mouth. Behind you, you felt Bucky working his pants open, and you moaned when you felt his cock spring free, slapping your ass with its thick, heavy length.

“Ready to take both our cocks, little thief?” Bucky murmured, tugging your panties to the side and sliding the tip of his cock along the seam of your pussy. You were already wet for him, but you felt even more desire leak from your hole at the teasing slide of his tip between your folds. “You gonna be a good girl for us, doll?”

“Ye-es,” you moaned brokenly against the crown of Steve’s dick, licking greedily at the precum dripping onto your lips. “Want your cock, boss,” you murmured dreamily, your eyes flicking up to find Steve’s expression twisted into something feral as he watched you. “Want you to fuck me, sir—use my holes, make me your slut, make me cum, please.”

When Bucky chuckled, the sound was strained, and your heart warmed with pride at how much you were affecting the mafia boss. You rolled your hips, pressing your pussy against the tip of Bucky’s dick, making him suck in a sharp breath as your warm, wet hole teased his sensitive cock. 

“You heard our girl, Stevie,” Bucky rumbled, his hands grabbing your hips and lifting you up. You reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his thick length to guide him into your pussy. At the same time, you opened your mouth wide, letting Steve feed his cock into your mouth. “Don’t hold back—fuck her like the filthy slut she is.”

“You got it, boss,” Steve ground out through clenched teeth, his hips stuttering and his cock twitching as you swirled your tongue along the underside of his thick cock. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he said, his voice roughly tender as he grabbed your head in a firm grip. 

Then both men were thrusting deep into your body, Steve’s cock hitting the back of your throat while Bucky bottomed out in your cunt. They groaned loudly, pausing for only a second to revel in the heat and wetness of your holes before they began moving, pounding into you from both ends.

“Take it, fucking take my cock like a good fucktoy, sweetheart,” Steve growled, driving deeper and deeper into your mouth while you tried not to gag, but that only seemed to make him go rougher. “Wanna see you cry while you choke on my cock, little thief. Let me see those pretty tears, crybaby, c’mon.”

Something cracked open inside you, and you let go, giving in to Steve completely. You sobbed around his cock, drool dripping messily from your lips as you choked on his pounding girth. Tears streamed from your eyes and Steve let out an indecently hot moan, his cock throbbing against your tongue while he fucked your mouth harder, bullying deeper into your throat with each thrust.

“You feel so fucking good, pretty girl,” Bucky rumbled from behind you, pressing his clothed chest flush against your back, the heat of him surrounding you as he wrapped you up in his arms. The mob boss rocked his hips against your ass, fucking you hard and deep with his cock while his hands played with your tits. “You’re taking us both so well, like you were made for us—our perfect, precious girl.”

Bucky’s praise had you crying out around Steve’s cock, pleasure swirling through your body until you were overwhelmed with the thrilling sensation. Then one of Bucky’s hands slipped down between your thighs, his fingers strumming your clit in rough strokes that had your thighs shaking in seconds, your pussy fluttering around his dick as you surged closer to the edge of your release. 

“You gonna cum on our cocks, pretty doll?” the mob boss murmured entreatingly in your ear, pressing kisses to the heated skin of your neck. “Gonna be a good girl for us and cum all over our cocks while we use your body like our own personal toy, huh?”

“Our good girl,” Steve growled, holding your head and using your mouth like it was a fleshlight. “Ours—all fucking ours.” 

It was too much. Their thick cocks, their possessive words, their greedy hands on your body—you were lost to the overwhelming pleasure of it all, and you came harder than you ever had in your entire life. A strangled scream spilled from your lips, every muscle in your body pulling taut as you broke apart into a million stars of ecstasy, pleasure crashing through your body in devastating waves.

Your release spurred on both Bucky and Steve, who fucked you harder, rutting into your holes like men possessed. They followed you over the edge a few moments later, Bucky sinking his teeth into the tender flesh at the base of your neck, where it met your shoulder, and groaning against your skin while he emptied his balls in your cunt.

At the same time, Steve pulled free from your mouth, his fist pumping his cock until his cum erupted. With a loud, feral groan, he coated your face and tits with his cum, ropes of his release falling onto your skin in heated evidence of his possessiveness. 

The big enforcer moaned lewdly, his eyes dark as a stormy night while he watched his thick cream cover your tear-stained face. Your lips curved into a blissed out smile as you felt the warmth of Steve’s cum on your skin, waiting patiently while he pumped his shaft and painted your mouth with the last drops of his seed.

When he was spent, Steve cupped your cheek in his big hand, rubbing his sticky cum into your skin while you licked it from your lips, moaning softly at the musky taste of him. You’d never felt so degraded and exalted at the same time, and you thought, distractedly, that you could get used to this.

“Pretty as a picture, baby,” Steve murmured, staring at you like he’d never get tired of the sight of you covered in his cum. Your heart thumped happily in your chest and you grinned sweetly up at him, your pussy pulsing around Bucky’s cock, making him groan lightly. 

The mob boss was busy kissing the spot on your shoulder where he’d bitten you, soothing the slight sting with his lips and tongue. Your hips twitched, feeling Bucky’s cum leaking out around his softening cock, and you luxuriated in the filthiness of the moment, being full and coated with both men’s cum. 

“So, how about it, little thief, are you going to let us keep you?” Bucky asked in a ragged voice, his arms holding you tight while Steve retrieved a handkerchief from his suit jacket and began to clean your face. 

Closing your eyes, you gave a soft sigh and let Steve and Bucky take care of you while you thought about the question. 

In the life of a thief, it was important to recognize a precious opportunity when it presented itself—and Bucky’s offer was exactly that. 

You’d known from the moment you met Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes that they were different than any other marks you’d stolen from. They were men you could see yourself falling for, which was why you’d been so off your game on this job. They were men you could see yourself spending your life with, if only you agreed to stay with them.

It didn’t take much thinking to realize you’d be a fool to pass up the life and the safety Bucky and Steve were offering. They clearly cared about you, and you cared about them. So you followed your instincts and nodded your head, opening your eyes to meet first Steve’s gaze, then Bucky’s. 

“Yes,” you said simply, answering the mafia boss’s question. And then, because you were you, you couldn’t help but add primly, “And I expect my men to take good care of me.” 

Bucky huffed a laugh into your neck, and even Steve cracked a smirk, sinking down onto the sofa beside his boss so the two of them could hold you. The mafia boss captured your lips in a kiss, responding to your bratty comment with a promise, before he pulled back and allowed his enforcer to seal your agreement with a kiss of his own. 

When the three of you had recovered enough, Bucky helped you to stand and Steve draped his suit jacket around your shoulders. They led you up to the mansion’s master suite, where they continued to have their way with you for the rest of the evening.

It wasn’t until the sun began to peak out over the horizon that you finally fell asleep, entwined in the arms of the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcer. You were safe, content, and fully satisfied with how your night had turned out, even if it hadn’t gone to plan. 

After that evening, Bucky and Steve made good on their promise to protect you, moving against Tony Stark and ensuring the leader of the Manhattan mafia knew you belonged to Brooklyn’s crime boss. They also ensured your father was taken care of, and wouldn’t get himself into trouble again.

With your men seeing to your every whim, you were able to retire from being a thief. But you still used your skills for fun sometimes. 

Every once in a while, you played the part of their little thief, attempting to steal from Steve and/or Bucky and letting yourself get caught so that they could punish you how they saw fit. Occasionally, Steve would let you convince him to betray his boss, until Bucky caught the two of you and punished you both. 

But no matter what, you always ended up entwined with both the mafia boss Bucky Barnes and his most trusted enforcer, Steve Rogers, happy and loved in their arms. All told, it was a much better existence than the life of a thief. 

you could see where the flesh fused with the metal on the back of their shoulder, but the black and gold burned itself into your mind, thinking about other ways it could be used.

as you wrapped yourself in a towel, you were faced towards your mirror and you were able to see the reflection of the house. the person looked over their shoulder, and there you were faced with a man who was so handsome you dropped your towel on accident. or was it on purpose?

you’d say on accident just because of the way his face changed from mischief to shocked, standing up straighter and even turning to get a better look.

there were some days where you didn’t see him, and it wasn’t that you were upset, of course not he had his own life. hell he could be married for all you knew. but the excitement of teasing each other like this got to you. and you always looked forward to it.

then, one morning as you walked into your bathroom one morning you happened to look out of your opened blinds, just enough to look out of and you saw him.

only his back wasn’t facing you, his front was. and that man was nude. you weren’t sure what he was into, but whatever he was doing you were into it. it didn’t bother you in the slightest that you would go nude for this man with surrounding houses, risking the fact that someone other than him could see you. it didn’t bother you at all. in fact, it turned you on knowing someone other than him could be watching.

you watched as you opened the blinds all the way, his hand grabbing his hard cock and his other hand on the window, head dipped down and breathing heavily. he was hung, thick cock all the way around, thick thighs to match, and the way his body moved as he stroked his cock. sticking out his tongue, you saw a string of spit leave his mouth and land on his shaft, using it to jerk himself off more. and you could’ve sworn you were going to cum just at the sight of it.

you shuffled on your feet, blush creeping up on your cheeks as you took the tie to your robe and let it loose, the silk fabric falling to the floor.

as soon as it hit the floor he looked up, and his eyes went wide. you could see him mouth a small “fuck” at the sight of you, his hand never stopping movements of jerking his cock as you went to play with your breasts. you smirked, tweaking the nipple as he stood up straighter, squaring out his shoulders as his eyes never left your body and his hand sped up, thumb rubbing over his slit on his cock. you felt damp in between your thighs and so desperately wanted to touch yourself but you weren’t sure if this was a mutual masturbation or not.

all you knew was that you would do anything to feel his hands over your breasts in place of yours, his hands roaming all over your body instead of just glued to his. you bit your lip as your hand trailed down your stomach towards your clit, and you swore you could hear him perfectly say “go ahead, baby” as you watched his lips move. you bit your lip and spread your pussy lips open, just enough for him to see before you played with your clit, letting out soft moans.

bucky was being tortured. seeing you, naked in your window playing with yourself while he jerked his cock. he wanted to run his lips down your body to your cunt, your pretty little cunt you were playing with, tweaking those perfect nipples on your breasts that he so wanted to have in his mouth.

he couldn’t think of anything else as he sped his hand up as he fucked himself into his hand, feeling his balls tightened as you left your mouth agape when he watched you push two fingers into your cunt.

“shit.” he hated the fact that he couldn’t be the one making you feel good, wanting to feel how warm you were around his cock and those pretty little moans he could only imagine. he didn’t dare rip his eyes away from you as you sped your hand up, his hand matching your movements as he felt his orgasm approaching. he didn’t want to hold out on you, watching your thumb play with your clit and your thighs started to tense and he could tell you were close.

he watched as you bit your lip, thrusting your fingers into your cunt until your body jerked and you stilled, cumming down your own hand. he was so damn close he wanted to finish with you. he jumped as he heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“dad! peter drank all the juice again!” he gripped his cock tight as he cursed, looking at you as you met his gaze smiling softly and blowing a kiss.

he couldn’t help but smile back, letting go of his hard cock that stood straight.

“be out in a second, punk!” only his kids knew how to ruin a moment.

***

it had been about a week since you and your neighbor had that little.. thing. you hadn’t seen him since and you were definitely in your head about it.

did he think you were weird for cumming in front of him? touching yourself like that? was it supposed to just be a private moment you creepily snooped out on? you weren’t sure, and there was no was you’d go over for some answers. you were not prepared for that.

you went out to check the mail, and upon opening it you saw a little envelope in it with the words “pretty neighbor” in a cursive-ish hand writing. taking the mail you quickly walked back inside and upstairs into your bedroom, opening the envelope.

“sorry for the other day. might i say you are gorgeous as fuck. however my kids ruined a moment i had to myself. been busy all week but i have not been able to stop thinking about you. text me sometime

xo the neighbor who made you cum

you blushed ten different shades of red as you read the note, seeing his number scribbled out on the bottom of the page. you took your phone and tossed the idea of reaching out now, but re reading you didn’t want to take time away from him and his kids.

fuck, he really was a dilf.

you sucked in a breath and put his number in your phone, shooting him a text

to: dilf 🥵

hey, pretty neighbor here. just got your letter

you let out a breath and set your phone down. you felt like a child with a crush on the new boy in class and you didn’t know how to handle it. of course you had a crush on this man, he was built like the gods specially made him for you because if anything he was your type, there was no denying that. a vibration from your phone knocked you out of your thoughts as you saw he repsonded

from: dilf 🥵

thank god you didn’t think i was some creep sending that. wasn’t sure if you’d get it or not.

to: dilf 🥵

course i did, think you deserve to get off though. you alone?

you bit your lip as you sent your text, walking up to the bathroom and closing the door, thankful you lived alone. as you sat on the side of the tub, your phone rang, and the caller id was him. you smirked to yourself as you raised the phone to your ear and answered it.

“hello?” you spoke softly, wondering how the voice on the other end was going to sound. what you didn’t expect was for your panties to get drenched by the sound of his voice the second he spoke to you.

“hey, pretty neighbor.” his voice was low, a smirk could be heard in the tone of his voice and it went right to your cunt. it was dusk as you opened your blinds, seeing him standing there with a smirk on his face and his shorts hung low on his hips. he was holding the phone with his flesh hand to his ear, and his eyes were trained on you as soon as you revealed yourself.

“kids out for the night?”

“at their uncles for the weekend.” he nodded, licking his lower lip. you couldn’t deny how bad you wanted to just put your lips on his and devour him.

“so..” you said softly, your hand going to toy with your tank top strap as you had on small shorts. his eyes looked over your figure, speaking softly.

“strip, pretty thing.” you felt as if you couldn’t say no to him, as you took your phone off your ear and on the side of the tub on speaker, going back to the window and shuffling your shorts and panties off, keeping eye contact with him. you could see his cock grow hard in his shorts as soon as you took your top off, not that it matter because the small material left enough room for the imagination anyways.

“like that?” he nodded, pushing his shorts down and you saw him set his phone down to the side, his metal hand grabbing his cock and slowly started to jerk off.

“look at you, so fuckin’ pretty. what i would give to feel your skin on mine.” you sighed softly as you ran your fingers over your skin, playing with your breasts, tweaking the nipple as he watched. you heard him groan over the phone as your fingers inched closer to your clit before he spoke.

“hold on, angel. not so fast. open that pretty mouth of yours, suck on those fingers as if they were mine.” you let out a soft whine as he spoke, feeling your slick down the inside of your thighs as you obeyed, pushing your middle and ring finger into your mouth and encasing your lips around them, sucking on them softly as spit ran down your wrist.

his hand kept his movements on his cock, spreading the pre cum that left the tip over his shaft. his posture never faltered as he watched you, biting his lower lip and groaning as you made noises sucking on your fingers.

“that’s it baby, listen so well, don’t you? such a good slut for me.” as you sucked on your fingers, your other hand kept toying with your nipples, watching his hungry eyes rake over your figure from you’re breasts to your cunt right to your face and back over. it was something you could describe knowing only he could see you but the possibility of someone else seeing you made you even more wet.

“go on baby, push those two soaked fingers into that fight pussy of yours, imagine they are mine. bet you wont feel as full though, huh sunflower?” you could only nod, whining as you propped a leg up on the window sill for him to see your exposed pussy, pushing your fingers in and letting out a soft moan. he was right, your fingers could never satisfy you the way you knew his could.

“fuck..” you let out a soft moan as you pumped your fingers in and out of your cunt, a sharp inhale was heard by him as he watched you and he couldn’t help but watch with awe as you got yourself off in front of him.

“you like knowin’ others could see that pretty cunt on display? your fingers stuffed so deep and havin’ you moaning?” you nodded as you whipped your head back up, eyes meeting his.

“only want your eyes on my cunt. only you.” he let out a groan as you spoke, knowing that you ruined every person for him and he ruined ever man for you. you couldn’t stop daydreaming about anyone else’s cock excoet him stuffing you full, your mouth wrapped around his cock and how it would feel him driving himself into you.

“what are you thinking about baby?”

“thinking about you fucking me, your cock. want it so bad.” he chuckled as he watched you, a hand on the window as he opened his legs wider and fisted his cock faster.

“been thinking about your cunt, pretty thing, how tight it would feel ‘round my cock, milking me so good, so fucking warm and wet. god and that mouth, had to daydream what you’d sound like makin those pretty little noises but now i don’t have to. you sound fucking divine.” you moaned in response as you went to play with your clit, opening your legs wider for him to see. his hand gripped his cock harder as he spit on his shaft, using it to jerk himself off quicker as he watched you.

“wanna be in between those thighs so bad, sunflower. bet you taste as sweet as you look.” the sounds of him fisting himself matched perfectly with the sound of your fingers fucking your cunt, and it made you close to the edge.

“i’m close.. fuck.” he chuckled softly and moaned in response as he pulled on his cock a little as he jerked it, mumbling curse words.

“me too, shit. wish i could be filling you up, look so pretty with my cum leakin’ out of ya.” you let out a filthy moan as he spoke, and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you? god, have to get my hands on you this weekend.” as he spoke you felt the coil in your belly tightened until it snapped, leaning onto the wall as you greedily rubbed your clit to get through your orgasm, huffs and puffs from him over the phone as he let out a choked moan chasing his own high as he came.

“oh god..” as he chased his own high you couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued to his as you took your hands out of your cunt and put them in your mouth, sucking them clean. you moaned at the taste of your arousal on your fingers and he moaned as he watched you.

“i’m as sweet as i look.. you should come over and have a taste, neighbor.” he groaned as he watched you, pulling his shorts back up and tossing on a t-shirt.