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You used to love grocery shopping.
It was at the small, locally owned supermarket right in the middle of town of your cute, cozy town.
You knew where everything was, having a routine. First the fresh produce, then your breads, moving onto dairy and lastly snacks and frozen foods.
You also missed Martha, the sweet, 60 year old cashier that asked about your day and weekend plans.
She always gave you a discount on Sunday’s, putting her index finger over her lips as she gave you a wink while you thanked her.
Her granddaughter was in your class, well, you were a substitute teacher for her granddaughter’s class and she absolutely adored you.
But now, you were thrust into a new, larger than you could wrap your head around city as you struggled to find the damn ranch.
God, nothing made sense. Why would you put the produce in the middle of the grocery store? It didn’t make any logical sense as you muttered something under your breath before taking a deep breath and craning your neck to read the sign above you.
Aisle 7: useless, useless, useless ah, there it was, salad dressing.
It had to be there, there was no way it could be hiding anywhere else.
You may have been a little too wrapped up in your own little world, eyes trained on the small bottle of ranch as you heard the sound of metal clashing against metal.
Your head shot in the direction of the disturbance and oh no, “oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
The words left your mouth at lightning speed, spilling apology after apology at the stranger who quickly turned around with a warm smile on his face.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he chuckled, a wave of relief washing over you as your anxiety settled: he wasn’t mad or angry or upset.
You shook your head, “I was so focused on finding the ranch, I-I totally didn’t see you there.”
He cocked his head to the direction of where the various salad dressings sat, “oh you don’t want that one, this one’s much better.”
He grabbed for the one right beside, a brand you weren’t familiar with and extended his arm.
That’s when you caught a glimpse of it, realizing it was a prosthetic of sorts that shined under the unflattering fluorescent supermarket lights. It was black with little gold detailing and truly beautiful.
You grabbed the bottle gently, reading the label, “so if I hate it, I know who to blame,” you joked, getting him to crack a smile.
“Bucky,” he offered the same hand for you to shake as you did so.
That’s also when you could take a better look at him. He was older than you, you didn’t know how much, but older. Blue eyes paired with dark tufts of brunet hair, mixed with grey’s that littered and peppered his head. Along with slightly rosy cheeks from the late summer heat.
He was cute. He was hot. You wanted to know more about the handsome stranger in the salad dressing aisle of the grocery store.
“I will take full responsibility if you hate it, but that won’t happen.” He replied confidently as you raised your eyebrows, “careful, you’re setting the bar really high for me.”
He shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest, “keep your standards high, sweetheart.” He winked and you had to duck your head because wow, that was smooth.
The silence started getting awkward before someone loudly cleared their throat and motioned at the fact you and Bucky were blocking the aisle as you quickly cleared it.
“I guess that’s our sign,” he joked, “I’ll see you around.” He dropped his right eye in a wink and all you wanted was to hear him say your name just a little bit more.
You didn’t have time to think about Bucky for longer than a few days. Though, you often hoped to bump into him again.
Stressing about teaching your first year ever was the only thing circulating in your mind.
And today was the first day.
You were sitting in the classroom, double, triple, quadruple checking everything as you paced the classroom looking up at the clock every 30 seconds; you counted.
Everything had to be perfect. First impressions were everything and you didn’t want any of the parents to have a reason not to like you.
Hell, you were terrified of any of the kids not liking you, they were first graders, they shouldn’t be terrifying.
Yet here you were, shaking in your skin as you heard the familiar footsteps accompanied by much heavier adult ones.
It was go-time.
After the first couple of parents you felt like yourself again, greeting everyone and pointing towards their own individual cubbies before the chaos ensued and you barely had time to keep track of who was flying into your classroom.
It all seemed to be settling down before…
“I’m so sorry we’re late, but someone refused to eat their banana’s because they weren’t cut perfectly even.”
A familiar voice rang out from behind you.
“Dad! You just don’t get it!” A smaller, younger voice argued back playfully as you spun on your heels and there Bucky was, holding a pretty pink backpack in one hand with who you presumed to be his daughter by his feet.
“Oh hey, how was the ranch?” He asked nonchalantly, smiling as he stepped closer to you.
“It was, uhm, it was great,” you were caught off guard, but you had to remember where you were and who surrounded you.
“See, I told ya’,” he smiled, keeping it professional.
“Well, this is Luna, Luna, this is your new teacher. She’s very nice and she even likes the same ranch as you!” He cheered, watching her face light up as she ran into your legs and hugged you.
You forgot kids did that.
“Oh my— Luna,” he softly scolded her, “you gotta ask before you touch, remember?”
You chuckled, “it’s alright, really. But those are some good rules that your dad has.” You told her in a sweet, but matter-of-fact tone of voice as she nodded her head.
Then she was off, spotting a friend as Bucky turned back to you, “I’m sorry, she’s just super excited about the first day of school.”
It was endearing, most kids hated it, not wanting to leave their parents side.
You shook your head, “that’s great to hear, honestly. I think I’m more nervous than the kids.”
He furrowed his brows, squeezing your shoulders, “there’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”
That damn nickname sent a whirlwind of butterflies roaring through your stomach, reminding yourself to stay professional.
You couldn’t answer him, getting caught up in the questions of other parents are you slowly lost sight of Bucky.
You had no choice but to take a deep breath before getting on with the rest of your first day.
Luckily for you, the end of the day came faster than you thought it would and soon enough your classroom emptied until it was just you and Luna.
She seemed pretty content, though. Sitting on the mats reading a book before her head shot up at the heavy sounding boots on the floors.
“Daddy!” She squealed, jumping right into his arms as he crossed the threshold of the classroom and laughed as he caught her.
“Hey princess! I'm sorry I was late, but how about we stop for some ice cream on the way home?” He suggested and she cheered, running to pack her things.
He looked at you, a sympathetic smile on his lips.
“Don’t even try to apologize, you’re 15 minutes late.” You beat him to saying anything and he ducked his head, laughing.
“It won’t happen again, I promise.” He said, sticking a pinky out as you looked at him slightly confused.
He rolled his eyes playfully, “oh c’mon, this is the only way to keep a promise.”
You chortled lightly, wrapping your pinky around his, “there, now it’s sealed.” He smiled, both your hands dropping to your sides as his eyes met the small sign up sheet that hug on your small announcement board.
“What’s this?” He asked, stepping closer, “oh, it’s just a sign up sheet if parents wanted to lend a helping hand for any of the activities planned for the year.”
“It’s not mandatory,” you added, seeing the look on Bucky’s face.
“Are there any spots left?” Meeting your eyes as you scanned over the list, seeing that all of the spots, had in fact, been taken.
“Oh, it uh, actually looks like there aren’t,” you said, surprised yourself as you met his eyes again.
He was smiling, grabbing a marker from one of the group of desks you had made the craft section before he was kneeling and scribbling something.
“There,” he said proudly, “now there’s a new, and very important may I add, spot that I can fill.”
Designated Chair Stacker - Bucky Barnes
You laughed, shaking your head, “ very important.”
And it was, your mind flashed back to all the chairs you were forced to stack after assemblies, parent-teacher nights, show and tell’s, and yeah. It was the worst, and Bucky was now offering his help—you weren’t going to refuse it.
“Thank you, Bucky. Really, you didn’t have to take on that responsibility,” you say as he just shrugs his shoulders, “it’s really just so I can show this baby off.”
He raised his prosthetic into the light, smiling as you looked at it, once again getting interrupted by Luna hurling herself towards Bucky and hanging off of his arm.
“You ready to go home, munchkin?” He laughed, going to grab her bags and truly, pack for her because she had gotten distracted by anything and everything.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, looking down at his daughter, “bye, Miss!” She squealed, waving her hand at you as you waved back, watching her and Bucky leave the room as you felt a smile etched onto your face.
Then it really hit you, Bucky was a parent of one of your students which means the crush you had slowly developed on him was hideously inappropriate.
The days turned into weeks, and weeks in months and suddenly the school year was nearly over.
You really couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe that time was flying by that fast.
But here you were, moving chairs around the classroom in preparation for the parent-teacher night that was starting… shit , you looked at the clock, it was starting now.
Trickling in one by one, with their children, the parents came, stayed, chatted, and left.
Everything was going smoothly as the night dwindled away and all you wanted was to go home, get in your baggiest and comfiest sweatpants and order a pizza before falling asleep watching The Office.
“You expecting anymore visitors?” Bucky’s voice rang out as you saw him leaning against the doorway.
“What’re you doing here still?” You asked, shaking your head as you looked at the clock.
He pushed off the doorway, walking into the room to stand in front of you before motioning to all the scattered chairs still out, “they call my name.”
You laughed, shaking your head at how seriously he’s taken his roll, but you’re truly grateful because you don’t think you’d physically recover from stacking thirty chairs.
He got to work quickly, watching him as he picked them up with ease and you thought that his metal appendage must have some…advantages.
Advantages that were completely inappropriate to think about, but when he looked so good stacking chairs—biceps bulging in the one-size-too-small black shirt he was wearing, well it was hard not to let your mind wander.
“And just like that,” he beamed, “s’all done.”
It took him 15 minutes to get them all stacked and neatly lined up in the corner, “wow.”
“Impressive, I know,” he joked, shaking his head and there was a flirty nature surrounding the two of you.
You were glad it wasn’t awkward, but, you were never sure of how genuine it was because you were his daughter’s teacher.
“Thanks again, Buck,” the nickname often slipped into your daily vernacular around him as he smiled, “the pleasure’s all mine.”
He made your insides turn to mush, a feeling that you haven’t had in years, swearing off all relationships after your ex-almost-husband decided it would be a fantastic idea to cheat on you in your shared house.
“You on your way out?” He asked as you picked up your bags, double checking that everything was in place to be left alone for the weekend before nodding your head, “yup.”
“You like pizza?”
His question catches you off-guard, “uhm, yeah?”
He smirks, “awesome, I’ll drive,” he’s got his keys in his hands, walking backwards out of the classroom with a smile on his face as he watches the smile that tugs on your lips.
“Oh c’mon, I know the best pizza place ‘round town,” he chuckles as you’re walking through the now empty and darkened hallways of the school.
You walk through the front doors of the school and into the cool, early spring night air as you take a deep breath.
“The best? You really do have a habit of setting these high standards,” you joke as he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and you feel like you’re back in high school with how nervous you get.
“What did I say, plum? Your standards gotta be high,” you shake your head, letting him lead you to his car; a 1967 Mustang.
But you still can’t get over the pet-name he’s given you, more intimate that sweetheart.
“You’ve been here for what? Over six months? When’s the last time you went out and did something for you?” Bucky asks, tone becoming more serious as you sigh.
“Okay, okay, okay, you caught me,” you laugh, raising your hands in mock defeat as Bucky rounds the car and opens the passenger side door for you.
“Nothing says self care like pizza,” he chuckles, sliding into the drivers side before the engine roars to life and you can feel the muscle of the car from the way your seat vibrates under you.
Bucky takes to the streets, stopping at stop signs and red lights where he would look over at you as you shared the many memories and stories you had as he just listened.
When you grabbed the pizza—with extra cheese—Bucky drives out to the town’s lookout. With the windows down and the radio playing faintly in the background, you both eat in between fits of laughter and giggles.
“Well? Is it the best pizza ever?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow at you quizzically as you hum, pretending like you’re thinking over your answer.
“It’s alright,” you reply, biting back a smile as Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, “I’ll let that one slide. But only because you’re cute.”
Your breath hitches, getting caught in your throat at his words and you’re shaking your head.
You didn’t have anything to say, couldn’t find the words as you looked back up at Bucky who was looking right back at you.
He furrows his eyebrows, “hang on, you’ve got a lil’…” he leans over to swipe his thumb over your bottom lip to collect whatever was there.
“Did you get it?” You whisper, noticing just how close he was now.
His lip twitches, “not yet, think I’ve gotta get a lil’ closer,” he hums, lips brushing yours before he was kissing you.
And you kissed back, pressing your lips to his gently as he held your face in his hands.
When you pulled back you felt giddy, looking at him sheepishly, “that was wrong,” you sigh as he cocks his head, “kissing a pretty girl, is wrong ?”
You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head, “no, but kissing your daughter’s teacher might be.”
Truthfully, you weren’t sure, there must’ve been some sort of unspoken code but as you sat here, in Bucky’s car with his hand still cupping your face, you really didn’t care.
“Promise not to tell?” He smiles, holding out his pinky before you’re curling yours around it like you’ve done so before.
“Promise not to tell,” you whisper, echoing his words before his lips are back on yours.
He tasted like pizza, marinara sauce and cheese and yet it was the most romantic moment you’ve experienced so far.
The kiss deepened, a groan leaving Bucky’s lips, “if you don’t wanna go further, stop me now, but fuck,” he whimpers, “wanna feel ya so fucking bad, baby.”
You moan, long and high-pitched as your skin prickles with goosebumps from the way his hands are roaming your body.
“Don’t stop, whatever you do just please , don’t stop.”
That was all he needed before you were both tumbling into the small, slightly cramped backseat of his car.
You always knew that Bucky was bigger than you, that he was huge. But having him like this, having his body pinning you down, it really solidified the fact that he was large.
“You really have no idea how crazy you drive me,” he purrs, hot breath against your neck as his lips travel over your jawline.
His hands squeeze your hips, his own grinding and dragging over the fabric of your jeans and fuck, why did you decided to wear jeans today. Out of all days today had to be casual Friday.
“Didn’t think I’d ever feel like this again,” he murmurs over your skin, the scent of his cologne; oaky and rich, invading your senses as you let yourself relax into his touch.
“Then you come into my life?” It’s a rhetorical question, a statement of disbelief, as he lifts his head to meet your eyes and you can see the faint outline of his smirk.
“Not only do you make me feel young again, but you make my dick hard too?”
“Bucky,” you openly whimper, grabbing him by his neck to pull his lips back down to his and it gets messy, fast.
You’d like to think that your first time with someone should be romantic. That it shouldn’t happen at 11:30 on a Friday night after you’ve consumed an entire pizza in the backseat of a car.
But, maybe this is romance.
It’s the simple things in life; it’s the ten dollar pizza, it’s the soft touches, it’s the way your stomach flips at the thought of that person.
Your jeans are shrugged off, hanging somewhere around your ankles as Bucky’s shirt is torn off and you gasp.
“I know, I know, plum,” he groans, “I'm gonna take care of you, gonna give you what you need.”
It’s a soft promise as his metal fingers dance around the waistband of your panties before they’re slipping under the same time your hand wraps around his cock.
“Holy fu—” you’re at a loss for words as Bucky looks concerned, like he’s hurt you or overstepped a boundary, “how’re, uh, are you gonna… fit ?” You squeak out as Bucky blows a breath of air in relief.
“We’ll make it fit,” he purrs, fingers focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves that he’s found in expert time and you throw your head back, “fuck.”
You don’t mean to sound desperate, but you are. You’re desperate because you can’t remember the last time a man paid any attention to you.
His touches are teasing, giving you what you need before pulling back and leaving you on the edge all while you continue to messily stroke him.
“You’re concerned ‘bout me fitting, sweetheart,” he hums, “but you’re soaking my fingers and backseat.”
A shudder rolls over your spine, feeling two thick fingers dip into your entrance, “I think you’ve just got a greedy little cunt.”
His voice is thick and low as he rasps in your ear, fingers curled deep inside of you, just coaxing moans as your fingers dig into his speckled skin; leaving those little crescent marks that remind you of the moon.
The cool fabric of the leather seats aren’t enough to cool your skin, the car suddenly a million and one degrees hotter than it was just minutes ago as you pry your eyes open.
Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, tongue darting out at the side of his mouth, “you look so pretty under me like this, plum.”
Oh how you hate how good he is with words, fingers stilling inside of you, “too good not to eat.”
You’re not given a chance to respond before he’s able to position himself between your legs, tongue against your hot, aching core and your hands are flying to his hair as you tug.
“Fuck, do that again, plum. Felt s’good,” he moans against your pussy, eyes begging as you tug at his hair, bringing his face closer to you.
He moans, eating you out like a man who hasn’t seen food in days; sloppily and hungrily.
You’re dizzy, unable to breath and yet, he still doesn’t let you cum.
“No, no, no,” you’re trying to push him back down, “please,” you hiccup, on the verge of tears from how fucking badly you need to cum.
You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel cold fingers swiping at your cheeks, “don’t cry, plum.” He cooes, kissing the tip of your nose as he lies you back down on the seat.
“Need you,” is all you manage to choke out, “I know, sweetheart, I know you need it,” he hushes you.
You feel him at your entrance, slowly pushing into you and you gasp because yes, yes, yes. Finally!
“You look so pretty when you cry. So fucking desperate and ruined, yet I haven’t even fucked you,” he growls, bottoming out and it fills you more than anyone ever has.
It leaves you wincing as you adjust to the intrusion. “Don’t move, it’ll only make it worse,” he shushes, softly massaging your pelvis while pressing kisses to your face as you relax.
“That’s a good girl, just relax,” his voice is low, reeling at the way it rumbles through his chest that’s nearly pressed flush against yours in the tight space.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He purrs, “having my cock buried s’deep that I can feel me right…” he moves a heavy palm over your lower belly, “here.”
When he adds pressure, you absolutely lose it, squirming under him as your toes curl. The feeling of him so deep, so fucking deep that he can feel himself practically in your guts, leaves you trembling.
“Gonna let me fuck you now? Have you coming over my cock and making a mess on my backseat?” He taunts, slowly rocking his hips against yours, his pubic bone brushing over your clit sends jolts of electricity through your limbs.
The car squeaks when he thrusts into you, suspension working in overtime as he has to use the doors edge as a makeshift headboard to keep himself steady.
You know that the car is shaking and if anyone was to come across it, you’d be fucked.
“Oh, fuck. Yeah, that’s my girl, looking so pretty taking my cock,” he groans, the angle you’re forced into due to the size of the backseat makes it so he’s hitting your sweet spot.
And you know it won’t be much longer.
He’s had you on the edge for far too long and he feels far too good.
“C’mon plum, don’t hold back for me,” he pants, eyebrows knit tightly and the sound of Bucky whimpering and whining from how good you feel causes that tight coil to snap.
You take him with you, his arms giving way before he has just enough time to catch himself right over you as your lips and moans mesh together.
Messy. There’s no other work to describe it other than messy.
But it’s also perfect.
The cool night breeze is a relief through the opened front windows as Bucky’s ragged breathing fans over your face.
“Wow.”
It’s said in unison, giggles leaving parted, swollen lips before you’re both struggling to re-dress yourself. Your panties beyond ruined, but you don’t care.
When you’re both in the front seat, sitting facing each other trying to keep the smiles off your faces you just can’t.
Because Bucky grabs your face, pressing a wet kiss to your lips, “I think I wanna keep doin’ this with you, don’t think I’ll ever wanna stop.”
Yeah, something about older men, something about Bucky. You didn’t know what was going to happen, all you knew is that you were around for the journey.