Ten year old Harry Potter was running back home one summer Sunday afternoon , after visiting his best mate Ron and playing a long game of quidditch before tomorrows quidditch world semi final where Regulus Black his favorite player would play
You see ever since Ron showed quidditch to Harry he has always had a fascination with the French Banchory seeker, Harry doesnât know if it is because of his fantastic flying skills or what but he feels drawn to the player
Even tho Harry comes from a wizard family, quidditch wasnât allowed in their household the even mention of the gam le had his father in a sour mood. His uncle Padfoot once told him that his father was a great player in his hogwarts days, and his uncle Moony once tried to gift Harry a shirt of the chudley cannons which his father immediately transfigured it into cups
His mothers on the other hand didnât mind the sport at all. His mum Lily gave him his first broom over the summer break and allowed him to use it in her home, while his mother Mary gave him some Banchory jumpers that he only uses with them of course he wouldnât want his dad to have a fit
This Summer he was supposed to stay with his mothers so he could watch the game but they had to go to Scotland to meet some friends and his dad didnât allowed him to go, so Harry was stuck lying to his father about studying with Ron just so he could see the quidditch World Cup
He could have gone to his godfathers home to see the game but they also had to go to Scotland, but uncle Moony promised to bring Harry a surprise so he wasnât as upset
As Harry arrived home he saw his father in the lawn with a telescope, his father always loved looking at the stars and he showed Harry every constellation there is. His uncle padfoot would laugh every time he saw his dad looking at the Leo constellation and told him he should just man up. Which always left poor Harry so confuse but knew that if he asked his father would get teary eyed and he didnât like seeing his dad upset
James saw Harry and instantly smiled giving him a tight hug and a kiss on his head
âHow did it go with Ron, Bambi?â
âWe learned today about some potions, Percy helped us with the mixingâ Harry knew it was a lie, he hated potions to begin with. But he would not confess all they did was play quidditch, and that Harry won every round and has caught the snitch a variety of times
James smiled however and ruffled Harryâs hair
âYou are as smart as your mothers, you know your mum was great at potions. I bet thatâs were you get it fromâ
Harry sucked at potions.
âY-yeah of course, what are you doing out dad?â Harry smiled and quickly changed the subject
âOhâŠLeo is out today or em it wasâŠit seemed to fade away..â James sighed ââŠagainâ
Harry hugged his dad and smiled up at him
âThat is okay you can always see it tomorrowâ
James smiled and lifted Harry into his arms
âYou are correct bambi, now how about you wash up and I will get supper going. I am thinking maybe curry shrimps tonight?â
âYESSSSâ
James places Harry down when they entered the house and he immediately went towards the kitchen
Harry on the other hand went upstairs to bathe, but he saw the attic door open. Which always was closed and he was forbidden from entering
But Harry was curious child and he wouldnât let this opportunity pass
So he quickly went in and there he saw a huge box opened with dozens of letters and pictures, as he got closer he noticed that in those pictures there were his mothers and beside them there was his father with his arm wrapped around someone that someone had grey eyes and black hair, he had a hand on his dads cheek and as Harry analyzed the picture better he noticed that the person beside his father wasâŠ.Regulus Black
Harry gasped and quickly rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing clearly there was no way his dad that hates quidditch knew the quidditch god himself
He turned to look at the letters in the box and quickly grabbed one, they were in cursive writing. And well Harry couldnât read cursiveâŠ.but Ron could do he knew that he needed to show Ron this
Harry only understood that the letter was addressed to Regulus Black by his fatherâŠwhich meant that all this letters were never sent
Harry quickly grabbed some and hid them under his mattress, before going to shower but he couldnât stop thinking about it and he couldnât stop feeling anxious
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summary : You tutor failing football gods Steve and Bucky through calculus disasters, only for a spilled-water accident to ignite weeks of filthy tension.
word count : 13,1k
warnings 18+ : college au, no use of y/n, jocks!steve & bucky, reader is inexperienced, explicit sexual content, protected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral (f & m recieving), squirting, threesome, praise, slight degradation, party drinking, shots (no intoxication beyond buzz), risk of being caught
đȘđŸđœđ±đžđ»'đŒ đ·đžđœđź : AHHH!! these two have me absolutely wrecked, the amount of times I rewrote this is lowkey embarrassing đ ANYWAYYY buckle up for steve & bucky being stupidly whipped and enough filth to fog your glasses. enjoy the ride <33
masterpost | lesson 02
Another soul-crushing afternoon in the shoebox you share with Natasha. Youâre wedged between a leaning tower of bio textbooks and a graveyard of empty cold-brew cans, highlighter caps chewed to nubs, neon streaks smeared across your knuckles like war paint.
Your laptop teeters on a pillow fortress atop your thighs; the cursor blinks accusingly in a half-finished lab report on mitochondrial apoptosis. One more distraction and youâll miss the deadline, again.
Ping.
An email. [email protected]. The subject line glows red: URGENT â Academic Probation Tutoring.
You snort. Athletics? You once got lost in the gym trying to find the vending machine. Still, curiosity wins. You click.
Subject: URGENT â Academic Probation Tutoring
Good evening, We have an offer for a qualified peer tutor. Two students in critical need:
âą Rogers, Steven G. â Calculus II (F) / Chemistry I (D-)
âą Barnes, James B. â Calculus II (F) / Chemistry I (F)
Requirements: 2 sessions/week minimum. $22/hr. Full scholarship bonus if both pass midterms. Reply ASAP. Thank you.
Your stomach does a triple axel. Steve Rogers. James Barnes.
Youâve seen them on the Jumbotron: Steve, the golden-boy quarterback, launching a 60-yard spiral like itâs a Nerf dart; James or Bucky, as they call him, the cocky wide receiver, diving horizontal for a one-handed grab that defies physics. Both shirtless and dripping with sweat that the entire campus has memorized.
Theyâre not students. Theyâre campus gods in shoulder pads.
The door slams open. Natasha, red hair twisted into a messy knot, black sports bra and leggings like she just stepped out of hot yoga, struts in with an iced matcha in hand. She catches your expression and smirks.
âSomeone died, or did you just fail a pop quiz in your head again?â
You shove the laptop toward her. âRead.â
She scans, eyes widening with theatrical glee. âHoly shit. Youâre going to be tutoring Rogers and Barnes? The same duo who bench-press freshmen for fun?â
âTheyâre failing calc,â you hiss. âAnd chem. Both Fs.â
Natasha whistles low. âThatâs not failing. Thatâs killing your grades on purpose.â
She flops onto your bed, propping her feet on your open textbook. âPay?â
âTwenty-two an hour. Scholarship bonus if they pass midterms.â
âDayum.â She sips her matcha, eyeing you like prey. âThatâs rent, textbooks, and the fancy microscope youâve been drooling over in the bio catalog. Do it.â
You chew your thumbnail.
âTheyâre⊠them. Iâm-â You gesture at your soft cardigan, your frizzy ponytail, the highlighter stains. âIâm a walking library fine.â
Natasha snorts. âPlease. Youâre a 4.0 nerdy goddess who color-codes her panic attacks. They need you.â
She leans in, voice dropping to a sneaky purr. âAlso? Those boys eat nerds for breakfast. And you, my sweet, innocent lab rat, are about to be served.â
Your face combusts. âNat!â
âWhat? Iâm just saying, Steve Rogers has forearms that could crush walnuts. And Bucky? That manâs smirk could impregnate half the sorority row.â
She wiggles her brows. âPicture it, two full hours a week, pressed up close and personal. Finally gonna get your hands on some real, thick, sweaty biceps⊠instead of that limp-noodle disappointment your shitty ex called arms.â
You groan, burying your face in your hands. âWhat if theyâre mean? What if they laugh at my flashcards? What if they see me and go, âWho let the librarian in?â What if they donât show up? What if they do show up and I forget how to speak? What if-â
Natasha yanks your hands down. âBreathe, nerd. Youâre spiraling harder than a bad PCR cycle.â She spins your laptop, already typing.
Subject: Re: URGENT â Academic Probation Tutoring Available Tuesdays/Thursdays, 4 to 6 pm, Library Study Room 3B.
Her finger hovers over send. âLast chance to chicken out and live in poverty forever.â
Your heart jackhammers.
What if theyâre everything the rumors say, cocky, cruel, unattainable?
What if youre just the punchline?
Natasha smirks. âOr⊠what if you walk in there, own the room, and make them nervous for once?â
You swallow. âDo it.â
Send.
The confirmation email pings instantly. Natasha whoops, tossing you a victory fist-bump. âOperation: Tutor the Campus Gods is live. Iâm claiming all the tea. You owe me play-by-play.â
You collapse back into your pillow fortress, pulse racing, Steveâs future letterman jacket already haunting your imagination.
Tuesday. 4 pm Study Room 3B. God help you.
Youâre fifteen minutes early, because punctuality is your love language, anxiety is your native tongue. Study Room 3B smells like stale coffee, dry-erase markers, and the ghost of someoneâs tuna sandwich.
Your cardigan is buttoned all the way up, the top button practically begging for mercy. Every time you lean forward over the laptop to triple-check the chain rule, your glasses slip a little farther down your nose.
The pleated skirt sits warm against your skin, but itâs the soft cotton thigh-highs that keep catching your attention; those long, cozy socks that stop a couple inches below the hem. Every few minutes you reach down, fingers hooking under the ribbed bands, and tug them a little higher up your thighs, smoothing the fabric so it hugs you just right, the gentle pressure snug and comforting.
You rehearse your opener for the ninth time, whispering to the empty room: âHi, Iâm your tutor. Weâll start with the power rule, then move to-â
The door slams open like it owes someone money.
Steve Rogers ducks under the frame, 6â2â of golden-boy quarterback crammed into a faded NYU hoodie thatâs losing the battle across his chest.
Hair damp from practice, smelling like grass and Irish Spring and nerves. His backpack thuds, spiral notebook, two Gatorades, half-eaten protein bar.
âHi. Youâre⊠the tutor?â His voice is softer than the Jumbotron makes it seem, like heâs afraid of scaring the flashcards.
You nod so hard your glasses slide again. âT-thatâs me! Study Room 3B, Tuesdays and Thursdays, 4 to 6 pm sharp.â Your voice cracks on sharp.
He smiles, small, sheepish, devastating. âThanks for doing this. Coachâll bench us if we donât pull Cs by midterms. I, uh⊠really donât wanna ride the pine.â
Before you can reply, the door bangs again.
Bucky Barnes saunters in thirteen minutes late, chewing wintergreen gum loud enough to wake the dead. Dark hair a calculated mess, jersey half-tucked into gray sweatpants that leave zero to the imagination.
Blue eyes lock on you like a heat-seeking missile. He drops into the chair opposite, knee brushing yours under the table, deliberately and stays there.
âRogers, you started without me? Rude.â He flashes a grin that should come with a warning label. âSo youâre the genius saving our asses from academic exile?â
You clear your throat, shoving a worksheet forward like a peace offering. âC-calculus first. Derivatives?â
Bucky leans forward, elbows on your open textbook, chin in his hands. His gaze dips to the V of your cardigan where the top button is clearly losing the war.
âDerivative of those tits?â He taps the page, smirking. âIâm talkinâ the exact slope of that left one when you breathe in. Bet itâs a fuckinâ parabola.â
Heat floods your face so fast your glasses actually fog.
Steveâs head snaps up. âBucky.â
âWhat? Iâm engaging with the material.â Buckyâs grin widens, all teeth. âOr do we need to integrate to find the volume of them? âCause Iâd volunteer for the hands-on portion.â
Youâre dying. Your hands fly to your cardigan, clutching it closed like itâs body armor. Your voice comes out a strangled mouse-whisper. âThe power rule. If f(x) = xâż, then f'(x) = n xâœâżâ»ÂčâŸ. For example: f(x) = xÂł, then f'(x) = 3xÂČ.â
Steve scribbles dutifully, but you catch him stealing a glance at your chest, quick as lightning before snapping back to his paper. His ears are crimson.
Bucky traces a lazy circle on the edge of your notebook. âOr we could talk related rates. Like, how fast those buttons are losinâ the fight when you lean over. Thatâs a real-world application right there.â
Steve mutters, âJesus, Buck,â but his gaze flicks up again, just for a second before he forces it back to the page. Heâs biting the inside of his cheek so hard youâre worried heâll draw blood.
You power through the product rule, the quotient rule, the chain rule, voice cracking four times.
Every time you glance up, Buckyâs staring, lazy and hungry, like heâs already picturing the cardigan on the floor.
Steve tries to focus, but you catch him sneaking looks too: the way your highlighter leaves neon streaks on your fingers, the way you bite your lower lip when youâre thinking, the way your chest rises when you inhale to explain the chain rule. His pen slows every time.
Halfway through, you pass out practice problems. Steve attacks his like itâs fourth-and-goal. Bucky spins his pen, then âaccidentallyâ flicks it across the table so it rolls into your lap, clattering against your thigh.
âOops,â he says, not sorry at all. âClumsy me. Bet youâre real good at pickinâ things up, though. Especially if theyâre lower.â
Steveâs jaw tightens. âBucky.â But his eyes dart to your lap, then back up fast, guilty.
You snatch the pen, cheeks on fire.
Bucky leans back slow, arms up, hoodie creeping just enough to flash that carved, tanned V dipping under his waistband.
âJust sayinâ, Teach,â he drawls, voice low and rough. âYou keep bendinâ over like that, Iâm gonna need a priest, a prayer, and about thirty seconds alone with my hand.â
Steve clears his throat, voice strained. âCan we focus on the actual math?â
Bucky smirks. âI am. Iâm calculatinâ how many seconds till that top button pops. My moneyâs on twenty.â
You yelp, and shove another worksheet at him. âChain rule. Now.â
By the end of the session, youâve covered half a chapter. Steve has four pages of neat notes, color-coded in your spare blue pen, but his handwriting gets shakier toward the bottom.
Bucky has one page of doodles: a football with boobs labeled Teachâs Study Aids â Handle with Care and a stick figure of you with a speech bubble: f (tits) = titsÂČ.
You start packing up, cheeks still flaming. Steve stands first, slinging his backpack. âSame time Thursday? Iâll bring snacks. And, uh⊠sorry about him.â
Bucky stretches again, arms overhead, hoodie riding higher. âWhat can I say? Iâm a visual learner.â He winks, popping his gum. âNice cardigan, Teach. Bet those tits look even better without it.â
Steve elbows him hard so hard Bucky grunts. âIgnore him. Heâs allergic to filters.â
But Buckyâs already sauntering out, hands in his pockets, whistling the fight song. Steve lingers, rubbing the back of his neck, ears still pink.
âHeâs⊠a lot,â he says, voice low. âBut heâll show. He always does. And he needs this. We both do.â
You nod, clutching your notes like a life raft. âSee you on Thursday.â
The door clicks shut. You collapse into the chair, heart hammering so loud youâre sure the next room heard it.
Derivative of those tits?
Visual learner?
Holy fuck.
You glance at Buckyâs doodle one last time, then crumple it but not before snapping a mental picture.
Thursday canât come soon enough.
You stumble into the dorm like youâve run a marathon, backpack straps cutting into your shoulders, glasses fogged from the steam of your own panic. The door hasnât even clicked shut before Natasha pounces.
âSpill. Every. Detail.â Sheâs perched on her bed legs crossed, tea in one hand, phone in the other. âYouâre twenty-eight minutes late. Thatâs either a miracle or a crime scene.â
You drop your bag, collapse face-first onto your pillow fortress. âI need a lobotomy.â
Natasha vaults off her bed, lands beside you like a cat.
âNope. No lobotomy till I get every detail.â She yanks your cardigan sleeve.
âSo did the boys actually try to pay attention to a single word you said, or was the whole tutoring thing just an excuse to stare and smirk? Were they teasing you nonstop?â
You bite your lip so hard it might bruise, cheeks on fire.
She leans in, voice low and giddy. âCome on⊠was it Steve pretending to be the perfect student, or was it Bucky being a total menace?â
Your gaze flicks to Buckyâs name for half a heartbeat and you give the tiniest, guilty nod.
Natâs grin goes full shark. âI fucking knew it was Barnes. That cocky bastard. Spill it, nerd.
You groan into the pillow. âHe said, direct quote âDerivative of those tits? Iâm talkinâ the exact slope of that left one when you breathe in. Bet itâs a fuckinâ parabola.ââ
Natasha cackles, loud enough to rattle the mini-fridge. âOh my God. Heâs filthy! I love him.â
âNat!â
âWhat? Itâs art.â She pokes your side. âAnd Steve? Golden boy? Did he clutch his pearls?â
You roll over, face flaming. âHe kept looking. Like quick glances, then back to his notes. His ears were pink. He wrote four pages but his handwriting got shakier every time I leaned over.â
Natashaâs eyes gleam. âHeâs folding. Slowly, but folding.â
She grabs your wrist, inspects the highlighter stains. âDid Bucky touch you?â
âHis knee. Under the table. The whole time.â
âKnee porn. Classic.â She flops beside you, propping her chin on her hand. âRate the tension. One to I need a cold shower.â
You bury your face in your hands. âI need a rosary and a damn exorcism.â
âWrong answer. Try again.â
You peek through your fingers. âFine. I need a cold shower and a new cardigan.â
Natasha whoops, rolling off the bed.
âThatâs my girl!â She yanks open your closet, rummages, and emerges with a sheer white blouse, silky, slightly oversized, the kind that turns translucent when wet. âThursday, you wear this.â
You blink. âThatâs⊠see-through.â
âExactly.â She tosses it at you. âDitch the cardigan. Keep the top three buttons open. Let the parabola breathe.â
You hurl a pillow at her head. It thwacks off her shoulder.
âIâm tutoring, not auditioning for a bad porno.â
She catches the pillow, smirks. âSame difference with those two.â
You groan, but youâre smiling. âI hate you.â
âLove you too, nerd.â She tosses the blouse onto your bed. âNow shower. You smell like library and sexual tension.â
You drag yourself up, clutching the blouse like contraband.
Thursday sneaks up like a linebacker in the blind spot.
Your nerves are live wires, sparks every time you think about Buckyâs doodle, Steveâs shaky handwriting, the way your own voice cracked last time.
Natasha corners you at the mirror, arms crossed, red hair still damp from her shower.
âBlouse. Now.â She shoves it into your hands.
âItâs too much,â you protest, clutching your cardigan like body armor.
âHey, itâs sexy. Enjoy âem while you can.â She winks, smacking your butt. âGo get âem, parabola.â
You lose the argument.
The blouse is softer than expected, silky, breathable. But the fabric clings to your chest like it's been paid to stay there. Every breath lifts the hem a fraction, the collar a fraction; every nervous tug only draws more eyes. You pair it with jeans anyway.
You push through the heavy glass doors of the library and the air-conditioning hits like a slap: icy, sharp, goosebumps exploding across your arms.
Your backpack thuds against your hip with every step, the white blouse already sticking from the humidity outside: cotton clinging to the small of your back, underboob, nipples faintly visible through the weave.
You scan the carrels: empty, empty, occupied.
Buckyâs early a miracle.
Heâs claimed the seat directly across from yours like a throne, long legs stretched, sneakers planted on the scarred oak table.
One thumb scrolls TikTok in lazy loops; the other hand crinkles a half-eaten protein-bar wrapper, silver foil flashing. His fingers drum a silent beat against the armrest. He doesnât look up, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he felt you walk in.
âSup, nerd.â
The bag of Flaminâ Hot Cheetos arcs through the air without warning, red comet. Thwap, dead-center on your closed laptop, dust puffing like a tiny explosion.
âBrought snacks. Steve swore he would, but heâs late.â The last word drips with fond exasperation, eyes still glued to his screen: some clip of a dog failing parkour, volume low enough to tease.
You open your mouth, to say something, anything, when the door behind you bangs open hard enough to rattle the hinges.
Steve barrels in, a whirlwind of damp hair and turf-scented wind. Practice bag slung high over one broad shoulder, cleats dangling by their laces.
His letterman jacket tied around his waist, T-shirt clinging to every ridge of his abs, nipples hard from the cold, sweat making the fabric translucent in patches.
âCoach ran film. Lost track of time, sorry.â He drops into the seat beside Bucky with a huff, notebook already flipped open, pen uncapped between his teeth.
He pulls it free, offers you a sheepish half-smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. âReady when you are.â
You sit across from them, slide your laptop forward, and open to page 187. âRelated rates. Balloon problem. Air pumped in at 10 cmÂł per second, find dr/dt when r = 5 cm.â
Steve leans forward, elbows on the table, pen poised. Bucky leans back, arms folded behind his head, eyes already locked on your chest like itâs the only equation that matters.
You start writing the equation on the textbook with a black pen. Ink glides smooth. âVolume of a sphere, V = (4/3)ÏrÂł, differentiate with respect to t-â
Buckyâs elbow slips.
The move is subtle, almost lazy: a casual lean forward, a brush of knuckles against your stainless-steel bottle. The capâs loose, you loosened it two minutes ago for a sip you never took.
Physics takes over.
The bottle topples with a hollow clunk, then a liquid whoosh. Ice water detonates across the narrow table in a glittering arc, a cold slap that punches the air from your lungs.
It soaks the open textbook first, pages warping, ink bleeding, then bridges the gap to your chest like it was magnetized.
White silk drinks it in, turns sheer in half a heartbeat.
Your lace bra, delicate, floral, the one you wore because it made you feel secretly powerful, maps itself in cruel high-def against your skin. Every swirl of embroidery, every scalloped edge, every shiver of gooseflesh.
The cold bites; your nipples tighten instantly, hard, aching. Fabric clings like itâs been paid overtime, suctioned to every curve, every breath a betrayal that lifts the soaked hem a fraction higher, revealing the soft curve of your breasts.
Time stalls. The fluorescent lights turn the wet patch into a spotlight. You hear your own inhale, sharp, mortified, echo off the cinderblock walls.
âSorry Teach,â Bucky drawls from across the table, voice low and syrupy, zero remorse in those storm-cloud eyes.
His gaze is a brand, slow, deliberate, tracing the waterline where silk meets skin, lingering on the lace like heâs memorizing the pattern for later. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, fingers flexing once against the table as if savoring the chaos he engineered.
âFuck, look at those beauties on full display. Lace looks expensive. Bet it feels even better wet.â
Your arms fly up, crossing tight over your soaked blouse like thatâll hide anything. Heat explodes across your face, scorching your ears, tingling in your fingertips. Youâre stuck, half-wanting to bolt, half-wanting the floor to swallow you, heart slamming so hard youâre sure the whole room can hear the frantic thud-thud-thud.
Steve moves like a reflex.
Heâs out of his chair in a flash, metal legs screeching across the floor. Two long strides and heâs right there, crowding into your space before the little shocked squeak even finishes escaping your lips.
Letterman jacket rips off his waist in one fluid motion, still warm from his body, heavy with cologne, fresh turf, and something unmistakably him. He drapes it over you like a shield. The sleeves swallow your hands whole; the hem brushes mid-thigh.
The weight of it grounds you, a sudden cocoon of safety in the middle of the storm. âThanks,â you manage, voice a croak, fingers clutching the lapels like a lifeline.
Steve lingers half a second longer than necessary, one hand brushing your shoulder as he steps back. Then heâs retreating to his seat beside Bucky, ears scarlet, jaw tight.
But his sweatpants, gray, thin, do nothing to hide the thick bulge straining against the fabric.
Hard, obvious, twitching with every breath. He sits fast, thighs spreading to try and hide it, but the angle only makes it worse, the outline of his cock clear, veins, head, everything.
âNo problem,â he mutters, the words clipped, almost angry at Bucky, at himself, at the universe. His pen hovers, trembling slightly, above the margin where heâd been scribbling.
A bead of water rolls off the tableâs edge and lands on his sneaker with a soft plink.
Bucky leans back, smirk lethal. âJesus, Rogers, your dickâs about to rip those sweats. Canât even hide it, huh? Poor guyâs aching for those wet tits.â
Steveâs knuckles whiten around the pen. âShut up, Buck.â
But his cock jumps at the words, visible, throbbing, a wet spot forming at the tip where precum is already leaking.
You teach the rest of the session in Steveâs jacket, sleeves bunched at your wrists, wool heavy and warm against your damp skin. The cedar-turf scent clings to every inhale, a quiet reminder that heâs watching even when he pretends not to.
Every breath is a negotiation with gravity. The zipper, thick brass teeth, creeps upward a millimeter with each expansion of your ribs, then settles again.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Bucky notices first, of course. His smirk starts lazy, a slow curl at the left corner of his mouth, and widens into something predatory every time the metal teeth flash.
âSo, Teach,â he muses, voice pitched low enough to vibrate under the table. He taps his pen against his lower lip, tap, tap, tap, like heâs keeping time with your pulse.
âWater level rises⊠does the volume go exponential?â His gaze dips deliberately to the narrow V where the jacket refuses to close.
âAskinâ for science, obviously. Or maybe I just wanna know how hard those nipples are right now. Bet theyâre begging for a mouth.â
Steveâs trying, God, heâs trying.
His pen scratches across the margin in tight, furious loops. Jaw locked so hard you can see the muscle jump beneath the skin. Shoulders rigid, like heâs bench-pressing the weight of his own restraint.
But every time you lean forward to underline a formula- âV equals one-third pi r squared h, so dV/dt equalsâŠâ
His eyes betray him. A flicker. Zipper. The shadowed hollow between collarbones. The place where wet fabric meets dry wool. Back to paper. Repeat.
You count the slips like heartbeats.
One: a half-second too long, lashes sweeping down before snapping up.
Two: a swallow that bobs his throat, pen pausing mid-stroke.
Three: the faintest exhale through his nose, almost a sigh.
Four: the pen snaps. Cheap plastic cracks; ink bleeds a blue comet across his notes.
âSorry,â he mutters, so low the word barely disturbs the air between you. He doesnât look up. Just flips the broken pen over, grips the barrel like it owes him money, and starts writing again with the jagged stub.
His ears are the color of brake lights. His cock is throbbing, leaking, the wet spot now the size of a quarter.
Bucky chuckles, soft, dark, delighted. âEasy, Rogers. Youâll flood the page next. Or your pants. Look at that stain man, leaking like a fucking faucet for her.â
Steveâs knuckles whiten. He doesnât answer. Just shifts, thighs clenching, trying to hide the obvious.
You keep teaching, voice steady by sheer spite. But every breath still lifts the zipper. Every lift still earns that smirk. And every stolen glance from Steve still burns hotter than the last.
You snap the notebook shut with a crisp thud that echoes off the cinderblock walls. âQuiz yourselves on problems 12 through 18. Weâll go over them Tuesday.â
Steve is already on his feet, duffel slung over one shoulder, the strap cutting a line across his broad chest. He pauses, fingers tightening on the nylon.
âThanks. Seriously.â His gaze flicks to the jacket, still draped around you like borrowed armor, then skitters away to the ruined textbook, the puddle on the table, anywhere but the place where wool meets wet silk. âThis is⊠helping.â
Bucky rises slower, a deliberate stretch that lifts his hoodie just enough to flash a strip of toned stomach. He yawns, arms overhead.
âYeah, Teach. Real educational.â The wink is pure sin, slow and pointed. âJacket looks better on the floor, Rogers. Or around her ankles while we-â
Steveâs elbow finds Buckyâs ribs, hard. The impact lands with a muffled thump; Bucky exhales a laugh that doesnât quite hide the wince. âBucky.â
You clutch the lapels tighter, knuckles whitening against the wool. âTuesday. Same time.â
Bucky drops his arms, salutes with two fingers to his brow. âWouldnât miss it, doll.â He saunters out, sneakers scuffing the linoleum, the door swinging shut behind him with a lazy whoosh.
Steve lingers. The room feels suddenly smaller, the air thick with cedar and leftover tension. He shifts his weight, cleats dangling from the duffel strap clacking softly.
âKeep it,â he says, voice softer now, almost shy. âTill your blouse dries. OrâŠâ He swallows, the word longer hanging unspoken between you. âSee you.â
The door clicks a final time.
You sink into the chair, knees weak.
Steveâs warmth seeps through the wool, wrapping you like a promise.
Buckyâs stare still burns phantom trails across your skin, lazy, deliberate, impossible to scrub off.
Bucky kicks a pebble; it skitters across the cracked sidewalk and pings off a bike rack with a metallic clink.
Steveâs half a step behind, duffel bouncing against his hip, jaw still clenched so tight the muscle jumps under the stubble.
âSubtle,â Steve mutters, voice gravel-rough. âReal fucking subtle, Barnes.â
Bucky snorts, hand shoved deep in his pocket, the other lazily spinning his keyring around one finger. âWhat? Gravity did ninety percent of the work. I just gave the bottle a little love tap.â
He glances sideways, grin sharp enough to cut glass. âYouâre welcome, by the way. Did you see that lace, Steve? White floral. Little satin bow right between her tits like a goddamn present.â
Steveâs ears flare crimson again, the flush crawling down his neck. âI caught you staring like a creep.â
âPlease.â Bucky mimics the pen snap with his flesh fingers: crack. âYou murdered your Bic in cold blood. One second youâre solving for r, next second youâre eye-fucking the bow on her bra like itâs the Super Bowl halftime show.â
Steve exhales hard through his nose, breath fogging in the cooling night air. âSheâs our tutor.â
âSheâs also twenty-one, single, and just spent the lesson marinating in your jacket while her nipples tried to drill through layers of wet fabric.â
Bucky bumps Steveâs shoulder, deliberate. âTell me you didnât picture peeling that wool off her slow, inch by inch, till sheâs standing there in nothing but those thigh-highs she wore last Tuesday.â
Silence. A cicada screams overhead, then dies.
Steve finally speaks, voice low, almost pained. âSheâs⊠careful. Like sheâs waiting for something.â
Bucky arches a brow, keyring still spinning. âWaiting, huh? You think sheâs still-â
âDonât.â Steve cuts him off, but the word hangs in the air anyway, thick and electric.
Bucky shrugs, softer now, but the smirk never leaves. âWouldnât matter if she was. Just means weâd take our time. Youâd be all gentle and golden-boy, kissing her like sheâs made of glass. Iâd beâŠâ
He licks his bottom lip, slow. âEducational. Spread her out on that table, show her exactly what related rates feel like when itâs my tongue doing the differentiating.â
Steve stops dead under a streetlamp. The orange light carves harsh shadows across his cheekbones, turns his eyes storm-blue. âWeâre not betting on her virginity, Buck.â
âWasnât a bet.â Bucky steps closer, voice dropping to that filthy purr he saves for locker-room talk and dark corners. âJust curiosity. Girl blushes like that: ears, neck, chest, all the way down to her pretty little-â
Steve shoulders past him hard enough to rattle the duffel strap. Boots crunch gravel. âTuesday. Hands to ourselves.â
Bucky falls in step, smirk audible in every word. âSure, Rogers. Hands off. Eyes, thoughâŠâ He whistles low, two notes, filthy promise. âEyes are fair game. And my mouthâs got a mind of its own.â
Steve shoots him a look that could freeze fire.
Bucky just grins wider, spinning the keyring faster. âCome on, admit it. Youâre hard again just thinking about it. I saw that wet spot in the library, size of a quarter and growing. Bet youâre still leaking thinking about that bow. Bet youâre imagining tying her wrists with it while I-â
âJesus, Buck.â
â-slide my tongue under that lace, suck those nipples till she forgets the chain rule. Bet sheâd sound so pretty begging: âPlease, Bucky, please, Steve, Iâll do the homework, just-ââ
Steve grabs the front of Buckyâs hoodie and shoves him against the nearest tree trunk, forearm across his chest. The bark scrapes. Buckyâs breath whooshes out, but the grin never wavers.
âFinish that sentence,â Steve growls, âand Iâll break your jaw.â
Bucky licks his lips, slow, deliberate. âYouâd have to catch me first, Rogers. And we both know youâre too busy picturing her on her knees between us: mouth full of you, my cock in her-â
Steveâs forearm presses harder. Buckyâs laugh is low, filthy, delighted.
âRelax, Stevie. Iâm just saying what weâre both thinking. Sheâs dripping for it. You saw how she kept tugging that jacket closed like it could hide how hard her nipples were. Bet if weâd slipped a hand under that table sheâd have come just from a thumb on her clit.â
Steveâs breathing is ragged. The streetlamp flickers overhead. Somewhere a car door slams.
Bucky softens, just a fraction. âShe wants it. You saw her eyes. Scared, yeah. But wet. Curious. Tuesday we play nice. After calc midtermsâŠâ
He shrugs, smirk curling again. âAfter calc midterms we find out how far down that blush really goes.â
Steve lets go, steps back, runs a hand through his hair. The duffel thuds against his thigh.
âTuesday,â he repeats, like a vow and a threat at once.
Bucky pushes off the tree, brushes bark from his hoodie. âTuesday weâre perfect gentlemen. Eyes only.â
He leans in, voice a dark whisper against Steveâs ear. âBut after midterms Iâm gonna have her screaming my name so loud the librarian files a noise complaint. And youâre gonna thank me for it.â
Steve doesnât answer. Just starts walking again, faster now.
Bucky follows, hands in his pockets, whistling that same filthy two-note tune.
Behind them, the library windows glow gold against the dark, warm light spilling onto the empty sidewalk like a promise neither of them intends to keep.
Youâre early again, cardigan buttoned to the throat like a chastity belt, sleeves tugged over your knuckles so far only your fingertips peek out.
The table is a fortress: flash cards stacked in perfect towers, two freshly sharpened pencils aligned like soldiers, and a single laminated midterm formula sheet taped to the whiteboard like a hostage note.
No water bottle in sight. Lesson learned.
The door bangs open at 3:59. Steve ducks in first, hoodie swapped for a tight black thermal that clings to every ridge of muscle. He drops a paper bag on the table: two iced coffees, one labeled oat milk, two pumps vanilla, condensation already beading on the plastic. His fingers drum the bag nervously.
Bucky follows, slower, but his usual swagger is cracked, gray sweatpants ride low on his hips, hoodie half-zipped to reveal a sliver of collarbone and the dark trail that disappears beneath the waistband. He carries nothing but a smirk and a single red pen he twirls between his fingers like a baton: except the twirl is a little too fast, betraying jitters.
âFinal boss level, Teach,â Bucky drawls, sliding into the chair opposite you. His knee finds yours under the table immediately. âQuiz us. Break us. Then we break you.â
Steve elbows him hard, but his ears are already pink. âIgnore him. Weâre ready.â His voice wavers just a hair. âMostly.â
You clear your throat, shoving the first flash card forward. âRelated rates. Conical tank, water draining at 4 ftÂł/min. Radius 6 ft, height 12 ft. Find dh/dt when h = 8 ft.â
Steveâs pen scratches instantly, the sound loud in the quiet room but his hand trembles slightly.
Bucky leans back, arms folded, eyes locked on the V of your cardigan where the top button strains against the swell of your chest.
He forces a grin. âVolume of a cone is (1/3)ÏrÂČh. Similar triangles, r/h = 6/12 = 1/2. So r = h/2. V = (1/3)Ï(h/2)ÂČh = (1/12)ÏhÂł. dV/dt = ÏhÂČ dh/dt. Plug in-â
â-h = 8, dV/dt = â4,â Steve finishes, voice low, focused: but he exhales shakily. âdh/dt = â4 / (Ï*64) = â1/(16Ï) ft/min. Right?â
You nod, impressed. âGood. Next.â
Buckyâs turn.
You flip the card. âOptimization. Rectangular garden, 100 ft of fencing. One side against a barn. Maximize area.â
He doesnât blink, but his knee bounces under the table. âLet x be parallel sides, y the side against the barn. 2x + y = 100, y = 100 â 2x. Area A = x*y = x(100 â 2x) = 100x â 2xÂČ. Derivative Aâ = 100 â 4x = 0. x = 25. y = 50. Max area 1250 ftÂČ.â He pauses, then adds with a nervous smirk, âUnless I just maximized the wrong variable and tanked the whole thing.â
Steve whistles low. âShow-off.â But his laugh is tight.
Buckyâs grin is sharp, but his eyes flick to you for reassurance. âJust warming up, Rogers. Gotta impress her before she realizes weâre one wrong derivative away from flunking.â
He leans forward, voice dropping to a filthy murmur: but thereâs a tremor in it. âWhat do I win, Teach? A gold star? OrâŠâ
His gaze flicks to your cardigan button, then lower. âOne less layer? Bet if I pop that top button weâll see that little bow again. The one that made Stevie leak in his sweats last week, might distract us from the fact weâre about to bomb LâHĂŽpitalâs.â
Heat floods your face so fast your ears ring. You shove another card at him. âIntegration by parts. â« xÂČ ln(x) dx.â
Steve takes this one, eyes never leaving the page: but his free hand rubs the back of his neck. âu = ln(x), dv = xÂČ dx. du = 1/x dx, v = xÂł/3. â« u dv = uv â â« v du = (ln(x)*xÂł/3) â â« (xÂł/3)(1/x) dx = (xÂł ln(x)/3) â (1/3)â« xÂČ dx = (xÂł ln(x)/3) â (xÂł/9) + C.â He looks up, hopeful. âNailed it?â
You blink. âPerfect.â
Buckyâs fingers drum the table: fast, anxious. âMy turn again. Make it hard but not too hard, or Iâll forget my own name tomorrow.â
You flip the toughest one. âLâHĂŽpitalâs Rule. lim (xâ0) (sin(x) â x)/xÂł.â
He doesnât hesitate but his voice cracks on the first derivative. âIndeterminate 0/0. Derivative: (cos(x) â 1)/(3xÂČ). Still 0/0. Again: (âsin(x))/(6x). Still. Again: (âcos(x))/6 = â1/6.â He exhales hard. âPlease tell me thatâs right, or Iâm switching majors to art history.â
Steveâs jaw drops. âYou memorized that?â
Bucky shrugs, eyes on you: pleading under the bravado. âHad motivation. Your flashcards are hotter than my GPA.â
You swallow. âLast one. Partial fractions. Decompose 1/(xÂČ(x+1)).â
They tag-team it like theyâve rehearsed but Steveâs hand shakes as he writes.
Steve sets up: âA/x + B/xÂČ + C/(x+1).â
Bucky solves: â1 = A x (x+1) + B (x+1) + C xÂČ.â
They plug in x = 0, x = â1, x = 1. Coefficients fly, Bucky mutters âIf this is wrong, Iâm blaming the coffee.â
Final answer: â1/x + 1/xÂČ + 1/(x+1).
You stare at the page, then at them. âYou⊠you just aced the practice final.â
Steveâs smile is soft, proud, but his eyes are wide. âTold you weâd make you proud but holy shit, we might actually pass.â
Bucky leans in, voice velvet and venom but thereâs a nervous edge. âNow the real quiz, doll.â He taps the red pen against his lower lip slow, deliberate, but his hand trembles slightly.
âHow many buttons till we see that lace again? Iâm betting on three. Pop, pop, pop.â He mimics the motion with his fingers, eyes locked on your chest. âThen we find out if your nipples are still pink when theyâre hard. Bet they taste like vanilla, might be the only thing sweeter than a passing grade.â
Steveâs hand finds your knee under the table, warm, steady, but his thumb strokes the inside seam of your skirt like heâs grounding himself.
âWeâre done studying,â he murmurs, voice rough. âBut weâre not done with you, unless we flunk tomorrow and have to beg for extra credit.â
You clutch the flash cards like a shield. âCalc midterms are tomorrow. Results come out next week. Go back to your dorms and review everything. No distractions.â
Buckyâs grin turns feral, his laugh is shaky. âFine, Teach. Dorm. Study. Sleep.â His eyes rake you from cardigan to knees and back up.
âNext week, when we ace them⊠we ace you. Gonna spread you out on this table, hike that little skirt up, and take turns eating you till you forget the fundamental theorem. Then weâll flip you over, bend you over the whiteboard, and fuck you so hard the dry-erase markers rattle, assuming we donât bomb and end up retaking Calc 101.â
Steve squeezes your knee once, gentle, promising, before letting go. âYou heard her. Dorm.â
They stand in sync, chairs scraping.
Bucky flicks the red pen across the table; it spins, stops pointing at your chest like a compass needle. âNext week, doll,â he says, voice low. âCardigan optional. Panties definitely optional, unless we fail and have to wear them as a badge of shame.â
Steve lingers at the door, eyes dark, thermal stretched tight across his chest. âLock up after us, Teach. Donât wait up and pray we donât forget LâHĂŽpitalâs at 9 am.â
The door swings shut.
The room is suddenly too quiet, too warm. The air smells like iced coffee, cedar, and the faint metallic tang of Buckyâs nervous smirk.
Youâre alone.
Your thighs press together under the table, slick and aching. The cardigan feels heavier now, every button a countdown. You exhale shakily, fingers brushing the top button, then stopping.
One week later, sunlight slants through the high library windows, turning dust motes into slow-motion glitter. The room hums with tension: whispers, page flips, the occasional groan of despair.
Youâre camped at your usual table, cardigan sleeves pushed to the elbows, revising integrals. Color-coded sticky tabs bristle from your textbook like neon porcupine quills.
Then, thud-thud-thud. Sneakers pounding down the hall.
âWe fucking passed!â
Steve bursts through the doors first, golden in the afternoon light. Hair windblown from sprinting across the quad, letterman jacket flapping open, exam clutched triumphantly in one fist. He skids to a stop beside your chair, chest heaving, grin wide enough to eclipse the sun.
Bucky strolls in right behind, lazy swagger intact. He hops up onto the tableâs edge in front of you, boots dangling, hand braced on the wood. His paper is folded into a paper airplane; he flicks it open mid-air and lets it glide onto your open notebook.
âLook, doll. Ninety-fuckinâ-two.â Wink sharp enough to cut glass. âProf drew a smiley face. Bet heâs crushinâ hard.â
You snatch both sheets. Steveâs 94 is circled in triumphant red. Buckyâs 92 sits beside scrawled professor handwriting: âOutstanding improvement!â
The numbers hit you like tequila shots.
You did this.
Two weeks of whiteboard marathons, spilled water, snapped pens, Buckyâs tit doodles, Steveâs stolen glances: it paid off.
âWoah, boysâŠâ Your voice cracks. You look up. Theyâre both staring like youâre the only equation in the room. Steveâs smile soft, shy. Buckyâs pure filth.
Bucky leans forward, elbows on knees, voice a low rumble. âSo what do you say, pretty girl? Sigma Chi basement. Tonight. You. Us.â
He punctuates each word with a finger drum next to your highlighter. âWe earned it. You earned it.â
Steve steps closer, shoulder brushing Buckyâs. âWeâll be good,â he promises, but his eyes lock on your mouth, linger.
âScoutâs honor.â His thumb grazes the frayed cuff of your cardigan, calloused skin on soft wool. âLow-key. Teammates, music, cheap beer. Weâll stay with you.â
He slides off the table, boots hitting the floor with a thud. Suddenly heâs close, heat radiating, cutting through the library chill. âThatâs a goddamn crime. A girl who makes related rates sexy deserves one night of bad decisions.â
Steveâs hand finds the back of your chair, fingers brushing your neck, not accidental, warm, possessive.
âItâs casual,â he coaxes, voice warm. âIf itâs lame, we bail for milkshakes. Deal?â
Buckyâs grin turns lethal. âBesides, youâve seen us at our worst: flunking calc, drowning your tits in water-â He gestures at your chest, eyes raking slow.
âLet us show you our best. Dancing. Shots. Beer pong where the stakes areâŠâ He leans in, breath hot on your ear, stubble grazing your skin. âYour cardigan. My hoodie. Steveâs boxers. Kidding.â
A pause. âUnless youâre into it?â
Steve elbows him, but heâs laughing, cheeks pink. âIgnore him. One hour. You, me, Buck, shittiest playlist on campus. Let us ruin you, just a little.â
Your pulse is louder than the stacks. You hook your pinky around Buckyâs. âOne hour. But Iâm wearing this cardigan.â
Buckyâs grin could power the campus. âFuck yes. Cardiganâs stayinâ. For now.â
Steve squeezes your shoulder, firm, reassuring before letting go. âTen sharp. Weâll bring liquid courage⊠and condoms.â
Bucky blows a kiss. Steve just smiles, slow, devastating.
The doors swing shut. Sunlight pools where they stood. You stare at the perfect grades, heart racing like itâs already midnight.
You knock once, cardigan sleeves tugged over your knuckles like armor.
Natasha yanks the door open before the second rap, red hair twisted in a towel turban, silk robe slipping off one shoulder, cigarette dangling from her lips.
âPerfect timing. Strip.â
You clutch your cardigan tighter, knuckles whitening. âIâm wearing this. Itâs⊠comfortable.â
Natashaâs eyes narrow to sniper slits, smoke curling from her nostrils. âComfortable is for study hall nerd. Tonight youâre walking into Sigma Chi with two campus gods whoâve been eye-fucking you ever since they first saw you in that wet blouse. Cardigan says tutor. Weâre saying trouble.â
She grabs your wrist, tugs you inside, kicks the door shut with her heel.
The room smells like vanilla, cigarettes, and chaos. Clothes explode across her bed: leather, lace, satin, denim. She rifles through like a general choosing weapons.
âSkirt,â she declares, holding up a black pleated mini, two inches shy of legal. âThis one. The second you bend over in it, Steveâs gonna forget he was ever a gentleman and Buckyâs gonna start speaking in tongues.â
Your voice shoots an octave. âNat, thatâs⊠a belt.â
âItâs fashion, baby.â She shoves it into your hands, already unzipping your jeans. âTry. Or Iâll do it for you.â
You peek at the mirror, then back at the skirt. âIâll freeze. And bend over wrong and-â
âYouâll bend over right.â She yanks the cardigan over your head before you can protest; cool air hits your arms, goosebumps racing.
âTop, here.â A silky camisole, thin straps, neckline plunging just enough to make your heart stutter. âTucks in, shows the waist youâve been hiding under fleece like itâs a federal offense.â
You hold the cami like it might bite. âThis is revealing.â
Natasha snorts, already behind you zipping the skirt. âItâs strategic. Shows legs, hints at cleavage, leaves them guessing about the panties. You want Bucky short-circuiting or Steve praying? This is the uniform.â
She spins you to the mirror, hands on your shoulders. âLook. Dangerous. Like someone who knows exactly what sheâs doing with two football players whoâve been jerking off to your flashcards.â
Your reflection stares back: skirt skimming mid-thigh, pleats swishing when you move. The cami drapes like liquid. You tug the hem lower, cheeks burning. âI look like Iâm about to get arrested for public indecency-â
Natasha slaps your hands away and grips your shoulders, forcing them back so the cami pulls tight across your chest.
âExactly. Thatâs the point.â She smirks, eyes gleaming. âYou tutored the hottest jocks on campus through calculus. Tonight theyâre your project. Own it.â
She produces a tiny leather jacket, cropped, studded. âLayer for the walk, ditch it inside. Mystery. Tease.â
Natasha circles you one last time, cigarette pinched between two fingers, eyes narrowed like sheâs inspecting a weapon that still needs one final tweak.
âHair: perfect. Lips: lethal. Legs: illegal.â She stops in front of you, reaches for the glasses perched on your nose. âThese, however, have to go.â
You slap her hand away so fast the frames skid down the bridge of your nose. âNo. These stay on. I donât wanna be practically blind at a party.â
Natasha arches one perfect brow. âYouâll be able to feel where Steve and Bucky are just fine, trust me.â
âNat. I wonât even be able to tell which one is groping me.â
She snorts, smoke curling. âThatâs half the fun.â
You fold your arms, stubborn. âIâll trip over a cup and face-plant into a keg. Or worse, walk into the wrong dorm room and accidentally give some random lacrosse guy the night of his life.â
Natashaâs grin turns evil. âImagine the headlines: Calc Tutor Mistakes Sigma Chi for Phi Delt, Accidentally Invents New Position.â
You glare over the rims. âNot happening.â
She taps ash into a coffee mug, considering. âFine. Glasses stay.â She adjusts the frames with two fingers so they sit just right, low enough to look effortlessly sexy, high enough that you can actually see. âWeâre making them part of the look. Sexy librarian whoâs about to grade two very eager students.â
A beat. âAnd these.â She tosses a pair of sheer thigh-highs onto the bed: delicate, lacy tops with tiny satin bows. âTrust me. Theyâll be on their knees before the first beer pong ball drops.â
You sit on the bed, rolling one stocking up slowly, cheeks on fire. The lace band hugs your thigh like a promise, the little bow sitting perfectly at the top.
Natasha kneels in front of you, smoothing the lace with military precision, fingers lingering on the soft skin just above. âMmm. Look at that. Buckyâs gonna lose his entire mind when he sees these bows. Steveâs gonna recite the pledge of allegiance backwards.â
You squeak. âNat!â
She grins, feral. âWhat? You think golden boy isnât gonna drop to his knees the second he spots this lace? These are weapons, babe.â
She stands, offers both hands. âUp. Final check.â
You rise. The skirt flutters. The cami clings. The cropped leather jacket hangs open just enough. The lacy thigh-highs grip your legs like a secret. Your glasses sit perfectly on your nose like you were born to wear them while getting ruined.
Natasha rests her chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. âRepeat after me: âIâm not the tutor tonight. Iâm the final exam, and theyâre about to fail spectacularly.ââ
Your cheeks burn. âNat-â
âSay it.â
You swallow. ââŠIâm the final exam, and theyâre about to fail spectacularly.â
âLouder. With conviction.â
âIâm the final exam and theyâre about to fail spectacularly!â
Natasha smirks, satisfied. âGood girl.â
She shoves the tiny purse into your hand: lip gloss, ID, emergency twenty, two condoms, and a spare glasses wipe âjust in case things get steamy.â
She walks you to the door, slaps your ass hard enough to make the pleats bounce and the lace tops shift deliciously. âGo make Steve Rogers forget the rules of football and Bucky Barnes forget his own name. And if anyone tries to take those glasses off, tell them you need to see exactly how hard theyâre failing.â
You pause on the threshold, heart hammering. âNat?â
âYeah?â
âThanks.â
She winks, blowing smoke. âGo win the war, soldier.â
You step off the porch into pulsing bass and red Solo cup confetti. The pleated mini swishes with every nervous step; thigh-highs grip your legs like a secret. The leather jacket hangs open, cami plunging, heart hammering louder than the music. Youâve never been to a frat party. Youâve never worn anything this short.
Steve 10:08pm
you already here pretty girl? can't wait to see you
You barely hit send on here before the front door flies open.
Steve is there, flannel unbuttoned, tight white tee clinging to his chest, jeans slung low. His eyes rake you from thigh-highs to cami, linger on the cleavage, then snap to your face.
His ears go pink. âJesus, angel.â The words slip out before he can stop them. He swallows hard, offers his arm like a lifeline. âYou came.â
You clutch it, fingers trembling. âPromised one hour.â
Bucky materializes behind him, three shots in hand, hoodie half-zipped, hair a mess. His gaze locks on your legs, slides up slow, stops at the cami neckline.
He licks his lips.
âFuck me,â Bucky breathes, voice rough as gravel. He slides the shot into your hand, fingers brushing yours, then clinks his glass against it with a wicked little grin. âTo 92%⊠and whatever filthy little thing this is turning into.â
You knock it back. Tequila slams down your throat like liquid fire. You cough hard, eyes stinging.
Steve chuckles low beside you while Bucky just smirks, both of them steering you inside with big, warm hands on your back like theyâre afraid youâll vanish if they let go.
The party is chaos: strobe lights flash blue-red-blue, sweaty bodies grind to Future, beer pong screams echo off cinderblock walls.
Youâre wedged between them on a sagging couch, Steveâs thigh warm against your bare one, Buckyâs arm draped along the backrest, fingers brushing your shoulder. Youâve never sat this close to anyone.
Bucky dips close, breath hot against your ear, voice a low, velvet growl. âEver let someone feel you up, Teach?â
You shake your head, tiny and frantic little jerks, cheeks blazing hotter than the string lights overhead.
Steveâs voice is husky. âWeâll take care of you.â
His hand rests on your knee, innocent, then slides an inch higher. Buckyâs fingers toy with your cami strap, tugging it down a fraction. âCold?â Bucky murmurs. âOr just happy to see us?â
You shiver. The AC is arctic; the cami is thin. Your nipples peak under the silk, traitors.
Steve notices. His thumb traces a slow circle on your thigh. âYou okay?â
You nod, voice small. âOne hour.â
Bucky grins. âWhatever you say, doll.â
They drag you to the dance floor. The bass drops low and filthy, bodies pressing in from all sides. Steveâs hands find your hips, guiding you back against him, slow and deliberate. Bucky crowds in front, sandwiching you between them.
âMove with us, sweetheart,â Steve whispers against your hair, breath hot. His hips roll, guiding yours in a lazy grind. The skirt flips up with every sway, brushing the lace tops of your thigh-highs.
Buckyâs hands slide down your arms, lacing his fingers with yours, lifting them above your head so your body arches.
âFuck, look at you,â he groans, eyes dark. He drops your hands, spins you so your back is to his chest, Steve still in front. Buckyâs thigh nudges between yours, parting them just enough for the skirt to ride higher.
Steveâs hands settle on your waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin above your skirt. His fingers brush the edge of your glasses. âThese stayinâ on, Teach?â he murmurs, voice rough with amusement. âGonna watch us ruin you in perfect focus?â
Bucky leans in, lips at your ear. âBet they fog up real pretty when you come.â
Youâve never danced like this. Never felt two bodies moving against you, hard and insistent. The music is a heartbeat, thumping through your ribs, your thighs, your core.
Steveâs hips press forward, the ridge of his cock unmistakable against your stomach. Buckyâs hands slide lower, cupping your ass, pulling you back so you feel him too, thick, throbbing, grinding slow.
âFeel that?â Buckyâs voice is gravel in your ear. âThatâs what you do to us.â
Steveâs mouth finds your neck, open-mouthed kisses, teeth grazing. âSo fucking sweet.â His hands slide up, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the cami. Your nipples ache, straining against the lace bra.
He spins you again, facing Bucky.
Bucky presses in close, chest to chest, one hand on your lower back, the other reaching up to tap the bridge of your glasses. âGonna need these to see exactly how hard you make us, doll.â
The strobe lights paint everything in flashes, sweat-slick skin, Buckyâs tongue tracing the shell of your ear, Steveâs teeth nipping your shoulder. The music is so loud you feel it in your bones, in the pulse between your legs.
Buckyâs hand slides down, fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt, grazing the bare skin above your thigh-highs. âSo soft,â he murmurs, voice rough. âBet youâre soaked already, Teach.â
Steveâs hands slide up, cupping your breasts over the cami, thumbs circling your nipples through the fabric. âFuck, angel. These are perfect.â He leans in, breath fogging the lenses of your glasses. âLook at that, already steaming up.â
Youâre breathless, dizzy, the tequila and the heat and the hands and the mouths all blurring together.
âOne hourâs up,â you manage, voice shaking.
Bucky grins against your neck. âClockâs broken.â
Steve kisses your temple, lingering. âStay.â
The bass thumps like a second heartbeat. Bucky growls, âNeed you now.â
He grabs your wrist, yanks you off the dance floor. Steve follows, hand on your lower back, guiding you through the sweaty crowd like bodyguards.
They herd you into a dim hallway, music muffled to a low throb.
Bucky pins you to the wall, hands on your hips, mouth hovering an inch from yours. âTell me, doll,â he murmurs, voice low and filthy. âYou ever had a boy actually care about this pretty pussy?â
You bite your lip, heat flooding your cheeks. âTwice,â you whisper. âBut⊠he didnât⊠I didnâtâŠâ
Steveâs fingers trace the edge of your skirt, gentle. âDidnât what, sweetheart?â
You swallow. âDidnât come. Either time. He just⊠finished. Didnât touch me after. Didnât even try.â
Buckyâs eyes darken, jaw tight. âMotherfucker.â He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. âThat ends tonight.â
Steveâs hand slides higher, fingers ghosting over the damp lace between your legs. âEver had a tongue on your clit till youâre shaking?â
You shake your head. âNo. Never.â
Buckyâs mouth brushes your ear. âEver had fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot till you see stars?â
âNo,â you breathe. âHe just⊠put it in. That was it.â
Steve groans, forehead dropping to yours. His breath fogs your glasses instantly, lenses clouding white. âJesus. Never had your nipples sucked slow? Never had someone worship you?â
You shake your head again, trembling. âNo. Never.â
Buckyâs hand slips under your cami, palming your breast, thumb flicking your nipple through the lace. âEver had two mouths on you, taking their time?â
âNo,â you whisper. âNever.â
Steveâs fingers press gently against your clit through the lace, slow circles that make your knees buckle. âSoaked already, angel. Youâre dripping for us.â
He smirks, watching the fog spread across your glasses. âLook at that, canât even see us through these anymore. Guess weâll have to make you feel it instead.â
Buckyâs mouth slams into yours, raw tequila and sharp mint and pure, frantic hunger. His tongue slides in deep, filthy, claiming, like heâs been starving for this exact taste. A broken little whimper slips out of you; your knees actually give.
Steve watches, jaw clenched, fisting his flannel so hard the seams creak. He reaches up, gently slides your glasses down your nose just enough to clear the lenses, then pushes them back up with a filthy grin. âBetter keep these on, sweetheart. Youâre gonna wanna watch what we do to you.â
Steve steps in, gentle at first, one hand cradling your skull, thumb stroking your cheek. His kiss is slow, worshipful then he groans and devours you, tongue sliding against yours, hips rolling slow.
Buckyâs hands slide under your cami, palming your tits over the lace bra. âFuck, so soft.â He pinches your nipples, rolls them until you squeal into Steveâs mouth.
Steve breaks the kiss, breath ragged. âTell us to stop and we will.â
Bucky spins you, back to his chest, yanks the cami up to your ribs. He bites your neck, sucks a bruise under your ear. âGonna mark you up, doll. So everyone knows who you belong to.â
Steve drops to his knees, hands on your thighs, pushing the pleated mini up to your hips. âSpread for me, sweetheart.â
You obey, legs trembling so hard your thigh-highs slip an inch.
He nuzzles the lace panties, inhales deep. âSmell so fucking good.â His tongue licks a stripe over the fabric, groaning at the wetness.
Bucky rolls his hips slow and deliberate, thick cock dragging against your ass with every grind. âHear that, doll?â he rasps, lips at your ear. âThatâs Stevie down there praying.â
His hand glides down, cups you possessively right over Steveâs buried face, fingers pressing the soaked fabric against your clit. âFuck, youâre drenched. Good girl.â
Steve drags the soaked lace aside with two fingers and buries his tongue deep, licking straight into your dripping folds. Your cry cracks in half; your legs turn to jelly.
Buckyâs strong arms band around your waist from behind, hauling you up so you donât collapse. His fingers find your nipples again, pinching and tugging hard enough to make you sob.
âThatâs it, sweetheart,â he rasps against your neck, voice pure gravel. âLet Stevie devour that pretty pussy like itâs the only dessert heâll ever need.â
You come hard, screaming into Buckyâs hand clamped over your mouth, glasses completely useless now, lenses white with steam.
They donât stop.
Steve stands, kissing you with your taste on his tongue, salty, sweet, filthy, his breath fogging your glasses one last time.
Bucky spins you fast enough to make the room tilt, drops to his knees right there like a man possessed, and rips your soaked panties down to your ankles in one rough yank.
âMy turn, doll.â
Your legs feel weightless and unsteady. Your thoughts are a blur of white noise.
And theyâre just getting started.
Youâre still trembling from the hallway, thighs slick with your own release, the cool air licking at the wet heat between your legs like a second tongue.
Panties gone: Buckyâs fist had closed around the damp silk and stuffed it in his pocket with a low, possessive growl.
Your pleated mini is twisted high on your hips, the hem catching on the lace tops of your thigh-highs, which bite into the soft flesh with every wobbling step.
The cami clings to your skin, damp with sweat and the faint salt of Steveâs kisses; your nipples are so hard they ache, rubbing raw against the lace with every ragged breath.
Steveâs hand engulfs yours, calloused, hot, slick with sweat, fingers laced so tight your knuckles blanch.
Buckyâs palm spreads across the small of your back, guiding you forward. Heâd stripped off his hoodie the second you stepped out of the dim hallway, the fabric still warm from his body, heavy with cedar, smoke, and the musk rolling off his skin.
He zipped it around you in one motion, metal teeth scraping your nipples as he pulled it tight. âNo one sees whatâs ours,â heâd murmured, teeth grazing your ear. âThis pussy, these tits, that mouth... all ours tonight.â
The partyâs dying pulse thumps behind you as they hustle you out the side door. The metal handle is ice under your palm; the night air slaps your bare pussy like a shock, making you gasp.
Your arousal has cooled into sticky trails down your inner thighs, and every gust of wind kisses the swollen lips, sending sparks up your spine.
Bucky tugs the hoodie tighter, zipper teeth dragging over your sensitive skin until you whimper.
The hem falls mid-thigh, swallowing the twisted mini, hiding the way your cami is twisted sideways, one breast half-spilling out, nipple dark and peaked beneath the wool.
The quad is dark, wet grass squelching under your heels. Every step makes the slick between your legs shift, cool then warm again as your thighs brush.
Steveâs hand slides under the hoodie, cupping your bare ass, fingers spreading you open just enough that the night air hits your hole. You stumble; he steadies you, two fingers gliding through your folds, collecting the mess there and spreading it up to your clit in a slow, filthy circle.
âStill dripping for us,â he rasps. âFuck, listen to that, so wet I can hear it. Youâre gonna soak our sheets, arenât you, sweetheart?â
Buckyâs thumb finds your nipple through the hoodie, rolling it until itâs a hard, throbbing point. âTell me you want this,â he says, voice rough. âSay it out loud, doll. Tell us how bad you need these cocks.â
âYes,â you breathe, the word cracking. âI need it. Need you both. Please.â
The dorm hallway smells like industrial cleaner and stale pizza. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh on your flushed skin.
Buckyâs keycard scrapes, plastic on plastic, until the door unlocks.
Steve pins you to the wall the second it clicks shut, mouth crashing into yours, tongue thick and wet, hips grinding so you feel every inch of his cock straining against his jeans. âFeel that?â he growls against your lips. âThatâs all for you. Gonna split this tight little pussy open.â
Bucky grinds against your ass from behind, the thick line of him hot through his sweats, sliding between your cheeks with a low groan. âGonna wreck you so good, doll. Gonna make you forget every shitty fuck you ever had.â
The room is a haze of male heat. The beds are shoved together, sheets rumpled and smelling of detergent, sweat, and sex. Cleats caked with dried mud sit by the door; a half-empty tub of vanilla protein powder sweats on the desk. Condoms glint on the nightstand like foil-wrapped promises.
Steve fists the hem of Buckyâs hoodie and tears it upward in one savage pull; the soft cotton scrapes over your skin and drops in a hushed heap to the floor. Your cami follows right after, he drags it over your head without a word, leaving you in the thin lace of your bra, nipples already straining against the cups.
Buckyâs hand slides to your back, fingers finding the clasp; one sharp flick and the elastic snaps open with a sting. The lace loosens, slips from your shoulders, and only then do your breasts spill free, heavy, flushed, aching, straight into his waiting palms.
He cups them, heavy and warm, tongue dragging over your nipples until theyâre slick with his spit. âFuck, these tits,â he groans, bending to lick a hot, wet stripe up the valley between them. âBeen dreaming about sucking these while I jerk off. Gonna leave marks all over âem.â
Steve drops to his knees. His hands grip your hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. The pleated mini unzips with a slow, metallic rasp, pooling at your ankles in a soft rustle.
You step out of it, naked except for the lacy thigh-highs and your glasses, frames slightly fogged from the hallway, lenses catching the golden dorm light.
Steve spreads your legs wider. His nose drags up your inner thigh, stubble scraping raw skin, breath scalding. He inhales deep, a guttural sound that vibrates through your clit.
âSmell like fucking sin,â he mutters, then licks, one long, flat stripe from your entrance to your clit, tongue curling to suck the swollen bud into his mouth. You cry out, knees buckling. âTaste even better. So sweet, baby.â
Buckyâs behind you now, cock out, thick and flushed, veins pulsing. He guides your trembling hand to wrap around the base, hot, velvet over steel, slick with precum. âStroke me, doll,â he says, voice strained. âSlow, yeah, just like that. Fuck, your little hand feels so good.â
Your glasses slip down your nose as you sink to your knees, the carpet rough against your skin. You lean in, lips brushing the flushed head. The taste explodes, salt, musk, a hint of copper. Your tongue swirls, tentative, heart hammering so loud youâre sure they can hear it.
Buckyâs breath catches in a low hiss, both warm hands cradling your head as his fingers slide gently, reverently, through your hair.
âOpen up, sweetheart,â he murmurs, voice rough with awe and raw hunger. âFirst time ever wrapping these pretty lips around a cock, and youâre already down on your knees for us⊠fuck, thatâs the hottest thing Iâve ever seen.â
You do.
The stretch is immediate and overwhelming, his thick, blunt head forcing your jaw wide as it glides heavy over your tongue and nudges the back of your throat. A sharp gag rips out of you, eyes flooding behind your glasses, tears already clinging to your lashes.
Bucky eases back just an inch, thumb sweeping tenderly over your wet cheek. âEasy, baby,â he soothes, voice low and wrecked. âBreathe through your nose for me. Thatâs it⊠now look up, fuck, let me see those big, teary eyes while you choke on my cock. Perfect. Youâre fucking perfect.â
Steveâs tongue is merciless, lashing your clit in fast, tight circles that make your hips jerk against his mouth. Two thick fingers sink deep into your pussy with a lewd, wet schlick, curling hard and dragging over that spot inside you until your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
Every muffled moan you try to swallow spills out as raw vibration around Buckyâs cock, the sound humming straight through his shaft and pulling a ragged groan from his chest.
Buckyâs hips roll forward in a slow, deliberate push, feeding you another thick inch until the swollen head nudges deep at the back of your throat. Another helpless gag tears through you, your whole body shuddering with it.
Saliva spills past your stretched lips in a slick rush, sliding down your chin and splattering onto your chest. The lenses of your glasses fog completely, turning the world into a hazy blur of heat and motion and him.
Bucky groans, the sound ragged and broken, hips stuttering as your desperate vibrations ripple through him.
âFuck, look at you,â he rasps, thumb smearing the spit on your chin, âdrooling down my cock, glasses completely steamed up like weâre shooting a goddamn porno. You love this, donât you? First time on your knees and youâre already our perfect little slut, choking and shaking for it.â
You pull off with a wet pop, gasping, tears and spit stringing from your swollen lips to his cock, glasses opaque.
Buckyâs hands cup your face, gentle now. He slides your glasses off slowly, folding them with reverence, setting them on the nightstand. For the first time tonight they see you completely bare-faced.
Steve lifts his head from between your thighs, mouth glistening, lips swollen and red, eyes pitch-black with lust.
âJesus, doll,â Bucky whispers, voice shredded. âYouâre even sexier like this, no glasses, just⊠fuck, those eyes.â He tilts your chin higher, forcing you to meet Steveâs hungry stare. âLook at her, Stevie. Look how fucking gorgeous she is when sheâs wrecked for us.â
Steve rises slowly, hands still dripping with you, and cups your face like youâre something fragile and priceless. His thumbs smear the wetness across your cheekbones, reverent.
âGorgeous,â he breathes, voice hushed with awe. âSo fucking beautiful without them.â His forehead rests against yours for a heartbeat, eyes locked on you like heâs memorizing this version of you, wrecked and bare. âShouldâve taken âem off hours ago, baby. Needed to see you like this the whole damn time.â
You blink up at them, suddenly shy without the shield of your frames, cheeks burning hotter than ever.
Bucky kisses your forehead, tender. âGlasses stay on next time so we can watch you fall apart behind them. But right now? We wanna see every inch of you when you come undone.â
Steve lifts you onto the bed, sheets cool and crisp against your back. He climbs over you, missionary, knees forcing your thighs wider until the lace tops of your stockings dig in.
The head of his cock drags through your folds, slicking itself in your wetness, nudging your clit until you whimper. âFeel how hard you make me?â he rasps. âThis cockâs been aching for your pussy since that water spill.â
He lines up, eyes locked on yours, no glasses, nothing between you now. âTell me you want it, sweetheart. First time with someone who actually gives a shit about making you feel good.â
You nod, breathless. âWant you both. Please.â
âReady?â he asks, voice raw.
âPlease,â you beg, hips lifting. âFuck me.â
He pushes in slow, inch by inch, the stretch burning, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. You gasp, nails raking his shoulders. He bottoms out with a groan, balls pressed tight to your ass, the fullness overwhelming.
âSo fucking tight,â he rasps, pulling back until just the head remains, then sliding in again, slow, deliberate, letting you feel every vein. âThis pussy was made for me. Look at you taking every inch like a good girl.â
Bucky drops to his knees beside you, foil ripped open, latex already rolled down his thick length. He fists himself once, slow and lazy, eyes locked on you while his free hand guides your trembling body back against the mattress.
He leans in, mouth closing hot and wet around one aching nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking, teeth scraping just enough to make you arch off the bed with a broken gasp.
âWatch him fuck you,â he murmurs, lips brushing the stiff, wet peak. âKeep those pretty eyes open and watch Steveâs fat cock disappear inside your cunt inch by inch.â His voice drops to a filthy growl against your skin. âGonna be so fucking pretty stretched around him.â
Steveâs rhythm turns relentless, hips snapping forward with deep, measured strokes that rock the bedframe in a steady, creaking groan. Sweat beads on his brow, one hot drop breaking free to splatter against your chest, sliding down between your breasts.
His hand wedges between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit without hesitation. He circles it hard and sure, matching every thrust, the pressure perfect and unforgiving until your back bows and your breath fractures into sharp, desperate cries.
âCome for me, baby,â he growls. âLet me feel this pussy squeeze me. Wanna feel you milk my dick.â
Bucky switches nipples, biting gently, then soothing with his tongue. âYouâre gonna come so hard for us,â he says. âGonna ruin these sheets with how wet you are.â
The dual sensations, cock dragging inside you, thumb on your clit, mouth on your tits, send you over. You come hard, walls clamping down, a gush of wetness soaking Steveâs cock and the sheets beneath you.
Your scream rips out raw and desperate, half-buried in the pillow as your whole body seizes, pussy clamping down hard around him in waves.
âThatâs it,â Steve growls, voice shredded, hips never slowing as he fucks you straight through the climax. âFuck, yes, soak me, baby, drench my cock.â He slams deep one last time, grinding against you, riding every pulse. âGood fucking girl, coming so hard for us.â
He pulls out, flipping you onto your hands and knees. Bucky lines up behind you, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, slick, hot, teasing your entrance. âGonna fuck you like this,â he says, voice rough. âGonna make this pussy remember me.â
He pushes in slow, the angle different, deeper. You cry out, fingers clawing the sheets. He bottoms out, balls pressed to your clit, and stills. âToo much, doll?â
âNo,â you gasp. âMove- please.â
He does, long, slow strokes that drag over every sensitive spot inside you. His hands grip your hips, fingers bruising, pulling you back onto him with every thrust.
The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with your broken moans. âListen to that,â he groans. âHear how wet you are? This cuntâs fucking dripping for me. You love getting fucked like a slut, donât you?â
Steve kneels in front, feeding you his cock again, tasting of latex and your own release. You take him deep, gagging, saliva dripping down your chin. He groans, guiding your head. âSuck it, baby. Suck my cock while he reams your pussy. Fuck, your mouthâs so hot.â
They find a rhythm, Bucky thrusting into your pussy, Steve fucking your mouth. The fullness is overwhelming, every nerve alight.
Buckyâs balls slap your clit with every stroke, sending jolts up your spine. âGonna come again?â he says. âGonna squirt all over my dick? Do it, doll, let go.â
You do, harder this time, squirting around him, soaking his thighs and the sheets. He growls, thrusting faster. âFuck, yes, thatâs my girl.â He slams in deep, hips stuttering, filling the condom with a guttural groan. âTake it, take every drop.â
He pulls out carefully, tying off the condom and tossing it aside. Steve lifts you, turning you to face away from Bucky.
âYour turn to ride,â Bucky says, lying back on the mattress, cock still hard in its fresh condom. âReverse cowgirl, doll. Sit on this dick and show us what youâve got.â
Your legs are jelly, but Steve helps you straddle Bucky backwards, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The thigh-highs have slipped halfway down your thighs, lace bunched and damp.
Buckyâs hands grip your ass, spreading you open, the cool air hitting your soaked entrance. âLook at this pretty pussy,â he groans. âAll swollen and dripping. Lower yourself slow, fuck yes.â
You reach between your legs, guiding the thick head to your entrance. The stretch is immediate, burning as you sink down inch by inch, the angle letting him hit deeper than before.
Your walls flutter around him, still sensitive from the last orgasm. âSo fucking full,â you whimper, voice cracking.
Buckyâs hands slide to your hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. âThatâs it, take every inch. Feel me splitting you open? This cockâs gonna ruin you for anyone else.â He thrusts up gently, making you gasp. âBounce for me, doll. Ride me like you mean it.â
You start moving, tentative at first, lifting and dropping, the wet schlick of your pussy swallowing him filling the room. Your tits jiggle with every motion, nipples hard and aching.
Steve stands on the bed in front of you, feeding you his cock again, hot, salty, slick with your earlier release. âSuck me while you fuck him,â he growls. âShow us how greedy this mouth is.â
You take him deep, gagging as Buckyâs cock hits that spot inside you with every bounce. The dual fullness, Bucky stretching your pussy, Steve filling your throat, makes your head spin.
Buckyâs hands guide your hips faster, the slap of your ass against his thighs loud and obscene. âFuck, look at you,â he groans. âRiding my dick like a goddamn porn star. This pussyâs gripping me so tight, gonna make you squirt again.â
Steveâs fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your mouth. âThatâs it, baby. Choke on my cock while he fucks you senseless. Youâre ours now, every hole, every drop.â
Buckyâs thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight, filthy circles. âCome on, doll,â he pants. âSquirt all over me. Soak this cock, let me feel it.â The pressure builds fast, too fast, your walls clenching, thighs trembling.
You pull off Steveâs cock with a gasp, screaming as you come, a hot gush of wetness spraying out around Buckyâs cock, soaking his abs, the sheets, your thighs. The sensation is overwhelming, your vision blurring with tears.
âFuck, yes!â Bucky roars, thrusting up hard, chasing his release. âThatâs my girl, squirt for me, drown my dick.â He slams in deep, hips stuttering, filling the condom with a broken groan. âHoly shit, doll. Perfect.â
Steve pulls you off Bucky gently, your legs shaking too hard to hold you. He lays you on your back, spreading your thighs wide, your pussy swollen, glistening, dripping with your own release. âOne more,â he says, voice soft but wrecked. âGonna fuck you till you canât walk.â
He slides in slow, the glide easy from how soaked you are, condom slick with you. He fucks you slow at first, then harder, the headboard knocking against the wall.
Bucky kneels beside you, kissing you deep, tongue lazy, tasting you. His fingers pinch your nipples, rolling them until youâre sobbing from overstimulation. âYouâre so fucking perfect,â he murmurs. âTaking us both like a champ. This pussyâs ours now.â
Steveâs thumb finds your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. âCome with me, sweetheart,â he rasps. âOne more time. Let me feel you fall apart.â
You do, shattering, walls pulsing, another gush of wetness soaking him. He follows with a broken groan, hips stuttering, collapsing over you, hot, heavy, panting.
Steve ties off the condom with a practiced flick, the latex snapping sharp before he knots it and tosses it into the trash under the desk, thunk. Heâs already reaching for another foil packet, the crinkle loud in the quiet room, and drops it on the nightstand like a loaded promise.
His chest rises and falls hard, sweat gleaming on the cut lines of muscle, blond hair plastered to his forehead in damp strands. He looks wrecked and reverent all at once.
He leans over you, lips brushing your temple, breath scorching. âJesus, sweetheart,â he rasps, voice raw with wonder. âYou took us both like you were made for it. So fucking proud of you.â
Bucky slips from the bed, bare ass flexing as he pads to the mini-fridge. The carpet is soft under his feet; the door creaks, cold air spilling out and raising goosebumps across your thighs.
He grabs a water bottle, twists the cap and takes a long swallow, throat working, then offers it to you. Condensation drips onto your chest, icy against fevered skin; your nipples tighten instantly.
âDrink, doll,â he murmurs, rough but gentle.
You sip, throat scraped raw, a little water slipping down your chin. Steve takes the bottle next, drinks deep, passes it back. They move like theyâve done this a hundred times, wordless, whipped, eyes never leaving you.
Bucky disappears into the bathroom, comes back with a warm washcloth steaming faintly of eucalyptus. He kneels between your shaky thighs, spreads them with careful hands, and wipes you clean in slow, worshipful strokes. The cloth glides over your swollen folds, your tender clit, the sticky mess on your inner thighs. Every pass is soft, soothing, filthy in its intimacy.
Then he pauses, smirks, and picks up your glasses from the nightstand. One lens is streaked with a cloudy smear, your squirt, dried in a perfect arc.
âWell, shit,â Bucky drawls, holding them to the light. âLook what our little genius did to her own glasses.â
Steve leans in, grin slow and wicked. âFuck. Thatâs the hottest thing Iâve ever seen.â
You squeak, an actual, mortified squeak and try to disappear into the pillow. Your face is on fire, ears ringing, voice barely a breath. âS-stopâŠâ
Bucky drags his tongue across the lens in one deliberate swipe, eyes locked on yours. âTastes like you baby,â he says, low and dirty. âSweet, salty perfection.â
Steve groans. âJesus Buck, you're going to kill herâ
You whimper, thighs trembling, arousal and embarrassment twisting tight in your belly.
Bucky crawls up the bed, kisses your burning cheek. âDonât hide it, baby. Own that pretty mess you made.â
Steve tugs one of his soft gray NYU tees over your head; it falls to mid-thigh, swallowing you in his scent, clean sweat and warm cotton. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder through the fabric. âYou okay? That was⊠intense.â
You nod, dazed, voice small and hoarse. âNever felt anything like that. Perfect.â
They tuck you between them like something precious. Steve spoons you from behind, heavy arm draped over your waist, calloused thumb tracing lazy circles on your hipbone. Bucky faces you, nose brushing yours, metal fingers combing gently through your tangled hair.
âYou sure we didnât go too hard?â Bucky asks, voice velvet-rough, all earlier fire banked into something soft and worried.
You shake your head, sleepy, blissed-out. âPerfect,â you whisper again.
Steveâs mouth finds the bruise blooming on your neck, kisses it like itâs sacred. âBest tutor in the world,â he murmurs against your skin, lips dragging slow, wet. âSo proud of you, baby.â
Bucky feeds you half a protein bar, chocolate peanut butter, sweet and salty. Crumbs tumble onto the sheets; Steve brushes them from your lip and licks the chocolate off his thumb, then kisses you soft and slow.
âMessy girl,â he teases, fond.
Bucky tucks the fleece blanket around your feet, fingers lingering on the lace tops of your thigh-highs. âLeaving these on?â He snaps the band lightly, grins. âLooks like youâre still ready for round two.â
You hum, too floaty to form words.
Steveâs lips brush the shell of your ear, breath hot. âNext time⊠weâre playing with this perfect little ass.â
Your eyes snap open.
Steveâs lips graze your ear, breath scalding. âWeâll start slow. Warm lube dripping down your thighs while youâre on your knees. Iâll spread you open, watch that pretty virgin hole flutter when the cold tip kisses it. Just the tip at first, slow circles till youâre pushing back, begging for more.â
Buckyâs fingers drift lower, tracing the curve of your ass, feather-light. âThen one finger. Just the pad, teasing, till youâre soaked and whining. Second finger scissoring slow, stretching you open while Stevie licks your clit till you see stars. By the time the plug slides home youâll be coming so hard you fog these glasses again.â
Steveâs hand joins Buckyâs, both of them circling that tight, untouched ring with slick fingers, barely pressing, just enough to make you clench and whimper.
âFeel how greedy you already are?â Steve rasps. âGonna train this perfect ass till it takes the plug like it was made for it. Youâll wear it to class, to the library, to every fucking tutoring session. Every time you sit down youâll feel us owning you.â
You make a strangled sound, half panic, half desperate heat, and hide your face in Buckyâs neck. He smells like smoke and sex and safety.
Bucky chuckles, low and fond. âShy little thing. But your pussyâs dripping again, doll. You love the idea.â
Steve presses one fingertip just inside, barely breaching, enough to make you gasp and arch. âNo pain,â he promises against your nape, voice soft. âJust fullness. Pleasure. Gonna make you squirt from both holes at once, baby. Want you so stuffed you canât think straight.â
Bucky kisses your burning cheek. âAnd when youâre ready for the real thing? Weâll lay you just like this, one cock in your pussy, slow and deep, the other easing into your ass inch by inch till youâre sobbing from how good it feels. Youâll come so hard weâll need new sheets. And then weâll slide that pretty pink plug in to keep you full of us all night.â
Your whole body is trembling now, thighs slick, breath coming in tiny, overwhelmed pants. âThatâs⊠so dirty,â you whisper, voice cracking.
Steve nips your shoulder, soothing the sting with his tongue. âDirty and perfect. Gonna ruin you so gently youâll thank us for every stretch.â
Youâre trembling, blushing so hard youâre dizzy, but the word slips out tiny and shaky. âM-maybe⊠if itâs pink⊠and youâre gentleâŠâ
They both groan, wrecked.
âFuck,â Bucky breathes, kissing you deep and slow. âGonna ruin us both.â
Steve presses closer, lips on your neck, voice a vow. âWorth it.â
You drift, floating in the cage of their arms, heartbeat steady against Steveâs chest, Buckyâs fingers laced with yours. The room smells like sex and eucalyptus and them.
Steve murmurs into your hair, so quiet you almost miss it. âNever letting her go.â
Buckyâs lips brush your temple. âOurs now. Gonna ruin her slow and sweet. Next time those glasses are getting another coat, pink plug in her ass while she comes so hard she cries.â
You sigh in your sleep, smiling, flushed, wrecked, utterly theirs.
Dick, age 11, out of nowhere in the middle of after patrol reviews: So, you and Y/N are a couple, but youâre not married?
Bruce, lifting his head from the computer and frowning in confusion: No. Weâre not a couple.
Dick, now confused: Youâre not a couple?
Bruce, turning back to the computer: No.
Dick: âŠ
Bruce: âŠ
Dick: But you and her adopted me. Together. Sheâs Mom.
Bruce, without looking up: Yes, but weâre not a couple. Weâve been friends for many years.
Dick: But you love her.
Bruce, without thinking: Yes.
Dick: Then youâre going to be a couple!!
Bruce, spinning his chair to look at him, startled by how fast this escalated: No, weâre friends, and we love each other as friends.
Dick: But you act like a couple. You adopted me. And you already said you love her. Plus, Iâve seen you sleep in her room when you canât sleep. And thatâs something couples do. So, you are a couple, or youâre going to be one!!
Bruce, panicking: NO, NO, NO. We are not a couple, and we never will be.
Dick, frowning: Why not?
Bruce: Itâs complicated.
Dick: âŠ
Dick, dead serious: More complicated than you being Batman, her knowing it, and helping you from the cave to fight crime without dying in the process?
Bruce, completely certain: Yes.
Dick: âŠ
Bruce: âŠ
Dick: âŠ
Dick, throwing his arms dramatically around: How can it be more complicated than THIS?!?!
Bruce, sighing tiredly, clearly without an answer: I donât know.
Dick, collapsing dramatically into his chair: âŠ
Bruce, turning back to the computer: âŠ
Dick: âŠ
Bruce: âŠ
Dick: Is it because youâre scared of her?
Bruce: Silence, Dick.
Dick: It's okay!! Iâm scared of her sometimes, too. The other day I ate one of Alfredâs cookiesâthe chocolate chip onesâafter patrol without asking, and she scolded me, and wow, sheâs scary when sheâs mad-
(Dick keeps talking for at least half an hour about it, insisting that if they got married she probably wouldnât be that scary when angry, and Bruce goes to bed early for the first time in all his years as Batmanâjust to escape the topic and the kidâs endless theories about how he has to marry his best friend.)
warnings: explicit sexual content 18+, oral, praise kink, sir kink, dirty talk, light dom/sub, uniform kink, mutual obsession, neighbors may hear things, thirsty calendar discovery scene
summary: youâve been setting off your smoke alarm on purpose just to get sergeant barnes at your door â broad shoulders, wet gear, and all. but tonight, the game catches up to you.
authors note: happy 2,000 followers to me! this fic is near and dear to my heart as its loosly based off of one of the VERY FIRST concepts i wrote for bucky barnes. theres just something about a man in uniform.... đđ„
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It starts with rain.
The kind that doesnât fall so much as hammers, drumming on the roof of your building like knuckles on a locked door. You can hear it in your kitchen, the steady, heavy rhythm, the hiss of streetwater kicked up by passing cars like waves. The cityâs been soaked all day, and now the evening air sits thick and tense, humid the way it gets right before a summer storm breaks into something mean.
It wouldâve been a perfect night to behave.
To pretend youâre normal. To heat up soup. To watch something brainless. To go to bed early and not think about him.
You last about twelve minutes.
Then youâre standing in the kitchen barefoot and guilty, biting your lip and staring up at the little black, circular plastic eye in the corner near the ceiling.
The smoke detector.
Your smoke detector.
Your stupid little red button that brings you James Buchanan Barnes.
You tell yourself youâre not going to. You tell yourself, no, you absolutely cannot, because last time Sam Wilson (loud, funny, deeply nosy) had narrowed his eyes in the hallway and gone, âHuh, princess, this is what, the third âemergency callâ this month? You runninâ a grill in your living room or something?â
And Bucky had cut him a look, one brow ticking, and said, âWilson,â in that low warning way.
Wilson had smirked at you. âMmmhmm. Just makinâ conversation.â
Youâd laughed it off. Youâd said something about cheap wiring in old buildings. Youâd shrugged and hugged yourself in your doorway and tried very, very hard not to look at Buckyâs soaked turnout jacket clinging to his shoulders, or the way he stripped his gloves off with his teeth.
But youâd seen it. Youâre pretty sure heâd seen you seeing it. And youâre not dumb.
You know youâre playing with matches.
You also know you want to get burned.
You close your eyes, breathe in, breathe out, and whisper to your empty apartment, âOkay. Okay. Last time. Last time and then Iâll stop.â
Youâre a liar.
You drag the chair from the table over to the stove. The chair legs squeal against linoleum, too loud in the quiet kitchen. Your heartbeat hitches. You climb up, stretching on your toes, and reach for the battery housing inside the little circular alarm.
But you donât take the battery out.
You nudge the test toggle just wrong. Just enough to loosen the casing.
You know exactly how to make it scream now. Practice makes perfect.
Then you step off the chair, pad back to the stove, and turn the front-left burner on high.
Thereâs a pan on it. Dry.
You leave it there.
You donât even put oil this timeâthat had been messy, last time; youâd had to open both windows and wave a dish towel around like you were landing a plane.
Instead you just leave metal on heat, let it sit, let it cook and cook and cook until the scent starts to change. It goes from clean to warm to oh, thatâs probably not good in less than a minute. By two and a half minutes, you see the first thin ripples rise from the pan like heat mirage. Little curls of smoke.
You swallow.
Your heart is already beating stupid fast, and theyâre not even here yet.
âGod, youâre pathetic,â you mutter to yourself, pacing in a small nervous circle. âYouâre actually deranged. Youâre out of control. You areââ
The alarm goes off.
It doesnât chirp; it screams.
That high, piercing, shattering shriek fills your apartment in a single breath. You jump and wince, lunging for the front door because youâve done this before and you know whatâs coming next. Your buildingâs alarm system is tied into the local station for âfast response to potential structure fires,â which is good for the neighborhood and terrible for your self-control.
You swing the deadbolt back and leave the door unlocked.
Your hands are shaking.
Oh my god. Oh my god heâs going toâ
The hall alarm starts up a second later. Someone from down the hall yells âWhat the fuck!â over the wail of it. You flinch and duck back into your kitchen, twist the stove off, yank the pan onto a cold burner.
Okay. Okay, okay.
Breathless, you grab the nearest dish towel and start waving beneath the alarm to âtry to clear the smoke.â You know it wonât silence itâonly maintenance has the code for that. Youâre not even really doing anything useful.
Youâre just trying to look innocent.
Heavy boots on stairs.
You hear them even over the alarm. The stomp, stomp, stomp of trained hurry. The low voices. The clipped âWatch your corners, itâs this floor,â youâve grown embarrassingly familiar with.
Then:
A knock, hard and authoritative.
âFire department!â
You can feel the grind of that voice in your spine.
You toss the towel, spin around, and try to pull your sleep shirt down a little lower on your thighs before you open the door.
And there he is.
Jesus Christ.
Even if you hadnât seen him before, even if you hadnât engineered this, you would know him on sight. Heâs not the tallest on his crew, but he looks like the center of gravity. Heâs built wideâshoulders that block half the hallway, thick arms roped with muscle, turnout coat open at the collar and hanging heavy off his frame, still damp from either the rain or whatever call they were on before you. Maybe both. His dark hair is pushed back, a little mussed, rain-wet at the edges. His jaw is set. His mouth is a hard line. Thereâs a streak of black on his cheekbone where soot had mixed with sweat. His eyes, glacial blue, cut straight to you, then sweep past you into your apartment in one practiced scan.
You meet his eyes on instinct.
Something tightens, electric.
âHi,â you say, too fast, too breathy.
One of his crew, the same loud one from last time, leans around him to peer in. âMaâam, you got an activeâ...â Sam stops. Looks at the cold pan on the stove. Looks at the faint haze in the air. Looks back to you, then to Bucky. His mouth curls. âOh, come on. Again?â
You suck in a breath, trying to look offended, or at least confused. âThe stove justâ I was makingâ it started smoking and the alarm justââ
âUh-huh,â Sam says, unimpressed. Heâs grinning, though. âBarnes, you wanna walk her through Fire Safety 101 again, or should I? I got charts in the truck.â
âWilson,â Bucky says without even looking back.
Just his voice can make âWilsonâ sound like shut up.
Samâs grin widens. âCopy that, Sarge.â
Bucky steps forward. Automatically, you step back. He fills your doorway on instinct, one gloved hand braced high against the jamb as he leans in.
He smells like rain and smoke and clean laundry. You could drown in it.
âYou okay?â he asks you, quiet, like thereâs nothing else in the hallway. His tone shifts when he looks at you, always. Youâve noticed that. With Sam and the others heâs all clipped command; with you heâs lower, softer, threaded with warmth he pretends he doesnât have.
Your stomach flips.
âYes,â you manage. âIâmâ Iâm fine. Iâm sorry.â
He nods once, eyes flicking over you, and youâre suddenly hyper-aware of what youâre wearing: an oversized sleep shirt with your college logo and absolutely nothing else. No bra. No shorts. Nothing covering the way the fabric skims down over your hips and barely catches the lowest curve of your ass.
A flush crawls up your chest.
You cross your arms over your chest in what you hope is a casual move, but his eyes catch it. They flick down, then up again. His jaw tightens the smallest bit.
Oh.
Oh.
Your pulse stutters.
Bucky glances over his shoulder. âWilson, clear the hall, tell âem theyâre good. Iâll reset her unit.â
âYes, sir,â Sam says cheerfully, and then heâs clapping another firefighter on the shoulder and disappearing down the hall, calling, âFalse alarm, folks, everybody relax, nobodyâs burning aliveâyet.â
The alarm keeps screaming, echoing against the narrow walls. Your neighbors are muttering. Doors crack open, then shut again.
And then itâs just you and Bucky in your doorway in the pounding, relentless sound.
âBack up for me, sweetheart,â he says.
Sweetheart.
You feel it like a hand at the back of your neck.
You back up.
He steps inside with you, shuts the door with his boot, and just like that, you and Bucky Barnes are alone in your apartment for the first time.
The second the door shuts, the noise dullsâless piercing, more like being underwater. You can still hear the alarm from the hall, but in here itâs only your unit wailing.
Bucky peels off one glove with his teeth, then the other with his bare hand. You watch that hand. Heâs got big hands. Veins, calluses, blunt square fingers. His left hand, the one with the dark leather glove, comes off slowerâitâs a metal prosthetic, gleaming dull matte under the fluorescents. Youâve seen that, too. Youâve thought about it too many times. Youâve thought about what that would feel like between yourâ
âShow me,â he says.
You blink up at him. âShow youâŠ?â
âThe stove,â he prompts patiently. His jaw is tight. âThe fire hazard. Doll.â
Heat pools low in you at that last word. Doll.
You swallow and turn, padding quickly to the kitchen, acutely aware of him following, of the soft jingle of gear at his belt, the weight of his presence at your back like heat off a furnace.
âItâs off now,â you babble, nerves spilling out of you in words. âI justâI honestly donât know what happened, I just turned around and it started smoking and then the whole thing went off andââ
âMmhmm,â he says, which does not sound like he believes you. âStep back.â
You step aside.
He leans over your stove, inspecting. Rainwater drips from the hem of his coat onto your floor. His shirt under the open jacket, dark navy department issue, stretches obscenely over his back and shoulders when he bends forward.
You bite your lip.
He reaches out, puts two fingers to the still-warm pan, then tuts under his breath.
You freeze.
You know what that sound is. Youâve heard it twice now. Thatâs not oh god this is dangerous. Thatâs that little disappointed noise he makes right before he lectures you.
Your stomach swoops. You love that noise.
He straightens slowly. Turns to you. Crosses his arms over his chest.
âDâyou think Iâm stupid?â he asks mildly.
Your mouth opens. âIââ
âYou think I canât tell the difference between a kitchen fire and you cooking fuckinâ nothing in a dry pan until it smokes?â
Your face goes nuclear.
Your lips move silently for a second. âIâ I wasnâtâ I didnâtââ
His brow lifts, and itâs obscene, the way just that can make your knees want to wobble. âYou wanna try that again with an answer that isnât a lie, menace?â
Menace.
Your breath catches.
You should feel embarrassed. You should feel caught. You should feel anything except the hot, dragging ache low in your belly, the one that pulses every time he uses that tone on you.
You whisper, âI like when you come.â
Silence.
The alarm is still shrieking overhead. Rain still hammers the windows. Your heart is in your throat.
Bucky just looks at you.
For one long, dizzying second, his face doesnât change. Then, slowly, his mouth curves.
Not a smile.
Something darker.
Something that sees you.
âYeah,â he says softly. âI figured that out.â
Your lungs forget how to work.
He takes a step toward you.
You donât move.
âYou know what happens,â he murmurs, voice dropping, âout there, when we get a call like this?â
You swallow. Your throat is dry. âYou⊠show up?â
He huffs a quiet laugh. âWe gear up,â he says, like heâs telling you a story. âWe roll out emergency. Lights. Siren. My guys put on forty pounds of equipment in under sixty seconds, sweetheart. We run. In the rain, in the dark, in traffic. Because that alarm says somebody might be burning alive.â
Your stomach twists. Guilt flares for a split second, sharp and bright.
Then heâs close enough that you can feel the heat of him on your bare thighs and you lose the ability to think.
âAnd then,â he continues, eyes on yours, voice low and unhurried even while your alarm screams, âwe get here and itâs you again, wearing nothinâ but a fuckinâ t-shirt and big eyes, and you tell meââ he tilts his headâ âoh no, Sergeant Barnes, I have no idea what happened, Iâm just so scared.â
Your face is so hot youâre surprised youâre not setting off sparks.
âIâ I never said âSergeant,ââ you whisper, too honest.
He laughs. Low. That same not-smile pulls at his mouth again. âNo,â he says. âYou never did. You just looked at me like you wanted to climb me like a ladder and said âthank you for coming, sir.ââ
Your knees almost go out.
You remember that night. You remember saying it. You remember how his jaw had clenched when you did.
âYou know we could fine you?â he asks conversationally, like heâs talking about the weather and not about your impending moral collapse. âFalse call like this? You can get cited.â
âI know,â you whisper.
âYou know what a citation looks like?â
You shake your head.
He leans in.
âIt looks like me,â he murmurs, âin your apartment at nine p.m. explaining fire code to you line by line. Real slow.â
Your breath catches on a quiet, involuntary sound.
His eyes spark.
âYeah,â he says, voice roughening. âThatâs what I thought.â
Your thighs press together. You canât help it.
Buckyâs gaze flicks down. Follows the movement. Stays there. When he looks back up, something in his face is different. Less restraint. More hunger.
The alarm screams and screams.
âHereâs whatâs gonna happen,â he says quietly. âIâm gonna reset your alarm. Iâm gonna radio dispatch and tell âem false alarm, no emergency, situation contained. And then,â he continues, so soft you almost miss it under the noise, âyouâre gonna tell me the truth.â
Your mouth is dry. âThe truth?â
âThat you did this on purpose.â His eyes donât leave yours. âThat you wanted me here.â
Like he doesnât already know.
You nod.
âAnd,â he adds, voice dropping into something that makes your stomach flip, âyouâre gonna tell me what you want now that youâve got me.â
You cannot breathe.
A tremor runs through you from scalp to toes. âBuckyââ
âMm.â He tuts again, but his eyes are heat. âThatâs not how youâve been talkinâ to me, is it?â
You feel it all the way down. âSergeant,â you whisper, breathless.
God, the way his pupils blow at that.
âGood girl,â he says, like praise, like reward.
You almost come on the spot.
He steps away from you before your legs give out and moves with efficient calm you canât begin to fake. He reaches up, twists something in the housing of your alarm with one sure hand, and the wail cuts off mid-scream.
The sudden quiet rings.
Your ears buzz in the absence. You sag against the counter and try to get your lungs back.
He unclips the radio mic at his shoulder, presses the button, and speaks in that calm, professional tone that makes you weak. âDispatch, this is Engine 41, Barnes. False alarm, Unit 3B. No visible fire, no active smoke. Resident attempted to cook, pan overheated, alarm tripped. Weâve reset the unit. You can clear us.â
Thereâs static, then a crackle of confirmation. You barely hear it. Youâre watching his throat as he talks. The way his Adamâs apple moves. The faint stubble along his jaw. The way his mouth shapes âBarnes.â
He re-clips his mic. Looks back at you.
Youâre still braced against your counter, thighs pressed together, heart going way too fast.
He takes his time peeling his turnout coat off. He doesnât break eye contact. The heavy, reflective-striped jacket slides off his broad shoulders slow and deliberate, revealing all of him in that dark navy tee. Itâs soaked at the collar, rain-dark over his chest and sleeves, clinging to muscle. His biceps flex with the movement. A heavy black strap crosses his chest, part of his harness. His utility belt sits low on his hips.
He hangs the coat over the back of one of your kitchen chairs with military neatness.
Then he steps back into your space.
âNow,â he says softly. âTruth.â
Your mouth opens. Closes. Your heartbeat is hammering so hard you feel a little lightheaded.
âIââ you start.
His brows twitch. âNot a great start, menace,â he murmurs.
You exhale in a little rush. âI wanted you.â
He hums. âYeah?â
âI wanted you to come,â you say, cheeks blazing but thereâs no way out now, âand I wanted you to yell at me and I wanted you toâ I justâ I wanted you.â
His eyes go dark, hungry.
âFuck,â he breathes.
His right handâbig, warm, humanâcomes up, cups your jaw. Not hard. Just holding. His thumb drags slow along your lower lip, presses there until your mouth parts.
âThereâs somethinâ else,â he says quietly. âSomethinâ else youâre not sayinâ yet.â
You shiver. âBuckyââ
âSergeant.â
âSergeant,â you whisper, dizzy. âPlease.â
His jaw flexes.
âPlease what?â he asks, his voice so soft it almost hurts.
âPlease touch me,â you whisper.
Something breaks in his eyes.
And then heâs kissing you.
Itâs not gentle.
His mouth hits yours like heâs been holding back for weeks and lost the leash in one second. His grip on your jaw tightens, angling you up, and his other hand slides to your hip, dragging you in against him with zero hesitation.
You gasp into his mouth. He swallows it.
He tastes like clean mint and rain and smoke.
You whimper and grab at his shirt, fisting the soaked fabric at his chest, clinging. Heâs solid like a wall. Heat pours off him. He groans, low in his throat, when you open for him, and then his tongue is in your mouth, slow and sure and claiming.
Youâve kissed men before. Youâve never been kissed like this.
This feels like being cornered in the best possible way. Like being owned.
You moan.
He growls.
âOh,â Sam says brightly from your doorway, âoh, wow, okay, so this is what weâre doing, cool cool cool, love that for you two, Iâm gonna go tell dispatch weâre doing an extended safety inspection, carry onââ
The door slams.
You jerk back, mortified, breathless. âOh my godââ
Bucky doesnât even look away from you. His thumb strokes under your chin, coaxing you to look at him, dragging you back in. His pupils are blown so wide they almost eat the blue.
âEyes on me,â he says quietly. âNot on Wilson.â
Your head snaps back like heâs got a grip on your hair.
âYes, sir,â you whisper before you can stop yourself.
A muscle in his jaw jumps. You feel his hand on your hip tighten, fingers digging into bare skin through your shirt.
âFuck,â he mutters again, almost like it hurts. âOkay. Okay, sweetheart. You wanna play games with firemen? You get the fireman.â
You make a needy noise that doesnât sound like you. âPleaseââ
âShh.â He leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then just under your ear. His breath is hot on your neck. âWeâre gonna do this right.â
Youâre shaking.
âI need two things from you,â he murmurs against your throat, kissing his way down, slow, deliberate. âYouâre gonna give âem to me and then Iâll give you whatever you want. Sound fair?â
You nod frantically.
âWords, menace,â he chides softly.
âYes,â you gasp. âYes, Sergeant.â
He hums, pleased. You feel the sound against your skin. âGood girl.â
You squeeze your thighs together helplessly.
âFirst,â he says, voice low, âyouâre gonna tell me if you want me to stop. Any time. âStopâ means stop. You say it, I step back. We clear?â
âYes,â you breathe, chest heaving. âClear.â
He presses a kiss to your throat, soft, like reward. âSecond,â he murmurs, mouth moving against the frantic flutter of your pulse, âyouâre gonna be honest when I ask you questions. You lie to me again? Iâll put my coat back on and Iâll walk right out that door.â
Panic shoots through you so fast you gasp.
âI wonât lie,â you blurt, desperate. âI wonât, I swear, I wonât, justâ donât leave.â
He exhales a quiet curse thatâs basically a groan. âJesus Christ,â he mutters against your skin. âYouâre gonna kill me.â
Then his hands are on you.
Both of them.
And you learn, very fast, what it feels like to be handled by James Buchanan Barnes.
His right hand, warm and rough, fists in the hem of your shirt and drags it up in one smooth motion. His leftâmetal, cool and impossibly steadyâslides down over your hip and under the edge, palming your bare ass like heâs been waiting to.
You squeak.
He grins against your throat. âYeah?â he murmurs. âThat what you wanted, doll? You wanted the big, scary firefighter to put his hands on you?â
Youâre not sure if you whimper or nod. Probably both.
He pulls your shirt up, up, over your ribs, over your head. You raise your arms without thinking, dizzy and pliant. He tangles you for one clumsy second, laughing softly under his breath when the shirt catches on your elbow, then tosses it somewhere behind you with zero concern.
Youâre naked in your own kitchen in front of him. Bare and shaking and wet between your thighs already.
His breath leaves him in a harsh exhale.
âFuck me,â he says quietly, reverent and filthy at once.
You flush from scalp to sternum.
His gaze drags down slowly, like a hand. Your throat. Your collarbone. Your breastsâhe groans, actual, honest groan, when he sees you, like youâre some kind of miracle. His tongue flicks over his lower lip. His jaw flexes. He drags his stare down your belly, to the soft curve there, the dip of your waist, the way your thighs press together, already damp at the seam.
You squirm, suddenly shy under the scrutiny.
His eyes snap back up to yours instantly.
âDonât,â he says softly. Thereâs heat in it. Warning. âDonât you hide from me now. You hear me?â
You nod, dizzy.
âWords,â he says gently, patient even through the hunger in his eyes.
âI hear you,â you whisper.
His mouth twitches. âGood girl.â
You feel that praise like itâs physical.
He leans in and kisses you again, slower now. Deep and claiming, yes, but he slows the roll of his tongue, learning your mouth, mapping it. His hands bracket your hipsâone warm, one coolâholding you steady as he licks into you until youâre making those soft, helpless noises again.
When he pulls back, you chase him without thinking.
He smiles. âNeedy,â he murmurs, and it sounds like approval.
Your face burns. âYou said honesty.â
âI did,â he agrees. âSo youâre gonna be real honest with me right now, okay?â
You nod, breathless. âOkay.â
âHave you touched yourself thinkinâ about me?â
You let out a tiny, strangled sound.
His brows lift. âThat a yes?â
You squeeze your eyes shut. âYes,â you whisper.
âHow many times?â
Your brain goes white.
âIâ I donâtââ You swallow. âA lot.â
He hums, pleased. âYeah? You get yourself nice and wet thinkinâ about me showinâ up in my gear?â
You whimper. You canât help it. âYes.â
âThinkinâ about me bendinâ you over that counter and teachinâ you a lesson?â
âOh my god,â you croak.
He laughs under his breath, low and delighted. âYeah,â he says softly. âThatâs what I thought.â
His right hand, warm and rough, skims up your side. Over your ribs, over the curve of your breast. He palms you there, big hand covering you almost entirely. His thumb drags over your nipple, slow, teasing.
You gasp, arching into him.
His eyes flick up to your face, watching you.
âThat feel good?â he asks quietly.
âYes,â you whisper, breathless.
âYeah?â His thumb circles, firmer now, and your knees actually wobble. âYou like my hands on you, doll?â
âGod, yes.â
âGood,â he murmurs, and leans in to put his mouth on your throat again.
He kisses down. Slow, unhurried, like heâs got you for hours. The rainâs still pounding outside; the world could be ending and he would still be right here, licking lazy heat along your pulse while his hand kneads your breast.
When he drags his teeth, just a little, along the curve where neck meets shoulder, you gasp and clutch at his shoulders.
He groans. âFuck, yeah, grab me,â he mutters against your skin. âHold on to me.â
You donât know if youâre standing or floating.
His mouth moves lower. Over your collarbone. Down. He pauses over your breast, glances up at you once, giving you a breath of space to say no.
You nod so fast youâre surprised you donât get whiplash. âPlease,â you gasp.
He smiles against your skin.
Then he sucks your nipple into his mouth.
Your head drops back with a gasp so sharp itâs almost a sob. âOhââ
He groans, low and filthy, like you taste good. His tongue flicks over you, slow and teasing, then harder, then he closes his teeth just barely, a whisper of pressure, and your stomach drops straight through the floor.
âSergeant,â you whine, high and desperate.
His groan rumbles against your breast. His metal hand tightens on your hip, cool and unyielding, keeping you right where he wants you when you try to squirm.
âThatâs it,â he mutters around you. âSay it again.â
âSergeant,â you gasp, clinging to his shoulders, nails digging into the soaked navy cotton. âOh my godââ
He switches to the other breast, giving it the same slow worship until youâre trembling and making noises youâve never heard from yourself. His mouth is hot, his stubble scraping just enough to make you feel raw in the best way.
By the time he drags himself away from your chest, youâre panting.
He looks up at you, lips slick, eyes dark. He looks wrecked. Hungry.
âYouâre fuckinâ perfect,â he says rough and honest. âYou understand me?â
You let out an embarrassing noise. âYouâre justâ youâre just saying thatââ
His expression sharpens, instantly. âNo,â he says, voice low and firm. âNo, maâam. Iâm not.â
You blink.
âYouâre perfect,â he repeats, softer but no less serious. âYouâre fuckinâ gorgeous. Iâve been losinâ sleep over you for three goddamn weeks. Donât you ever tell me Iâm âjust sayinâ thatâ again. You got me?â
Your throat closes.
You nod, a little watery. âYâyes.â
He leans up and kisses you, soft and sweet, like sealing it. Your chest aches.
âGood girl,â he whispers against your mouth.
You whine.
He feels it instantly, stills, and his voice drops to a quiet rumble.
âHey,â he murmurs. âYou good?â
You nod fast, dizzy. âYeah,â you whisper. âIâm good. I promise.â
Something in his eyes softens â a flicker of pride, or maybe relief.
âGood girl,â he says again, like a reward. And then his fingers slip between your thighs.
You choke on a gasp.
Youâre so wet youâre embarrassed. Slick and aching and hot. His fingertips drag through you and come away shining, and he hisses through his teeth when he sees.
âJesus Christ,â he mutters, like itâs a prayer. âLook at you. You been walkinâ around like this waitinâ for me to come put you out?â
âOh my god,â you groan, face on fire. âPlease donât say it like thatââ
He grins, wicked. âWhat, you donât like beinâ my little fire hazard?â
You let out a strangled sound that might be a laugh, might be a moan.
He drags two fingersâthick, callusedâup through your slick and circles your clit, gentle, lazy, barely-there pressure that still lights you up like a match.
Your knees go.
He catches you easily, metal hand tightening, hauling you in against his chest like you weigh nothing. âUh-uh,â he murmurs. âStay with me. I got you.â
âPlease,â you gasp, clutching at his shoulders. âPlease, I needââ
âI know what you need,â he soothes. âI know, sweetheart, I got you. Gonna take care of you now, okay? Finally gonna give you what youâve been begginâ for in that pretty little head.â
You whine, wordless.
âSpread for me,â he murmurs.
You do. You spread your thighs as far as you can with him still crowding you against the counter, shameless now, desperate.
âGood girl,â he breathes, genuinely pleased, and slides his fingers down, down, until heâs pressing one thick finger into you.
You gasp so loud youâre sure someone in the hall heard.
âYeah?â he mutters through gritted teeth, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second like the feel of you almost knocks him over. âFuck, youâre tight.â
âBuckyââ you choke, then catch yourself so fast you get dizzy. âSergeant, pleaseââ
His groan might actually hurt him. âSay my fuckinâ name like that again,â he mutters against your skin, âand Iâm gonna lose every bit of self-control I got left, you understand me?â
You nod frantically, clinging to him like youâll float away, because that sounds incredible. âYesâ ahâ yes, sirââ
He swears, low and filthy.
Then he starts moving his hand.
Itâs over for you.
He fucks you on his fingers slow and deep, not rushing, not pounding, just pressing in and curling, pressing and curling, finding that spot like heâs been here before. Like he was built to fit inside you and wring you out.
You make a noise that doesnât sound human.
âThat it, sweetheart?â he pants, eyes on your face even as his jaw clenches. âThat where you wanted me?â
âYes,â you sob. âYes, please, pleaseââ
âYeah,â he grits out. âBeen drivinâ me crazy, thinkinâ about this. You know that? Tryinâ to do my fuckinâ jobââ curl, press, curl ââand all I can think about is how youâd feel milkinâ my fingers like thisââ
You wail.
He laughs, breathless and so fond you could cry. âThere she is,â he mutters. âThereâs my little menace. Thatâs my girl.â
Your orgasm hits like a slammed door.
It takes you in one brutal rush, cresting and snapping all at once. You arch, cry out, clamp down around his fingers so hard youâre shocked he doesnât hiss, and everything goes hot-white and shaking. You vaguely register the way he holds you through itâarm like a band of steel around your waist, mouth at your ear telling you, âThatâs it, thatâs it, let go for me, good girl, I got you, I got youââand then youâre sagging against him, boneless and wrecked.
Youâre still panting when you feel him ease his fingers out, slow, gentle.
You whimper at the loss.
He groans, quiet and filthy, watching his own fingers. Theyâre slick with you. He stares like itâs the hottest thing heâs ever seen in his life.
Then, eyes on yours, never breaking contact, he lifts those fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.
Your jaw actually drops.
âJesus,â you whisper, stunned.
He hums around his own fingers, eyes rolling back for one split second like heâs fucking tasting heaven. When he pulls them free with a soft, obscene pop, his voice is wrecked. âYou taste like trouble,â he murmurs, grinning slow and dark. âFigures.â
Youâre shaking. âI canât believe you justââ
âOh, sweetheart,â he says softly, almost sweet, âIâm just gettinâ started.â
Your legs almost give again.
He laughs quietly and steadies you. âThink you can walk?â
You blink. âWhere are we going?â
His grin goes wicked. âBedroom,â he says. âUnless you want your neighbors to hear you choke on my cock in the kitchen.â
You make a tiny, strangled sound that does nothing to hide how your thighs press together at the image.
His eyes flare. âBedroom it is.â
He doesnât exactly ask permission to move you. He just puts his hands on youâone at your hip, the other low on your backâand steers you down the hallway like youâre his to move. You stumble a little, still boneless from the orgasm, and he huffs a quiet laugh, murmuring, âEasy,â like youâre not both about to do something thatâll haunt your dreams forever.
Your bedroom is a tiny, soft chaos of blankets and laundry and warm lamplight. Youâre suddenly, violently aware that you did not plan for tonight to go this farâyou didnât tidy, you didnât stage, you didnâtâ
Oh, god.
The calendar.
You forgot about the calendar.
Bucky stops dead in the doorway.
For a split second youâre confused, then you follow his line of sight and want to actually dissolve.
Itâs hanging on the inside of your closet door, right where youâd left it after laughing about it with your friend over wine. The fire station fundraiser calendar. The local âHeroes of Engine 41â charity thing theyâd sold at the farmerâs market.
Itâs currently flipped to this month.
This month is Bucky.
And not âBucky in full gear, anonymous heroâ Bucky. No. This is âBucky with his turnout pants low on his hips and suspenders tugged off his shoulders, shirtless, drenched, helmet in one hand, looking over his shoulder like you just called his name.â Itâs borderline obscene. Whoever took that photo knew exactly what they were doing. His abs look like theyâre carved. His dog tags are dripping water down his chest. His mouth is a soft, dangerous curve.
Itâs also signed.
To: Trouble. Try not to burn the place down without me. âSgt. Barnes
You actually whimper.
Bucky is absolutely silent.
You cannot tell if heâs mad, turned on, amused, or about to arrest you.
Your face is on fire. âThatâs notâ I mean, thatâs not what it looks likeââ
His head turns, slow, and when his eyes land on you again theyâre molten.
âOh, sweetheart,â he rumbles, voice dropping so low itâs basically a purr. âItâs exactly what it looks like.â
You cover your face with both hands. âI didnâtâ Sam made meâ he said if I didnât buy one heâd tell you I didnât support local heroes and I panickedââ
Bucky snorts.
You peek through your fingers.
He is staring at the calendar like he wants to physically climb through the paper and fight himself. His jaw is tight. His pupils are huge.
âYou been jerkinâ off to my fundraiser photo, menace?â he asks conversationally, like heâs asking if youâve had dinner. âThat why you needed so many âemergency visitsâ?â
You let out a mortified squeak. âIâ I have notââ
âHonesty,â he reminds you softly.
Oh god.
Your voice comes out in a whisper. âYes.â
His eyes close for one glorious second like heâs in pain.
When he opens them again, he looks⊠different. Rougher. Hotter. Hungrier.
Dangerous.
âGet on the bed,â he says.
You go.
Itâs not graceful. You sort of scramble backwards onto your sheets, breathless and wrecked, heart pounding wild. You sit with your back against the pillows, knees bent, thighs parted because you canât pretend youâre shy anymore. Your pulse roars in your ears.
Bucky steps into your room like he owns it.
Like he owns you.
âLay back,â he murmurs. âHead on the pillows. I wanna see all of you.â
You melt back, dizzy, spreading out for him without thinking. Your legs fall open in invitation.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth.
âThatâs my girl,â he says, voice rough.
You groan.
Then, slowly, never looking away from you, he reaches for his belt.
You almost combust.
He unclips the heavy utility belt, sets it carefully on your floor. The harness strap comes off next. Then his shirt.
Holy god.
Youâd known he was big. Youâd seen the fundraiser photo. It did not prepare you for the reality of James Buchanan Barnes shirtless in your bedroom.
Heâs all broad chest and thick arms, heavy muscle that looks earned, not sculpted, like he didnât get it at a gym, he got it carrying people out of burning buildings. Scars cross his torso, pale lines and healed nicks, each one a story you suddenly, desperately want to hear. His dog tags hang against his sternum, just like in the calendar, only now theyâre real and right there and you could touch them if you reach.
You whimper.
His mouth quirks. âLike what you see?â
âAre you kidding,â you whisper hoarsely.
He laughs softly.
Then he reaches for the button on his cargo pants.
Your breath stops.
Heâs not shy about it. He doesnât tease. He just undoes the button, drags the zipper down, and shoves the pants low enough to free himself.
You actually gasp.
Heâs⊠yeah. Big. Thick. Flushed. Sitting heavy against his lower abdomen. Your mouth goes dry.
Bucky chuckles, low and smug, at the way your eyes go wide. âWhatâs the matter, sweetheart?â he murmurs, voice gone honey-dark. âNervous?â
You swallow. âNo.â
âHonesty,â he reminds you, amused.
You flush. âA little,â you whisper. âYouâreâ um.â
âYeah,â he says with a little huff of a laugh. âThatâs what I figured.â
Then heâs at the edge of the bed, kneeling between your open thighs. He braces one hand on the mattress right by your hip. The bed dips with his weight. You feel caged. You love it.
âHereâs whatâs gonna happen,â he murmurs, voice soft, almost soothing. âYouâre gonna make me feel good with that pretty mouth, and then Iâm gonna fuck you nice and slow, just like youâve been begginâ for in that little head of yours. Sound good?â
Your stomach drops straight through the floor.
You nod frantically. âYes,â you whisper. âYes, sir.â
His groan is borderline pornographic. âOh, fuck, youâre tryinâ to kill me.â
He shifts up the bed, knees bracketing your ribs. He doesnât sit on your chest. Heâs careful about his weight, about his balance, like heâs done this and knows how not to hurt you. His handâhis warm handâcomes up and cups your jaw again, thumb stroking your cheek.
âYou tap me, I move,â he murmurs, voice low. âYou gag, you pull off. I donât force. You hear me?â
You nod. âYes, Sergeant.â
His eyes flash.
âFuck,â he whispers. âOpen.â
You open your mouth.
He groans.
Guiding himself with one hand, he drags the blunt, flushed head of his cock over your lower lip. Slow. Teasing. Slicking you with pre-come. You whine at the taste. He hisses.
âThatâs it,â he mutters. âPretty fuckinâ mouth. Jesus.â
Then he slides in.
You moan.
He doesnât choke you. He doesnât slam. He feeds himself into your mouth slow, just the head, then a little more, then a little more, until your lips are stretched around him and your tongue is pressed under the weight of him and your eyes are watering.
You whimper.
His head drops back on a low, broken groan. âOh my god.â
You rest your hands on his thighsâthick, hard muscle under heavy fabricâand hollow your cheeks, sucking.
He swears softly. âYeah,â he gasps. âYeah, thatâsâ fuck, thatâs perfect, baby, just like that. Look at you. Jesus, look at you takinâ me like a fuckinâ angel.â
Heat floods you at the praise.
You hum around him, wanting more.
His breath hitches. âOh fuckâ careful, doll, you do that and this is gonna be over real fast.â
You look up at him through your lashes, and the sound he makes at thatâhalf groan, half laughâgoes straight between your legs.
âMenace,â he growls, fond and desperate. âSuch a fuckinâ menace.â
You preen.
You keep working him, finding a rhythm. He lets you set the pace, lets you get comfortable. You drag your tongue along the underside of him, swirl the head, suck him back in. His thighs flex under your hands. His breathing gets rougher. His hand tightens on your jaw, not forcing, just anchoring.
âSuch a good girl,â he pants, voice gone ragged. âGod, youâre such a good fuckinâ girl for me, takinâ me so sweetââ
You whine, needy, and he chokes on a groan.
âOkay,â he mutters, voice breaking, âokay, baby, I gottaâ if I donât stop now Iâm gonnaâ fuckââ
He pulls back gently, letting you breathe.
You gasp, blinking up at him, spit on your lips, eyes glassy.
He looks wrecked.
âJesus Christ,â he mutters, running a shaky hand over his face. âYouâre gonna put me in an early grave.â
You smile, dazed and smug.
He laughs, breathless and incredulous and so fond you swear your chest hurts. âCâmere,â he murmurs.
Then heâs shifting, moving you like you weigh nothing. He slides down your body, kissing as he goesâyour mouth, your throat, the swell of your breasts, the soft of your stomach. You squirm, breath hitching.
When he settles between your thighs and drags them over his shoulders, you gasp.
âBuckyââ you choke, then whimper, âSergeant, pleaseââ
He glances up at you from between your legs with a grin that could start wars. âGood girl,â he murmurs, and then heâs licking into you like heâs starving.
You scream.
Thereâs no other word for it. You slap a hand over your own mouth on instinct, wide-eyed and shaking, because you live in an apartment building and you are about to make enemies.
Bucky growls against you and drags your hand away, pinning your wrist to the mattress with his cool metal hand. âUh-uh,â he mutters against your soaked pussy. âLet âem hear.â
You moan something that isnât words.
He eats you like a man dying of thirst. Messy, greedy, thorough. He groans like youâre his favorite meal, like youâre his first meal. His tongue drags up and down, slow and heavy. He sucks your clit into his mouth and your vision whites out. He slides two thick fingers back into you, easy this time, slick with you and his spit, curling just right, just right, justâ
You come so hard you almost black out.
It hits even faster than the first one. Your whole body bows tight, your breath catches in your throat, you sob his title on a broken moanââSergeant, please, oh my god, oh my godââand he groans like you just blessed him.
âThatâs it,â he growls into you. âFuck, thatâs it, give it to me, doll, lemme taste it, thatâs my girlââ
Youâre shaking when he finally eases up, kissing you through the aftershocks, licking you slow until youâre twitching and too sensitive.
He presses one last kiss to your inner thigh like benediction.
Then heâs crawling up your body again, bracing over you, eyes blown and wild, mouth slick with you.
Youâre boneless. Floating. Wrecked.
He groans like you just punched him. âChrist youâre a vision.â
Then heâs lining himself up, the head of his cock slick with your wetness, and pressing in.
You both moan.
He goes slow.
Thank god he goes slow.
You can feel him stretch you, inch by thick, perfect inch, and itâs almost too muchâyour mouth falls open on a silent gasp, eyes rolling back, hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders. Heâs huge. Heâs so big you feel split, stuffed, filled to aching.
âThatâs it,â he pants, forehead pressed to yours, breath harsh. âShh, I got you. Youâre okay. Youâre so fuckinâ good for me, sweetheart, takinâ me so sweet. Youâre okay.â
You whine, high and helpless. âOhmygodââ
âI know,â he groans. âI know, baby, I know. Youâre doinâ so good. Look at you. Jesus fuck, look at you.â
When heâs finally, finally all the way in, seated deep, you feel full in a way that borders on spiritual.
Youâre both shaking.
âHoly fuck,â he whispers, voice wrecked. âYou feelâ I canâtâ I canât evenââ
You let out a breathless laugh that edges on a sob. âMove,â you beg. âPlease, Sergeant, pleaseââ
He swears, low and reverent. âYou keep sayinâ that,â he mutters, âand Iâm gonna propose to you, you understand me?â
You make a half-sob, half-giggle noise.
He laughs, breathless, and then he starts to move.
Itâs obscene.
He fucks you slow like he promised, long, deep strokes that drag against every tender, sensitive place inside you, hitting perfect every single time like he mapped you with his fingers first. His hips roll, controlled and heavy. The muscles in his arms flex over you, caging you in. His dog tags swing and tap against your sternum with every thrust.
Youâre gone.
You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders, head tipped back, mouth open on high, broken noises you couldnât hold back if you tried.
âThatâs it,â he groans, eyes glued to your face. âThatâs it, sweetheart, take it, take it, fuck, youâre perfect, youâre my perfect fuckinâ girl, shitââ
Youâre babbling. You donât even know what youâre saying. Please and yes and Sergeant and donât stop and oh my god over and over like a prayer.
Heâs shaking, jaw clenched, sweat beading at his temple, holding himself back with visible effort.
âTell me youâre mine,â he pants, desperate. âTell me.â
You donât even hesitate. âIâm yours,â you gasp, raw and honest. âIâm yours, Iâm yours, Iâm yours, pleaseââ
He growls, low and feral. âThatâs right,â he snarls, thrusts stuttering. âThatâs right, thatâs my fuckinâ menace, my little fire hazard, mine.â
You tumble over the edge like he flipped a switch.
Your orgasm crashes through you so hard you sob. Your whole body locks tight around him, clenching, milking him, and you cry out his title on a wrecked, pleading wail.
âSergeantâ!â
He breaks with you.
He chokes on a groan that sounds like itâs being ripped out of him, buries his face in your neck, and thrusts once, twice, deep and hard, before heâs spilling into you with a shudder that borders on violent.
For a second, everything is just heat and heartbeat and rain.
Youâre both shaking. You can feel his pulse pounding against your throat. His breath is hot and ragged where his mouth is pressed to your skin. Youâre full, stuffed, stretched, perfect.
Youâre also absolutely ruined.
He stays there for a long moment, holding himself up so he doesnât crush you even though youâre pretty sure youâd like him to. His metal hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking slow and soothing along your cheekbone. His human hand fists in your sheets like he needs the anchor.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes look soft. Gentle, in a way he hasnât let himself be yet.
âYou okay?â he murmurs, voice rough.
You nod, smiling, dazed and wrecked and so full of him you feel drunk. âBetter than okay,â you whisper. âHoly shit.â
He huffs a quiet laugh, relief flickering across his face like sunrise. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you say honestly. âYou?â
He looks at you like youâre the fire and heâd gladly walk in.
âYeah,â he says softly. âYeah, sweetheart. Iâm good.â
You grin, sleepy and smug. âSo,â you murmur, âyou gonna write me up for that citation?â
He groans and drops his face back into your neck. âMenace,â he mutters, words muffled against your skin. âYouâre an actual menace.â
You giggle, boneless and warm, and wrap your arms around him, holding him there.
Outside, rain hammers your windows, steady and relentless.
Inside, youâre finally, blissfully, warm.
----
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unprotected p in v, creampie, pussy job, semi public sex
Adjusting his slipping glasses with one of his calloused fingers, he keeps rutting his hips against yours â not even faltering for a second when he fixes his glasses.
His breath is ragged, moans breathy as he watches your shivering form underneath him. Small hands pressed against his stomach to touch him as he uses his free hand to guide his throbbing cock through your glistening folds.
âY-you canât push in,â you whine, for- you donât even know how many times you repeated the sentence while he fucks your pussy without actually fucking your pussy. âIâm- no birth control.â
He groans, somewhat frustrated. But also somewhere close to a covered whine because fuck, he wants to breed you so bad. Pump you full of his cum and watch it leak out of you.
But you havenât talked about it. He usually uses condoms, and done.
So, showing up at his work in his break in this stupid tight dress and his hoodie on top made him go crazy. He didnât think he needed some condoms at work, but once again you proved him wrong - wherever you go, he should keep a few in his pocket.
âJusâ the tip, baby,â he whines, thick head of his cock pressing firmly against your clit when he forcefully pushes his hips against yours. âThe tip, ân gonna pull out before I cum.â
And fuck, itâs almost convincing. Almost.
Would you know you could trust him - you definitely canât - you would let him. But he proofed once that he canât hold himself back. Neither can you.
âWe donât gotââ you get interrupted by a sharp snap of his hips into yours, his heavy balls pressing against your weeping pussy.
He keeps trusting steadily against you, making you moan and writh underneath him. His thumb moves to press down onto the tip of his cock.
Clark lets out a quiet hiss, his other and moving to claw at your hips, as he tries to angle his head to keep watching you without his glasses to slip down his nose.
âBaby, please,â he moans, rutting against you.
The coil in your lower stomach tightens, his pre-cum leaking down onto your clit as he keeps nudging it with the flush head of his thick cock.
âOh- oh, baby,â he whines, withdrawing his cock enough to let it slide down your pussy, the tip catching your entrance and before you can complain, he pushes in.
A sharp cry erupts from deep within your throat, the stretch immense when the head splits your pussy apart, forcing a gasp from your mouth.
Clark mutters something about sorry under his breath, forcing half of his twitching length into your tight pussy.
The dull pain and the pleasure mixing together with his cock forcing your pussy to adjust to his size throwing you over the edge.
Your pussy gushes around his cock, sucking him in deeper as your walls clench tightly around him.
âFuck, baby, s-sor-â he babbles, cock twitching before you feel the warmth of his cum spurting into your pussy - filling you drop by drop with it.
Clark exhales softly, pushing his glasses up his nose before he looks at you apologetically, a soft grin spreading on his lips.
âIdiot,â you mutter, sitting up, with his cock still inside of you, as you press a peck to his lips. âYouâre gonna get down on those pretty knees and use that skilled tongue to clean it. You make it messy, then you clean it up.â
He chuckles, already lowering himself between your shaking thighs to eat his meal from the source - or in other words, heâs cleaning your pussy to make sure you will let him cum inside of you again.
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the birds & the bees -- Superman x Fem!Reader (Kinktober 2025)
I don't care that it's November now it's still Kinktober to me!!! (this is what I get for trying to do a million things during one month but we carry on)
Summary: Clark Kent leaves work abruptly to cover a breaking Superman story, but he practically goes missing right after. You, being the caring friend and coworker that you are, decide to go to his apartment to see if he's okay. And he is, he's just...a little under the weather, and he really needs your help.
Warnings: 18+ only mdni!!!, baby's first sex pollen fic (i think?), needy + sort of subby!clark, blink n you miss it handjob, he gets a lil rough, pussy pronouns, unprotected sex, oral/facefucking (f + m rec), voyeurism if u squint, lots of manhandling, size kink ofc, clark cums...a lot, dirty dirty talk, pollen lowkey affects reader too, lots of petnames ('honey' 'sweetheart' 'baby'), he begs a lot whoops, improper use of his x-ray vision (naughty clark!!), he's still just a giant sweetie even w the pollen <33
WC: 7.7k (this ran the fuck away from me ok)
Itâs Saturday, and youâre standing in front of the door to your coworkerâs apartment. Uninvited, you might add.
This has to be a new low for you.
The truth is something a little more like this: Itâs Saturday, and youâre standing outside your best-friend-slash-coworker-who-has-a-(mutual)-crush-on-you-slash-the-most-handsome-man-in-Metropolisâs door because you havenât heard from him since Thursday night.
Youâve called, youâve texted, youâve sent emails, youâve left who knows how many voicemails. Nothing. Radio silence.
Jimmy has tried, Lois has tried, Cat has tried -- hell, even Perry tried, because when Clark didnât show up for work by lunch time yesterday, Perry was even getting worried. Itâs normal for Clark to be a little late from time to time. You think his problem is that heâs just too nice and heâll talk to anyone, and he gets caught up with anything. Youâve witnessed it in real time.Â
But not showing at all? Thatâs unheard of. He hardly ever has sick days, now that you think about it, so if he is sick, it must be lethal, and you have to at least make sure heâs okay.
At least, thatâs what youâre telling yourself to justify the fact that youâre showing up, uninvited, and debating letting yourself inside with the spare key under the plant in the corner (Clark is so predictable).
You try knocking again. âClark?â you call out. âAre you in there?â
Itâs just so unlike him, to not show at all, especially after such a big day for Superman on Thursday afternoon. Clark rushed out of the office to go see the action and to get his front-page interview like he always does, and you all were certain it would be plastered on Fridayâs paper. But it wasnât.
Instead, it was some piece Jimmy was working on -- congrats, Jimmy, really, but still -- and Superman saving the city from a creature no one has ever seen before was tucked away inside, and barely a full column. It was a quick write up, the quickest youâve ever seen Lois do, and it works, but itâs not what everyone was expecting. Steve ended up fielding phone calls about why Clark Kent didnât interview Superman and why he didnât get an exclusive like always.Â
Needless to say, yesterday was hectic at the Daily Planet, and you worried yourself sick over Clarkâs whereabouts, so much so that youâre now staring down his front door before noon on a Saturday.
God. You shake your head at yourself. Heâs probably-- Maybe there was a family emergency? Your heart clenches at the idea of anything happening to Ma or Pa Kent, butâŠitâs a real possibility. Maybe he just hasnât been able to look at his phone because of it.
Itâs one of the worst case scenarios, but it feels like thatâs all youâre working with considering you havenât seen or heard from him in almost forty-eight hours.
Your foot taps impatiently on the floor. The tote bag full of cold remedies and just general things to cheer up a sad Clark Kent weighs heavily on your shoulder. You had thought youâd find him here, maybe sick with an awful flu, or--
You hear movement. Your foot immediately stops its tapping, your breathing halts, you think your heart might even stop beating. You lean a little closer to the door.Â
Definitely movement. Someone is inside.
âClark?â you call out again. âItâs me,â you try instead. âI havenât heard from you, I-I got worried.â You pause, listening for the same shuffling. âI wanted to see if you were okay.â
The only response you get is a low groan. Groaning that you arenât even sure is Clark, but itâs something, and it doesnât sound good.
âCan I come in?â you ask. Youâll think later on how to apologize for coming over unannounced and for presumptively looking for the spare key and for letting yourself in. Right now you just need to see if heâs okay.
You hear more groaning, followed by the sound of something crashing -- you have no idea what -- and you decide thatâs it.
You tip the plant and swipe the key, inserting it and twisting the knob all in one swoop. âIâm really sorry,â you say as you push the door open. âIâm so sorry, but it sounded like-- I just had to check--â
All words promptly die on your lips when you see the state of Clarkâs apartment.
Youâve been here once. Only once. You were caught in a bad storm after drinks with Clark, Jimmy, and Lois, and Clarkâs apartment was closer, so he offered you dry clothes and a warm shower while the storm waned. That night, every lamp was on, he had hot cocoa ready for you as soon as you got out of the shower, and the two of you talked and laughed while the rain beat the windows.
Today, the sun is out, but it looks stormy in Clarkâs apartment. Not a single light is on, the couch is askew, the coffee table overturned.Â
And Clark.
His back is pressed to the far window, hands splayed like heâs pinning himself to the glass with all his strength. Heâs in a t-shirt and boxers that are tented, and that would normally be enough for you to avert your eyes, except he looks ill. Heâs practically ashen, and heâs sweating so much that his shirt is sticking to his skin, to every muscle. His hair is curled to hell, bordering on messy in a way that is worrisome, like heâs been gripping and tugging at it and trying to rip it out.
âClark?â you ask, shutting the door behind you. You place the spare key down on the little table by the door. âAre you⊠Whatâs going on?â
His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he wonât look at you. He mumbles something, but you canât hear him.
âClark, pleaseâŠâ you pause, swallowing. You set your bag down by the door, walking closer to him, approaching him like heâs a skittish animal that might run away from you at any second. âTalk to me.â
âStop,â he bites out. âPlease.â
You stop moving, holding your hands up in surrender. What the hell is going on? His legs are shaking, he looks like he hasnât eaten since Thursdayâs lunch, and he still wonât lift his head.
âYou should--â he pauses, sucks in a harsh, sharp breath. âYou should leave.â
You scoff, not unkindly, just, confused and stressed and what has gotten into him? âClark, Iâm not leaving. We need to get you to a doct--â
âNo!â he shouts, immediately shaking his head. âNo, no, IâmâŠfine, I donât need a doctor.â
âYou are not fine,â you argue gently. âYou look like you can barely hold yourself up. Are you sick with something?â
âNo,â he whines, then adds, âyes, kind of.â One hand leaves the glass to press to his temple with a grimace.
âIs it a migraine?â you ask, wondering if maybe thatâs why itâs so dark in here. But that doesnât explain the fact that it looks like a tornado took off in here, too. âDonât you get those if you donât wear your glasses?â Heâs not wearing them right now, which youâve only just now noticed. âWhere are they?â
You look around and spot them on the kitchen counter, as if they were ripped off and thrown down. Your eyebrows furrow.
âClark,â you turn back to him. âPlease tell me whatâs going on. I want to help. Youâve had everyone worried sick, and we damn near called a wellness check for you, but I figured, let me just come knock on his door first-- But I canât help if you wonât even let me near you.â
He whimpers this time, high in his throat, almost like heâs going to cry. âPlease.â
âPlease, what?â you cry. âWhat can I do? Let me help.â You take tentative steps toward him, hoping he doesnât notice.
âI-I canât,â he shudders. âI donât want to hurt you--â
âHurt me?â You keep walking slowly. âWhy would you hurt me?â Your mind is running wild with all kinds of possibilities right now, one namely being, is Clark on drugs or something?
âIt-itâs not something I can control,â he says.
âWhat is?â you ask, taking more steps. Youâre just past the coffee table now. Youâll be able to reach out to him any second.
âItâs--â he cuts himself off with another wince. âPlease, you need to stay back, I--â
âIâm sorry, but Iâm not going to just stand over there and watch you like this,â you say sternly, taking more intentional steps now. You reach him quickly, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. âYouâre burning up!â
He sighs when you touch him, knees buckling. âI-I know. H-Hurts.â
âClark,â you whisper, placing your hands on his shoulders. âWhat happened to you? Did you get hurt when you went to interview Superman? Did you get caught in the fight or something?â
He chuckles, but itâs not his usual sound. âOr something,â he murmurs sheepishly, finally tipping his head back to look up at you and--
Your eyes go wide. The world sways. Suddenly you feel like youâre the one who is sick.Â
âC-Clark?â you stutter in disbelief. âSuperman?â
He groans again, head lolling forward. âThis is not how I wanted to tell you.â
You come back to yourself and remember heâs violently ill and you shake your head. Now is not the time to be starstruck. âHey, no, no, itâs okay, itâs fine! So youâre Superman? Itâs okay!â You know you sound ridiculous. âDo you-- Donât you have healing-- Doesnât the sun help you or something? Why are you still like this?â
âThe sun canât help this, itâs-- This is different. The Superman robots tried to help, but--â
You nod along, noting things to ask him about later, like Superman robots because what does that even mean? Who are they?
âOkay,â you say, like youâve got it all figured out after what heâs told you. Like you have a plan. âOkay.â You donât know what to do. âSo we-- Did they-- Do theâŠrobots know what it is thatâs making you feel like this?â
He nods slowly, tipping his head back again to look at you, his blue eyes not at all tired like you expect them to be. Theyâre practically molten. âThey have an idea.â
âOkay,â you lick your lips. You should not be thinking about how attractive he is up close like this when heâs practically on his death bed. âWhat is it?â
He opens his mouth like heâs going to spill it all out right then, but he snaps his jaw closed. âNo, I-- I canât tell you.â
You nearly scream out of sheer frustration. âWhat do you mean?â you try to have a gentle tone, but youâre not sure you succeed.
âItâs--â he hisses in pain again (you think?), hanging his head. âItâs complicated.â
âI donât think anything can be more complicated than the fact that I just found out youâre Superman when youâre like this.â
He chuckles again, the sound growing warmer this time. âItâs-- Can you promise me something first?â
âYeah, Clark,â your face softens. âAnything.â
He groans at that. âNoâŠno, I mean it, I mean, if I tell you what this is, and youâre scared, or you-- You just donât want to be around me, you have to tell me.â
Your eyes widen. âClark--â
âI mean it, please,â he begs. âBecause if you say you donât want this, I promise, I will-- Iâll go and bury myself in the ice and Iâll wait it out and I wonât hurt you.â
âClark, youâre not gonna hurt me.â
âI might,â he chokes out. âI could. Iâve-- Itâs been two days of this, I donât know my own strength, I might--â
âClark, stop, stop,â you cut him off, both your hands cupping his face, forcing him to look at you. âPlease, just tell me whatâs going on so I can help.â
âIâm-- I think the creature on Thursday was released by Lex Luthor as a distraction.â
He stops, so you press gently, holding his face as you whisper, âDistraction for what?â
âWhen I was flying home after it -- back to the Fortress -- as I was leaving Metropolis I flew through a cloud but it wasnât a cloud, it was-- I think Lex manufactured it because he knew Iâd fly through it and he knew it would do this to me.â
You still donât know what this is, other than the fact that he looks three steps from the grave.
âItâsâŠmy body is--â He pauses again. âThis is embarrassing.â
âClarkâŠâ you sigh, pulling him into your arms despite everything. Heâs much taller than you, yet right now he feels so small. His face finds your neck and he inhales deeply, holding his breath. âYou can tell me.â
âIt was a pollen cloud,â he murmurs into your skin, nosing your carotid artery. âAnd the pollen sets my hormones on fire.â
You rub circles onto his back. âSo youâreâŠ?â
âSo turned on that I might die,â he whines, still mortified from having to admit this out loud. His hips move on their own accord, and you feel him grinding against your leg before he promptly stops himself. âS-Sorry.â
Your brain is spinning circles in your skull as you try to figure out exactly what he means. What this means.
âWill you actually die?â you ask instead of the other thousands of thoughts running through your head. You scratch his scalp gently, hoping this is somewhat helping, having your arms around him and his around your waist.
His breaths are shallower now, like heâs either afraid to inhale too much of you, or like he canât get enough. âI donât know. Probably not. I think I just have to wait it out.â
âBut,â you lift your head and he does the same, âis there anything that will help?â
âI canât ask that of you,â he says immediately, his throat working around a swallow. âI-Itâs why I havenât answered your calls-- Iâm sorry that I havenât, I just-- I flew all the way to the Fortress of Solitude and when the robots told me I needed to-- told me what would help, I flew to Ma and Paâs, and then didnât even go in and see them, I just came straight back here because you were--â He pauses, shutting his eyes, twisting them shut, his head thudding as it hits the window. âYou were too far, I couldnât hear you from there and I⊠I needed to hear you.â
âHear me?â you gasp. âClark, I donât even live close to you, I--â
âI know!â he cries. âI know, but I swear I could hear you, or-- or maybe I really couldnât, but I couldnât stand being so far away from you, I had to be in the same city. And then I heard you when you got inside the building, and your heart was so loud outside my door, and gosh, you-- You smell like Heaven, sweetheart.â
Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, banging around against your ribcage. Sweetheart.
âClark,â you begin, waiting for him to open his eyes, but he doesnât. For the second time today, you decide, fuck it. You cup his jaw with one hand, not forceful, but not entirely gentle either. You know heâs embarrassed, but enough is enough. âLook at me.â
Clarkâs eyes open instantly, glassy and red and full of fire. âYes maâam?â
âIf what Iâm gathering from this is correct, thenâŠI want to help.â
âYou do?â
You nod, thumb stroking his cheek. âDo you want me to?â
âOf course I want you to,â he whines, head threatening to tip back again. His smile is lazy, crooked, and so Clark. âI just-- I wanted to ask you out on a date first.â
You chuckle quietly. So your suspicions about your crush being requited werenât all in your head, it seems. âWe can go on a date once you feel better, okay?â
He nods. âOkay,â he murmurs, swallowing again, like his mouth is making far too much saliva. âOkay. Can we-- Can we go to that place on--â
You donât know what else to do, so you kiss him. Heâs embarrassed, heâs rambling, and heâs gotten so worked up in his head that heâs fighting it -- keeping you from helping him.
Itâs a syrupy-sweet first kiss. You try to put every ounce of your nearly year-long crush into it, hoping he can feel all of it. Youâd do anything for him, youâve always felt that way, and youâve shown it before too. Just in more normal, friendly ways than this. Than agreeing to have sex with Clark so he will feel better.
It sounds absurd, even just in your head, and if you think too much about it, you wonât be able to do anything because of how hard your mind will be reeling. Just this morning, just two hours ago, you thought Clark was sick with maybe the flu or had a family emergency or something else normal, and now. Now you know heâs Superman, now youâve agreed to help him through whatever pollen-induced horny sickness this is, now youâre finally kissing Clark Kent.
He whimpers into your mouth, fingers wrapping around your wrist to tug your hand down to where he needs you.
âS-Sorry,â he cries, grinding into your palm.
You shush him, applying the pressure he needs. âThat better?â
He nods furiously, lips mashing against yours as he chases the feeling of your hand on him, and you havenât even really touched him. When you finally snake your hand under his waistband, his head falls into your neck, shoulders slumping.
His skin feels hot all over, but somehow even hotter here when you wrap your fingers around him, gently stroking. He kisses your neck, then licks, your eyes rolling from the feeling of him clinging to you, completely at your mercy.
Soon heâs rocking his hips into your hand, then wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body to his like he wants to meld you together. You thumb over his slit once, twice, and without warning, heâs shaking in your hold, spilling into his boxers.
He goes still against you, chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. Your free hand strokes his curls where he has his head buried in your neck, wondering if that was enough, or if it was too much.
âClark?â you whisper. His skin doesnât feel any cooler, but maybe it takes time.
The only warning you get -- though you donât realize itâs a warning at all -- is a low groan, deep in his chest before heâs spun you around, pressing your back into the glass.Â
When he kisses you this time, the sweetness from earlier is gone, replaced with a desperate, ravenous hunger. Heâs still as hard as he was before when he fits his body against yours, hips grinding into you.
âClark--â you try to get out in between kisses, but heâs ravenous now. Gone is the hesitant, shaking Clark from before. âMmph-- Clark. Clark.â
He finally pulls back, a string of saliva connecting your lips that he licks away. âSorry,â he whispers, but he doesnât sound sorry at all, and doesnât look it either, the way heâs not looking at your eyes at all but instead at your lips. âWhat did you--â He pauses again, out of breath. âWhat were you saying?â
It makes you giggle, seeing him like this, but thereâs heat pooling in your lower belly, too. âNo, I just-- That was a change.â
âOh,â he grins, and itâs a bit wolfish, making your thighs clench. âI told you, Iâm a little--â
âI know.â
âIs that okay?â
âYeah,â you reply, breathless, pushing your hips out to grind into him. âYeah, itâs great.â
âOh, sweetheart,â he groans, hands squeezing your hips as he dives for another kiss, tongue immediately coaxing your mouth open. âThank you. Thank you for letting me have you.â
âYou have me,â you whisper. âDo whatever you need to-- Ah!â
His hands immediately split the seam of your shirt, exposing your breasts. He finds the clip to your bra and suddenly heâs thumbing over your nipples, massaging them, pinching them lightly, watching you squirm.
You grip his shirt, knowing you wonât be able to rip it, but after a few tugs, he gets the idea and does it for you, letting you shove it off his arms and to the floor with yours. His boxers go next, his previous release still sticky inside them, and then heâs dragging your pants down your legs, kneeling as he goes.
Youâve never been so grateful for him to have an apartment on one of the top floors as you are now, when he has you bare and pressed to the window.
âLook at how prettyâŠâ he muses, kissing your inner thigh as he spreads your legs to accommodate his wide frame. He shoulders between them, then lifts one of your legs to rest over his body. âAlready so wet for me,â he whispers, like heâs talking to your pussy, not you. âGotta get her ready for me, though.â He looks up at you, so sweet despite the filth heâs speaking and how close he is to your clit. âDonât wanna hurt you.â
You pet his head, smiling as you stroke his curls. âYou wonât hurt me, Clark.â Even though heâs not in his right mind, you donât think heâd ever be able to hurt you.
He leans his cheek against your thigh, just gazing so lovingly at your core. âI wonât,â he promises with a little sigh. âSâtoo pretty.â
You think you might have to physically guide him to where you need him, but then heâs finally leaning forward, pressing a tender kiss to your clit that makes you jump.
He grins again, wide and hungry. âSensitive?â
âA little,â you admit. Because you wonât stop teasing me.
âIâll be gentle,â he swears, and then proceeds to be anything but.
He wraps his lips around your clit, tonguing the hood back ever so slightly to focus directly on your most sensitive spot. Your hips buck involuntarily into his mouth and he moves closer, setting in.
His tongue darts lower, separating your folds, teasing your hole. You donât think youâve ever cum from someone eating you out without using their fingers too, but Clark just might get you there. And he seems determined too.
With his nose providing friction to your clit, his tongue presses into you, and he hums. A deep, guttural noise before he somehow moves closer, like he doesnât even want to breathe while heâs going down on you.Â
Youâre gripping his curls like your life depends on it, because it sort of does, and you try to warn him before you cum, but he doesnât slow down or make any indication that he hears you. He just dives deeper, licks faster, and starts mumbling nonsense into your pussy.
âI know youâre close,â he almost whines, like heâs desperate to feel it, to taste it. âPlease, baby, please let me have it.â
Your head hits the window with a dull, quiet thud, your chest heaving. âClark,â you gasp, and somehow he knows what you mean, what youâre trying to say in that one word because then he goes back to sucking on your clit, tongue flicking rapidly.
âCome on,â he says, somehow speaking while still fucking you.
âClark,â your head lolls against the window, the pleasure making it impossible to hold any part of your body upright.
âIâve got you,â he murmurs, adjusting his grip to stabilize you. âIâm right here, sweetheart.â
You finally tip over the edge and climax with a cry, body sinking down the window until itâs only Clarkâs strength holding you up. He lets you ride his face through it, one hand in his curls, pushing and pulling exactly where you need him most until youâre trembling with the aftershocks.
He crawls up your body, littering kisses as he goes, pausing to focus on your nipples again, swirling his tongue around them. Your brain is in a haze as you drag his face back to you so you can kiss him, not caring -- and frankly, finding it a little hot -- that you can taste yourself on his tongue.
Clark gives no warning before picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you like youâre nothing back to his bedroom. He practically tosses you onto the bed, covering his body with yours, caging you underneath him.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he says, almost like he canât believe it as he covers your face in kisses. âTaste so good, every piece of you.â
While he speaks, his hips start to have a mind of their own, steadily rocking into yours, grinding his erection into your stomach. You felt him before, wrapping your hand around him, but feeling him like this, right there, is different.
It makes you gasp into his mouth when the head of his cock catches on your clit. He smirks, nipping at your bottom lip, doing it again just to see your reaction.
âThat feel good?â he asks, just as out of breath as you are. You just nod pathetically as he does it over and over. âIâve gotta stretch you, honey,â he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. âFeel how big I am?â
You nod again, feeling, from the outside, how deep heâll be and God, you have no idea how heâll fit, but you want it to. You want it so bad you might start crying.
One hand snakes its way downward while you continue kissing Clark. Itâs hot and messy and thereâs spit all over both of your chins, but you canât bring yourself to care, especially not when heâs pushing a finger inside you and one already feels so big.
The whine you let out just tells him exactly how you feel, and he soothes you by putting pressure on your clit with the heel of his hand.Â
âItâll feel better in a second, honey,â he promises, already teasing another finger before pushing in, shushing you as you squirm and writhe against him. âToo much?â
You shake your head. âFeels good,â you groan.Â
âThatâs my sweet girl.â
âFeels good but I want you.â
âYouâll get me, honey, donât worry,â he whispers, kissing you gingerly. âNeed you to cum again for me first. Can you do that?â
You donât know, but then he spreads his fingers, pressing right into your G-spot, and that lights your body on fire.
âKnew Iâd find it,â he says, mostly to himself. âGonna add another, okay, baby?â
You nod frantically and you hear him chuckle, but heâs not laughing at you. Heâs just mystified by how gorgeous you are like this. By how much you need him, like you might need him as much as he needs you.
The Superman robots didnât mention anything about the pollen being contagious, but then again, they werenât even entirely certain of what it is, so it could be possible. Youâve swapped enough spit with Clark by now that he wouldnât be surprised if some of it has transferred.
The thought of it just makes him feel even more needy for you. But he wonât hurt you.
He inserts a third finger, gently prodding your G-spot until youâre clenching then relaxing around him. He thrusts slow at first, warming you up to all three before he gradually spreads them, working you open.Â
Your hips grind against his palm with vigor, chasing your high while simultaneously rubbing against his cock. He ruts against your hipbone, giving you what you need and letting himself have just a little friction too.
He feels it when you start clenching around him erratically, hears it when the little whines you let out start stringing together. âGonna cum, baby?â he coos. âGonna let go for me again?â
Youâre helpless against him as you nod, pulling his face toward yours to devour his mouth.
When you cum this time, his fingers slip in even deeper, and thatâs how he knows youâre ready. Youâre sucking them in and not letting go, and the noises youâre making are music to his ears. He spills against your stomach, but only a little, because he wants nothing more than to finish inside you.
âIâve gotta be in you, honey, I-I canât wait anymore,â he groans, dragging his fingers out of you and lining himself up, his head easily slipping in from how wet you are.
âPlease,â you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. âOh Clark, please, need to feel you--â
âIâm right here, my sweet girl,â he soothes, pressing in slowly. âJust let me in.â
Your legs widen in response and he sinks impossibly deep on the first thrust, his head nestled right against your cervix, just barely kissing it. The pain of it quickly blurs into pleasure with every movement until youâre rocking against him, your body somehow trying to take him deeper, even though that isnât biologically possible.
âOh, honey,â he groans, head falling forward and he mouths at your neck, nips at your sensitive spots there. âYouâre so warm.â
You try to say something back, but it just comes out complete nonsense, except Clark catches some of the words.
âIâm so big, I know, honey, I know,â he coos, kissing your forehead. âBut youâre taking me so well, sweet girl. Feel how deep I am?â
You nod against him, wailing when he lightly presses his palm down over the slight bulge in your lower stomach, right where he knows heâs nestled without even needing to use his X-ray vision. But after having that thought, he does use it, just for a moment, just to see.
The only problem is that seeing himself so deep inside you causes his orgasm to come barrelling toward him at a terrifying speed. Heâs barely thrusting, more grinding deeper into you, once, twice, and then heâs falling over the edge, shuddering as he spills inside of you.
You gasp at the feeling, eyes going wide with how much there is. You guess it makes sense, given that heâs not exactly human, so things will be different. Like this.
And, you guess, like the fact that despite now cumming two times, heâs still just as hard as he was when you first got here. It doesnât seem like his orgasms have given him any relief.
If anything, this last one has only spurred him on even more.
âGolly,â he hisses, leaning back onto his knees, hoisting your hips up onto his thighs without slipping out of you. âAre you okay? Still feeling good?â
âYeah,â you breathe, circling your hips against his. âKeep going.â
He grins, wide and wild. âThatâs my girl,â he says, and then he pulls out, working himself inside again, seemingly in awe at how easily he slides inside. âYouâre so wet, baby,â he sounds like heâs praying. âSome of thatâs me, though, yeah?â
You nod, not even caring what heâs talking about because heâs so deep and hard inside of you that you donât know what youâre going to do without him inside you.
âWanna feel you again,â he mumbles, thumbing over your clit. âCan you give me another?â
You donât even need to nod; he feels you immediately clench around him.Â
âLove that I get to have you like this,â he whispers. âAll for me, yeah? All mine.â
âAll yours,â you gasp, writhing again. âFuck, Clark.â
âYeah?â he says, moving again, thrusting inside you and pulling all the way out before slipping back in, because he loves the way you clench and the little whine you let out when he does it. âFeels good, doesnât it? You donât need to say anything, sweet girl, I know it does. Show me how good it feels.â
You were already on the edge, but hearing him speak to you like this, when all youâve known before is quiet, sweet, bumbling Clark in the office sends you right over. The stark contrast is doing something wild to your brain, short circuiting everything until youâre spasming around him uncontrollably.
âThere we go, thatâs my sweet girl,â he soothes you, letting you ride it out against him. âCan I move you, baby? Wan-Wanna try something else. Promise itâll feel so good fâyou.â
You nod and he slowly pulls out, shushing your whines at the feeling of emptiness. He gently turns you over, places a pillow underneath your hips. He palms at your ass, unable to help himself really, before moving you where he needs you with his hands on your waist.
And he just keeps talking to himself. âThere we go, so pretty,â he says, one hand leaving your waist to caress your spine. âLaid out for me so pretty, so I can just-- O-Oh, honey.âÂ
Just the head slips inside and you squirm immediately, feeling a tiny spurt of cum enter you, and then heâs slamming forward in one devastating thrust, holding himself there. You can feel him shaking, feel him holding himself back.
âYou feel too good, baby, I-I canât,â he breaks off into another moan, hips pressing forward again, and a strangled cry leaves his lips before heâs cumming again, filling you up and spilling out around where heâs entered you. âN-No,â he whispers, sniffles. âWanted to-- Wanted to last longer.â
But heâs still not going soft, so his early orgasm only seems to deter him for a brief moment. He catches his breath, leaning over you to kiss the back of your neck, blanketing your body with his.
And then heâs moving again, barely pulling out at all before pushing back inside, carving a space deep inside you just for him, as if he needs to, as if that space wasnât already there.Â
The little noises you make are his only indication that you havenât passed out beneath him, and he takes them as his cue to continue moving, to keep slamming right into your G-spot.Â
âWanna cum together this time,â he says, and it sounds like a plea. âCan you do that for me, honey? Please, for me?â
Youâve never had this many orgasms with a partner, let alone in one night in such quick succession, but somehow it isnât a question when Clark asks if you can give him another. Itâs as if your body is perfectly attuned to him now, and if he wants you to give him another orgasm, then well, you will. Easily.
He keeps working your body perfectly, hitting all of the right spots, until heâs close and holding himself back just until he feels you right on the edge.
âLet go, honey,â he cries. âLet go with me, please, please, please.â
And you do, as if on command, your body lets go right as you feel his hips begin to stutter until heâs spilling another load in you, this one you can feel practically all of it leaking out of you and sticking to your inner thighs, and him.
Clark uses his X-ray vision almost by accident this time, just wanting to see if he can tell how full you are, and oh, he can. He tips his head back, holding onto your waist as he groans.
And then he hears you, and youâre asking for him.
âWhat is it, honey?â he asks, leaning over you to kiss your cheek. âDoing okay?â
You nod, a dopey smile on your face. âCan I--â you swallow, eyes hazy as you look at him. âCan I taste you?â
His hips involuntarily buck into you before he kisses your lips as best he can when youâre in this position. âYou wanna taste me?â
You nod frantically. âPlease?â
âOkay, honey,â he murmurs. âOkay. Yeah, anything-- Anything you want.â
He pulls out slow, careful not to hurt or shock you as he does.Â
You bounce back remarkably fast, already sitting up and sliding off the bed to sink down to your knees, hands reaching out for him. He moves willingly, stumbling around to you, cock bobbing as he goes, still impossibly hard. He wonders how long the pollen will affect him, because although he feels his mind clearing slightly, heâs definitely not feeling any less turned on. And you donât seem to be, either.
You lick him eagerly, cleaning him off first. He hisses as you do, the sensitivity starting to reach him, but it isnât so bad that he wants you to stop. He needs you to keep going.
You grab one of his hands and move it to your head, and he asks, âAre you sure?â
You nod. âWanna feel you in my throat, Clark.â
âOh, sweetheart,â he murmurs, smiling so fondly down at you. âYou tap me if itâs too much, yeah?â
You nod, but youâre not looking up at him, youâre too focused on getting your lips wrapped around his cock. And he decides to stop teasing and let you.
You surge forward, taking the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper.Â
He lets you have your way with him first, and if anything, his grip on the back of your head is so he doesnât lose control and thrust into your mouth too harshly, though it seems thatâs what you want him to do. Still, he doesnât want to hurt you, and heâs not entirely sure how much of this is you and how much of this is the possible added effects of the pollen.
His train of thought is promptly interrupted by you taking him into your throat with zero warning, pressing your nose to the neat little hairs that gather at his base.Â
âO-Oh my gosh, honey, give a guy some warning,â he chokes out, hands cradling your head.Â
You pull off of him with a cheeky grin. âSorry.â
His thumbs stroke your cheeks, shaking his head fondly at you. âEnjoying yourself?â
You nod frantically. âAre you?â
âI am, honey, I am.âÂ
âAre you feeling better?â
He nods. âI am, thank you. Still,â he pauses, rolls his shoulders. âStill turned on, less like Iâm about to die.â
You hum. âThatâs good.â Your hands explore idly while the two of you speak, ghosting over his inner thighs, close to his still-hard cock, but not actually touching him. âBut youâre not done?â
You ask it so softly, like you donât want to be done, either, and it almost breaks his heart. âNo,â he says, petting your head a little. âWe can keep going.â
âGood,â you mumble, starting to kiss him again, all along his length. âBecause Iâm not finished with you yet.â
His knees nearly buckle because you, once again, give him no warning before youâre taking him in your throat. And then you put both his hands on your head, and place your palms over his thighs, giving him full control.
Heâs so glad his brain feels a little clearer now because if this had been earlier, he really mightâve hurt you. Now he can give you what you want without the guilt and worry.
You hum around him, causing his hips to buck on their own accord. He pulls himself back to then try an experimental thrust, his head slipping right into the back of your throat with ease. And instead of moving away, you press your head forward, taking him just a little more.
âHoney,â he gasps. âYouâre being so good for me.â
Whatever you try to respond with comes out garbled nonsense around his cock, but he doesnât mind. He holds your head gently, moving you back and forth just the way he needs, and you let him.
âYou feel so good,â he groans, holding you down for just a moment before letting go, letting you breathe. âDonât wanna-- Where do you-- Oh golly-- Where do you want me to--â
You answer by wrapping your arms around his legs, moving closer on your knees, practically trapping him against you.Â
He whines, high in his throat. âO-Okay, okay, just for you, just this one, next one goes inside your pussy, though, yeah? Please?â You nod against him and he nearly cums right then, feeling the head of his cock moving in your throat. âBaby, I-Iâm not going to last much longer like this--â
That only makes you move with more fervour, like you need to feel him cumming down your throat.
He can barely gasp out a warning before heâs spilling so deep into your throat that you barely taste it, and you donât even move, you just swallow him down, humming happily to yourself.
Clark pulls you off of him after a moment, hauling you up to your feet so he can kiss you. He can feel himself softening now, just a little, but you--
The look in your eyes is wild.
âShoot,â he hisses, hands cradling your face. âSweetheart, look at me.â Your heart is racing, and maybe it has been this whole time, heâs only just now noticing because heâs finally starting to feel like himself again. âHow are you feeling?â
âHot,â you whine, arms looping around his neck. âEmpty.â
âOkay,â he says, turning and laying you down. âHoney, I thinkâŠI think some of the pollen might be in your system now.â
You just blink up at him through bleary eyes, none of his words registering in your brain. But youâre still alert, for the most part, and able to move your body just fine because the next thing he knows, youâve got your ankles locked around him.
âOkay, honey, okay,â he tries to soothe your disgruntled whines. âHurts bad, doesnât it?â
He canât imagine how youâre feeling considering he felt bad and it was designed to affect him. Youâre human.
What if it kills you?
Clark stops that train of thought before it even starts, letting your hand move down to stroke him until heâs fully hard again. He can make it better. He just needs to keep fucking you, and itâll keep working through your system until (hopefully) itâs out of it, and everything will be okay. Itâll be okay.
âClark,â you whine, lining him up with your entrance. âFeels empty.â
âI know, sweetheart, I know,â he shushes you, kissing all over your face. âIâll make it better, okay? Just let me make it better. Let me do all the work, okay?â
You nod, your hand leaving his cock to instead thread your fingers through his curls. âSo handsome.â
He beams, slipping inside you just an inch, and it's so easy after the many rounds you've endured. âThank you, darlinâ.â
Your body is pliant beneath him, just barely holding onto consciousness as he slowly rocks into you. He keeps a steady pace, and listens intently to your heart rate and breathing, just in case. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, so he continues on -- as if youâd let him stop.
âInside me this time?â you ask, but your voice is quiet, like youâre afraid heâs going to tell you no, but Clark could never. Not right now, not ever.
âYeah, honey,â he promises, kissing your nose, then your forehead. âIs that what you need?â
Your head nods erratically against the pillow. âNeed more. Not full enough.â
âJesus,â Clark swears, hips stuttering at how desperate and certain you sound. He holds onto your waist, thumbs pressing over your stomach. âIâll make it better, sweetheart, you just lay here for me, yeah? Iâll fill you up as much as you need. That sound good?â
You reach for his face and pull him down into a kiss, immediately licking into his mouth. You are ravenous, and heâs not sure how heâs going to satisfy you. He just hopes he can, because he doesnât know what this pollen is doing to your body.
Worst case scenario, he guesses, he can fly you to the Fortress and see if the Superman robots can check you over. He might do that anyway, just to be safe.
Clark keeps the same steady pace, hitting your spot over and over and over, fussing over your every whimper and whine. Tears slip from your cheeks but you arenât in any pain, just clinging to him and telling him to keep going.
You finally quiet when he spills inside you, sniffling into his neck as he holds you.
âHoney?â he asks, but he doesnât move, just stays inside you, pressing just a little of his weight into you. âYou okay?â
You nod against him but you donât speak.
Clark can feel himself going soft inside you but he doesnât dare move, not sure what you need right now and if moving might set you off.
But he doesnât want to crush you beneath him, either.
âIâm gonna move over, okay?âÂ
You immediately cling to him even tighter, even clenching around him, worried heâs going to pull out.
âJust so we can lay down,â he rushes to explain, pressing a kiss to your temple.Â
He rolls the two of you easily, putting him on his back with you on his chest, holding onto him like a little koala. Itâs endearing, really, though it worries him. Youâre just so quiet.
Clark fumbles for a blanket and spreads it over your back, his arms caging you against him. He feels your entire body relax, a content sigh leaving your lips as you snuggle even closer.
Your heart is finally slowing down, too, so he takes that as a good sign. You must just be worn out -- who wouldnât be, after all of that?
He hears your breathing even out and he smiles, trying to crane his neck to get a look at your face, but itâs hard when you have it buried in his neck.
âAre you asleep?â he whispers, though he knows the answer. He rubs slow circles on your back and you shiver just a little, inching closer to him, as if you can get any closer. âJust sleep, honey. Iâm right here.â
When you wake up, heâll have to make sure you rehydrate and eat something. Heâll probably run you a bath, too, just so you can relax your muscles even more.
And then, the two of you can talk. Because he has things he needs to confess, things he really shouldâve said to you a long time ago. Then he can plan your first date -- actually plan it out because you deserve the best, especially after today.
He hugs you close, nuzzling his cheek against your head, three words already on the tip of his tongue, but he holds them in. He wants you to be awake when he finally tells you.
Pairing | Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!ReaderÂ
Summary | Congressman James Barnes is your boss. When you begin to develop strong feelings for him, you decide to take a practical approach and download Tinder. However, when your date takes a turn for the worse, you find yourself desperately hoping for someoneâanyoneâto come to your rescue. Bucky will always be there to save you.
Warnings/tags | Between the events of CA:BNW and Thunderbolts*, fluff, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, yearning, cursing, sexual harassment (not by Bucky), angst, panic attack, nsfw, MDNI (18+), kissing, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, low-key switch!Bucky, protective!Bucky, breast play, fingering, save a horse; ride Bucky, mentions of violence, injuries, Bucky would let the world burn for Reader, no use of y/n.
Word Count | 17.8k
A/N | Hey, lovelies. Thank you for all the support on my last fic and 160 followers!! It motivated me to write this one, and Iâm pretty proud of it. To reiterate, this is only my second fanfiction, so bear with me, Iâm still learning. Thereâs a little something extra at the end because Iâm a sucker for protective Bucky. Sorry in advance for it being so lengthy. Blame my fingers for typing away without consequence. (Hahaha, youâll never stop me ~ my fingers) Hope you enjoy, and if you did, let me know or feel free to give any feedback:))
Read on AO3:)
You were falling.
No, you were clearly standing upright, but it felt like you were falling. Whenever you looked at him, you felt like the rug was being ripped out from under you.
Him being your boss, Congressman James Barnes. Heâs so handsome in a rugged, but polished way.Â
Like the white button-up heâs in now. Sure, itâs sophisticated, but he has his grey suit jacket off, draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing a bit of his forearms. A few of his top buttons are undone, leaving an immaculate view of his collarbone. That and his five oâclock shadow leave a perfect mix of rugged and polished.
The scent of his cologne is filling your nostrilsâoak, amber, and lavender. Itâs making your head spin. You feel crazy. You should not be breathing in your bossâs scent or staring at him like you are now.
Bucky is leaning over his desk, focused on a document. Heâs chewing on the end of a pen with a furrowed brow, as if the papers had personally offended him.
You let yourself take him in for a few more seconds before you step into his office. You enter with a soft knock on his door.
âI thought I told you thatâs bad for your teeth. And, if you keep scrunching your eyebrows like that, youâll get wrinkles.â You tease, your voice is light and full of warmth.
Buckyâs eyes shoot up immediately. He gapes at you momentarily before taking the pen out of his mouth and relaxing his face. He snorts and rolls his eyes, but you can see the hint of amusement in his expression.Â
âYeah, yeah. I know. Always tellinâ me what to do.âÂ
âMaybe youâll finally look your age if you get wrinkles.â You bite your lip to suppress a giggle.
Bucky shakes his head, but the corner of his lip lifts. âYouâre hilarious.â His tone is laced heavily with sarcasm.
âThank you,â you bow, your arm over your stomach as you bend. âIâll be here all week.â
âNot if I fire you.â He tilts his head, smirking.
Your jaw drops in faux shock as you cross the room to his desk. You let out a soft laugh. âSmooth, Barnes.â
He swivels in his chair to face you; itâs evident heâs enjoying the banter. Bucky leans back in his seat, elbow on his armrest with his head propped in his hand. Fuck, heâs sexy.
You gesture to the document on his desk as your face goes serious. âIf thatâs stressing you out, take a break.â
He waves you off. âNah, Iâm alright. Besides, isnât that what Iâm doinâ?â Bucky winks at you. Winks at you! What, is he trying to kill you?Â
After a beat, you clear your throat and nervously grin. Bucky motions to you as he speaks. âWhatâd you need, darlinâ?âÂ
You honestly forgot why you were even here, but you glance down at the packet in your hand, and it all comes flooding back.Â
âYouâre going to hate me.â Your expression turns apologetic. âBut I need you to read this over and sign it.â You sheepishly hand him the packet.
âI could never hate you.â He grabs the papers, and your fingers brush. You feel sparks across your flesh. Itâs like tiny fireworks coursing through your veins, threatening to reach your pounding heart. You havenât let go yet, relishing in the bit of contact.Â
You snap out of your daze and release them. Your cheeks warm, and you hope he canât see the slight flush crawling up your face. You tuck a loose strand of hair that has fallen from your bun behind your ear.Â
Buckyâs jaw sets as he places the packet off to the side. He coughs into his fist and locks eyes with you. âConsider it done. Iâll leave it on your desk before I go home.âÂ
âPerfect!â You force your voice up an octave to distract from your embarrassment. âSorry, I know you have a lot on your plate.âÂ
âAll good, itâs a part of my job.âÂ
âYeah,â You cross your arms over your chest. âBut you work too hard. Take a break.â
He arches a brow, trying to keep a straight face, but fails miserably. âLike I said, always tellinâ me what to do.â Bucky huffs air through his nose. âI could say the same for you.â
You roll your eyes at his attempt to deflect your concern. âI work a normal amount, and my break is in five, so donât worry about me.â
âIâm always worried about you.â Buckyâs voice softens.
You canât hear anything over your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Does he realize how those words affect you? You could die happy knowing youâre even a thought on Buckyâs mind.
He sits up in his seat and continues. âWhen was the last time you went home on time and didnât stay after hours?â
âI do go home on time.â Your voice squeaks; youâre lying.
Bucky lets out a dry laugh. âYouâre not foolinâ me, doll.â
âFine, if I promise to leave on time, you have to promise youâll take a break.â
He contemplates your words and then gives you a stiff nod. âOkay, I promise.â
You grin as you stick out your pinky. He stares at you with a perplexed expression. âWhatâre you doinâ?âÂ
You let out a deep sigh. âPinky promise me.â
Buckyâs eyebrows knit together. âIâm not twelve.â
You give him an unimpressed look. âYouâre right, youâre a hundred and something years old. Now give me your damn pinky.âÂ
He grunts, glaring at the ceiling as if it were the one to make him do this. He eventually concedes and interlocks his pinky with yours.Â
Your fingers tingle again at his touch. You feel like a touch-starved puppy whoâs finally getting some attention. If only both of his hands were on you, holding you by your waist and pulling you in to put his lips against yours-
You mentally punch yourself, so that thought doesnât go any further. Maybe you need to get laid. Then, all these feelings for your boss will go away. This relationship is strictly professional, so you might want to find something to keep your mind off the idea of it becoming more.Â
You straighten, beaming at him. You pull your hand away and turn on your heels to stride toward the door.
When you exit his office, you grab the handle, ready to close the door behind you. Before you do, you peek your head in. âHave a nice break.â
âYeah, you too,â Bucky grumbles.
On your way back to your desk, you're grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. This is ridiculous. You need a distraction. You pull your phone out of your blazer and download Tinder.
Bucky glances at your phone resting on his desk before refocusing on his laptop to determine where he left off with his email. Just as he gets his train of thought back-
Bzz. Bzz.
He takes a steady breath in and releases it. Why is he upset over a simple notification? He wonders why you didnât take it with you to the bathroom. Bucky sighs and begins typing away on his laptop again.
Bzz. Bzz.
What the fuck? How many notifications can you get in a minute? He nearly wants to reach over and grab it to see, but he wonât snoop into your business. Thatâs unprofessional.
Bzz. Bzz.
Bucky groans, rubbing at his eyes as he inclines back in his chair. How can he get any work done with that thing buzzing on his desk? He hears your heels clack against the wood floor as you enter his office.
âYou okay, sir?â Your pretty voice drifts through the air like a birdâs song.
Buckyâs gaze darts to you, and he gestures to your phone. âCan you get that thing under control? And I told you, stop calling me that.â His voice comes out harsher than he intended.
You raise your hands in surrender. âIâll get right to that, grumpy.âÂ
You grab your phone off the desk, glance at it, and press a button on the side. Then, you slide it into the pocket of your trousers before perching on the seat across from him.
âFuck,â he grunts under his breath, massaging his temples. âSorry, I didnât sleep much last night, but thatâs no excuse.â
You shrug and give him a soft smile. âItâs alright, I can handle your grumpy ass.â You motion to your pocket. âIâm sorry, I must have forgotten to silence my phone this morning.â
âDonât apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.â Bucky scoots forward, getting back to his email. His fingers are on the keys, but his mind is elsewhere.Â
âWhat was that all about anyway?â He points to your pocket.
You cross one leg over the other, settling into the chair. âOh, nothing. Itâs just this guy Iâve been talking to.â
Buckyâs jaw clenches, and he has to force his face to remain blank. He shouldnât be jealous. Heâs not jealous. You're his assistant, nothing more. You deserve to have a life outside of work, outside of him. Anyone would be lucky to have you.
Lucky fucking bastard.
âYeah? Whatâs his name?â Bucky lightens his tone as if it doesnât bother him, which it doesnât. He doesnât care about his name, but heâll try for your sake.Â
âUhâŠDerek.â You mutter.
His posture goes rigid. He attempts to tease you, so you donât notice. âWhatâs uhâŠDerek like?âÂ
You giggle, and itâs the sweetest sound. Like a soft patter of rain against a window. âI donât know, I guess he's nice.â
âYou guess? Havenât you been on a date with him yet?â Bucky inquires.
This is entirely unprofessional. He shouldnât be asking about your relationship status. Heâs just trying to get to know you, right? Itâs normal for bosses to ask their employees about their lives.Â
He doesnât see you that way, though. Heâd much rather label you as his equal. You do as much work as he does, if not more. He knows he could never do this job without you.
You let out a long sigh, drawing him away from his brain's constant back and forth. âNo, our first date is tomorrow.â
Bucky tilts his head. âTomorrowâs the gala, darlinâ. I kinda need you there.âÂ
If you asked for a day off, he would be more than happy to give it to you. However, he wants to be selfish. You are the highlight of his evenings at those damn events. Whenever he feels anxious or overwhelmed by all the rich bastards around him, he seeks comfort in your company.
âI know, thatâs why I invited him as my plus one. It completely slipped my mind. I should have asked you earlier this week.â
Itâs not the best situation, but youâre still going with him. He hates the thought of you being around another man all night, but heâll deal with it because itâs necessary. This is a professional relationship, and he has to accept that, even though he wishes it could be something more.
Buckyâs silent, so you continue. âI just didnât want to be alone all night. I always appreciate it when you come over to check on me, but you shouldnât have to feel obligated to.â He opens his mouth to interrupt you, but you talk right over him.
âI thought it would be easier this way. You can focus on the political side of things, and I can keep tabs from a distance like we always do, but instead, Iâll have someone to keep me company.âÂ
Youâre rambling, your words spilling out like water from a faucet. Youâre bouncing your leg and picking at your nailsâclear signs of anxiety. He recognizes these behaviors all too well, although his own anxiety manifests as a silent, gnawing feeling. In contrast, yours feels like a wildfire, all-consuming and intense.
âDoll-â Bucky tries to cut you off, to ease the tension out of your body, but your mouth is moving a mile a minute.
âGosh, what was I thinking? Itâs a dumb idea and entirely unprofessional. Iâll cancel and reschedule our date for another time.â Your gaze has shifted to a point on the wall, as if youâre dissociating.Â
He stands up from his chair and drops down to one knee in front of you. You still donât notice his existence as you keep chatting away.
âItâs not that I hate galas, I like them, but itâs easier around someone. I donât even have to talk to them just to be near them-â You stop suddenly when Bucky places his hand on your restless leg, halting its movement.
âHey, darlinâ.â Buckyâs voice is gentle, calmly trying to pull you out of your trance. His thumb strokes your knee over the fabric of your pants. Your wide eyes focus on him, and your breathing becomes erratic.
âYouâre having a panic attack. Can you breathe with me for a second?â He demonstrates breathing in and then releasing slowly. âIn through the nose, out through the mouth. Do it with me now.â
You follow his lead, breathing deeply into your nose and releasing a long breath out of your mouth.
âGood, do that a couple more times with me.â Bucky coaxes. You obey his instruction, slowing your breathing down.
Once he knows that you can breathe easier, he speaks again. âCan you tell me five things you can see?â
âHuh?â You look utterly confused.
âItâs a trick I learned in therapy. Indulge me.â Bucky continues to gently massage your knee with soothing patterns.
You give him a tight nod. Your eyes begin wandering around the room. âUhâŠyour laptop, that little white cat figurine I bought youâAlpine.â
Bucky snorts; he really loves that figurine. One day, early in his term, you were discussing pets. You asked him if he would ever consider having a pet, and he replied that he couldnât because heâs too busy. Curious about his preferences, you asked what type of pet he would choose if he had the time, and he mentioned that he liked cats. Thatâs how the cat figurine came to be. Of course, you were the one who named it.
âThatâs two. Give me three more.â
Your attention flicks back to Bucky, and he notices how drained you look. âYour tie has blue stars on it.âÂ
You lock eyes with him, and a faint smile appears on your lips. "It matches your eyes, though yours are the perfect shade of blue. That color is rare; I don't think I've seen it anywhere else."
Bucky swears that his heart skips a beat. He doesnât think heâs ever received a compliment quite like that before. He decides he only wants you to compliment him from now on.
He clears his throat when he realizes he stared at you for too long. âOne more, doll.â
You lift your gaze again, searching for something in his office. âThat dumbass painting.â You point to the wall, and Bucky pivots to see.Â
Youâre referring to the painting with dogs around a table playing poker. He chuckles, scanning your face as if your thoughts are written there and heâs trying to read them.
âWhatâs wrong with it?â Bucky sounds offended, but heâs suppressing a smirk.
âIt doesnât fit your aesthetic.â
âMy aesthetic?â The word feels foreign on his tongue, as if he were never meant to say it.
You clarify, your hands motioning to the room around you. âYour style.â
He no longer tries to hide his amusement, grinning like you are the most interesting thing in the world. âAnd, what is my style, doll?â
âDark, mysterious, clean, and youâre a minimalist.â You express it as though itâs obvious, and he canât deny your description.
âHuh, I guess Iâll remove it then. I didnât realize you had such disdain for dogs playinâ poker.â
âI donât, itâs cute,â you insist. âAnd, donât take it down. You put it there, and itâs your office.â
âNope, itâs already settled.â Bucky rises from his kneeling position with a grunt. âIâm removinâ it. I didnât put it there anyway. It was here before I became a congressman.â
Bucky grabs the pitcher of water off his desk and pours it into one of the stacked plastic cups beside it. He sits in the chair beside you and hands you the water.
âDrink.â He orders, but his voice is soft.
âNow youâre telling me what to do.â You tease, lifting the cup to your lips and gulping down the refreshing liquid.
He ignores your comment and presses on. âWanna tell me what happened to make you have a panic attack? Was it somethinâ I said?â
âNo,â Your shoulders slump forward as you release a breath. You set the empty cup down on his desk before speaking again. âIt was the silence. I immediately thought you were angry with me when you didnât say anything.â
âHave I given you any reason to believe Iâd be mad at you?â Itâs a sincere question. Youâre the only person he genuinely cares about protecting. If you think heâs upset with you, then heâs not fulfilling his role.
You shake your head, and it instantly puts his worries to rest. Bucky clasps his hands together and continues. âIâm okay with the idea of you bringinâ a plus one, I just wish you had told me-âÂ
You open your mouth to speak, but Bucky raises a hand to signal that he isn't finished. âI wish you had told me you donât like being alone.â
You furrow your brow, surprised by his unexpected response. You bite your lip, searching for the right words to express your feelings.
âIâm not your responsibility.â You murmur. Thereâs no malice behind your words, just a woman whoâs done things on your own for far too long and doesnât want to ask for help.
âNo, youâre not.â Bucky begins. âBut weâre a team, and if secrets exist between us, this doesnât work.â
Heâs such a hypocrite. Heâs holding back vital information from you. Bucky likes you, and no one can pry that knowledge from him. Feelings are fleeting; whatever he feels towards you will fade eventually. Right?
You smile sweetly, your eyes crinkling at the corners. Itâs like the sun has entered the room. Youâre bright and blinding. Youâll destroy him from the inside out if he looks for too long.Â
He doesnât mind the idea of that, though. He was yours to take apart anyway. How can he move on when you look like that, and you make him feel like this?
âYouâre right. No more secrets.â
âDamn right, Iâm always right.â His expression is all smug, which prompts you to roll your eyes and giggle, but it seems somewhat frail.
Bucky gets up from his spot. âYou should go home. I got it from here.â
You stand to meet his eyes, defiance etched on your face. âNo, Iâm fine. I was going to help you-â
He cuts you off. "If you want to help me, go home. Get some rest, darlinâ. Iâll see you at the gala, and you can introduce me to uhâŠDerek.â
You snort, shaking your head. âYou are not making that a thing.â
âOh, Iâm definitely making that a thing.â Bucky puts his hands on his hips. âNow, go before I fire you.â
You narrow your gaze. âFine, but you canât keep threatening to fire me when itâs convenient for you.â
âNah, I like seeinâ the look on your face every time I say it.â His smirk is wide and arrogant. You glare at him in response, and itâs adorable.
He tips his head in the direction of the door. âDo you need a ride home?â
Your expression softens. âNo, Iâll manage.â He gives you a stiff nod.
You amble towards the door, but pause, peeking over your shoulder. âThank you, Barnes. For everything.â
Bucky staggers slightly. He would do anything for you. He doesnât need a thank you in return, but it sounds too good coming from your lips. Heâs staring at you like a damn fool, undoubtedly with hearts in his eyes.
âOf course, doll.â He mumbles. You hum and proceed forward, stepping out of the door and out of Buckyâs view.
As soon as you leave, he flops back down in the chair. He lets out a long sigh, metal hand running down his features.Â
How will he manage a whole night with another man's arm around you?Â
Youâre leaning against the bar, glass in hand, and patiently waiting.Â
No, pacing by the bar and fixing your hair for the tenth time tonight is not what anyone would describe as patience. You have never been a patient person, and you can thank your anxiety for that.
You arrived at the venue about half an hour ago, an hour before the gala even starts. You like to be on time or extremely early. Thereâs no in between.Â
The real reason you arrived early was to meet Derek before the event. You wanted to chat and get acquainted before everyone else arrived.Â
Heâs late. You would understand if he had sent a quick text saying he would be there soon, but you havenât received anything in an hour.
You spent the last twenty minutes pacing back and forth. The bartender noticed your nerves and slid a glass of water your way. Youâve been sipping on it while trying to fix your curled strands. This is why you usually wear your hair upâso you donât have to worry about adjusting it repeatedly. Then thereâs your dress, which you keep fussing with.
You wore a navy satin dress with a plunging neckline that revealed just enough cleavage. The back was mostly open, featuring crisscross straps. The dress hugged your curves perfectly and accentuated your figure, making your ass look fantastic. You exuded elegance along with just the right amount of sultriness.
It wasnât your typical style, and the thought of revealing too much of yourself made you feel insecure. Since you hadnât been on a date in a while, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to try something bold. Now, you worry that after putting in so much effort, he might end up standing you up.
You continue to drink your water, letting it cool you. You almost wish you had something a bit stronger to ease the tension in your body.
Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you as a warm hand brushes your arm. You quickly turn your head around.
Damn. Congressman Barnes.
He looks like snow cast in shadow under the midnight sky, with the snowflakes illuminated only by the moonlight. Heâs wearing a crisp white button-up shirt over a black tuxedo and dark dress pants. Although his bow tie is crooked, it doesnât matter at all. Bucky wears suits every day, but tonight he looks incredibly handsome with his hair slicked back and his blue eyes shining.
Shit. Youâre gawking at him. To distract him from your flustered state, you flash him a wide smile. His warm flesh hand rests gently on your arm, but after a moment, he acknowledges that he is still touching you, and he lets his hand fall away.
Bucky opens and closes his mouth several times before spitting it out. âYou lookâŠlovely.âÂ
Your smile falters slightly, and you feel your breath become heavier in your lungs from that simple word. Sure, he has complimented you before, but this feels different. You can't quite put your finger on why, though.
âThank you.â Your voice is delicate, and your grin turns genuine, unlike the showy one from before. âYou don't look too bad yourself.â
Bucky huffs air out of his nose, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes seem to penetrate your very being, as if he's tearing through your flesh to truly understand every part of you. He knows your most vulnerable sides and didn't flinch. So, whatâs the harm in him seeing everything?
You turn your gaze away from his eyes, afraid of losing yourself in them. Your eyes shift to his neck as you take a step forward until you're directly in front of him.
âYou look perfect, but can I make one minor adjustment?âÂ
He gives you a firm nod in response. You extend your arms to grip both sides of his bow tie and adjust it to your liking.
âGreat,â Bucky grumbles. âI canât even dress myself properly.âÂ
âYou did fine, it was just a bit crooked. Sometimes all a man needs is a womanâs touch to look presentable.â Thereâs a teasing lilt to your tone.Â
After adjusting, you rest your hand over the middle of the bow tie. Glancing up into his piercing blues, you realize how close you are.
You swear heâs reading every one of your thoughts as if theyâre on full display. Itâs intimidating, yet his eyes tell you heâll treasure them, keeping them tucked away in his mind in a special spot just for you.
His cologne envelops you like a warm hug, drawing you in as if urging you to kiss him. You find yourself captivated by the scent, which clouds your mind and impairs your logical thinking.
Instead, you gently pat him and take a step back, admiring your work. âNow youâre ready for your close-up, Congressman Barnes.â
He shakes his head and playfully rolls his eyes. âThanks, doll.â He peers around the room. âWhereâs uhâŠDerek?â
You let out a lengthy sigh. âYour guess is as good as mine.â
He looks puzzled, so you clarify, âWe were supposed to meet thirty minutes ago, but he hasnât shown up or even sent a text.â
Bucky clenches his jaw, but releases it as if the tension was never there. âWould you like me to wait with you?â
You wave your hand as if to shoo him away. "No, please, go mingle."
He seems like he might press the issue, but gives you a tight-lipped smile. âWell, as soon as he gets here, Iâm givinâ him a piece of my mind for makinâ a pretty girl wait.â
Heâs stolen the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for just a bit of air to keep from suffocating. It feels as if he hasnât realized that his sweet words are slowly killing you. Then, he walks away as if nothing had happened.
Air rushes into your lungs again, overwhelming you as if itâs choking you. Youâre panting like you ran a marathon, yet your feet remain planted in the same spot.
You pull out your phone from your purse and shoot Derek another text.
Iâm at the bar whenever you get here.
You need him here now. The whole reason you put yourself out there is to distract your heart from liking someone you canât be with. And once again, Bucky has turned your world upside down. You must avoid your feelings before they sink their teeth into your vulnerable, beating heart.
Minutes go by, and finally, you see a familiar figure moving around the ballroom. Derek is even more attractive in person. He carries himself with confidence, and his presence fills the space, as if his frame were larger than it actually is.
He is wearing a casual beige polo shirt loosely tucked into mocha-colored trousers, paired with loafers. His dark hair is perfectly coiffed around his eyes, and the sleeves of his shirt fit tightly around his biceps.
It seems he wore it intentionally for that reason, and you donât mind. You can appreciate some muscle; thereâs nothing wrong with showcasing something you worked hard for.
Of course, appearances arenât everything for you. You matched with him because of his impressive profile. He works as a financial manager, which shows he is skilled with money. He has a dog named Luna, who is a husky. In his free time, he has hosted multiple charity events and volunteers at homeless shelters.
Derek seems like the perfect guy on paper. From your conversations with him, he checks all the right boxes: heâs kind, caring, and communicates well. The only downside is that he left you waiting for almost two hours. However, you believe in not judging someone based on first impressions, so youâre genuinely excited to see how this date unfolds.
You eventually wave him over. âDerek, hey!â
He immediately responds to the sound of your voice, greeting you with an easy smile as he checks you out.
Being examined by an objectively handsome man should elicit some feelings, right? You might expect butterflies in your stomach, your skin to heat, or your heart to skip a beat. But it does nothing for you. Not like when Bucky even glances your way, then your palms become instantly sweaty.
Stop thinking about Bucky and focus on the man approaching you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a quick hug while you drape your arms around his neck. You might feel rigid in his embrace, like stiff cardboard. As he steps back, you remind yourself to relax and not let your nerves get the better of you.
Derek leans back to get the full view of you up close. âDamn, youâre hotter in person.â
Oh, what an interesting way to start a conversation. You can't help but think of Bucky and how gently he spoke about your appearance, as if it were difficult for him to express what he was seeing in just a few words. In contrast, Derek is quite bold. Perhaps that's a good thing?
âThank you, youâre very handsome in person.â
He smirks at you like he knows it. âYeah, I get that a lot.â He pushes his hair back and deliberately flexes his arm muscles. âListen, Iâm sorry Iâm late. Something came up.â
Well, thatâs vague. Itâs fine, youâre over it. At least heâs here now.
âAll good,â you gesture toward the bar seats. âWould you like to sit?â He nods, climbing onto one of the stools, while you take the one next to him.
âWhatâre we drinking?â Derek claps his hands and rubs them together.Â
âIâm on the job, so unfortunately, it's just water for me. You can go ahead, it's an open bar.âÂ
âCome on,â he pokes you in the side. âJust one, I wonât tell anyone.â
You lightly giggle. âNo, really, I shouldnât.â
He rolls his eyes, and he seems annoyed. âYouâre no fun.â
Derek turns to the bartender and orders a rum and Coke. Your water is refilled. You turn in your seat, resting your jaw on your hand, and wait for the conversation to flow.
As the night progressed, the date hadnât. Derek only seemed to want to talk about himself, which would have been fine if he had included you in the conversation. Instead, he spoke right over you and didn't ask about you once.
You nod along and actively listen. He takes full advantage of the open bar while you stay hydrated. He is not at all what you expected and is completely different from the man you texted daily.
Thereâs a beat of silence, and you take that opportunity to finally get a word in. âI read on your profile that you do charity work. What charity did you last host for?â
Derek shrugs. âNo idea, my dad is in charge of all that shit.â
âHuh?â You give him a perplexed expression.
âMy dad runs the company where I work and organizes the charity events. Sometimes I don't even bother showing up.â He chuckles as if itâs funny, but you donât laugh.
You change the topic since he doesn't know anything about it. "What kind of volunteer work do you do at homeless shelters?"
âThat was a lie.â He takes a deep breath before continuing. âLook, it's tough out here for us men. Sometimes, you have to lie to even get a date with these self-absorbed women.â
You suppress your growing anger. Why would someone lie about that? You feel like you need to make an excuse to run to the bathroom.
Derek leans closer to you. âBut youâre different, sweetheart.â His hand wraps around your waist, and you can smell alcohol on his breath.
He presses his mouth to your ear and whispers. âMaybe we can find a private room in this place.â Derekâs hand drifts down your back and he grabs your ass.
Your body tenses up, and you feel extremely uncomfortable. He just squeezed your ass as if he had the right to do so. You hadnât given any indication that such behavior was acceptable. Even if you had, he should have asked for permission before touching you in that way.
You hardly know each other. You know almost everything about him, but he knows very little about you. Youâre trying to lean away from him to breathe air that isnât his, but heâs holding you close.
You almost convince yourself that this is what you want, but your body rejects the idea. The thought of having sex with him makes you feel physically ill. Heâs drunk and would only be using you for his own pleasure, which wouldnât be enjoyable for you at all. You crave meaningful sex, not a brief distraction to forget about your boss.
Your breathing is shallow, and you begin to shake. You try to speak, but the words wonât come out. Silently, you pray for anyone to come to your rescue. Although you could push him off you, you canât find the strength; you feel frozen.
Save me, please, you think. You donât know exactly who youâre pleading to, but you hope someone can somehow hear you.
Bucky has been watching you all night, especially when Derek arrived. He was supposed to go over and introduce himself to your date, but he didn't have the courage to do it.Â
Heâs fine with watching from a distance. He doesnât have to hear you laugh at Derekâs jokes or look at him with your beautiful, sparkling eyes.
He places himself so that he can catch a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye during every conversation he has with the wealthy assholes. He hardly pays attention to what they are saying because he is concerned about you. While he adds a few remarks to each topic, he isnât genuinely interested in their responses.
Bucky becomes especially interested in your date when Derek leans in closer. He clenches his fist and grinds his teeth in frustration. He almost looks away, but notices how uncomfortable you appear. Though Bucky is quite a distance away from you, he knows exactly what he saw.
You attempt to pull away from Derek, but he only draws you closer. Meanwhile, Bucky has vanished without a word to the person he was talking to. He moves through the crowd with purpose, as if on a mission that no one can interrupt.
Derek leans back to examine your face, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. Bucky feels a wave of nausea; he can tell you're not interested in Derek's advances because you appear to be panicking internally.
Bucky clears his throat as he stands behind you. Derek eventually lowers his hand, and the tension instantly leaves your body. You glance back at Bucky, and your breathing becomes lighter.
âCan I borrow you for a second?â Bucky nearly grits the words out through his teeth.
âSure.â You turn in your seat and begin to get off, but Bucky is there with a hand out to help you. You grin in appreciation and use his hand to leap down.
After youâre down, Buckyâs hand falls back to his side. You turn to Derek while motioning towards Bucky. âThis is my boss, Congressman Barnes.â You swivel around to Bucky. âBarnes, this is Derek.â
Bucky nods in Derekâs direction but avoids making eye contact. Derek stumbles out of his seat, clearly drunk and struggling to hold his liquor.
âCongressman, itâs an honor to meet you,â Derek slurs as he stands in front of Bucky, extending his hand. âLet me just say, your campaign was inspiring.â
Bucky takes a moment to push down the raging fire crawling up his throat. âThanks.â He grunts and takes Derekâs outstretched hand with his metal one. His grasp is unyielding, as if one wrong move could snap all the bones in Derekâs hand.
âShit,â Derek growls as he grimaces in pain. âStrong grip you have there.â
Bucky grins mischievously as he claps his hand on Derekâs shoulder. "Sorry, sometimes I don't know my own strength." He then releases his hand and steps back, offering his arm to you.
You link your arm with his, resting your hand on his forearm. âIâll be right back,â you assure your date, but he secretly clutches his hand as if the bones have shattered.
Bucky guides you away, his expression marked by irritation. You glance up at him and squeeze his bicep with your free hand. âWhatâs wrong, grumpy?â
âNothing. Why would anything be wrong?â Bucky mutters, keeping his eyes forward, as if youâll see the reason swimming there if he looks at you.
âI donât know; you tell me.â You stop, making Bucky halt and glance in your direction. Your eyes show concern. âAre the rich bastards stressing you out?âÂ
You reach up, placing your thumb on Buckyâs forehead, rubbing out the frown lines between his eyebrows. His eyes flutter closed at the sensation as he lets you melt away the tension with your touch.
You hum and remove your thumb from its spot when you register that all the strain in his forehead is long gone. Bucky peels his eyes open again as he speaks. âWhat stress, darlinâ?â
You giggle, and it lights up the entire room. âI swear it was there a second ago.â You tease, patting his forearm. âWhatâd you need me for, Barnes?âÂ
Shit. Bucky didnât fully consider the consequences; he just wanted to help you escape that uncomfortable situation.
So, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. âI need a second opinion. Could you listen in on the conversation? Let me know whatâs worthy of my attention.â
âOf course, lead the way.â You answer with warmth in your voice.
Bucky guides you towards a group of people in suits engaged in conversation. You both join the discussion, and Bucky introduces you. You shake a few hands and receive a warm welcome. As the conversation resumes, you actively participate in it.
Bucky is impressed by your enthusiasm for political topics. Words come easily to you, and you have a wealth of knowledge. He always knew you were intelligent, but witnessing you in action is captivating.Â
The conversation shifts to more personal matters, including families, properties, and everyoneâs golf score. You and Bucky donât participate in that section of the discussion.Â
You angle your mouth to Buckyâs ear and whisper. âI should get back, but let me know if you need anything.â
He doesnât want you to leave. Things are easier with you around. Bucky canât let you return to that jerk, whoâs drunk and trying to take advantage of you.
Bucky gently grabs your arm before you leave and leads you away from the suits for a private conversation. âAre you sure thatâs a good idea?â
âYeah, why wouldnât it be?â You respond, trying to avert Buckyâs gaze.
âDarlinâ,â He begins. âI saw him touch you.â
You shrug, acting as if itâs no big deal. âThatâs typically how things go on dates.â
Bucky shakes his head. âNot like that.â
âPlease, stay out of it.â Your voice is small, like you donât want to argue with him right now.
âWhat if he tries that shit again?â Bucky doesnât mean to raise his voice at you, but he loathes this situation. He wants more than anything to protect you, even if you're not his to protect.
âThen, Iâll handle it. Iâm very capable of doing things myself.â You match his tone, clearly showing that youâre getting upset with him.
He wants to avoid making you angry, so he tries to make his voice sound lighter and more compassionate. âI know youâre capable, but I want you to be safe. Iâm not convinced you're safe with him.â
You take a deep, shaky breath, and Bucky sees this as a signal to continue. âIâm not trying to tell you what to do, but you shouldn't waste your time on him. He disrespected you, and I donât think he deserves a second chance.â
âWell, I believe everyone deserves a second chance.â You state calmly.
Bucky scoffs. âNot everyone, doll.â
You donât miss a beat. âYou did.â
Bucky's shoulders slump as he reflects on your words. He has always struggled to believe he deserves forgiveness for his past. Although he knows, on some level, that he had no other choice, that doesn't erase the lives he took and the families he destroyed.
Those feelings will never fade, no matter how often heâs told âit wasnât himâ. He still has to live with the screams and gore he witnessed with his own hands. When he relives those memories, itâs his hand that is doing the killing, even if itâs dark now instead of the silver one in his nightmares.Â
It's not an out-of-body experience where he watches the soldier do his bidding. No, it's all Bucky; that's clear to him. Now, he's questioning his judgment all because of you. With just two simple words and that twinkle in your eye, you convinced him that he deserved a second chance and that he is worthy of the life heâs living now.
How does she do that? That must be a superpower or something.
âListen,â you begin again. âI appreciate your concern, but please let me do this.â
Buckyâs hand drops from your arm as if he's enchanted. He doesn't want to tell you what to do; God knows he's had enough of that in his lifetime. He shouldn't do that to you either.
âYouâre going to give me wrinkles with all this stress youâre puttinâ me through, darlinâ.â His gaze narrows at you.
âAw, you poor thing,â you smirk. âSeriously, please donât stress. You're first on my contact list, if anything goes wrong.â
First on your contact list? Bucky wonât dwell on that too much, for his own sake. He rolls his eyes, and you chuckle at his disapproval.Â
You step towards him and quickly kiss his cheek. Bucky practically melts at the brief contact. As you pull away, your eyes shine with forming tears. âThank you for always looking out for me. I truly donât deserve you.â
Bucky is stunned into silence as he stares at you, dumbfounded, as if you just told him the world is falling apart. He wants to say it's the oppositeâthat he doesnât deserve youâbut the words are stuck in his throat, as if heâs choking on them.
You smile at him as if you can read his thoughts, and one of the tears rolls down your face. You turn and stride away. Before he knows it, the crowd has engulfed you.
There's a sharp pain in his chest. For some reason, he feels like he just lost you. Bucky should have fought harder for you. Although he doesnât deserve you, he would treat you right.
If it were Bucky instead, he would have a hand on the small of your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and asking you to dance. He would take his time with you, making you feel like you were something special, because you are special.
Now he has to spend the next hour drifting in and out of meaningless conversations while he worries about you.Â
You wipe the tears from your eyes as you return to the bar. Youâve never felt so deeply cared for in your life, and you refuse to take it for granted. Already, youâre planning ways to show your gratitude to Bucky, making sure he knows how much you appreciate him and everything he has done for you.
You spot Derek still at the bar where you left him. His head is resting in his hand, and it looks like he has switched to water. Sneaking up behind him, you say with a hint of amusement in your tone, âDid you drink them dry of all their alcohol?â
Derek spins around, and upon seeing you, he bursts out laughing. âNo, I thought this would help me sober up faster.â He lifts his glass.
You hum in response. Derek jumps down from his stool and faces you. âIâm sorry about earlier. I was out of line. First, I shouldnât have gotten drunk on a date. Work was frustrating me, and you were making me nervous. I thought the alcohol might help, but I realize now that it only made things worse.â
Derek takes a deep breath. âSecond, I talked about myself the whole time. That was not fair to you. I didnât even ask you anything; I just rambled on and on about shit that doesnât matter.â
âThird,â he rubs the back of his neck. âThe biggest mistake. I shouldnât have touched you like that. That was highly inappropriate, and I should have asked you before even thinking about it.â
Wow, you weren't expecting that, but you're pleasantly surprised. It doesnât justify what he did, but at least heâs taking accountability.Â
âI think we need a do-over. What do you think?â You offer.
Derek seems relieved by your words. âThat sounds great.â
You give him a kind smile. âHow about a walk?âÂ
He glances down at your attire. âIn heels?â
You snort. âIâll take them off.â
âIâll carry them for you.â He winks at you. You already feel more at ease with this new start.
Derek motions for you to follow him out of the room, and you do. You stroll side by side through the hallway. His fingers gently brush against yours, as if silently asking for permission. You feel warmth in your chest and heat rising in your cheeks.
He pauses by the coat room and motions to it. âI gotta get my jacket quick.â You nod for him to go ahead, and he steps inside.Â
You lean against the doorframe as you pull your phone out of your purse. âI should send my boss a text before we leave.â You swiftly type something out and send it to Bucky.
Change of plans, weâre going for a walk. If you need anything, donât hesitate. I promise Iâll make it up to you tomorrow. You can make me work extra :)Â
Derek grabs his leather jacket and throws it on. âI thought youâd never get away from him.â
You put your phone back in your purse, and your brow furrows. âHmm?â
âI thought he was going to hold you hostage all night.â
âWell, he is kind of my job.â You shrug with a grin on your lips.
âI know that,â Derek crosses his arms over his chest. âDonât get me wrong, he seems like a nice guy, he just asks a lot of you.â
âI donât think he asks enough of me, honestly. I have the easiest job.âÂ
He tilts his head. âYou donât think heâs demanding or testy?â
âNot at all. Sure, he sometimes gets grumpy, but I know he means well,â you admit. Derek quirks a brow, then dips his head and shakes it. He stays quiet for a moment.
You press the matter because you're curious. âYou seem like you want to say something else.â
âItâs nothing.â Derek waves you off.
âCome on, just say it.â Your tone is playful..
Derek takes a deep breath as he contemplates whether to say whatâs on his mind. âI mean, heâs kind of a murderer.â
Your body stiffens, and you frown; you are entirely disgusted by the fact that he said that.
"No, he's not." Your voice is firm and unwavering.
âYouâre defending him? I get that you work for him, but you donât have to follow him blindly.â
You scoff. âOf course, Iâm defending him. He was brainwashed for fuckâs sake and he didnât have a choice. How would you like to be stripped of your choices and used as a weapon?â
Your blood is boiling. Why were you so naive to think that this guy was anything other than a jerk? Derek disrespected you, and now he's doing the same to Bucky. You should have listened to your boss when he advised you not to give this guy another chance.
âYou believe that shit? He almost broke my fucking hand, shaking it. That seems like a conscious mind, freely being violent, to me.â Derek shouts.
You could laugh because you werenât aware that Bucky tried to break his hand. You thought Derek was exaggerating, but now you realize he wasnât.
Youâre finished with this discussion. You need to walk away before you become âfreely violent.â You start to march away, but stop and turn around when Derek speaks again.
âHold on, I see what this is. You follow Barnes around like a lost puppy because you want something from him.â
You let out a dry laugh. You canât believe youâre still listening to this guy like he has anything relevant to say.
Derek gets closer to you again. âNo wait, I got it. Youâre trying to get in his pants for a promotion.â
Your heart pounds with anger as you glare at Derek. âNot that I owe you an explanation, but I truly love my job, asshole.â
âNo one wants to be an assistant.âÂ
âWell, this date is over.â You stomp down the hallway, attempting to get some distance from him.
âItâs a shame.â You glance over your shoulder, and heâs giving you a condescending smile. âYou would have been a decent fuck.â
Your hands ball into fists tightly, and your fingernails dig into your palms. You shouldnât even be entertaining Derek, but you yell back anyway. âThatâs your problem, huh? You think with your two inch dick rather than your brain.â
You can tell that bothered him. âYouâre just mad because I figured you out.â You roll your eyes, and your feet shift forward again. âThatâs right. Go cry to your boss and beg him to fuck you.â
You keep moving, unbothered by his shouts. Derek continues, much to your dismay, âI knew you were desperate, but I didnât realize you were also a slut.â
Your movements falter slightly. Out of everything Derek said, thatâs what affects you the most. It feels heavy on your chest. Everything he mentioned about you and Bucky feels like weights tied to your ankles, dragging you down. Your vision blurs as tears prick your eyes.
You hear a door shut in the distance, and you hope that means heâs gone because you canât hold back your tears any longer. You need to sit down, but the waterfall of tears obstructs your vision. You find a wall to lean against and slowly slide down into a sitting position.
You pull your knees to your chest and sob. Tears stream down your cheeks as you gasp for air in a broken cry.
Change of plans, weâre going for a walk. If you need anything, donât hesitate. I promise Iâll make it up to you tomorrow. You can make me work extra :)Â
Bucky has been standing in the same spot for several minutes, staring at your text. Heâs thinking about whether to find you and take you home or stay put like you asked him to.
He struggles to follow your precise instructions; stay out of it. He strides out of the room like a tracking dog following a scent. As soon as he exits the ballroom, he hears it.
Muffled cries fill his ears, and he knows itâs you without even looking. Your back is against the wall, but youâre curled in on yourself. He tentatively steps over to you, so he doesnât startle you.
âDarlinâ?â Buckyâs tone is tender, full of sympathy. Heâs never seen you like this, and it breaks his heart.
Your head snaps up from your knees. Your red, tired eyes dart over Buckyâs form. You quickly wipe the tears from your face and force a weak smile.
You point your thumb toward the ballroom. âIâll be in; I just need a minute.â Your voice is thick with unshed tears.
âNo,â he declares as he walks over to you, positioning himself against the wall while maintaining a little distance to give you space. He grabs the fabric of his dress pants at his thighs and adjusts them before sitting down beside you.
Bucky stretches out his legs and lets the quiet settle between you, interrupted only by your sniffles. After a while, he decides to continue his statement. âYouâre going to sit with me for as long as you need.â
Once you can breathe clearly and the occasional tear falls, you mumble, âYou should have broken his hand.â
Bucky lets out a nervous chuckle. âYou saw that?â
âSort of, butâŠDerek confirmed my suspicions.â Itâs a struggle for you to get his name out as if itâs strangling you from the inside.
He clenches his jaw, furious that Derek hurt you and that Bucky could have prevented it. But then again, youâre stubborn, and he knows you would eventually find a way to return to your date, even if he physically tried to hold you back. Yes, heâs a super soldier, but he doesnât stand a chance against you when your heart is set on something.
âDo you wanna talk about it?â Bucky murmurs.
You shake your head. âNot right now, maybe later.â You wipe a stray tear from your jaw and rest your chin on your knee, examining a point on the opposite wall.
Bucky's heart squeezes in his chest. He doesn't know what to say or do. When he feels pain, he prefers to sit in silence. Maybe thatâs what you want, so he chooses not to speak.
You break the stillness with a question. âYou know how we said no secrets?â
He nods his head even though your focus isnât on him. âYeah.â
You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze. The color of your eyes is dim, and the skin around them is swollen.
âI donât want to be alone tonight.â Your voice cracks as if thereâs a threat of more tears yet to come.
Bucky's throat tightens as he watches you. The sight is like witnessing a butterfly losing its wings yet struggling to stay aloft. You keep falling, desperately pleading for someone to save you from your impending doom. Bucky has been there for you, arms wide open; heâs just waiting for you to notice him.
âCould we do our post-gala recap tonight instead of tomorrow morning?â you ask, sounding uncertain, and his heart shatters.
âWorks for me, doll.â Buckyâs lips lift at the corners. You return his smile, albeit smaller. At least he got that much.Â
âDamnit,â his eyebrows knit together, deep in thought. âI didnât bring my keys for the building. I can swing by my apartment-â
You interrupt him. âWe can go to your apartment instead.â Your following words tumble out of you like you canât hold back your growing anxiety. âIf that doesnât make you uncomfortable.â
âThat doesnât make me uncomfortable at all.â He reassures, and your expression softens.
You nod and relax against the wall behind you. âI think Iâm going to wait in my car, if thatâs alright with you. I donât feel like being in a crowd.â
Bucky scoffs in amusement; he wouldn't leave you alone in your car, especially not like this. You just admitted that you didn't want to be by yourself.
âNo,â he stands up to his full height. You were baffled, staring at him with wide eyes. Your expression read What do you mean ânoâ, but you were hesitant to question his authority.
He offers you his hand and clears up your confusion. âWeâre leaving.â
âNow?â You inspect his outstretched hand and then his face.
âYes, now. Youâre ridinâ with me.âÂ
âBut, my car-â
Bucky cuts you off. âIâll bring you back.â He waves his extended hand around. âTake my damn hand.â
You comply, allowing him to help you to your feet. âAlways telling me what to do,â you smirk, and he can't help but chuckle. You brush off invisible dirt from your dress and look up at him.
Fuck, youâre the prettiest thing heâs ever seen, even with your exhausted eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Youâre like a sunset, with colors in full vibrancy. Reds and oranges swirl together to create the masterpiece that is you.
âIs there something on my face? Oh shit, did I cry all my mascara off? The packaging said it was waterproof.â You grumble as if youâre furious about your makeup. He can just see you writing a lengthy review about how you bawled your eyes out, and the mascara didnât hold up.
He shakes his head and chuckles. "No, your mascara is fine." He doesn't know why, but he admits the truth about why he was openly gawking at you: "I was staring because you're beautiful."
You blink multiple times at him, then he notices your cheeks flush. âJames, IâI know I look like a wreck. Donât lie,â you stammer out.
Bucky smirks at the sound of his first name. He rarely hears you call him anything other than âBarnes,â but when you're serious or scolding him, you use âJames.â He lives for those moments, just to hear you say his name that way.
He shrugs. "Logically, you should. But you're beautiful, no matter the circumstances."
Youâre attempting to suppress a smile, but failing. âYou canât say things like that.â
A charming smirk appears on Buckyâs face. âWhy not?â
âBecause,â youâre searching for the best answer, âyouâre going to give me a big head.â
âDonât worry, Iâll help you hold it up.â He winks at you.
Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. You playfully roll your eyes and slap his arm. âAre you going to keep flirting, or are you taking me to your apartment?â
Is that what he was doing? Talking to you like this felt so effortless that he didnât even realize he was flirting. He enjoyed it and wanted to continue. He liked seeing you all flusteredâthe way you tried to pretend you didnât like it, but your flushed cheeks gave you away.
Bucky tilts his head. âI can do both. Iâm a great multitasker.â
Your lips part and you suck in a breath. Now heâs thinking that little comment he just made could have a double meaning. Maybe he intended it that way because you definitely took it like that. And, damn, now heâll be thinking about it the whole way home.
âUh-huh, I bet you are.â You reply in a mocking tone.
Bucky could do this forever with you and never tire of it. However, he knows that this is extremely inappropriate. No matter how much he wants you, he understands he canât have you.
He wants to be the person who makes you laugh, comforts you on tough days when you're feeling anxious, kisses your shoulder when he wakes up beside you, and holds you in his arms to relieve his stress, as you melt away his tension. He craves all the cheesy, romantic moments that come with being in a relationship with you.
But you are unattainable. Youâre his assistant. Bucky feels like all the other creepy political figures who fantasize about being with someone who works for them. They get a sickening power high from it.Â
Thatâs not how he sees it, though. At least, thatâs what he tells himself. Unlike the other wealthy assholes who view their employees as mere possessions, he perceives you as something precious that he doesnât deserve. Perhaps thatâs why he believes he canât have you â because he thinks youâre too good for him.
âReady, darlinâ?âHe eventually asks. You nod, still grinning. If he sees you smile like that one more time, he might not be able to stop his common sense from flying out the window.
Bucky offers you his arm, and you wrap yours through the opening, gripping his bicep as he leads you out of the building. He calls for the car to come around and helps you into it, placing a protective hand over your head to prevent you from bumping it.
Once he knows youâre safely inside, he squeezes his eyes shut and wills the feelings within him to stop burrowing into his heart. Itâs like a festering wound he can never quite be free of.Â
One hell of a wish that is. Heâll never get rid of these maddening feelings for you.
The car ride to Buckyâs apartment is mostly quiet, which is fine with you because your mind is keeping you thoroughly entertained.
Congressman James Barnes was flirting, and he was flirting with you. He called you beautiful and meant it, even when your face was streaked with dried tears. He winked at you, and you felt your stomach flutter instantly.
You were foolish to think one date would erase these feelings, because now that you know him, no man will ever compare. Youâll constantly hold everyone to the standard set by Bucky.
Bucky's driver approaches his apartment building, which appears to be quite expensive based on its exterior. You know that this apartment was provided to him by the government upon his return to the States; it was part of the deal for his pardon. He received a nice apartment situated high enough that no one would disturb him, but the government was keeping a close eye on him.
It made you feel nauseous just thinking about it, even though he wasnât being monitored closely at the moment. It was absurd that he had been under constant surveillance in a home he never chose. Hydra had taken away all of Buckyâs choices, so why couldn't he even decide something as simple as where he lives?
You open the door to get out, but you hear another door slam, causing you to stop. Then, Bucky jogs around the car to stand in front of you with his hand out. Ever the gentleman.
You smile and take his human hand to help you out of the car. His metal hand rests gently atop your head again as you exit. You feel like a princess with this kind of treatment.
Bucky subtly waves to his driver as the car pulls away. He then guides you inside, takes you to the elevator, and directs you down the hall to his apartment.
Once inside, you were surprised by how charming and modern it was. It wasn't at all what you had imagined, but you liked it.
âMake yourself at home.â Bucky passes you and wanders into the kitchen. âCan I get you something to drink?â
âWater, please,â you murmur, still taking in your surroundings. You take off your heels at the door, not to be polite, but because your feet are killing you.
You pad into the kitchen after him, and heâs putting ice in a glass. The kitchen is bright white with a splash of color. Thereâs an island with stools lined up along it, and thatâs where you decide to âmake yourself at homeâ.
You lift yourself onto the stool, and Bucky slides your water glass over the counter. You nod in thanks and take a sip. He then disappears down the hallway that youâre certain leads to his room.
He returns without his tuxedo jacket, bowtie, and shoes. His collar is unbuttoned, and he's rolling up his sleeves as he rounds the island to sit beside you. Every time you see him like this, you can't help but internally freak out.
You nearly choke on your water, and heâs there with a hand gently patting you on the back. âYou okay there?â
âOf course, just drank it too fast.â You nervously smile, hoping he misses your lie. Bucky drops his hand when you stop coughing.
You need to change the subject because you have to stop thinking about how dreamy he looks. âWhere would you like to start?âÂ
You take your purse from your shoulder and place it on the surface to dig for your phone. âI donât have my laptop, but I can write your thoughts down on my notes app and transfer them to a document later.â
He shakes his head and grabs your wrist, pausing your action. âWe can do that tomorrow. Relax, talk to me.â
You glance up at him, and your breath catches in your throat. Breathing feels pointless because you can't seem to exhale. His eyes are shifting in a way that makes it seem like his smoky blue gaze conveys something entirely different from what his mouth is saying, but you're struggling to understand their message.
He releases your wrist, and you come back to reality. You set your purse off to the side as you inhale oxygen properly again. âWhat do you want me to say?â
âWhat happened?â Bucky mumbles. He doesnât want to pressure you if youâre not ready to talk.
You take a deep breath and begin to explain. âWhen I returned to the bar, he had sobered up a bit and apologized to me. I foolishly believed he was genuinely sorry and asked if he would like to start over.â
You let your eyes fall away from him, examining the drops of condensation running down your glass. âBut, then, he insulted you, and that apology didnât mean anything anymore.â
Bucky nods slowly. âWhatâd he say?â You shake your head, unable to tell him the vile words bouncing around in your skull.
âItâs nothing I havenât heard before.â He insists.
You meet his gaze once more, and your eyes begin to well up with tears. Not out of pity for him, but because it pains you to hear someone speak negatively about your favorite person. The most heartbreaking part is that the worst of it comes from his own mind.
Hydra is long gone, but now he is torturing himself. You wish you could take away all that pain and those awful thoughts, replacing them with something pure.
From your experience, you understand that the healing process is a slow journey. It requires time and energy to rebuild your mental and emotional state and regain a sense of humanity. You want to be the person he trusts enough to share that process with.
Bucky doesnât need fixing because he wasnât broken to begin with; he needs someone to confide in and rely on. You want to be that person whoâs there for him through it all, just as he is for you.
âThatâs the problem. You donât deserve that.â Your voice quivers slightly.Â
He scans your face like heâs trying to find the lie hidden in your features, but he wonât find one.
âOkay,â he lets out a long sigh. âYouâre right.â
âAbsolutely, I am.â You agree matter-of-factly, then deepen your voice to impersonate Bucky: âIâm always right.â
He scoffs. âI donât sound like that.â
You raise your hands in mock surrender. âI know, Iâm working on it.â
Bucky smirks, shaking his head as if trying not to laugh. His expression becomes serious again. âWhat else did he say?â
You wave him off. âItâs not important.â
He raises an eyebrow, giving you a disapproving look. You roll your eyes and say, âWhy do you need to know?â
He shrugs. âFor research purposes.âÂ
You purse your lips, but eventually concede. âHe suggested that I was trying toâŠget in your pants for a promotion.âÂ
His jaw ticks, but you reluctantly carry on. âOn top of that, he called me desperate and a slut, so truly the highlight of my week.â You release a dry laugh.
Buckyâs jaw is clenched so tightly that it seems he might break a tooth. His hands are balled into fists, and the raging fire in his eyes is unmistakable.
âDonât.â You warn.
âWhat?â He grits his teeth.
âDonât get mad. Heâs not worth the energy.â
âNot mad.â He growls. You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, and he proceeds. âIâm fucking pissed.â
âWell, Iâm over it, you should be too-â
Bucky interrupts you. âHold on, Iâm plotting his murder in my mind.â His eyes squeeze shut for a second, and you stifle a giggle. âOkay, now Iâm at the part where I hide the body.â
You playfully slap his arm, and his eyes shoot open, amusement evident on his face. âAre you making me an accomplice to your imaginary crimes?â you tease.
âWho said imaginary?â He smirks. You laugh, and your eyes crinkle at the corners. You shouldnât find planning a murder comical, but it feels nice to laugh again.
After a beat of silence, Bucky speaks. âCan I ask why you went back to him?â
Your smile fades as you lean forward, resting your elbow on the surface in front of you and propping your head in your hand. "If this is your way of saying 'I told you so,' just save it. I already know I was being stupid."
âThatâs not-â he blurts, but cuts himself off to start over. âI just wanna know. And, youâre not stupid, donât say that.â
You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts before revealing yourself to him. "I haven't been on a date in a couple of years, and I had a lot riding on this one. I know it sounds naive, but I thought it would be a one-and-done situation."
You chew on the skin of your bottom lip. "When he touched me, I thought I was the one with the problem. I believed there was something mentally wrong with me for not wanting him. But I was just making excuses for him, as I always do for horrible men who don't deserve my mercy."
Buckyâs eyes are fixed on you, intently listening and absorbing every word. This support is something you didnât realize you needed, but itâs helping tremendously, and you hope he understands that.
You sit up a little taller in your seat, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you as you open up to him. âI tried dating before, and it was terribleâone bad date after another. I made a silent vow to myself that the next guy I met, I would settle for, because Iâm tired of coming home alone. I want love, and if that makes me desperate, so be it.â
You give him a weak smile as you finish your rambling. You avert your gaze and start glancing around the kitchen, suddenly embarrassed.
âLook at me,â he orders in a soft voice. You find his eyes again, and theyâre earnest. âNever settle, darlinâ. You are something special, and you deserve nothing less than perfect.â
You're looking at him as if he has cleared your cloudy sky and made the sun shine brighter. You don't know how to react or what to say. Your heart is pounding against your rib cage, as if it's trying to escape.
Bucky clears his throat and hops off the stool. He veers around the island and picks up an old-fashioned radio that you notice for the first time.
âWhat are you doing?â you mumble. He turns the dial, and the crackle of the radio fills the air. The noise fades as he finds the station he was searching for. Right away, you recognize that the music is from the forties, instantly bringing a smile to your lips.
âI found a station that still plays music from my era some time ago. I listen to it occasionally, and it takes me back.â A broad smile lights up your face as you notice his relaxed demeanor, as if the mere sound of the music puts him at ease.Â
Bucky rounds the counter again, standing in front of you. He offers you his flesh hand with a charming smirk. You tilt your head. âWhat?â
He nods to his hand. âIâm showing you how a real date should go.âÂ
Your stomach does somersaults and you bite your lip. âAre you smooth-talking me, Barnes?â
âMaybe, is it working?â His voice is deep and suave.
âYou know it is.â
He extends his hand further. âDance with me.âÂ
You take his hand, and he helps you down. He leads you to an open space between the kitchen and the living room.
He grabs your arm with his metal hand and places it on his shoulder. Slowly, he lowers his hand from your arm to grip your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. With your hands still interlocked, he raises his elbow and points outward.
âI should probably tell you, I donât know how to dance.â You mutter.
âDo I have the honor of being your first dance?â His expression is marked by feigned shock.
You giggle and roll your eyes. âYes.â
His face softens. âDonât worry. Iâll lead, you follow. Weâll start slow.âÂ
You nod, and he sees this as a chance to begin. âWatch my feet and mimic my movements.â
You glance down between your bodies, and he takes a step back. You take a step forward, then he side steps, and you follow. You register that itâs your turn to take a step back, and he takes a step forwardâanother side step in the opposite direction, and you find yourselves back where you started.
âGood, youâre a natural.â Bucky sounds pleased, which brings a grin to your face.
He repeats his actions while you follow, and you watch his feet several more times until you feel confident in your understanding.
Your gaze returns to his, and the expression in his eyes is undeniably captivating. This moment feels like much more than a simple dance. You search your mind for a topic to discuss, hoping to avoid getting lost in the music and giving in to the urge to kiss him.
âDo you like being here?â The question runs out of your mouth.
Buckyâs taken aback by your sudden inquiry. He gives you a perplexed expression. âYou mean this apartment?â
âYeah, this apartment. Brooklyn. I know you lived here, but Brooklyn has changed a lot since the forties.â
âOh, definitely, but I still enjoy living here.â He answers with a shrug. âWhy do you ask?â
âJust wondering.â You resume your thought. âDonât get me wrong; it's a lovely space, but do you see yourself living somewhere else?â
Bucky hums, lost in thought. âYeah, I do. I want a house away from everythingâsomewhere without the noise of traffic, surrounded by nature like I had in Wakanda. Maybe Iâll finally get that cat.â He pinches your side, and you let out a snort.
You release a lengthy sigh. âAnd, Iâll be long gone.â Youâre teasing, but thereâs some truth to your words.
He shakes his head, clearly offended by your assumption. âThatâs not how I see it.â
âWell, if youâre talking about settling down, you wonât be in politics anymore, and I wonât be your assistant.â You clarify.
His eyebrows knit together. âYou donât want to stay friends?âÂ
âYeah, I do.â You squeak.
âWhyâd you say it like that?â Bucky presses, and heâs caught you in a lie.
Your heart is racing now. Are you really about to tell him how you feel? You canât imagine a future without him in it, but if you remain just friends for the rest of your life, it might break you.
You open and close your mouth before spitting it out. âBecause I want to be more than just your friend.â
Buckyâs eyes widen, and his jaw clenches. His metal fingers twitch on your waist, causing more chills to run through your body. He scrutinizes you as if you had said something obscene.
You part your lips to interrupt his thoughts. As soon as you do, his attention shifts to your open mouth. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip as his gaze traces the outline of your mouth.
âFuck,â He grunts. âI wanna kiss you so bad.â
You must've forgotten you were still dancing, as you're tripping over your feet. You recover, getting back into the rhythm of the movements, but your mind feels like it's short-circuiting.
âTh-then,â you stutter, âkiss me.â
âItâs a bad idea.â His tone is serious, though a soft smile plays on his lips.
You contemplate this for a moment. Heâs right; your situation is complicated, and kissing your boss would be a bad idea. Yet, you canât find it within yourself to care.
âMaybe, but you tend to have many of those.â You quip, smirking.
Bucky huffs air through his nose as if itâs funny, but when he speaks, his voice is firm. âNo, I mean, itâs a terrible idea.â
You scoff, lightly hitting his shoulder where your hand rests. âThatâs not making me feel any better, James.â
His smile fades, and his eyes darken. He looks as if heâs been longing for you, and now that he has permission to have you, heâs still contemplating the situation.
He comes to a sudden stop, causing you to halt your footwork as well. He still hasnât released his grip on you, almost as if he physically canât. You hear a deep, frustrated sound coming from his throat, indicating that he's angry with himself.
âFuck it,â Bucky grumbles.Â
Before you can fully register what heâs doing, he pulls you in by your waist and crashes his lips against yours. You gasp, and he swallows the sound. His lips bruise yours with a desperate intensity, as though heâs starved, and youâre the only one who can satisfy his hunger.
You reach out and cup the back of his neck with your palm. His hand falls away from yours as he grips the side of your neck, right under your jaw. With your hand now free, you run your fingers along his back, drawing him closer. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle.
His tongue glides along your bottom lip before invading your mouth. It explores every crevice like heâs committing your mouth to memory. You swirl your tongue around his and moan into the kiss.
Bucky shifts his weight, struggling to find his footing, as if the sound alone weakened his knees. His tongue retreats, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth before he pulls away completely.
Your eyes flutter open, and you find him studying you intently as you both try to catch your breath. His fingers gently brush against your rosy cheeks and swollen lips. He sweeps your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear.
âWe need to stop.â His voice is strained, as if the words are forced from his throat.
âWhy?â You breathe.
He closes his eyes as if he canât bear to see you in this state, flushed and desperate for more of him. âIf we continue, I wonât be able to hold back.â
You smooth the loose strands that hang in his eyes back to their original place. âDonât hold back.â Your tone is low and sultry.
Bucky's eyes fly open, breathing hard through his nose. His metal arm envelops your torso, pulling you close until you feel him, thick and hard against your lower stomach.
âDarlinâ,â he drawls. âDo you feel what you do to me?â
Your chest rises and falls rapidly, and your eyes dart between his features, unsure of where to focus because you desire all of him. Your hand travels down the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling the quick thump of his heart beneath your fingertips. You grasp the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until you're only inches apart from his lips.
âYes,â you murmur against his mouth. âNow, shall we continue, or do you have any more objections?â
He releases a shaky breath against your lips and shakes his head. You mustâve stolen his ability to speak. âFantastic,â you whisper.
You lean in to kiss him again, this time more slowly. Your lips brush against each other gently, savoring the moment. You relish the soft curve of his mouth, the way his stubble tickles your delicate skin, and the feel of his nose nudging against your cheek.
Your tongue delves into his mouth uninvited, but he welcomes it with a satisfied hum. Now itâs your turn to explore his mouth with your tongue. You donât get an adequate exploration because his tongue is sliding against yours, making it hard to focus on anything but his taste.
His warm hand slips into your hair, gently tugging at the roots to intensify the kiss. You whimper into his mouth, and suddenly, it feels like a switch has flipped. The kiss quickly becomes heated, as if your mouths are battling for dominance.
You unclasp your fist from his shirt as both of your hands move to the buttons of his dress shirt. One by one, you start to undo them. Once youâve finished, he removes his hands from you and shrugs the shirt off. You hear the light fabric drop to the floor, and his hands quickly return to their previous positions.
Bucky begins to step forward, pushing you backward while your hands explore the firm contours of his chest and stomach. Your calves bump against something soft, and you realize it's the couch. You break the kiss, but his lips follow yours as if he's not finished savoring you.
âSit.â You coax.
His eyelids flip up to reveal dilated, icy eyes. He inclines back and smirks. âAlways tellinâ me what to do.âÂ
He sits down reluctantly with a huff. You back away from the couch, taking a moment to admire the view. As you scan his shirtless body, you notice the defined muscles. The black metal of his arm glimmers under the dim light.
You reach behind you to pull at the navy ties on your back as he proceeds to complain from his seat. âYâknow, this is my apartment.âÂ
The ties give way, and you start to slide the thin straps down your shoulders. âI feel like I should be tellinâ-â Bucky stops himself as the material of the dress cascades down your body, pooling at your feet. Youâre completely naked save for the steel blue panties you're wearing.
âWhat were you saying?â You poke fun at his stunned expression.
He swallows hard as he observes the angles and curves of your form. "It's irrelevant."
You giggle, warm and breathy. You hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties. âShould I take these off, too?â
âNo,â he blurts. âKeep âem on.â
You let go of the band, relaxing your hands at your sides. Bucky stretches out his arm and beckons you closer. âCome here.â
You saunter over to him. Once youâre close enough, he grips your hip with his metal hand. His cold touch sends shivers down your body. You sink onto the couch, positioning your knees on either side of him as you straddle his thighs.Â
His flesh hand drags along the length of your figure, fingertips ghosting over you like heâs touching petals on a flower. âYouâre stunning, doll.â
Your heart skips a beat at the compliment. Buckyâs eyes shift from your body to gaze up at you, and you cup his cheek. Your thumb strokes his skin, and he leans into your touch.
âMe?â You mutter. âYou are perfect.â
His lips curl as he tilts his head up to peck your jaw in gratitude. When he leans back, his head dips to examine your panties again, his fingers toying with the waistband as he bites his lip.
âDo you know why I bought these?â you ask sheepishly. He shakes his head, his gaze still fixed on the steel blue fabric. âThey reminded me of your eyes.â
Bucky looks up suddenly at your confession. "You're tryinâ to kill me, aren't you?"
You tilt your head back and chuckle. When you glance down again, he pokes your side. âThatâs not funny! I swear, youâre going to give me a heart attack. You canât just say that and expect me to stay calm,â he scolds, but you canât help but keep laughing.
You tip your head forward and trail kisses from his cheek to his ear. âSorry, baby. I wouldnât want your heart to give out,â you whisper.
As you lean close to his ear, you gently nibble on his earlobe, and he lets out a soft grunt in response. You begin to kiss your way down his neck, focusing on the spots that elicit the strongest reactions from him. Your tongue flicks out to taste his skin, and you feel him shiver beneath you.
Buckyâs metal fingers press into your hip, as if heâs struggling to resist the urge to take you right here and now. His other hand lightly traces the wet spot on your underwear, making you groan against his neck.
âHmmâŠyouâre soaked,â he announces as he applies more pressure to your pussy. Your hips jerk when his fingertips move in circular motions on your underwear clad clit.Â
You place lazy kisses along the area where metal touches skin. It's too hard to do anything beyond that now, as your head spins from his actions. You lean your forehead against the cool metal, finding a soothing comfort in it.
âThere you go, just relax for me.â His voice is raspy as he speaks in your ear.Â
He moves your panties to the side, running his fingers through your slick folds. Bucky slides a single digit into your entrance and you suck in a breath. He languidly pumps his finger into you while gently kissing your shoulder.
Your warm, heavy breathing against his chest quickens as he increases his pace. He inserts another one, stroking your walls with his long fingers. You let out a throaty moan and reach up to clutch his metal bicep to ground yourself.
You tip your head back to see him as he thrusts his fingers deeply into you. A delighted sound escapes your lips as his fingers crook deliciously inside of you. You grind against the palm of his hand as he works at your core.
âThatâs it. Take what you need, darlinâ.â He encourages.
You tilt his chin up and press your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He responds with equal enthusiasm as his fingers expertly plunge further and faster. Lips connect roughly as his teeth graze your bottom lip to nip at it. Your mouth separates from his, and your hot breath brushes across his lips.Â
âIâI want to ride you.â You pant.
His fingers falter as he processes your comment. He inspects you as if he canât believe youâre real. His metal fingers brush against your collarbone to tuck your hair back.
âShit,â Bucky mutters, awestruck by you. âIf thatâs what you want.âÂ
He gradually reduces his pleasing movements as you nod your head in agreement. His fingers slip out of you, and when he holds them up, theyâre glistening with your juices. He puts the digits to his mouth and wraps his lips around them, sucking them clean.
Your jaw drops at the sight; itâs the most erotic thing youâve ever seen. You didnât realize he could turn you on even more than you already are.Â
He takes his fingers out of his mouth with a hum. âYou taste divine. I would eat you out, but I guess weâll save that for another time.â He states with a wink.
You aren't sure you can get off the couch now because your knees feel weak and your stomach is a fluttering mess.
He snaps the band of your underwear, pulling you from your daze. âHow âbout you take these off for me while I take off my pants, sound good?â
You clamber off the couch as Bucky starts to unfasten his belt. You watch him intently while your thumbs hook into your panties. Sliding them down your thighs, you realize youâre both observing one another getting undressed.
You step out of your underwear and toss them somewhere in the living room. You hear him grunt from his seat now that you are completely bare.
He lifts his hips off the sofa and tugs his pants and boxers down the length of his thighs. You watch his cock spring free and your mouth begins to water. You want to drop to your knees for him, but the thought of him inside you is too tempting to resist.
Bucky tears the fabric from his legs and mimics your actions by tossing it across the room. He reaches out and holds you by your hips, then leans down to place soft kisses on your waist. He pulls you closer, and you both settle back into your spot on the couch.
His dick rests against his stomach, hardened and demanding. You take him firmly in your grasp and he sucks air through his teeth. You pump him a few times, spreading the precum with your thumb.
Your core is throbbing with anticipation. You decide you need him now. You position yourself over him, swiping the head of his cock through your slick. You line up his tip with your entrance, teasing it.
Bucky glances up at you with pleading eyes, and his grip on your hips is almost bruising. âPlease, darlinâ. I need to feel you.â
You didnât know how beautiful begging could sound, but hearing it from his sweet lips is like silk blanketing your ears. âI know, honey. I need you too.âÂ
His eyes soften at the nickname. Youâll save that knowledge for later.Â
You donât waste any more time. You grab his shoulder with your free hand in preparation. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him as if you have all the time in the world, wanting to memorize every second of this moment.
He releases a strangled moan as his body goes rigid beneath you. Heâs stretching out your tight pussy luxuriously as you inch down his cock. You maintain eye contact with him, observing the way his face twists in pleasure.
You settle onto his thighs, and he bottoms out inside you. You feel incredibly full, itâs a sensation you could easily get addicted to. As you take your time to adjust to his sheer size, you brush your knuckles across his cheekbone.
âYou feel so good.â You praise. âWhere have you been all my life?â
Buckyâs flesh hand loosens on your hip to take your wrist and kiss your palm. âRight here. Iâve been waiting for you.â
You lean in, kissing him desperately because youâre already addicted to him and canât get enough. Your lips move tenderly against his, pouring every ounce of adoration you feel for him.
You ease up on his cock, moaning into each other's mouth. You fall back down, his dick filling you once more. You maintain a steady pace up and down on him, using his shoulder as leverage.
He breaks the kiss, allowing his hand to wander into your hair. He gently tugs on the strands at the base of your scalp to angle your head upwards. His mouth finds your neck like a magnet, kissing and licking the soft flesh.
Your hips roll at the pace of his languid kisses on your neck. Your greedy pussy is taking every delectable inch of him, drawing him in deep. Bucky groans against your throat, sending vibrations through you.
He caresses his way down your body, letting your hair fall as he trails his fingers over your thigh. Your hips pick up speed, riding him quicker. His forehead rests against your chest due to the sudden change of pace.
âDoll-â he drawls. âYou feel incredible.â
Bucky licks a line up your sternum as his metal hand glides up your side. His touch is feather-light on your breast, a cool sensation sweeping over your nipple. His mouth moves to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along the opposite breast.Â
He eventually finds your nipple with his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. He latches onto it, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. You arch into him, a lewd noise escaping your parted lips.
He palms at the other breast, massaging and swiping his thumb over the delicate skin. The pleasure youâre feeling from his skilled tongue only spurs you on, and it drives you to ride him faster, harder, and deeper.
He grunts and bites your nipple. Your mind feels overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. Has sex always been this magical? Not for you, at least.Â
Bucky is the missing piece youâve been searching for, not just because of the sex, but because of everything he brings to your life. The sex is incredible because he is incredible. Itâs that simple.
âJust like that. Fuckâyouâre doing so good.â He mumbles in between kisses as he trails over to your opposite breast. His metal hand moves back to your hip to help guide your movements.
He backs away from your chest when he knows heâs given equal attention to each of your breasts. He concentrates on your face, observing the way your lips part and the sounds that flow from them.
His fingers dig into your thigh as he begins to massage it. Bucky kneads the pliable skin, moving up and down the flesh until heâs squeezing your ass. With the leverage he has, he bucks up into you with the same rhythm you set.Â
Your voice breaks into a guttural moan as he pulls you down forcefully onto his cock. You continue to match his tempo, but your hip movements are becoming more erratic.
âLet me take over, darlinâ.â He groans. âI wanna make you feel good.â
How did you get so lucky to have a man who is more concerned about your pleasure? He makes it his mission to satisfy your every need; you just have to allow him to do so.
You softly smile. âI think you underestimate what your cock is doing to me.â
âWell, let me make you feel even better,â Bucky reiterates. You nod in response and stop your actions.
âGood girl,â he rasps. He scoots to the edge of the couch while still fully inside you. Carefully, he positions your legs to wrap around his hips, and his metal arm covers your torso. Then, he effortlessly picks you up as if you weigh nothing and begins moving across the apartment.
You cling to him, though you know he would never let you fall. He steps into his room and gingerly sets you down on the end of the bed. Leaning over you, he kisses the tip of your nose, causing you to giggle.
âYou didnât want to fuck me on your couch?â You tease.
âNo,â he lowers his mouth to your ear and growls, âbecause youâre not some random hook up.â
Bucky punctuates that statement by slamming his dick into you. You whine and squirm beneath him. He inclines back and clutches your hips, thrusting into you at an unrelenting pace. You throw your head back against the mattress because he was right, this is even better.
Heâs touching parts inside of you that you never knew existed. Your legs tighten around him as you reach for his neck, craving the sensation of him beneath your fingertips. His gaze is locked on you, and his eyes sparkle with a desperate desire to please you.
âTell me how that feels, doll.âÂ
âFucking fantastic.â You breathe, your lungs are working overtime, as he effortlessly drains the oxygen from your chest.
A ghost of a smile appears on his lips; that's exactly what he wanted to hear. Bucky's hand moves down to the underside of your knee. He takes hold of it and lifts it up, so your knee presses into your side. Finding the angle he desired, he pushes into you with renewed purpose.
You arch your back, and you wail when he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you. The head of his cock pounds against your g-spot repeatedly, reducing you to a writhing and whimpering mess.
Heâs bringing you to the edge, and itâs happening quickly. The pressure is rising within you like a tidal wave, and you feel like you might drown in it. Your senses seem heightened, and Bucky is surrounding you, integrating himself into every one of them.
âJamesââ His name feels like a prayer on your lips.
âI know youâre close, pretty girl. Let me get you there.â His metal hand reaches between your bodies and his thumb rubs tight circles into your clit.Â
Your cunt instantly clamps down on his dick and you moan loudly. You were already close, but now youâre teetering on the edge. Your free hand fists the sheets, and your thighs begin to shake.
âIâve got you, darlinâ. Let go. Iâll be right behind you.â His words drift over you like steam rising from a hot spring, warm and enticing.
Your body obeys immediately, your orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. The pressure coiled in your stomach releases and your pussy clenches hard around him in waves. You scream out in a breathless cry, your grip tightening on his neck as you tug him closer.
Youâre a shuddering, aching mess under him. Your eyes are sewn shut, and you feel as though youâre floating. A wave of euphoria washes over you, leaving you high on the sensation.
Bucky presses his forehead to yours, whispering your name like a mantra. He grabs both your hips again, as if afraid you'll slip away.
His cock proceeds to ram into your pulsating cunt, working you through your climax until heâs twitching inside you. His cum spills deeply into you with a low groan from his lips. Heâs coating your walls and warming your core with the thick liquid.
His hips come to a stop, and his head rests in the crook of your neck. Bucky wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. You lazily fold your arms over him, holding him as if you never want to let go. He nuzzles into your hair, inhaling your scent. You gently scratch his upper back, relishing the intimacy of the moment.
âYouâre unbelievable.â He mutters right below your ear. âYouâre real, right? This isnât a dream?â
You let out a breathy laugh. âYes, Iâm very real, honey.â You kiss his shoulder softly. âAnd Iâm not going anywhere.â
Bucky hums contentedly and leans back, gently slipping out of you. âGood.â
He strolls away from the bed and into the bathroom, turning on the light. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what heâs doing. The sound of running water becomes audible, though you canât see it.
He returns with a damp washcloth and completes his thought. âIâm holding you hostage.â
Youâre smiling broadly. âI donât believe this is a hostage situation if Iâm here willingly.â
âAre you sure you donât already have Stockholm syndrome?â he asks, a smirk on his face.
You chuckle and shake your head as he moves closer. He opens your legs and steps between them to wipe down your inner thighs, gently gliding his hand over your dripping cunt.
The sight gives you a warm feeling, knowing this isnât the last time Bucky will take care of you. âWell, arenât you the king of aftercare?â you joke.
âI can't leave my pretty girl in a mess, especially since I'm the one who made it.â Once he's finished, he tosses the dirty rag into his hamper and lies down beside you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close into his embrace.
You hum in contentment, burying your head into his chest. âI have a sneaky suspicion this wonât be the only mess we make tonight.â
Bucky squeezes you, running his hand through your hair to cradle your head. âI think you read my mind.â
The door clicks softly behind Bucky as he treads carefully through the hall. His heavy boots thud against the floor, so he decides to take them off at the door to avoid waking you from sleep.
He changes out of his tactical gear and puts on a pair of sleep shorts. Gingerly, he moves the blanket aside to crawl in beside you. You are facing the opposite direction, and your light breathing indicates that you are still asleep.
Bucky wraps his arms around you and kisses your shoulder, unable to help himself. You stir slightly, resting your arms over his and melting into him.Â
âWhereâd you go?â Your sleepy voice breaks the quiet.
His chest warms at the adorable sound as he whispers against your neck, âI had some business to take care of.â
You hum and snuggle into the pillow, settling back into a relaxed state. Suddenly, your head pops up, and you peek over your shoulder at him. âJames, what did you do?â
âI didnât do anything.â Bucky retorts.
You let out a heavy sigh; it's clear you know he's lying. You kick off the covers and hop out of bed, moving toward his closet. He ogles your naked form; fuck, he wants to take you again.
You grab a random shirt from a hanger and slip it on. Turning to face him, you cross your arms over your chest with a blank expression. âWhereâs your first-aid kit?â
It's as if you see right through him. One glance into his eyes reveals exactly where he's been and what he's done.
âWhat? Iâm fine. Come back to bed.â He pats the spot next to him.
You narrow your gaze at him, and your expression says it all: you donât want to make me mad, James.
âOkay, okay.â Bucky points to the bathroom. âCabinet. Top shelf.â
You practically stomp to the bathroom. He hears the sound of you rummaging around, and you exit with the opened first-aid kit in hand. You set it on his nightstand and search through it.
âSit up,â you command in a surprisingly authoritative tone.
He smirks and does as you instructed him. âAlways tellin-â
You hold up a finger, stopping him. âNot the time.â
âDonât be upset.â He mutters.
Your shoulders, once tense, relax as you shake your head. âIâm not upset.â Your voice is softer and more gentle now.
âThen whatâs wrong, doll?â Of course, he knows whatâs bothering you, but he doesnât seem to want to admit it. You havenât seen this side of him; heâs afraid that because you have, you might leave.
âYou paid Derek a visit, didnât you?â
Bucky nods stiffly. âI did.â
You rub your forehead with your thumb and pointer finger. âDo I have to help you hide a body?â
âNo.â He states simply.
You let your hand fall to your side now that you have confirmation that no murders occurred tonight. You point to his bloody and bruised knuckles and say, "If your hand is any indication, you beat the shit out of him."
âHe got what he deserved. I actually let him off easy,â he grumbles, wishing he had done more to the bastard. He didn't use his metal arm; that was an act of mercy. Now he's regretting that decision.
âThatâs not the point.â You release a long breath. âWhat if someone saw? Or worse, what if he talks? Your job could be in jeopardy.â You give him a worried expression.
âNo one saw, and I doubt heâll be saying much, if anything at all.â Buckyâs mind drifts back to the condition he left Derek in. His face was swollen, bloody, and bruised. Yup, he wonât be talking for a while; I made sure of that.
âNot helping.â You scold.
"Listen, nothing is more important than you. I would gladly lose my job if it meant keeping you safe." Your expression softens at his words, and he continues, knowing he has your full attention. âThat asshole doesnât get to speak to you like that, and get off scot-free.â
Bucky adjusts his tone to be light and caring as he takes your hand in both of hisâflesh and metal. âI will always protect you. You never have to doubt that.âÂ
After a beat of silence, your lips curve into a smile. âOkay.â
He quirks a brow. âOkay? Thatâs it, no more arguing?â
âWhatâs there to argue about?â You shrug. âLike you said, the asshole got what he deserved.â
He returns your sweet grin and kisses your hand gently before letting it go. You bite your lip and turn around to search in the medical kit. Grabbing an antiseptic wipe, you extend your hand toward him. "Now, let me clean you up, honey."
âYes, ma'am.â He offers his hand willingly. You clean the blood from his knuckles, scrubbing deep into the grooves between his fingers.
âDid Derek at least cry?â you inquire, tilting your head as you examine his wounds.
âLike a baby,â he replies. You snort as you toss the dirty wipe into his trash can. Taking out some ointment from the kit, you apply it to the sores on his skin. He doesn't really need it since heâs a super soldier with rapid healing, but he lets you do it anyway because he appreciates the way you care for him.
âHe apologized, by the way,â he adds. âAt least, I think he did. I couldnât understand him through all the blood in his mouth.â
"Bucky," you scoff, but then you break into laughter. "That's awful."
He wants to laugh with you, but is caught off guard when you call him by his nickname. Heâs never heard you say it before, and it sounds so pleasant to him. You put away the ointment, and then he grabs your wrist. You whip your head around to meet his gaze.
âSay that again.â His voice is low and rough.
You furrow your brows in confusion but then understand his meaning, and your expression softens.
âOh,â you shift to face him, your voice becoming seductive and breathy. âBucky.â
He basically melts; his lips part, and all his muscles loosen up. âAgain. Slower. I like the way it sounds.â
You giggle and gently cup his face in your hands, obeying his request. âBuckyâŠâ You lean down and press a lingering kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter closed; he believes he has died and gone to heaven, with you as the angel welcoming him at the pearly gates.
You lean back, and he looks up at you with hooded eyes. âAlright, my hero,â you murmur. âLetâs get you to bed.â
Bucky's face is etched with amusement as you utter the words âmy heroâ. He has never been called that, nor has he felt like much of a hero anyway. But honestly, that word wouldnât matter if it came from anyone else because he only ever wants to save you.
Pairing | Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary | Bucky tries on his cop costume, and he's not expecting to elicit such a reaction out of you. But he doesn't mind one bit, not when you're practically begging him to use the pair of handcuffs on you.
Warning/Tags | MDNI (18+), nsfw, established relationship, smut, literally porn without plot, dom!Bucky, mean!Bucky, Bucky has a filthy mouth and needs to be washed out with soap, sir kink, praise kink, handcuffs, spitting, oral (f receiving), Bucky eats reader out in mating press (hell yeah), orgasm denial, improper use of a gun...reader gets fucked with a gun (idk what you want me to say, i'm a fucking freak), slight angst, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, costume stays on during sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, cock warming, pet names (sweetheart, baby, my love, pretty girl), no use of y/n
Word Count | 4.5k
A/N | Happy day six of Bucktober!! I'm late posting thisâjust pretend I posted it yesterday so I don't feel like a complete failure. Let me just say, fuck me sideways because this was not supposed to be as long as it turned out to be, but I'm a certified yapper. I normally write soft dom!Bucky, so I hope this turned out alright and wasn't a complete cringe fest. Only read through it once (don't hate me, i'm tired). Anyway, hope y'all enjoy and happy gooning:))
Laptop propped on your thighs, your delicate fingers danced across keys. The click-clack of the keyboard filled the room like a broken melody. Only the bedside lamp and your screen illuminated the space, giving your skin a subtle glow.
Luckily, it was Thursday, and tomorrow was your day off. However, you figured it was better to get ahead of your work schedule before Halloween, because come the weekend, you'd be heavily distracted.
You had been invited to a few parties this yearâsome from your close friends, others from work friends. And you were dragging your boyfriend along.
Bucky was reluctant at first; he hated large crowds, but with a bit of convincing on your end (finally letting him cum after edging him for hours), he agreed.
So, it was off to search for costumes after that. He grabbed the first thing he sawâa police uniform, and practically sprinted to the front of the store to check out. He wasn't as into the dressing-up part as you were, so you went along with it and picked out an inmate costume to match.
You heard a clatter, followed by a string of curses from the bathroom. "Buck?" you called out.
A few more sounds of rummaging around came from beyond the door before he answered with a sigh, "Yeah, baby?"
"You doing okay in there?" you asked, setting your laptop on the side table so you could swing your legs over the side of the bed.
"Yeah," he grumbled. "Just tryin' on my costume."
You hummed, sitting up a little straighter. "Ooh, can I see?"
"I dunno, it looksâŠridiculous on me," he mumbled, no doubt scanning his reflection in the mirror.
You shook your head, though he couldn't see you. "Just get your cute ass out here. I'll be the judge of that."
A huff came from the other side of the door, then the knob eventually turned. He stepped out of the bathroom, head low as he adjusted his leather jacket.
Your breath got caught in your throat, eyes trailing down the length of his figure. A crisp white button-up was tucked into his jeans, a badge clipped to the waistband. The collar of the dress shirt was loose, a couple of buttons undone, exposing the line of his clavicle. He had a holster positioned on his belt, which held a gun. On the other side, a pair of cheap handcuffs hung off his belt loop.
You were gawking, jaw slightly unhinged and eyes lidded. His arms outstretched at his sides, palms facing upwards as he tried to discern your expression.
"Well," he pressed. You didn't say anything, still stunned by his appearance.
His shoulders slumped, and his hands got more animated as he added, "Fuckin' knew I looked like an idiot. 'M just gonna wear black, and call myself a shadow or the grim reaper or some shit."
You were quick to cut in after that. "No, no," you swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.
"You lookâŠgood," you finally managed, and your voice dipped into something sultry. You rose from the bed with a subtle squeak from the loss of you. Sauntering over to where he stood, your eyes gleamed with a simmering seduction.
Bucky visibly froze, not expecting a simple costume to elicit such a reaction. Your eyes raked over him once again, tucking your lip between your teeth, placing your hands on the spot where his chest strained against the cotton material.
"Officer Sexy, reporting for duty," you purred, fingers gliding across toned muscles. They twitched under your touch, rippling under the pads of your fingers like tiny waves.
You noticed a flush crawl up his neck at the compliment. He always seemed to turn sheepish whenever you admired his appearance, but that only made you want to do it that much more.
He snorted, shaking his head. A smirk altered his expression, turning embarrassment to a rising confidence. "You like it then?"
"Like it?" You parroted. "Buck, I want to jump your bones."
His smile widened, dipping his head to lock his darkening eyes with you. "Yeah?" He brought his metal hand up to snake under your shirt. You shivered, icy-cool plating sliding up your torso, evoking a chill on your warmed skin.
"You turned on, sweetheart? What is it, the uniform, or what I can do to you while wearin' it?" he whispered, voice husky as he lowered his face to be inches from yours.
You gazed up through your lashes, fingers trailing beside the buttons that begged to be ripped open. "A little of both," you muttered, tone laced in syrupy honey. Your digits drifted lower and lower until they gingerly dragged over the half hard-on that was faintly making an appearance behind the denim.
His jaw ticked; he hated being teased, especially when you made it your mission to hear those sweet whimpers falling from his lips in breathy gasps. You cupped him over his jeans, never enough to provide any real pleasure. Still, he let a huff of air out of his flaring nostrils.
You granted him more pressure, rubbing the heel of your palm over his bulge. You could feel him grow under your touch, even if it was only teasing strokes. His hand gripped your waist in a desperate attempt to stay in control. Your other hand reached up to slowly undo his belt as you continued your ministrations on his denim-clad cock, ignoring the way his desire-clouded eyes bore into you.
But he snatched your wrist before you could even try to get the leather free from its buckle. "That's not how this is gonna go," he growled, jaw tight.
You tilted your head with a smug look flickering across your features. Your other hand remained on his dick, still massaging the outline of him. "Oh, Officer, tell me how this is going to go." Your tone was sickly saccharine, as if you wanted to set him off on purpose.
He seized your jaw with his metal hand, forcing your gaze upward. All the light was snuffed out in his irises; only a dominance remained in those inky eyes. "You're gonna be a good girl and listen to what I tell ya," he seethed, and there was no room for argument.
You wanted to misbehave, give him a run for his money, but that look in his eyes told you it was time to obey. So, you did. You dropped your hand away from his dick and fluttered your eyelashes innocently, although you were far from that.
Bucky's lips lifted into a wicked grin at your eagerness to heed his words. "You dunno how to keep your hands to yourself, do you?" he observed, but he wasn't waiting for an answer. He walked you backwards, metal hand still tight around your jaw, not enough to harm, but to hold you in place as he pinned you with his sharp gaze.
The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he shoved you, causing you to fall to the bed with a creak. You propped yourself up on your elbows, but he snatched your waist and shifted you higher with little effort. He grabbed your wrists, positioning them above your head.
"Don't think I can trust you to keep 'em to yourself," he murmured, collecting the pair of handcuffs that dangled from his belt loop. He clicked the steel around your wrist, the curve digging into your flesh as he did it. You gasped at the sudden realization that these weren't some flimsy plastic pair; they were real.
He chuckled darkly at your reaction as he moved the other cuff around the bedpost and clamped that one down on your other wrist. "If 'm bein' honest, I've had this planned for a while. Your body at my disposal without those hands gettin' in my way."
Your head spun; this wasn't the version of your boyfriend you were familiar with. If he did have power over you, he'd usually be gentle, but he wasn't worried about being careful with you now. He was ready to bend you, break you, until you knew exactly who you belonged to.
In your year of dating, he hadn't shown you a kinky side. If he did, it was on the lighter side. But now, he wasn't afraid to show you just the kind of things he was into. You couldn't deny that it was arousing watching the passion flare in his eyes like a raging fire.
He inclined back, admiring his handiwork and just how delicious you looked bound to the bed for him. You tested the strength of the handcuffs, the chain between them pulling taut. He hummed, a low condescending sound emanating from deep in his chest.
"Poor thing, can't go anywhere. You're all mine, aren't you?" he said, hands grazing up your bare legs until his fingertips traced the hem of your sleep shorts. He gripped your inner thighs, spreading you open.
"What's this?" he inquired, thumb tracing over the damp spot on the material. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment. It wasn't the fact that you were soaked. It never took much to get you that wet around him, but it was the way his eyes pierced through your very being, like he might ruin you from the inside out.
"So wet, my love, and I've barely touched you. You like when 'm in control, huh? When I make you bend to my will." He caressed the damp spot with his flesh hand, finger pads sliding over your clit. You jerked your hips, your breath coming out in quick pants.
"Yeah," you breathed as heat swirled in your lower stomach. His touch was soft, but his gaze was so intense that every brush of his fingers felt overwhelming, as if your senses were heightened.
"'M sorry, what was that? Didn't hear you," he taunted, still giving you the slightest pressure as his digits moved in languid circles over the silk that hid your clit.
"Yes," you repeated.
"Yes, what?" His voice lowered into a gravelly tone.
"Yes, sir," the title rolled off your tongue as if you'd said it a thousand times. He smiled down at you, metal hand outstretched to tuck a hair behind your ear.
"There she is. There's my good girl," he commended. Calloused fingers traced along the waistband of your shorts, thumbs dipping below the fabric to slip them down your legs.
Once they were off, he was gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up to press against your stomach. You were exposed, cunt spread as he stared down at the slick that glistened in the dim lighting.
"Fuck, this pussy's beggin' to be ate, isn't she?" he grunted, and you nodded frantically. You were throbbing in anticipation for any pleasure he might give you, and he looked hungry. A craving for you flickered across steel blue eyes, making your skin tingle.
He licked his bottom lip before he spoke. "Gonna give her what she needs. You gotta be good for me, though. Want those pretty eyes on me the whole time. If you look away, I stop. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," you responded eagerly.
He hummed in approval. He glanced down at your aching cunt again, his mouth twitching. Then, a string of saliva was dripping past the seam of his lips and landing between your spread thighs. His spit flowed down the length of your pussy, coating you in a piece of him like a brand.
That's when Bucky dropped to his knees with a soft thud against the wood flooring. With the leverage he had on your thighs, he swiveled you to he edge of the bed, your ass practically hanging off. He lowered his mouth to your pleading cunt, tongue darting out in his slow approach.
He flattened his tongue and licked through your folds, from hole to clit. You gasped at the contact, stomach clenching when he pressed more firmly into you.
"Always taste so fuckin' good, sweetheart," he muttered, shoving your thighs flat against your stomach so that he could gain more access to you. He dove in again, tongue sweeping through you before he was giving you little kitten licks to your sensitive bud.
You whined, balling your hands into fists as you tugged at your restraints. He lapped at your juices before sucking your clit into his mouth. His lips wrapped around you, tongue swirling and flicking at the bundle of nerves.
You were a goner; mewling as he dipped down to tongue at your entrance and back up to lather your clit with his tongue. He worked expertly at your wet heat, tongue prodding into your hole as he devoured you.
"Buck," you whimpered, squirming beneath him. With the way you were chained to the bed and your legs above your head, you couldn't go very far. Not that you wanted to go anywhere, it was just too much too quickly. Your nails dug into your palms as he ate you out, trying to hold yourself together and take the immense pleasure he was giving you.
He locked eyes with youâa wolf feasting on his prey without any sign of relenting. His tongue was a heavy presence on your pussy as he tilted his chin down to bury his face further into you.
Your toes curled above you, the thrill of his actions settling deep within your gut and twisting like a dagger. He was worshipping you with his mouthâyou, an altar for him to kneel at as he glorified you with his tongue.
You were wailing, the sounds of your enjoyment were like an amplified speakerâyour moans a sweet symphony that filled the space. And your boyfriend was loving every minute of it. He groaned into your cunt, a buzz that made your stomach flex with the new feeling it brought.
"S-so close, baby," you warned, the pleasure rising sharp and quick.
He moved back up, giving your clit a hard suck before releasing it with a soft pop. He pulled back, and you were able to get the full view of his salt and pepper scruff smeared with your arousal. You whined as he just watched you. You wiggled your hips, your need taking over your form.
"Why did you stop?" you complained.
"Oh, were you gonna cum? Don't remember givin' you permission to do that," he was patronizing you with that cocky smirk stretching across his lips. He wanted you to know he had complete control over everything, your orgasm included.
"Please," you begged, a desperate edge to your voice. "Please, let me cum. I've been good."
"Oh, I know you have. Just takin' what I give you, huh?" He moved his hands away from your thighs, and they dropped, dangling off the side of the mattress. "But now, that smart mouth is movin'. You think I wanna hear you bitch 'bout not lettin' you cum?"
He never talked to you like that; your normally gentle, respectful boyfriend was asserting his dominance. He was showing you that he wouldn't let your spoiled behavior slide without chastising you.
"I'm sorry," you said weakly. Your body was jittery from the loss of pleasure, but you tried to remain still to hopefully stay in his good graces.
He let out a heavy sigh, pushing up to stand. He grasped your ankles and planted them on the edge of the bed, keeping you open for him.
"You wanna make it up to me?" he questioned, tilting his head. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement, too tense to answer using words. "Just stay like that. Wanna try somethin' on you."
He reached down, fingers encasing the gun strapped to his hip. He pulled it out, silver glinting as he held it in his palm. Your body froze, joints locking up as he scanned the weapon. You knew he would never hurt you, but that didn't stop your heart from racing.
Bucky eventually leveled his gaze at you, watching the way your chest heaved. "Scared, sweetheart?" Maybe it was the way he said it so calmly, but you found solace in the way he looked at you while holding the gun. So, you shook your head; that restless sensation in your body suddenly felt like elation.
"Good," he drawled. "You know I would never hurt my pretty girl." He clutched the pistol tightly as he moved it down, inching closer to your weeping cunt. You watched with bated breath, eyes wide as the muzzle nudged your entrance.
He placed his metal hand on your knee, thumb sweeping over your kneecap in comfort. "Just relax for me," he coaxed in a smooth tone.
Pushing forward, your hole stretched at the intrusion. You moaned, biting your lip as rough steel entered your plush walls.
"Atta girl, let me feed it to her. There ya go," he praised as the barrel slid in steadily. It felt wrong; your body was rejecting it with the way your pussy clamped down on the foreign object. Your breath came out in whiny pants as he shoved it in fully, the trigger guard pushing up against your opening.
Your cunt flexed around it, attempting to adjust to it, but it was like you physically couldn't. You felt every jagged edge and hard line of the gun. You took a stabilizing breath, trying to breathe through the pain.
The weapon glided out, elevating some of the pressure. He forced it back in unhurriedly as if he had all the time in the world. You were gasping for breath, jaw clenched in a silent scream.
"Shh, I got you, baby. Breathe for me," he cooed as he drove the barrel back in leisurely. You tried to obey, you really did, but your head was spinning as it prodded your walls.
Your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to regain some semblance of reality, but your mind continued to slip.
You were snapped right back to the present as a hand came down, slapping your pussy. You jolted forward, your eyes shooting open at the sharp sting he sent to your swollen clit. Your wrists wrenched against the cuffs, and the steel dug into your delicate flesh. You screeched, loud and tremulousâyour voice sounding thin, as your thighs closed on instinct.
Bucky swiftly pushed your knees apart as he murmured, "Eyes down here, remember? Gotta watch what I'm doin' to you."
You gave him pleading eyes as the gun proceeded to plunge into your quivering cunt. He transferred his metal hand from your knee to your chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger.
He tilted your head down, forcing your gaze to land on your slick folds and how the weapon disappeared between them. "Look how good she's takin' it. Such a perfect pussy," he praised.
Your walls finally seemed to accommodate the unfamiliar device as his words washed over you like rippling waves licking at the sand. You let out a sweet sound from the back of your throat as the pain bled into pleasure.
"That's my pretty girl. Give in to it, baby. Lemme hear you," he rambled, loosening his grasp on your chin to brush a metal-plated knuckle over your cheekbone.
You crooned, arching your back as the arousal built once again, but this time it was spreading like wildfire. Your orgasm was within arm's reach; you could feel the way it infiltrated your body.
"Buck, please," you implored. "Please let me cum."
He let a low buzz escape him, lips twitching into a grin. Then, he slowed down his movement, keeping you right on that edge. "Not yet, my love. Hold it for me," he instructed.
You whined, but you didn't argue with him. You were too impatient for a release that you weren't going to risk him edging you again, so you kept your mouth closed.
The weapon skimmed through you at a measured glide. There was no build-up anymore, just a sizzling pressure lingering in the pit of your stomach. Each press of the gun through your walls elicited another whimper. Your muscles were stiff from the suspense of your climax, and being denied of it twice now.
Bucky's non-human hand came down to your stomach, securing you to the bed as his thumb dipped down to rub sensual circles into your bundle of nerves. Your pussy squeezed around the pistol, crying out in despair. Tears pricked your eyes, vision blurring as the coil within the confines of your gut expanded, threatening to explode.
He picked up his pace, propelling the weapon forward rapidly. The tears fell over your lower lashline like a dam breaking, the salty water coming down in hot streams down your cheeks. You tried to hold out for him, but it was becoming more difficult with every slight motion.
"I-I can't, baby, please," you pleaded with him once more.
"Go on," he enticed with the simple rasp in his tone. "Cum for me, sweetheart."
The knot in your stomach unfurled as soon as you received his permission. You sobbed as your cunt fluttered around the barrel. Your orgasm shattered your body, your figure trembling as your climax dispersed in crashing waves.
Bucky fucked you through it, gun prodding into you as his thumb repeatedly rubbed into your clit. You were writhing around, sheets tangling around your feet as they kicked and skittered off the edge of the bed.
Your form went limp, thighs shuddering as your head lulled to the side. He finally ceased his pleasing movements. He pulled the gun from your gushing hole. He tilted the weapon this way and that, watching the new gleam shift under the light from your juices covering it.
"Fuck," he droned. "Look at the mess you made."
Your eyes were hooded, trying your darndest to keep them somewhat open. He stepped between your spread knees, hovering over you. He lowered the pistol just above your mouth. "Open f' me," he commanded.
With how exhausted you were, you only managed to part your lips slightly. He maneuvered the muzzle between them, shoving it into the cave of your mouth. You enveloped the steel with your lips before he even said anything.
"Be a good girl, and suck it clean f' me," he purred, face inching closer to yours. You did what he asked of you, sucking off your own slick from the barrel. "Get all of it. Hmm, that's it, pretty girl."
He drew it from your lips, a thread of saliva still connecting you to the weapon. He slipped it back into its holster before moving up to the head of the bed. You heard a jingle as he freed a set of keys from his pocket. He slid one of them into the lock with a click as the cuffs loosened from your sore wrists.
Bucky interlocked his hand with yours, bringing your red wrists to his mouth to kiss the ache away. You smiled weakly at the kind gesture, gazing up at him with a warmth in your eyes.
"Sorry, did I go too rough?" he asked, and just like that, his control clattered to the ground. His expression softened as he trailed kisses onto your opposite wrist.
You shook your head, hands reaching up to grab at his leather collar and lure him in. "That was so fucking hot, Buck," you whispered before capturing his lips in a tender kiss. He sighed against your mouth while his lips brushed yours.
He hummed, inclining back as he broke the kiss. "Well, we're not done yet."
Shifting onto the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight. He moved between your legs, leaning over you. He clasped the sides of his jacket, attempting to shrug it off, but you stopped him.
"Leave it on," you muttered.
"Oh, now you're givin' out demands, huh?" he teased, setting the leather back into place. Instead of the leather of his jacket, his hands fell to the leather of his belt. The clank of metal announced the buckle's removal. He unbuttoned his jeans, yanking them down his thighs unceremoniously.
His angry, red-tipped cock came into view as he slid it through your center, gathering your juices onto his shaft. You sucked in air, hands outstretched to clutch his shoulders. He held onto your hip with his metal hand as his other one lined himself up with your still pulsating pussy.
He pressed into you, the head stretching you out even further than the gun did. You let out a throaty moan as he surged forward without warning. He was buried to the hilt, and wasn't giving you any time to get used to his girth. Bucky thrusted deeply into you, causing you to tilt your head back and wail.
He shushed you, seeking out a way to calm you softly. "You can take it. Know you can, baby." His dick rammed into you, pounding you into the bed below.
You keened, your back bowing as he hit your sweet spot over and over, finding it easily. Sometimes you wondered if he knew your body better than you did, with how his tip bumped against your G-spot like a compass pointing homeward.
His flesh hand drifted up your side, tracing over the swell of your tit. His palm came up, seizing your breast. He squeezed and massaged it through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. Your nipple perked, poking into cotton. His thumb flicked over it, watching the way your mouth opened in a silent groan.
His hips meet yours in a kiss of skin against skin. The erotic noises of your soaked pussy and the sounds of pleasure poured out into the bedroom and beyond; you wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors heard you.
"Shit," he grunted. "I don't think 'm gonna last. Almost came seein' the way you were takin' my gun earlier."
Your cunt compressed around his cock like a vice as another orgasm hovered over you. Your skin erupted in goosebumps as you came with a broken cry. It hit you so fast, your vision went white, and you swore you saw stars twinkling in your vision.
"Oh my- fuck-" he hissed through his teeth. With a couple more sloppy jerks of his hips, he spilled into you. Warmth spread out along your clenched walls as he prolonged his own climax, giving you shallow thrusts. He was still spurting cum as he slowed to a stop, your combined release leaking out from the edges of your cunt.
You were still on a euphoric high when he lowered his weight onto you, taking a moment to catch his breath. Bucky nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, nose nudging at your skin as he breathed in your scent. "Did so good f' me," he commended.
After a few minutes of quiet, you eventually spoke, even if your words came out as a frail string of words. "Holy shit, you should get promoted to sheriff."
He chuckled into your neck, his body vibrating above you. "I dunno if I can wear this thing anymore. Some kinda demon took over me," he admitted.
"I liked it," you mumbled. "I want Officer Sexy to fuck me from now on."
He snorted, raising his head to place a lingering kiss on your cheek, then leaned back to take in your expression. "Yeah? We'll see 'bout that, my love."
Pairing | Ghostface!Stucky x Reader
Summary | After watching "Scream" with Bucky and Steve, ideas begin to flow. With Ghostface masks and a hunger for you, they tap into their inner masked killer. You can run, you can even try to hide, but when they find you, they fuck you.
Warnings/Tags | MDNI (18+), nsfw, smut, dubcon (just to be sure), literally porn without plot (sue me! Actually don't, I'm broke), roleplaying, chase kink, knife play, marking/blood kink (Bucky's gotta mark what's his, I don't make the rules) (I actually do, I wrote this shit), dom!Steve, soft dom!Bucky, oral (f + m receiving), hand job, praise kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, kissing, rough sex, unprotcted sex, p in v sex, save a horse; ride a Bucky, breast play, anal, double penetration, use of slut, pet names (darlin', sweet girl, pretty girl, pretty baby, baby, sweetheart), no use of y/n
Word Count | 6.7k
A/N | Holy fucking shit, lovlies! Happy day 4 of Bucktober!! I wrote this in two days, so if it's shit, talk with my lawyer. I've never written for Steve, so idk what this is exactly. Guess who I love more in this fic, bet you can't (sorry I favored Bucky). Literally went insane writing this, ask the Stan-tastic Association. Updates every hour, it was crazy. I think I went into psychosis at one point...Anyways, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 700 FOLLOWERS! Forehead kisses for everyone, I love y'all fr fr. Hope you enjoy:))
A late Saturday night. The wind whistled just outside with an eerie tonality. It was quiet, relaxing, despite the spine-chilling sounds that the television produced. A bright, flashing light illuminated the space, the TV giving your skin a soft glow in the dim living room.
No one vacated the Avengers' compound besides you, Bucky, and Steve. Being newer to the team meant training relentlesslyâa couple of uninterrupted weeks of working your ass off to prove yourself. And, of course, the two Avengers were assigned to instruct you, along with a few others, but they were long gone on the weekends.
The weekends meant everything to you; it was a cause for rest that your body craved. It was also an excuse to get close to the two whom you'd considered your friends. Though you knew them long before your introduction into the team, it was still nice to get alone time with them once in a while. They were happy to indulge you during your break because of how hard you worked early in the week.
You were sprawled on the couch across the two like a lap dog. Your head was a gentle weight on Bucky's thigh as your legs draped over Steve's kneesâyour favorite position.
It was your idea to watch a movie together. You suggested Scream, one, because Halloween was right around the corner, and two, because you hadn't watched it in some time.
Bucky and Steve knew better than to argue with you about your pick, so they shut their mouths. They grabbed a bucket of buttery popcorn and plopped down on the sofa like a pair of loyal companions. Snuggling up to you with a navy blanket, they cloaked you with their warmth.
Calloused fingers danced in your hair as you watched the movie. Bucky was keen on playing with your hair; it gave him solace. He was nervous about touching you before, when he was still shedding the Winter Soldier from his fragmented form. But now, he couldn't keep his hands off you, even if he tried.
Some days, it was his arm just lightly grazing yours or his head resting on your shoulder. But othersâthe harder daysâhis touch was firmer.
Like when he would come up from behind you and wrap his strong arms around your middle or his metal hand gripping your upper thighâthat would inevitably lead to a heat pooling in your lower stomach. You didn't dare comment on that, though.
You also found comfort in his touch, as well as Steve's. His warm hands had found your feet under the blanket, gently massaging them. His thumbs dug into the heel of your foot, clearing the tension from your muscles.
It was the part of the film where Billy and Stu revealed themselves as the killer, one of your favorite scenes. The intense buildup all leading to this satisfying betrayal.
Billy was licking off the fake blood from his fingers, causing your thighs to squeeze together. It was such a simple action, but the way he was looking at Sidney as he did it was a surprising turn on.
You bit your lip to hide the smile spreading across your face. This was supposed to perturb you with how sick the two men were, but it had the complete opposite effect.
"Whatcha doin', darlin'?" Bucky's voice came, raspy and laced with a teasing lilt. Almost as if he had uncovered a secret, and he wasn't hesitant to spill it to anyone who might listen.
Your head jerked upward, locking eyes with him. He had a Cheshire smile plastered on his face. That damn smirk, you thought.
"What's that lip doin' between your teeth?" he added, flesh hand drifting down to free it with his pointer finger. His touch lingered, dragging it slowly over your bite-swollen bottom lip before pulling away.
Steve turned, glancing down at you with a just as wide grin. "Huh, I think she's turned on, Buck?" He pinched your thigh, eliciting a squeak from your lips.
You swallowed hard, heart racing. They caught you red-handed, and there was no way out of this one. "I-I-" you stuttered, not quite knowing what to say.
"Oh, definitely. She can't even defend herself," Bucky agreed.
Your embarrassment faded, turning to a sharp anger clawing at your rib cage. You balled your hand into a fist, lightly punching Bucky in the gut.
He feigned a pained grunt. "Hey, he's the one who said it," He exclaimed, pointing at the blonde beside him.
You wiggled your foot from Steve's grasp, hitting him weakly in the stomach. "You're both assholes," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest like a spoiled child.
Steve snorted, squeezing your knee. "Sorry, pretty girl. Didn't mean to make you mad. It's just-" he cut himself off, tilting his head thoughtfully.
You leaned forward slightly. "It's what?"
He shrugged, "I didn't realize you were into that. The, y'know," he gestured to the television, "dark thing."
You rolled your eyes, embarrassment creeping back in. "Can we just watch the damn movie?" you grumbled, gaze focusing back on the screen.
You saw Steve shake his head out of the corner of your eye. "It's not a jab, just an observation."
You ignored him, nuzzling your head back into Bucky's thigh and watching the way Billy and Stu crowded themselves around Sidney. That feeling in your stomach resurfaced as you imagined yourself in the woman's place.
Steve sighed, but dropped the subject altogether. Bucky's hand was back in your hair, but this time it felt less like it was for himself and more to soothe you. The rest of the night was uneventful as you finished out the movie in the super soldier's laps.
The next morning came and went in a flash; the dark of the night seeping into your walls once more. You hadn't seen either of your other temporary housemates. It was strange. You contemplated whether you had scared them off with the revelation of your darker side.
It wasn't like you were on your knees begging for it; it was just some fantasy that lay dormant in your skull. It was never about the men on screen, but the ideaâa man chasing you in light of his hunger for you. However, the film expanded on that idea, turning one man into two. And having two bodies under you as they touched your figure made your head spin with too many ideas. So, really, it was their fault.
But now you were waiting in the kitchen, a fork pushing around food gone cold. The prongs poked at the mashed potatoes on your porcelain plate.
You were independent. You didn't need someone around all the time, but at the same time, you hated the feeling of being alone. It crept into your very bones and settled into you like a form of deterioration. So, the empty compound felt like an echoing chasm, so still, you could hear a pin drop.
As if on cue, you heard a noise from downstairsâa loud crash, like two symbols coming together. You stood from your seat, the legs of the chair screeching against the floor tiles, and wobbling before correcting itself. "Hello?" You shouted. "Steve? Bucky? Is that you?"
No answer, just a tapping followed by a long scrape. You shivered; you really shouldn't have suggested that movie if you're this on edge. You stalked forward, your bare feet padding through the kitchen like you're playing a game of "the floor is lava".
You peeked around the corner, checking the downward flight of stairs. You took each step one at a time. The metal whined with every motion of your tiptoes, like it was greeting whomever was the other occupant in the facility. Almost as if the stairs themselves were saying, she's trying to be quiet, but she's doing a shitty job.
Once you reached the bottom, your head swiveled this way and that, but there was no one in sight. You shrugged to yourself, turning. Maybe you were crazy after all, hearing things that weren't actually there. You made your way back upstairs, head lowered, so you wouldn't miss a step and fall on your ass.
Then, you glanced up only for a split second. Your heart dropped into your stomach. A dark, cloaked form was hovering over the stairs. And the fucking cherry on top of the sundae, they were wearing the same mask you saw last night on the flickering screenâthe Ghostface mask.
Your eyes widened in horror, your hand gripping the railing so tightly that you thought the metal might snap. Before you could even fully process, your feet were moving again. You skipped several steps, descending them like a cheetah. You honestly couldn't believe your speed. You instantly heard the sound of heavy boots hitting each step with a force. As if you thought you couldn't get any quicker, you picked up your pace.
You whipped around the corner, heading straight for the door, when you stopped dead in your tracksâa second form, veiled in midnight, and the same white, contrasting mask. You glanced down, rapidly spotting the silver gleam in this one's hand. A knife, black handled and pointed steel, shining from the outside bulb. Was this a sick joke, or were you getting murdered tonight? It was as if all your training flew out the window, and you stood there in shock.
A scream escaped you, sharp and loud. It split through the calm of the night like a bullet. Booming footsteps came from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, spotting the first Ghostface now standing with a wide stance and tilted head. You were surrounded. Your chest heaved, but not just from the exertion of your short race, but from this utterly fucked situation you found yourself in.
You darted to the side, changing your strategy and running towards the only other exit. You heard rather than saw the two of them follow after you. You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to lose all the distance you gained.
You could hear their breathing from behind you, but it wasn't as heavy as yours. It was steady and measured, as if the chase didn't faze them. You made it to the door, jiggling the handle. Your first couple of attempts were unsuccessful as the door wouldn't open. Your shaking hands were your own personal hell as your sweat-slick palms slipped from the knob repeatedly. You eventually found purchase, swinging it open. You couldn't help but spare a single glance back. The two dark figures were slow in their approach, as if they were taunting you, making it seem like they were going easy on you.
Your stomach churned, but it almost felt like a blaze in the pit of your stomach. Were you really aroused at a time like this? Holy shit, you're pathetic.
You pushed the sensation down, venturing past the precipice of the doorway and into the chill of the air. The wind whoshed past your ears as your legs pushed off the ground, bare feet getting muddied along the way.
You felt like you had been running for ages, with the way your lungs burned. You couldn't keep doing this; you needed to come up with a new plan. The gears in your mind turned, finally settling on hiding as your best course of action. You just had to find a safe place to lie low for now until you could retrieve your phone from your back pocket and call for help.
You didn't bother peeking over your shoulder to see if they followed you; you ran into the dense forest for a quick hiding place. Low-hanging branches and greenery brushed your uncovered legs as you ran. A few dug into your clear skin like jagged claws. You, no doubt, had scrapes and scars wrapped around your calves like a miniature dog had mauled you.
You eventually spotted a bush and rushed towards it. You crouched low, crawling on your knees and elbows into the underbrush. It enveloped you like a hug, twigs getting twisted in your hair as the bigger branches poked your flesh.
You took a few steadying breaths before pulling out your phone. The brightness of the screen highlighted your face, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the white light. You debated calling the police, but only for a second, as the pair of super soldiers popped into the forefront of your mind like a flashing sign.
You scrolled through your contacts, pressing the first person on your list and hitting that green phone as if it were your lifeline. The call rang quietly on your end. Then, louder in the woods. What?
You heard a rustling before it blared louder. "Oh, Stevie," a too-familiar voice came, but it sounded darker in this context. "Look who's calling me."
A deep chuckle came from your left. "Cute, she needs help," the blonde answered. His voice rose, trying to get your attention. "I'm a little offended you didn't call me, sweet girl."
Your breathing slowed, not just because of the well-needed break from extending your legs, but from the realization. "Steve? Bucky? What the fuck. You scared the shit out of me," you admitted. You slithered out of your temporary hiding spot, brushing the dirt from your flesh and pulling some loose twigs from your hair.
You scoffed, "You're both assholes, you know that?" You glanced around the wooded area, trying to seek them out now that the ruse was up.
Bucky snorted, leaves crinkling under a set of boots that sounded closer and closer with every step. "You said as much last night," he mumbled. "Or did you forget about yesterday? Turned on by the mere thought of someone chasing you. Dirty, dirty girl."
You swallowed, the embarrassment heating your cheeks. "What?" you asked, but it came out smaller than you intended. "I thought we dropped that?"
You heard two roaring laughs fill the space. It echoed around you, their voices doubling and tripling like waves rippling on the sand. "You think we'd drop that delicious information?" Steve clicked his tongue, "You are sadly mistaken."
Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. You wrapped your arms around your middle to bring back some warmth into your shivering body. Your skin dotted with goosebumps from the icy air like a brand. "Well, I'm cold, so I'm heading back inside. You two can freeze your asses off for all I care," you murmured angrily, cautiously trudging through the forest once more.
In a blink, one of the cloaked figures was in front of you. You ceased your movements as the other stepped out from behind him, like a reflection. You couldn't tell which one was which; it was irrelevant at this point.
"Run," Bucky's voice dipped into something terrifying. It set you on edge, but strangely made that fire in your core ignite.
"I'm not playing your fucked up game anymore," you glared into the pitted eye sockets of their masks like four tiny black holes sucking you in.
"I don't think Buck stuttered," Steve growled, low and insistent. "Run. And when we catch youâŠ" He trailed off, looking to his match.
"We fuck you," Bucky finished, and you could hear the grin even under his covering.
Your breath caught in your throat, a quick sound escaping as a tightness filled your chest. The fire in your gut felt like a raging inferno, consuming your insides like a forest fire. You had never seen this side of them before; your usually calm friends were penetrating your very being with their voices alone, like a large drill boring into you.
You don't know why, but you immediately obeyed, knowing their tones left no room for argument. Your feet carried you swiftly back into the woods, feet slipping from the muddy ground. They chased right after you, the sound of boots bouncing clear across the wooded section.
Your heart thumped against your chest, but not from fear, butâŠexcitement. You were living a fantasy that was only ever constructed in your mind, like a spinning film reel. You sprinted with a newfound purpose, the adrenaline propelling you. They gained on you rapidly. Of course, they were super soldiers and clearly weren't using all of their abilities to catch you.
You ducked under a particularly large branch, jerking your head left and right for a place to conceal yourself, but to no avail. Their boots trudged behind you like a thumping bass to a creepy song.
"Tired yet, sweet girl?" Steve called, voice barely worn. "Better save some energy for us. We're gonna be a handful."
Your stomach flipped as you surged forward. You almost stopped, the desire making your blood run hot in your veins. Instead, you took a sharp turn toward a towering, wide tree and came to a halt in front of it. You knew it was a bad idea, but you decided to go along with it anyway.
You planted your bare foot onto the rough bark while you swung your arm up to grasp a thicker branch. You hauled yourself up with all the strength you could muster without the leverage of shoes. Your other arm came up to wrap around it, pulling yourself further up.
Leaves crunching announced the pair's arrival, boots slowing to a stop. "Oh, darlin'. You gotta be smarter than that," Bucky mused.
His words went in one ear and out the other as you continued your pursuit. One foot slipped from its position, causing you to slide down slightly, pieces of bark chipping off like old paint. "Careful, wouldn't want to hurt yourself. We'll be doing plenty of that ourselves. Leave you absolutely wrecked, sweetheart," Steve warned you cheekily.
You dug the ball of your foot into a branch, lifting yourself like you couldn't even hear either of them. You didn't even glance down to acknowledge their presence, just ascended higher.
"Enough of this," Bucky muttered, footsteps marching onward. You felt cool metal fingers wrap around your ankle and gave a hard yank. You gasped, palms getting cut up from your descent. You scrambled, trying to regain your balance, but his touch remained firm.
"Bucky," you screeched, "Quit. You're hurting me." Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued to tug, fingers digging into your ankle as if to show you he could do much worse. He jerked on your leg, causing your opposite foot to slip from its spot and plummet.
You fell into his arms, bridal style, with short, intakes of breath. You pushed and shoved at his shoulders, but he didn't budge. Instead, he threw you to the ground with a forceful thud, sticks splintering beneath you. "'M done waitin'," Bucky snapped, hovering over you. Steve came into view next to him, and you knew the game was officially over.
Still, you fought. You rolled over onto your stomach, elbows pressing into the dirt as you crept away. This time, a warm hand found your calf, pulling you back and turning you over. "You don't listen, do you?" Steve inquired, but it didn't seem like he was waiting for an answer. "Game over. You lost. Now, we claim our prize."
He kneeled, his strong hand pinning your arms above your head while the other removed the mask. He leaned forward, and now you saw the hunger sparkling in his wild eyes. You squirmed, but it was useless. You didn't want to leave anyway; the way he was gazing down at you was too tempting to resist him anymore.
"Squirm all you like. 'S not gonna change what's gonna happen to you." His fingers traced along your jaw until he cupped it firmly. "Open wide."
You hesitated, which wasn't the correct response because he squeezed, forcing it slightly agape. You parted your lips, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he cooed before promptly spitting into your mouth. You were briefly stunned, but he pulled you right back to reality as he spoke, "Swallow f' me."
You did as he asked, letting his saliva slide down your throat, and he hummed in approval. "Givin' you a sample before all you can taste is me, huh? You won't be able to wash me from your mouth once 'm done with you."
You felt a set of handsâmetal and fleshâgliding up your legs to part them, settling between your thighs. Fingers danced on your flesh, inching closer to your throbbing pussy. Two digits skimmed across the seam of your shorts, making your hips jerk upward at the sensation it sent to your clit through the thin fabric.
"So wet," Bucky commented darkly. "Someone is either really turned on by gettin' chased or by the thought of us destroyin' you."
Letting impatience cloud his judgement, he hooked his fingers into your shorts and tugged them down the length of your legs. He tossed them somewhere in the grass without remorse. He lowered himself, removing the mask, along with the cloak, to gawk at the panties you were sportingâpink and lacy. They could almost be perceived as innocent if not for the wet spot dampening the material. "Picked such a pretty pair f' me, huh, darlin'?" He stated cockily, his eyes darkening.
Bucky breathed deeply, inhaling your scent as his nose appeared to be inches away from your cunt. His tongue darted out, licking his lips with a hum. Steve gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to the blonde. "You gonna let him taste you, pretty baby?"
You nodded, though you knew you didn't truly have a choice; he was just giving you an illusion of having one. "Such an obedient little slut. My little slut," Steve murmured against your lips before capturing them in a heated kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, softly moaning at the brush of his lips.
His mouth was persistent, demanding access to yours. He nipped at your bottom lip, dragging a gasp from your throat. He took the opportunity to shove his tongue through the gap between your lips. Tongue prodding into all the crevices of the cave of your mouth.
You heard a shing, then something with a cold bite gliding across your inner thigh. Your initial thought was Bucky's metal finger, trailing down your flesh, but it had a serrated edge. Your eyes shot open, but Steve was holding you in place.
Steve's hand drifted to the back of your neck, craning it back to deepen the kiss. You melted back into the kiss, letting your worries dissolve. However, that didn't last long.
Piercing pain to your soft, supple skin. Roger's lips muffled your screams, and you squirmed once more. "Shh," Bucky soothed, dragging the blade down as his other hand gently massaged your thigh in a strangely comforting manner. "Just wanna make sure you know who you belong to."
The knife clattered to the ground, your blood seeping over the slit he created with the blade. His mouth was on you in an instant, lathering you in his saliva as he cleaned your wound. His mouth left you, but not before placing a tender kiss on the injured area.
Icy fingers pulled your blush panties to the side, hot breath fanning across your slick folds. Bucky flattened his tongue, licking a broad stripe through your wetness. You whined into Steve's mouth, but he swallowed your sounds with another sweep of his tongue.
Bucky lifted your leg, hooking it over his shoulder. He pressed your other thigh to the ground, keeping you spread for him. "Tastes so sweet. Could get addicted to this sweet pussy," he rasped, diving in for another taste. The tip of his tongue swirled around your sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth. You arched your back, hips wiggling from the pleasure he was giving you.
Steve pulled away, his teeth biting your bottom lip and tugging gently before freeing it. Your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as you glanced down at the man feasting upon you like a wild animalâa lion devouring a pure, feeble fawn. His feral eyes locked on you, looking up through his lashes as his tongue dipped, teasing your tight hole.
You let out a strained whimper, the pleasure coiling in your gut like a spring ready to release with a pop. Steve sat back on his haunches, releasing you from his grasp in the process. He shed the black cloak, leaving it to float to the ground like a deflated ghost. His nimble fingers fiddled with his belt, metal clanking as he extracted the leather from its buckle. You jerked your head, watching the action intently.
His hardened cock sprang forth as he yanked the denim and boxers down his hips. Your jaw dropped; what the fuck were you supposed to do with that monster? Your pussy clenched at the sight, squeezing Bucky's tongue that was jabbing into you.
"Gimme your hand, sweet thing. Be a good girl and stroke it, alright?" Steve coaxed, taking your outstretched hand. He brought it to his dick, wrapping your delicate digits around his girth. He moved your hand for you at first, giving himself the perfect grip with your fingers. Precum leaked from the aching tip, glistening slightly even in the dark of the night.
Steve's knuckles grazed over the apple of your cheek, grinning down at you. "There you go. Doin' so good," he praised, dropping his hand to his side to sit back and enjoy the show. You pumped him at a leisurely pace at first, admiring the way he felt in your palm.
Bucky groaned against your cunt, vibrations rippling through your body. You moaned, his tongue working you closer to the edge with every sensual suck, swirl, and lick. You stroked Steve quicker in response, forcing a low grunt from his lips.
Bucky's tongue lashed between your folds like a weapon, flicking it over your clit before diving back down to lap at your juices. You writhed beneath him, his unabating tongue sending sparks across your flesh.
"Buck," you whined desperately. Still, your fist continued to move along Steve's shaft in harsh strokes.
"I know, darlin'. Let me get you there," he mumbled around his working tongue. He pushed the tip back into your weeping pussy, practically fucking you with it.
Steve inclined forward, reaching down. His fingers advanced to your swollen clit, rubbing slow, precise circles into it. You keened, hips canting upward as the pleasure became overwhelming.
Without much more effort, the damn broke, pleasure washing over you in waves as you came on Bucky's unyielding tongue. Hips bucked, and your free hand dug into the grass below, ripping out the green threads.
Still, neither of them ceased their pleasing actions. You were wailing, hand falling away from Steve's cock, flicking back towards his lower stomach with a gentle slap. You tried and failed to push at Bucky's shoulder and Steve's forearm, but they didn't give in.
"Please," you begged, "too much."
"Oh, Pretty girl. 'M afraid you don't know what that's like yet," Steve growled with a saccharine smirk. His hand shifted off your overstimulated clit to grab your throat. Not to restrain, but to hold you there against the forest floor.
"Now, open. I'll show you what too much is," he demanded. You obeyed, your mouth wide as erotic noises were ripped from your throat.
Steve patted your cheek in acclamation before he gripped the base of his dick and brought the tip to your parted lips. He eased into your mouth and down your throat. His tip bumped the back of your throat, making you wrap your lips around him as you choked on the length of him.
Spit sputtered around your lips, and still he kept going until your nose pressed against his skin. You gagged around him, tears pricking your eyes like a reminder of what they were doing to you.
"Such a perfect throat," he groaned, squeezing your neck for a moment before going back to the same pressure as before. "Ooh, I can feel myself in there."
His hips pulled back and then thrust forward again. "Gonna fuck this pretty throat until you've memorized the feel of it, baby," Steve added while his hips jerked onward.
You were still high on your orgasm, another one building as Bucky mouthed at your cunt. Now, your head was reeling from both sensations the super soldiers were giving you.
Your nails dug into the flesh of Steve's thigh while he fucked your mouth senseless. Your other hand searched for something to grab to ground yourself. Bucky's metal hand found yours, and he squeezed it before gingerly resting your interlocked hands on your torso.
"I've got you, darlin'," Bucky's rough voice came, planting a kiss on your bundle of nerves, and then going back to work.
It wasn't long before you were moaning around Steve's cock, another orgasm threatening to wrack through you. A muffled animalistic noise escaped you as you fell over the edge for a second time. Two back-to-back climaxes brought your body to a shuddering mess.
Steve withdrew his dick so that you could breathe through your release. After drawing your orgasm a little longer, Barnes' mouth finally relented.
Your eyelids closed automatically, utterly exhausted just from two intense releases. Steve leaned down, pressing a few kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and the tip of your nose. Bucky trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses to your limp form until they both were hovering above you.
"You doin' alright, sweetheart?" Steve asked, tone laced with concern. You nodded weakly, not quite ready to open your eyes.
"Poor thing," Bucky remarked, knuckles brushing over your heated cheeks. Without further deliberation, he picked you up from the ground, standing up with your head resting against his shoulder.
"Wrap your legs around me, baby." He nudged your thigh lightly, coaxing. You did as you were told, loosely enveloping his waist while you folded your arms over his neck. "There ya go. Gonna get you inside."
He pressed a kiss to your hairline, arm firmly covering your back as his other palm cupped your ass. He carried you into the compound, Steve hot on his heels.
In a blink, you were in Bucky's bedroom, hiking your legs up, so he didn't crush them as he lay down. You gazed up at him, a small smile spreading across your lips.
"There she is," he whispered, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Ready for more, or do you need a longer break? We'll wait as long as you need."
He glanced at the end of the bed where Steve had undressed himself. The bed dipped under his weight as he waited for your answer, analyzing you for any sign of wanting to back out.
"I'm ready," you confirmed, pushing up on Bucky's chest, adjusting to straddle his hips.
Your dripping cunt lingered over the strain in his jeans. You dragged your slick folds over the seam along the denim, and you shivered while he grunted, fingers grabbing at your hips. You fidgeted with the button, pushing it through the slit of his pants.
Steve scooted in behind you, palms greedily gripping your waist as his mouth attacked your neck. You shifted, tugging at Bucky's denim-clad thighs, but they wouldn't budge. Steve chuckled against your skin, "Let me help with that."
He took over, grasping at the material and pulling it down his legs until his friend's cock was freed. An angry, red-tipped dick taunted youâthe length, the girth. If you thought you wouldn't be able to handle Steve's before, you certainly weren't able to take this one.
"Fuck," you mumbled lowly.
"Look how hard you got him, just from getting you off," Steve observed, seizing Bucky's cock with a rough pump of his fist. Bucky moaned, head falling back against the sheets. Steve's other palm came back to your torso, holding you steady as he lined up Barnes' tip with your entrance.
The pair forced you unhurriedly down his length. You whined as he stretched you out with every delicious inch. Bucky spoke through his clenched teeth, "So fuckin' tight, shit-"
You sank further onto his dick, reaching behind you to cup the side of Steve's face as your other hand stayed as a support on Bucky's toned chest. You tilted your head, and the blonde's mouth was on yours in an instant, devouring any of your sounds. The kiss was all tongues lashing and teeth nipping.
The super soldier below you bottomed out, leaving you whimpering against Steve's lips. You broke the kiss to focus on Bucky again. Your hips rose, then you slammed down on him. He let out a sharp curse, gaze focused on you as you began to ride him. You bounced up and down on his cock as Steve's hands wandered up your figure, taking the shirt with him.
"That's a good girl. Ride him nice and slow, just like that," Steve encouraged, slipping you out of your top.
You were entirely bare for both of them, tits on full display. Bucky's eyes went hooded, looking lostâlost in you and in his desire. "Fuckin' gorgeous." He promptly released your hip to cup your breast, squeezing delicately as his thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple.
"Prettiest girl I've ever seen," Steve muttered into the crook of your neck, massaging your other breast with extra care.
"Come 'ere," Bucky lured you in with his voice alone. You lowered yourself while he craned his neck to suck one of your peaked nipples into his mouth. You gasped, his tongue swirling and teeth lightly biting.
Steve's dick pressed against the swell of your ass. He squeezed and gripped your cheeks, most likely leaving an indent. When you glanced over your shoulder, he was lining himself up with your ass, tip nudging your second hole.
Your breath hitched, "Steve, I can't-"
The blonde swiftly cut you off, "S'alright, sweet thing. I'll be gentle, promise." He planted a kiss on the line of your spine to comfort you. His hips twitched forward, pushing into you with a deep groan. Your nails dug into Bucky's chest, creating little crescent moon shapes as you cried out.
Barnes' arm wrapped around you, hauling you into his chest. You laid down flat, cheek squished against his peck as Steve's cock penetrated you. Bucky rubbed soothing circles into your back as you adjusted to both of them. "Shh, I said I got you, baby," he reassured once more.
"So full," you whined.
"Oh, but you're takin' us so well," Steve commented with a snap of his hips. You screeched, your body trembling from the new sensation.
Bucky's heels dug into the mattress, rocking his hips up into you. You bit your lip so hard that blood dribbled down your chin. Your face contorted in pleasure as Steve thrusted from behind, an iron grip on your hips as he lost control.
They worked in tandem; one driving deep into your pussy as the other pulled out slightly, then vice versa. If you were overwhelmed by their actions before, you didn't know what you were now. Utterly cock drunk, full, and slipping into a cloud of ecstasy.
The next second, they picked up their pace, thrusting into you without any real rhythm. You were a moaning, whimpering mess as you felt the actual weight of the double penetration.
"Please," you pleaded again, but you weren't exactly sure what for. You didn't want them to stop, but the way they were filling you, it felt like the thin wall between them might break you.
Steve's hands were dragging down your sides, coaxing and gentle. "You're doin' so good, just stay like that."
"Feels so fucking good," you wailed, burying your face in Bucky's chest.
"There you go, give in to it, darlin'. Bein' such a good girl, letting us destroy you like this," Bucky praised, hips stuttering slightly. "You're ruined for everyone else, aren't you?"
You nodded against his firm muscles, trying not to fall over the edge too soon. You were getting used to the feeling, loving how they felt sliding against one another, with only a thin barrier between them. There was absolutely no other way you wanted to be fucked.
"Breathe, sweetheart. Almost there," Steve said, squeezing the globes of your ass and spreading you further.
You tried to calm yourself; inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. It was too damn difficult with the way their cocks prodded into your tightening holes.
Bucky shifted you slightly, and with the new position, he bumped your sweet spot repeatedly. You crooned, cunt clenching around him like a vice.
"Ooh, I felt that. You close, pretty girl?" Steve asked, but he really didn't need the answer, given how your body quivered.
Steve's hand wedged between you and Bucky's body, searching for your sensitive bud, hoping to make you fall apart onto both of their cocks. His fingers rubbed at your clit with a violent force. Your form jerked, back arching into Steve.
"Fuck, darlin'. That's it. Come all over our cocks. Make it messy. Wanna see you come apart on my cock," Bucky rambled, hands framing your face as he brushed the hairs from your eyes. He stared at you with every inch of his attention, intent on watching your climax unfold.
It didn't take long before your pussy fluttered around Bucky, asshole clenching right along with it. You came with a broken sob, tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.
Your vision went white; you swore you saw stars in the height of your orgasm. Your eyes fluttered closed, your head feeling heavier in Bucky's palms. "Fuck," he grunted, voice strained from the tight hold you had on him. "So beautiful when you come."
Your body nearly convulsed as they continued to fuck you through it. Their cocks almost twitched in unison as they moaned loudly; nothing but sounds of pleasure and skin slapping together filled the room.
Bucky lifted his hips, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you. Then it was Steve's turn to jam his dick as far as it could go, it pulsing inside you as hot ropes of cum filled you from both angles.
You fell onto Bucky's chest, your whole body sighing from exhaustion. You felt impossibly full, your combined releases dripping down your inner thigh and creating one giant mess.
You felt sticky and worn, your head spinning from the experience. But at the same time, you felt utterly content.
Steve pulled out of you with a hiss, steadying himself against the edge of the mattress. The other super soldier didn't make any move to rid himself of you. Instead, his arms draped across you like a blanket.
"Did so good f' us, darlin'," Bucky mumbled, tucking your head under his chin.
The bed creeked as Steve's form left the two of you before returning with a wet rag. You shivered as he wiped down the places that were slick with mess.
You hummed, nuzzling your cheek into Bucky like a cat, cuddling into her owner. "Thanks, Stevie," you acknowledged weakly.
He chuckled in return, "My pleasure, sweetheart." After he threw the cloth in its designated hamper, he crawled back into the bed beside the two of you.
"Gonna move you, okay?" Bucky mentioned before lifting you effortlessly off his length with a sharp intake of breath. He drew you into his side, placing you between the blonde and himself. Your face squashed into Bucky's peck like your own personal pillow as Steve curled behind you, resting his arm over your waist.
"Super soldier sandwich," you murmured softly, already drifting off to sleep.
They laughed at your tired-out state. "That's right, baby," Steve whispered, kissing the shell of your ear. The space was filled with a quiet as the three of you settled against each other.
After a few silent minutes, Bucky spoke up, "That's not the last time that's happening, just so y'know, darlin'."
You groaned lowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Bucky let out a satisfied sigh, planting a lingering kiss on your forehead before letting you rest.
You couldn't even think right now, let alone think about another round in any capacity. But it felt nice to revel in the company of the men on either side of you. You snorted to yourself; fuck, Scream just became your new favorite movie.
Pairing | Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary | While costume shopping, Bucky stumbles across a sexy forties nurse outfit, scanning it like he was envisioning you in it. When you mentioned it, he got all flustered, telling you it was nothing. You purchased it anyway, planning for a memorable night.
Warnings/ Tags | established relationship, nsfw, MDNI (18+), smut, roleplaying, subby!Bucky (please, I love him so much), soft dom!reader, praise, hand job, oral (m receiving), grinding, premature ejaculation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweet baby, good boy), dick pronouns, no use of y/n
Word Count | 2.4k
A/N | Welcome to day two of Bucktober! First Kinktober post, LET'S GO!! This is an appreciation post dedicated to my love for my subby husband. Bring back whimpering and whining like a fucking freak fr fr!! Okay, my lovelies, hope you enjoy and happy gooning:))
"How about this one?" You asked, holding up a Barbie costume and a Ken one to match.
Bucky scrunched his brows, clearly offended by the mere idea of dressing up in an all black cowboy getup with a pink ascot. "How 'bout no," he grumbled.
"Come on, Buck. That's the tenth one you've said no to," you pleaded, hooking the set back on the rack and striding over to the next section.
"The party is next week. Can you at least try to be helpful?" You added, thumbing through the next rack of outfits. He didn't answer, so you glanced over your shoulder. "Baby?"
He was in another section, primarily for women, practically gawking at them. It was the sexier selection. They barely passed as costumes. You wouldn't be surprised if the employees went through the lingerie department and said, "This could work as a Halloween costume."
You couldn't tell if he was baffled by the thought of someone going out in public like that orâŠturned on? His fingers delicately ran over the fabric of one of the costumesâa sexy nurse outfit. It was a tight pale blue dress with a white collar. The white cap at the top of the hook indicated it was a Red Cross style costume with the scarlet logo displayed in the middle. And you figured the reason he was so intrigued by it was because it appeared to be inspired by the forties.
His tongue ran along his bottom lip before capturing it with his pearly whites. His palms ran up the sides of the dress. Was he imagining someone in it? "Would you like to go in matching nurse costumes, James?" you teased, coming up behind him.
His hands immediately fell away, balling them into fists at his side. He glanced over at you, a flush creeping up his neck and settling into the apples of his cheeks. He swallowed hard, muttering, "What? No."
You hummed, smirking, "I bet you got hurt on purpose all the time when you were in the army, huh? Just to see those pretty ladies in their uniforms."
He blushed a deeper shade of red, matching the cross on the costume. He shook his head dramatically, scoffing, "That's ridiculous, and a total waste of their time."
"Oh, don't forget I know you were a player back then," you stated, shoving him gently. "So, who was the lucky woman who caught Sargent Barnes' attention?" you inquired, eyes flicking over to the outfit again.
Bucky furrowed his brow when he realized you thought he was reminiscing. "No, I-" he cut himself off, words getting caught in his throat. His gaze dropped, eyes slowly moving up your body until they locked with your irises.
Oh. He was picturing you in that. You don't know why it didn't click earlier. It wasn't your style. You didn't wear anything that accentuated your figure. You liked loose sweaters and baggy jeans. But with the way he was looking at you, you wanted to say to hell with your fashion sense and bring that thing home.
The corners of your lips twitched. "Should I buy it?" Your voice dipped into something sultry. His jaw ticked, Adam's apple bobbing as he thought about your question.
Before he could fully decide, he was turning on his heel, heading in the other direction. "Can we pick out this stupid couple's costume already?" he murmured. You softly snorted, watching as he disappeared behind the clothing racks. You tilted your head, scanning the ensemble once more. You yanked it off the hanger before you could think better of it, and sprinted off after your boyfriend. This was going to be a fun night.
Red stiletto heels click-clacked across the hardwood floor, fabric slightly shuffling as you sauntered out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit living room. "James Barnes? Is there a Mr. Barnes here?" you ask, voice honeyed.
You round the couch, standing in front of Bucky. The sky-blue material clung to your body like a second skin. The first few buttons of the dress were undone, tits practically spilling out of the opening. The hem of the outfit hit your upper thighs, the fabric stretching against their thickness.
He looked dumbfounded. His jaw unhinged, mouth somewhat agape. His wide eyes drank you in, gaze tracing the dip of your waist, the curve of your breasts, and your bare legs. It was all too much for the poor guy. His chest heaved with every breath. "Are you James?" you repeat, trying to stay in character, feigning professionalism.
When he found his voice again, it was rough and raspy. "W-what're you doin'?"
You stepped closer, placing your hand on your jutted-out hip. "You did make an appointment, right, honey?" His eyes were dark, but confusion flickered across his face, so you added, "Look, I don't have all day, Mr. Barnes. Do you want this appointment or not? Because I have other patients waiting."
His mouth opened and closed several times. He sat up straighter in his spot on the sofa before he finally answered, "Yes, ma'am."
You smiled widely; he was playing along. Your plan seemed to be coming together. "Beautiful." You lowered your voice, seduction laced in your tone, "Now, you had the cock inspection, yes? Wanna make sure everything's working correctly?"
Bucky let out a shaky breath, adjusting his position once more as you began to notice the new guest under the denim of his jeans, making his presence known. "Y-yeah," he stuttered.
"Very good," you commended. You closed the distance, putting your hands on his knees and spreading them wide. You settled yourself in between his thighs, dropping to your knees with a gentle thud. Your hands moved, rubbing up and down his thighs. His wild eyes watched you intently. "You doing okay, honey?"
He nodded his head frantically, his lips parting with heavy breaths exiting the small space. "Oh, sweet baby," you cooed. "I'm gonna need an audible answer. Can you be a good boy and do that for me?"
He was nearly trembling under your palms, hips jerking instinctively upward at the nickname. "Yes, I'm doin' alright," he clarified.
Your fingers inched closer to the strain in his pants. "Good boy," you praised, steady fingers freeing the button from its slit. His thighs twitched again, impatient and needy. "ShhâŠjust gonna make sure everything's in working order. Stay still for me."
You gripped his jean-clad thighs, pulling the fabric downward, enough to catch sight of the boxers underneath. Your delicate digits danced along the waistband of his boxers. They slid beneath the band to pull out his hardened cock, wrapping your dainty fingers loosely around his girth.
He pulsed in your hand, the head aching, and leaking drops of precum. "Looks like you have no trouble getting hard. That's good news," you observed. "Let's see how he reacts to touch, huh?" You tightened your grip slightly, giving him one good pump of your fist. He grunted at the sensation, his thighs tense from trying to remain motionless for you.
The precum dripped down the slit of his dick, landing on one of your knuckles. "Oh, very reactive. That's exactly what a good nurse likes to see." Your hand moved again, giving him slow, precise strokes. He let out a strained sigh, his eyelashes fluttering.
"Does that feel alright?"
Bucky's head lulled to the side, little moans escaping his throat. "Yeah, darlin'. 'S real good." You hummed in approval, your other hand drifting back on his thigh to gently massage the muscles as your other worked him.
Your stomach flipped at the sight of him like this. You were on your knees, but utterly in control. And he was into it. More than into it; he was high off it. High off the praise, the pleasure, the way his girl was all dressed up for him. His eyes were locked on you, watching your every move, shift, ragged breath as if you were the only thing that mattered to him. The world fell away, narrowing only to you.
You leaned forward, your warm breath fanning across the head of his cock. "We gotta check how sensitive this tip is. It's an important part of the examination," you explained, placing a soft kiss on the reddened tip. He hissed, shivering at the contact of your mouth on him.
"UghâŠplease," he begged, voice pitching into a whine. You laughed darkly, your wrist working to pump him more firmly.
"Patience," you sing-song. "I like taking my time with my patients. Gotta make sure I thoroughly inspect every part of him." You plant another peck to his tip, lips brushing the ridge like dancing dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. He squirmed, hips stuttering as you teased him.
"PleaseâŠplease, need that pretty mouth," he pleaded with you once more, eyes glazing over with desire.
You glanced up through your thick eyelashes, a grin spreading across your lips. "Now, how can I say no to that when you beg so nicely for me?" Your tongue darted out, your head dipping down between his legs to lick along his shaft. He sucked in a sharp breath, stomach muscles twitching as your saliva thinly coated the underside of his dick.
You swirled your tongue around the head before muttering, "Hold my hair for me, sweet baby?" He instantly obeyed, nodding. Calloused fingers carded through your silky strands. He gathered your hair with both handsâmetal and flesh. Then, he formed a makeshift ponytail with his fist, lightly holding it in his warm hand.
"That's my good boy. Gonna see how long you can last while you're shoved down my throat," you said, still acting the part. You opened wide, mouth hovering over him until you wrapped your lips around his throbbing cock. He moaned, a rattling noise from deep in his chest. Your head inched further down, taking his length further into your mouth and down your throat.
You gagged around him, spit slipping through the cracks of your lips. His mouth opened, gasping as he hit the back of your throat. Your movements were measured, head bobbing up and down on his dick at a leisurely pace. His head fell back against the couch, eyes to the ceiling.
You replaced your mouth with your hand again. "Eyes on me, James," you scolded. His head rolled, dropping between his shoulders as his pleasure-filled gaze secured on your face.
"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled. "Sorry, you jus' feel so good."
"It's okay, honey. Just need you to remember who's making you feel like this." Your mouth returned to its original position. You began to work him sloppily. You speed up your pace, taking him deeper. Saliva spilled from the edges of your lips, moaning as you felt his hips jut forward. The vibrations of your sounds spread through him, along with another wave of pleasure.
"How could I possibly forget?" he answered weakly. Tremors wracked through his form with every pass of your tongue along his shaft and every sensual swirl around the head. He nearly panted, chest rising and falling quickly as your lips envelop him tighter. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking him until he was grunting from how intense the feeling was.
"Darlin'," he groaned, eyes blown and muscles tense. He was twitching in your mouth, and you could tell he was getting closer to that edge, threatening to fall over into a cloud of ecstasy. You pushed your mouth all the way down, his happy trail tickling your nose as you coughed around his girth. Then, you pulled off of him. A wet slap resonated as his cock fell to his upper thigh.
He whimpered. He actually whimpered when the presence of your mouth disappeared, intentionally edging him. "I-I was so close. Please, n-need to cum," he stuttered with upturned eyebrows.
You rose from the floor, unbuttoning the bottom part of your dress, the material loosening around your legs. You swung your leg up and onto the couch, straddling his thighs. His hands immediately grabbed your hips to steady you. "I changed my mind. I want you inside me when you cum. It's for my study on this pretty cock," you asserted sweetly.
His dick twitched pathetically on his thigh. You took him firmly in your grasp while your other hand moved your lacy panties to the side. You scooted forward until the lips of your cunt meet his shaft. Hips rocked back and forth, coating him in your wetness.
"Baby," he whined, "C-can't." You ground down on his length, not quite making any move to push him inside your weeping pussy, just sliding between your slick folds.
You cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the flush of it. "Poor thing. So desperate for release," your tone was condescending as you spoke. "You can do it, just gotta hold out for me, yeah?" You patted his cheek as you glided over him, his dick running through your wet heat repeatedly. His tip nudged your clit, eliciting a pleasant moan from your parted lips.
His hips rutted upward at the simple noise. "'M beggin' you, darlin'. 'M not gonna last." You pretended to ignore his pleas, grinding against him. Leaning forward, you trailed a few sloppy kisses to his jawline. He whimpered again, cock spasming between your folds, hips jerking desperately.
"MmmâŠmy good boy," you whispered against his skin. Just like a light switch, his cock pulsed, white hot spurts of cum coated both of you. Grunts turned to whines as his release erupted onto your costume and his black shirt. The white stain was a stark contrast to his dark clothing, and there was no denying what he had just done because the evidence was directly in front of both of you.
"S-sorry," he apologised in a shaky voice, "Tried to warn you."
You gave him an affectionate smile, "You did, didn't you?" Your fingers moved to push a lock of sweaty hair from his face. You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose before murmuring, "Next time, we'll finish out the examination while you're inside me."
He let out a gentle huff of air, a weak attempt at laughter from his exhaustion. He glanced down, eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Fuck, I ruined your outfit."
You giggled, a light and airy sound. "That's alright, just means I can buy a new one. What do you say, next time I dress up as a sexy teacher, spank you with a ruler?"
His eyes went hooded, a soft grin playing on his lips in response. "You're gonna kill me, I swear it."
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He cums accidentally while trying to hold it together during a sex scene.
Imagine a gorgeous but shy beefy Bucky nervous as hell filming an intimate scene with his co star because hes harbouring the most massive crush on her.
He in nothing but a tiny cup covering his most private parts, his perky sculpted ass barely covered by the thin sheet laid on top you both.
âYou okay?â He whispers, always checking in on you, his large mass covering you entirely. You give him a shy smile, nodding, the feel of your hands moving to drape around his shoulder making him blush.
âAlright! Get ready to sell it Barnesâ Tony calls out, hushing everyone before he starts rolling, signalling a thumbs up to sam to start filming âand action!!â
Bucky braces himself on his forearms keeping his body off yours, moving forward instead of actually thrusting. The lewd sounds you start to make make his hips involuntarily buck forward more than necessary and he nearly stutters.
âOh God! Please, slow downâ you cry softly, portraying your role as a shy house wife perfectly, nervous to consummate her marriage.
Bucky doesnât think he can take your delicate pleading, his cock straining, desperate for some relief. He can feel it leaking the more you moan, his knuckles turning white gripping onto the sheets.
âSo good to meâ Bucky whispers back, swallowing thickly as his mind starts to wander over how youâd sound it he was actually stretching you out. Would you moan about how he was too big? Would you beg for him to keep going till he dripped right out of your sweet cunt? Would you want to lick and taste how wet he got for you, moaning over how fat and thick his dick was, worried over how youâd fit all of him inside you? His massive size carried all over, the blush on his face spreading to his neck when his erection nearly brushes against your covered core.
You blink up at him, staring into his baby blue eyes feeling his hardness press against you as it grows, nearly wetting the sheets. Your eyes are locked together and Buckyâs sure heâs not going to control himself, not when youâre looking at him like that. Not when youâre biting your lip, he couldâve sworn he felt your hips buck up, your thighs spreading slightly.
You let out a whimper, his warm breath fanning over your face and he can smell how fucking wet you are. Heâs humping the air, just centimetres from where he really wants to be, fuck he wasnât going to hold it, his balls felt tight, his cock was going to fucking burst-
âKiss me My loveâ you say your final line before pulling him down for a heated kiss, letting it get more hot and heavy that the script intended. As soon as he tastes your tongue on his, he moans into your mouth, eyes rolling back, his back muscles flexed and tensed as he soaks the with his cum. He doesnât pull away, tearing the sheets with his grip as he cums hard, his cock throbbing, till he can feel the front all warm and damp, whimpering till heâs all empty.
âAND CUT! FANTASTICâ Tony cheers, over the moon with how it turned out, âthat was great and nice touch ripping the sheets Barnes, made it look real. Everyone take 5 and weâll shoot that diner sceneâ
Everyone starts to pack up to get ready for the next shoot and Bucky swears he hears you let out a little giggle as you pull away, smiling at his flustered state.
âYou okay, Buck?â You coo while he bites back a whine, his softening cock now sensitive and aching. Your assistant runs over to slip you into a robe, dragging you off to hair and makeup while he holds the sheet to the lower half of his body.
He grabs the robe Steve hands to him, smirking at his best friend with his head cocked to the side.
âYou sure that was acting, Buck?â Steve snorts, nodding to the wet patch on the sheet while Bucky groans, grabbing it and stuffing it away before running off to his room.
synopsis: Clark is curious about how he looks while he's in you...
cw: established relationship, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, Clark uses his x-ray vision and doesn't tell
wc: 841
Clark loves being in you. He loves how it feels, he loves making you enjoy yourself, and, most of all, he loves how beautiful you look while heâs inside you.
Heâs just always wanted to know what it looks like while heâs in you. The thought is there, eating at him in the back of his mind as he fucks you. He watches you, his eyes trailing from your gorgeous face to your tits, your soft tummy, lower, to where you two are joined.
Your folds are puffy from when he ate you out before, and theyâre now stretched open to fit his cock. He watches himself slide in and out, coated in your slick, and he feels your soft gummy walls squeezing him tight.
Fuck, he wants to see it. He wants to know what it looks like, wants to watch himself in youâŠ
Just a little peek, he thinks, keeping his eyes on where heâs filling you, and then using his x-ray vision.
The sight almost breaks him. He grunts, the hand on your hip squeezing you too tight, his hips rutting forward in a sudden, hard thrust.
You squeak softly, gasping at the sudden show of strength. Clark quickly regains his control and sheepishly mumbles, âGot carried away, sorry.â
He goes a little slower, and you melt under him, your body falling back into the steady rhythm heâs set.
But his eyes go back down, and he canât look away. Not when he can see how he looks in you.
Your gummy walls, all wet and pink, are stretched wide open by his cock. He watches himself drag against them, the way they wrap around his shaft and the thick head, the way they flutter with every slide of his cock.
Suddenly, Clark is very close to an orgasm. He stills for a minute, making you mewl softly, and he watches your walls pulsing around him.
âJust need a sec,â he mumbles, feeling a blush rise from his neck to the very tips of his ears. âJustâŠâ He shudders, moving a hand to splay over your womb and caress the soft skin of your lower abdomen. âIâm trying to last a little longer for you.â
âItâs okay,â you say breathlessly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
His hand moves a little bit lower, over your mound, and his thumb catches on your swollen clit. You whine, pushing your hips against his hand, and he feels you clench around him tight.
He sees it, too. The way your walls clamp down on his cock, all tight and warm as they suck him in.
God, heâs gonna lose it.
But he keeps going, wanting to make you come before he does, and he knows heâs not going to last while he watches himself sink into you.
âI got you, honey,â he mutters, gaze focused on the way you squeeze him, on how perfectly you fit him. âWant you to come for me. Can you do that?â
You nod, moaning his name softly, as a warm coil of pleasure starts tightening in your belly. He watches and feels you, mesmerized by the sight, and then he slowly starts moving too.
He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just the tip in, before sliding back into you, slowly. He watches the thick mushroom head part your walls, stretching them far as the rest of him follows until he fills you completely. The tip brushes against your cervix, and the sensation has you tightening around him.
He keeps at it, fucking you like this, slowly, his eyes hooked on how he looks in you.
He hadnât been prepared for when youâd come.
He watches as you get wetter, slick dribbling everywhere. And when your orgasm finally hits, you moan his name, clamping down on him, tight, your walls hugging his cock and squeezing as hard as they can. He watches as you pulse and flutter, every little tremor of aftershock making your walls squeeze him tighter.
The sight knocks the breath from his lungs and sends his body into overdrive. He finishes just as you start to come down from your high, his cock twitching in you and spilling his thick, sticky cum right against your cervix. He grunts, watching it coat over your gummy walls, painting them in that whitish tone. It gathers right at the edge of your womb, waiting to get in and put his baby in you.
Heâs panting like a dog by the time heâs done, his arms shaking from the effort of holding himself up. He meets your gaze after a while, his cheeks a soft pink, eyes somewhat sheepish.
You just stare back at him, a soft smile on your lips. Youâve never seen him lose control like that, not even the first time he finally felt you raw.
Clark stares at you and wonders how the hell heâs going to explain what just happened.
đđđđđđđ - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk đ
So my brain came up with this idea: Bucky is the leader of a werewolf pack (just like twilight haha I'm so sorry) and he gets fond of that one girl where he instantly feels a connection cause the wolves fall in love only once in a lifetime and he knows it's you. So when you get attacked by vamps one night he steps in saving you and bringing you to their camp to take care of you. Then you Kinda feel love at first sight as well and stay by his side ?
I love this but this is going to be a first for me, writing this type of AU so bear with me. Some A/B/O themes to do with the werewolf theme but not exactly an a/b/o fic. Just making up my own damn rules for this AU, so look the other way if something doesnât make sense.Â
18+ cause smut but also lots of fluff, knotting, marking, protective Bucky with platonic protective Steve, Sam and Peter
-
He didnât mean to watch you so closely but he couldnât help it. Perhaps it was a part of his instincts to notice the finest details that surrounded him. Every day he saw you, there was something new that captivated him. The way the wind would tousle your hair. The way your nails were painted to match the shades of the fall. Whenever you bought your morning coffee, you bought a second one along with a muffin, handing it to the homeless man that stayed near by the coffee shop. Sometimes youâd spent a good few minutes talking to him before continuing with your day. Youâd hold the hand of the elderly woman who was slowly crossing the street, making sure she made it across safely before you went off to wherever you were going.Â
You saw beauty in everything. Everyone.
You were beautiful.
Pure.
Bucky shook his head, turning back to the bar, wiping down a few glasses, though still sneaking glances at the window as you walked by. Heâd first noticed you months ago, in the summer, blinking when he saw an unfamiliar but pretty face walking down the street, a bundle of sunflowers in your hand. His eyes lingered on you, smiling softly when you handed a little girl a flower before continuing down the street, disappearing around the corner. Bucky knew everyone around the area; after all it was his territory. The east belonged to his pack so he was curious about the sweet stranger heâd never seen before.Â
You didnât seem to pose a threat so he didnât dive into investigating you. The more often he saw you, the more heâd find to admire. It was late in the afternoon, meaning Bucky would only see you again closer to the end of his shift which would be around midnight. He felt his cheeks heat up when he realized he knew what your routine was.Â
Stop being creepy Bucky.Â
Hours went by, less than sober customers walking in and out, Sam, Steve and Peter were talking Buckyâs ear off about something he stopped paying attention to 20 minutes ago.Â
â...and thatâs how I caught Clint in the vents, you shouldâve seen his faceâÂ
âCaught in 4k, no capâ
âWhy would he be wearing a capâ
âIâm going to move you all to the graveyard shiftâ Bucky groaned, barely focused on their conversation, mostly because he lost track of whatever Peter was referencing, 15 references ago. He glanced at the clock, only a few more minutes left until he was off. It also meant you would be passing by his bar soon enough. Which is why he frowned when he didnât see you. For the past few months, Bucky noticed youâd always walk home, something he wasnât very fond of but itâs not like he could do anything about it. The area was generally safe but it wasnât perfect, especially at night.Â
Bucky shoved the uneasiness he felt to the back of his mind; you had a life outside of the moments he saw you. You could have taken a cab or gone home with a friend. Maybe you look a different route. Maybe you made plans. He thought of 101 reasons as to why he didnât see you to try convince himself he was worrying over nothing. Bucky grabbed his jacket, heading out into the cool night, the moon softly lighting the empty streets.Â
Something felt off.Â
The worry he felt when he didnât see you hadnât ceased and for some reason the feeling was growing.Â
Sheâs fine.
Sheâs made it home safe.Â
You donât even know her-
Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to a faint sound he heard near a pitch black alleyway. He took two steps towards it, only to hear silence filling the air.
Until he heard it again.Â
He knew he heard something, a pained whimper so quiet, he almost thought he imagined it. The hairs on his neck stood up, something not feeling right, bounding towards the source of the sound. His pupils dilated to scan the dark area, eyes growing wide when he saw the sight before him.Â
âQuiet!â John hissed, his teeth grazing your cheek. âSuch a pretty lookinâ princessâ he whispered, his fangs glistening under the moon light, his finger tracing along the column of your neck. âHold her stillâ He grumbled while his friend kept their hand firmly over your mouth, their other arm wrapped around your arms and waist.Â
âBeen watchinâ ya sweet heartâ Valentina purred, trailing a sharp nail down your cheek, a sinister smile on her face watching you struggle, âThese young ones are hungryâ She sat back on a crate, crossing her legs, while the blond grabbed a fist of your hair, craning it back to expose your neck. âGo on, make it quick before one of the mongrels find usâ She spat, venom in her voice, feeling a sense of uneasiness roaming the streets they were forbidden to set foot in.Â
âLadies firstâ John smirked while Sharon hummed, smacking your cheek when as you struggled, trying to break free. âThis will be a lot easier if youâd just fucking-
She stopped mid sentence, her eyes darting around her, the sudden scent of pinewoods and cedar evading her senses. AÂ snarl tore through the air, your eyes falling on a white wolf along with three others growling and stalking towards your attackers, the largest white one bounding towards you, pinning John underneath him. Sharon tried to grab you, her nails digging into your skin, only to be torn off by another wolf, dragging her by the ankle. You fell to the floor, gasping when the smallest wolf came to your aid, standing guard in front of you, warning for the others to back off. You couldnât place what it was but there was something distinct about each wolf, it was almost as if you could see their different personalities.Â
âFuck-â John tried to throw the large animal off him, heaving at the weight that sunk into his chest. Â
âYou donât belong hereâ The white wolf let out a deep growl, claws piercing into his chest, breaths heavy, fanning on his face, sharp teeth on full display. All you heard was a growl but John seemed to understand what it meant, frantically nodding his head. âLeave now, take the rest with youâ He understood the low rumble to be a final warning for them to leave if they wanted to stay alive.Â
âLets go!â Valentina had already jumped to the top of the building, not waiting for the rest, the group running off into the night, leaving you half bleeding and scratched on the ground. John gasped for air, scrambling off the floor as he managed to climb up a fire escape, striding across the rooftops to follow the rest.Â
Your heart stopped as the white wolf turned to face you, taking slow calculated steps, as if to show you he meant no harm. He was beautiful with piercing sapphire blue eyes and thick white fur. Your eyes grew wide, your breath catching in your throat as he began to shift, fur disappearing replaced with brunette hair, limbs now muscular arms and legs. There was no longer a wolf before you, a tall handsome stranger standing in its place. It was just you and him in the alleyway; the other three wolves who had protected you had trailed after your attackers to ensure they left the territory.Â
âAre you okay?âÂ
âWho-who are youâ You whispered, trembling in the corner as Bucky approached you, his teeth no longer sharp, eyes now a soft shade of blue. He carefully stepped towards you, kneeling on the ground to help you sit up, his touch gentle. âPlease donât hurt me-â
âI wonât hurt youâ He smiled softly, resting his hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your mind was still reeling over what you had just seen, your head feeling dizzy from the deep cuts that ran along your arm. The skirt of your dress had ripped, nicks covering your knees from where you fell.Â
âBut-you-â You stumbled over your words, your heart still rapidly beating out of your chest, âYou were just-âÂ
âFluffy and walking on four legs?â He gave you a playful smirk, his smile dropping when he noticed your eyelids grow heavy, your body exhausted. âYouâre really hurtâ
âMâokayâ You rasped but you knew you were far from it. The area where you were scratched began to burn and you didnât understand why. You let out a whimper of pain, clutching onto him as the pain worsened. Buckyâs heart broke, the need to protect you and take care of you overbearing all his other senses. He tucked you against his body, not thinking twice about his decision to bring you back with him.Â
âCome with me doll, weâll take care of youâ His voice was soft, soothing, like a warm blanket covering you. You gave him a faint nod, melting into his hold as he lifted you into his arms with ease. Something about him brought you a sense of calm you had never felt before.Â
It was the same feeling you felt when you stepped into your home after a long day. The feeling of slipping into a warm bath. The feeling of fresh sheets and a cool pillow. The first sip of hot chocolate on a cold day. Soul soothing.Â
You slipped in and out of consciousness, as he carried you through towards the forest that surrounded the area, his scent of pine and something distinctly him bringing you comfort. The soft crunch of twigs crunched beneath his footsteps as he walked down the trail towards a clearing.Â
Tall beautiful log cabins surrounded the camp, the area completely hidden from the outside world. Bucky managed to open the door to his cabin while still holding you close, setting you down carefully on the couch before frantically calling Wanda. By the time Wanda was knocking on his door, you were completely unconscious, bruises starting to form on your skin, your breathing slowed.Â
âShe was attackedâ Bucky stayed by your side while Wanda looked you over, running her hands carefully over your injures.Â
âVampires?â She asked Bucky, flecks of red flashing across her eyes when Bucky nodded. âWhat are they doing hereâ
âTheyâve been watching herâ Bucky swallowed thickly, the sense of dread returning when he thought about what could have happened if he hadnât found you in time. âThey were going to feed...â
âLeave it to them to prey on the most vulnerableâ Wanda shook her head in disgust, scanning the shelves for all the medicines sheâd made. She grabbed a small vial, squeezing a few droplets out onto your skin, wrapping the scratches with a soft cloth. âSheâll be okay, just needs to rest. They didnât bite her so she wonât be affected in anyway. Just keep an eye on her throughout the night in case sheâs in any painâÂ
Bucky nodded, thanking Wanda as she left. You stirred, the oil on your arm starting to sting making you groan in pain.Â
âDoll, are you alright? What hurtsâ Bucky was at your side in an instant, eyes clouded with worry. You clutched onto your arm, curling into a ball, biting your lip waiting for the pain to cease.Â
âJust stings, thatâs allâ You tried to bear the sting, letting out a strained groaned as the pain radiated more. It seemed to come in waves, pulsing through your body. Bucky crouched beside you so he was at eye level with you, his hand gently skimming over your covered scratches. You relaxed for a moment at his touch, your eyes meeting his pretty blue ones.Â
âItâs the healing oil. It stings more because...â Bucky bit his lip, pausing and choosing his words carefully, âWell, the medicines were made for-for our kind?â He gave you a lopsided smile, âItâs very potentâ
âYour kind?â You cocked your head, urging him to continue though there was only so much left to explain after youâd literally seen him shift from wolf to human.Â
âWerewolfâ He grinned; you could hardly believe moments ago his perfect teeth were razor sharp.Â
âWerewolf?â You repeated, still struggling to take in everything that had happened in the past few hours. Youâd always felt an intense unexplainable energy in the air since youâd moved to the area but you were not expecting werewolves. Or vampires for that matter. Bucky chuckled at your wide eyes, helping you sit up.Â
âNot Jacob from Twilight werewolfâ He playfully rolled his eyes while you giggled, âA real werewolf sweetheartâÂ
âAh, of course, so more Mason from Wizards of Waverly placeâ You giggled, half expecting yourself to wake up from whatever strange dream this was. âtell me moreâ
âHmmâ Bucky thought, not knowing where to start, a part of him worried youâd be scared off, though you didnât seem to be uncomfortable around him. âWeâve lived here for generations, the territory is ours. We donât typically reveal ourselves to the outside world. We donât have to wait for a full moon to change, we can do it any time. We shift according to our places in the packâ
âAnd what's your place in the packâÂ
âLeaderâ He smiled softly, proud of his pack, the family he loved more than himself.Â
âThank you by the wayâ, your fingers skimming over a few scratches that were on his hands, previously large paws when he had fought off Walker, âFor saving me...â You realized you didnât know his name.
âCall me Bucky, dollâÂ
Bucky insisted you sleep in his room though you refused, not wanting to impose. He laid out his softest and warmest blankets and coziest pillows, creating a safe space for you to sleep in. You gasped, looking at the way heâd set everything up, it almost resembled a nest of blankets and pillows. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, giving you some of his clean clothes to sleep in after you showered. You fell asleep instantly, his soft scent all over the bed lulling you into a peaceful slumber as soon as your head touched the pillow.Â
Bucky made his way back outside to check on Steve, Sam and Peter, rolling his eyes when he saw they were perfectly fine, the three nursing beers while sitting on the stairs of his cabin.Â
âWhat the hell are you-â
âSo this is who youâve been keeping an eye onâ Sam smirked, nudging Buckyâs shoulder while Steve and Peter shared shit eating grins.Â
âShut up Samâ
âSee? He didnât deny it!â
âSo what, youâve been watching me?â Bucky cocked and eyebrow while Sam scoffed.Â
âPlease. Youâre always looking out the window like a love sick puppyâÂ
Bucky was able to control many things with his body but he couldnât for the life of him control the blush that spread across his cheeks.Â
âI didnât know alphaâs could blushâ Steve cackled while the rest joined, each poking fun at the way his cheeks reddened more.Â
âIâm going to sleep, or so help me God-â He shook his head, going back inside and laying on the couch. He couldnât help the butterflies that fluttered around his tummy, the sweet sunshine he loved to see everyday was there.Â
In his home.
In his bed.
In his clothes.
...
Calm down Bucky.
He made sure to periodically check on you like clock work, not getting a wink of rest through the night, not when you had been hurt. He loved the way you looked, curled up in his bed, sleeping soundly. A flash of anger pulsed through him when his eyes fell on your bandages. Those that hurt you. Itâd be a problem for another day but heâd fine a permanent solution to that problem very soon.Â
*****
You blinked awake, the delicious scent or fresh berries and pancakes wafting through the air. You felt warmth creep up your cheeks when you found another fresh set of clothes placed by the bed along with a brand new tooth brush and a towel. You mentally scolded yourself for the way your heart tried to skip at his acts of kindness, but you couldnât help it.
There was something about him.Â
You quickly got changed, padding down to the table where stacks of pancakes were piled high along with cut up berries. Bucky grinned when he saw you, his heart fluttering again at the way his Henley hung loosely on you.Â
âGood morning doll, how you feelingâ
âBetter, again thanks to youâ You felt giddy over his handsome smile and yet a sense of calm whenever you were near him. You couldnât understand why you felt so comfortable around his presence. He was a stranger to you yet you felt like youâd found your place. Youâd known him for less than 24 hours but there was a connection. Around him, you felt protected. Cared for. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the leader, so naturally he had a very protective nature. That had to be it, itâs not like you were special to him. Â
You repeatedly had to remind yourself to stop gazing at him because there was another issue. Itâs not like you were blind. Bucky was gorgeous. You loved his scruffy beard and dark hair, what you wouldnât give to run your fingers through his soft-
What-Â
You blinked, clearing the rogue thoughts that tried to probe your mind, distracting yourself with breakfast instead.Â
âI didnât know werewolves liked pancakesâ You teased, ignoring the way your skin heated up, popping a berry into your mouth.
âI like to eat lots of things, dollâ Bucky smirked at the way you moaned, licking off a droplet of the berry juice that stained your lips. Your pretty lips. Soft. Supple. Kissable. Would look even prettier wrapped around his co-
He shook his head, hoping to get his mind out of the gutter, why was he like this. A knock on the door made you jump while Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing a few more plates before making his way to the door.Â
âFor fucks sake, even on a Saturdayâ Bucky mumbled to himself, knowing damn well the three idiots he called friends would have smelled him making breakfast from 3 cities away, let alone a few cabins down. You heard the voices of a few men, two large men about the size of Bucky entered the kitchen along with another who looked much younger.Â
âY/n, this is Steve, Sam and Peterâ
You instantly recognized the three as the very same ones who had came with Bucky the day you were attacked. All three of them were as sweet to you as Bucky but you couldn't help but find Peter the most adorable, who managed to eat the most out of everyone. They happily raided the kitchen, passing each other glances you couldn't pinpoint, each look making Bucky more flustered.
âYou protected meâ You smiled at Peter, who blushed, stuffing another pancake into his mouth while Sam shook his head in disgust.Â
âIt was nothing, weâre just happy youâre safeâ Peter preened at your praise, finishing the last of what was on the table.Â
âBarnes, Peter ate everything againâ
âFor fucks sake-âÂ
Bucky didnât let you lift a finger the entire morning, serving you everything you wanted and clearing the table away. In fact, he didnât let you do anything that day. Or the next. Or the day after that. A week. Two weeks. He wanted to make sure you were completely okay before letting you leave. He was there to take care of anything you needed, cleaning and applying the oil to your cuts, redressing the bandages. Getting you fresh clothes. Fluffing out your bed so itâd be warm and cozy. While you adored the warmth of his bed, you couldnât help but wish heâd just stay with you instead. Heâd introduced you to the rest of his pack, everyone happy to have you around when they saw the way his cheeks would tint pink when you sat beside him.
Youâd both spent countless hours each night, talking by the fire place or walking in the moonlight. Each night, heâd make sure you were comfortably tucked in before crashing on the couch, occasionally morphing into his wolf form and curling up by the door just to be extra safe.
Bucky wasnât sure why he was so drawn to you. What started as admiring you from afar was now making his heart beat faster. Skin warmer. He knew the feeling was far more intense than just friendship. He felt a bond. Something that pulled him to want you by his side forever.
For you to be his mate.
It was rare for werewolves to find a mate that wasn't a werewolf like himself but here was. In love with you. He never felt a pull like this towards someone else. Everything he felt was 10 times stronger than before, growing more and more with each day he spent with you.Â
*****
âI know itâs been a few days but...maybe you should stay a little longer?â Bucky knew there was truthfully no reason for you to stay any longer; the wounds had completely healed and you were perfectly fine.
Still...
"Are you sure?" You bit your lip, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his arms for the night as he stood by the bedside, handing you one of his sweaters.
"Of course, I-I don't want anything to happen to you, so just to be safe" He smiled softly, itching to just crawl into bed with you and snuggle.
âBucky, you-you donât have to sleep on the couchâ You sat up just as he was about to leave, your heart beating a little faster when he stopped and turned around. "You can sleep here"
âAre you sure?â
You nodded, moving over slightly and lifting the covers up so he could lay beside you. At the start of the night Bucky was as still as a statue, worried you'd find it odd if he got too close, making sure there was distance between you both before he closed his eyes.
Of course, even in his sleep he sought you. You sighed contently at the feeling of his arm wrapping around you waist, pulling you close to his chest, his face burying into your neck, a happy low rumble emitting from his chest at the way you felt in his arms. He nuzzled his face into your skin, keeping you flush against him the entire night, hoping the sun would ride just a little bit later.
Every night, your cuddles became a little more intimate. You'd start off at opposite ends of the bed, only to find yourself tangled in each other each morning. Hands would wander a little more each time with gentle touches and a few extra kisses.
****
"Just come cuddle" You giggled as he scooted over, giving up on trying to sleep at the other side of the bed. Bucky smiled, pulling you to lay on his chest, his hand slipping past your shirt, gently stroking your spine. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, loving the way your skin felt on his lips. He didn't want to stop, continuing to trail kisses down your face, holding you a little tighter, the need to have you completely growing stronger. His eyes locked with yours, nervously leaning down, smiling against your lips as you closed the gap between you both.
His hands carded through your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing your lips, slipping into your parted mouth. He couldn't help himself, rolling you both over so you were pinned under him, dominating the kiss till you both needed air. Your eyes grew wide feeling his length pressing against your tummy, hips rutting slightly, fighting himself from stuffing you full of him.
"Buckyy" You panted from under him, gripping onto his arms, spreading your legs further for him. The needy whine that fell from your lips made him growl, he could smell how aroused you were, his cock painfully hard in his sweats. "Need you"
âI-I donât want to hurt youâ He whispered, his mind conflicted over wanting you so badly but also worried his hurt you with his strength. He nearly whimpered feeling the warmth of your core pressed against him, your thighs squeezing the sides of his waist.
âYou wonât hurt me Buckyâ Your eyes were pleading with him, needing this just as much as he did, he only had so much self restraint.
âLet me taste you?â He crawled down, his fingers skimming around the waist band of the boxers he had given you to wear, pulling them down as you nodded. He threw his own shirt off before settling between your legs, spreading your pussy apart, his hunger for you growing at the way you glistened under the dimly lit room. "You smell so sweet, angel"
You felt shy under his intense gaze as he looked up at you while kissing the soft flesh of your thighs. Bucky nearly growled as soon as his tongue flicked across your clit, feeling the way it throbbed each time he licked you. His lips sealed around your sensitive nub, alternating between lapping up your arousal and toying with your clit, suckling and kissing you, moaning when he felt your hands tug at his hair.
"Grind on my face sweets" Bucky threw your legs over his shoulders, urging you to push his face down deeper, the greedy side of him wanting to suffocate between you legs. You squeaked when he guided your hand to pull at his roots, a feral look flashing in his eyes when you hesitantly pulled a little harder, his eyes rolling back.
"Just like that baby, I'll use my tongue all over this pretty pussy, just show me how" He groaned as you pushed his head down, your back bowing off the bed feeling his tongue slip inside you, drinking every drop you gave him.
"Bucky, need you-" Your body felt hot, pussy clenching and throbbing, aching for him to fill you. He kissed up your body, throwing the rest of your clothes off before lining himself up with your entrance, his breath fanning over your face.
"Sweetheart, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself" He stroked your forehead, his cock leaking against your pussy. "It's more than just- I can't explain it-
You smashed your lips against his, squeezing your legs around his waist tighter, cutting off his nervous rambling. "Please, I want you, want to feel you Bucky, all over you"
"M'right here angel, you have me" He let out a shuddered breath as he started to press into you, moaning against your neck once he was fully sheathed inside you. He moved slowly, rocking his hips while his nose tracing against the column of your neck, his hands moving to fist the sheets. He could feel them tear under his grip, your tight pussy and sweet scent awakening something primal.
âDoll...â He groaned in your ear, his cock swelling more with each thrust, âBaby, I-
He let out a desperate growl, his hands balled into fists, his corded back muscles tensed, holding back from pounding you into the mattress. You could feel his cock grow harder, stretching you more, the swollen tip rubbing against your sweet spot making you gush around him.
âWhat is itâ You whispered, your thumb caressing his scruffy cheek, your soft touch only making it more difficult for him to hold back.
âFuck babyâ It almost hurt him, desperately wanting you to be all his, his tongue licking and nipping your neck, biting his lip to keep from sinking his teeth in. âWant you to be mineâ
âI'm yours Buckyâ You carded your fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp, making him growl, the soft color of his eyes now an intense sapphire blue and glowing. Bucky gently nipped your neck, holding back how badly he wanted to claim you, mark you, the smooth canines of his teeth growing sharper the more you moaned for him.
"Y-you don't understand sweets, I want-I want you forever"
"You have me Bucky" You clenching around him, your moans broken as the band in your belly tightned more. Bucky grinded his hips down, desperate to be as deep inside you as possibly, the coiled hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, warmth spreading through your body. "I'm-I'm gonna-
"Cum for me angel, I need it, need it baby, cum for me please" He moaned with you, his hand flying to the headboard, the wood splintering and cracking under his grip. He started to chase his own high, speeding his thrust's up, his balls slapping your ass grunts growing deeper.
"M'gonna cum baby" He could hard speak, too consumed and overwhelmed by the way he felt inside you, his cock swelling and throbbing, spurts of precum already soaking your pussy.
"Cum Bucky!"
"You're mine" He panted, his forehead resting on yours, "Say it sweets, say you'll always be mine?"
"M'yours" You nodded, kissing his nose, your hands cupping his face, "All yours Bucky, make me yours"
"Oh FUCKK" Bucky moaned against your neck, his teeth grazing your soft skin, biting just enough to to mark you without hurting you, gently licking the area after while he continued to moan and whine, his orgasm unending. "All mine"
You both laid tangled in the sheets, going for a few more rounds until the sun came up. You shivered at the feeling of his hands trace over your skin, your whole body sensitive from how many times he had you cum all over his cock. His hands. His face. There was a feeling of security surrounding you as you laid on his chest, the faint mark on your neck tingling.
âWill you be my mate?â Bucky whispered shyly, blushing more at your giggle while you sat up slightly, your nose bumping against his.
"Even if I'm not a werewolf? " You teased while Bucky playfully rolled his eyes, nipping you again.
âOf course, how else will I protect you bunnyâ He let out a growl, cocking his eyebrow while you squealed, finding yourself flipped under him again. "You'll stay with me sweetheart?"
"Even if I can't change into a giant a fluffy puppy like you under a full moon?"
"Yes"
"Even if I can't hear Sam sneaking into the house for breakfast from 3 houses down"
"We'll work on that"
"Do I always have to rub your belly and feed you my peanut butter treats when you turn into a pouty little werewolf, pretending to be a big scary leader to everyone else"
"Yes and now that you know that secret, you have to stay" Bucky grinned, his hopeful eyes shining brighter when you cupping his face, kissing him deeply.
"I already told you, I'm all yours"
****
Imagine the utter joy the rest of the pack get from how soft Bucky is for you. They're so used to seeing him unmoving and broody but now theres flowers around his cabin and the blush is just part of his face now. Steve and Sam help move some of your things over to Bucky's, more than happy to have you around because now there's even more food for them to eat.
Nothing turns you on more than when he goes into protective mode. His eyes glow. His muscles tense. The growl that rumbles from deep in his chest makes your thighs squeeze together. He keeps you by his side, always touching you, his hands lingering on your waist, toying with your hair or playing with your fingers.
It's not often he fully transforms but when he does, its because someone got too close to you.
You can't help but giggle when you see him transform into his werewolf form because he's beautiful and scary, teeth barred out, claws flexed out, but only you know how adorably cuddly he is when he's just alone with you. He nudges his head against your hand, whining for you to give him attention, he's three times your size but his tail swishes about like a playfully puppy.
Theres no doubt you're the best thing thats ever happened to him.
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warnings: honestly kind tame, pretty much just doggy and light anal, no use of y/n, fem! reader MDNI 18+
word count: 500
Bucky canât help it when he has you like this.
On your knees, pushing back to meet him at every thrust, whining and telling him youâre too full. He can feel it too, youâre squeezing him like a vice and thatâs after he spent almost forty-five minutes stretching you out. If he put a hand on your pelvis right now he could feel himself inside you, heâs sure of it. But he has your pretty, pretty ass right in front of him and heâd much rather have his hands there.
He palms the soft tissue, massaging it as he watches it bounce, rocking with the ricochet of every thrust. He spreads your cheeks apart with his hands, meaning to get a better view of the way your greedy cunt swallows him up, instead something else catches his eye.
Pretty, puckering, and oh so empty.
He canât help but touch it, just his thumb ghosting over the puckered hole. Youâre so responsive even there, twitching against his finger. He presses the pad of his thumb against it, a little harder this time and you gasp.
âBucky?â You ask, voice breathy and shaking. âWhatâre you doing back there?â
His thrusts havenât slowed despite his fascination.
Bucky presses again, still not breaking the seal but applying enough pressure that the skin of your ass starts to swallow him, his thumb almost disappearing as your cheeks close around it.
âWas winking at me.â He says, like it makes any fucking sense.
You whimper, pushing back against him. âWhat?â Your hole twitches again, the feeling of his finger, of anything is so foreign. It feels taboo and unnatural. It makes your stomach twist.
âCan I play with her?â He asks, his voice is uneven, filled with nothing but pure curiosity. âJust the thumb.â
You choke, a broken, almost desperate sound falling from your throat. Youâre caught off guard by just how badly you want it.
âGentle?â You ask, or more accurately, beg.
You canât see him, but Bucky nods fiercely. âGonna be so nice to her..â He promises.
You moan a broken âyesâ and Bucky canât help but sigh with relief.
He swipes his thumb through your folds, gathering as much of your wetness as possible. He plans to starts with just the tip, up to the knuckle but then you make the sweetest, breathiest little noise and he canât help but push the whole digit in.
You gasp, back arching âFuck.â You pant.
Bucky isnât much better, letting out a low groan at the way you open up for him. Heâs so lost in it, in the tightness of your asshole, in the possessiveness of knowing heâs the only one youâve let in like this.
Then he feels it, the slow push and pull of himself inside your cunt. The pressure of his own cock pushing back against him has him seeing doubles, a single thought ringing over and over again in his head.
Full of me.
Pinktober Masterlist
Main Masterlist
thanks for reading!!! love you all honey bunches and oats!!!! And yes thatâs a childish gambino reference it IS the serious
a/n:Â this one started back in the summer (if you remember the polls, wink wink). it just snowballed so quickly, one of those where some horny entity possessed my body and typed out this entire thing in record time, whoops
summary:Â "youâre fucking mine till I break your hymen."
warnings: biker!bucky barnes x innocent!reader, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, manipulation, baby trapping, tattooed!bucky, bucky is the leader of the biker gang, age gap (bucky is in his 40's, y/n is 20, in uni, home on summer break), alcohol consumption, smoking, kissing, public sex, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, loss of virginity, blood, breed kink, corruption kink, sir kink, dirty talk, size kink, belly bulge, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, cock warming, sex toys, bondage, impact play, pain kink, choking, crying, dacryphilia, thighjob, pussyjob, oral, spit kink, pussy inspection, fingering, anal, penetrative sex, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, bucky is just horrible and filthy and you're welcome sluts, (also i was very tired when i edited this, so i'm sorry for any mistakes i missed)
word count: 8782
⌠gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here âœ
masterlist | join my taglist  | kinktober 2025
âHi, excuse me. I need to talk to someone,â you spoke to the blonde mechanic who stood sloped over an engine, âa Mr. Barnes?â
Twisting to cast you a glance, he only murmured, âI think you might be in the wrong place, darling,â before his eyes reunited with the car before him, letting his grease-covered hands continue to tinker away.
âOh no, Iâm in the right place, Iâm sure of it,â you stood your ground, âso, is he around?â
With a low exhale, the gruff-looking man straightened up before squinting down at you, âwell, what does a girl like you got to talk to him about?â
âSomething,â you shifted your weight as you uttered cryptically, âsomething important.â
âOh, alright⊠well, unfortunately, you just missed him,â he lied, though directly in the small office behind him, a gruff looking man peered through slivers of the blinds that covered the interior window, as a mechanic beside him leaned down to whisper in his ear, âso if you donât have any other business here, a bike or a car that needs fixing, thenââ
âSteve!â the dark-haired man in the office suddenly boomed through the open door, âitâs alright, let her in.â
Stepping aside, the blonde mechanic held out an arm in the direction of the room, shepherding you inside. The fella who had been relaying everything to the boss slipped past as you entered, before he shut the door behind you.
And as the tatted-up man behind the desk finally glanced up to look at you, the tone of your voice trembled slightly as you then spoke, ââŠare you Mr. Barnes?â
Chuckling lightly at your formality, âMr.â, well, yeah. Iâm Bucky,â he eyed you a moment, making you shift timidly under the brashness of his stare, âyou wanted to speak to me? No offence, sweetheart, but you donât look like the type to jump on a bike, but I mean, if thatâs why youâre here, Iâve got a few in the back that could be yours for the right price.â
âOh, thatâs not why Iâm here,â you shook your head.
âA car then?â
âNo, no, this is aboutââŠâ you tilted your head, âwell⊠itâs about Thomas.â
Sitting back a bit more in his seat, Bucky puffed out, âwell, fuck me. I didnât know he had a wife.âÂ
âWhat? No!â you swiftly screeched, eyes growing huge at his assumption, âIâm his sister.â
âAhâŠâ the older man breathed as he once again let his eyes wander, âso youâre the famous little sister⊠I thought you were away at some fancy university.â
âEver heard of a little thing called summer break?â you scoffed, though instantly regretted the attitude as it surely wouldnât help your case.
But thankfully, your comment only made the intimidating man chuckle, âokay, uh, so, why the urge to come chat to me instead of going off to the beach with your friends or something?â
After you took a second to gather up the courage, you then stated, âI donât want him coming around here anymore. You canât have him.â
Unfazed, the man behind the desk muttered, âand why not, if I might ask?â
âYou know why,â you shifted slightly, your eyes narrowing in Buckyâs direction.
âAnd just what are you implying here?â he leaned forward, planting his inked and burly forearms on the table between you both, âI simply gave him a job as a perfectly respectable mechanic.â
âYou know damn well thatâs not what you did⊠I know youâre not just the boss of some auto shopâŠâ you uttered quietly, ââŠa year ago, he had a bright future ahead of him, a good job lined up, a good head on his shoulders, and then you came into the picture and poisoned him.â
âPoisoned him, huh? Thatâs cuteâŠâ he chuckled chillingly at your accusation, âheâs a free man, sweetheart. He can do whatever he wants to do. If he wants to ride a bike, then heâll ride a fucking bike.â
âYou know damn well thatâs not all that you and your kind does,â you snapped, your fist clenching into a fist nearly hard enough for your nails to break the skin.
âAnd just what were you thinking I was supposed to do about it, huh?â
âI know heâs not a full-fledged member yet of your gang.â
But that phrasing finally made a crack in his charismatic façade, âdonât call it a gang, itâs a motorcycle club.â
âI know heâs not a full-fledged member of your mob yet,â you blindly repeated heatedly, âa prospect, or whatever you call it. You can still kick him out without any fuss,â you stated before your voice then shrunk once more, cracking under the pressure as you went on, âplease, justâ⊠Iâm scared of whatâll happen, who he will become if he doesnât quit now. Iâve already lost both of my parents, I canât lose him too.â
For a moment, Bucky simply sat back in his chair and stared at you. But then, when his eyes finally settled, his mind had cooked up a solution.
ââŠyou know, one of the beauties of living in a small town like this is that everyoneâs business spreads like wildfire⊠you just canât help what you hear through the grapevineâŠâ he slowly told you, âletâs see⊠rocky childhood, your brother basically raised you, yet somehow you still managed to walk the straight and narrow, become the valedictorian of your class in high school, get a scholarship to some college that otherwise would have never even looked twice at a girl like you from a shithole of a town like this⊠history major, right?â you then promptly nodded, utterly stunned by all of the details the criminal knew about you, âyeah⊠a real good girl, just as I suspected⊠but just how good are you really?â
âWhat?â your brows only knit together further, âif youâre trying to make me take his place, Iââ
âJesus fuck, calm down, kid,â Bucky scoffed, âIâm not putting a smoking gun in your hand. Iâm just trying to get to know you.â
âIâ, uhâŠâ a shiver ran down your spine, âsir, Iâm just here to help my brother.â
âAnd how far would you go to do so?â
âWellââŠâ you thought about it for a second, âwhat do you want? Money? I donât have much, but I could try and scrounge up somethingââ
âNo, Iâm not interested in your money,â his eyes then dipped.
âThen what do you want?â you pleaded, trying to ignore his bold gaze, âIâll do pretty much anything, as long as itâs legal.â
âAre you still a virgin?â he then casually asked you, completely out of the blue.
âExcuse me?â your vision promptly widened.
âI mean, you sure fucking squirm like one,â he smirked, continuing to stare.
âI-I donât see how thatâs any of your business,â you crossed your arms, half in an attempt at covering yourself up more.
âSo you are, alright,â he concluded from your dismissiveness, âwell, then I do think thereâs a way here for us to strike a deal.â
âIââŠâ you blinked hard, âIâm sorry, what does my romantic life have to do with that?â
âOh, you really are innocent, arenât you?â he then laughed, âhow old did you say you were again?â
âI didnât,â you shifted before you then told him, âIâm twenty.â
âTwentyâŠâ he echoed, tasting it on his tongue as if heâd just gone down on you, âdamnâŠâ
âHow old are you?â you shrugged, not understanding how this basic information had anything to do with how you were gonna help your brother.
âWell, over double your ageâŠâ he cocked his head and you caught sight of some of the grey that dusted his beard.
âOkayâŠâ you breathed, blinking back at him with furrowed brows, âIâm sorry, Iâm a bit lost. Are you gonna help me out or not? Are you gonna kick Thomas out?â
âI am,â he pursed his lips.
âReally?â a relieved gasp swiftly filled your lungs.
âYeah,â he nodded, averting his gaze before he then filled you in on the rest of the proposition, âthat is if you let me pop your cherry.â
Utterly stunned, the glints of celebration promptly vanished from your face, ây-you want toââ
âBe the first person to fuck that sweet pussy of yours,â he stated matter-of-factly.
âI-IââŠâ you stammered a moment before stating in a firm tone, âno,â glaring back at him as if the biker had just grown a second head.
âYou sure?â his tone didnât waver, as if your apprehension didnât faze him one bit, âI thought you were desperate to get your dear brother to turn his life back around, but I guess if itâs really not that important to you, then maybe I could move his final initiation test upââ
âNo, wait!â you cried out, nearly scurrying over the table right then and there, âdonât! IââŠâ
Tilting his head, the tinge of repulsion that flickered across your features only egged him on, âyes?â
âFuck, I canât believe Iâm actually agreeing to thisâŠâ you murmured to yourself before huffing, âfine, Iâll do it. If it means youâll leave my brother alone, then alright.â
âGreat,â the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk that made your stomach churn, âswing around Nickâs bar tonight. Have a drink with me.â
âHere,â Bucky handed you a drink, tearing your wide eyes away from the seedy biker bar you now found yourself in.
âThanksâŠâ you stared down at the amber liquid inside. Raising the stout glass up to your lips, you then naively took a sip that was way too big, causing you to instantly cough as it burned down your throat.
Peering over at you as you lowered the glass again, the biker let out a cruel chuckle, âdonât tell me youâve never had a drink before either.â
âNo, I have,â you shot back defensively, your throat still on fire, âjust not one this strong.â
âHm,â he twisted slightly in his seat to face you more, âwell, itâs your choice. Itâll help your nerves, but then again, I donât mind if youâre shaking so much that Iâll have to wrestle you,â he stated calmly, making you go bug-eyed and swiftly choose to pick up your drink once more.
It didnât take very long at all for you to get drunk, although it probably helped that each time you finished off your glass, someone would swoop in and refill it before you could protest.
The place was buzzing around you with rough-looking individuals, all of their backs adorned with patches, though you were too scared to meet any of their eyes. A few even tried to walk up and shoot their shot with you, though as you shrivelled up in hopes of turning invisible before them, the bikers would catch Buckyâs eye and hastily turn on their heel again.Â
When your wandering eyes eventually spotted the dingy restroom in the corner of the bar, you figured that it might be able to grant you enough of a break to catch your breath and let you muster up the courage for what came next.
âHey, Iâll be right back,â you murmured, spotting out of the corner of your eye as he offered you a slight nod of approval, before you then jumped off the barstool, only to discover on your short trek across the room just how dizzy the alcohol had now rendered you.
The lavatory was grimy and mucked up with layers of old posters and flies on the walls, but it still turned out to be a safe enough space for you to freak out a little bit in.
Though once youâd dried your tears and gathered yourself once more, someone was standing directly on the other side of the door as you began to creak it open.
And before you could even react, Bucky had pushed his way inside, shoving you back in as well before you could slip past, and his inked fingers swiftly locked the door behind him.
âMr. Barnes, what are youâ, mmhpfâ,â your words were promptly muffled as the biker suddenly grabbed your face and held it tight as he pressed his lips to your own. A yelp vibrated against his mouth as you willed your trembling hands not to shove him away, âI thoughtâ, you wantedâ,â you squeaked in between stolen kisses, âto goâ, somewhereâ, elseââ
âAnd I thought you wanted to get this over with,â he muttered, tilting back a moment to gaze down into your wide eyes, âdonât you?â
âWellâŠâ you then just bashfully nodded as you couldnât get yourself to actually say it out loud, ââŠbut Iâ, Iâm sorry⊠could we maybe just slow down a little bit?âÂ
âSlow down?â he echoed, as if youâre speaking some alien language.
âYeah, I justââŠâ you averted your gaze, ââŠI donât really know what to doâŠâ
âReally?â he raised a brow before you offered a nod, âwell, alright. Help me out here for a second. Tell me, how much exactly have you done before?â
âIâ⊠nothingâŠâ you timidly shared.
âNothing? Not even fooled around with a boyfriend?â
âIâve never had a boyfriend, so noâŠâ you nearly whispered, before then catching his eye and letting out a desperate cry, âIâm sorry, please, I can still do it, you just gotta guide me a bit! Please donât back out of the deal!â
âOh, no, honey, Iâm not,â his stare traced your helpless expression as a few of his knuckles drifted up to trace the edges of it, âIâm very much notâŠâ
âOh, good!â you gasped, before swiftly regretting how enthusiastic it had sounded, âI mean, notâ, justâ, you know what I meanâŠâ
Letting you squirm under his gaze a moment longer, he then uttered in a strange tone, almost as if youâd given him the most wicked of ideas, âyou wanna go slow? We can go slow⊠I think I can live with that arrangement,â a wolfish grin bloomed upon his gruff face, âso why donât you start by kissing me again?â
Nervously, heart hammering in your chest, you raised yourself up onto your tiptoes and planted a swift peck upon his lips.
âHmmâŠâ he hummed, before his pointer finger then drifted up into the space between you to do a come-hither motion, âyou can do better than that, kiddoâŠâ he lowered himself down a tad to be closer to your height.
When you then kissed him once more, one of his palms slid up to the back of your head just as you were about to break it, keeping you from fleeing as he then deepened the kiss.
As he began to make out with you, his tongue greedily flickering out to taste your own, your body initially locked up, though soon, as he selfishly kept it going, you horrifyingly felt yourself begin to relax into it.
Reminding yourself that it would all be over before you knew it, you tried your best to calm yourself, let go and try to find a way to enjoy it.
As his feet soon shuffled against the dirty floors, you bumped against the sink and squeaked against his devilish tongue.
His hands greedily began to wander down your body, his bold and scorching touch made ripples and waves in the short dress that you wore. At first, the touch made you draw in a sharp breath, but then as his lips strayed from your own and began to dance down the length of your neck, smothering the sensitive skin in sloppy pecks, your brows promptly knitted together in confusion as the way his fingers traced down your frame, grabbing your ass before then sweeping up to grope your tits, actually felt good.
As the older manâs broad hands then harshly coasted down to your bottom once again, he scooped you up to sit on the edge of the sink, making you let out a startled gasp at the sudden and unexpected move, although that only made the biker chuckle in return.
Now that his ravenous lips were no longer glued to your skin, his dark eyes drifted down to ogle the short hem of your dress before he then slowly hiked it further up to reveal your underwear below, which, to your horror, was completely and utterly soaked, making the poor cotton nearly translucent as it clung to your core.
âFuckâŠâ he let out an exhale as he slowly sank down to crouch before you. Getting a bit too close for your comfort, you tried to shift and close your thighs more, but his rough palms just shot out to catch each of your knees, âa-ah,â he didnât even raise his gaze as he ordered, âkeep them spread.â
âMhm,â you hesitantly hummed as you blinked down at him between your legs.
âGood girl,â one of his hands then slid all the way up your inner thigh till it met the edge of your panties. Gasping at the contact, you then dared to peep down as he let his fingertips ghost over your covered core and tickle you, âso sensitiveâŠâ he noticed your body trembling at his touch and the way your brows knit together above your wild eyes, âwhat, are you scared, sweetheart? Thatâs okay, you can be scared⊠I know, youâve probably been told all of your life that no one is supposed to touch your pretty princess parts, especially not someone like me, so itâs alright to be scared.â
Leaning in, he then pressed a kiss upon your covered clit, already puffy and throbbing beneath the drenched cotton.
âOh my godâŠâ he groaned as your scent tempted him even closer, his nose tickling you as he inhaled deeply, âI gotta get these off,â he hazily then grunted before ripping your panties off, down your legs and swiftly tossed them over his broad leather jacket-clad shoulder to the dark corner of the dirty bathroom.
He immediately let his fingers find your folds, first pinching your pussylips teasingly together, before he spread you apart for his marvelling stare.
âLook at thatâŠâ he inspected your untouched hole, grinning at the way you already cried out for him, âoh fuckâŠâ
And without any further ado, the biker dove straight in, his calloused grasp holding you steady as he began to eat you out.
When his famished mouth soon sucked down on your clit, an uncontrollable moan tumbled out past your lips, one that you wished and hoped he didnât notice, though he promptly groaned against your cunt, âyeah, you like that?â he glanced up at you as he smirked against your pussy.
âY-yeah, it actually feels goodâŠâ you hesitantly admitted, forcing yourself to let go and give in to it since it would only be this one time, ââŠreally goodâŠâ
Sloppily flicking down to taste your entrance, he soon began to fuck you with his wicked tongue, though only long enough to make you gasp before he then withdrew and licked his way back up your slit, only to sweep back down to plug you up, settling into the teasing pattern till a tingling knot began to form in the pit of your belly.
And even though you cried out at the high that soon crashed into you, your thighs clamping shut around his skull, he still didnât cease as his mouth kept on devouring you whole, his nose all the while bumping your puffy pearl, âstop, stop!â you tried to push the biker away, âno more, itâs too much!â
âYeah, I know,â he uttered condescendingly as he rose back up, your juices staining his salt and pepper beard, âstop complaining,â he then undid his trousers, his eyes still glued to your cunt as he got out his cock. As he jerked it slowly a couple of times before you, your lips parted in a silent gasp at his size, although it was when he swiftly inched in closer that your eyes truly grew in horror. Letting a dollop of spit drop from his mouth, first to your inner thighs, before it cascaded down to glisten up your pussy even more, he then tapped the heft weight of himself crudely against your throbbing and tender clit, making you jolt atop the sink, before he then momentarily rested his length down against your pussy, smirking fiendishly at just how deep his cock would burry itself in your body, âthis isnât about you. Your pleasure is frankly irrelevant in our deal,â he grunted as he soon drew your thighs together to envelop his dick and let him fuck them, âall you gotta do is spread your little legs and let me deflower you however the fuck I want.â
Soon the thighjob deteriorated, the leaking tip of him pressing and bumping rudely against your overly sensitive clit each time he thrust his hips forward, so it didnât take too long before his bruising grip let go of your legs and he instead began to dedicate all of his attention to your cunt. With a few sharp taps of his hard length against the glistening softness of your puffy pussy, your frame jerked so sharply that your thighs couldnât help but shakily part for him.
Trailing the bulbous tip through your wetness, his pearly precum slicked up your pussy to the dripping degree that mortifying, sloppy sounds echoed through the small bathroom each time heâd callously smear his cock against your quivering entrance and through your folds.
Though when you found the courage to finally glance down and watch as the biker repeatedly parted your petals around his fat girth, you nearly tried to escape from under him as you noticed, âo-oh my god, wait, whereâs the condom?â
Although, the older man only rolled his eyes and sighed as if you were an annoying little child, here to spoil all of his fun, âoh my godâŠâ
âB-but Iâm not on the pill or anything,â you squirmed as he continued to rub his hardness against your cunt, ây-you canâtââ
âRelax, Iâll just pull out,â he huffed, âthis just feels so much better, trust meâŠâ
As he kept on going, rutting against your softness like an animal in heat, you then curiously let your hand wander down your frame till your fingertips brushed against his slick dick, crudely gliding against your pussy, your stare intense as you blinked down at it.
And as you were in uncharted waters, why he hadnât stuffed it inside yet remained a mystery, as your clenching hole was already winking and making out with his fat tip. Perhaps he was just waiting for you to pop it in yourself, seeing as it was your very first time.
Although, when your touch tried to direct his cock down to sink inside your warmth, Buckyâs palm appeared from out of nowhere and smacked your fingers away, âhey! Behave! Keep your hands to your fucking self! You donât get to control this, Iâm the one who decides how this goes down, and you sure as fuck arenât allowed to touch anything without my permission, you got that?â
Blinking up at him with wide eyes, your voice quivered, ây-yes, sir.â
âFucking bratâŠâ he mumbled before his efforts then grew rougher.
Soon he had you cumming once again, your body jerking harshly at the overwhelming high and your eyes squeezing shut, rendering you to nearly miss as he soon shot his load all over your pussy and belly, painting your skin white for you to discover as you woke back up from your haze.
âIââŠâ your dizzy vision narrowed to a squint as you peered down at the mess heâd made, ââŠwas that it?â
âOh wow,â he swiftly huffed as he met your confused gaze, âno, please, tell me how you really feel.â
âNo, Iâm sorry, I just thought you were gonna put it insideâŠâ
âI changed my mind, this isnât how I wanna do it,â a smirk twitched at his lips as he casually tugged his dick away.
âWhat?â
âCome again tomorrow,â he met your eye once more, âyou can try again.â
âAnd just how do you know Iâll come again?â you pushed your skirt back down to somewhat cover yourself.
âYou will,â he uttered with a level of cockiness you didnât even think was possible.
âNo, I wonât,â you shifted to sit up straight as you continued to balance on the edge of the sink, âI let you touch me, I did my part of the deal, now itâs your turn.â
âThe deal was to let me pop your cherry, however, I may wish,â he scoffed, âyou, little miss virgin, still havenât had a cock split that pussy open yet. And donât fucking come at me with your generationâs ideas about how complex and broad the term of virginity actually is, fuck that shit. Youâre fucking mine till I break your hymen,â he growled, sending shivers down your spine, âmine toâ, how did you put it? Take it slow with?â his tongue briefly flickered out to wet his lips as it remembered moments earlier, how it had dove inside of you and felt you clamber around it.
âY-you canât be serious,â you gasped.
âDo I not fucking look serious?â he let your eyes dart across his stern features, âhoney, if you donât do as I say and let me do this exactly how I wanna do it, then Iâll just keep your brother on, and I wonât fucking hesitate to make the rest of his life short and like hell.â
âI-Iâm sorry! How should I have known that?â
âBecause I fucking told you,â Buckyâs inked palm came down upon your ass once more. His black leather belt constricted your wrists at the small of your back as he held you balanced over his lap. Your panties hanging down around your ankles, the cotton still stained from your morning activities, âI said you werenât allowed to touch anything without my permission, that includes this little pussy of yours.â
The people in the mechanic shop still buzzed around on the other side of the officeâs thin walls, making you nervous about someone potentially wandering in to see your whole world on display.
Briefly pausing his spanks to inspect your pussy, he swiftly groaned, âfucking slutâŠâ he spread you apart crudely, âyou thought you could sneak this past me and I wouldnât notice?â he then smacked his palm against your core, his fingertips colliding harshly with your throbbing clit and making your hole clench around nothing, âthat you could get this little cunt off and just think that I wouldnât see how soaked your panties still are?â he kept on whacking, âeven your fucking fingers still smell of pussy.â
âIâm s-sorry,â a murmured moan slipped through your fog as you felt your toes curl in the inevitable end that crept nearer with every slap he dealt to your aching cunt.
But unfortunately, the biker noticed and swiftly said, âare you really about to fucking cum right now?â
âMhm,â you hummed back and dug your nails into his thick thigh. However, when he then stopped his hand mid-air, denying you of the bliss, you promptly twisted to glance up at him with your hazy eyes, âw-waitââ
âOne crucial lesson that you clearly need to get beaten into that young brain of yours,â he yanked his belt from your bound wrists and then bent it in half as he uttered, âis that bad girls donât get to fucking cum,â before he began to crack the leather down upon your already sore bottom, truly marking it up with bruises.
âAh!â you cried out as the sharp stings.
âLet me hear,â he croaked as he kept on whipping your butt.
âB-bad girlsââ
âThey what?â
âD-donât get to cumââ
âThatâs right,â he emphasised his words with the belt in his hand, âdonât even try and pull that stunt again. Thatâs two fucking strikes already⊠the fuck am I gonna do with youâŠâ
Bucky had you balanced on a short tower of wide beer cases in the storage room of Nickâs bar, as he had made you hold back your legs to crack you mortifyingly open for him.
âThere we go,â he murmured when, after an entire hour of edging and teasing you, the butt plug in his grasp finally sank into your little hole, âyou did it,â his thumb rubbed the flared base of the metal toy.
You still didnât understand his new obsession with your ass lately, moving entirely away from your virgin pussy to play with your other untouched hole, teasing it and stretching it out at any chance that he got. It was almost like heâd forgotten that it was your cunt that he was supposed to fuck to get this whole ordeal over with.
âC-can I come now?â you trembled as you peered down at him with hooded eyes, his face still lingering near your aching core, âI did it, I let you put that thingy in me, so can I? Please, sir?â
âHow sweet of you to ask,â he chuckled lightly, âbut no.â
âNo?â you pouted as your throbbing cunt continued to drip before his very eyes.
âNo, we donât have time for that shit,â he straightened back up, âwe gotta head out.â
âWhat? Where?â
âThought it was about time you came riding with us,â you watched as he wiped off his soaked fingers on his jacket.
âWhy? I donât know how to.â
âWell, you donât need to know in order to sit with me on my bike,â he stated, âcome on, we all leave in less than five.â
âWhat, now?â your eyes grew even wider.
âYeah, now,â he then grabbed your frame and hauled you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
âAh! Wait! B-Bucky!â you yelped as he kicked the door to the back room open again, âyou didnât take the toy out!â you tried to reach back to do it yourself, but he promptly smacked your fingers away, âand my underwearâ, I donâtââ
âQuit your whining, youâll survive without your panties for a bit,â he grumbled as he walked out through the bar, making you blush as he past numerous bikers, flashing everyone your parts as your short dress rid up so far that it no longer covered anything, âand the plug stays right there, you got that? Donât you dare so much as touch it after the work I just put in to finally fit it inside of you,â he smacked your ass, âyou got that?â
âY-yes, sir,â you murmured as he exited the bar and neared the clustered motorbikes all lined up out front. At the very least, you could find a drop of solace in the fact that your brother didnât seem to be present today.
âGood,â he then sat you down on the ground, directly next to his own shiny bike, ânow, hop on.â
Glancing nervously to the intimidating motorcycle, you then uttered, ââŠwhat about a helmet?â
But instead, he just repeated more firmly this time, âhop on.â
The gang of bikers, all on their vehicles, were so loud that you nearly couldnât hear yourself think. It was almost like you were trapped in the centre of a swarm of bees.
Slotted behind the leader on the long leather seat of his motorcycle, your arms were tightly tangled around his waist as you watched the landscape zoom by around you.
The roar of the engine beneath you was so strong that the vibrations ended up teasing you, making your bare and drippy cunt, beneath your tiny dress that flowed in the wind, leak even more and stain the seat below with your desperation. Each agonising hum of the bike even made your little ass clench around the plug, whimpers slipping from your lips when you lost the battle and couldnât ignore it any longer.
But then, suddenly on the ride, Bucky strayed and took a detour from where the rest of the group was headed, and though you tried to ask him about it, the biker didnât bother offering you the satisfaction.
When he finally rolled to a stop, youâd reached an outlook point at the top of a hill, without a single other person in sight.
Plucking you off of the bike once he had dismounted as well, he didnât waver before then manhandling you and bending you over the bike like a ragdoll in his grasp.
âBuckyâ, a-ah!â you squealed as he then suddenly took the steely plug out.
âShhâŠâ he smacked your ass in return before stuffing the slick toy into his pocket.
Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched as he freed his fat cock, âw-what are you doing?â
âWhat does it fucking look like Iâm doing?â he crudely tapped his bulbous tip against your asshole, briefly flicking against both it, as well as straying further south to gather up some one the cream that was leaking out of your cunt, using your juices as lube to slicken up his dick, âfinally filling up your little hole,â he pointed out plainly before doing just that.
âAh!â you cried out as he sank just the tip in, âbu-but, not there!â you then felt as he withdrew once more, only to instantly dip back in and make you gasp, âthatâs the wrongâ, youâre supposed toââ
âOh, I know, honey, I knowâŠâ he cooed condescendingly, âbut why put a stop to our fun already when I can just fuck your ass instead?â
As he buried himself another inch, you cried out at the aching stretch, seeing as even though the biker had teased you profusely, didnât mean that your ass was ready to be split open in such a manner in order to take his girth.
âFuck, youâre so tinyâŠâ he groaned from behind you as he gazed down at your trembling frame beneath him, âtight little virgin ass just doesnât wanna let me in, huh?â his touch drifted down to trace the tight ring of your hole around his cock, struggling to open up for him, âis this princess too high and mighty to take such a big, mean biker dick?â
âP-pleaseâ,â you choked on a sob as your nails dug into the motorcycleâs seat below you.
âPlease, what? Do you not like it, huh? Does it hurt?â he mocked before you offered him a shaky nod, âhow about this, does this hurt?â he then suddenly snapped his hips with such ferocity that his heavy balls tapped against your neglected pussy as he buried himself inside of you completely, âjust you waitâŠâ he moaned as your little hole choked his cock, âby the time that Iâm done with you, youâll be the most perfect little anal whoreâŠâ
As you felt his palms scoop below you to rip down your neckline and spill out your tits for his touch to play with, your eyes flickered down as well, although it was something other than his rough hands that caused your vision to widen.
As one of his hands crumbled your short dress, gathering the fabric in his calloused grasp, you spotted the prominent bulge that appeared in your lower stomach, the jarring imprint shifting to the rhythm of his ruthless pace.
There was no way you would be able to cum from simply the sensation of him fucking your ass, but it did manage to keep you agonisingly close to the edge, frying your brain completely as you dizzily blinked down at how your pussy defencelessly drooled about it, begging for attention.
âShit, you feel so good, babyâŠâ his wide palm cracked down against the curve of your ass, âmaybe I should just keep fucking you like this and never stretch out that pretty little cunt of yoursâŠâ he considered with a fiendishly smirk upon his lip, âkeep you pure⊠only fuck your ass so that I can keep you foreverâŠâ
When he soon filled up your poor ass with his hot load and he finally pulled back out, he instead popped the plug back in, before you could even catch your breath, keeping his cum stuffed inside of you.
Sitting next to the leader of the biker gang in a booth at the bar, Bucky didnât offer you even one single glance as he spoke with his comrades and lit up yet another cigarette.
Although, that wasnât all he was doing that night, as below the table, his devious hand set some other plans into motion.
With his fingers buried so far up your skirt that all you could do was sit there and concentrate on breathing, all of the bustling voices around you flying over your foggy head, it didnât take long before the older man just pulled you into his lap.
Bucky simply carried on his conversations as normal, not caring one bit if other folks thought that you were just a pretty girl merely sitting on him, or if they knew what he was actually doing, that he was in fact making you warm his cock, on his selfish detour of a mission to stretch out your ass.
Maybe the dazed look on your face gave it away, or perhaps the way that his palm, that rested on your core to keep you steady and keep you in his lap, how it occasionally offered your wet pussy a slap loud enough to echo out through the entire bar. But even so, no one seemed to care, as it was only your heated cheeks that acknowledged the embarrassment.
But eventually, when he had downed his drink, he dragged your cockdrunk being out of the establishment, through the back and into the alley behind the bar. For a moment, you thought that he was gonna take you home to his own place, somewhere that you had practically begun to live in yourself, but instead of storming towards his bike, he didnât get further than that passageway as he instead shoved you up against the rough brick wall and kissed you.
Spinning you around so that your front collided with the wall, he then stuffed your ass once again, a strange sensation that you had begun to get used to, though still wasnât too fond of. But even so, you had still learned by now that complaining was of no use and would only egg the criminal on further, so if you wanted a shot at being able to still walk afterwards, then youâd learned to simply keep your mouth shut.
Smacking your puffy pussy once again, his grunts melted against your ear as you felt two of his fingertips sinking into your cunt, just barely slipping in at all, only hooking them to keep you in place as he railed your butt.
And though you tried not to orgasm, as the biker had repeatedly told you for the entirety of the night that you werenât allowed such privileges, when the root of his rough palm grinded down against your throbbing clit, you were so edged that you helplessly squirted all over his palm.
Pulling out, he promptly growled, âthe fuck did I tell you?â as he slapped your cheek with the hand that was still soaked from your cunt.
âI-Iâm sorry, I was trying, I swearââ
âWhatâll it take for you to get that this isnât about you?â he spun you around to face him once more, âyouâre not supposed to like it, youâre supposed to be a good little slut and make me feel good, you got it? Focus on me, not what that pussy wants. Sheâs a dumb little virgin anyways, doesnât know what she really wants, so just shut up and take it,â your brows knit together at the sensitivity as he then reached down to drag his throbbing cock through your dripping folds, âyou begged for it,â gathering your juices on his way to fill your ass back up, âbegged for me to let your dear brother go. You got yourself into this mess, so be a good little fuck toy and just do as I sayâŠâ
ââŠbeen shut down since the sixties, even since people caught wind of all of the nefarious things the headmasters let slide for generations,â Bucky uttered as you walked by his side down one of the long and dusty hallways of the abandoned boarding school that he had wanted to show you.
Though the biker had claimed that the reason for dragging you there was purely because he thought youâd love the local lore, try as he might to make it seem that way, in reality, it was all just a ruse.
âHow do you know about all of this?â you asked as you slowed your step to peek inside of other rooms you passed.
âWell,â he tilted his head as he then shared, âbelieve it or not, once upon a time, I was also a history major.â
âReally?â you whipped your head around to look at the older man, âyou went to college?â
âYeah,â he shrugged as you followed his stride, âor well, for a few months,â he added, âI loved every second of it thoughâŠâ
âThen why did you drop out?â you blinked back at him.
âI didnât drop out,â he met your eye, as if the truth was too obvious to even point out, âI was locked up.â
âOh,â your puzzled expression promptly dropped, âohâŠâ
Slipping out of the corridor, the pair of you then entered a grand room that a rusty plaque by the door stated was the old headmasterâs office. The glass was cracked in the huge bay window that stood behind the dust-cloaked mahogany desk in the middle of the room.
Your slow steps caused the dirty floorboards below to creak and groan as you let your eyes dance around the spines of the numerous books that still littered the dark bookcases.
Curving around the desk, you then cracked open the large ledger, that lied hidden among the other knick-knacks, and began to skim the list of names, presumably of the children who had lived here.
âThis is wildâŠâ you couldnât help but whisper as you let a finger ghost down the page.
âYeahâŠâ Buckyâs voice tickled your ear as he crept up behind you, âjust imagine if youâd been alive back then⊠I mean, this is where youâd have ended upâŠâ he stated before letting his lips dip down and kiss your neck as you kept on reading, âand being the troublemaker I know you to be, youâd probably have ended up in here all of the timeâŠâ he smirked against your skin before you felt his palm smack your ass, âgetting fucking reprimanded, probably getting on everyoneâs nerve enough for them to just drop you off at the local whorehouse to get you out of their hairâŠâ
Fingers coasting up your front, the older man then caught your jaw and twisted it enough for him to catch your lips. Turning you around to face him completely, the kiss then swiftly grew sloppy as he drew you closer.
Soon, one of his arms extended behind you to carelessly clear the desk, sweeping every item to the ground, before he then scooped you up to sit on the edge. Â
The biker had gotten into a habit at this point of not letting you wear any panties, in addition to preferring things like skirts and dresses that granted him easy access. Today had been one of those days, rendering the mild breeze that seeped through the cracked windows flowed in and kissed your cunt directly, sending shivers down your spine as the older man spread your thighs to slot himself in between them.
âGive me your hands,â he soon murmured against the kiss, though when you then held them out in the sliver of space between you both, Bucky reached into his back pocket and conjured a zip tie, which he then swiftly fastened around your wrists.
His kisses then suddenly ceased before he backed up a few steps, taking a moment to admire as you panted up at him, slightly sloped back on top of the desk, legs trembling to stay parted for him after the loss of contact, and with your bound hands resting against the swell of your tits. Undoing his dark pants, he then freed his cock simply because the sight of you made him throb too hard not to offer himself a few strokes. His consuming stare flickered momentarily in deliberation, before he then finally shifted back into your orbit.
As he tapped his heavy cock against your cunt, you couldnât help but blink down at how huge he looked pressed up against your softness. Your stare only widened when he then humoured himself and lined his fat length up against your belly to see just how far inside of you that his cock would reach, âlook at that⊠thatâs how fucking deep Iâll getâŠâ he groaned as he drew his dick back down, the details of him dragging against your aching clit, ârearrange your guts just to make room for meâŠâ
You naturally assumed that this was all talk, as it usually was, that he would once again ignore your virgin pussy and opt for your well-trained ass instead. But when his pussyjob then grew sloppier and he actually did push against your untouched opening, not simply in a cruel and teasing nudge, but one that persisted till the bulbous tip of him eventually popped inside, just a tad, making you gasp loudly, âoh my godâŠâ all you could focus on was the burning stretch of him splitting you open, before you then blinked down and realised what he was finally doing, âoh my god!â
âThatâs right⊠Iâm your fucking god nowâŠâ he groaned as you clambered around him, struggling to take him as he had purposely not given your pussy any attention at all up till now, âholy shit⊠look at that tight little cunt opening up for meâŠâ
Soon, on his slow and bullying journey inside, his hardness was met with some resistance. But instead of fretting, the older man simply dragged his fat cock back out, slowly withdrawing it till he barely remained inside of you at all, before he then thrust forward once more, carving his way back in before he reached it again, only to initiate that pattern and repeat it, knocking on the thin wall again and again with steadily growing harshness till he broke it.
Though an outright scream left your form at the painful sting, the biker let out a moan just as rumbling as he sank in a bit further before then sliding back out to just the tip and grinning down at the crimson now decorating the half of his monstrous length that he had fit inside of you so far.
âWell, would you fucking look at thatâŠâ he then reached down, his touch briefly skimming over your clit before his fingers drifted down to part and pull on either side of his thick cock, spreading your pussy open even more to let him see how he broke you open. Smearing some blood on his digits, he then brought them up to his own mouth for a taste. His eyes rolled shut as he sucked them clean, groaning against his fingers as your eyes widened in horror. But when he then reached down for more, he instead uttered, âhere, taste your fucking virginity,â and before you could try and twist away, not giving you a choice in the matter, he shoved his crimson digits into your mouth.
It tasted like iron and sin.
Crudely fucking his fingers in and out of your mouth, he didnât let you breathe again before heâd reached far enough down your throat to make you gag on them.
Briefly dipping down, he dragged his tongue against the corner of your lips, licking up the little bit of blood that had smeared against your skin, âso, how does it fucking feel to finally have a cock all up in this little cunnie of yours, huh?â his deep voice vibrated against your hot cheek.
âF-feelsâ,â you panted, âweirdâ,â your eyes squeezed shut tightly as you tried to comprehend the staggering sensation, ânghhâŠh-hurts.â
âOh, thatâs so good, baby,â he only grinned before he placed a peck upon your brow, âthatâs just perfectâŠâ
Snapping into your cunt with more force, his pace increased as he attempted to stuff the remainder of his length inside of you. Â
âUh, uh, uh, uh, uhâŠâ your gasps bubbled out of you to the rhythm of his harsh hips.
âI want you to cum on my cock,â you then heard him growl.
âI-I donât know if I canâ,â you swiftly shook your head as it felt as if he was splitting you in two, âitâs too muchââ
âI donât fucking care, you will do it,â he reached down and began to rub your poor clit, making you choke on a strangled moan, âcome on, let me feel it,â he begged as his tight circles pressed down harder, âjust let go, you can do it. Cream all over my cock, kiddoâŠâ
Tears were streaming down your face by the time that a dangerous sense of warmth formed in the pit of your belly, and your entire body soon contracted painfully as he forced the agonising orgasm out of you.
âFuck, thatâs it, goddamn⊠thatâs what Iâm fucking talking about,â he grunted as your cunt clambered so tightly around him that his selfishness became even more agonising, âuh, do that again and youâll make me nut so hard inside of you,â he muttered, though you barely heard his voice through your haze.
âY-you, whatâ, ah!â you cried out as he then ignored your blubbering and suddenly buried himself completely, finally cramming the last few inches inside of your warmth, ât-too deep!â you struggled to suck in a breath as the tip of him nudged against your cervix as if it was threatening to burst through and fuck directly into your womb.
âNo, Iâm not too deep, this is exactly how itâs supposed to be. Your little fuckhole is supposed to take every single inch of me,â he chuckled down at the imprint of himself that bulged through your belly, âlook at that⊠you see me right there, baby?â he pressed his palm down against it, making you squirm, âyou see me all up in your guts?â
âHoly fuckâŠâ you blinked down at it, mouth agape as it was so much more jarringly prominent when it was your pussy that he was wrecking and not just your poor ass.
âOh, babygirlâŠâ he kept his strokes long and rough, repeatedly withdrawing to the tip before slamming back in till his heavy sack smacked against the mess that had soaked your skin, âthatâs right⊠thatâs my fucking holeâŠâ his eyes stayed glued between your trembling legs, âfucking split open and crying all over me⊠christâŠâ
Your strangled moans soon withered away as his inked fingers found your throat and didnât stop squeezing till black dots began to dance around your dizzy vision.
The desk rattled beneath you when he eventually groaned, âfuck, Iâm gonna cumâŠâ
âP-pullâ, o-outâ,â you panicked in a squeak that he swiftly silenced completely when his grip only tightened, cutting off your air supply even more as he continued to brutally fuck you.
Even after he had pumped your pussy full of his load, the biker still didnât stop completely, as his pace only slowed as he continued to rut his sensitive cock inside of you in a possessive attempt at fucking his load even deeper, although all his fat girth truly did was to force the sticky mess to gush back out.
âO-oh my god,â you blinked down his cum gradually leaking out around him, âdid you justââ
âDoll, if I havenât knocked you up already,â he panted, making you remember the countless of things he had done. From the times that he had filled up your ass with his load and droplets had dripped down to your needy pussy, or when heâd cum in your panties and forced you to wear them for the remainder of the day, or even the few times when the biker had cum on your cunt and rubbed the mess against your skin before stuffing as much of it inside of your hole as he could manage, âthen I just gotta make sure that I do it nowâŠâ he continued to roll his hips, âthis way youâre stuck with meâŠâ he caught your eye just as his painfully slow pace began to bloom horrifying tingles deep within your belly once more, âthis way you get to be mine foreverâŠâ
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Bucky was trying-really trying-to hold it together.
You were already moaning beneath him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, your body slick with sweat and your cunt squeezing him like a fist with every thrust. Heâd been taking his time, keeping it controlled, steady, even though he was right on the edge. Even though every part of him wanted to ruin you.
He was close. So close.
And then your hand slid down between your bodies.
At first, he thought you were going to touch yourself, chase your orgasm with him still deep inside you--and fuck, the idea made his hips jerk.
But then he felt it. The shift. The drag of your fingers at the base of his cock.
And suddenly--
Your hand pushed his hips to still and the condom was gone.
Buckyâs eyes snapped open, he ripped away from the crook of your neck, where he planted himself to stay grounded, his rhythm faltering, heart slamming into his ribs as you tossed it aside like it didnât matter. He stared down at you, stunned, panting. âWhat the hell are you doing babydoll?â
Your voice was soft, breathless, a little ruined. âI want you.â
âIâm already inside you,â his brows pinched as he growls, but it came out shaky, unsure.
You pulled your legs up higher around his hips and looked him in the eyes. âI want all of you,â you whispered. âI want you to come inside me.â
That was it. That was the moment he fucking lost it.
He didnât hesitate. Didnât give himself time to think. He slammed back into you--bare, raw, thick and hot--and the sound he let out wasnât human.
âChrist, baby, fucking--I--â he groaned, the stretch hotter now, slicker, real. âYou feel--God, you-- you--this has to be heaven.â
Your mouth fell open in a moan, hands digging into his back, pulling him down until he's practically laying on you. Your cunt clamped down around him like your body was begging to be filled, and Bucky fucking snapped.
His head was spinning, ears ringing as he started moving again, but there was no control left. No rhythm. Just need. âYou want this?â he growled, breath hot against your jaw. âWant me to fuck you like this? Fill you up âtil itâs leaking out of you?â
You couldnât even form words. Just nodded, already trembling underneath him. âYouâre mine,â he snarled. âMy good girl, taking it raw. You donât wanna stop me, do you? Donât wanna go back?â
You whimpered, âNever.â
That's what did it.
His thrusts turned frantic--deep, punishing, desperate. You were crying out, clinging to him like your life depended on it, and Bucky was unraveling above you. Every time you clenched around him, it pulled him deeper, wrecked him harder. He was ready to start sobbing at the sensation "Baby fuck you're milking this cock I---" his head falls forward resting against your forehead.
You whine and whisper against him, "You're gonna make me cum Jamie"
His eyes glossed over completely, âCum for me princess, cover my cock with your cum before You make me cumâ he panted. âYou want that? You want my come inside you?â
Your legs tighten around his waist as you moan louder from his words your breathing gets caught in your chest as your tremble against him, âYes, Bucky--I James...James please.â
He slammed in one last time and came hard, buried to the hilt, cock twitching as he spilled inside you--thick, hot, so much you could already feel it dripping out around him.
He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead pressed to yours, both of you shaking with the aftershocks.
Neither of you spoke for a long moment.
Then your fingers brushed his cheek. âYou okay?â He blinked. Let out a breathless, wrecked little laugh. âYou just broke me,â he whispered. âFuck completely broke me baby.â
And when you kissed him-soft, slow, full of everything you couldnât say-he realized youâd meant to.
You wanted him wrecked. And youâd get that side of him. Every. Night after this.
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pairing: father's old friend!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!female reader
summary: when your car breaks down on the way to your parents' cabin, Bucky Barnes comes to your rescue. you end up staying in the unfamiliar alpha's cabin longer than you expected, with his far-too-enticing scent driving your omega wild. then, the atmosphere in the cabin shifts suddenly and the tension that's been building finally snaps.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU elements (heat/rut, knotting, presenting, purring, mating, scenting), unspecified age gap, dad's best friend trope, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m), biting/marking, tit/nipple play, finger sucking, come play, panty sniffing, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names (alpha & omega, baby), begging, teasing, possessive behavior, happy ending
word count: 9k
a/n: here's my week 3 entry for @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer event! y'all voted for older alpha Bucky Barnes, and i'm oh so happy to deliver him đ€ this fic ended up being so much longer than i originally intended, but i just loooved drawing out Bucky and reader's torture. (also can y'all believe this is only the second omegaverse fic i've written?? should i write more???) anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!! âĄâĄ
prompt: âNot now!â | [Heat/Rut | Rushed Sex | Exhibitionism]
Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist
It had been a long and brutal week.Â
The only thing that could have made it longer and more brutal was if youâd gone into heat. But thankfully, your omegaâs schedule had always been extremely punctual, and you werenât due for another couple of weeks. Still, youâd been struggling.
Youâd spent the week in a cabin tucked deep into the forest of the Adirondacks, staying in the home of your fatherâs friend, Bucky Barnes. The entire time, youâd been on edge and frustrated beyond belief. Not because the older alpha had done or said anything to make you uncomfortable.Â
It was his scent.
Bucky smelled like fresh air and earthy moss, with an undertone of something warm, like leather. Youâd never scented anything so delectable, and it had been driving you wild all week.Â
That very first inhale had sent sparks of delight popping and fizzling through your bloodstream, settling pleasantly between your thighs in a thrumming heat. And it hadnât stopped being an overwhelming distraction ever since.
To make matters worse, your fatherâs friend was devastatingly handsome.Â
Even if he hadnât smelled as good as he did, your body wouldâve responded to his crystal blue eyes and the rugged dark scruff, with just a hint of gray, on his sharp jaw. His hair was a little long, meaning he had to push it back with his strong fingers, making the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex beneath his black t-shirt.
It had taken every ounce of your self-control not to make a fool of yourself in front of Bucky when heâd picked you up on the side of the road, where you were stranded about a hundred miles northwest of Albany.Â
Your omega instincts had screamed at you to climb Bucky like a tree, but instead, youâd shyly waved hello and tried to pretend you werenât affected by the older alpha who smelled far too delicious.
However, things only worsened when you got in his truck.
It was clear that Buckyâs scent had been embedded in every soft surface of his old pickup, and getting into the cab had felt like submerging yourself in fresh air, rich moss and warm leather. Your body was helpless to the alphaâs lingering smell, buzzing to life, an ache blooming between your thighs.
Even as youâd felt yourself getting turned on, youâd also felt inexplicably safe. The moment settled into the worn passenger seat, you felt the anxiety that had been plaguing you since Poughkeepsie drain from your shoulders, before disappearing entirely.Â
The longer you breathed in Buckyâs scent, the more the warmth in your body morphed into an intense arousal, like nothing youâd ever experienced before. It was so strong, youâd had to press your thighs together and squirm in his passenger seat as inconspicuously as possible, trying to stave off the building ache in your core.
Once youâd buckled your seatbelt with trembling fingers, Bucky had asked if you were alright, waiting for your answer before he pulled back onto the road. Youâd mumbled that you were fine even as heat filled your cheeks.Â
Youâd focused on staring down at your fingers tangled in your lap, reminding yourself why you couldnât reach across the truck for him. He was your fatherâs friend, he was just helping you, he was practically a strangerâand you had no idea if he was reacting to your scent the way you were to his.
But as he drove you to his cabin, Bucky asked about the circumstances that led to you being stranded on the side of the road. You hadnât wanted to be rude, but youâd kept your answers short. You didnât trust yourself when you were surrounded so thickly by his scent, you might accidentally ask him to mount you in the backseat.Â
Thankfully, Bucky didnât seem bothered by your quick, murmured answers. His tone remained patient and low as he asked you question after question until he got the full, embarassing story out of you.Â
Youâd been on your way to your parentsâ cabin, which was set on the same lake in upstate New York as Buckyâs, when your car had started making a terrible crunching sound. Youâd already made it out of the city, though, and you hadnât wanted to turn back, so youâd kept driving.Â
That, of course, had been a mistake.Â
Somewhere deep in the forest of the Adirondacks, your car had given up, puttering out immediately after youâd pulled onto the cracked asphalt of the narrow shoulder. With nothing around but the thick forest encroaching on the road, you hadnât recognized where you were, and youâd been forced to call your parents and confess everything to them.Â
It wasnât just that youâd gotten yourself stranded somewhere between Albany and the lake, you also had to tell them your reasons for deciding, on a whim, to visit the cabin in the first place.Â
Youâd been laid off from your job in the city, you were fighting with your roommate over whether to stay in your apartment in Brooklyn, the city in the summer was too hot and suffocating. Everything was just too much, and youâd needed a break.
As they tried to comfort you about everything going wrong in your life, you couldnât help but feel like your life had gone completely off course. You figured you might as well be stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere New York, since that was exactly how you felt in lifeâstuck, without having any idea where to go.Â
You tuned back into the conversation when your parents relayed the bad news: they werenât at their cabin like youâd thought theyâd be. They werenât even in New York. They were staying with some friends out west, and they hadnât been to the cabin all summer, so they hadnât opened it up like they normally did at the start of the season.Â
That had been when youâd really started crying. You began bawling your eyes out with only the creatures of the forest and the whispering wind dancing through the leaves to hear you. It was almost cathartic, if you could ignore the dire straits youâd found yourself in.
The sun was beginning to set, and fear started to creep in that you might end up having to walk to a strange town in the dark. You couldnât even remember the last time youâd passed any sign of civilization. All you could think about was how there were too many horror movies that began with an omega in exactly your situation.
At that point, with both your parents trying desperately to get you to calm down, your father had gruffly suggested he call his old friend Bucky Barnes. Youâd hardly listened while your parents conferred about that idea, then your mother continued trying to soothe you while your father called his friend.Â
Youâd wracked your brain for any memory of the older alpha, recognizing his name, but came up with nothing. You couldnât even recall whether heâd ever attended one of the parties your parents had thrown at their cabin while youâd been growing up and in college.Â
Youâd asked your mother if youâd ever met him before and sheâd said something vague about Bucky not being particularly sociable. He and your father were fishing buddies, sheâd explained, but that was all sheâd said before you heard your fatherâs voice in the background, telling you to wait right where you were. Bucky was on the way.
When youâd finished telling your story to Bucky, you were grateful he didnât scold you for getting yourself stranded, or lecture you about the dangers of being an unmated omega lost somewhere in the Adirondacks. Heâd only confirmed that the two of you had never met before, and offered you a reassuring smile.
Between Buckyâs low, rumbling voice, that gentle smile on his handsome face, and the scent of him surrounding you like a blanket, youâd felt calm and safe in a way you hadnât in a long time.Â
You were so comfortable, in fact, that you ended up falling asleep while he continued driving, your mind and body exhausted from the stress of the day and the last few weeks.
It wasnât until youâd arrived at his cabin that you woke, the sun having slipped behind the trees as dusk fell.Â
Bucky carried your bags inside while you stumbled after him, taking deep breaths of the fresh forest air before ducking inside the cabin, where his scent was ingrained in every inch of the wooden structure. It was everywhere, and you realized youâd missed it in the short time youâd been outside.
The delightful buzzing pleasure of that smell settled inside your head once again, sparks and tingles spreading through your body. With Bucky distracted by taking your bags into the guest room, youâd inhaled deeply, letting his smell relax you. And if youâd gotten more than a little turned on, tooâŠWell, that you ignored as you took stock of the cabin.Â
The house was set into the gentle slope that led down to the lake, with big windows to let in plenty of light. It allowed those inside to feel like they were immersed in the beautiful green foliage of the trees pushing up against the sides of the cabin.Â
It was bigger inside than youâd expected for a lone alpha like Bucky. The cabin had a big, open living room and kitchen space that gave way to a hallway leading to a guest room, an office, a bathroom and a master bedroom. All of them were big and roomy, even as the cabin felt cozy and homey.
Once you were settled in the guest room, with a gorgeous view of the yard leading down to the dock and the lake, Bucky made you dinner and gave you even more bad news: your parentsâ cabin wasnât habitable yet. Heâd explained it would only take a few days to get the power and water running, then you could go over and air it out.Â
But the next morning, while Bucky was on the phone with the power company, heâd learned there was a downed line that only served your parentsâ cabin. The company had put off repairing it because it hadnât seemed like a priority, so it would take much longer than normal to restore power. Heâd said you could stay with him until your parentsâ cabin was ready.
Youâd smiled tremulously and told Bucky it was fine. Youâd thanked him for letting you stay with him, and asked if there was anything you could do around his cabin to help him out. Youâd told him it was the least you could do while the two of you were trapped together.
But Bucky had shaken his head, a serious look on his face. Heâd told you not to worry about helping out an old alpha like him. Heâd said you should make yourself at home, choking on his words a little and needing to cough to clear his throat. Then heâd smiled, but you thought it looked a little strained.
After that, you and Bucky had done your best to keep your distance from each other.Â
Youâd avoided him because every time he was near, all you wanted to do was bury your face in his neck, breathe in his scent and rub yourself against him like a desperate omega in heat. You went to bed every night feeling frustrated and woke up every morning feeling achy and needy, so you stayed away from the older alpha.Â
And Bucky had avoided you becauseâŠÂ
Well, you werenât sure why Bucky was avoiding you. If you had to guess, it was probably because he could tell what a mess you were and didnât want to get involved. He was a mature, responsible alpha whoâd chosen a solitary life in the woods, and you were an unmated omega whoâd accidentally gotten yourself stranded in those woods.Â
You could understand why he wouldnât want to be around you, even if it stung something in your heart and your omega hindbrain, both of which wanted to be close to him every moment of the day for some reason you couldnât puzzle out.
After a week of staying in Buckyâs cabin, youâd found that the only way to avoid feeling like you were driving yourself up the walls was to stick to a schedule. You had breakfast while Bucky was getting ready for the day, then you waited for him to leave for work, and did everything you could to make sure you were never in the same room as him.
But then everything changed.
The Friday after youâd found yourself trapped in a cabin with the older alpha, you woke up as normalâfeeling the near-constant desire flickering insistently between your thighs while you did your best to ignore it. It had been hard not to pleasure yourself in Buckyâs guest room, but youâd wanted to respect his home.
That morning, for some reason, it was harder than it had been to resist slipping your fingers between your thighs and rubbing yourself to release. You hadnât gotten used to Buckyâs scent and it seemed to urge you on, but you kept your desire in check.
You chalked it up to the long, brutal week staying in Buckyâs cabin and forced yourself to get out of bed. It was early in the morning and you had Buckyâs routine memorized well enough that you knew you could slip out and make breakfast while he was getting ready to leave.
Normally, you wouldâve been able to hear him in the shower and puttering around his room while he got dressed, but that morning, the cabin was curiously quiet. You didnât think much of it as you made yourself some eggs and toast, and by the time you were done eating, youâd decided he mustâve left extra early that morning.Â
You were enjoying having the kitchen to yourself, sipping your coffee and reading a romance novel about a forbidden love between an older alpha and a younger omega, when you felt the energy in the cabin shift. Your body tensed, as if your omega instincts knew something your mind still hadnât figured out.
Then Buckyâs scent hit you anew; its effects were immediateâand staggering.Â
A gasp tore from your lips, but you barely even heard it over the desire surging through your body. Buckyâs scent was suddenly somehow more potent, more delicious, making your mouth water with the urge to suck his cock.
Beneath the thin sleep shirt you wore, your nipples puckered almost painfully, your tits feeling heavy with the need to be groped, to be squeezed, to be sucked. And even that feeling paled in comparison to the thumping pulse between your thighs, your clit aching for attention as slick dripped from your slit, soaking your panties in seconds.
You whimpered pitifully, setting your coffee mug down with shaking hands, some of the brown liquid sloshing over the rim and spilling onto Buckyâs butcher block countertop. But you couldnât bring yourself to care about the messânot when you were overcome with a need that you instinctively knew only the older alpha could sate.
For a brief, panicked second, you worried you were going into heat. But your body felt different than it normally did when your heat was coming on. There werenât any painful cramps in your lower belly as your body yearned for a knot, and, most tellingly, you didnât feel like flames were licking beneath your skin.
You decided what you were feeling was something else, but you didnât know what.Â
Your fingers gripped the edge of the kitchen island where youâd sat to eat your breakfast, nails digging so deep into the wooden grain that it was verging on painful. Your mind felt sluggish as you tried to figure out what was happening to you, but you kept getting distracted thinking about Buckyâs broad shoulders, and his scruffy jaw and his beautiful blue eyes.Â
Without you realizing it, your hips had begun to rock on the barstool you were perched on, your thighs spread wide so you could rub your pussy into the seat. With a desperate whine, you forced yourself to stop, your head hanging between your arms as breaths sawed in and out of your chest.
There was nothing else you could doâyou had to find Bucky and hope he knew what was happening to you, and why his scent was so strong.Â
Your omega cheered at the thought of getting closer to Bucky, and you let those instincts guide you as you stumbled through the cabin.Â
Belatedly, you realized you were heading toward his bedroom, and it wasnât until your hand was raising to knock on his door that you figured out you were wrong earlierâBucky hadnât already left, heâd still been in his room. Doing what, you had no idea.
Biting back a needy keening sound, you rapped your knuckles urgently on the door, trying to ignore the way your slick was leaking down your thighs. Your panties and sleep shorts were soaked with your juices, and the cotton was sticking to your warm skin so unpleasantly, you had the urge to yank them off, but you managed to fight against it.
âNot now!â
Buckyâs roared words sent a delicious shiver down your spine, making your nipples ache so badly for attention that your hand lifted and you began kneading one of your tits while your dazed mind struggled to process what the older alpha had said.Â
When you did, your head fell forward, hitting the door with a light thunk. A helpless sound slipped from your lips and your thighs pressed together as you squirmed in the hallway outside Buckyâs bedroom, your body making it impossible for you to heed the warning in the alphaâs tone.Â
âPlease, alpha,â you sobbed, pressing yourself against the door and scratching at the wood helplessly with your nails. You hardly knew what you were begging forâwhether you just wanted into Buckyâs room or if you were already pleading with him to fuck you. But you knew you needed something only he could give you.
There was a vicious grunt on the other side of the door, and your omega hindbrain read it as an invitation before you could even fully take in the sound. Acting on instinct, your hand fumbled for the doorknob and you pushed into Buckyâs room.Â
The sight that met you made you gasp sharply, your feet stumbling to a stop in the threshold of his room.
Bucky sat on the edge of his bed facing the door, his naked body bathed in the morning sunlight streaming in from the windows overlooking the lake. There wasnât a stitch of clothing on the big alpha, and your eyes raked over him hungrily, unabashedly taking in the way his muscles bulged, veins snaking down his taut forearms.Â
There was a sheen of sweat on Buckyâs golden skin, and his big, broad shoulders were hunched. But even with his body curled the way it was, you could still see his thick, fat cock standing proud between his tree-trunk thighs.Â
The scent of him hit you again, almost making your eyes roll back in your head, but you refused to tear your gaze from the sight of Buckyâs cock. It was so perfect, it made you light-headed. And then you noticed Bucky was moving.
The older alpha had one massive hand fisted around his hard length, his grip punishing as he stroked his cock. The tip was an angry, flushed red as it leaked an endless stream of precum, which Bucky used to stroke himself, the soft, slick sounds resonating in the room.
It was only when a growl tore from Buckyâs throat that you glanced up at his face.Â
His handsome face was contorted in a mask of feral lust, his teeth bared and jaw ticking like he was grinding his teeth together. But his eyesâhis blue eyes were wild and tortured, staring at you like you were his salvation and his ruination all at once.
âYou shouldnât be here, omega,â Bucky growled, his words so rough you could barely understand them. But once you did, your body trembled with rebellion.
Clinging to the edge of the doorframe, it took every ounce of your self-control not to drop to your knees and present yourself to the alpha. All you could think about was his cock filling your cunt, the base swelling with his knot as he fucked you until the two of you were nothing more than rutting animals.
Suddenly, you knew what was happening.Â
âAre youâare you going into rut?â you asked, the breathiness of your voice making you sound more excited than incredulous. In all your years as an omega, youâd never actually seen an alpha go into rut. It was rare, something that usually only happened between true matchesâŠ
âCanât be,â Bucky rumbled, his voice dragging you out of your thoughts. âIâm too old for that.â He was still stroking his cock, grunts of pleasure slipping from his mouth like he couldnât help himself. His shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath, as if trying to gather his wits, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
Buckyâs shoulders went rigid, and something about watching his big body tense made your own inner muscles clench.Â
You cunt was throbbing between your thighs in time with your racing heart, and your thighs were so coated in slick, you distantly wondered if youâd start leaving a puddle in Buckyâs doorway.Â
But then the older alphaâs eyes flew open, pinning you where you stood with the intensity of his gaze.
âOmega,â Bucky groaned, the sheer hunger in his voice washing over you like a wave of warm water. His fist started stroking faster, and he made a choked, frustrated sound in his throat, like it wasnât enough. Like nothing would be enoughâexcept you.
Your feet carried you forward as if they had a mind of their own, your body drifting beyond the threshold of the room and closer to the grunting, growling alpha.Â
He looked magnificent, even hunched the way he was. The bright sunlight brought out the silver in his dark beard, and you wanted to bury your face right under his jaw, inhaling his scent while your rode his cock.
âYou should go,â Bucky rumbled, trying to force some steel into his voice, but you could hear the desperation hidden behind the alphaâs bravado.Â
If heâd really wanted you to leave, he couldâve barked the order. But he hadnât, leaving you able to disobey. So you drifted even closer, enticed by the scent of him and the sight of his big alpha cock.
You came to a stop in front of Bucky, standing just out of his reach. There, you wavered.Â
You didnât want to take advantage of Bucky when he wasnât in his right mind. Sure, there was a haze of lust that had settled thickly over your mind as well, and you hardly felt like you had full control of your body, but you were more lucid.
âLet me help you, Bucky,â you murmured pleadingly, ducking down a little and catching his eye. You kept your expression open and honest, showing the alpha your desire to help. âYouâve been so kind to me, I just want to help you in return.â
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say because Bucky reared back like youâd slapped him. His hand came to a rest at the base of his cock, fisting himself tightly where he his knot would inflate. Your cunt gave an answering squeeze at the sight, but you forced yourself to ignore the aching, desperate need in your body.
âNo,â he roared, his face twisting into a furious expression. âThey trusted me to take care of you, âm not going to take advantage of youâIâm not some savage alpha who ruts unwilling omegas.âÂ
Bucky was spitting mad, the fury only managing to make him look even more gloriously handsome, and it took you a moment to understood what heâd said.
âWhat if I want you to rut me?â you asked, the words tumbling from your lips before you could think better of them. But when they had the desired effect of softening the edges of Buckyâs anger, even if it was only replaced with confusion, you pressed on. âIâm ready and willing, Bucky, I want to see you through your rutâplease.â
Following your instincts, you lifted the hem of your oversized sleep shirt, showing Bucky how your slick had drenched your shorts and was coating your thighs. You trailed your fingers through the wetness on your soft skin, then held your hand out to the alpha, letting him see the way your slick glistened in the bright morning sunlight.
âWe shouldnâtâI shouldnât,â Bucky ground out through his clenched jaw, but there was a clearer tone of a desperation in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.Â
His eyes were flicking between your slick-coated fingers and your eyes, his fist working his cock again. You let your hand drift closer to Buckyâs face, letting him scent the arousal in your juices, and his eyes rolled back in his head.Â
With a furious grunt, he continued speaking.
âI shouldnât rut your sweet pussy until my knotâs buried deep in your cunt and youâre soaking my balls with your scentâfuck,â he growled, roughly working his cock between his thick thighs. âYour scent, baby, itâs been driving me wild. I canâtâI shouldnâtâŠâ
Taking a tentative step closer, you dragged your fingers through the slick between your thighs again and held them out to Bucky, waving them in front of his mouth, below his nose, making him smell you.Â
âI want this, Bucky,â you promised. But even as you said the words, you worried it wouldnât be enough, so you let the full truth spill from your lips. âIâve wanted your knot since the second I got in your truck. Please, alpha, please rut me.â
Bucky lunged from the bed, moving so fast you barely had time to gasp before his big hands were catching you around the backs of your thighs and hauling you into his lap as he sat back down. One of his hands settled on your lower back, holding you in place, while the other circled your wrist and brought your fingers to his mouth.
The older alpha let out an obscene groan when he tasted your slick, the sound going straight to your clit and making a whine build in your throat.Â
Bucky licked your skin clean, his hot tongue snaking between your fingers and making you think about where else youâd like to feel itâon your neck, on your nipples, on the slit between your thighsâŠ
âAlpha,â you whimpered, squirming on Buckyâs lap as you sought friction but found none. His cock was trapped between your belly and the softly padded muscle of his stomach, so far away from where you needed him that you whined sharply.
With a pop, Bucky pulled your fingers from his mouth, and for a brief, fleeting moment the two of you simply stared into each otherâs eyes.Â
Buckyâs pupils were blown so wide they were blotting out nearly all of the blue in his eyes, and you could see the feral hunger of his alphaâs rut beginning to take over. Somehow, it only made him hotter, to see the older man so on the verge of losing control.Â
It called to the omega deep in your hindbrain, the part of you that wanted to be takenâto be rutted and knotted on an alphaâs cock until you were nothing more than base animal instinct. You could feel a wildness brewing in your chest, your breaths coming in sharp pants as you and Bucky hovered on the edge of something brutal and beautiful.
You didnât know who kissed who first, all you knew was that the tension between you and Bucky snapped, and then his lips were crashing down on yours, and you were moaning as the taste of him exploded on your tongue.Â
The fresh air and earthy moss and warm leather made you feel like you were taking a deep breath of a forest breeze. You could taste your own slick, too, which only drove you more wild.
Buckyâs kiss was messy and filthy, all snapping teeth and untethered desire. There was no finesse to the way Buckyâs mouth claimed yours, it was pure alpha dominance. He was rough and uncompromising as his tongue plunged past your lips to devour your mouth, a harsh growl rumbling in his chest as his bearded jaw worked against yours.
All the while, you met Buckyâs ferocity with your own fierceness, sucking on his tongue and wringing a groan from the big alpha that had him kissing you even harder, bending you backwards until you hung suspended above his spread thighs.Â
The only thing that stopped you from toppling off his lap entirely were his hands pressed firmly against your back, holding you crushed to the softly padded muscle of his chest.Â
Your nails dug into Buckyâs broad shoulders, reveling in the way his skin was hot to the touch, matching the heat blooming and throbbing between your thighs. Your hips squirmed on Buckyâs lap until you felt the thick, hard length of his cock press into your core.Â
Even through your sleep shorts and panties, Bucky felt exquisitely perfect. His cock was hard and throbbing, his own precum mixing with the juices coating your skin.Â
Your scents were mingling and turning into something newâsomething that was so intoxicating it went straight to your head, making you achier and needier even as it gave you a sense of soul-deep satisfaction. You were too distracted, though, to think about what that meant.
A keening whine worked its way up your throat, and Bucky swallowed it down with an answering growl, like he felt it tooâfelt how perfect you were together. It made you cling to him harder, your hands sliding up his shoulders and burying your fingers in his soft brown hair.
The kiss broke just as suddenly as it started, with Bucky wrenching his mouth away from yours to tear at your sleep shirt. You helped him pull it over your head and then his mouth was on you again, his big hands roaming all over your bare skin.Â
Every graze of his roughened palms over the curves of your body had you moaning mindlessly into his mouth until he could barely kiss you anymore.Â
His mouth hovered close to yours and you both panted against each otherâs lips, his groans blending with your breathy whimpers while he learned the feel of your body.
Buckyâs hands grabbed at your hips, pulling you deeper into his lap until your cunt was pressed flush to his cock through your clothes, leaving you to rock against his hardness while his hands wandered up your back, fingers tracing the vertebrae of your spine.Â
He brushed his thumbs teasingly against the sides of your tits, and when you keened pitifully, he relented and groped your soft mounds. A feral grin stole across his handsome face when he plucked at your nipples, pinching them between his fingers so harshly, he made you let out another desperate whine.Â
He kept playing with your tits until you were a writhing mess of need on his lap. Only when you were on the verge of tears did Bucky take pity on you.
âGet those shorts and panties off and present for your alpha,â Bucky growled, turning and tossing you down on top of the mussed blankets of his bed.Â
He got to his feet, towering over you and watching you while he pumped his cock in one hand. He stared down at you with so much hunger, it made your pussy clench, aching for his knot.
But you didnât let the magnificent sight of the older alpha standing naked in all his brutal glory distract you for long, not when heâd issued an order that you were all too eager to follow.Â
With scrabbling fingers, you pushed your panties and shorts down over your hips, tearing them off your legs. Before you could toss them somewhere in the room, Bucky held out his free hand and you gave him the drenched mess of tangled fabric.Â
The older alpha brought the bundle to his face, pressing the soaked cotton right against his mouth and nose then taking a deep breath.Â
A rumbling growl echoed in his chest, the sound going straight between your thighs as you stared at the hottest thing youâd ever seenâBucky inhaling the scent of your slick straight from your panties.
âIâve been dreaming about your scent all week, baby,â he rumbled gruffly, his eyes at half mast as he continued stroking his cock, even more precum leaking from the tip. It was so hot, you were frozen where you were, unable to look away.Â
Buckyâs gaze was hazy and unfocused as he stared down at you, looking like he was completely undone, and it was your smell that had him looking that way. The knowledge of how much power your scent had over the alpha made your omega preen, a smirk fluttering around the corners of your mouth.
âBeen thinking about burying my face in your sweet cunt and drowning in your scent,â he went on, like he was confessing his sins. âBeen thinking about having you soak my beard with your slick and then fucking you so good you come on my knotâwant to be so wrapped in your scent that I never get it out of my head.â
Your body clenched hard at Buckyâs words, a moan spilling from your lips as you felt more slick leak from your hole. You didnât know how Bucky was holding himself together while going into rut when you were on the verge of losing it and demanding he knot you. But it reminded you of his order.
In a rush, you scrambled onto your hands and knees to get into position. You lowered your shoulders to the bed, burying your face in the blankets and breathing in his scent just as deeply as heâd done with your panties. Moss and leather swirled in your head, making you moan into the sheets.Â
Then you were arching your spine and pushing your ass high in the air. You presented your aching pussy to the older alpha, whining to get his attention. âAlpha, please!â
Buckyâs gaze sharpened and snapped to you, his eyes going molten hot when he saw how you were positioned on his bed, head down on the blankets, ass in the air, cunt on display for him. A lazy smile curled his lips and he dropped your panties and shorts to the floor, moving to you.
âGood omega,â Bucky purred, climbing onto the bed behind you, his big hands stroking over your ass and hips and thighs. âYou look so pretty presenting for your alphaâyou gonna be a good girl and help me through my rut, huh?â
A happy hum thrummed in your throat and you nodded, watching Bucky over your shoulder. He was transfixed by your body, his eyes following his hands as they roved over your curves. He grabbed big handfuls of your ass, kneading you so roughly, you could hear the quiet, wet sounds of your pussy lips pulling apart.Â
As he groped your ass, Bucky pressed his cock firmly against your pussy, so you could feel the hot, hard length of him against your soft, dripping folds. He rocked hard into you, holding your ass in place so you had nowhere to go while he was grinding his cock against your cunt, coating his shaft in your slick.
His eyes were growing more hazy and unfocused by the second, but before Bucky could go into full-blown rut, he wrenched his gaze away from the sight of his cock pressed against your pussy, and caught your eye over your shoulder.
âYou sure about this, omega?â Bucky asked, his voice strong and steady even as you heard that undercurrent of desperation in his tone.Â
His eyes searched yours, and you could see the strain in his face. It was taking everything in him to stop himself from following his instincts so he could check on you.Â
âI can manage on my own if you want to stop,â he promised.
You couldnât explain your bodyâs reaction to Buckyâs words, but the fact that he was still, even on the verge of going into rut, putting your needs above his own had heat licking beneath your skin. It was a pleasant, glorious warmth that wrapped around your heart and soul, making you even more sure about your decision.
âPlease, Bucky, I want this so bad, you donât even know,â you murmured pleadingly, arching your back and presenting yourself even more. You pushed against his hold to press back against his cock, reminding him of your eagerness. âI want you to fuck me, alpha, please.â
âAlright, alright, baby,â Bucky rasped, ducking down and capturing your lips in a quick brutal kiss before he was sitting up again. One of his hands grabbed your hip while the other fisted his cock and rubbed the head through your dripping folds. âHold on then, âmega. Once âm inside you, Iâll go into full-on rut.â
Buckyâs eyes were dark, even in the bright light of the sunshine streaming into his bedroom, and you could sense him hesitating. He seemed stuck on the edge of pushing into you and finallyâfinallyâsatisfying the need burning through both your bodies.Â
You realized he needed another little push, something more than reassurance.
Reaching back, you wrapped your fingers around Buckyâs wrist, clinging onto the strong arm holding your hip. You gave him a squeeze and caught his eye when he looked at you in question.Â
You let a smirk curve your lips, his only warning for what was about to come out of your mouth.
âCâmon, old man,â you said, your voice cheeky and playful as you grinned up at Bucky. âRut your omega good and hard, alphaâI can take it.â You gave him an insolent wink, and he finally snapped.
Buckyâs eyes burned into yours and a feral grin slashed across his face. âMy omega,â he growled, right before thrusting into your pussy, burying his cock deep in your tight heat with one, brutal stroke.
A scream burst from your lips as pleasure detonated within you.Â
Buckyâs cock was so thick and hard inside you, filling you up so perfectly and making you stretch to accommodate his heavy length. The veins dragged exquisitely against your sensitive inner walls, the tip hitting a spot deep in your pussy.
It all set off sparks of delicious pleasure that went spiraling through your body. You gasped for air, barely knowing what was up or down, only your fingers around Buckyâs wrist and his cock buried in your cunt keeping you tethered to earth.
Above you, Bucky purred in satisfaction, pleased with the way your pussy wrapped around him tightly. And then you felt his rut take hold.Â
The alpha barely gave you a moment to adjust before he was pounding into you, his hips pulling back until only the head of his cock remained inside. Then he plowed forward, filling you up all over again and again and again.
You were helpless to the alpha, your body going weak and pliant in his hold, giving in to the ferocious power in Buckyâs thrusts.Â
All you could do was moan and mewl, your fingers still clinging to his wrist while he fucked you so hard and fast, your body and mind were lost in a dizzying, endless dance of pleasure.
âMy omegaâmy beautiful, perfect omega,â Bucky growled, his words spilling from his mouth almost mindlessly. âSo hot and wet for your alpha, baby, youâre squeezing my cock so tight. Ya want your alpha to rut you and knot your perfect cunt, donât you, âmega?â
Bucky curled his body over yours, engulfing you in his heat and scent. His hand shifted from your hip, fingers tangling with yours and pressing it into the soft blankets next to your head.Â
Twisting your body, you grabbed Buckyâs beard and pulled him down for a kiss that was all nipping teeth and soothing tongues. It was brutal and beautiful in equal measure, just like the joining of your bodies.
âYou want to be mine, donât you, baby?â Bucky rumbled against your mouth, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of his lips.Â
âYes, yes, god yes, alpha,â you cried, taking his pounding thrusts with your face half buried in his blankets.Â
With every stroke of his cock inside you, you could feel the beginning of his knot catching at the edge of your hole, making you whine and squirm dumbly beneath him. You needed him so badly, you babbled unthinkingly.
âWant you so bad, alpha, want you to split me open on your fat, alpha knot and claim me as yoursâplease, daddy!â
That last word, the one youâd only thought about in your most secret fantasies, slipped out so easily in the face of the overwhelming pleasure Bucky was giving you.Â
And even through the haze of your ecstasy, you felt his cock twitch inside you and hips stutter in their rhythm. Then he was moving faster and harder.Â
âOh fuck,â Bucky growled, his mouth right next to your ear, his coarse beard tickling your neck. âSay that again, babyâcall your alpha that filthy name again.âÂ
âDaddy,â you cried, shoving your hips back to meet Buckyâs thrusts, stars bursting behind your eyes as the tip of him pounded into a spot deep inside you.Â
The growl that rumbled in his chest was pleased, and it urged you on, emboldened you to continue calling him that dirty word.
âKnot me, daddy,â you begged, your voice thin and pitiful, which only made Bucky fuck you harder with his cock. âRut your omegaâs pussy and fill me with your comeâplease, alpha, please, I need it!â
âFuck, baby, youâre such a perfect omega for your alpha,â he rumbled, pressing messy kisses to your cheek and jaw before trailing down to your neck. âYouâre gonna get daddyâs knot, âm gonna fill you up so good, baby.âÂ
His filthy words were a promise that he sealed by scraping his teeth teasingly over your throat.
You tipped your head to the side, not even a little bit concerned that he could bite you, break skin, and cement a bond between the two of you even though youâd only met a week ago.Â
You werenât worried, you trusted Bucky. You trusted him not to bite you without your consent, even if your body was asking for it.Â
He chuckled into the curve of your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough that even if he didnât bite you, you knew heâd leave a mark behind. The idea of him claiming you in that way had you grinning happily, an omega purr rumbling in your chest.Â
âYouâre so fucking perfect, baby,â Bucky murmured into your skin, his voice rough with pleasure and something else, an emotion that tugged on your heart and had your fingers squeezing his where they were still tangled together. âMy omega, my sweet, beautiful, perfect omega.â
Your body clenched around Buckyâs cock and tears of swelling emotion sprang to your eyes. You dragged him to you for a deep kiss, your entangled fingers curling in his beard.Â
His mouth was softer, even as his hips picked up their pace, the older alpha rutting into you faster and harder.
Bucky lost himself entirely to his instincts, babbling gruff, barely intelligible words about how perfect you were and how good you were to him.Â
He mumbled a litany of filthy promises, telling you he was going to fill you with his knot and his seed and keep you impaled on his cock while he flooded your cunt until you were overflowing with his come.
Even through the haze of his rut, you could still feel your alpha in the tenderness of his touch and the care Bucky had for you.Â
Though he was rough and wild, he never hurt you, pushing you to the brink of a pleasure that was so brutal and beautiful, you werenât sure youâd survive it. But you trusted Bucky to guide you through it safely.
When he was close, Buckyâs fingers slipped beneath your body and pushed between your thighs until he found your clit. He rubbed your sensitive bud in tight, merciless circles, making you shudder and clench around his cock, pushing you closer to the edge of your own release.
âCome, omega, come on your alphaâs cock,â Bucky growled in your ear, his hips grinding his cock deep in your pussy as he rutted your cunt. âBe a good girl for daddy, and come, baby.âÂ
It was too much. Bucky felt too good, his thick cock filling you too perfectly and pressing against that spot deep inside you.Â
You were helpless to his rubbing fingers and filthy words, flying over the edge of your release and screaming your pleasure into the blankets of your alphaâs bed.Â
Bucky followed right after you, grunting and growling through his release. He bit down on the curve of your shoulder, careful not to break skin and cement a mating bond even as he came.Â
The feeling of his blunt teeth sinking into your skin sent another wave of white-hot ecstasy through your body, and Bucky groaned when your pussy clenched around him even tighter.
Buckyâs cock twitched inside you, flooding you with his come as his knot began to swell. It inflated quickly, and you gasped at the feeling of his knot plugging your pussy, locking you together while you rode out your releases.Â
Gradually, the waves of euphoria began to recede. But still, you felt heat licking beneath your skin, starting from where your body was connected to Bucky and flowing through the rest of your limbs.
At first, you thought it was the beginning of renewed pleasure, your omega instincts responding to Buckyâs rut by readying for another round. But then you felt a gush of slick between your thighs and your cunt clenched down greedily on Buckyâs cock, like your pussy was trying to suck him and his knot even deeper.Â
The alphaâs body was still curled around yours and he grunted at the feeling of you squeezing his cock. Shifting and dragging his nose up the side of your throat, he buried his face in your neck and took a deep breath, his body going still at whatever he noticed in your scent.
âAre you due for your heat, baby?â Bucky asked carefully, his voice clearer than it had been while he was in the throes of his rut.Â
He sounded so calm, his voice so low and delicious it took you a moment to understand what heâd asked.
âIâI shouldnât be,â you stammered, confusion fighting against the warmth filtering through your body. Already, you had the urge to arch your back and beg Bucky to fuck you again, just like you would if you were in heat. âIâm not due for a few weeks.â
Before you could even properly protest the idea that you were going into heat, Buckyâs knot deflated enough for him to slip from your pussy. A gush of fluid spilled from your hole, but the two of you were too shocked to pay any attention to that because your bodies had proved you wrong.
Alpha biology was so well attuned to an omegaâs that if they were in heat, the alphaâs knot would deflate faster than normal, and their refractory period would speed up, making sure they were able to attend to their omegaâs heightened sex drive.Â
Buckyâs cock was already hard again, the shaft brushing against your pussy between your thighs. And your skin was burning up, so the warmth of Buckyâs body became almost cool to your touch.Â
Everything was pointing to you going into heat, but you still couldnât quite wrap your mind around it.
Gently, Bucky turned you over onto your back and settled between your thighs, his big hands encouraging your legs to hook around his hips. His thick cock nestled against your soft, swollen pussy while he dug his arms under your back, holding you cradled against his chest, his face hovering above yours.
âHey, are you ok?â he asked in a soft, gentle tone. He ducked his head to catch your eye, but you were staring unseeingly through him, trying to make it all make sense.
âDoes this mean weâreâŠâ you began to ask, your voice trailing off as the words stuck in your throat.Â
They were trapped by the hope bottling up in your chest. You wanted to sure about what was happening before you let your emotions loose, let the elation fly free and whisk you away to the life youâd never dared to dream about.
But where Bucky had been hesitant before, he was steady and sure in the face of your uncertainty. A smile flirted at the edges of his mouth and he captured your lips in a quick kiss before he finished your question for you.
âTrue matches?âÂ
At those words, your eyes suddenly focused and searched for him. Your body settled instinctively when your gaze met Buckyâs, and his smile turned affectionate as he stared down at you, stroking your cheek fondly with his thumb.Â
âYeah, baby, it means weâre each otherâs true match,â he said, seemingly happy to help you understand what was happening. âOnly an alphaâs true match can trigger a rut, and only an omegaâs true match can spark their heat.â
Bucky gave you a moment to soak in his words, waiting patiently while his thumb traced your lips. His big hand was cupping your face so reverently, it nearly brought tears to your eyes, and you stared up into the alphaâs gaze.Â
Seeing the open affection on his handsome face finally got through to you.
Bucky Barnes was yours. He was your true match, the one alpha in all the world who was meant to be yours. And you were his.Â
It was why his scent smelled so good to you, why youâd felt so drawn to him, and why youâd been so frustrated by him avoiding you all week. It was why youâd rebelled when heâd pushed you away when you wanted to help him through his rut.
That realization made you snort a laugh, which had surprise dancing across his features, a question in the furrow of his brow.Â
âAnd you thought you could fight this,â you said, your voice wavering with laughter before you dissolved in a fit of giggles.Â
A rumbling chuckle came from Bucky as he waited for you to get ahold of yourself. You were still laughing helplessly when his mouth found yours in a slow, sweet kiss.Â
The laughter finally died in your throat and your fingers tangled in Buckyâs hair, kissing him back for all you were worth. His beard scraped against your cheeks and you delighted in the feeling, your pussy throbbing between your thighs.
âMm, you really are mine, arenât you, baby?â Bucky murmured against your lips after slowing the kiss and pulling away slightly. His blue eyes shimmered with affection and hunger as he stared down at you.Â
âYeah, Bucky, Iâm yours,â you answered in a voice so full of happiness it was practically a purr. âAnd youâre mine, alpha.â
âDamn fucking right,â Bucky growled. He dove back down for another, deeper kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth and tangling with yours.Â
It wasnât long before the heat simmering beneath your skin became too insistent to ignore, and you whined into Buckyâs mouth. Your hips rocked beneath the older alphaâs bigger body, grinding your cunt against his hard, twitching cock and coating him with a new layer of your slick.
âPlease, alpha, I need you to knot me,â you whimpered pitifully, fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back. âFuck me, Buckyârut your omega and fill me up, daddy, please!âÂ
âDonât worry, baby,â Bucky said, shushing you gently as his hand slipped between your bodies.Â
He guided his cock back into your pussy, sliding deep into your tight heat while you moaned into each otherâs mouths.Â
âYour alphaâs gonna take good care of you, âmega,â he promised. âJust be a good girl for daddy and take my cock.â
Then Bucky was fucking you, hard and deep, rutting into your cunt with all the ferocious power of an alpha. It was glorious, pleasure spiraling through your body as you met his every thrust.Â
After that, you succumbed to your heat, your omega giving in to your alpha and letting him take care of you.
For the next few days, you and Bucky barely left his room while he attended to your every need, whether that was filling you up with his knot or getting you to eat and drink some water. It was a haze of warmth and pleasure, and by the time your heat broke, you were wrung out and exhausted.
Bucky tucked you into his chest, holding you tight against his body as he purred and soothed his hand up and down your spine, urging you to sleep. You fell asleep quickly, excited to wake up rested and begin your life with your alpha, your true match, your love.
The journey of finding your way to Bucky Barnes may have begun with a long and brutal week of frustration and unsatisfied need, but you were excited to build something beautiful with himâsomething that would last for the rest of your lives.