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nanaslutt · 2 months

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baby making

ʚ pairing: husband nanami x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, established relationship, talk of pregnancy, breeding kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f!r), dacraphillia, rough sex, cockwarming, Nanami is whipped

ʚ note: it’s not necessary, but a little context to the plot u can find here on this smau i wrote :3

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You placed your phone down on your bedside table and rested your head on the pillow under you, sticking your arm underneath it. You could hardly contain your excitement waiting for Nanami to get home. You were unable to resist pressing your thighs together at the thought of Nanami's pure excitement when talking about getting you knocked up.

Starting a family was only something the two of you talked about when your relationship first started, as the two of you made sure you were on the same page before things got serious, and thankfully they were. Both you and Nanami eventually wanted to have kids.

Your eyes darted over to your phone on the bedside table every few minutes, your heart racing as you watched the time tick by, knowing with each growing second, Nanami was on his way home to you. You squeezed your thighs tighter together and rut your hips forward, trying to bring yourself a little relief from the friction of your clit being pressed between your thighs.

Sooner than you were expecting, you heard the familiar clicking and jingling of Nanami trying to work the door open with his keys, making you shoot up from the bed in excitement and rush out of the bedroom, running toward the front door. Nanami sighed when he finally stepped foot into the familiar environment being his own home, the scent of you filling his nostrils, making him even more antsy to see you.

As the blonde-haired man loosened his tie and started undoing the first few buttons on his shirt, you slid out from behind a wall, rushing toward him with a beaming smile on your face. Nanami's expression changed into a warmer, happier one as you quickly made your way over to him. Nanami hummed quietly as he took you into his embrace, wrapping his large arms around your body as you pressed the side of your face into his chest, inhaling his scent.

"Someone missed me." Nanami joked, rubbing his hand over the back of your head, the other rubbing your back soothingly. "You got here so quick." You responded, pulling back a bit to look him in the eyes. Nanami moved his hands in front of him to grab your soft cheeks in his warm palms, the head from his hands radiating into your skin. "You really were needy huh?" Kento cooed, watching carefully as you leaned into his touch, your facial muscles relaxing.

You let your eyes shut when Kento leaned forward and pressed a lasting kiss to your forehead, his soft lips tickling your skin before he pulled away, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "Let's move this conversation to the bedroom, hm?" Kento said softly, his deep voice melting away your tenseness. Nodding at him, you let Nanami take your hand in his and stroll in front of you, leading you to the bedroom.

You started to grow antsier by the second as you grew closer to the room, knowing exactly what conversation waited for you there. Nanami placed his hands on your thigh as you sat down on the bed against the pillows, legs folded crisscross as he sat in front of you, one leg hanging off the side of the bed.

His hand rubbing against your upper thigh should've felt soothing, but it only fueled your neediness more and more. "Why don't you tell me what you told me earlier," Nanami said, smiling at you sweetly. The scent of his cologne was filling your nose and making you dizzy, his words that put you on the spot made your heart race. You placed your smaller hand on top of his that rested on your thigh and looked into his eyes, fighting every urge that said to look away.

"I want you to get me pregnant Nanami." You said quietly, slowly stroking up his wrist and forearm before sliding back down. The small, comforting action sent shivers down his spine, his eyes following your hand's motion. "And you're sure you want this?" He asked, gripping your thigh to emphasize his words. You waited till his eyes found yours again before you gave him a small smile and nodded.

"I wanna start a family with you Ken, I think we're ready." You said, swallowing whatever saliva was left in your dry mouth. Nanami's smile grew, the tips of his ears growing red at your words. Keeping his eyes on yours, he slid his hand out from underneath yours and placed it on top of your own, caging your hand against your thigh for a moment before he gripped your wrist and started pulling it towards his body.

You held your breath, only releasing it when he finally placed your hand down on top of something hard, hot. The bulge your hand was forcefully placed on top of twitched several times under your palm, making you throb between your legs. You didn't have to look down to know what you were touching. "You know, I've been like this since you texted me at work," Nanami said calmly, his deep voice making your body tingle.

You nodded slowly in understanding, your eyebrows barely furrowing together as your arousal for him grew. Nanami started palming your hand, making you rub his bulge through his pants. The blonde-haired man released a long, low groan, his eyes falling shut as he relished in the feeling of your hand rubbing his cock through the fabric. He could feel his dick leaking pre-cum against his boxers, antsy to get out of the tight confines of his work slacks.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Nanami said, leaning forward, keeping your hand pressed against his cock. You let his body guide yours to lay down against the sheets, your legs spread around his hips, making room for him between your legs. You gasped as Nanami leaned down into the crook of your neck and pressed a kiss to the soft skin there before he groped your hand on him harder, a moan spilling from between his lips and seeping into your ear.

Kento released your hand, trusting you would keep teasing him over his pants while he reached between you and placed his hand right above your pelvis. Your thighs squeezed around his waist when he pressed down, hard, making you feel his touch from the inside. "Gonna let me put a baby in here tonight? Hm?" Kento teased, rubbing your lower tummy in circles, making gasps and small moans fall from between your lips.

"Yes," You breathlessly replied, nodding at him. Kento's eyes darted back and forth from your tummy to your lustful face as he kept rubbing you there, reminding you what would be filling you up soon. "Kento's mouth fell open into a larger O when you gripped the outline of his cock through his pants, your palm rubbing against his tip just right.

"Oh fuck," He moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head for a moment before they found your face again. "Come here." Kento rushed forward and pressed his lips against yours, greedily swallowing your hums and moans. His hand on your tummy released the pressure and slid down your pelvis, quickly finding that most sensitive spot between your legs through your pants.

Nanami hummed against your lips as he started rubbing that spot with two large fingers, his face growing hotter and hotter after every moan that escaped your lips. You stroked Nanami over his pants the best you could, your cunt growing wetter as you felt Kento throb against your hand, his hips humping into your touch. He was rushing more than usual.

You knew Kento had a breeding kink, he didn't even try to hide it. The man would rather die than finish anywhere but inside of you when the two of you were fucking, he said it was a waste. Always babbling on and on about how he was going to fuck you full, knock you up, and this time when he said those things, he would really mean it. It would be more than just dirty talk to work the both of you up.

Even at the beginning of your relationship when the two of you used condoms, he still came inside you with the rubber surrounding him, pretending as if his cum was filling your womb instead of the stupid condom. Your eyebrows raised and your eyes fluttered in their sockets when Kento rubbed quick, hard circles against your clit through your pants, making your strokes on his cock pause as the pleasure clouded your head.

"Yeah? Feel good?" Nanami moaned against your lips when you broke away from the kiss, breathy moans leaking from your lungs. You nodded dumbly at his words, feeling how the heat spread through your body. "I know," Nanami responded, nodding at you. The man pulled back seconds later only to slip his fingers under the hem of your pants and panties and jerk them off your body in almost one fell swoop, his urgency making you giggle.

When Nanami turned back to you after discarding your clothes on the floor, he watched as you pressed your thighs together, hiding yourself from him as you giggled, covering your mouth with one of your hands. Nanami pouted, the blush on his face deepening as he placed his hands on the tops of your knees and forced them apart, keeping his eyes on your giggling face. "What?" He asked, keeping that stoic, pouting look on his face.

"Nothing it's just-" You reached up and grabbed his face in your soft hands, making Nanami's eyes flutter at the soft touch, his head leaning into the touch. "You're just being so needy, I like it." You said, smiling at him. Nanami turned his head in your hands and placed a kiss on your palm before he leaned back, making your hands drop back down to your sides.

Nanami lowered himself on his stomach between his thighs, placing your thighs around his head. The pressure of the soft mattress against his clothed cock felt good, bringing him a little relief while he worked you open. You sucked air in through your teeth when Nanami placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thighs, his hair tickling your skin. "How can I not be?" He responded, looking up at you, his other hand mindlessly reaching for your cunt and spreading you open, all muscle memory.

"My wife told me she wants me to give her a baby, it's hard to be calm," Nanami said before he leaned in and let his eyes close as he licked a fat stripe up the expanse of your cunt. Immediately your hands reached between your thighs to card through his hair, your neck craning itself up to watch him work between your thighs. Kento's eyebrows knit at the familiar, sweet taste of you, making him hungry for more.

That single touch of his tongue on you was the sweetest he was going to be. Kento dove in after that, like a carnivore who just had its first taste of blood after starving all winter. You squeezed his head between your thighs, allowing yourself to move your hips against his face how your body needed, just like he always told you to do. "Oh fuck Ken, oh fuck-" You whined when he shook his head back and forth against your cunt while sucking your clit between his lips.

"Mhmmm...mmmm." Nanami moaned into your cunt, acknowledging your curses and cries of his name as he fucked you with his tongue. You were unable to keep your head up any longer when Nanami's finger joined the assault on your cunt. He rubbed the tip of his finger against your entrance to warn you he was going to penetrate you before he pressed it in, his finger sliding in with barely any resistance thanks to how wet you were.

Kento got to work quickly, thrusting his finger in and out of you in time with his sucks and flicks of his tongue against your cunt. You cried out his name and gripped his hair hard between your fingers when he curled his finger straight into your g-spot, making your back arch. "Fuck- Kento right there- r-right there," You whined, your head thrashing back and forth against the pillow under your head.

You never lasted long when Kento ate you out, he was so good with his tongue and knew each and every spot that made you lose your mind. His other hand had a firm grip on your thigh, squeezing the fat of it whenever your legs around his head squeezed too tight, restricting his mobility. "Ken I'm gonna cum- s-shit-" You felt your orgasm barrel at you quick.

Kento nodded and hummed against you before he pulled his finger out of your dripping cunt to the hilt before pressing in another finger, immediately going back to the quick pace he started before in curling and thrusting his fingers inside you, abusing your g-spot. Your body shook and writhed against the sheets, almost seeming like it was trying to escape the pleasure.

"God-" You grit the word out through your teeth just before you came. Nanami sucked hard on your little bud, flicking it around with his tongue, drawing circles, and spelling his name. With one last movement of his tongue, the ball in your tummy unraveled and you were cumming all over Nanami's tongue. The man groaned feeling your walls squeeze around his fingers as he kept fucking you through it, bulling his fingers into your g-spot.

You cried broken moans of his name as you came, your head jerking side to side, eyes squeezed shut. Nanami's eyes were barely open but they were open as he watched your face screw into pleasure as you let go all over his tongue. Nanami pulled back from your cunt when your hands pushed him away feeling yourself start to go into overstimulation from his ruthless tongue.

You swallowed air greedily, fighting to catch your breath from such an intense orgasm. Your cunt clenched and twitched around nothing after Nanami slid his fingers out. The man sat up and placed your shaky, weak legs over his thighs, rubbing them soothingly as you fully came down from your orgasm.

"How was that?" Kento asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he placed his hand back on your thigh. You gave him a drunken smile, staring at his messy face and ruffled hair. "You're a mess." You smirked, reaching up to drag your hand down his chest. Kento watched your hand drag down his body and rest on his belt, your other hand joining it.

He looked back up to your face, finding your eyes already on his. The clinking of the belt echoed through the room as you worked on getting it off of him, along with unzipping his pants. Kento grabbed your hand before you could pull down his pants. The man grabbed your wrist and leaned over your body, lacing his fingers with yours as he pinned you underneath him, your hand above your head.

Kento's own hand reached down and reached into his boxers through the hole in the crotch, pulling his cock out through it, his pants still resting on his hips, just a little lower so it was more comfortable for him. You dropped your eyes to watch him jerk himself off, rubbing the pre-cum he leaked along the length of his shaft.

"I can't wait any longer, I'm sorry." Kento said, almost remorsefully. You noticed how shaky his hand was, he must really be holding back. You reached out and grabbed the first half of his cock, jerking it off with him. The man groaned at the touch, his hips jerking into your touch. "It's okay Ken, I'm ready for you." You replied, smiling genuinely at him, reassuring him you were okay.

Kento leaned forward and connected his lips with your own, his tongue pushing past your lips and entangling with your own, as he continued stroking himself, the head of his cock poking the inside of your thigh, smearing wetness on your skin. "Ken-" You tried to speak against his lips but his kiss was too hurried and forceful, drowning out any words you had to say.

You wrapped your one arm that wasn't pinned down around his neck, your nails scratching against his shirt, the fabric wrinkling under your grip. "Put it in k-kento put it in." You whined, forcing your head back against the soft pillow, allowing you to escape his life for enough time for him to hear your words. Kento groaned against your lips, not answering you with any real words as he directed his cock to your cunt, the fat, warm head of his cock rubbing against your cunt.

"Mhm, mhm." You encouraged him, moaning into the kiss, nodding against him. You could feel Nanami's hot breath tickling your face as he breathed out heavily through his nose, mixing your juices together as he rubbed himself against you. Your breath halted when Nanami caught the head of his cock against the opening of your cunt. You felt the pressure of him pushing against you, slowly feeding you his cock.

Nanami's lips separated with yours and the two of you groaned in unison when his fat head penetrated your warm walls and started sliding inside. You could feel every bump and vein of his cock rubbing inside you as he slowly pushed himself in. "Shit, I got you, I got you." Nanami groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck, his fingers entangling with yours tighter above your head.

His breath was shaky against your neck, choked moans and breaths of air escaped him as he fought to not thrust the entirety of his cock inside you and mess you up already, you needed to adjust first. You opened your legs further around him, giving him some room as he pushed himself deeper inside. "You're so soft inside after you cum." Kento groaned into your ear.

You squeezed your eyes shut and grit your teeth as Kento fully thrust himself inside you, his balls pressing flush against your ass, his chest pressed to yours. He was letting a little bit of his body weight rest on top of you, and it felt so nice, grounding. "God-" You moaned in response to his words, your cunt tightening around him, making him release another choked groan.

Nanami leaned back and released your fingers with him, placing your legs over his shoulders before he leaned over you again, your body now folded in a mating press. "H-hah- you feel so deep like this," You whined, your voice high-pitched and whiny. You wrapped both arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, not wanting to lose the pressure of his body against yours.

Nanami slipped a hand between your bodies and found your clit with his fingers with expert precision. He began rubbing the bud in circles slowly, making your pussy squeeze around him in response, a feeling that went straight to his balls. "You should try b-being in my position, I feel like I'm in your stomach," Nanami responded, rolling his hips in circles against you, trying to stretch you open like that.

Moans and whines were pulled from your lips as each rotation he made with his hips pressed his cock against your sweet spot. The combination of his finger rubbing your clit and his cock gyrating inside you made your eyes roll back in your head. "Good, need y-you to be deep so it takes." You replied, your words needy and breathless, which you whined straight into his ear. You felt Kento's cock jump inside you before you felt his head fall limply into the crook of your neck, undoubtedly from his body going weak with pleasure.

"Please, please let me move." He begged, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You turned your head towards him and kissed his forehead, your hands rubbing his back. "Move Ken, fuck me, fuck a baby into me." You whispered into his ear. The blonde man wasted no time in pulling his cock out of you almost entirely before he slammed it back inside, starting up a brutal pace inside you.

Moan after moan was being forced from your lips as Kento's cock bullied right against your g-spot. You felt tears well up in your eyes immediately, just a few thrusts and he was already fucking you dumb. "You feel so good, so fucking warm." Kento babbled, his eyes pressed firmly shut, his lips pressed to your neck, occasionally pressing kisses and sucking hickeys into the skin when he wasn't spewing filth and groaning with an open mouth.

"I love you- I love you." Kento moaned, his hand gripping the underside of your thigh stronger, keeping you folded in place for him as he pulled his head up from the crook of your neck to find your fucked out face. Tears had started streaming down your cheeks, your eyebrows were knit together in pleasure and your eyes fought to stay open with each thrust. Nanami placed his forehead against yours, your skin rubbing against his with each strong thrust of his hips against yours.

"L-Love you Kento, I love you so much-" You replied, feeling yourself squeeze around him at your own words. You felt his soft lips press against your forehead softly, gently, a stark contrast from his rough hips beating your pussy up before he leaned back and held the underside of your thighs down as far as they could go, the backs of your thighs touching your body.

Kento's balls slapping against your ass were creating a loud, lewd, squelching sound that made you feel dizzy. You looked down at where your bodies were connected and watched his cock drag in and out of your cunt, a thick white ring of cum forming at the base of his cock from how wet you were. You could only watch for a few seconds before your head tipped back agaisnt the pillows, your eyes screwed shut as wonton moans left your lips. "You're taking me so well, doing so good honey." Nanami praised, shaking his head at you in awe as more and more tears spilled down your cheeks.

Nanami released you from the intense position right when your thighs started to burn, your legs falling limply over his thighs as his body was back on yours again. You were brought back down to earth when you felt Nanami's warm hand caress your cheek, his thumb wiping away the stream of tears that had spilled. Although his effort was futile as more spilled down anyway, the gesture made your heart swell.

Kento's lips found yours again, his hand sliding between your bodies again to find your clit and rub it soothingly in little circles, making the knot in your tummy tie tighter. Kento's groans and moans were much more frequent now, louder too. He wasn't one to hold back in bed, but he also wasn't super loud in terms of the volume of his moans. Tonight was different, however. He couldn't stop picturing you knocked up, your tummy round with his child after the events that were happening right in front of him. It was driving him crazy.

Nanami's lips disconnected with yours unexpectedly with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, as his head found its home in the crook of your neck once more. His hips were losing their pace, and his finger rubbing against your clit was more erratic now too as he grew close to his orgasm. "H-hahh." He moaned, his teeth sinking into the spot where your neck and shoulder connect before he released, replacing the bite with kisses.

"Kento, y-you close?" You asked, your voice shaky and broken. You already knew his answer, but you knew how much he loved when you talked during sex. "F-fuck, yes. I'm not going to last much longer." He whined, trying to bury his face deeper in the crook of your neck. The feeling of him rubbing his face against your skin, trying to hide, trying to find comfort- it made you fall in love all over again. Just that little gesture showed how much he loved you, how safe he felt with you.

"Cum inside me Kento, get me pregnant, w-wanna make you a daddy." Nanami was sure his brain had short-circulated at that moment. He had no particular kink for that word, it was just the reality of the situation had hit him when you called him that. He was going to be a father, the father of your children. "Y-you drive me crazy, you know that?" He moaned, fighting back a whine when his cockhead rubbed against a particularly soft spot inside you.

Nanami kept aiming for that spot, noticing how tight you got when he did. "I-I'm gonna fill you up, fuck a baby into you, make us parents." He groaned in return, kissing your neck wherever his lips could reach. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the attention, he was touching all of your sweet spots inside and out, you weren't going to last much longer either.

"God p-please Kento, cum with me please." You cried, pulling his body closer to yours, using whatever strength you had left in your legs to squeeze around him. Nanami's thrusting grew more erratic, his pace got faster, sloppier, as loud groans and whines spilled from his lips before his hips stilled against yours.

Both of your jaws fell open as you came together. Nanami's hot cum flooding inside the deepest part of your cunt was just the push you needed to fall over the edge. Kento's hips stuttered and rolled into yours as he pressed himself balls deep, making sure his cum would get into your womb. His finger slowed against your sensitive, throbbing clit, which was starting to hurt from all the attention.

The two of you gasped and whined against the other, holding onto each other for dear life as you rode the aftershocks of your orgasm out together. Nanami didn't stop moving his hips until he was sure he had fucked each and every last drop of his cum inside you, even fucking himself into overstimulation as long as it meant he was sure he got you pregnant.

"Fuck... I'm so full." You whispered, sliding your hand between your bodies to press on your stomach. Nanami groaned through his teeth, the moan getting cut off halfway as he felt the pressure of your hand against his dick. Kento gripped your wrist when he felt his cum move around him, flooding towards the base of his dick. "Don't," He said quietly, his voice hoarse and breathy. "You're going to push my cum out. Need to keep you full." Kento said, almost cutely.

You smiled and placed your hands on his cheeks, making him pick up his head from the crook of your neck. "Ken, you came inside me enough to make 400 kids, I'm sure one of the swimmers will stick." You joked, but Nanami's face was stone serious, he wasn't going to take any chances. His lack of reaction only made you smile harder. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his nose, a lasting kiss, one that transferred all the love you felt for him.

"Maybe if we're lucky we'll get twins," Kento said, the tips of his ears turning red at the thought. You shook your head and smiled, kissing him again, on the lips this time. "Someone's ambitious." You replied. "I wouldn't be surprised though. Seriously, you came so much. I don't think I've ever felt this full before." Nanami's face turned a deep crimson at your words, his eyes averting from yours. "What? Feeling shy now? After all that?" You giggled, watching how his eyes fell shut when you rubbed his cheek. He was like a cat.

"Are you alright?" Kento asked, ignoring your teasing. You nodded, wrapping your legs around his hips. "I feel perfect." You replied, smiling honestly at him. Kento sighed before resting his head on your chest. He practically purred when your hands started raking through his hair, scratching down the nape of his neck, and under the collar of his shirt, teasing his shoulders.

"You should get those pants dry-cleaned." You said, not even wanting to look at the damage your sopping cunt did to them. Nanami made a noise of acknowledgment as his body relaxed against yours, his cock now fully soft inside you. "We should clean up sleepy head, need to change these sheets." You said, trying to act responsibly even though you too felt the tiredness creeping over your body.

"Not yet, need to keep you plugged up. Let's just fall asleep like this." Kento suggested, snuggling against your chest, his hair tickling your chin. You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you stared at the ceiling. Who knew a man of Kento's age could be so childish? "I'm setting a timer for an hour, I wanna take a bath with you." You replied, raking your hands across his scalp. Nanami made a semi-coherent noise of acknowledgment, even though you know he didn't hear you.

You tried to reach over to the side table to grab your phone but Nanami's heavy body on top of yours kept you from getting very far. Sighing in defeat, you placed your hand back in Kento's slightly damp hair and began running your hands through it again, making the man hum in pleasure. You decided if he wasn't worried about it, you weren't going to be either. You were exhausted, after all, a little sleep after such a workout couldn't hurt.

When Kento felt you fully relax under him, submitting to his idea to just relax with one another, you heard his deep voice rumble your chest ever so faintly as he spoke, "You're going to be an amazing mother."

4K notes · View notes

thevillainswhore · 5 months

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New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.

“What the shit–“

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.

Had he been listening that whole time?

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.

Though, it is short lived.

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.

Okay, you think privately, so what?

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard.

Bucky… is a virgin?

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind.

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.

You can’t have that, though.

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him.

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries.

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”

That meant only one person was responsible.

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.

Love ya squirt,

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.

Part Two, Part Three

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