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witchywithwhiskey · 1 month ago

Text

this time of year

pairing: friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: you've kept your feelings for your friend, steve rogers, quiet for years—but when you're at the holiday market with your whole group of friends, some things come to light, and you don't think you can keep pretending you don't desperately want him anymore.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, light angst, smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), piv sex, protection, fingering (f receiving), nipple play, multiple orgasms, kissing, making out, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (sunshine), aftercare, happily ever after—this is probably the most vanilla sex i've written in a while but it's still porn with feelings.

word count: 11.9k

a/n: my first entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, and it's technically still december 1 where i live (just barely)!!! i used the prompt "Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?" and had an idea i really liked and just ran with it! i promise most of my december fics won't be 10k+ words—mainly because i don't think i'd survive it 😅 but i hope y'all enjoy this soft and sweet and smutty start to december!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Teasing tingles of chill danced across your skin as the crisp December wind brushed against your cheeks, making you huddle deeper into the warmth of your winter coat. You pushed your hands deeper into your pockets, but it didn’t do much. You’d forgotten your mittens, and your fingers felt nearly frozen.

It didn’t help that you and your friends had been meandering through one of the city’s holiday market for more than a few hours, the cold of the evening sinking deep into your bones. Unfortunately, there were only so many cups of hot chocolate one person could consume before they made themselves sick, and you’d reached that limit.

Still, you were having fun—too much fun to complain about the cold or to try to beg off early. That was why you smiled as you watched your best friend, Yelena Belova, duck into one of the market stalls, her green eyes going wide as they raked over the vendor’s display of knives.

You trailed a little slowly behind the rest of your friends—Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers—beneath the pop-up tent, distracted by the chill in your fingers as you rubbed them against your body through the material of your coat, trying to get them warm.

The wintry wind cut through the market again and, despite the trembling of your body, you smiled as you breathed in the scent of it. Beneath the pine smell from the evergreen trees being sold at the big tent near the entrance and the swirling richness of buttery baked goods, there was a fresh scent that made you turn your face upward.

Gray clouds were rolling in overhead, blotting out the deep navy of the evening sky, and you knew, deep in your bones, that it was going to snow. A smile curled the edges of your lips and you let your eyes fall closed as you breathed in that fresh scent of oncoming snow.

You loved this time of year because you loved the snow.

Everything about it conjured up memories of sitting by a crackling fire, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching the beautiful flakes fall from the sky and dust everything in a perfect wintry cloak. You could spend hours sitting by a window, watching the snow come down, and you were suddenly looking forward to doing just that once you got home that evening.

When you finally opened your eyes and turned away from the sky, you found Steve lingering in the entrance of the tent where your friends were browsing, an intensity in his gaze as he looked at you. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring, simply held your gaze, letting you see the heat swirling in the depths of his bright blue eyes.

That heat had begun appearing in Steve’s eyes more and more when he looked at you, and you knew it had started after a certain night at the bar your friends frequented a few weeks prior. But you’d been determinedly ignoring that look in Steve’s eyes ever since that night—just like you’d been ignoring what exactly had happened between the two of you.

As fast as the memory of that night sprang to mind, you shoved it aside, reminding yourself that there was no use in dredging it up. What you and Steve had done that night had the potential to ruin all of your relationships, and no matter how much you might’ve wanted reenact the night at the bar, your friend group was too important to you to risk it.

Even after years of knowing them, you still felt like your addition to the group was precarious because you’d joined so much later. Steve, Bucky, Nat and Yelena had all known each other since they were teenagers, and you’d only met them in your early twenties. You’d sat near Yelena at your first job after college, and it had been best friends at first sight—or, at first snarky comment, anyway.

She’d adopted you as her best friend and introduced you to the others since you were new to the city and didn’t know anyone. You’d liked Steve from the moment you met him, but you’d kept a tight lid on your crush since you were more concerned about fitting into the group as seamlessly as possible, and you figured following your feelings would unnecessarily rock the boat.

Still, despite your intention of taking your crush on Steve to your grave, you couldn’t ignore the way he’d grown into himself as you all had gotten older.

Gone was the boy-next-door blond hair and clean-shaven face of the man you’d first met. Steve’s hair had darkened and he’d recently let it grow long enough that it was beginning to curl at the nape of his neck. He’d also grown out his beard, keeping it thick but neatly trimmed.

Steve had also, somewhere along the way, learned how to dress his tall form—and do it well.

That night at the holiday market, he’d worn light gray slacks, a dark charcoal sweater that you desperately wanted to rub your cheek against to see if it was as soft as it looked, and a black wool overcoat. It was an outfit that had you nearly drooling when you’d met up with your friends, unable to tear your eyes away from how Steve’s broad shoulders and trim waist filled out the clothes.

Despite the chill of the evening, Steve hadn’t seemed the least bit cold, and you’d caught yourself thinking more than once how warm it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms. Your fingers would never have gotten so miserably frozen if you’d snuck them beneath Steve’s coat or in his pockets…

With a start, you realized you’d been staring back at Steve for a long, lingering moment, and heat bloomed in your cheeks. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea—though, at that moment, you were struggling to figure out what exactly the wrong idea was—so you ducked your head and pretended like you were bundling deeper into your coat as you made to move past him into the tent.

“Are you alright, sunshine?” Steve asked as you passed him, his hand landing gently on your arm. Even through your coat, you could feel the warmth of his touch; it made you pause and glance up at him.

You realized your mistake immediately. You were too close to Steve—far too close. So close you could smell the rich, masculine scent of his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. It made you want to bury your face in his neck and inhale deeply, to wrap yourself up in his warmth until your bones didn’t even remember what the cold felt like.

“I-I’m ok,” you said in a shaky voice, more rattled by Steve’s closeness than the December wind cutting through the city, and you dropped your gaze to the gold pendant around his neck.

It glinted in the soft light of the market stall, and you remembered it had been a gift from his Irish Catholic mother. You used the memory of Steve telling you about the pendant to ground yourself and your voice came out stronger.

“Just cold.”

“D’you want some more hot chocolate?” Steve asked, and there was a hopeful note in his tone, like he was offering to get it for you, but you were quick to shake your head.

“Any more and I think my body will be more hot chocolate than water,” you joked, trying to ignore the emotions swirling in your chest like snowflakes on a wintry gale.

When Steve chuckled, you couldn’t help but look back up at him, finding his blue eyes sparkling as he gazed down at you, affection clear in the lines of his face.

Slowly, his smile eased into something else—something heavier, an expression that was almost yearning. It made the fluttering flakes in your chest swirl more frenziedly while a warmth bloomed somewhere lower, throbbing more to life the longer Steve looked at you with those darkened blue eyes. His expression spoke of things you’d never dare give voice to.

For another long moment, you and Steve just stared at each other, standing too close just inside the canopy of the vendor at the holiday market. A tension you refused to acknowledge crackled in the air around you.

Of their own volition, your eyes dropped to Steve’s mouth, his lower lip looking so soft and pink amid the dark brown of his beard. For what felt like the millionth time in the last few weeks, ever since that night at the bar, you imagined kissing him—how soft his mouth would be, how warm and inviting, and the feel of his rough beard rasping over your cheeks.

“Hey Steve, c’mere!”

Natasha’s call finally broke the spell that had fallen over you and Steve, and you jumped back, only in that moment realizing how close you’d been. Close enough that when you ducked your head and turned away from him, making your way over to Yelena and Bucky, that you missed Steve’s warmth almost immediately.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to ease the tension and whirling emotions in your chest, and slid between your friends, who were still looking at the knives on sale. Looping one arm through Yelena’s, you rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, taking comfort in your friends’ warmth, even if it wasn’t as soothing as Steve’s had been.

“Both of you already have too many knives,” you said by way of a greeting. Your comment made both of them snort derisively, which made you smirk since it had been your intention to get a reaction out of them.

“There’s no such thing,” Yelena scoffed, tearing her eyes away from a double-edged dagger with an engraved handle to glance sideways at you. Her gaze met yours and then slid over your shoulder.

You followed it to where Natasha and Steve’s heads were ducked together. They were standing near a display of jewelry and you figured Nat was helping Steve pick out a Christmas present for someone, though you couldn’t think of who. You frowned.

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

Bucky’s gruff question drew you out of your thoughts of trying to remember someone in Steve’s life who he might be buying jewelry for, and you looked at your friend. Without even seeing your reflection, you knew confusion was written plainly across your face.

“What?” you asked, a little sharper than you’d intended, but you didn’t appreciate the implication that you were making Steve miserable.

Bucky cut his eyes to you, then slid them to Yelena, giving your best friend a pointed look. You spun your head around to your other side in time to watch Yelena’s mouth flatten into a reproachful frown.

Suddenly, you got the distinct impression that your friends were having an argument about you, though you couldn’t even begin to wonder what it could be about, except that it had something to do with Steve.

It took a moment of silent arguing before Yelena and Bucky seemed to come to an agreement. Yelena looked at you, a gentle expression on her face that made your stomach drop with anxiety—which only worsened when she put her free hand on your arm that was still looped through hers.

However, before she could voice whatever bad news she clearly had to tell you, Bucky cut in.

“You know no one would be upset if you and Steve dated, right?” he asked bluntly, his eyes intense and searching when you turned to look at him. “We all know you like each other.”

If you’d been drinking hot chocolate at that moment, you would’ve spit it out all over Bucky and the display of pretty decorative knives.

Thankfully, you weren’t. But you still managed to sputter and open your mouth repeatedly while you searched for the words to address the preposterousness of Bucky’s statement.

“I do not—”

Whatever weak protest you were going to utter was cut short when Yelena blurted, “We know you kissed.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, the snowflakes that had been fluttering in your chest when you’d been standing with Steve sharpened into icy daggers of unease. You whirled on your best friend. “Pardon?”

“I saw you guys at the bar that night—I went back to get my scarf…” Yelena explained quickly, having the good grace to look apologetic, both for what she’d seen and for bringing it up. “I know you’ve liked Steve for ages, even if you haven’t said anything,” she rushed on, as if she thought if she spoke fast enough, it would make it easier to hear. “I was so excited it was finally happening that I blurted it out to Nat and she told Bucky—we were just so happy for you both.”

You floundered again, your mouth opening and closing as you processed your best friend’s words. It was almost too much to take in. Not only did everyone know what had happened between you and Steve that night at the bar, but it hadn’t changed anything. You’d told yourself for years that nothing could happen between you and Steve because it would throw off the whole balance of the group, but something had happened and it hadn’t done anything.

“I—”

Again, you were cut off, though it was seemingly Bucky’s turn, and your head swiveled back to him on your other side, feeling a bit like a broken bobblehead.

“He’s liked you too, for what it’s worth,” Bucky said. Your face must’ve conveyed disbelief because he went on. “He’s been talking about you since Yelena first introduced you to everyone, but he didn’t know how you felt,” he said, cutting his eyes to Yelena with the barest hint of a glare, “and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Hearing that Steve liked you was officially too much for you to bear. The dawning realization that you could’ve been with Steve without risking your friendships with Yelena, Bucky and Nat was like a yawning, desolate chasm waiting to swallow you whole. You’d lost so much time because you were so afraid of losing them all, and it hurt—it hurt enough that it took you a moment to realize Yelena was talking again.

“We thought someone had finally made a move, but then you guys were pretending like nothing happened,” she was saying, and you turned back to her, your mind so overwhelmed that you no longer felt cold, only numb. “None of us wanted to bring it up because, y’know, I wasn’t supposed to have seen it.” She shot you an apologetic grimace before plowing on, her expression turning gentle again. “You know we’d never stop being your friends, even if something happened with you and Steve, right?”

Your heart was racing, the fear of change quickly eclipsing the fear of losing any more time with Steve. You’d been friends with Yelena, Bucky, Nat and Steve for so long that you couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if the two of you started dating—let alone what might happen if you broke up. Shaking your head, you refused to acknowledge Yelena’s assurance. Even if they’d still be friends with you, nothing would be the same.

“Nothing happened,” you said vehemently, even as you choked on the words, the lie tasting like ash on your tongue. But you couldn’t seem to stop. “We were drunk, it meant nothing.”

But then Bucky—blunt, too-perceptive Bucky—broke into your thoughts and pulled you up short with another simple question.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone not unkind.

You opened your mouth to snap a quick answer, but the ‘yes’ died in your throat. Because of course something had happened, and of course it meant everything.

For the first time in weeks, you gave yourself permission to remember that night.

You’d tried to forget it—forget the softness of Steve’s lips on yours, forget the heat of his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, forget the pleasant scrape of his beard against your skin and the gentle way he’d held your face as he deepened the kiss.

Your first kiss with Steve Rogers had been glorious and messy and too short and too perfect—and it had meant everything to you.

But then you remembered what had happened after, the way you’d pulled away, even though you’d been the one to initiate the kiss in the first place, and panicked as soon as your mind had caught up with what you’d done.

The rest of the memory was a blur, the anxiety of the moment softening the edges, but you distinctly remembered extricating yourself from Steve—which had felt a little like cutting off a limb—before telling him it was a mistake and it couldn’t happen again.

Back at the market, you buried your face in your hands, and almost sobbed at the memory. “I’ve already ruined things,” you mumbled miserably into your frozen fingers, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

Bucky made a humming noise, as if he was considering your words. “Whatever happened between you two, it hasn’t changed Steve’s feelings for you,” he said, squeezing your wrist gently until you looked at him. He stared at you for a long moment, making sure you heard him. “So my question stands: When are you going to put him—and yourself—out of this misery?”

Your friends let you sit with that question for a silent moment, then Yelena selected one of the knives, claiming it was an early Christmas present for herself and made her way over to the checkout.

Steve was also apparently buying something, accepting a small wrapped package from the cashier that he slipped into his pocket. You were too overwhelmed by your thoughts to be curious about it anymore though.

You stood with Bucky near the entrance to the tent, waiting for your friends to finish their transactions while your mind swirled. You were grateful to your friend for leaving you alone with your thoughts, though you knew it was only because Bucky was confident he’d made his point.

And he had. Oh how he had.

Your mind and heart were a mess. You’d spent so many years telling yourself that you could never let anyone catch on about your feelings for Steve, because if they did, it would lead to the end of the friend group. But they’d all known for weeks, and nothing had changed.

Well, nothing except apparently Bucky and Yelena had taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if Natasha had been in on the ploy as well, distracting Steve purposefully so Yelena and Bucky could ambush you.

Still, you couldn’t fully silence the tiny voice of fear deep in your heart that insisted that if you and Steve got together, and things ended badly, you’d lose all your friends.

The rest of the group had known each other for so long and it had been more than a little daunting to figure out where you fit. Adding a romantic relationship into the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster—and if it ended so badly that everyone was forced to choose sides, you couldn’t imagine them choosing yours when they’d known Steve so much longer.

But as you watched Yelena finish paying for the knife, her words about always being your friend came back to you. She was your best friend—and you were hers. As if proving the point, she caught your eye and smiled impishly as she caught up with you, linking her arm through yours and tugging you back out into the market.

In that moment, something settled in you. Without fully realizing it, you’d always been a little insecure in your group of friends, always worried they would kick you out at the smallest infraction. But Yelena had said it plainly—they’d always be your friends, and you owed it to them to believe her, to trust her, because that was what friendship was.

That was what you had to do to have any kind of meaningful relationship.

As your group of friends wandered further down the row of stalls at the holiday market, you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept straying to Steve. Each time, you found him either looking at you already, or glancing your way within seconds, like he could feel your gaze.

When you looked at him, really looked at him, you noticed a little bit of hurt in his eyes. There was only a hint of it, like he was trying to hide it from you and everyone elese, but you could see it.

You wondered, briefly, how you’d missed it, but a part of you knew you’d been seeing it since that night at the bar. You’d just been ignoring it along with everything else swirling in his gaze.

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

You’d known you were making yourself miserable—of course you had. But the realization that you were making Steve miserable, even as he made a valiant effort to hide it, was what finally made your decision for you about what to do with everything Bucky and Yelena had told you.

No matter how scared you were that things might end badly, and you’d end up getting your heart broken and lose all your friends, you had to trust them when they said they’d always be there for you. You had to trust that Steve knew what he wanted—and that what he wanted was you.

The group came to another stop when Bucky spotted a specialty chocolate vendor and he ducked inside. Nat and Yelena followed him in—the latter giving you a meaningful look as you trailed behind before cutting her eyes to Steve. The message was clear and you nodded, giving her a playful shove that made your best friend cackle as she followed Bucky and Nat.

You stepped toward Steve where he hovered just outside the tent, and he shot you a knowing smile when he caught your eye.

“Still feeling like you’ve had enough chocolate?” he asked in a friendly tone, referencing your earlier joke. His beard twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile and it warmed your heart that he not only remembered the joke, but still found it funny.

The side of your mouth curved up in a lopsided grin, and you inched a tiny bit closer, just barely stepping into Steve’s personal space as you looked up at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had my fill,” you said, keeping your tone light. You took on a considering expression, tipping your head to the side and tapping a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. “For tonight, at least.”

Both of you laughed, but the December wind cut through the holiday market just then, and it reminded you of how cold your fingers were, especially out in the open. You quickly shoved your hand deep into the pocket of your coat, and Steve didn’t miss the movement, drifting even closer to you.

“Do you have any gloves, sunshine?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that had warm tingles of delight dancing down your spine, all the way to your toes.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Steve had moved close enough that you had to tip your head back to keep looking up at him, and you could feel the heat radiating off his larger body.

His blue eyes were sparkling in the warm, golden light of the market, and you could see the swirl of emotion in their depths that was only there when he looked at you. But there was a crease of concern between his brows, too, and you knew he was seconds away from offering to find you some gloves—or something else that would be chivalrous and perfectly friendly.

You realized, very suddenly, that if anything was going to happen between you and Steve, anything like what had happened at the bar, you needed to make the first move. Bucky had said Steve had been worried about making you uncomfortable before that night, and you were certain it had only worsened after the kiss you’d shared.

So, before he could say anything, you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?”

Steve’s brows lifted in surprise, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from trying to take the words back as soon as they’d slipped out of your mouth. And you were glad you did, because as the moment stretched on, and Steve realized you were serious, his brows lowered and his blue eyes darkened with interest.

“Ya sure about that, sunshine?” he asked, his voice low enough that you knew it was meant for only you. He ducked his head slightly, so he was nearly at your eye level, and held your gaze. “I wouldn’t want you doing anything you might regret.”

The words stung a little, but you knew you deserved them, especially after you’d told Steve that kissing him had been a mistake. So you held his gaze and stepped even closer to him, until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly, letting Steve see the honesty in your open expression. “I know what I’m doing and I—this is what I want.” You were proud of yourself for only stumbling once, and held your breath as you waited for Steve’s response.

The corners of Steve’s mouth flickered in an eager grin, but he wiped the expression away, like he was worried that if he appeared too excited, he’d scare you away. You felt a pang of regret, and it doubled your determination to show Steve that you weren’t going to panic and run away again.

Pulling your hands from your pockets, you brushed your fingertips against Steve’s stomach in a silent reminder of your question.

“Can I?” you asked, your voice breathless with anticipation.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his eyes molten with heat as he stared down at you. “Go ‘head, sunshine.”

You were cold enough that you didn’t waste any more time, slipping your fingers beneath the hem of Steve’s soft sweater and pressing your frigid fingertips to the warm, smooth skin you found.

“Fuck, your fingers are freezing,” Steve rumbled, the muscles of his abs contracting beneath your touch like they were trying flee. But before you could apologize and pull away, Steve’s hands flattened over yours outside his sweater, pressing your palms against the hard-packed plane of his abs. “Good thing ya got me to keep you warm, sunshine,” he teased, his voice so full of charm that you melted into him.

“Yeah, good thing,” you echoed in a whisper, the edges of your mouth curling up into a pleased smile. You shimmied closer to Steve, watching the way his blue eyes sparkled with affection as he held your gaze captive.

He wrapped you up against him, holding you in the loose cage of his warms while your fingertips stroked idly against his smooth skin. You wanted to let them wander further beneath his sweater and explore the wonders of Steve’s bare chest, but you managed to keep the urge in check since you were in public—though it was a near thing.

“You know what I like to do most in the winter?” you asked Steve, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two of you. The sounds of the market all around you were a distant soundtrack.

“What?” he asked indulgently, squeezing you slightly in his arms.

“Curl up in bed and snuggle on a snowy day,” you said with a sly smile. And then, as if a thought had just occurred to you, you tilted your head to the side. “Hey, is your bed comfy? Do you have a lot of nice warm blankets and good pillows?”

A grin pulled across Steve’s face even though he was fighting it, trying to look like he was taking your questions under serious consideration.

“Y’know, I think it’s very comfy,” he said, giving you a knowing look. He’d obviously picked up on the not-so-subtle cue that you might want him to take you back to his place, and you appreciated that he was sticking to the bit. “But it sounds like you’re an expert, so I think you should come over and be the judge of that.”

An answering grin curved your mouth and you murmured, “I’d like that.”

Then, before you could let your fear get the best of you again, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, your lips brushing against Steve’s beard as you moved to whisper in his ear.

You shivered at the physical reminder of the coarse hair rasping deliciously against your cheeks when he’d kissed you and it took a moment to remember what you’d been about to say. When you did, you couldn’t hold in your smirk.

“Did I mention I do my best snuggling naked?”

“Sunshine.”

The nickname was uttered in a gruff, rumbling rasp, like the sound of a plow on snowy streets. It was so deep and delicious, your toes curled in delight and your mouth pulled into a full-blown grin.

You barely had time to pull away before Steve was wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and towing you in for a kiss.

Steve’s mouth was wonderfully soft and exquisitely warm and achingly familiar against yours. He wasted no time licking along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance that you happily gave him.

Your fingers curled around Steve’s sides beneath his sweater, digging greedily into the soft skin at his waist while you kissed him back feverishly, trying to close every gap between your bodies.

“Fuck, how does this feel so much better than I remember?” Steve growled against your lips, his hand on the back of your neck tilting your head just the way he wanted so he could lick even deeper into your mouth.

Your breathy, delirious laugh was swallowed by his all-consuming kiss, the sound turning into a helpless moan.

God, he was right, it did feel so much better than you remembered to have Steve’s mouth on yours, and you couldn’t fathom how you’d run away from him before because, in that moment, the last thing you wanted to do was stop. You wanted to kiss Steve for the rest of your life.

“I don’t know, but Steve, please, don’t stop,” you murmured when he finally let you up for air. You tried to catch your breath while he was busy pressing insatiable kisses to your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your lips.

Pulling your hands from beneath his sweater, your no longer freezing fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, pulling him closer while at the same time pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes again. Your bodies slotted together even more perfectly, and you moaned softly into his mouth as you tugged him in for another kiss.

Steve kissed you harder, holding you tight to his chest like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear on the wintry wind. In turn, you held him just as fiercely, your nails raking through the beard on the underside of his jaw and tugging lightly to bring him closer until he was rumbling a pleased sound deep in his chest.

“Get a room!”

The perfect bubble that had formed around and Steve abruptly popped, the sounds of the bustling holiday market rushing in along with the December chill and you pulled away, your first instinct to worry about what your friends would think. But then you caught the look on Steve’s face.

He was staring at you with such a blissed out expression, his blue eyes dark and hazy, a pleased smile on his kiss-swollen lips, that you couldn’t help but relax and melt back into him. You took your time to press a sweet kiss to his lips before turning to your friends.

Natasha, Yelena and Bucky all wore matching smug grins. Nat was even popping little chocolate candies into her mouth like she was enjoying the show.

“Oh no, please don’t stop on our account,” she called to you and Steve, gesturing with her hand for you both to continue. The whole group burst into raucous laughter.

Cracking up and shaking your head, you buried your face in Steve’s rumbling chest, feeling a little shy about being caught making out so heatedly by your friends. But you felt relief, too, that no one was upset—that all your friends were happy for you and Steve.

When you’d finally gotten ahold of yourself, you tipped your face up and caught Steve’s eye, giving him a sly smile that had his expression instantly darkening with a hunger that made you pulse with desire.

“So about that comfy bed of yours…” you murmured, just for him to hear. When he nodded once, quickly, to acknowledge he remembered it, you went on. “I’d love to see it if you’re ready to go?”

The implication of your question was clear and Steve clutched you tighter to his chest, capturing your lips for a brief, hot kiss that did more to warm you from the inside out than any of the hot chocolate you’d consumed that evening.

“Sunshine, I’ve been ready to take you home for years,” he rasped against your mouth, the honesty in his voice making you smile.

When Steve pulled away, he tugged you over to your group of friends and told them you were heading home—yes, together, he confirmed. All three of them murmured encouraging words in your ear as you hugged them goodbye, and you could tell by the pink tinging Steve’s cheeks that they were doing the same to him.

Once farewells were said, Steve snagged your hand and laced your fingers together. As you walked to the subway, he tucked your clasped hands into the pocket of his overcoat, and then your other into the crook of his elbow, where he covered it with his palm to keep you warm.

Steve held you tucked into his side the whole way back to his place while he made idle conversation, asking about the latest books you’d read and movies you’d watched. He only let go when it came time to pull out his keys and unlock his door.

There was a giddy, electric energy between the two of you as Steve helped you out of your coat and hung it up. Your gaze kept drifting back to him while you took off your boots and he hung up his overcoat. Once done, he stepped close, toeing out of his shoes next to where you’d dropped your boots.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Steve asked, his voice rough and a little uneven, like he was nervous. It made you smile, settling your own nerves to know he was right there with you.

You stepped further into Steve’s space, your fingers sneaking beneath the hem of his sweater and giggling when he sucked in a sharp breath. He’d made an excellent effort to keep your fingers warm on the way home, but the December cold had still snuck in.

It was a good thing Steve was there to warm you up again.

“I think I’d just like to see this comfy bed of yours,” you murmured, pushing up onto your tiptoes and kissing Steve.

The two of you lingered in the entryway of Steve’s apartment for long minutes, kissing and learning what made each other gasp and moan. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, sinking in hard enough to make you whimper before relenting and soothing the sting away with his tongue.

Meanwhile, you let your hands wander further beneath Steve’s sweater, finding a light trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his slacks. You raked your nails through it, and relished the pleased sound that rumbled in his chest.

Warm, wet desire was gathering between your thighs, and it wasn’t long before you squirmed impatiently against Steve, needing more.

By the time Steve broke the kiss and spun you around, his heavy hands dropping to your hips to guide you through his apartment, your panties were damp and you were aching for something only Steve could give you.

Both of you moved quickly as you let Steve lead you to his bedroom, pausing just inside the darkened room while he flicked on a light.

A soft, golden glow emanated from two lamps set on low wooden tables on either side of the massive bed. Curiously, your gaze roved over the room, taking in the earthy colors and tasteful design.

It seemed Steve hadn’t only gotten his wardrobe and appearance together—he’d also made his home a place that was warm and welcoming and entirely him.

The king-size bed was swathed in a thick, forest green comforter with dark charcoal sheets, a veritable pile of pillows at the head that looked far too enticing. The rest of the room was furnished with a dark wooden bookcase and dresser that matched the bed frame and side tables. There were even some vintage photographs of Brooklyn decorating the wall, along with some framed pictures on dresser.

Wandering over, you picked up one of the photographs. It was from the first autumn after you’d met Yelena and the others. The group had rented a car and gone to a farm upstate to go apple picking and enjoy all the other autumnal delights the state had to offer.

In the photo, you were tucked into Steve’s side on a bale of hay, ready for the hayride the group had decided to go on, with Yelena on your other side. There was a blanket draped over your laps, and Steve’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders. The three of you were beaming at the camera.

“Do you remember that trip?” Steve asked, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder while he peered at the photograph.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. Then you winced as you remembered something about the trip. “Wasn’t this the time I fell asleep on your shoulder on the way home and drooled all over your jacket?”

Steve laughed huskily in your ear.

“It is,” he confirmed, brushing a kiss to your cheek before murmuring. “I didn’t wash it for a month.”

It was your turn to laugh, though the sound was more of a surprised exhalation as you twisted your upper body so you could see his face better.

“What?”

Steve grimaced, wrinkling his nose and scuffing a hand against the back of his neck sheepishly, like he regretted admitting that to you.

“It was more because it smelled like you than because of the, y’know, drool,” he explained, his tone a tiny bit defensive. But then he looked at you, finding your face still frozen in surprise and his expression softened. “I’ve liked you since I met you, sunshine.”

It wasn’t anything Bucky hadn’t already told you, but it still felt like an entirely new revelation coming straight from Steve, and all you could think to say was, “Oh.”

You turned back to the photo, still held in your hand, and all you could think about was the fact that you had the same one tacked up on the corkboard over your desk. You wondered if Steve liked it for the same reason you did—because it made the two of you look like a happy couple, even with Yelena sitting next to you.

“I liked you too,” you confessed in a small voice.

Steve was quiet for a moment, his hold on you loosening slightly as you stepped forward to put the photograph back on his dresser. But when that was done, he towed you back in until your back was pressed to his chest.

“Liked?” he asked, enunciating the ‘d’ at the end of the word.

Your mouth flickered in a smile and you turned around in his arms. Your hands smoothed over his broad shoulders while you leaned into him, your soft curves pressing into the hard planes of his body.

“I liked you then, and I like you now, Steve,” you said, holding your breath as you stared up at him. Even knowing he felt the same way about you, it was still scary to lay your heart bare for the first time, and you waited eagerly for his response.

An exhale gusted from Steve and you couldn’t help but note the relief in his expression, even as he grinned wide.

“That’s good to hear, sunshine, because I like you, too.”

“Good,” you said with a grin, dragging Steve down for a too-brief kiss. “Now, will you take me to bed already?”

Steve’s laughter was muffled as he kissed you again, guiding you around and walking you backward until the backs of your legs hit the bed. He didn’t break the kiss as he lowered you to the soft mattress and helped you slide up the bed until your shoulders settled into the pile of pillows at the head.

Your arms wrapped around Steve and you pulled him down on top of you while he braced himself so he didn’t crush you. One of his legs slid between your thighs and he lowered himself down on top of you until his bulge pressed into your stomach. Your belly swooped with excitement and your pulse thrummed with desire.

Hiking one of your legs up around his waist, you writhed beneath Steve, grinding your hot core against his thigh through your jeans.

You couldn’t seem to stop touching him, your hands sketching the exact measure of his body, and he seemed to be doing the same. Steve’s hands couldn’t stay still, sliding up and down your sides before finally pushing beneath your sweater.

His warm, calloused fingers stroked covetously over your skin, and you felt extra sensitive wherever he touched you, his every caress sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body.

“Steve,” you whined, wrenching your mouth from his to drag in a much-needed breath. Even still, you craved more and your body rocked up into his, grinding against his thigh while his bulge pressed insistently into your belly.

“You feel so good, sunshine,” he rasped as he kissed a trail along your jaw and down to your neck. The scratch of his beard against your skin had you shuddering beneath his big body. “Can I…?” he asked, his fingertips teasing along the edge of your bra beneath your sweater.

“Yes—please,” you gasped. Your own fingers curled into the soft fabric of Steve’s sweater between his shoulder blades and you tugged on it, trying to pull it over his head.

Steve chuckled into your neck before he sat up and yanked his sweater off for you, baring the broad expanse of his chest. You caught glimpses of soft brown hair dusted across his pecs and endless swaths of golden skin before he was helping you out of your sweater.

You grumbled disgruntledly when your view of Steve was cut off as he tugged your sweater over your head, then as he leaned close to unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere in the room. You only dragged your eyes away from Steve’s perfect chest when he made a low, almost anguished sound.

He looked a little dazed, his eyes staring down at your bare breasts. Your chest was heaving slightly, making them bounce gently, and Steve looked almost hypnotized by the sight.

Snorting to yourself, you curled your fingers around his firm biceps and tugged him back down on top of you, whimpering when your nipples brushed against the hair on his chest. They pebbled as pleasure spiked through your body, settling heavily between your thighs and making even more wetness soak into your panties.

The movement had broken Steve from his trance and he began kissing from your neck down your chest. The rasp of his beard over your clavicle sent a delicious shiver down your spine, making you keen and tremble beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” he rumbled gruffly into your skin. He buried his face in the valley between your breasts, groping your supple flesh in his big hands while pressing teasing kisses and gentle bites to your skin. “You’re so perfect, sunshine.”

You whined a needy sound, reacting to his touch as much as his awe-filled words, and threaded your fingers through Steve’s soft hair. You held him tightly to your chest, wordlessly pleading for more, and he enthusiastically indulged the request.

Steve wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked deeply, drawing so much of you into his hot mouth, it felt like he was doing his damndest to devour you. You were already so sensitive for him that it felt like there was a direct line connecting your sensitive peak to your clit, and you cried out in pleasure, your spine arching up off the bed and pushing your chest further in Steve’s face.

He grinned, doing a poor job of hiding his self-satisfied expression in your soft tits, but you didn’t begrudge him the smugness—not when he nibbled at your hardened nipple so good, it made your hips buck up from the bed. A whine slipped from your lips when you realized you no longer had his thigh to grind against, your legs kicking restlessly at the sheets.

After giving the same torturous treatment to your other nipple, wringing even more whimpering whines and desperate keening sounds from your mouth, Steve began kissing his way further down your body. He nipped playfully at your belly before lifting his head to catch your eye.

It took you a moment to blink them into focus enough to see him clearly.

“I’ve been dreaming about your taste for years, sunshine,” he rumbled, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and tugging just enough that you knew he was asking if he could take them off. “Please, can I…?”

You were already nodding, your fingers fumbling over the button of your jeans. Steve seemed just as eager as you, gently pushing your hand aside and taking over as he thumbed it through the hole in the denim and pulled your zipper down. Then he was peeling your jeans down over you hips and thighs, taking your panties off at the same time.

In only a few seconds, you were stripped bare for the first time in front of Steve Rogers, and if it wasn’t for the shuddered exhale that gusted past his lips and the sizable bulge twitching in the front of his slacks, it might’ve occurred to you to feel a little insecure.

But before those thoughts could even begin to creep in, Steve was dragging his hands up your thighs and spreading your legs with a reverent look on his face, giving an appreciative rumble deep in his chest as he raked his eyes up the naked length of your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sunshine,” he rasped, pressing his face between your thighs and taking a deep breath.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to wonder at how you smelled because Steve was licking his tongue into the seam of your pussy, groaning like he’d eaten something delicious.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled before diving in deeper, burying his face against your cunt and eating you out like he was a dying man and you were his last meal.

In no time at all, he had you crying out, your hips bucking up off the bed as pleasure swirled through your body. It was all you could do to try to stop yourself from humping against his handsome face.

Steve’s thick biceps banded around your thighs and he held you spread open while he feasted on you, his eyes staring up past your quivering belly and heaving chest to watch your reactions. He sucked and nibbled and flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit, paying attention to what had you writhing and moaning your pleasure beneath him.

He licked into your pussy, fucking you with his tongue until you were squirming and panting on the bed, your thighs tensing and trembling with your building release.

Needing something to hold on to, you threaded your fingers into Steve’s hair, holding his head against your greedy pussy and rocking your hips into him. You moaned loudly, unabashedly, grinding against his mouth and beard as you neared the edge.

“Oh god, Steve, ‘m so close, please—please, don’t stop, ‘m gonna come,” you babbled, your spine arching up off the bed as you threw your head back into the pile of soft pillows. “Fuck, please, please, please!”

It was clear that Steve was a quick study when it came to your body, and he put what he’d learned to good use, sucking hard on your clit and flicking his tongue over it, steadily driving your pleasure higher until, finally, it crested. And then he pushed you right over the edge.

Your fingers fisted in Steve’s hair and you humped shamelessly against his face as you came with a cry of his name—“Steve!” Your body tightened, and then loosened as wave after wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, making you shiver intensely while Steve’s mouth worked you through your release.

When the pleasure began to ebb, you melted back into the soft blankets on Steve’s bed, a dazed smile curving your mouth. Steve eased you down with gentle sweeps of his tongue and soft kisses to your inner thighs, murmuring sweet words to you about how good you tasted on his tongue.

It wasn’t until you whimpered from overstimulation that Steve stopped. He pressed one last kiss to the top of your mound before pushing himself up. His happy grin when he saw the sated, content expression on your face made your heart skip a beat in your chest. He was just so damn handsome.

“Good?” Steve asked, though you knew from the self-satisfied look in his eye that he already knew the answer to his question.

Still, you nodded. “So good,” you purred, stretching and reaching for him. Your fingers curled into coarse hair on the underside of his jaw and you tugged him up your body for a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, and his beard was so drenched in your juices, it made your own cheeks damp. A groan worked its way up your throat at the filthiness of the kiss, and you pulled Steve closer, letting him muffle the sound as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Even though Steve had just made you come harder than anyone else in your entire life, renewed desire was beginning to bloom in your core, the heat of your arousal already building again. Distractedly, you recognized that you’d never felt the way you did for anyone but Steve—insatiable, unwilling to let the night end just yet.

When Steve’s hard bulge knocked against your hip, a devious smirk curled your lips and you wasted no time trailing your fingers down his bare, golden chest to grope his cock through his slacks. He was hard and heavy in your hand, and an excited thrill raced down your spine at the thought of taking him in your mouth.

Steve groaned against your lips, his big body shuddering when you squeezed and stroked him through the thick material of his pants. So you did it again, rubbing him with your palm until you felt his hard length jump against your fingers, like his body was just as eager for your touch as the rest of him.

“We don’t have to do more,” Steve said, his voice a little breathless. “I-I mean, you don’t have to return the favor or anything. I’m good to just go to sleep if that’s what you want.”

Steve’s words were honorable, but you didn’t want to sleep.

You pushed at his larger body until he flipped onto his back. Following after him, you kissed down his chest, taking a moment to nuzzle in the soft hair scattered across his pecs before you lifted your head and caught his eye, letting him see the desire in yours.

“I bet I’ve dreamed about sucking your cock just as much as you dreamed about eating my pussy,” you whispered huskily, holding his gaze determinedly while you shifted down his body until your face was level with his bulge. You mouthed at his hard length through his slacks. “Please, Steve, can I…?”

“Yeah—yes—fuck, sunshine, you can do whatever you want,” he rasped, helping you undo his button and fly, his fingers trembling. Then he lifted his hips so you could pull his pants down.

You felt like you were unwrapping the most perfect Christmas present as you tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his thick, toned thighs. You even let out a little gasp of delight when Steve’s cock bounced free, marveling at the sheer masculine beauty of it.

Impatiently, you pulled his clothes the rest of the way off, pausing only to kiss his thighs, enjoying the softness of his leg hair against your lips and cheeks, before returning to his cock.

Taking him in hand, you circled your fingers around the thick shaft and gave him a loose pump, watching how he bucked his hips into your fist from just that little bit of touching. Steve’s hands were fisted in the blankets on the bed, like he was holding himself back from touching you, and you decided you want to make the man—your man—lose himself in pleasure, just like he’d done to you.

You ducked down and licked the tip of Steve’s cock, humming in delight as the salty, musky taste of his precum burst on your tongue. The vibrations made Steve groan and you hid a self-satisfied smirk against his cock, before refocusing on your task.

You pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down Steve’s shaft, staring up his hard, firm body while he watched you worship his cock. His cheeks were tinged pink, a light sheen of sweat dotting his brow and his eyes were so dark, his pupils blown so wide, they looked like the navy blue night sky on a winter evening.

When you ducked down further, taking his balls into your mouth and suckling greedily, Steve’s gaze widened and his cock twitched in your hand.

“Sunshine,” he rasped, the nickname sounding like a plea for mercy as he groaned loudly. “Ya keep sucking my balls and I’m gonna come way too soon.”

With a smirk, you gave his sensitive sac one last little suckle before letting it fall from your lips, then you licked up the length of his cock.

“Can’t have that,” you quipped, shooting him a smug grin. You pressed a kiss to the tip and wrapped your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth and sucking hard enough to make his hips buck up off the bed.

Another anguished sound wrenched free from Steve’s lips.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he settled back down, one of his hands coming to rest on the crown of your head—not pushing you down or pulling you away, just holding you like he couldn’t help but touch you.

For a moment, you focused on Steve’s cock, pulling back before taking him deeper into your mouth, using your tongue to swirl around the head and trace the veins decorating his shaft while your fist stroked him. But when you flicked your gaze up to Steve, you found him watching you with adoration in his eyes.

“You’re amazing, sunshine,” he rumbled when he noticed he had your attention, one side of his mouth pulling up in a lopsided grin. “You’re gorgeous—and you look so fucking hot with my cock in your mouth.”

The corners of your mouth flickered in a pleased smile as his praise washed over you, and you closed your eyes, soaking it in. When you opened them again, you redoubled your efforts on Steve, bobbing up and down on his length at a steady pace while you pumped him in your fist.

You lost yourself in the pleasure of sucking Steve’s cock, and before long, you could feel yourself growing wet all over again. Your inner walls clenched pathetically around nothing while your mouth was filled with his big dick, but you didn’t want to stop.

However, before you could make Steve come down your throat, his hands gently gripped your head and he pulled you up off his cock. With his considerable strength, Steve hauled you back up the bed and rolled you over onto your back beneath him, bracing himself on one hand while the other slide between your thighs. He bit off a curse when he felt how wet you were.

“Christ, sunshine, ya got this wet from sucking my cock?” he asked, a note of teasing in his tone that had heat coursing through your body. Before you could respond, though, his mouth found yours for a kiss.

You were certain he must’ve been able to taste himself on your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. He was too determined to devour your lips and swallow your moan while he speared you open with two fingers, capturing your cry of pleasure.

“Oh god, Steve,” you mumbled against his mouth, your hips rocking into his hand and fucking his fingers. “Please, I need you—I need you to fuck me.” Your hand was fisted in Steve’s soft hair and you clung to him, your entire being straining to get closer while still taking all the pleasure his fingers offered.

“Thank fuck—I need you so goddamned bad, sunshine,” he groaned, easing his fingers from your dripping hole and rolling onto his back so he could reach for something.

A moment later, you heard the sound of a wooden drawer snap closed and he rolled back on top of you, the square foil packet of a condom held in his fingers.

“Ya wanna do the honors?” he asked, his grin so charming and so like the Steve you’d known for so many years that it took your breath away.

But there was a comfort and an ease to the moment because you were there with Steve—your Steve—and you laughed at his silly offer. You were shaking your head even as you took the packet and tore it open, tossing the foil aside and making quick work of rolling the condom onto his cock.

When you were done, you gave the base of his shaft an affectionate squeeze and Steve chuckled, capturing your lips in a kiss while he shifted on top of you, pressing his knees between your legs and spreading your thighs to make room for his big, broad body.

You opened happily for him, kissing him back while your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs. Together, you lined your bodies up until Steve’s cock lay heavily against your mound, kissing lazily all the while.

After a moment, Steve broke the kiss, pushing himself up with one hand while the other fisted his hard length and held himself away from the place where you ached for him to fill. He stared deep into your eyes and gave you a serious look, a little bit of anxiety swirling in his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes roving over your face like he was searching for any hidden remnant of hesitance on your part—any sign that you might run, you realized. “Because I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you for so long, that if you tell me tomorrow this was a mistake…” Steve paused, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed, “it’ll break my fucking heart, sunshine.”

Steve’s voice cracked a little on the pet name and it made your heart split open in your chest. You didn’t know if you’d ever forgive yourself for hurting Steve the way you did, for saying those things you didn’t mean and trying to push him away when all you’d wanted was to pull him closer.

You decided then and there to make it up to him—and that began with being honest with him. Always.

So you threaded your fingers into Steve’s beard until you were cupping his face and you stared him directly in the eye as you answered his question.

“I’m sure, Steve,” you said firmly, certainty resonating in your tone. “I was scared before—I’ve wanted you for so long that the thought of finally having you was terrifying.” You gave him a tremulous, apologetic smile, and his expression softened. “But I’m sure about this,” you said again, your voice stronger. “I’m sure about you, and I’m sure about us.”

When you finished your confession, Steve’s eyes closed and he exhaled a long, relieved breath. You pulled him down for a kiss, and it was a gentle thing—tentative as you both savored the vulnerability you shared, physically and emotionally, thanking one another for the trust that took.

It was only when the kiss ended and Steve pressed his forehead to yours that he pushed inside you for the first time, his thick cock sinking deep into your pussy with one determined, inexorable thrust.

Your arms and legs were wrapped around him already and you clung to Steve as you cried out, tears of emotion pricking at the backs of your eyes even as pleasure radiated through your body.

“You ok?” Steve asked softly and the question—so gentle and genuine—had a tear spilling onto your cheek. He brushed it away.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” you admitted in a thick voice, tugging Steve’s mouth back to yours, kissing him deeply.

Together, you gave yourselves over to your instincts. Steve pulled his hips back until only half of him remained inside, and your heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him to plunge deep into you again. He slid home, and both of you moaned.

Steve rocked into you with slow, thorough thrusts, but when you moaned for more, he drew back more each time and thrust harder. It wasn’t long before he was fucking you in hard, deep strokes that hit all the most perfect spots inside you, his mouth kissing your cheeks and neck and anywhere he could reach while he held you pinned to his chest, his hips working his cock deep into your cunt.

With every hard thrust, you clung more tightly to Steve, holding him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers buried in his hair, thankful he’d grown it long enough that you could grip it tight in your fists. Your body writhed beneath his bigger form, using your legs draped around his thighs to meet his thrusts.

For what seemed like forever, you and Steve were nothing more than two writhing bodies trying to get closer, deeper, tighter together, like your hearts were straining to become one. And you were so consumed with pleasure that it wasn’t until you were right on the precipice of your release that you realized you were close.

“Steve,” you gasped, trying to tell him you were going to come, and just then he changed the angle of his hips, stealing the words from your lips.

He was driving his cock so deep into your cunt and grinding against your clit so exquistiely that you saw stars. Your body shook under a deluge of pleasure and the coil of tension twisted tighter in your core.

“Come for me, sunshine,” Steve rumbled, fucking you hard and deep and so perfectly you knew you were forever ruined for any other man. “Be a good girl and come on my cock before I fucking explode.”

His filthy words were your undoing.

You shattered apart, sharp, sparkling pleasure devastating your body and mind while you screamed Steve’s name as you came. Your whole body clenched tight, clamping down on Steve’s cock hard enough that he grunted into your neck, then you succumbed to the pleasure as it dragged you under its thrall, whimpers and moans spilling from your lips mindlessly.

Steve’s hands gripped your hips tightly, and he rutted into your clenching pussy with wild thrusts as he chased his own release. He found it only a moment after yours, groaning your name against your cheek while his hips stuttered and shunted forward, burying himself balls-deep in your fluttering pussy while he came, his cock throbbing deep in your cunt.

You held each other close as you came down from your releases. Your fingers stroked through Steve’s soft hair, the strands damp with sweat, and twirled around the gently curling ends. Meanwhile, his hands were petting up and down your sides, his face buried in the pillow beside your head while he rumbled muffled words of praise in your ear.

Eventually, Steve sat up, pulling his softening cock as gently from your body as he could manage, watching your face closely for any hint of pain. You were a little sore, but when he pulled free, your body mourned the loss of him more than anything else.

He quickly disposed of the condom and wrapper in his bathroom, then came back with a warm wet washcloth. He cleaned you up with gentle caresses, pressing a kiss to your hip and nipping playfully at your belly until you were giggling and pushing him away, your body too tired and sated and oversensitive for such treatment—but you were grinning all the same.

When he was done, you rose from the bed and went to the bathroom while he padded to his dresser. After you were done, you found Steve relaxing on his bed in only a pair of lounge pants, his chiseled chest deliciously bare and biceps bulging with his hands tucked behind his head.

You paused, raking your eyes over his gorgeous chest, only catching his gaze when he made a deep, rumbling sound of good-natured warning.

“You better put on some pajamas, sunshine,” Steve started, his blue eyes heated and a playful smile flickering at the edges of his mouth, almost hidden by his beard. “Unless you want me to fuck you again.”

The threat in his tone was flirtatious and you almost took him up on the offer. But you knew that if Steve fucked you again, you’d be sore the next day, and you didn’t want that. Huffing a petulant sigh, you moved to the pile of folded clothes Steve had left on the corner of the bed.

The heat in Steve’s eyes didn’t abate as he watched you pull one of his shirts over your head, tugging the hem down until it covered your ass and part of your thigh. You didn’t have any clean panties, so you crawled into bed like that, your eyes finding Steve and watching as the heat of desire softened into the warmth of affection.

The two of you slid beneath the blankets and you curled up at Steve’s side, your head on his chest. You fell asleep quickly and easily to the sound of his gentle breathing, and the steady drumming of his heart beating beneath your cheek.

The next morning, you woke to snow flurries drifting past the windows of Steve’s bedroom, the flakes having covered his neighborhood in a blanket of white while you slept. You pressed a happy smile against Steve’s sternum, the expression deepening when you felt his heart skip a beat at your closeness.

“So, is my bed comfy enough for you, sunshine?” he asked in the deep rasp of a man who’d just woken up. Using his arms looped around your waist, he pulled you on top of him, his mouth finding yours for a decadent good morning kiss before he let you answer.

“Hmm,” you hummed playfully in thought, smiling against his mouth while you pulled him closer with your fingers curled into the scruffy, coarse hair of his beard. “It could use a few more pillows—and maybe a nice throw blanket.”

“Consider it done,” he murmured, rolling you beneath his broad body and sliding his hips between your thighs. His morning wood brushed against your bare core and you moaned into his mouth. “Anything you want, you just tell me, sunshine,” he rumbled in between slow, drugging kisses, his hips rolling leisurely against you. “I want my girlfriend to feel comfortable here.”

“Girlfriend?” you gasped breathlessly, your heart beating harder with excitement while he pulled away to kiss down your neck. You could feel Steve’s grin against the side of your throat before he pressed a kiss against your thrumming pulse.

“You wanna be my girlfriend, don’t ya, sunshine?” he asked.

It was only because you’d known Steve for so long, and were so determined never to hurt him again, that you heard the tiny thread of anxiety in his tone. You squeezed him tightly in your arms and rushed to answer, eager to put his worry to rest.

“Yes!” you cried happily. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend, Steve.” You twisted your fingers in his soft hair and tugged his mouth up from your neck. “Now kiss me, boyfriend,” you murmured and Steve, obligingly, crushed his mouth to yours in a blissful kiss.

You and Steve reveled in your new relationship, spending a long time in bed just kissing and exploring each other and making up for lost time before your growling stomachs finally made you get up.

After breakfast, Steve seemed to remember something and he padded to the entryway, coming back with the box he’d acquired at the holiday market the evening before. He handed it to you, saying there was no way he’d be able to wait until Christmas to give it to you.

You opened the present, finding a simple silver chain and a stunningly engraved sun pendant within. You were so overwhelmed with happiness that tears sprang to your eyes and you had to hastily wipe them away.

“A little bit of sunshine for my sunshine,” Steve murmured against your temple before pressing a kiss to your skin.

At your insistence, he helped you put the necklace on and you thanked him graciously—with words and kisses. Then you towed Steve back to bed, and the two of you gave in to the pleasure of your bodies until you collapsed, sated once again.

All day, you couldn’t stop smiling. You were doing one of your favorite things, snuggling on a snowy day, with one of your favorite people in the world—your boyfriend. And you were making plans for the future, talking about what you were going to get your other friends for Christmas and arguing about how to best decorate Steve’s apartment for the holiday.

The whole time, you couldn’t help but think about how Christmas would always be extra special for you from that year on. It was a wonderful holiday but, more importantly to you, it was when you and Steve Rogers finally admitted your feelings for one another and took the first step toward a forever together.

So, this time of year would always be your favorite time of year.

december daze challenge masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #navy and roo's sleepover #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #witchywithwhiskeywork #december daze #friends to lovers

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societyfolklore · 27 days ago

Text

Stay Still

Title: Stay Still (Prompt- how is the mistletoe following you around) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: The Avengers’ Christmas party takes an unexpected turn when mistletoe starts mysteriously following you around. You assume it’s Tony or Peter playing pranks, but the truth is much darker—and more deliberate. Bucky has been strategically placing the mistletoe, his plan as subtle as a super soldier’s smirk. Will you figure it out before the mistletoe gets its way?

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: /Warnings // Explicit Content //1 8+, Minors DNI, smut, Unprotected sex. Probably others.. Not Beta read.

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge – Day 15)

The annual Avengers Christmas party was, as always, a grand affair. Tony had outdone himself again, decking the compound with extravagant decorations and enough lights to compete with the New York skyline. Mistletoe hung in strategic spots, its placement suspiciously coincidental for maximum awkwardness. You’d rolled your eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all when you arrived, but as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice a pattern.

The mistletoe seemed to be… following you.

At first, you brushed it off as a prank. Tony or Peter was likely behind it. The first time you noticed, you were standing near the snack table, chatting with Natasha. A soft chuckle behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see Bucky leaning against the counter, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’ve got something over your head, doll,” he said, nodding upward.

You glanced up, spotting the offending mistletoe dangling directly above you. “Very funny,” you muttered, glaring at the green sprig as if it had personally insulted you. “Where’s Peter? This has his fingerprints all over it.”

Bucky shrugged, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. “Right,” you said, grabbing your drink and moving to another part of the room. But an hour later, when you were talking to Sam near the fireplace, there it was again—dangling innocently above you like it had every right to be there.

“Seriously?” you groaned, pointing up at the mistletoe. Sam burst out laughing, drawing the attention of half the room.

Bucky, conveniently nearby, chimed in. “Guess the universe is trying to tell you something.”

“Yeah,” you shot back. “That I need to get a restraining order against a plant.”

Bucky’s laugh was low and warm, and for a moment, you forgot your irritation as his tone stroked up your spine like honey. He looked good tonight—too good. His dark sweater clung to his frame, his hair tossed back. You tore your gaze away, determined not to let him distract you.

As the night went on, the mistletoe’s antics grew increasingly suspicious. It didn’t matter where you went—whether you were grabbing a drink, sitting on the couch, or even stepping outside for fresh air—it always seemed to find you. By the third or fourth occurrence, you were convinced someone was actively moving it.

“Alright,” you said aloud, hands on your hips. “Who’s behind this? Tony? Peter? Clint?”

“Why are you so sure it’s a prank Doll?” Bucky asked, appearing beside you with perfect timing, as usual.

“Because mistletoe doesn’t grow legs and follow people around,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

“Maybe it’s just good luck,” he said with a shrug, his smirk firmly in place. “Or maybe it likes you.”

You rolled your eyes, but his teasing tone sent a flutter through your chest. Bucky had been hovering around you all night, and while you couldn’t prove he was involved, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.

Later that evening, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, enjoying a rare moment of quiet. You leaned against the counter, the cool surface grounding you as you tried to shake off the lingering tension from the party. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to Bucky—his smirk, his teasing, the way his eyes seemed to follow you no matter where you went. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about him before, but tonight he felt different, like a storm you couldn’t outrun.

The door creaked open, and you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. The air shifted, heavier now, charged with something unspoken.

“You hiding in here?” Bucky’s voice was low, a teasing edge laced with something darker.

“Maybe,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “Or maybe I’m trying to escape the world’s most persistent mistletoe.”

“Funny you mention that,” he said, his boots thudding softly against the floor as he stepped closer. You turned to face him fully, only to find him standing directly beneath the mistletoe, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the dim kitchen light.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, gesturing at the offending plant. “Did you bring that in here with you?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his smirk widening into something sharper. “Or maybe it just knows where it’s supposed to be.”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “Alright, Barnes. Spill. What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” you said, stepping closer despite your better judgment. “You’ve been hovering around me all night, and somehow, that thing”—you pointed at the mistletoe—“keeps showing up wherever I go. So what’s the plan? Embarrass me into kissing you in front of everyone?”

Bucky’s smirk faded slightly, his eyes darkening as he studied you. The playful edge in his demeanour shifted, replaced by something far more deliberate. He stepped into your space, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture was slow, almost languid, as if he were savouring the moment.

“No plan,” he said quietly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Just thought I’d give you a little nudge.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, your resolve wavering under the weight of his gaze. “A nudge?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his thumb trailing along your cheek with agonizing slowness. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night, doll. Watching you, wanting you… Figured it was time to stop pretending.”

The air between you crackled, heavy with tension that felt like it could snap at any moment. You wanted to move, to say something, but his presence pinned you in place, his touch igniting something raw and electric inside you.

“So this whole mistletoe thing…”

“Was my idea,” he admitted, his voice a dark, velvety drawl. “Not my best work, but it got your attention, didn’t it?”

You tried to muster a response, but the words caught in your throat as his hand slid from your cheek to your neck, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin just below your jaw. His grip was firm but not unkind, a subtle reminder of the strength that hummed beneath his calm exterior.

“Why so quiet, doll?” he asked, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “Not used to someone chasing you for a change?”

The challenge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you met his gaze with as much defiance as you could muster. “I….”

His grin widened, his thumb pressing lightly against the hollow of your throat. “Now, I’ve put in a lot of work to get your attention.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a deliberate slowness that left you trembling. The kiss wasn’t soft—it was consuming, demanding, his hand sliding to your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers instinctively gripping his sweater as the world around you blurred into nothingness.

When he finally pulled back, his lips still hovering dangerously close to yours, his voice was low and rough. “Now be a good girl and do as your told. The mistletoe knows what it was doing.”

Standing in the kitchen tension rising between you. He brushed something against your cheek, the damn mistletoe again..

"Let's get out of here," he said, his voice low and husky. "I think we've had enough of the party for one night."

All you could do was no, your voice caught in your throat. He took your hand, his metal fingers wrapping around yours, and led you out of the kitchen. You walked in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the mistletoe as he carried it with him.

As you entered his room, he closed the door behind you, the click of the lock echoing through the silence. He turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I've been waiting for this moment all night Doll," he said, his voice dripping with desire. "I've been watching you, wanting you... and now, I'm going to have you."

He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to undo the zip on your dress. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he slowly peeled the fabric away from your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck.

The mistletoe was still clutched in his metal hand, and he ran it along your skin, the soft leaves tickling your flesh. You felt a gasp escape your lips as he touched the mistletoe to your nipple, the sensation sending a spark of electricity through your body.

He undressed you slowly, his hands worshiping your skin as he exposed it to the cool air. You felt vulnerable, yet empowered, as he gazed at you with adoration.

“Feel like silk sweetheart..”

His eyes never leaving yours, and led you to the bed. You lay down, your heart pounding in your chest, as he followed you, his body pressing against yours. Taking off his own clothes enjoying the hungry look in your eyes as you took him in, pulling you to his lap while he leant against his headboard, same smug grin on his face.

The mistletoe was still clutched in his hand, and he ran it along your skin, the leaves tickling your flesh. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he touched the mistletoe to your lips, his mouth claiming yours in a searing kiss.

As you broke apart for air, he whispered, "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. I'm not going to let you go.”

And with that, he slid inside you, his body moving in perfect sync with yours. The mistletoe was forgotten, lost in the passion that consumed you both.

As you moved together, your bodies entwined, you felt like you were losing yourself in the moment. The world outside melted away, leaving only the two of you and the noises he could ring from you. His metal hand fisted in the back of your hair, still clutching that damn strig of mistletoe, forcing your head back his mouth kissed at your throat, making his way up to your ear. “Down you go Doll.” The voice sounded soft but the tug on your hair was clear, and you lowered yourself back down taking more of him back inside of you. “Let him kiss it again."

Your thigh shook as you went down, going all the way until he was pushed back up against your cervix as he bottomed out. “Yeah that right.” He groaned, you mewled “Now come on, little bounces.” His tip nudging- kissing it again and again while you panted. “Buck,” you managed, your voice unsteady you were losing yourself as he moved your hips up his other hand moving between you.

“Oh doll she such a messy kisser, drooling all over me.” His fingers pressing into your clit while he had you bouncing on him, your hand grabbing his headboard behind his head, his body pressed against yours, his chest warm against yours. All you could do was pant and keen as he meet your little movement with his own. “Shh shh, I know.” His voice soothing as you continued to bounce on him, his fingers worked their magic on your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You felt like you were losing control, your movements becoming more erratic as you chased the pleasure. Bucky's grip on your hair tightened, his mouth still kissing your throat, sending sparks flying through your body.

“Aah.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, his tip kissing your cervix with each stroke. You felt like you were being pulled apart, your body torn between the pleasure of his fingers on your clit and the sensation of him moving inside you. “There you go Doll, just, got to, let go..” His words emphasised with thrusts.

You felt like you were being consumed, your body overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. Your legs began to shake, your thighs trembling as you approached the edge.

"Bucky," you managed to gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. He responded by thrusting into you harder, his fingers moving faster on your clit.

You felt like you were flying, your body soaring through the air as you came. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and you felt like you were going to pass out from the sheer force of it.

As you came back down to earth, you realized that Bucky was still moving inside you, his thrusts slow and gentle now. You felt like you were floating, your body relaxed and sated. "Stay still, doll," Bucky whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not done with you yet."

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drabblesandsnippets · 1 month ago

Text

Imagine... (‘here, take my jacket’)

Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

December Daze Challenge - Day 1 - @the-slumberparty

Warnings: (410w) possessive Bucky (willing reader), mention of rough sex

Imagine dating possessive, beefy Bucky. He’d be so obsessed with you, making sure you only have eyes for him, giving you everything you could ever want. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you, squeezing your soft flesh every chance he got, growling all the things he loves about you, all the things he plans to do you. At his insistence, you’d wear as little as possible around the house, giving him every opportunity to admire and touch what’s his. You don’t even mind when you go out and he makes it obvious to everyone around who you belong to, his intimidating metal arm visible and gleaming under the lights. And when the stares start to get to him, men leering at your curves, their eyes lingering far too long in places that have Bucky seeing red, he’d offer you his jacket. You’d barely have a chance to respond before he’d drape it over you, buttoning the collar to secure it around your shoulders, shielding more of your body from view. When you’re feeling extra bold, you’d ‘accidentally’ let the button pop open, his jacket barely falling off before he’d grab it and give you a warning look that you’re playing with fire. All it’d take is a slight shrug and a soft laugh as if you’re daring him and he’d pull you into a darkened alley, pushing you up against the rough bricks to remind you who's in charge. He’d put his jacket back around you, make sure you’re comfortable, but his hands would be anything but gentle. Metal fingers inside your bra, squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple - his right hand under your skirt, ripping your tights to find you dripping for him. He’d make you moan his name, listen to you beg him to fuck you, tease you about wanting to get caught. And when you'd get too loud, he’d pull you into a sloppy kiss to silence your cries, your legs wrapped around him as he relentlessly fucked you, his bruising thrusts leaving you breathless. He wouldn’t stop until you came at least three times, your pliant body being held up by his metal arm, his other hand cradling the back of your head, keeping you from hitting against the wall as he slammed into you, your tight heat milking him dry. Afterwards, he’d take you home and clean you up - probably just to get you dirty all over again, but it's not like you'd ever complain.

Imagine... Masterlist | Day 2

Banners by @cafekitsune - Divider by @saradika-graphics

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year ago

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Sweet, sweet Aspen. You have been a very bad girl. This soft!dark guy, your boss, caught you doing something wrong—something that could easily get you fired—but he decided maybe, jussst maybe, he should keep your indiscretion, and your resulting punishment, between the two of you. After all, he’s been dreaming about filling you with his cock for ages 😏

(I picked this GIF because it looks like he’s saying, “On your knees.” lolll)

well, dearly beloved sister ho, you know we were thirsting over a particularly ... inspiring gif.

I don't think you anticipated your ask to spawn THIS, but... here we are! THANKS FOR POPPING MY ANDY CHERRY!

Title: I'm Your Man Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 3k Summary: You've spent weeks working to pull off the perfect night for Andy Barber's big charity event. A rush job, but you worked meticulously and diligently over six weeks to coordinate the biggest event of your career to date. You weren't the only one with a plan for the night.

Content Warnings: extortion, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT, spitting, oral - male receiving, spanking, vaginal intercourse, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Logistical Notes: A NAUGHTY submission @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge. Prompts incorporated are in bold.

Additional Notes: I didn't want to write a summary. There's only enough plot here to smut you up. Dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @firefly-graphics.

You sit up straight when you hear the door to Andy’s home office open behind you.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says as he strides across the room and takes a seat in the leather executive desk chair.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barber,” you reply. Every part of your body is tired – tired in a good way from the long day of work – so you were eager to get home, soak in your tiny tub, and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend, but it hadn’t been an incredible inconvenience when he’d asked if he could speak with you before you left.

“Tonight was exquisite, you did well,” he doles out the praise, and you try to quell the blooming in your chest. In the six weeks working with Andy Barber to plan the charity event you’d just executed for his foundation you had seen that he wasn’t one to casually compliment, hard to impress. You had taken more and more satisfaction out of each meeting, email, or text exchange as you consulted and then presented him with options for the event when he had fewer and fewer notes, knowing you had cracked his taste and gained his approval. He’d been your toughest client to date, but by far one of the most rewarding as he had excellent taste.

“Nearly perfect,” he adds.

Your smile falters ever so slightly, and suddenly your chest floods with a chill. “Nearly perfect? I’m sorry, sir, what didn’t live up to your expectations?”

This was far from your first event, you had built an incredible portfolio over the years, and you knew you were finally ascending to be one of the best event coordinators on the eastern seaboard – you had received an email request from a goddamn Vanderbilt to plan a wedding for them in a year and a half that you were going to respond to and accept in the morning. You weren’t arrogant, but you’d worked damn hard and knew you were good.

“You.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I – what?”

“Only one misstep tonight.”

Your brain flies back through the evening, reviewing every moment, raking through trying to determine what you could have possibly missed.

“I’m very particular about what belongs to me, and I cannot abide theft.”

Your jaw drops.

“Empty your bag.”

Now your whole body is buzzing with incredulity. You shake your head.

“I know what’s in there.”

You almost didn’t take this job when it landed in your lap. He was the reason you knew you should have said no. There were whispers about his reputation, his real businesses. But you took the initial consultation because the pitch was more money than you’d made over the last three years. Then when you’d met him, he’d been so normal, so nice, maybe a little charming, and up until this moment you had convinced yourself there was no way any of those rumors had been right.

But before you even put your hand in your bag, you knew you were wrong to have thought he wasn't all those awful things.

Not one, not two, but three Rolex watches nestled in the bottom of the main pocket. Watches you'd never seen - wouldn't even have known where to find them.

You scoop them out and drop them on his desk, eyes burning with tears. “Why?”

“Yes, why? I was already giving you a fat paycheck. What a shame when I had just given your name to the Vanderbilts’ social secretary for their son’s wedding a few days ago, I’ll have to reach out and let them know.”

“No,” you breathe.

“I’ll have to discreetly let everyone in my network know it’s better not to invite someone in their home with such light fingers.”

Your breath hitches and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle an almost sob, trying to hold back the onset of tears. “Andy, no, please.”

His smile softens. “There we are,” he coos, “you finally called me Andy like I’ve told you to so many times.”

He leans forward resting his arms on his desk.

“Now, if you go upstairs, be a good girl, put on what I left for you in my room, and wait for me, maybe I can make all of this little misunderstanding go away.”

His steel blue eyes are hard, they demand an answer.

You cock your chin up wishing you could say no, wishing you could even scowl at him, but aside from the heat and hurt in your eyes, you know you can’t do anything more without risking further ruin, so ultimately you let your chin drop and nod, resigned to the impossible power this man wields.

“Now we’re back on track for a perfect night, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.”

You don’t know how long he makes you wait, using the promise of soon as another show of his power, but long enough that your knees hurt from sitting back on your heels in a submissive, kneeling position with your head lowered, hands folded in your lap, and back to the door as the card in the white box left for you had instructed.

Also in the box had been a set of exquisite black lace and silk balconette bra and cheeky underwear. That they fit you like a glove had been both humiliating and alluring.

Even though Andy was the reason you almost said no to the job, even though he was the humiliating reason you were in this position – extorted into a nearly naked state, no question of what was to come – he was also the reason you took the job.

Dread pooled in your stomach, but along with the dread and humiliation, there were rivulets of shameful desire.

You had taken the job for the money and for how quietly charming he had been. He had never outright flirted with you, but he always left you with the question of whether he was. You worked hard for him because it felt good to win his approval. He praised you and you had preened under his intense blue eyes every time. You had forced yourself to keep everything professional.

All for nothing since you were in the farthest position of professional now.

When you finally hear him enter the room, your sit up straight again.

He tsks and says, “Head down, sweetheart.”

Andy comes around to stand in front of you. You see his perfectly polished shoes, the perfectly tailored trousers. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. He runs his thumb over your lips, circling them.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

You do.

He leans closer, then spits in your mouth, and you blink in surprise, a surge of humiliation running through you, but his grip on your jaw is powerful, so you don’t move away.

“Close your mouth but don’t swallow.”

He moves back from you then, and he begins to silently undress. He had already taken off his jacket, but he doesn’t hurry as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, the buttons down his chest, and then shrugs it off his shoulders. He places it nicely on a plush armchair on the side of the room. Next he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes and socks.

The way he doesn’t watch you but does all of this in your line of vision, knowing you have to watch, is another move meant to communicate who is in control of this situation. Still holding his saliva on your tongue is starting to become uncomfortable. Your instinct is to swallow, but you don’t know what disobedience may mean with Andy, so you fight the urge, not wanting to tempt any more of his darkness.

He stands and takes the shoes and socks to a large closet off to the side of the room, and when he returns, he stands directly in front of you again, takes your jaw in his hands again.

“Show me,” he says.

Your eyes watch his face you open your mouth, showing him the pool of saliva.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs. You hate the small bloom in your chest those words immediately invoke again. He spits into your mouth for a second time, then with a caress that is too tender he urges you to close your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do.

Andy unbuckles his belt, unbuttons the top of his fly, then unzips and pushes down the waist of his trousers with his briefs, and reveals his hard cock for you.

He’s big.

You had gotten yourself off to the thought of him a few of times late at night alone in your bed, most recently a few days ago, and you hated that you had since you were now here like this, forced on your knees in front of him.

Your core is pulsing with heat at the sight of him though – bigger than you had fantasized, and bigger than any man you’ve been with previously. You know he’ll fill you in a way that will ruin you for other men. You want and dread it.

“Take me in your mouth, sweetheart,” he commands.

Instead of forcing his cock into your mouth, this is more possessive, having you submit yourself to pleasing him of your own accord. You know every way he’s manipulating you.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” he trails off, leaving the end open for your imagination.

You plant one hand softly on his hip and wrap your other hand around his shaft, leaning forward to take him in your mouth. As you push forward, he groans. He won’t hold back when he’s pleased with you – he never has, he knows it affects you. His hands go to either side of your head. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sucking him, bobbing up and down his length, and for a while he lets you control the speed and the depth, but his hands let you know he can and will control this when he wants to. After the first couple of minutes, he makes this clear when you push back to take a breath and wipe the mix of your spit and his pre-cum dripping out of your mouth and his hands firmly prevent you from moving off him. Instead, he pushes you down slowly – more slowly than you had been pumping – and doesn’t stop until your nose hits his lower abdomen. You try to push against his hips, and he pushes his hips forward with you still anchored on his dick. Your eyes well up.

“So pretty,” he says, “imagined you like this, but you’re more gorgeous than I thought you would be.”

Something in your chest melts. You wish he wouldn’t say things like that. It makes you weaker – weaker for him. He pulls back just an inch or two, then pushes his length into your throat again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, my perfect fucking girl.”

You whimper, and the tears spill over.

His right hand moves away from your face and around behind him. He’s quick, and when you can see his hand again, it’s to discover he’s taken his phone out of his back pocket. He takes photos of you, angling the phone a few different ways. Then he tosses the phone onto the chair where he’d laid his shirt.

Then he resumes his small, concentrated rutting, only easing out just enough to make the thrust back in worth it for him. As he does, he groans, swears, wipes tears from your cheeks, and the moment before it’s too much, he finally pulls you off him.

You fall forward, gasping for deep lungfuls of air, but he’s already putting a hand under your arm and hauling you up.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, man handling you with surprising ease, doing most of the work your weak and aching legs can’t do to hoist you up onto his Alaskan king bed.

He’s immediately up as well and behind you, the last of his clothing stripped off. His fingers quickly undo the clasp of your bra and pull it off your shoulders and toss it away. He pushes you forward, toppling you down to the mattress. He slaps your ass, and you gasp and jerk. He brings his hand down on your round flesh again, with another sting, but the second one has you moan, and he lets out a satisfied, “Yes,” before giving you a third slap, the hardest, and you moan again, but this one more guttural, and you’d be mortified if you weren’t shocked over the way it translated to pleasure so quickly to your brain.

Then he yanks the lacy underwear roughly down and off your legs, tossing it away as well. He pushes between your legs behind you, splitting your legs open, and his fingers seek your cunt.

He hums in approval, “So wet for me. Ready for me.”

You huff and pant.

He leans over your back, pressing you down into the mattress. “Are you eager for me?”

“Andy,” you whine.

“Say it and I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to. You bury your face in the covers.

He slaps your ass again, and you yelp.

“Admit you want me to fuck you.”

Another slap.

Another.

“Yes,” you finally concede.

“To breed you.”

You gasp, but he’s already hauling you further up the bed, and he drapes himself over your back, arms caging you in on either side of your body. His legs push yours apart as he leans down to press kisses over your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck, along your spine. He uses one hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your leaking entrance. He doesn’t care to stretch you. “Take me in your cunt, sweetheart, it’s mine.”

The only mercy is that he slots himself in slowly.

You press your hands up against the headboard and concentrate on taking deep breaths, on trying to relax your walls completely, because he’s entering you, in you, filling you, unrelenting invasion and it’s pleasure and pain and too much and not enough because every moment of more fullness is exquisite and you can’t even think about holding back the sound he’s pushing out from your diaphragm, up your throat, and out of your mouth, because that’s how it feels as he's filling you.

Once’s he’s fully inside of you, he presses his mouth right next to your ear. “I’m going to fill this pussy with my seed.” He anchors one hand on your hips, then begins pull out, only so he can start thrusting back in. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

You’ve never had an orgasm only from vaginal penetration, but the way he fills you as he fucks you, and at this angle, making you almost forget to keep breathing, you wonder if this is how you’ll go, strung out as his cock punishes you with the pleasure, but then his hand works around beneath you and his fingers quickly find your swollen and aching clit. You cry out, and one of your hands reaches back to cling to him, fingers clutching into his hair. He nips at your neck, chuckling darkly.

“My pretty girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well, you close?”

An immediate, “Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“Then let go,” he commands, pinching your clit harshly.

You see stars, and you cry out for him.

Hearing you scream his name and feeling you clench around him is all he needs, and he pumps his cum into you, saying more dirty, filthy, possessive things, but you don’t know what the words are, because you’re completely lost to coherency.

He sinks his full weight on top of you when he’s completely spent.

Both of you are silent while you come down, heartrates returning to normal.

You wait for him to say whatever he’s going to torment you with next, but he doesn’t speak.

After more long moments, he finally pushes up enough to turn you from your front to your back. He cups your jaw again and strokes his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches at the intimate gesture in the aftermath.

“Aw, why are you crying now, sweetheart?”

No, you didn’t want more tears, and not these - the soft tears. You try to look away, but he forces your face back to look at him.

“I would have slept with you if you’d asked, Andy, why did you have to do it like this?”

“Because this is so much more than that, sweetheart. I didn’t want to just sleep with you, and I needed you to know from here on out that you’re mine. I own you. I’m very particular about what belongs to me. I didn’t want you to have any illusion that there’s a choice here.”

He brushes the tears off your cheek.

“I’ll have my men move your things here in the morning, and we’ll elope in a few weeks. I’m closing the deal on a resort in Lake Como, doesn’t that sound perfect? We’ll tie the knot and then spend our honeymoon there – we can stay all summer if you want.”

You hesitate.

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do. Now I asked you, ‘doesn’t that sound perfect?’”

“Yes, Andy,” you whisper.

“Of course, it does.” He finally kisses you – and it’s dangerously soft. Warm lips engulfing yours, insistent, sucking your bottom lip between his. You whimper, and he licks his tongue into your mouth, lapping you up. He rolls over with you, putting him back on the mattress with you on his chest. He holds you pressed to him with one hand, the other hand securing your head so you can’t escape his kiss until he’s done kissing you.

It isn’t until you think you might pass out from how breathless you are that he finally breaks off the kiss. He shifts his pelvis up against you, his cock hardening again. “And I was serious about you carrying my child. But first you’ll ride my face until I’ve made you cry for a good reason, and then I’ll fill you up with more of my seed. You’re not leaving this bed the rest of the weekend.”

ARE YOU OKAY? AM I? DO WE EVEN CARE IF WE'RE OKAY?

read: -> THE MORNING AFTER

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#andy barber x female reader #andy barber smut #soft dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #tw: dubcon #aspen wrote something #navy and roo's sleepover #i'm your man collection

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veltana · 7 months ago

Text

Shared desires

✦ Pairing: Bucky/Fem!Reader, Steve/Fem!Reader, brief Bucky/Steve

✦ Word count: ~4,4k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Canon verse, Wife!Reader, Husband!Bucky, Best friend!Steve, cuckolding, degradation, praise, oral (fem receiving), spit sharing, manhandling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, angst, hurt/comfort, feels, eventual polyamory, pet names (doll, honey).

✦ Note: NERVOUS! I've never written for an event before, but it gave me the push I needed to finally finish this! For @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar we have Chocolate (a secret revealed) together with Neopolitan (love triangle). Topped with Chocolate Syrup (established relationship) and one could argue a dash of Sprinkles (special event)(it sure is special for them 😂) As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️ Enjoy 😋

Masterlist | AO3

Steve’s mouth is hanging slightly open, cheeks red, and eyes wide. "Excuse me?" he sputters. "You're the only one I trust with this, if you don't feel comfortable I get it, but I thought I’d ask.” "But Buck…" Steve begins, momentarily lost for words, then says, "I don't want to cause a rift between you and your wife." "You wouldn't, we've talked it over so many times and honestly you're the only one she's okay with." "Me?" Bucky reaches over to place a hand on Steve's knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "You've been at our side since the beginning, she knows you, and knows you would never hurt us."

Then he leans back with a smirk. "And don't think I didn't see you looking at her last time we went out drinking." Steve flushes even more, looking away, mumbling, "Those pants should be illegal." Bucky laughs in response.

With a sigh, Steve looks at his best friend, his long lost brother, the person he went through hell to get back. If Bucky knew the truth he wouldn't be laughing. For a second Steve contemplates telling him but as he's done for years, he keeps his deepest secret inside and instead says. "Just let me think about it, okay? It doesn't mean it's a no but just… I need to think, okay?" "Take your time," Bucky reassures him.

***

Several hours later you're ordering take-out while waiting for Bucky to get home from the compound. You could cook but your body is jittery with nervous energy and it's hard to concentrate. Bucky asked Steve today and you have yet to learn how it went. Your husband could have texted you, but Bucky often forgets that texting exists.

When the key turns in the lock you can't keep your cool any longer. Running into the hallway just as Bucky kicks off his shoes you don't even pretend to be nonchalant about it. "Well?" you ask.

With a chuckle, Bucky envelopes you in a hug. To be in his arms is the best feeling in the world. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth, knowing you're safe and cared for. "He's going to think about it, didn't say no. He was just shocked." Pulling back you squeeze Bucky's waist. "I understand that. I was too when you first brought it up," you note.

Bucky starts backing you out of the hallway until your back meets a wall. "But now you can't stop thinking about it," his deep voice taunts, making you light up with desire. "Now you want to get fucked while I watch and get humiliated.” The sound coming from your throat makes it impossible for you to deny it.

***

A few weeks later, you’re sitting beside Bucky, across from Steve in your living room. The guys have beers and you have a glass of wine. Steve's cheeks have been pink since he stepped through the door and looked at you. "I understand if you think it's a little… odd," you say to him. "And even if you say yes now, you can always change your mind later."

Steve nods and takes a swing from the bottle. He's not going to get drunk but it eases the nerves. "So, I'll fuck you while Bucky watches?" "Yeah," you nod. Steve puts the bottle down, dragging a hand over his face. "God, I'm going to be honest, I'm scared it's going to fuck up our friendship Buck. What if we do this and it's not what you imagined?" Bucky nods, but his answer is sure when he responds. "Then we'll stop. And there are no hard feelings. The same goes for you, even if we're right in the middle of it and it starts to feel wrong, just say the word and it stops right away."

Steve doesn’t look convinced. Honestly, you're just glad he wanted to come over and discuss it. A little idea forms in your head. You put down the wine. "How about a trial run?" you suggest. Both men turn to look at you but you only keep your attention on Steve. "If you're okay with it, I'll sit on your lap. If that feels alright we can share a kiss while Bucky watches and if it feels wrong it doesn't have to go any further."

Steve thinks for a moment, then agrees. A small groan comes from Bucky, just the thought of it makes him aroused. You kiss him on the cheek before standing up and slowly walking over to Steve. His eyes follow your every move but he doesn’t look scared.

When you straddle him, his hands immediately come to rest on your hips but then it's as if he realizes what he's done and stiffens. "It's okay," you encourage him. "You can touch me." He relaxes minimally and you settle down completely. "You can stop anytime," you remind him as you cup his bearded face. His tongue comes out and wets his plush lips, nodding.

You let your thumbs run along his cheeks, never breaking eye contact and the moment feels so intimate. You’re unsure what to expect, but your pulse picks up as he becomes more confident, moving his hands up and down your sides. A finger slips in under your sweater and brushes your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine and a pleased whimper comes out of your throat. That seems to encourage him and the light touches turn heavier.

Carefully you lean forward, giving Steve time to stop or to pull away. The hesitation on his face from earlier has fled and instead, you see a spark of eagerness. Pressing your lips softly against his, it takes a second for him to return it.

Turns out Steve Rogers is a great kisser. After sliding your lips together he quickly turns bolder, opening your mouth with his and finding your tongue to play with. His touches get greedier too. When both his hands shift in under your sweater to feel your naked skin you whimper again, longing for more of it. Without noticing you’ve started moving, seeking friction for the throbbing between your legs.

"Oh, fuck yes," you hear Bucky grunt behind you. That makes Steve break the kiss, you meet his wild eyes, pupils blown wide from lust.

"Your husband is getting off on you grinding in my lap, honey." You’ve never heard his voice so deep before. "He has his hand inside his pants, stroking his pathetic little dick while you do your best to hump me.” "Fuckfuckfuck," you hear from Bucky. With a whine you press down hard, feeling that Steve is just as affected as you. With difficulty, you stop yourself from going to the floor and beg to suck his dick. Instead, the both of you continue with the heated make-out session, your hands now heavy on Steve’s body, wishing you had his skin against yours.

The sounds coming from Bucky on the couch grow more urgent and it turns you on to know he's getting off to you making out with Steve. It feels wrong and so right at the same time. Steve nips your lower lip before kissing down your neck, saying, "I can't wait to fuck that sweet cunt of yours." Both you and Bucky moan. "Gonna give you a night you've never had before and make sure every time your husband fucks you all you can think about is my dick."

That makes Bucky lose it, a small shout declaring his climax. Steve and you slow down the tempo of your kissing until it's just soft, barely there caresses. Though the need is alight in your body, coherent thoughts start to tumble back in and after a few minutes, you pull back from him. His lips are swollen, and you feel a tinge of reproach for getting carried away with him. Cupping his face once more you ask, "How are you feeling?" He gives a dry laugh, "It's a mix of shame and horniness."

When you frown he grabs your hands to remove them from his face, squeezing them before letting go. "It's alright, it felt good while it was happening,” he reassures you, before asking over your shoulder. “How about you Buck?" "That's the hardest I've ever come from jerking off in my life I think." Both Steve and you laugh as you collapse against his chest. Immediately he starts caressing your back. You get a familiar feeling in your chest, one you usually only get when Bucky holds you.

"How about you, doll?" Bucky asks. "I liked knowing I was doing something to get you off at the same time as it was kind of "wrong"." A moment later you get off Steve, and sit down on the couch beside Bucky again. Somehow it feels weird to be away from him but you chalk it up to the sexual desire still prominent in your body.

“How about another meeting in a week or so? Get everyone to think it through another round and then we can decide on a date and location?” Bucky suggests. You nod and Steve does too.

***

On a Friday, after numerous more talks to plan the evening and all of you getting your STD tests back clean, it's finally time. The excitement is palpable in the hotel room you decide to stay in.

At Steve and Bucky’s request, you're wearing a very tight dress and the smallest pieces of underwear known to man.

Steve is sitting at the foot of the bed, white shirt tucked into black slacks like he's heading out to dinner, not about to fuck his best friend's wife. Bucky is in jeans and one of his henleys, placing an armchair at the side of the bed.

Even though you know what is about to happen, you feel nervous, but also excited to fulfill your husband's kink. When you take your place in front of Steve, meeting his hungry eyes, there is a buzz in your body making you bite your lip.

"Ready?" Bucky asks and you both nod. The moment Bucky sits down you climb onto Steve's lap. The smooth material of his slacks caresses your inner thighs as you settle. Immediately his hands land at your waists and starts stroking your sides, down to your ass, squeezing and pressing you just a little bit closer. Those blue eyes are a storm, filled with lust and need. Your face probably mirrors his and a second later your lips are pressed together.

Both of you moan and Steve fists the fabric of the dress, threatening to tear it to shreds. A soft groan is heard, and both of you smile into the kiss. Steve pulls away, making you pout, but he tsks at you. "Just be happy that I'm the one kissing you and not the shitty husband you have.”

Something in you wants to defend Bucky because he's not a shitty husband. He's amazing in every way! But you know that this is what he wants, it's part of the game. Bucky gets off on Steve's degradation. You can't deny him that.

Then he's kissing you again, heavier than earlier. Your hands grab his head, messing up the semi-styled hair, anchoring you to him. On their own accord, your hips roll against Steve's crotch, pulling moans from the both of you.

A second later he has you flipped onto your back, smiling down deviously as you stare at him in shock. But when he presses his clothed cock to your soaked panties the shock is forgotten. Pleasure engulfs every sense of your being.

"There you go honey, let me take care of you, let me make you feel better than your husband ever could." With a whine you jerk against him, trying to find relief for the ache in your cunt, but instead, he pulls away, taking your panties with him. Without looking he throws them Bucky's way and another groan comes from him when he feels how wet they are. Steve gets off the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Show your husband, honey. Show him how fucking wet you are for me."

With a whimper, you spread your legs. The air feels cool against your heated flesh. You don't dare to look at Bucky but understand he sees what Steve wants him to when a broken moan can be heard through the room.

"Touch yourself," Steve commands, and with shaking fingers you find your entrance, letting one sink it into yourself, wondering if you've ever been this wet before.

Slowly you move it, all while watching Steve get undressed. He's in no hurry. With a thick voice, he says, "One more, but don't you dare come."

With stuttered breath push another finger in. The sound that fills the room is obscene but leaves no doubt about how horny you are. When Steve is down to his underwear he pulls the fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth, groaning at the taste. After licking them clean he releases them with a pop and smirks at you. Then he turns to Bucky and it's the first time you get a good look at him.

His hands are gripping the arms of the chair in a death grip, you're surprised his vibranium hand hasn't done more damage. He's taken off his henley and his cock is out, hard and leaking onto his abdomen. Glassy eyes follow Steve's movements. The blond grabs Bucky's face, forcing his mouth open and tilting his head back. Immediately Bucky sticks out his tongue and from above Steve lets his spit run down into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky's dick twitches and leaks more. "That's the only fucking taste you'll have of your wife tonight. Say thank you." Steve rumbles. As soon as Bucky has swallowed down the mix of your slick and Steve's spit he says "Thank you," in a voice hoarser than you've ever heard before.

Steve comes back to you, pulling your dress off and stepping out of his underwear before settling on the bed and pressing your legs up against your stomach. "Now I'm going to get a proper taste of that sweet cunt," he grins.

"Steve!" you cry and your hands immediately find his hair as he dives in. His tongue travels from your opening to your clit, over and over again, soaking you in his spit until you feel it running down your ass. He sucks and licks, alternating pressure, and speed to make sure you're never quite getting enough to make you come but to keep you constantly on edge. The moment he sinks two fingers into you, you arch off the bed and a high-pitched wail leaves your mouth.

You're at the brink of shattering. The current of the climax is cursing through your body. Incoherent babbling fills the room as you try to urge Steve to take pity on you. Luckily for you, he does and concentrates the movements of his tongue to your clit, as his fingers press against your G-spot. A surge of heat fills your core, making it almost unbearable before it takes you and you come with a shout.

Steve works you through it until you're twitching from oversensitivity, pressing on his forehead to get him to stop. "Almost pushed my fingers right out with that," he muses, twisting them, pumping slowly. "Bet your husband has never made you come so hard."

A groan from Bucky accompanies your whimper. "Now tell me what you need honey." "I need you inside me!" "But my fingers are already inside," Steve makes a point by pressing the two fingers inside against your G-spot, making you lose your train of thought for a second.

"I- I mean…" you try. "Yes?" "More, I need more." "Just say the words." "I need your cock inside me, Steve, please!"

Seconds after his fingers have left you, he flips you onto your stomach, then puts you on your hands and knees right at the edge of the bed, at an angle where Bucky can see you. You're trembling with anticipation of what's coming.

Steve caresses your ass and legs, lightly dragging his fingers over your swollen clit and soaked center. "I can't believe this pretty fucking cunt is wasted on your husband." "Please, Steve!" "I bet you're never this wet for him" "No!" "You want me to fuck your sweet cunt, honey?" "Yes!" "Make it drip with my cum?" "Please!" "Should I knock you up, right here in front of your husband?" "Fuck me! Please!" As you feel the warm head against your cunt your arms collapse, your cheek resting against the bed.

"I love it when you beg for me," his strained voice is deep as he pushes inside. Moans, whimpers, and wails fall from your lips once he starts moving. He's big, just like Bucky, and you love to feel so full. You push back as he thrusts forward, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Suddenly there is a hand on your neck, making you turn your head until you see Bucky at the edge of your vision. "Tell your husband how my cock feels!" Steve demands. "Ah! Bucky! It feels so good!"

Bucky is still not touching his cock, his mouth is slightly open, his whole face red as he watches you. "Yeah, doll, you like it?" "I do! I do!" "Is he big?" "Yes! I feel so full!" That makes Steve laugh. "All she wants is a big dick and all she got was you," Steve tells Bucky.

Bucky is about to burst with those words and the armchair creeks in his grip. Then Steve turns your head again so you can't see him anymore. Instead, you're focused on how he's fucking you rough and deep. "You're gripping me so tight honey, it's like you don't want to let me go." You answer with a strangled moan. "Yeah, you're too full of cock to talk, just be a good little wife and take what I give you."

And you do, body going almost boneless as Steve fucks you. Carefully another orgasm starts to build in your lower stomach, and soon it has you wiggling and whining, needing release.

Steve's hand finds your aching clit. "That's it," he groans. "I need you to come on my cock before I fill you up with my cum. Make sure you tell your husband whose dick it is you're coming on, honey. I want it seared into his mind. Every time he fucks you from now on all he's going to remember is how loud you screamed my name." Nodding helplessly you do as he says and as the dam breaks and pleasure rushes through you, you wail Steve's name.

A moment later the telltale sign of Steve's orgasm floods you and he groans your name. For a moment his hips are plastered to you, keeping everything inside. Then he pulls out and the cum runs down your legs. When he lets go of your hips you don't have the strength to keep yourself up anymore. Falling to the side you watch Steve walk over to Bucky, pulling him up and pushing him towards you. "Go fuck my cum back into your wife."

Bucky all but scrambles over to you, ridding himself of his pants in the process before carefully turning you over onto your back and sinking into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, your lips finding his in a familiar dance.

"I won't last, doll," he confesses. "Don't need you to," you promise with a smile. A second later Bucky’s hips stutter, his orgasm causing him to cry out against your shoulder. It lasts longer than usual and brings a wide smile to your lips, knowing Bucky's fantasy is fulfilled.

When he's done he collapses on top of you, his weight heavy but welcoming, making you feel safe and loved. A moment later you look over at the armchair, expecting to find Steve, but he’s not there. His clothes are gone too and then you hear the door to the hotel room shut.

***

The anxiety in Bucky's chest grows for every dial tone that sounds and Steve doesn't pick up. The whole weekend he’s tried to get a hold of him but he hasn't answered his phone or been seen at the compound. Bucky sent hundreds of texts, all being delivered but none replied to. There is a hole in his chest where his best friend used to live and it feels like he's getting a glimpse into how it was for Steve to find him and lose him over and over again.

Bucky wanders into the exhibition, eyes searching for Steve. This is the last place on his list of where he could be. After this, he's out of ideas. Then Steve might as well have gone to outer space and Bucky shudders at the thought of searching aimlessly through the galaxies for him. But he would do it.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar back. As Bucky steps up beside him, Steve’s shoulders go stiff. "You left," Bucky states. "I know," Steve responds, looking down.

"Why? We agreed to talk afterward to make sure everyone was feeling okay. It's called aftercare for a reason." "I don't know, just seeing the two of you. You love each other so much." "We do. But we love you too."

Steve huffs at that and Bucky's eyebrows draw together. "Am I going to have to beat it out of you, punk?" "Maybe this conversation is better somewhere else," Steve suggests, glancing around. "How about we go to our place? She's worried sick about you." Steve nods and together they leave the museum.

***

You’re going to wear a hole into the floor with your endless pacing. Over and over again you replay the moments after hearing the door shut. The look on Bucky’s face. The scramble to find clothes and run after Steve. Not finding him anywhere. Both of you frantically calling him over and over again.

Then you hear Bucky's truck. And a motorcycle. Your bare feet start running before you know it and you fling the door open to see Steve get off his bike. A heartbeat later you're running across the lawn. He sees you and he’s confused, but when you jump into his arms he catches you without hesitation.

You want to scream and beat him but instead, you cling to him. Bucky says something but you can't hear it and then you feel Steve start heading towards the house.

"Doll, you have to let go," Bucky's soft voice says as Steve sits on the couch. In response, you shake your head like a petulant child. "Yes, you do, come on," It's a little sterner now. "Honey, I'm not disappearing again. I promise." Only then do you slide to the side so you're sitting next to Steve, Bucky on the other side of him.

"We're very sorry we got you into this Steve," Bucky begins right away. "It was supposed to be a fun night for all of us." Finding Steve’s hand you squeeze it to let him know you agree with what Bucky's saying. "We never wanted to hurt you," you whisper.

There is a long beat of silence and you're about to speak again but Steve says, "It's my fault that I wasn't honest with the two of you." His eyes are downcast and he brings your hand into his lap, then grabs Bucky's too. "I should have said something earlier but I was scared."

"Of what Stevie?" you ask softly. "We want you to be happy, you can tell us anything." Steve snorts, weaving all your fingers together. "Scared to tell my best friend and his lovely wife that I care for them more than I should. That when I can't sleep, I wish I could feel their warm bodies beside me. That every time I see them kiss, smile, and be utterly happy together I'm both jealous and delighted. I want the two of you to have a good life. But I also want to be a part of that life, more than just as a friend."

The confession knocks the air from your lungs and you share a look with Bucky. He speaks first. "Steve, I had no idea." "That's kind of the point." "And when I suggested that you join us…" Bucky trails off. "I saw it as the only opportunity to be with the two of you, even if it was just for one night." "And when we were done…" You try to think of it from Steve's perspective. "The way you love each other is so evident. I'll never be able to fit into that. Everything just felt wrong and that I was an intruder. So I left. I know I shouldn't have but I was so disgusted with myself I couldn't stand it."

"Oh Stevie," you lean into his side. Never in a million years could you have predicted this. "I understand if you're feeling like you never want to see me again and I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

"Hey, Steve, listen." Bucky untangles your hands to grip Steve's face and turn it towards him. "We have talked about a lot of things throughout our marriage. We both agree that even if we're not actively looking for someone else, if someone would come along one day that we both feel would complete us, then we would pursue that person and ask if that's something they're interested in. Apparently, we've both been blind because that person has been right in front of us this whole time."

As soon as Bucky says the words you know they are true. If this weekend has proved anything it is that you and Bucky love Steve just as much as you love each other.

The look on Steve's face says he doesn't believe it. "You've already kissed my wife. Can I kiss you, Steve?"

The disbelief is still evident but he nods and Bucky slowly leans in. Steve's eyelids flutter shut the moment their lips meet and you watch as your husband and his best friend find something new in each other. Steve's free hand comes up and grips Bucky's neck, at the same time and he squeezes your hand. Their kiss is slow and sensual, containing emotions that have been locked away for years. It's beautiful to watch.

As they break apart a blush rises in Steve's cheeks and a smile cracks his face. Bucky grins back at him in answer. Everything isn't solved or worked out but now the ground under you feels more stable to stand on and you know that together with these two men there is nothing the world can't throw at you that you won't be able to handle.

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thezombieprostitute · 28 days ago

Text

Old Recipes

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: baking together but neither know what you're doing

A/N2: Reader is implied femme (use of "Doll"). No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: None that I know of. Let me know if I missed any!

"Doll, I'll be honest, I'm fluent in about 7 languages, trained to read codes in those languages, and I still can't make heads or tails of this thing."

The "thing" in question was a handwritten recipe you'd found amongst your great-grandmother's things. While the family tore through her apartment to get what they wanted, you'd managed to snag her recipes collection. It was an amalgam of index cards, newspaper and magazine cutouts, and random pieces of paper with recipes written on them. You even found a napkin with a recipe on it!

Unfortunately, some of Grandma's handwritten recipes were less than legible. You'd been staring at this one in particular but the pieces weren't coming together, so you asked your boyfriend, Bucky to help out.

You take the recipe back from him. "Well we can agree to 2 eggs, 18 oz cake mix and a 1 lb can or canister of chocolate frosting."

"There's no baking instructions but raw egg doesn't seem like the kind of thing to eat. Even back in the 40's."

"I'm pretty sure that last bit says to cover with saran wrap and put it in the refrigerator."

"Maybe we're supposed to use the instructions on the cake mix box?"

"That would make sense," you nod. "But then, do we add 2 eggs on top of what the instructions say? And what the hell even is this line? It looks like it's saying 8 oz of kale!"

"Well, it's possible the eggs are meant to be like beaten egg whites?"

"But it says to beat them with the chocolate frosting."

"That is a good point."

"Wait," you squint your eyes in concentration. "Is that supposed to be 8 oz of cool whip? Look further down in the instructions."

"Okay, that's a possibility, but that line clearly says 'remove and cover with chocolate chips'. What are we removing it from? Is this recipe seriously asking us to bake frosting?"

"Well maybe that's the wrong ingredient," you mumble. You vow to beat this recipe some day.

Bucky kisses the top of your head, "please don't overwork yourself on this. Sometimes things just get lost to time." You pout at that, making him chuckle. "Right, I should know better than to try to dissuade you."

"Maybe F.R.I.D.A.Y. can help," you muse. "Can you get me an appointment with Tony?"

"For a recipe?" Bucky huffs in surprise.

"Make it a challenge! Tell Tony you bet even his best can't decipher a handwritten recipe!"

That makes Bucky laugh. "He'd definitely jump at the challenge, but I don't know that he'll be happy about putting so many resource behind a family recipe that was made maybe once or twice."

"But you'll ask him?" you pout with your best puppy dog eyes, knowing Bucky can't resist.

Bucky gently sighs as he gives you an eye roll. "Yes, I will ask."

"Thank you!" you chirp before covering him in kisses.

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen;

@irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

Bonus: Here's the recipe I used as a reference!

#navy and roo's sleepover #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #boyfriend!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

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nicestgirlonline · 1 year ago

Text

Something Sweet

Pairing: Sugar Daddy! Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut ahead!!! Thigh riding, public stuff, dirty talk, sugar relationships, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary : A chance run in with a handsome stranger turns out to be the opportunity of a lifetime

a/n: for @the-slumberparty September Bingo Challenge! No bingo for me this round, I got it in JUST UNDER THE WIRE! Takes me waaaaayyy to long to write lol. Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

You placed the candy bar on the counter in front of the very bored cashier. You dug through your purse and pulled out your debit card and handed it over. A queue had started to form behind you as you tapped your hand in anticipation.

“Declined.” The cashier said, holding out the card for you. Your stomach dropped. You were afraid this was going to happen. You were so sure that you had enough in your account for at least a candy bar. You had paid the overdraft fees from last month, so you should have been set. Your stomach gurgled a bit. You were so hungry.

“Um, can you try it again?” You asked, hoping it was some sort of mistake, that the bank was just a little slow to catch up with your account. She let out a sigh and placed it in the machine again.

You could feel the stares behind you. You looked back at the line; directly behind you was a tall man dressed in a suit, checking his watch. He looked like he must be very important. He had dark brown hair that was neatly styled and just a touch of a five o’clock shadow. It was incredibly handsome. His icy blue eyes flicked from his Rolex to you, making you quickly turn back to the cashier.

“Declined. Again.” The cashier handed it back this time with a look insisting you take the card from her. Humiliated, your cheeks began to turn red.

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you shoved your card back into your purse so you could clear the shop as quickly as possible. In your haste, you accidentally ran into Mr. BusinessMan. You collided with his body like a brick wall. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! Fuck I’m a mess.” You cried out as you ran past him this time.

You ran directly out onto the street, the cool air filling your lungs. You dropped down onto the curb to spend a minute catching your breath. You could feel your heart still racing, your body going into fight or flight mode.

Money, money, money. It all always came back to money. If you didn't have the money for a god damn candy, how were you going to make rent in less than two weeks? Tears threatened to escape your eyes and you squeezed them shut.

Here you were, no food in your stomach and soon to be no roof over your head. You looked at your phone, a flip phone from 2013 that miraculously still worked. The last text you had gotten was from your mom “Fridge broken. Send more this month.”

God fucking damn it.

“Hey! I think you forgot this.” A deep voice called out behind you. You turned to see the business man from the shop! Confused, you grabbed your purse and checked to make sure you hadn’t left your keys or something. The man held the bar you had left at the counter. He held it out to you. You didn’t go to grab it, you just stared.

“Oh. Um, you didn’t have to…” You began but he squatted down next to you and placed the candy on your lap.

“We all have bad days. Doesn’t cost me nothing to be nice. You look like you deserve something sweet.” He had a very kind smile on his face. It did cost him something though, it cost him more than what was currently in your bank account. “You ok?”

“I’m…I’m ok. I’m going to be ok. Thank you, really.” You could feel the tears spilling over and you started to wipe your face so he wouldn’t see.

“You must really like candy to be crying over it.” He lightly joked, which only made you want to cry more. You let out a little laugh that sounded more like a strangled gasp. It was so overwhelming, the simple act of charity.

“It’s just…really really nice of you.” You gasped, the tears finally flowing freely. “I don’t remember the last time anyone has ever given me something…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I’m James.”

You gave him your name, finally ceasing your tears. You took a deep breath, you couldn’t just fall apart in front of this kind stranger, he was probably running late to some sort of business meeting anyway.

“You have a way to get home?” he asked, he pulled out his phone and began to tap on it. You nodded your head.

“Yes, yes I do. I have money left on a bus card, really thank you so much James.” He smiled at you when you said his name. He placed his phone back into his suit jacket. He took your hand and helped you up. With your spiral into darkness slightly stalled, you took in your savior. He was so classically handsome. When you looked into his blue, blue eyes you felt like you were drowning in them. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, your heart raced.

“Get home safe, alright doll?” You nodded, clutching the candy bar to your chest. You took off down the street after giving a soft goodbye. The kindness of strangers had given you more hope than you had in a long time.

You idly wondered about James as you ate on the bus. Your money problems were still lingering in the back of your mind but your thoughts were clear.

You tore open the candy bar, taking a bite of the delicious treat. The chocolate melting on your tongue, the sugary sweetness coated your mouth. You got a rush from the sugar and let out a sigh.

Maybe things were going to be ok, it was a sign that the universe was on your side.

{}{}{}

You put on your waitress face and did your best to keep up the highest energy tonight. You were all bubbles and giggles throughout the shift. You would smile and laugh at every lame joke a customer would tell you.

Half way through your shift the place was packed. You should be grateful it was busy, you were getting good tips but hadn’t had a moment to breathe since you walked out onto the floor. You carefully balanced a tray of shots and an order of bacon-wrapped dates to drop off before you made it to the party that just sat down in your section. The hostess had put them back in the booth that was partially tucked away with velvet curtains. Big spenders for sure. You smoothed down your dress and tossed your hair over your shoulders as you made your way over.

“Hiii how are we doing tonight Gentle--” You began your usually bubbly opener, voice high pitched and energetic but as you took in who was sitting in front of you, you stumbled.

James. Your candy savior. The bodega hero. Him and three other men were waiting to be served. He was wearing a new suit, this one with no tie and a few buttons undone from his shirt. Damn he could really rock a suit, he filled this one out perfectly too. FUCK.

“Ahem, excuse me gentlemen. So what can I start you off with?” You quickly recovered, grabbing your pad and pen and focusing your eyes on the paper. You prayed that with your heavy makeup and fluffed up hair that maybe he wouldn’t recognize you, or maybe just wouldn’t even remember.

“Hey there sweetheart, hope my good looks didn’t startle you.” His charming grin grew as you bashfully waved your hand at him.

“Oh I'm used to handsome, it's just a little busy in here tonight. Are we just starting out the night? Maybe with some shots?” You offered with a grin of your own. He seemed pretty pleased with your flattery. James was silent as the other two ordered a round of shots, his gaze was fixed on you. You went to turn to put the order in but as you went James’s hand shot out and he grabbed your wrist.

You froze and stayed.

“Hold on a minute Doll, you didn’t take my order yet.” His voice was low and easy. You lightly moved your hand out of his grasp to put pen to paper. You nodded to him hoping to get his order. “I want a whiskey. Neat. And bring the whole bottle out.”

“Whoa, we’re getting bottles tonight?”

“Sounds like you guys are going to have some fun!” You said quickly writing down the order with a flourish. This time you managed to escape to put the orders in. As you waited by the bar for the orders you felt your heart racing. It wasn’t just the adrenaline of the fast paced night. Seeing James again had put you completely off kilter. It was humiliating, the last time he saw you, you were crying in the street. He must find you so pathetic. If he even recognized you?

James and his party stayed practically til closing, ordering more and more. The bill they were racking up was so notable that Jeremy himself came out to thank them for their patronage. The other girls were all playfully jealous, it wasn’t you who could normally hook in the big spenders like that.

“Sadly, it seems we’ve got to end it here. Little guy can’t hold his liquor.” James said motioning to the one you learned was named Sam.

“M’fine.” He slurred. The blonde man who was called Steve laughed and threw an arm around him as he swayed. The two made their way to the exit leaving you alone at the table with James. He smiled at you expectantly. You just wanted the night to be done with.

“Whenever you’re ready!” you placed down the bill on the table.

“Hold on Doll, I’m ready now.” He pulled out a shiny black card from his wallet, and quickly scribbled down on the receipt. You took the card with a smile, ready to go charge it. You glanced down on the tip and your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

He had given you a 100% tip.

“Problem?” He asked, innocently cocking his head to the side. You glanced at the bill again, rereading it as slowly as you could to try to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

“I think you might have mixed up the tip and the total-”

“No mistake. I’m tipping for the fantastic service.”

“I really don’t know how comfortable I am with that James. Is this because of this morning?” Your voice was pathetically small.

“Oh so you do remember me?” He asked flatly. You looked up at him. His sudden tone made your stomach clench.

“I mean…of course I do but that’s not very professional of me. I’m sorry-” You immediately tried to amend the situation. This was somehow your fault, you could tell.

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to be sorry for getting something you want.” James’s tone was no longer angry.

“I don’t need pity.”

“It's not pity, Doll. You gave me a service and now I’m paying you what I think is fair. I know you probably aren’t used to people giving you what you’re worth. You probably don’t even know what your worth is, do you?” When his icy blue eyes met yours it was like you were really being seen for the first time. You loved it as much as you hated it.

“I’m not…I’m not worth anything much. Here’s your card sir, have a good night.”

You ran off, your face hot with humiliation.

{}{}{}

You had hoped that would be the end of it. Even with the insane tip from James you were still on the outs with your money. Now that rent could be made there was the electricity, gas, and water. Then the money you would send back to your family, oh and food for yourself. You couldn’t forget that. You kept all ten shifts that you had managed to beg Jeremy for. The big night with James made him much more amenable to your requests.

It was only for a split second but you saw him at the hostess table. With two different men at his side, there stood James for the second night in a row. You whipped your head around and scurried to the back.

“Wanda, he’s here again. Again!” You squealed to your co-worker who was just preparing to start her shift.

“Who, Mr. Moneybags? Well aren’t you lucky.” She said, giving you a playful glare.

“I don’t want to deal with him again. Please take my table?” you pleaded.

“Don’t need to ask me twice, I’ll be getting that nice tip tonight.” She tossed her coppery hair over her shoulder and smoothed down her dress one final time before strutting out onto the floor.

He wasn’t here for you, you told yourself. You were just being paranoid. Wanda was going to have all of them eating out of her hands by the end of the night, you told yourself as you started out towards your first table. You pushed it from your mind.

But you couldn’t help but glance over to his table, and the glance was more than enough to see that James was not happy. Wanda and her incredible curves didn’t seem to distract him at all. You could see her laughing and chatting but James was a dark cloud.

Fine, who cares, he was going to give Wanda a ludicrous tip because he was a generous tipper. He wasn’t pitying you, he wasn’t trying to give you charity, that's just who he is. You scamper towards the kitchen to put in your orders and hopefully hide out a while.

Wanda came back towards the kitchen, placing her orders and grabbing the food that was ready. Her beautiful smile fading into a line when she made eye contact with you.

“They were really really insistent that it has to be you tonight. Even just to go over and say hi. ” She said, her tone was dry. Nervous butterflies erupted in your stomach. You bit your lip. What could this possibly mean?

{}{}{}

You were normally pretty steady in your heels, but the floor was suddenly uneven as you approached James’s table.

“Well hi there, gentlemen. I-I can take your drink orders tonight. Give Wanda a hand.” You babbled, trying not to flub over any words.

James smirks at you victoriously. He doesn’t need to say anything, his eyes say it all. He had gotten his way.

The party once again racked up a ridiculous tab. Nothing was stopping him. The rest of the table had cleared out quickly, leaving just you and James.

He opened his wallet and laid out the tip, bill by bill. He pushed the fat stack to you, not breaking eye contact once.

It was multiple hundred dollar bills, but you were too stunned to count. The anxiety that had been building since you first caught a glimpse of James again finally came bursting out of you in a tidal wave. You tossed the cash back on to the table.

“Please stop. I can’t…I can’t keep doing this, I don’t know what you expect from me.” You gasped, allowing your facade to crack as you stared up at him with tears wetting your eyes.

You weren’t scared. But you were confused. This sort of attention must have meant he wanted something from you and…you were fairly certain of what that was.

“This is how this business works, you did something for me, and I paid for your services.”

“I -- I--” Your breath was caught in your throat as he leaned closer to you to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Poor thing, you’ve never been treated well in your whole life, have you? I know why you’re so nervous. You’re not stupid, you're really smart. I don’t expect anything from you tonight.”

He took a breath and it was like he was stealing the air right from your lungs. “But. I would like to make an offer, if you’d be interested. I just want one hour of your time.”

“I’m not a whore.”

He caught your chin in his hand and made you look back at him, his eyes dark and humorless.

“What an ugly word. Nobody’s calling you that doll. Have dinner with me.” His thumb traced over the apple of your cheek.

{}{}{}

One hour of your time. You kept thinking about it over and over again. It was just one hour. This ostentatiously wealthy man was paying you to have dinner with him. It’s not a crime. But it felt so dangerous. Sneaky and dirty. Part of it was terrifying but it was also…exciting.

This restaurant was leaps and bounds above your place of work. It was all very classy. You tugged on your skirt just a bit, hoping you weren’t going to stick out. You were brought through the restaurant, up some stairs to a private party room. It was a huge table, with only two places set, a glow with dozens of candle’s soft light. The walls were all windows, looking over the restaurant the other a breathtaking view of the city.

James was waiting for you when you arrived. He looked you up and down appreciatively, his eyes lingering. He stood up like a gentleman when you got to the table. He pulled the chair out for you.

“Oh um, thank you.” You said as he pushed you into your spot once you were seated.

“No thanks necessary, Doll.” He placed the napkin from the plate on your lap before returning to the seat across from you. The waiter who brought you up took your drink orders before leaving you alone.

The door clicked closed and suddenly there was a tense silence between you two. What was next? Were you supposed to say something? Or should you wait for him?

“I trust the ride over was pleasant?”

“Yeah, um, no issues at all. I’ve never been here before, any recommendations?” Why were you so awkward? Should you be seductive? Should you be professional? Was this a business transaction or a date? Every time your eyes met his he looked hungry. For you. It made you flush.

“You can get anything your heart desires. Pick out whatever has the most zeros next to the name.” He grinned. “The seabass is pretty good too.”

You wrinkled your nose a bit. “It's not too…fishy is it?”

“Well it is fish.”

“But is it fishy fish?” James laughed at that.

“It's a fishy fish. The steak is good too, but it's a steaky steak. So you know.” He joked. It made you laugh a bit too. It was like a spell was cast over you, the tension was released and your nerves vanished. The conversation flowed between the two of you easily.

Your food came, he didn’t bring up anything. He had asked for an hour of your time, because he was going to propose something to you. You had friends who had “boyfriends” who weren’t really their boyfriends. Men who would pay for the fun that night, but they got paid back in other ways.

You never had thought of yourself as that girl. But here you were. The anticipation made you nervous but you couldn’t deny the excitement.

He ordered dessert for the two of you, champagne and strawberries with cream and chocolate.

You glanced at your phone, there was about ten minutes left of “your time” that he had purchased.

“I hope I’m not so boring that you’re counting down the minutes.” James commented as you put your phone back in your purse. You shake your head.

“No I just…we have some things to discuss right? And an hour is what you asked for…”

“I am willing to pay overtime, if you’re still enjoying yourself. But if we’re down to the minute here, we should talk.” He folded his hands on the table.

“I like you, I think that we can make something together. You seem like you need some help and call me old fashioned but I just can't resist a damsel in distress. I’m a busy man, with a lot of work and a full schedule, not really much time for dating. Not a fan of the apps either. What I am looking for is an arrangement. I want a companion and can keep you very well compensated for it.”

“So you’ve had…arrangements like this before.” You asked slowly. It didn’t make much sense to you. He was so unbelievably handsome. How could he have trouble finding anyone to be with?. He filled out his clothes so well, his strong square jaw made you want to swoon. How could it be you that he wanted?

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before.” You admitted. You cleared your throat. “What sort of things are you looking for from your…companion.” Your eyes were suddenly very focused on the bowl of strawberries in front of you. You hadn’t had a boyfriend before, but you’d been with men. Your idea of a sugar daddy was always a creepy old man, desperate for a young thing to fuck. But he didn’t seem desperate at all. The way he pinned you with his gaze was making you feel desperate for him.

James reached out and placed his hand over yours.

“I am looking for everything. I want someone who’ll keep me company at home, someone I can buy gifts for, someone I can take out on dates.” He squeezed your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your wrist. “I’d like someone who’s going to stay the night too.”

Your stomach flipped. You knew what he meant.

“Ah, like, sleepovers?” You giggled nervously. “I was never allowed to have those, as a kid. I always had to watch over my siblings.”

“I didn’t have any either. Romanian immigrant parents. They didn’t really…get it?” James smiled, it was different from the grin that had been on his lips all night. It almost seemed shy. “So maybe we should make up for lost time, hm?”

“But what would it be like? Being your…companion?” You were testing the waters. He was being a bit too vague for your liking. The word sugar baby had never been said but that’s what this was going to be wasn’t it? He wasn’t asking you to be his girlfriend. But he wanted you. And you wanted him.

Should you get a contract? Or was that only something that happened in trashy romance novels?

He picked the bottle of champagne, his veins bulged in his strong grip. He easily flicked the cork off, popped the champagne with a loud bang that made you jolt. He smirked at your reaction. He poured himself a glass effortlessly then stood, walking to your side of the table. He was completely relaxed, in total control the whole time.

He towered above you as he poured the bubbling liquor into the champagne flute in front of you. You could smell the rich musk of his cologne. He picked it up to offer it to you.

“If you agree to be mine, I would take you out to nice places like this, buy you whatever you like and then we would keep having fun all night.” His eyes sparkled. Your heart began to flutter, his eyes making you feel like you were the only person on earth. And you could get anything you wanted.

You took the flute from him. You took a sip of the dry sparkling wine. It tasted expensive.

“Do you want me to quit my job?” You said plainly.

“Being CEO means I don't exactly have a 9-5 schedule and neither does a cocktail waitress. I don’t want to have to deal with scheduling around each other. Part of this is about you being available to me. You can take a leave of absence?” He was still standing, but had leaned against the table facing you. The CEO drop gave you a slight pause. You knew he was rich but…you were nervous to ask just how rich. Did it matter? You wondered to yourself. He was so handsome, you didn’t need specifics. You needed him.

“I don’t think that's an option for me.” You said trying not to roll your eyes.

“Trying not to seem too pushy Doll, but…I want you to quit your job. I’ll be your job from now on. I can cover any of the expenses you’d need a job for. Being mine means spending late nights at my apartment, weekend trips to Europe, I don’t want you to worry about anything but me. If you agree, of course.”

He held out his hand to you. “Or is my time up?”

You grabbed his hand. Your fingers interlocked. You nodded your head. James smiled and pulled you out of your seat. You quickly stood, eyes looking up into the icy blue pools that captivated you. His lips lightly pressed against yours. It was so soft and romantic, you surrendered to him easily. Your lips moved against him, assuring him, assuring yourself, you could do this.

“You know why I got the strawberries right?” He asked as he pulled away motioning to the nearly forgotten dessert.

“Yes…I’ve seen Pretty Woman. They bring out the sweetness of the champagne” You replied smartly. He laughed again. You made him laugh a lot, and every time you did your heart would race.

“I got them because I’m pretty sure you have a sweet tooth. And I thought it could be fun.” He scooped a dollop of cream onto a berry and brought it up to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, taking a bite of the fruit. The bright, sharpness of the berry was contrasted by the fluffy sweetness of the cream. It was so decadent you needed a minute before you could take another bite.

He pressed his hands against the small of your back and guided you slowly towards him.

He eased down onto the chair, planting his feet on the floor.

He gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his thigh. He guided you down and you followed his lead. You slowly lowered onto him.Your crotch rubbed against his thigh, you grabbed onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself. His fingers went to your dress and hiked it up to your waist.

You let out a gasp, your eyes quickly darting to the door. He grabbed your chin and pulled your focus back to him.

“You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. You just have to be mine.” He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. Your face was burning with embarrassment, you’d never been so intimate in public before.

He began to tap his heel making you bounce up and down. His hands went to your ass. The delicious friction made you bite down hard on your lip as your arousal started to mount.

“James ahh--” You tried to ask but pleasure started to rocket up your core. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to rock you on his thighs. He shushed you, burying his face in your neck. His hands finally left your hips and grasped your breasts. You moaned at the sensation. You wrapped your arms around his neck, arching your back bringing his face to your cleavage.

Your hips moved of their own volition now, faster as the sweet ache between your legs grew.

They glided over and over his thick thighs, building in speed as you chased after your high. Bouncing up and down, no longer concerned with anyone who might see.

“What do you want?” he gasped. Suddenly stopping you mid thrust, his grip on your ass held you still.

“Huh?” you whined, wiggling your hips a bit, but he held you firm.

“Tell me sweetheart, how do I close this deal, what do you want?” James whispered in your ear, letting his breath tickle you.

“I--” You took a moment. Your panties were soaked through, you could feel your slickness on his pants. You felt so wanton, but this was what you wanted. “I want my rent paid.”

“Done.”

“And I want a new phone.” He just nodded as his lips connected with your neck. You moaned as he lightly bit down on your neck alternating between pain and sweet kisses. You suddenly felt powerful, more powerful than you ever had in your life. “I also have student loans and money for savings a-and my sister’s starting high school this year and she’s going to need a laptop, so--”

His lips had finally worked your neck enough and collided with your lips. He kissed you so fiercely, so overwhelmingly hot that you completely lost your train of thought and surrendered to it.

“Deal.” he panted as he pulled away from your lips, his forehead resting against yours. You started to ride his thigh again, desperate for a release as the coils inside you wind together tighter and tighter.

“Fuck Doll that’s right, use me, ride my thigh, you’re mine now. Show you how good it is to be mine.” James grunted as you chased your high.

Waves of pleasure came crashing over you. You writhed on his thigh, your panties sticking to the sides of your walls as you collapsed forward. Pressing your head to his shoulder, you could feel him chuckling.

You liked being his. You felt small in his lap as he smoothed down your dress. He wiped some of the sweat off your brows.

You take another sip of the champagne. It wasn’t sweet, but you could get used to it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #navy and roo's sleepover #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #sugar daddy! bucky barnes #avengers fanfic #Ceo! Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #winter solider fanfic #sebastian stan #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months ago

Note

I am sorry but I'm going to need a Ransom story with this prompt. It can be RoaR or a one-off, he can love it or hate it in this space, he can see it over Reader's shoulder on the computer screen, your choice!

o.0 oh boi oh boi oh boi! Fall Vibes but it's gonna be my summer challenge submission to @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar, featuring the flavors Cookies and Cream (soulmates) and Rocky Road (rags to riches) with the topping Oreos (marriage of convenience (reluctantly)). Also my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza, featuring a babe in love and cranky about it + "can you just...hold me please?"

For Show Ransom Drysdale x poor!soulmate!reader

Summary: Ransom hates that you--his soulmate and wife--are nothing like him.

Warnings for smut and Ran's a**hole brain (rude, nasty thoughts that he barely even believes). Classic Lexi--this is cheeky, y'all, but you know it's because I can't help myself... MINORS DNI. Find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist. WC 2.1k

Ran didn’t believe in love to start, but this is fucking ridiculous. Opposites attract? Get wrecked, asshole. He’s keeping opposites on the other side of the house. It’s not far enough.

It’s standard practice for the confirmation of matching soulmarks to act as a de facto marriage contract—common law, if you like,—and Ransom Drysdale fought tooth and nail to make you prove you had his name on you. He needed to see it with his own eyes or fuck that shit.

His is obvious; he can show it off. In fact, Ran is surprised by how long it took you to come forward, considering his family and status, considering his lifestyle of being very visible.

But no, he had to wait for a fucking database to pop out record of his match from your healthcare provider, and he had wait for that because the government knew about your health…because they know such things…about people who need their fucking money. The registration of soulmarks puts the financial responsibility on the soulmate if they end up having the means.

Now Ran is responsible for you, a woman he made lower the front of her panties in open court to reveal his goddamn name in his own goddamn handwriting imprinted right above her goddamn cunt, and suddenly it became his cunt, his problem, his responsibility.

You’re not even fun. You had no money and didn’t care to have any, so you moved your few, ratty belongings into his home, replacing nothing, offering nothing in return for his—well, in return for every fucking thing he has now being yours, too. It’s so fucked.

You don’t want to show off, and he has no intention of showing you off. He can’t be seen with you, not without the proper clothes or jewelry, and you refused to get them. Instead, Ransom leaves you alone in the house, doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as always. He won’t talk to you because he just gets furious every time. He’s not going to have deep conversations about the state of the world, though he might have one social justice issue he can fight for: the mother-fucking law that made you his wife without question.

Ran slams the kitchen cabinet storing all-white, matching stoneware mugs when he notices what’s missing: your single, sad, flea market mug. It’s clay so it always looks dirty, and he hates it.

He lightly punches his own neck in irritation.

He didn’t stand a chance fighting the marriage, not with your name in deep, port red letters creeping up his throat, higher than any turtleneck he’s ever owned. Coupled with his legal name resting snuggly beneath your pubes, it was obviously, technically accurate that you’re soulmates. When was the last time someone challenged that system, he thinks. That might be a better use of his money than—

Where are you anyway?

For all his annoyance, he hasn’t set eyes on you for days.

His house is large enough (and he spends so much time anywhere else) that you have your own room, which you didn’t question, and the kitchen is easy enough to share when one of you eats out with other people (as he does two to three times a day). You get the slightly bigger and more formal living room while Ran gets the den with the big TV. Really it’s been the perfect system for almost forgetting you exist.

He pours tea into his clean, white mug and leaves said big TV fairly loud on some program he wasn’t paying attention to, leaning over the granite countertop to see if he can spot you from this angle.

No luck.

He steps closer, sipping.

A little closer, more sipping, a purposeful smack of his lips to grab your attention if you are just around the corner.

There are two openings, both far larger than doorways, to the living room, each through the central hall. When he doesn’t immediately see you, he steps to the farther opening. What the—

What’d you do to his couch?

Is that every single pillow and blanket from your side of the house?

Did Yankee Candle Company throw up in here?

What, the fucking fireplace wasn’t enough ambiance for you? You had to make some sort of nest with his stuff? And there’s that ugly-ass mug, no coaster, on his super-expensive, reclaimed hardwood coffee table.

A pillow shifts.

No, not a pillow; it’s your back, and when you shift again, Ran sees one of the plush throw blankets slink farther down your bare skin. It’s the largest swath of your body he’s ever seen.

You lay with your arms folded, peering out the windows behind the couch, and you still haven’t fucking noticed him.

He huffs before realizing he isn’t listening to the faint TV anymore, but when he ticks his head, he sees your TV isn’t on either.

“”I think of nothing but you as I fall asleep at night”—” Ran hears a woman’s voice fake a deeper tone before switching to normal “—Javier says, pulling her soft curves into his hard body—”

You sigh dreamily and wiggle on the cushions. The blanket slides over the swell of your ass.

Ran stops moving mid-sip of tea.

“”Please, my darling, let me have you—“ this is fucking terrible, he thinks “—as only a lover can.””

Alright, now Ransom is just sad. You’re naked in his living room, rubbing your thighs together and listening to an erotic novel on your phone.

“Chloe felt his digits dance across her clavicle, his eyes enchanted by her heaving bosom…”

Go out to a club or restaurant with him? No. Wear nice clothes he could buy you? Nope.

“”Javi,” she gasps, distracted by his rough palm groping her breast hungrily, “I can’t believe you want me.””

Ran is going to fucking gag at the whining appall in the narrator’s voice.

Why listen to this awful shit instead of show off him as your husband? From the quick shiver racing down your spine and the curl of your toes where they hang over the cushion’s edge, it’s because you’re fucking horny for it.

Good god, how low are your standards?

He stalks forward, feet hitting the floor hard until he reaches the plush rug.

Startled, you peer over your shoulder at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and you begin scrambling to recover yourself.

Ran puts his cup down by yours. “Don’t move,” he orders, and to his surprise, you obey, keeping you head turned his direction and sinking back into the pillows.

“”How could you doubt? From the moment I met you, I adored you.””

He swivels to face the same direction as you, reaches out his hand and mime the stroke he’s contemplating tracing over your curves.

“”I’m yours,” Chloe breathes, Javier’s growing member signaling his desire against her silk-covered core.”

Ran finally bends until the tip of his middle finger grazes the inside of your thigh.

As he drags it over one cheek and down the other, you whine and push your ass toward his hand.

That’s…not bad, all things considered. You are his wife, after all, and you clearly want to be fucked. He won’t argue that having some other woman’s name scrawled on him hasn’t limited his game for quite a while. Financially independent or not, when a pussy is presented to him, Ransom will say ‘yes.’

He stops noticing the audio from your phone and just dives in, no sentiments or kind words of his own. He simply unbuckles his belt, pops the button of this jeans, and rips that zipper down before teasing your folds to find enough slick at your entrance to swirl around. He spreads you and your wetness with purpose. Each second that passes drives Ransom a little bit more insane.

Impatient, strung out like a virgin on prom night, he rushes to shove his pants out of the way and kicks one knee up between your legs, his other foot still on the floor. He pumps his fingers inside you until he’s knuckle-deep and nearly dripping, manhandling your hips to the right height to sink his tip into you.

Ran groans at how fucking good you feel. He’s probably just desperate. He’d be excited about any ol’ means to come right now.

He snaps his hips in small thrusts until his whole length glides in and out in seamless stimulation. You’ve buried your face in the pillow, so he can’t hear if you make any noise. He can, however, see your hands scratch at the upholstery and clench into fists. He can see you deepen the arch of your back, angling his dick to fuck just slightly down through your channel. The pressure squeezes the spongy head of his cock like a vice. He’ll never say it out loud, but your pussy is fucking perfect. God fucking dammit.

Ransom relentlessly drives into you, catching the sideview of your breasts bouncing each time his thighs slap yours. He smacks your ass once just to see if it jiggles for him, and that’s when your hand snakes to disappear between your legs. He expects you’re going for your clit which is good because he’s about to get off and get lost, but instead, he feels your soft fingers cup his balls.

He’s so enamored by the sensation that he switches to tiny pulses deep in your cunt while your hand wraps and rolls his sac gently. Twitching and tensing, Ran unabashedly moans until your walls constrict around his length.

He’s got to make you do that again.

Ransom collapses forward to lean over you, his own hand diving to find your clit, resting his palm right over your mound and soulmark. Every inch of his body burns hot with need. He humps wildly, resting his chin over your shoulder.

“”I don’t care how, Javi, just stick it in there. I need you. I need you so badly…””

“Jesus Christ,” Ran growls, “are they still not fucking?”

A giggle bursts from your lips, a sweet, happy sound he’s never heard from you before, and you reach for him. Your palm lands on his soulmark, your fingers curling to scratch the hairs at the nape of his neck, and there’s…there’s…

He can’t comprehend how your body fits his so well. He can’t reconcile this sudden swell of obsession in his gut for you. He’s enveloped in a binary system of souls, gravity tugging at that connection between you.

Ran doesn’t believe in love or destiny. He refuses. He believes in pleasure and perception, in accumulation and ownership.

The only thought left in his static-filled head is mine, mine, mine, mine.

He falls over the edge first, a satisfied shout punctuating each spurt he plants within you, furiously working your messy clit and kneading one breast in his free hand until he feels that squeeze again, and again, and again, dying to a flutter just as your shared cum leaks out around his cock.

By this time, Ran is panting and resting a sizable portion of his weight on you, knees knocked loose in his onslaught, pushing you both flat to the chaise cushion, feet dangling off the end.

You still hold each other’s mark in a comforting palm.

He’s speechless as the room fills with heated love declarations amidst passionate sex and bad dialogue. Ran tries to catch his fucking breath. He’s glad you don’t speak either.

Everything about his life—his past, his present, his future—sits utterly raw in front of him, and he can’t cope.

He makes the mistake of peeling his body off yours, releasing you and dislodging your hand. The cold emptiness which immediately sweeps over him is sickening, and Ran barely waits for you to roll onto your back before he wedges himself between your legs again, instinctually laying on his side, pressing his sweater-clad shoulder against your sopping folds just so he can rest his soulmark right on top of yours.

Euphoria returns to his body and mind, thick like honey and all-consuming.

He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to live a moment without you.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mercifully, the audio speaks for him.

“”Can you just…hold me please? That was…that was…””

“”So intense,” Javier rumbles, “so beautiful.””

Ransom, the preening trust fund baby, has finally found something all his own, something he doesn’t want to share, something shown only for him.

He refuses, however, to call it ‘love’…

…yet.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I'm fine.

#ro answers #sundae bar #navy and roo's sleepover #sleepover challenge #summer challenge #happy birthday siri 2024 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #soulmate au

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saiyanprincessswanie · 3 months ago

Text

Love Of My Life

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1675

Summary: When Bucky walks out of your life unexpectedly without a word from him you're left with a broken heart. Three months later he returns, do you forgive him or let him go?

Warnings: angst, begging for forgiveness, happy ending.

Prompt: an old flame rekindled, Theme: Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Inspired by Queen’s “Love of My Life” song

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader @lfnr-blog-blog-blog for reading this for me. All mistakes are my own. Thank you to @fictional-affairs for the lovely moodboard & @whimsicalrogers for my divider.

A/N 2: this was written for the Winds of Autumn Challenge @the-slumberparty

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It’s been three months since Bucky walked out of your life. One day you were a happy, loving couple and the next day Bucky came home from a mission as a changed man. He was anxious, short-tempered, and kept his feelings to himself. He wasn’t the man you fell for all those years ago. When you tried to get him to talk to you he would tell you to “leave it alone.” Then when you didn’t he would storm out the door and not return until you were already in bed. One day he stormed out the door after a fight and he never returned. The love of your life had just hurt you. He swore he would never break your heart yet you stood in your house alone.

It took weeks to figure out what you did wrong. Did you say something wrong or push him too much? But after time went by you figured out it must be him and not you. Something must have spooked him on the mission that rattled him to his core. Whatever it was it must have been something big as nothing seemed to scare Bucky, except his past with Hydra.

Now here you were all alone and trying to pick up the pieces. Since Bucky left abruptly all his things were still scattered across the house and in closets. Maybe one day he would come back, you told yourself. You tried to convince yourself. But for now, you need to try and heal.

So now, three months after he left you to pick up the pieces you got a knock on your front door from an unexpected visitor. You open the door and find Bucky standing at your front door. You were shocked to see him standing there in his jeans, henley, leather jacket, and biker boots. He smirked when he saw you wearing one of his henley shirts and leggings. You didn’t know what to say to him as he looked you over.

“Sweetheart, I know this is a shock but I was wondering if I could come in and talk with you.”

Tears started to gather in your eyes at his words. You turned around leaving the door open for him and headed to the living room. You heard the door close and then his footsteps heading toward you. What did he have to say after three months of being a part? You had to admit you were curious. But the other part of you was angry with him. How dare he show up asking to talk with you when he couldn’t give you the time of day when he left.

You sat on the couch and Bucky joined you on the other side. He watched as you refused to look him in the eye. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting to and watched as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“So, what brings you back after all this time?” You asked.

“I’ve missed you for one thing.” He states as you roll your eyes at him.

“Seriously I have.” He continues. “I knew the day I left was the biggest mistake of my life but I needed help. That mission shook me to my core and I wasn’t the same person when I returned. I was afraid that if I didn’t do something, we would never be together again.”

“You knew it was a mistake to leave and yet you still left. What the hell Bucky I could have helped you if you would’ve just asked me. That’s what a relationship is all about. When one of us is down or struggling the other picks us up. But instead of doing that, you left for three months!”

Your anger was starting to show its ugly face as you couldn’t understand why he thought leaving was a good thing. None of this made sense to you.

“Doll, let me start from the beginning so you might understand. Okay?” He looked at you with pleading eyes as if begging for a chance to be heard.

“That’s fine Bucky.” You softly answer, your hands fidgeting in your lap afraid of what he might say.

“The mission was supposed to be simple. Get in, get the information we need, and wipe the server. Things seemed to be going to plan until over the speaker system I heard the winter soldier trigger words. At first, they didn’t bother me but as they continued I started getting a headache and flashbacks. The words were spoken over and over again until I was finally able to escape. When I got back for debriefing I was still feeling off like something was trying to escape my mind. Then when we went over all the information I had downloaded it had a file called ‘The Winter Soldier reprogramming’ on it. The file showed different strategies on how to bring me back under control by Hydra. It scared me as I’m so afraid to go back under. When I came home I was on edge dreading any minute I could turn on you. So I decided it was best for me to go back to Wakanda to run tests to make sure I never become the soldat again. I left this all in the letter I left you.”

You could understand to an extent why he did what he did but your frustration got the best of you and what did he mean ‘a letter’?

“But why not tell me this in person instead of running away? You should have been honest with me. Instead, you left me brokenhearted and trying to pick up the broken pieces after you left. What letter are you even talking about? I got no letter from you.”

Bucky moves a little closer to you and looks into your eyes. “You’re right, I should have been honest with you in person. But doll, I left you a letter on your nightside table explaining everything. I’m sorry I broke your heart for leaving the way I did. I will do anything and everything to win your trust back. I promise I’m never leaving you like that again. What can I do to prove to you that I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know Bucky…” Your eyes cast downward as you try to figure out what you want to do.

“Doll, please. I’m begging for your forgiveness and a way back to your heart.” Bucky drops to his knees in front of you, grasping your hands like they are a lifeline. He could see you were still hurt and contemplating his words.

You needed to find that letter to see if he was lying to you. Even though your heart was telling you he was being truthful, your mind was spinning a web of deception.

“Bucky, I need a minute to myself.” You stood from the couch looking down at Bucky and offered a small smile. “I’ll be right back.”

You left Bucky in the living room and headed to your shared bedroom. Inside the room you walked to your side of the bed where a table sat. Bending down you looked under the bed and under the table. There was no letter. Pulling the table away from the wall you looked down and there was an envelope. Turning it over in your hands you saw his hand writing with your name on the envelope. Opening the envelope you pull out a letter and your heart sinks.

To my sweetheart,

I’m sorry that I’ve been hard to be around lately. I know my mood has been up and down since I came home from my last mission. The problem is during the mission Hydra tried to use the trigger words on me. It’s causing my mind to question whether or not they worked as my PTSD has been kicking up again and I can’t get this headache to go away. With that said, I'm heading to Wakanda to see if Shuri and Ayo can help me again. The last thing I want to do is hurt you so I must take some time away from you. I promise that I will come back to you. Wait for me.

Forever Yours,

J.B.B.

You sit on the bed and start to cry. He was right, it was all in the letter. How could you be so stupid thinking that he would just leave you without a word. You should have known better. Bucky was your everything.

You hear Bucky walk into the room and feel the bed dip as he sits next to you. Turning into his chest you cried. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

“It’s okay, doll. I gotcha. I promise it will be okay.”

“Bucky…I’m so sorry for thinking the worst of you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t have just left me. Please forgive me.”

Bucky pulls you gently away from him as he takes in your teary eyes and wobbly lip. His flesh hand slowly wipes the tears from your face and he gives a soft smile.

“If anyone should be sorry it’s me. I should have just told you my plan instead of writing it. I caused the pain you’ve been feeling for the last three months. I promise I will take every second of every day to make it up to you. Just give me the chance to do that, doll.”

“I will, Buck. We will work this out. I love you so much.” Your hand runs through his hair and Bucky briefly closes his eyes as he shivers from the feeling.

Opening his eyes again his shining blue eyes stare at you. “I love you too, doll.” Bucky pulls you in for a kiss and puts all his feelings behind it.

Looking back at it you’re happy you made it. You rekindled your feelings for one another and proved to the other that each was unwilling to let the other go anytime soon without a fight. Never did you go through something like this again as you always communicated openly.

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#saiyanprincessswanie #missy writes #love of my life #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #navy and roo's sleepover

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theinheriteddutchess · 45 minutes ago

Text

Well merry Christmas to you too!

Santa Baby

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Not wanting them to feel left out, you show some kindness to a coworker, only to be repaid with a most unexpected act of generosity.

Character: Jake Jensen

Day Six of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another message pops up on the Teams chat, then a reaction. As chair of the social committee, you swiftly open the conversation to review the interaction. The secret santa is a success. So far.

You check another name off your list. You want to make sure that all the exchanges are made. You even arranged to deliver gifts on behalf of those with the day booked off. It’s all going smoothly and you’re a few hours away from declaring another office holiday season a success.

Then you have to worry about the other holiday. The one for your family. Your kids are sorted but the gifts need to be wrapped. And your husband, he’s the nosiest of all. You’ll need to make sure he isn’t sniffing around your bag again.

The presents are just one thing. Your time off won’t be that. You have to drive three hours north to see your family. You still don’t think your sister, Shayna, forgives you for that little argument at Thanksgiving. And if your brother, Jamar, even shows up, that might be worse than the alternative.

Your workday triumph is one thing you can be proud of before your home life implodes.

You run the clock out, your list filling with tick marks. As you reach the one-hour countdown, there’s one name left. Jensen. Strange. He’s handed off his own gift but hasn’t yet received anything. Maybe he just didn’t post in the chat. He does get distracted easily.

As another minute runs off, you jump into action. You head down to accounting to ask Alan about it. He’s swiveling casually in his chair as you approach, nonchalant as she stares at his monitor dully. You say his name to get his attention.

“Hey, just checking in. Going around and making sure everything’s been sorted for the swap. You gave Jensen his present right?”

Alan scoffs and chews the end of a ballpoint, “nah.”

“No?” You frown, “okay, well can you do it by the end of the day--”

“Nope,” he snorts. “Didn’t get one.”

“What?” You have to measure your voice.

“Didn’t feel like it. Guy’s a dweeb.”

“Regardless of your personal feelings, this was voluntary and you signed up,” you chide.

“Mm, kinda too late, isn’t it?” He shrugs and turns back to his screen. “I got a wife who’ll tear my throat out if she doesn’t get a month’s pay in gifts so that goggly-eyed nerd is the least of my worries.”

You sigh. There’s always one bad egg. It’s like when you ask your kids to just not fight for one day. It never happens yet you still keep trying.

“Happy holiday, Alan,” you snipe and stomp away.

You should have expected one thing to go wrong. It always has to and you’re always the one cleaning it up. Why would anyone call this the happiest time of the year? It’s the most stressful and the only thing you ever get are a few new grey hairs.

Well, Kathleen did get you that fancy three-wick candle you plan to put in your bathroom, though you’re not sure how much relaxation you can get when your kids can’t leave you to soak for more than five minutes without interruption. You remind yourself to stop looking for the problems. You’re the problem-solver, not the problem-dweller.

You can figure this out. You go to your desk and grab your purse and nothing else. You hurry out, ignoring several utterances in your direction. If people need you now, well, they should’ve thought of that earlier. It might not be important to them or to your job, but you’d hate to be the only person left out. You have been before. It’s why you’re such a people pleaser.

There’s a hobby shop not far from the office building. You went there for your son’s gift. He’s a big fan of anime. You enter and greet the cashier with an apologetic smile. They are also gearing up for the end of the day.

“Promise, I’ll be quick,” you assure him.

He just shrugs, “no problem, lady.”

You stop and take a breath, gathering your wits into order. Your racing thoughts, your hammering adrenaline, it’s like a platoon of disordered soldiers scattering inside of you. You call them into formation and turn down the center aisle.

You glance over the products on the shelf. Jensen always had that Tetris keychain dangling from his lanyard when he came to troubleshoot. It’s the only video game you ever played, though your daughter let you run around her Animal Crossing island once. She banned you after you offended her favourite cat character.

You bend to the lower shelf, hips straining with the effort, and you claim the box with the red clearance tag, marked right under the spending cap. The mini arcade machine proclaims 30+ games to play, including classics like Pong, Pac-man, his bow wearing counterpart, and Tetris!

You take it to the counter and ask if they do gift wrap. Sorry, no. That’s okay. You pay and mourn the bottle of wine you’ll have to forego to accommodate the extra expense.

You hurry back down the street, without a jacket to protect you from the biting chill or drifting flakes. The snow dampens your face and clothes, catching and melting in your hair as you clack in your heels frantically.

Fifteen minutes left in the day. You rush into the lobby and tap the elevator button impatiently. Screw it.

You tuck the box under one arm and go to the stairs. You take off your heels and clamour up in your stockinged feet. You’re breathless as you get to the top. You push through the heavy metal door and stomp forward, shoes dangling from your fingers.

You ignore the looks sent in your direction. You stop briefly to scratch off the price tag and attempt to compose yourself. You proceed down to IT and approach Jensen as he bites his thumb, his other hand hovering over his keyboard.

His rectangular glasses reflect his screen and his blond hair is spiked only one side as it appears the other has been flattened by anxious palming. You keep from slamming down the box and instead stop beside him. “Excuse me, Jensen.”

“Huh, uh, oh,” he turns his chair and looks up at you. He smooths his Luigi-themed tie as he plants his feet wide. “Oh, hi. Is your PC overheating again--”

“Merry Christmas,” you shove the box towards him, “special delivery.”

He hesitates and pushes his glasses down the bridge of his nose. He blinks as he examines the box. He lowers his hand to his chest and pinches the button of his shirt.

“For me?”

“So sorry, I was running around all day,” you explain. “I meant to get it to your earlier--”

“Really?” He looks at your shoulder and you glance over at the melting snow.

“It was in my car,” you lie swiftly. “I’m sorry, really.”

“No, it’s...” he reaches to take the box, his hands brushing your cold fingers. “Oh gosh, you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him as you retract your hold on the box. He gives you a lingering look before he leans back.

“Huh, this is...” he lowers it to his lap and examines the box. “Really cool. Thanks.” He chuckles tensely, “I almost thought Santa forgot me.”

“Again, I’m sorry,” you say.

“I’m not mad,” he assures you as he turns the box in his hands. “Really. I had to set an alarm to make sure I brought in mine, then another to give it to Terry.”

“That’s a good idea. If we do this again, I’ll have to try that,” you smile. “Well, I hope you enjoy.”

“Totally,” he agrees. “It’ll keep me busy on the time off.”

Wish I had that problem, you think to yourself. “That’s great,” you chime. “Anywho, I don’t wanna keep you since the day’s almost done. I gotta get my desk tidied before I head out.”

“Sure,” he gives a slanted grin, “this is so cool, thank you.” He grips the corners of the box, “I always knew you were the coolest.”

You go back to the desk but the person waiting for you is a bad omen for your holiday. You hide your disappointment as Lee waits, leaning on the corner with arms crossed. You stop behind your chair.

“Hello, Mr. Bodecker--”

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” he intones.

“Right, what’s going on?”

“That new one, the pretty thing, she miscalculated the Dorsey account.”

You deflate. Of course she did. That one hasn’t done a single thing right since she started.

“I’d ask her to redo it but I already did. Three times. Needs to be done for year end or accounting will have my ass in two,” he says without censor.

“And you want me to do it?” You utter.

“See, you always know exactly what needs to be done,” he clucks and stands straight, “double-overtime. It’ll be on your January pay.”

“Right,” you swallow. There’s not denial to be given. Your performance review is also in January and you need the bonus after factoring in the family road trip. “I’ll get it done.”

“Good woman,” he winks. “Put the hours into the system.”

“Sure, happy holidays, sir.”

“Ha,” he snorts, “if my ex-wife has anything to say about it, they won’t be.”

You roll you chair under you and drop your purse between your feet. You send a quick text to your husband. The kids are being dropped off by Hannah anyway. He just needs to be home. Even he can figure out how to reheat the chili you froze last month.

After you get your instructions sent, you turn your attention to your computer. You still have to finish up all your other wrap-up before you get to Dorsey. As you put your nose to the grind, Mary wishes you a happy break on her way out. She's followed by a speckled succession of eager coworkers, ready to begin their time off.

Your eyes haze as the glare of your screen feels brighter with each passing second. You have a prescription but never a change to fill it. You don’t imagine the neglect is making your vision any better.

The office grows desolate as you continue plucking away. As the snow falls on the other side of the windows, they dampen out the noise of the city. You’re isolated in your focus. The files for Dorsey are a complete mess. You're not sure how anyone could fail to balance a spreadsheet. There are very easy formulas to do the work for you.

Mulling over mistakes won’t fix them. Your fingers flutter over the keys as you painstakingly restart the entire workbook from scratch. You’re disappointed, not that you’re stuck in the contradictingly uncomfortable ergonomic chair, but that you won’t get to see your kids or husband for more than an hour or two if that.

You close your eyes as the gridlines burn into them. You lean back and rub your brows. There’s tension sewn into your brows. It’s grim how getting older really dims the sparkle of this time of year. Everyone else gets to be happy and you’re just the courier of that happiness. Maybe that should make you happy, that you can be that for them.

No, it’s just exhausting.

Before you can open your eyes or sit forward, you let out a yelp at the sudden warmth on your shoulders. You twitch and look up at Jensen as he stands behind your chair. Your heart quickly calms.

“Oh, what are you still doing here?” You ask, a tremor of fright in your voice.

“Back-end work,” he answers as he squeezes your shoulders. His touch is unexpected. You wiggle but he doesn’t let you go. “What about you?”

“Just some last-minute quality control,” you answer. “You really snuck up on me.”

“Ha, yeah,” he slowly drags his hands away, his fingers caressing your neck lightly. “Sorry, I... I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

“Yeah, it’s quiet,” you agree.

He leans on the back of your chair as his proximity clouds you. It’s a bit awkward. You just want to get your work done but can’t bring yourself to tell him to go away. Especially knowing what you know. He doesn’t deserve any of that just because he can be a bit different.

“What about your family?” He asks.

You wince and turn the chair to face him. You shrug, “I’ll be a bit late but they’ll survive without me.”

“Sure, sure. You must be excited to spend time with them,” he lets go of your chair and backs up a single step as you look at him.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to see them a bit more,” you agree. “What about you? You doing anything for the holidays?”

He shakes his head as his lips thin, “no. Don’t really got anyone.”

“Ah, well, it’s always a good time to catch up hobbies,” you offer.

He nods and his throat bobs. He shoves his hands into his pockets. He looks sad in that moment. He’s still pretty young, you want to tell him to enjoy singlehood while he can. Yet you remember being in your late twenties and how those comments just made you feel worse. All the same, that feels so long ago.

“I know what you did,” he says.

“Pardon?” You sputter in confusion.

“I know Alan got me. I overheard him when we got our names.”

“Oh,” you’re speechless but for that single syllable.

“It’s alright. I know people don’t always get me but... you know, you didn’t have to do all that just for me,” he shifts sheepishly on his feet, his cheeks tinging as he looks at the floor.

“Well, it isn’t fair, is it?” You say.

“Yeah, but...” He looks up shyly from behind his glasses, “you must be a good mom. And a good wife.”

You’re not sure how to reply, “thank you? I try.”

“Your kids and husband are very lucky,” he smirks.

“Sure, I’m not sure they think so,” you say. “Waiting around for me to come home...”

You go to turn back to your desk, but he’s quicker than you. He startles you as he grabs the arm of your chair and keeps you facing him. You press yourself against in as he bends over you.

“Doesn’t sound like they appreciate you,” he says.

“Jensen,” you murmur, “that’s... no, they’re my family. They do.” You spread your fingers over your thighs nervously. “Can you back up?”

You cry out as he answers the question by pushing your chair back against the desk. The impact jars you as he leans in, closer and closer. You flatten yourself to the thin cushion and he plants a kiss on your forehead.

“I appreciate you,” he whispers, his nose tickling your hairline.

“Jensen, please, that’s not--”

“Shhhh,” he hushes you as he drops to his knees before you. “I disabled the cameras...”

“Jensen, what?” You squirm and grab the armrests. You try to push yourself to your feet and he slaps his hand against your stomach, shoving you back down. “Get off--”

“They don’t treat you right. No one does.”

"Jensen, that's sweet of you to say but please--"

"Let me be sweet to you," he begs as he clings to your knees, thumbs sliding under the hem of your skirt.

You grab the fabric as he tries to slide it up. You put your other hand on his chest as you sit forward. "No, okay, I know the holidays are hard but--"

"I just wanna give you a gift. Since you gave me one," he purrs.

"It's-- no, okay," you grab his wrist and your other hand slips up to shove his shoulder. "I'm married." He bends his head to brush his chin against your knuckles, like a cat eager for pets. The gesture fills you with pity, but cannot undercut your revulsion. "I said--" You push him again and he twists his arm free of your grasp.

He grabs your wrists and lifts your hands. He squeezes and you feel his strength; even if he wasn't younger, you'd be just as helpless. He pulls your arms and puts your hands against his head. You feel the soft short bristle and shudder. He covers your hands with his and holds them snug.

"Don't let go," he commands. His voice deepens, a razor's edge in his words. You stare at him dumbly. You don't dare disobey. It's as if your body is not your own as it refuses to respond to your fear. That inner plea is smothered by the pounding of your heart.

He lets you go cautiously and drops his hands to your thighs. You flinch and let out a squeak. He glides down the pushes his hands under the fabric, hooking it with his thumbs as he forces it higher. You shiver at the sensation of his palms against your stockings.

As he grazes along the naked skin above, you whimper. He hooks his hands around your hips and runs them under you, lifting you slightly to rumple your skirt below your waist. You shake as your hands remain glued to his head.

You watch yourself from above as the scene plays out. The dimples in your thighs quake as horror floods your body. He slowly bends to press the tip of his nose against the front of your panties. He prods you through the fabric and hums. He swirls around, teasing you through the tenuous layer.

Your hands fall away but he doesn’t notice. He’s too fixated on his prize. He tilts your hips, pulling you down in the chair as he moves your legs around him. Your lip trembles and your teeth grit, eyes hot in disbelief and disgust. How is this happening?

He brings your knees over his shoulders then runs a finger up the back of your plain white cotton panties. The type that hardly get your husband in such a furor. He traces the edge and tugs it aside.

You cry out as his tongue flicks along your folds. It feels like the first time all over again. You’re not neglected, just overworked and overtired. You don’t have the energy or the time. It doesn’t mean you’re lonely. Just busy.

He pushes his face deep and laps you up, spreading his tongue as he tastes you with a growl. You clench the armrest, your other hand catching the top of his head as you try to urge him away. You croak and your cries crackle in the air.

“Jensen,” you squeal.

He pokes his tongue along your entrance and drags it up to your clit, then back down again. The tendrils crawl down your thighs as he reaches blindly for your hand. He moves it behind his head and presses it there. As he does, he nuzzles into you.

He wiggles his head as he drinks you up. Your legs tense and your fingernails dig into his scalp between the short stubble of his hair. His glasses are crushed against your pelvis, forgotten as he devours you. You whine and close your eyes but you can still see yourself, like you’re watching a movie in your head.

You see yourself giving in, melting into him, clinging to him as the coil winds tighter and tighter. As your orgasm builds, you feel yourself splitting into two. There is the body curled up in the chair, wrapped around his head, and the consciousness watching from outside.

And it all evaporates into pleasure. Into forgotten wrongs and broken morals. Reality gives way to escape as you give into the stolen delight erupting from head to toe, as you give in to this man on his knees before you, begging you with the flick of his tongue.

#dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #december daze #navy and roo's sleepover #fanfiction

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steviebbboi · 4 months ago

Text

Once Upon A Friendship

Pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.6k~ guys i obviously have a problem, my fics just keep getting longer and longer and idk how to stop

Rating: Teens and up!

Disclaimer: Well, well, here we are~ submitting this lil ficlet for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge using the following prompts: carnival/county fair + forced proximity + "You think that's blood?". & Because I also wanted to engage with our writers community even more cuz <3, -- I'm also submitting this to @the-slumberparty Sundae Bar challenge: Chocolate (secrets will be REVEALED), butter scotch (childhood friends and the feelz is real 🥹), french vanilla (cause forced proximity trope was inevitable for our reader), w/ toppings of chocolate syrup (established relationship), graham crackers (flashback-backstory heavy), and toasted almonds (🫣get ready for some angst).

Summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cuteeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: Minors just be mindful that this has mentions of teenage sexual activity but not explicit (all age appropriate) but adding my warning below just in case, explicit language in few pieces of dialogue, ANGST with a happy ending, childhood besties to enemies/strangers, bucky, wanda, and nat are your besties too, steve is a shit communicator, both steve and reader are young and a bit naive, cheesiness ensues, fluff, work is not beta'd so any grammar mistake is my bad!!

*Any comments/reblogs are much appreciated and are so encouraging - more than you know. Pls don't hesitate to interact with me <3

“Argh, Wanda, no– I told you, I hate these things!” You whined despondently while grabbing at her arm.

“Look, you only have to go straight in and see it all the way through! It’s not like there’s any detours.” Wanda replied while giving you a deadpan look.

You returned the look with your own mocking face, “Wan, you know that isn’t the reason why I hate these things! They grab at you and try to scare you.” You shivered at the thought of one of the maze actors dragging you away somewhere where you couldn’t be found.

“Well…that is their job, y’know?” Wanda said, holding her chin in mock thought. You scoffed and shoved her playfully while she giggled at you.

“Plus, it’s so hot out! It’s probably so stuffy in there, especially if we go in with a random group.” You complained while attempting to fan yourself while holding your hair up off your neck. This summer was brutal, you couldn’t believe that anyone would be at the carnival fair today. But alas, everyone seems to want to enjoy the last throes of summer.

“We won’t go in with a random group - Nat said that they’re going to meet up with us before we go in.” Wanda said distractedly while taking out her phone, assuming that she was going to be checking in with Natasha.

Your brain took a second to process what she just said before you froze, your mouth agape, “Wait, ‘th-they’re’? Don’t tell me…”

Wanda stood ramrod still as if lightning just struck. The finger that was twirling her own hair froze its mindless motions as she stared at her phone unblinkingly as she realized her mistake.

“Argh, Wanda!” You hissed out and covered your face with both of your hands in genuine despair.

Wanda held a guilt-ridden expression, “Oh no, I’m so sorry, chip – I completely forgot that he would be coming-- honest!”

You released a heavy sigh and closed your eyes to mentally prepare yourself for dealing with the person that you despised the most in this world.

Steve Rogers. The bane of your existence.

Well, not really (-ish).

He also happened to be a guy that you have been crushing on since you were 10 years old.

Did he know this? No. But even if he did, you would be the last person on Earth that he would pick. How do you know this, do you ask?

You and Steve knew each other since you were basically in diapers. Alongside Bucky and Nat, the four of you grew up together. Although, that didn’t stop you from drawing the short end of the stick when dealing with your pre-pubescent teen years.

You were a late bloomer– while Nat developed boobs and became a natural flirt at 13 years of age, you were still dealing with the bullies at 13 years old whilst trying to navigate hormones, underdeveloped boobs and pre-teen acne. Bucky quickly developed a barely there mustache and a smirk that made all of the other girls swoon (though, you were convinced that it was really just for Natasha instead). And Steve…well, Steve was like you. Underdeveloped, skinny, no hair to be found on his face. He was as tall as you, and dealt with the bullies way worse off than you ever had to do.

But that didn’t stop you from falling in love with Steve Rogers.

Steve was one of your best friends. He always looked after you, whether it were mean girls coming to pick on you again or making sure that you got lunch together. You walked home together, stayed at each other’s houses to study or play video games. You developed a routine where one day in a week, you would order a chocolate chip milkshake while he got a vanilla whip at your local diner, and stayed there for hours just talking about your common interests together. Steve gave you your nickname, ‘chip,’ since he constantly made fun of the fact that you got the same milkshake everytime.

You also remember when the both of you decided to be each other’s first kiss. It was awkward and weirdly coordinated, but it was nice and you trusted each other. You both laughed afterwards and hugged, swearing to each other your friendship was still intact. When your parents would make playful jokes or tease you about when you and Steve were going to be a couple, you blushed and would shy away.

Where Steve was, you were there too.

You were basically inseparable as you both knew that you two were the underdogs of the group. Bucky and Nat quickly became the ‘It’ power couple as you all entered into highschool. Steve and you were the glue to your little gang and it just felt so nice to not be alone.

Thankfully, you were able to grow more into yourself by the time that you were 16 years old. Your skin cleared up a bit as you learned to develop a skin care routine, and your boobs started to actually look like there were two of them. Though, you never could quite get past the social isolations (despite the fact that your two best friends were the hottest and the most popular kids at school).

And while you changed a little bit, Steve…well– Steve changed alot. It was like one day he just woke up and became the guy that he was always meant to be. He started developing a build and grew a beard, had a huge growth spurt and joined the football team. He became strong and capable of anything. But, he was still Steve. He continued fighting for the ‘little guy’ even though he became on par with Bucky and Nat’s social class at school.

Unfortunately, with Steve’s new social status came the one thing that you couldn’t compete with: Sharon Carter.

Captain of the cheerleading team, it was almost natural for Steve and her to become a couple. You remembered the day that Steve and you hung out after school for your regular milkshake when he told you quietly that Sharon asked him out to the junior year annual dance. He blushed beautifully as he told his best friend the news, and you made sure to plaster on a fake smile and told him that you were happy for him.

After he took you home, you did your homework, took a shower– and as you got into bed, you cried yourself to sleep feeling utterly alone for the first time in your life.

Things changed after that. Steve couldn’t walk you home because he was walking Sharon home. He couldn’t play video games with you at yours because he was at Sharon’s. Then, he started canceling your daily milkshake hang outs.

“I’m sorry, Chip- I have practice to get to.”

“Sharon mentioned that she needed my help today. I’ll see you next week.”

But next week came and went, and still no Steve.

You quickly realized that Steve was blowing you off when you caught him making out with Sharon at the library in school when he told you the day before that he was going to be at football practice.

You didn’t mean to catch him at all - but you heard noises and glanced over to see him and Sharon behind the well-known ‘hook up’ section of the library. You squeaked in surprise since they were only half clothed, Steve with his shirt off and Sharon in only her bra. As you stood there shocked, you caught Steve’s widened eyes as they both turned to look at you. Sharon was pretty annoyed that you interrupted them (clocking her narrowed glare), but Steve at least had the decency to look embarrassed as they both put their clothes back on.

The shock of catching him in the act wasn’t as surprising (as much as it broke your heart, you knew that people in relationships would typically take it to that level fairly quickly). What was surprising was Steve’s reaction. You thought that maybe he would apologize for lying to you, or for blowing you off as many times as he did. But instead, he cleared his throat and his eyes became more stern as he didn’t say a word. He took Sharon’s hand in his and left.

You remembered standing there for another 5 minutes until you saw another couple glare at you as they took Steve and Sharon’s space. You didn’t even get what you came for– you walked straight home, crying, despondent over losing your best friend. (It was the movie scene where the side character gets discarded and cries silently in the rain - you felt so pathetic).

From that point forward, you didn’t bother texting Steve anymore. And he didn’t ever attempt to text you. He ignored you in the hallways and you didn’t ever look up at him when you would pass each other either.

Throughout all this, Nat and Bucky were there for you when you came to them about what happened and your waning friendship with Steve. Nat was pissed while Bucky looked confused as to how your friendship could change so quickly. Even though they were still close with Steve too, Nat and Bucky made sure to include you more during their hangouts or offer to take you home, which you felt grateful for, but it didn’t change the fact they had each other. And that you were still alone.

College was your wake up call to move on from Steve Rogers. You applied to universities that were all out of state, intentionally left your decision last minute so that no one could talk you out of it. Your parents didn’t approve but ultimately respected your decision.

You remembered graduation where all of your parents made you take a group photo on the bleachers. Nat and Bucky were on the higher step as you and Steve took the lower one. It was awkward as you two barely looked at each other, and fumbled on where to place your hands. It was Bucky who eventually groaned exasperatedly and placed your hand on Steve’s back while he placed his around your waist.

You recall the moment that really ended things between you and Steve, which was a party at one of Bucky's friends’ places. Nat and Bucky invited you to come in order to have your ‘last high school experience’ (whatever that meant). Unbeknownst to them, you were leaving the next day for settling in your new university halfway across the world.

The party was blasting obnoxious EDM and the house was littered with red solo cups and other kids yelling at each other as they played beer pong. Feeling so displaced, you took a beer and headed upstairs to look for an empty room.

Just your luck, you would enter the one that had Sharon (again, half-naked) on top of Steve (who was again, also shirtless) on the bed. You obviously interrupted them in the middle of something again. As they both turned to look at you, Sharon groaned your name in annoyance with an ‘ugh, seriously?!” and for you to ‘‘get out.’’ You couldn’t help but ignore her as you looked at Steve once more.

He had this same look of annoyance in his eyes as he sat up on the bed that was so unfamiliar. You’ve never seen Steve look at you like that before– as if you were a nuisance or some sort of insignificant thing. It was the same look that he gave you at the library. He became the bully that he used to protect you from when you were kids.

Something took over you in that moment where you felt your already fragile heart just shatter into several pieces. Though, somehow, all traces of self-pity and loneliness left your body as you coldly looked over at this stranger that you realized you maybe never really knew in the first place. In that moment, you tuned out Sharon’s nasty words, and only looked at Steve with an intentional, apathetic glint in your eyes.

The words just slipped out before you could even process them:

“I wish that I had never met you.”

You could mutedly hear Sharon scoff and give some sort of insult (you couldn’t really remember honestly) since the only thing that you waited for, and wanted to notice, was Steve’s reaction. You watched as the traces of annoyance in his eyes glazed out and changed into something that looked akin to shock, panic and something else that you couldn’t place.

Satisfied with finally being able to impact him for once, and to let him know how much you hated him in that moment, you turned to leave determinedly– you were pretty sure that you heard him yell out your name before you left but you slammed the door hard, ran down the stairs, and out of the house until you made the trek home.

You told yourself that night, as angry tears fell out onto your pillow in your childhood bedroom, that you would move on from Steve Rogers. That you deserved more and that you were going to make space for yourself in your own way.

As you settled into your new apartment, met Wanda as your new roommate (and now your certified best friend), you received a call from Nat and a text from Bucky.

Natasha was, naturally, upset at you for leaving without telling her. She made you promise to never do that again and to come to her more when you needed her. You felt one piece of your heart pull together again at how sincere and emotional Nat was on the phone. You realized that you may have also neglected your best friend when you and Steve were close, and promised her on the phone to never let that happen again.

Bucky sent a text saying, “Dude, what the fuck,” which is pretty polite for him, considering the context. You apologized and explained to him your desire to build your own life and while he was still mad at you, he expressed his understanding and respect for your decision.

Bucky and your relationship was never very close like Steve’s and his was, but he always looked after you (in his own way). You felt protected by Bucky in ways that you couldn’t with anyone else, and you knew that he would always ultimately support you as he would his younger sister. He told you to text him if anyone were to bother you, and you promised that you would check in with him daily.

You did receive one text from Steve: “I’m sorry for everything, chip.” That was all he wrote.

You glared at your phone and deleted his text, so overwhelmed with your anger and determination to remove Steve Rogers from your life. It seemed as if your lack of response was enough for him to get the message that you were done since he didn’t text you since that day.

At Uni, you really grew and developed into yourself. You became involved in college campus life, got a job as a TA, had a boyfriend or two. You dated one guy for six months before calling it off since you were better off as friends, and any other flings that you’ve had were short-lived or just didn’t land well enough to be in a committed relationship.

But you learned alot from these relationships and ultimately felt grateful to connect with people as you proved to yourself that you were something without the people back home. That you were more than the girl who loved Steve Rogers. You were proud of yourself for that.

Flashforward to now, you’ve just finished your freshman year of college. You’re visiting home for the summer to visit your parents, and to visit Bucky and Natasha, both of them ultimately decided to attend one of the local colleges. You kept your promise with them and stayed close, and even brought Wanda back with you– since introducing her to them last week, she became fast friends with your childhood friends.

You haven’t really spoken to Steve since that last stint in high school. Considering that your two best friends were still close with him too, and your families were all close, you couldn’t exactly avoid him. But you never talked about what happened in highschool. At the chance that you would see and interact with each other, you would greet him politely even though there was still some animosity there.

Steve wasn’t outwardly mean or rude, and he would try to talk with you more than once before in the past year, but you were evasive everytime in avoiding anything deeper than a “hello, how are you doing?.” You would stuff down the guilt from his disappointed and hurt expressions as you actively avoided him. You brushed off your friends who were begging you to try to repair your friendship with Steve– and just go back to school, blissfully living in ignorance.

But now, as you stood in line awkwardly waiting for the Summer Queens County Fair’s haunted corn maze with Steve (your friends suddenly “needing” to get some drinks or go to the bathroom while Steve and you waited for tickets in line), you felt like you wanted to pass away from the how thick the tension filled the air.

You could practically feel Steve’s tense energy in attempting to engage you in conversation. And damn him, he looked good. His muscles looked even fuller as they were accentuated by a basic white tee, and his beard- argh, his beard- only made his features even more rugged and handsome.

You hated the way that he could still make your heart flutter, even after all this time had passed.

“So,” you almost jumped when he finally broke the silence. “How have you been, chip?”

You felt yourself take a minute to defrost your stiff and frozen body as you turned to look at him. You met his curious gaze and said blatantly, “I’ve been okay.”

Silence filled the space again as your bluntness seemed to envelop the air around you. “Uh, that’s good. Are you…–how are you finding your classes?”

You looked back at him with narrowed eyes and just felt a rush of frustration move through you seeing his eager expression, that puppy dog look that always made you feel empathy for him suddenly made you feel annoyed and impassive.

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.” You said to him bluntly while crossing your arms defensively.

Steve’s own eyes narrowed in confusion and he swallowed heavily. He seemed to be thrown off by your comment. “I’m just trying to get to know you again, chip–”

“Well, I don’t want you to get to know me, Steve, okay?!” You interrupted him as your voice raised before lowering in the latter half.

Looking up at him, you met his eyes for the third time that night, but what you didn’t expect to see was that he looked so crestfallen and sad.

The guilt that has built up over the past few years swooped in and rested heavily in your chest. Instantly regretting your outburst, you sighed, “Look, I just think that we may be better off just not talking to each other, okay. We don’t have to try to be friends again just because our friends forced us to finally interact with each other since highschool.”

Steve winced at your cutting words, and he still had this sadness on his face as he looked down at his feet before he said quietly, “I’m not trying to…–I just…it’s been a long time, chip. The last time that I saw you, with Sharon and with what you said, I–,” you both winced in that quick rehash of the incident. Steve finished with a weary sigh, “Honestly, I just miss you.”

You frowned when listening to his words as the sincerity behind it felt displaced, and out of nowhere. You also couldn't help but feel concerned as you really looked at him. Outwardly, Steve looked as put together as he usually did. But people weren’t used to seeing him the way that you had growing up.

Looking closer, his eyes weren’t as bright as they could be, and they looked tired. Slight dark circles were forming underneath his dim eyes, shading his fully bearded face that was just a tad unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well and his shoulders had a hunch to them that could be perceived as calmness when you knew that it more resembled a tiredness or despondence.

Your frown was still on your face as you elected to ignore his declaration of missing you and simply asked, “Are you okay, Stevie?”

At your question, Steve noticeably straightened up and his mouth parted in surprise that reflected in his eyes. You both stood there for a moment as you stared at him with concern and him looking at you with…mirth? With your lips pursed, you glanced at him with narrowed eyes at seeing the humor alight in his eyes, brightening them a bit more towards its familiar shade of cerulean blue.

“Okay, what just happened?” You asked suspiciously.

Steve’s eyes brightened more and the grin that was growing on his face grew even larger into a soft smile. “You called me Stevie.”

You lurched back a bit as you replayed the moment briefly in your head and stuttered a bit at the realization. You hadn’t meant to call him that at all, but when you saw that sad look on his face and the signs of it on his body, you couldn’t help but recall moments similar to when you were just kids, walking home, checking in with each other during similar moments, but experiencing these things together.

“Uh- I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you–,” You blushed and stuttered as you tried and failed at attempting to save your slip.

“No,” Steve interrupted you, his smile wilting a little bit. “Please, don’t apologize for that. I,– I miss us when we were just kids. Nobody calls me that anymore, well, beyond Nat and Buck, of course.” He said sheepishly while running his hand through his hair, disheveling it even more into a natural, annoyingly perfect quaff.

You gave him an assented hum and cleared your throat as you looked back down at your feet, giving the flattened grass an invisible kick. You both were quiet again but the awkward animosity wasn’t as present as it was before. You both shifted on your feet a bit more before glancing up at each other from time to time, barely missing each others’ eyes before finally, your gazes met each other at the right time.

He was looking at you differently– this time with that good-natured smile and levity in his eyes that glinted at you with that same ‘something else’ that you couldn’t quite put a finger on a year ago.

His small grin was reluctantly infectious as you felt your lips start to curve upwards as a response.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes trying to stuff down your smile as you replied with a cheap response. Memories surfaced again of your witty banter that you used to share that always started with Steve’s little smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you opened them again to meet his own humorous gaze.

Steve’s soft smile grew into a teasing smirk, “That’s good, at least I got a smile and a laugh from you before you start to avoid me again.”

You only gave him an incredulous look at how blatantly out of pocket that sounded before letting out a sudden, full belly-laugh with him. You couldn’t believe that you were laughing again with Steve Rogers.

You felt this feeling again too - it wasn’t heartbreak, but rather, the shattered pieces that were shoddily put together again throughout the years felt solidified just a little bit more.

The laughs died down and the both of you remained standing there with genuine grins on your face. Before you lost your nerve, you felt a sudden urge to have him listen to you, to hear you, and to understand what really happened between you two.

“Steve–,”

“Chip, I–”

You both looked at each other and laughed for a moment before he indicated for you to go first. His grin looked so boyish and sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him as you two were just high school kids in Brooklyn again. Comfortable and authentic, together.

About to open your mouth, you get interrupted again by the person that you least expected to see on your visit back home.

“Chip? Steve? Oh my gosh, is that you two? Wow, chip! Look at you, you certainly grew into yourself!” Sharon’s pitched voice pierced the mutual bubble that was starting to form between you and Steve and flattened its existence.

You gave her a quick glance over and were internally surprised to see that she seemed to be exactly the same. Her eyeliner framed her hazel brown eyes that were widened in what looked like surprise, and with a hint of condescension (cause why wouldn’t she look down upon you with all of that pity). Her blonde hair resting softly down her back as she stood there in her floral skirt, her friends right behind her glancing over at you and Steve disinterestedly.

You stood there and gave her a fake shoddy grin as you greeted her back politely. “Sharon, wow, hi.” Your monotonous tone couldn’t be covered up in time before the words left your mouth.

She only gave you a dull hum before she glanced over at Steve with a smirk. “Hi Steve, how are you?”

The curious part of you couldn’t help but try to catch Steve’s reaction to her presence. You had no idea where things left with them since you left that day, and you never bothered to ask your friends either. Assessing him, he was looking at her with a nonchalant expression, and you were unsure of how deliberate his reaction was as he made small talk with her.

Trying to gauge his expression, there wasn’t any sadness present in his eyes anymore, nor was there any mirth. But, you did notice a stiffness there. The corner of his eyes crinkled a little too harshly as he forced a polite smile onto his face. You could see his jaw clench as Sharon droned on about her college experience.

Time couldn’t erase the fact that you did know Steve Rogers for some time– and when he was uncomfortable, he wasn't able to hide it at all.

The theatrical tunes of the fair and the echoes of people screaming in mirth and laughter suddenly came back in as you hear the booth employee for the haunted corn maze (this line was way too long for what it was worth) call for you and Steve to step on up.

You couldn’t stifle the quiet mutter under your breath, “thank god” as a wave of relief flooded through your body at being able to escape the dangers that you just experienced as you turned around to follow the employee to the front of the maze. You didn’t even say bye to Sharon, and you didn’t even realize that your friends hadn’t returned from their supposed tasks.

Your mutter may have been louder than you thought as you heard a snort from beside you. Glancing over, Steve was looking down at you with a returned humor that you just rolled your eyes at him. “Well, it’s not like you wanted to be there anymore than I did. Your tells are still exactly the same, Stevie.” You said derisively.

Ignoring the harshness of your tone, Steve only smiled more as you slipped boundaries again. You only caught it when you saw that he was simply just staring at you in response. Only then did you catch it and you rolled your eyes again with a small smile. His smile grew more as he intentionally leaned and walked into your path as you both followed the employee. You stumbled to your left at his deliberate clumsiness and shoved him away from you playfully before you could stop yourself.

You’re teasing around with Steve Rogers. And reluctantly admitting, you weren’t unhappy about it.

You both continued to shove each other away as Steve kept teasing you until you reached the front of the maze. The employee turned to face you before you went inside to explain the rules and you were listening attentively until you heard a throat clear from behind you. Looking back, you see that it's Sharon and her friends.

Trying to, but unsuccessfully, cover your agape mouth at seeing that they were actually following behind you this entire time, you clenched your jaw with annoyance and turned to face forward again.

The despair that you felt come in earlier from Steve’s arrival has returned tenfold with Sharon’s presence. Paired with the fact that you’re being forced to have entered a haunted corn maze, your hackles rise angrily at the fact that you’re being forced into a situation with both Steve and Sharon that you didn’t even wanna be a witness to, AGAIN.

Feeling suddenly so tired and exhausted, you let out a despondent sigh, “Okay, are we doing this or what?” The employee merely raised their eyebrows before motioning you to move forward in the maze.

You could feel Steve’s eyes following you as he tried to walk next to you, but you could hear Sharon trying to engage with him again. You could hear him respond but you didn't really care anymore. You didn't mean to be rude, but you were feeling resentful of all of it again. Especially hearing Sharon’s whiny voice trying to speak with Steve right directly behind you, you once again felt utterly alone.

Torches and string lights lit up the corn maze. Although, the night sky was void of any lights or stars, which made the maze really feel like a maze– isolated and desolate. You could hear Sharon’s two friends in the back muttering that they were scared as they let out occasional, little screams at any sounds that could be heard (even if it was just the wind grazing the corn harshly, or honestly, the sounds of their own footsteps, ha.)

Feeling so bored and wanting to leave, you turned around to just go back when you saw Sharon holding on to Steve’s arm with a worried look on her face.

You were passing by some rows of hay with a sticky red substance spilling all over it when you heard Sharon’s small screech.

“Omg, you think that’s blood?,” She said with a genuinely worried tone.

You wanted to laugh so bad as you looked over at Steve, just in time to see the rolling of his eyes and heavy sigh. She seemed to be grasping onto him with an even tighter grip and although Steve wasn’t shaking her off, he did have that uncomfortable look on his face again.

His second aggravated sigh and furrowed brows gave away his annoyance as he attempted to subtly create some space between his body and her touch. You turned forward again as the laughter erupted in your throat, but you managed to stifle it in time with a pursed smile on your face at hearing Sharon’s affronted noise in response.

You could read a mean girl from far away at this point – Sharon’s attitude wasn’t lost on you nor was her sudden closeness with Steve. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would, even if you found out that they were still together after high school. Honestly, a part of you felt satisfied that Steve, the one responsible for the existing tension between you in the first place, was finally just as uncomfortable as you were. To see Sharon offended and to see Steve’s discomfort made you feel a sense of justice and a resurged faith in good ol’ karma.

That pride you felt in being able to find your own comfort in your healing made you feel giddy. You weren’t in any sense of a relationship that held any drama. It felt good to know that the forced proximity didn’t just affect you at this moment. Yeah, sucks to suck, doesn’t it?

You flinched a few times as you continued walking throughout the maze with some actors coming out to scare you, but as you saw the glaring red Exit sign, you couldn’t wait to get outta there. Speed walking at this point, you were determined to walk out of this maze with your gaze forward, determined to not look back at the two sore points of the past few years.

You made it to the exit and sighed in relief. You were already a few paces away when you heard Steve call for you.

“Wait, chip! –”

The body is a wonder - your mind was so fixated on leaving but when you heard him call out for you, your mind flashed to the both of you waiting in line, flashed to the sounds of your laughter mixing together, the feeling of him leaning into you. You didn’t want to but, suddenly, your feet just stopped in place and you turned around to look over at him. Hope swelled in your chest…

And there was Steve. And Sharon. Kissing.

You inhaled deeply at the sight, not expecting to have caught them, yet again, mid-kiss. The tension knotting in your stomach finally exploded, and your stomach dropped making your feet feel so heavy. It was like watching a car crash happening in front of you - you felt fixated and couldn’t move, turn away. The hope that was swelling in your chest evaporated like mist, and you felt so foolish. The pieces that were somehow lodged together again from your earlier interaction broke into pieces, and felt grinded into dust. The wind took its opportune moment to breeze through your hair, and it almost felt like it intentionally took your longing for your best friend again with it.

Steve gripped Sharon’s arms harshly, shoving her away from him with an angry expression on his face. “Sharon, what the hell?!” He exclaimed. Turning away from Sharon and her pouted expression, his widened eyes frantically found yours.

Even a few feet away, the panic that you saw in them was familiar. You remember seeing it exactly when you had severed the existing relationship between you and Steve that night.

You couldn’t help your reactiveness– you were feeling so triggered by what you were witnessing. Your vision started to get blurry as you felt that familiar burning sensation building in your eyes. The panic in Steve’s eyes intensified at the sight, and when he made a move to step forward, your feet instinctively took one step back.

Completing the reenacted memory, you felt your mouth press into a hardened line as you met his gaze with a ferocious determination. Familiar numbness rose up and a lethargic apathy just washed over you. You bravely met his gaze and although the words weren’t being said, you and Steve both heard the words.

“I wish that I had never met you.”

The truth was, the anger and rage that you were feeling (and let’s be honest, the resentment that you suppressed and just gaslit yourself into reframing it as healing) was just the surface. Underneath, a deep and hollow feeling of just being unwanted and undesirable bubbled up with a vengeance. You didn’t wanna hear it, but you were tired, were abandoned by your friend(s), and energy depleted from tonight’s event. You knew you couldn’t be there any longer.

Your feet continued to step back slowly as you heard Steve asking for you to please wait - but then Sharon took his arm again needily and you took that as your opportunity to bolt.

You dropped your teary-eyed gaze away from his almost desperate looking one, mumbled out a quick excuse and left with a brisk nod. It was just like when you were 17 again, you heard Steve call out your name again but you don’t stop to look. You didn’t see him staring after you so longingly and looking so dejected, nor did you see him blatantly remove his arm from Sharon’s grip again while they hushed out intense looking whispers at each other.

The parking lot of the carnival was in sight as you wiped away the bitter tears from your face. You knew that leaving was immature of you, and you knew that you would disappoint your friends. You knew that you were breaking your promises to Nat and Bucky (and now Wanda) about talking with them before making any impulsive decisions.

You reached your old pick-up and opened the door harshly. The tears wouldn’t stop as you stood outside the car. Almost child-like, your hands curled into fists as you brought them to your eyes and just sobbed.

For a moment there, you thought that maybe…maybe you could start again. Maybe you and Steve could rekindle your friendship, or at least, talk things through. You thought that maybe you’d be able to continue laughing again. You shook your head, feeling so much pity for yourself.

Heaving out another wilted sigh, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back to allow the fresh winded air to dry your tears upon your chilled face. You needed time to think, and you knew exactly where you wanted to go, and what you needed.

The sweetness of the chocolate shavings melted in your mouth, leaving only the sugary taste behind. You took another sip of your milkshake and made sure to swipe some whipped cream from the top for an extra sweet finish.

The diner was mostly empty, spare a truck driver or two sitting by the bar tops. You mindlessly stir your milkshake some more with the plastic straw and couldn’t help but relieve another sigh from your body. You came to the diner for nostalgia’s sake, and a chocolate chip milkshake was always a huge dopamine boost for whenever you were feeling sad.

But this time, getting your favorite milkshake at the diner left more of a sour taste in your mouth as each sip just reminded you of Steve.

You decided that you would try to bring yourself to feeling better before you left for home, which meant drinking your milkshake, making small talk with Betty (the sweet, old waitress who has been giving you milkshakes for free since you were a teenager), and settling the grievances that you could actually fix.

You instantly texted Wanda to let you know that you had left the carnival, and that you hoped that she was having fun going to the bathroom for the past hour. Instantly receiving an apologetic text back for ditching you with Steve, you figured it was as good a time as any to also let her know that she would have to ride back with Bucky and Nat (given the fact that you also had basically left her there too). She sent you the mouth wide open face emoji, and you knew that you both could call it even.

Nat texted you a selfie of her and Bucky pouting remorsefully. It was enough to make you crack a grin (Bucky looked so ridiculous). You demurely sent them back a picture of your middle finger (because you were the bigger person of course), which only had her text back an apology with an IOU. You knew that they were only trying to be your friends, but at least you would have this photo as blackmail for future purposes.

You started to play a game on your phone mindlessly when you heard the door ring, indicating a new customer walking in. Not even looking up, you proceeded to win the next level of the game until someone set another chocolate chip milkshake down on your table.

“Oh, it’s okay, Bet, I didn’t want–,” you started to say as you looked up. But it wasn’t Betty who dropped off the milkshake.

It was Steve.

Your eyes widened a bit in just processing that he was actually there, standing in front of you. He actually came to find you? The scene from earlier was so crystal clear and akin to your high school memory, you were convinced that that would be it. As you sat there staring doe-eyed at Steve, the scene had felt like it glitched as it was now playing out differently than you had expected.

Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze focused on Steve’s determined facial expression. You turned forward to face your new milkshake and deliberately avoided his narrowed gaze. You could feel him still staring at you and you shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything but moved to sit across from you in the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh of his own as he did too.

You kept your eyes down as the both of you let the silence permeate the air around you. A few minutes passed before you were about to officially just get up and leave when Steve broke the silence first.

“I swear,” he turned to look over at you with an exasperated gaze. “I had no idea that she was going to be there.”

A disbelieving scoff came out of your mouth and you rolled your eyes blatantly. “Steve stop, again, you don’t have to do this – “

“Stop saying that, chip!” His voice was filled with a sternness that you couldn’t ignore. Your eyes widened at him as he continued, “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Not cause Bucky, or Nat, or your family told me to or forced me to. I found you - and I asked you to wait earlier and you ran away, again!”

A glare scrunched up your face as your fury rose up at the audacity of his scolding, “Excuse me?! I didn’t want to wait because I didn’t want to watch you and Sharon sucking each other’s faces off, again!” You flourished your mocking with a tight expression and only caused Steve to oppose you even more.

“She was the one who kissed me – I didn’t want to be there with her either. I haven’t even seen or spoken to Sharon since you left!” Steve blurted out.

Your heart felt like it was racing in your chest and your mind blanked at hearing Steve’s reveal as you tried to stutter out a response. “What– I don’t–,” words were hard. You thought that they were together for some time during the year in college. With the way that Sharon was acting, you assumed that they were still interacting with each other, somehow, at the very least.

Steve took advantage of your surprised silence and continued, “God, chip. After what happened at the party, I just…I realized then how much I hurt you.” He looked at you with such remorse as you just continued staring at him. The hardness that was built over the years was still surrounding you, trying to protect you, even if Steve was professing his regret.

“When I heard you say that you regretted having ever met me,” you both flinched at the words as he said them, “and this look in your eyes…it looked like you really despised me and I felt it and I just–,” Steve cut himself off with another flinch and pinched his eyes shut.

“I let it get to my head. When I made the team and when people started to pay attention to me, when those bullies stopped bothering me and actually invited me to things, I lost sight of what really mattered to me the most and that was you. I know that that is a stupid excuse, and that I was hurting you, even way before what happened at the party and I was dumb, immature, and just stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, chip.” He spewed out the words faster than he could coherently process them but the sincerity could be heard in his rushed tone.

His downcast, teary eyed gaze met yours and you felt your breath hitch slightly at the sight. Growing up with Steve, he was always the formidable one. He was the one who reached out first to hold your hand if you cried. The one to maintain composure and calmness while you were the one who was more nervous and panicked. To see Steve so out of breath, wistful, and low-spirited was worrisome and unfamiliar to you.

You were at a loss for words as you tried your best to process his words. Steve bit his lip nervously as he tried to gauge your reaction. When you only met him with more silence, the despondent look in his face only grew, “Please. I completely understand if you still don’t want to be friends, and after this, I’ll completely leave you alone. But honestly, chip, I can’t leave knowing that you still hate me. I- I know that’s selfish, but I can’t.”

You moved your stare to blankly look at your melting milkshake, the whipped cream completely evaporated into the cold drink.

“You hurt me.” You blurted out.

Steve almost looked startled at hearing your voice after such a lingering silence. “I know, and I’m so sorry–.”

“No, Steve,” You interrupted him indignantly, “you hurt me.” The tears blurred your unseeing gaze again as you focused enough to meet his own. The whimper dislodged in your throat as you could no longer hide the suppressed pain.

Just like that, the both of you were 15 years old again. You were crying after being teased by other kids or bullied for your flaws, and Steve was there trying to console you. The impact of these experiences were a shared burden impenetrable to your friendship together.

The difference now is that, instead of your tears being spurred by the mean-spirited popular kids, Steve was the one who committed the offense, a betrayal that cut so deep and you were the only one to shoulder the burden.

Steve swallowed heavily as he blinked furiously to hold his own tears at bay. He seemed to understand what you were saying as his eyes glanced over the different features of your face. He knew all of your vulnerabilities and ignored, neglected his care of you by treating you the way that others had growing up. He abandoned you when you needed him the most, and he had to understand the severity of that in the same way that you tried to tell him then as you were now.

Steve exhaled deeply as he looked over at you. His still despondent eyes held a layer of genuine understanding as he apologized despairingly, “I’m so sorry.”

You sniffled as tears fell freely onto your cheeks, your puffy eyes and pained expression causing Steve to flinch in his own despondence. You brought a closed fist to your face again to wipe the tears and winced as you suddenly felt strong, sturdy arms envelop you in a soft embrace.

The tears only came down stronger at the feeling of hugging your best friend. Not feeling so alone anymore, your heart cried out with you in relief as you turned and tucked your face into his chest, your arms moved to clutch his back. Once you did, his embrace only became tighter as he squeezed you to him closer.

You both sat there for a while, just hugging, soft sobs falling from your lips while Steve continued to repeat quiet, but earnest, apologies. After a year of animosity, sadness, and unresolved hurt, the both of you silently agreed to let this moment just be.

Eventually, your tears stopped running so harshly and you sniffled back your snot-filled nose very charmingly as you reluctantly pulled away from his warmth. Steve still kept one muscular arm around your shoulder as you looked up at him hesitantly.

“Stevie?” You began to ask. Steve responded with a soft hum for you to continue while rubbing your shoulder soothingly. It didn’t even seem like he noticed that he was doing it.

Before you could lose your nerve, you meekly asked, “Why did you start pulling away from me when you started dating Sharon?”

Steve’s hand froze and he stilled as if he were preparing for the worst. He sighed while closing his eyes for a moment. Taking a breath, he opened them back up to look at you with a resolved and honest gaze.

“When I told you that Sharon asked me to the prom, I thought that would’ve been the moment that you told me that you liked me the same way that I liked you.”

Your heart thundered so loudly in your chest as you gave him a shocked, glazed over expression.

He liked you.

“But then you smiled at me, and you said that you were happy for me, and, I guess a part of me felt like I was foolish to have ever thought that you would actually like me more than a friend. I continued things with Sharon because I felt like I had to get over you.” He said regretfully.

You blinked up at him a few times before you asked dumbly, “And that’s why you were pulling away? The lies and the fake excuses, or why you ignored me when you were with Sharon?”

Steve flinched with each question as he confessed, “Yes. It was really immature of me to ignore you. If I could go back and do it over, I would in a heartbeat.” An intentional look sat on his face as he expressed his remorse.

You released another speechless hum in return, still processing that Steve liked you. In a spur of your own adrenaline running through your body, you suddenly disclosed, “Steve, I did like you the way that you liked me.”

Steve stilled and inhaled sharply, “...W-what do you mean?”

Mustering up your own fostered courage, you exhaled deeply and said, “I liked you too. But I was your best friend. I thought that you were the one who didn’t like me, so I thought that if I supported you in dating Sharon, I wouldn’t lose you completely.” You felt your face scrunch in confusion as how ridiculously unnecessary this entire separation was.

He only looked at you with incredulity as he realized, “So, because we couldn’t just buck up and tell each other honestly in that moment that we liked each other, we ended up losing each other anyways?”

“Ugh, what a mess.” You revered and knocked your forehead against his chest ashamedly. You both were quiet again as he resumed rubbing your shoulder calmingly.

“Chip?” Steve suddenly spoke out.

Raising your head up to look at him again, still cringing from such a huge misunderstanding, you gave him a soft hum to continue his inquiry.

Steve looked down into your eyes, making you feel mesmerized with how deeply he was gazing at you. From how close your faces were, you could really see the subtle hints of green in his blue eyes. There was still some grief there as you looked at each other but there was again, something else that you still couldn’t point out.

Noticing that unknowing glint in his eye for the second time that night, you questioned him curiously hoping to finally find out, “What is it?”

“I like you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, his eyes filled with mirth again and an honesty that couldn’t be faked. Your thundering heart skipped a beat as you felt your own spirit restore within you. You could feel those pieces in your heart start to build again.

You looked back at him with such relief as Steve pulled you in closer, you took in another deep breath as you responded.

“I love you.”

His eyes immediately glowed with an infectious joy, a genuine laugh and smile graced his face as he got closer to you. You could hardly breathe as you returned his loving gaze, his nose nuzzled yours gently until the both of you met each other halfway in a tender, first kiss.

A/N: my cue to say: and they lived happily ever after! i would love to know what people thought, thanks for reading :)

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witchywithwhiskey · 7 months ago

Text

for so long as you live

pairing: mafia!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: the fearsome boss of new york city's russian mob proves a point about who you belong to

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), very mild dubcon, intoxication, fingering (f receiving), public play, finger sucking, choking, breathplay, very mild blood kink, dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (printsessa), very possessive bucky

word count: 2.0k

a/n: i wrote this for @the-slumberparty's emoji game using these: 🍕❤️🔥 i hope the plot twist in this actually works (idk if it counts as a PLOT twist but whatever). i just hope it's surprising but still makes sense!!! also all the russian words are from google translate so if any are wrong, let me know and i'll fix them (translations are down at the bottom because one is a spoiler!) anyway i hope y'all enjoy!!

It was a warm summer night in New York City, the kind where even the breeze was pleasant enough that you didn’t resist when a balmy gust slipped beneath the hem of your short white dress and slid up your legs, tickling the soft skin of your thighs.

Neither did you resist when the breeze was chased by the searching hand of Bucky Barnes, his fingers skimming up your smooth skin as he curled his body around yours in the back booth of the late night Brooklyn pizza parlor.

The front door of the shop was open, and all manner of drunken Brooklynites traipsed over the threshold, intent on ordering a greasy slice that would soak up some of the alcohol in their stomachs. The crowd was loud and rowdy and thankfully unobservant, because you were painfully aware that any one of them could very easily catch you with Bucky’s hand up your skirt.

The back booth wasn’t nearly dark enough, nor secluded enough to hide you entirely from view, but the insistent desire and warming liquor pounding in your blood made it difficult to care.

Bucky’s fingers slid another inch up your thigh, pressing between your soft curves until they found the wetness that had dripped from your folds and made a mess under your skirt. His rumbling chuckle felt like another warm, summer breeze, suffusing you in a heat that burned from the inside out.

Your thighs fell open of their own accord, giving Bucky unfettered access to the place that ached for his touch, even as a protesting whine worked its way up your throat.

“Bucky…” you mewled, your reticence clear in your tone. Your fingers closed around the sinewy forearm that was disappearing up your skirt, intent on pulling him away from your soaking heat. Your nails dug into his golden skin when his other hand darted out and grabbed you by the throat.

With his thumb pressed to the hinge of your jaw, he turned your face to him, a warning sparkling in his ice blue eyes. A thrum of fear and excitement churned low in your belly at the way Bucky was looking at you—like you were prey, and he was a predator who had already decided he was going to eat you for dinner.

“I hope you weren’t about to tell me not to touch this pussy, printsessa,” Bucky rumbled, his voice deep and low like an oncoming thunderstorm. His hand wedged between your thighs beneath your skirt, shoving your legs wider so that he could cup your bare heat in his palm. “I hope you haven’t forgotten who this cunt belongs to.”

Your breath was coming in short, rabbity pants, your heart racing in your chest and your blood pounding in your veins like you were running for your life. But your mind knew what your body did not—it would be pointless to run from Bucky Barnes.

The Zimniy Soldat was the most feared boss in the city’s Russian mafia, a fact you’d learned the hard way when your father had paid off his debts by giving you to Bucky.

Bucky’s gaze bore into your own as he pushed two fingers into your tight channel, his eyes watching hungrily as your face went slack with pleasure.

“I’ll touch you whenever I want,” he growled, dragging his fingers back and plunging them into you again slowly, his eyes never straying from your face. “I’ll fuck you whenever I want—where ever I want.”

His other hand held you pinned to the leather booth by your throat, your body responding so eagerly to his touch that it felt like a betrayal. His thumb and forefinger pressed into the sides of your neck making your pussy spasm around his fingers.

Your body proved Bucky’s point before he made it as he rumbled, “This cunt belongs to me, printsessa.”

You hadn’t said a word since his name, but your slow submission was clear in every little movement of your body—your thighs spreading even wider for Bucky’s hand, your limbs loosening and melting into his hold, your lips falling open in a soundless moan as he fingerfucked you. Bucky owned you, and you both knew it.

And he relished your submission, even if you hadn’t quite accepted his possession of you yet. But you would.

The victorious smile that curved Bucky’s mouth was sharp and dangerous as a knife. When he spoke, though, his voice was as warm as the balmy summer breeze.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “give yourself to me.” The ice in his eyes was slowly but surely melting as he watched pleasure dance across your face, his smile widening into something hot and hungry. “This life of yours is mine now, printsessa, but if you’re a good girl for me, I can make sure it’s filled with pleasure and happiness,” he purred, his lips brushing against the apple of your cheek, their softness followed by the rough scrape of his scruff.

Bucky slid a third finger into your tight hole, stretching you wider and making you bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from crying out in pain-edged pleasure. Your chest heaved with the effort to stay quiet and, unbidden, a tear slipped from the corner of your eye while blood pooled on your lip.

But Bucky never stopped fucking you with his fingers, his hand working your body expertly as the soft, wet sounds of your obscenely sopping cunt reached your ears. Instead, the Zimniy Soldat kissed the tear from your cheek and licked the blood from your swollen lip, pulling back to stare into your eyes as he watched you come undone for him.

“You are mine,” he said with a tone of finality, as if his statement was an incontrovertible fact. Any protest you might’ve had—though in truth, you didn’t have any left—died in your throat as he choked you harder, his fingers working your pussy faster, grinding the heel of his palm into your wet, puffy clit as he continued on, pushing you to the edge of your release. “Moya printsessa, moya zhena.”

You felt Bucky’s ring—your husband’s ring—smooth and unyielding and warm from his skin, slip inside your cunt as he buried his fingers in your body. He rubbed your clit ruthlessly until he made you come right there in the back of the pizza parlor, not caring if anyone in the crowded shop could see it.

Your left hand, bedecked in a dazzling white sapphire ring and matching wedding band, wrapped around the back of Bucky’s neck, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to the most dangerous man in all of New York City while he made you come harder than you ever had before. Pleasure tore through your body as you held Bucky’s warm blue gaze, staring at the man who’d staked his claim on you.

The man you’d married only a few hours prior because it was the only way to settle your father’s debts.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” Bucky growled, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm, his eyes watching you hungrily, greedily.

Already, you could read him well enough to know he was thinking about watching you come on his cock as he claimed you in the most base, primal way possible. Your pussy clenched harder on his fingers at the thought, your body aching for it even as you came.

“Come all over your husband’s fingers—see how good I can be to you when you obey me, printsessa.”

Your teeth had sunk deep into your lower lip to quell any sounds of ecstasy, but the pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and you threw your head back. Your breathy cry was muffled by Bucky’s fingers choking your throat harder, which only wrung even more bliss out of your body as black crept into the edges of your vision.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, your husband’s relentless touch dragging out your release until your strangled moans devolved into desperate whimpers. Tears gathered in your lashes, and your entire body trembled in the red leather booth at the back of the pizza parlor.

Only then did Bucky relent. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured before his lips slammed down on yours, his mouth claiming yours just as surely as his fingers had claimed your cunt.

He swallowed the keening whine you let out when he pulled his fingers from your throbbing pussy, your body aching at the loss of him. But then he replaced his mouth with them, pushing his fingers between your lips so you could taste your release—the release he’d wrung so masterfully from your body.

“Clean up your mess, moya zhena,” Bucky rumbled, his eyes sparkling with depraved delight as you dutifully licked his fingers clean.

When he decided you were done, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and let you collapse against his chest, your cheek pressed to his white cotton dress shirt—the one he’d worn to your wedding earlier that day.

His jacket had been shed at some point during the party at one of his nightclubs—a club decorated in neon red hearts. Bucky had smirked in amusement when you’d pointed out the irony of celebrating your forced marriage in a place where the theme was love.

That infuriating smirk had made you decide the best way to celebrate your sham nuptials was to drink and dance the night away. You’d spent your night trying not to notice how handsome the mob boss you’d married was, or how delicious he looked with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Or how a very small part of you enjoyed the way his eyes never strayed from you for long.

It had been your idea to get some pizza after the club, a last ditch attempt to put off the wedding night you were certain Bucky expected. You kept telling yourself you didn’t want him to touch you, but the second his fingers had grazed your bare knee beneath the simple white dress you wore, tingles of pleasure going straight to your clit, you’d known it was no use pretending you didn’t want your new husband.

When your father told you he’d arranged for you to marry the Zimniy Soldat in exchange for having his debts cleared, you never believed you could find anything to like about your mob boss husband. But Bucky had proven you very wrong in that back booth in the pizza parlor, and you were warming up to the idea of being Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes.

“Tell me you’re mine, printsessa,” Bucky rumbled, drawing your thoughts back to the present moment. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head where it was tucked under his chin, and your heart flipped happily in your chest.

The words were no less a command for the warmth in his tone that he seemed to reserve for only you, his new wife.

Perhaps it was because of the pleasure still thrumming through your body, or because you weren’t so convinced anymore that being married to the Zimniy Soldat would be a bad thing, but the words came much easier to your lips than you would’ve expected.

“I’m yours, my husband.”

A pleased sound rumbled in Bucky’s throat and you felt the way his heart beat harder in his chest with your cheek pressed to his sternum. You couldn’t help the small smile that curved your lips when Bucky threaded the fingers of his left hand through yours, your matching rings slotting next to each other and glittering beneath the yellow lights of the pizza parlor.

“You’ll be happy with me,” Bucky promised, the most recent of many vows he’d made to you that day. His words rang with determination and an emotion you’d never expected to hear from the mob boss—adoration. “So long as you always remember you belong to me, moya zhena.”

A shiver of delight raced down your spine at his possessive words, finding yourself liking them much more than you would’ve thought.

Something told you that you’d never forget you belonged to Bucky Barnes. Not at any point during the hopefully long and happy life you were going to live with him. You were his wife, and he was your husband, for so long as you both should live.

translations:

printsessa/moya printsessa - princess/my princess

Zimniy Soldat - Winter Soldier

moya zhena - my wife

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societyfolklore · 29 days ago

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Through the Cold

Title: Through the Cold (the electricity is out, let's keep each other warm) Pairing: Avenger Bucky Barnes x Agent Female Reader

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky and Reader find shelter in a remote house on the outskirts of town. With the power out and temperatures dropping, they’ll have to find ways to stay warm.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, Fluff, Pet names, unprotected sex (Don’t!), Fingering. Not Beta read.

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge) Day 13 (Yeah I don't know if I’m not really doing this right…) The wind howled outside, battering against the thin walls of the small house you and Bucky had taken refuge in. Snow piled high against the windows, casting the room in a muted, white glow. The mission hadn’t gone as planned, but you were both safe for now and luckily you’d found this house before the blizzard turned dangerous. You leaned against the window, rubbing your arms as you watched the storm rage outside. Your breath fogged the glass, and the chill in the air seeped through every crack and crevice of the old structure. Still it was better then being outside..

“It’s getting colder,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at Bucky. He was crouched by the fireplace, fiddling with a bundle of wood he’d found in the corner. His metal hand glinted in the dim light, steady and precise as he arranged the logs.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low and calm. “I’ll get this fire going in a minute.”

You turned back to the window, shivering as another gust of wind rattled the glass. Your coat and gear were soaked from the snow, and you hadn’t had a chance to dry off properly.

“We’ll be fine,” Bucky said from behind you, his tone firm but reassuring. “It’s just one night.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I just hate being stuck like this.”

The sound of a match striking drew your attention, and you turned to see a small flame catch on the kindling. The firelight danced across Bucky’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intense focus in his blue eyes. He fed the fire carefully until it roared to life, filling the room with a faint warmth.

“There,” he said, standing up and brushing his hands off. “That should help.”

You stepped closer to the fire, holding your hands out toward the flames. “Thanks,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned to inspect the rest of the room. The house was small, just a kitchen, a living area, and a bedroom. It looked like no one had lived here in years, but it was clean and dry, which was more than you could ask for given the circumstances.

“There’s no power,” Bucky said after checking the light switches. “Figures.”

“Great,” you muttered. “So, no heat except for the fire, no lights, and no way to charge our comms.”

“We’ll manage,” he said, his voice steady. “We always do.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Over the years, you and Bucky had been through worse. Still, the cold was already biting at your fingers and toes, and the thought of spending the night in these conditions wasn’t exactly comforting.

After a while, the fire began to warm the room enough for you to take off your wet coat. You draped it over a chair near the hearth, hoping it would dry before morning. Bucky did the same, his leather jacket and combat vest joining the makeshift drying rack. He had the luxury of running warm from the serum, while you were just stuck with whatever your body could muster and you were scrunching fingers and toes trying to encourage blood flow.

“Here,” he said, tossing you a blanket he’d found in the bedroom. “It’s not much, but it’ll help.”

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, sighing in relief as the soft fabric trapped some of the heat from the fire. “Thanks.”

Bucky settled onto the floor near the hearth, leaning back against the couch that looked to decrepit to carry any weight and stretching out his legs. He looked tired, his shoulders slumped and his head tilted back slightly. The sight tugged at your heart—he always carried so much weight, and it wasn’t just the mission that had worn him down. The fatigue that infected his soul at times came through,

“You should rest,” you said, sitting down beside him.

“I’ll rest when you do,” he replied without looking at you.

“Bucky,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. “You’re not doing either of us any favours by running yourself into the ground. Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

He finally turned to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “You’re freezing,” he said after a moment. “I can see it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. “Don’t argue with me, doll. Come here.”

Before you could respond, he reached out and tugged you closer, pulling you into his side. His metal arm wrapped around your shoulders, and the warmth of his body seeped through the blanket and into your skin. You tensed for a moment, caught off guard, but then you relaxed, leaning into him.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling in your ear.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the wind howling outside. Slowly, the tension in your body began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of comfort and safety.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice quiet, “For someone who likes to come off as Mr grumpy pants, your being very sweet.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his breath warm against your hair. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Underneath all the brooding and the grumpiness, your might actually be a softie Barnes...”

“Don’t let that get around,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of sincerity. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

You laughed softly, the sound filling the small space. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

For a moment, you thought you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, but before you could be sure, he shifted slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around both of you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you warm. Can’t have you getting sick or dying of hypothermia on me. Might have to get used to a new partner.” “Oh no, new people, the horror.” You teased back settling against him and tried to get some rest, it was going to be a long trek out in the morning. As you drifted off to sleep, cocooned in his warmth, you were sure you felt his face burry into your hair near your neck, probably just trying to get warm himself as he held you tighter. Waking up you were shaking, the cold biting in hard at your bone, Bucky wasn’t there. “B-Bucky?” “Here Doll.” Sitting up you could see in the dim light him moving the old mattress from the bedroom into the living room to cover over the window that had broken as the blizzard outside had broken the window letting the fridged air fill the room. You pulled the blanket tightly around you as he pushed it up again the widow blocking out the wind, and disappeared again the sound of wood breaking before he came in carrying the remains of a bedframe and tossed it into the fire place stocking the flame while you shivered teeth chattering violently before he rejoined you on the floor pulling up against him into his lap “Fuck your freezing Doll.”

“y-y-yeah.”

Bucky pulled off his henley putting onto you for extra layers you head under his chin while he wrapped himself tightly around the fire returning heat to the room.

“I got you, alright, you’re alright.” He ran firm hand up and down your back trying to get you warm, kissing the top of your head while your buried yourself into him your face pressed into his neck shaking. Staying like this wrapped up in him and the blanket eventually the warm and you warmed your face pressed into his neck, your body relaxing as the cold ebbed and you were now more aware of the situation. How close your mouth was to his neck, the fact he was shirtless, how hard you were breathing? “I- I think.. I’m Ok..”

You tried to move and Bucky seemingly reluctantly loosened his hold pulling away enough to look down at you while you stared up into his face, cheeks pink from the heat. “You feeling warm enough now Doll?” His voice sounded rough and thick with a feeling you didn’t want to name.

“y-yeah..” your reply coming back quiet

“Good.” His hand pushed hair back off your face, his thumb running over your bottom lip. “Had me worried there Princess..” he gaze looked down at your lips. “Sure your warm enough?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Oh just, thinking…” Bucky breath brushed over your face. “Got to be sure.” Before you knew what was happening his lips pressed into yours, it was tender but needing as his hand went into your hair his metal warm wrapping tighter holding you to him. Your little moan coming back dying on his tongue as it slide into your mouth your body melting against his. Bucky rolled you onto your back his body covering yours as his hand ran down your side and pulling off his henley from you and unzipping the front of your jumpsuit his hand sliding inside the fabric while his hips ground into the side of your hip. “Doll you have no idea how long I’ve thought about this.” Bucky growled his mouth leaving yours to move down you neck while he pulled the suit down past your waist your hips rolling back into his. “Thought about this perfect little body of yours.” “Buck.” Your voice didn’t even sound like yours, as it got higher his hand pulling the suit down past your hips and down your thighs and off as he marked up your neck.

“You’re so perfect Doll” His hands were everywhere, your breasts, your thighs as he explored and kissed before his hand slide inside your underwear palming at your core drawing up a moan from you as your gripped his bicep, before his finger slide along wet folds. “Oh Princess, looks like I’m not the only one wanting this.” You could yeah the smug smile on his face as he pressed fingers into your clit making your whimper. “Bet I could have done this weeks ago and you’d of let me right?”

“Oh god Buck, yes.”

His fingers eased your entrance only for a moment.

“Deep breath.” You didn’t even have a chance before he pushed two fingers into your wet heat making your arch and moan “Oh yeah, that’s it, do that for me again.” He drew his metal fingers back out and repeated the action going all the way to his knuckles. “Oh good girl. Such a good girl.” His mouth up against your ear as he nipped at your neck again your hips rocking to meet his fingers. “Oh fuck.. auh..” You felt your face body bend as he curled his fingers forward your body getting hotter as he built up more pace.

“That’s it pretty girl.” He made the world melt. “Going to make it all nice and wet and warm for me.” You arched and rocked for him as he worked your body in a way no one else had taken time too the wind howling outside mixing with the way the blood rushed in your ears.

“Wanna cum now Sweet Thing? “ He asked drawing out another whimper from you, as your got impossibly close your walls holding tightly to his fingers “Or hold it for me?”

“I- I.” You couldn’t think

“I think you should, think I deserve to hear you do I?” He picked up the pace his thumb pressing up into your clit as he worked your cunt the sounds wet desire coming from getting louder. “Come on Doll, wanna hear it, can feel you squeezing.” His metal thumb moved in tighter circles and it was your undoing. Pleasure crashing into you as it all got to hard to hold. Calling out for him as your grabbed at his arms panting.

“ARGH!” Your writhed on the floor bucking into his hand your walls held onto his fingers tightly before he let your body slump.

“Oh Doll, you are perfect.” He pulled his fingers from you licking off the coating you’d left on them before undoing his pants kneeling over your body watching you skin shine in the fires light as he got himself free of his denim leaning back over you. “So perfect, and all mine.” He almost sounded like an animal growling the words as he kissed backup your chest while you lay breathing hard before he lifted your leg up pressing your knee into your chest as he slid himself up along your wet slick moaning at the feel of you making your whimper again.

“Should of done this a looong time ago.” He bent forward captured your mouth in a kiss so hungry you swore he was trying to devour you. His time pushed forward and he sunk himself in half way the sensation. You felt slit open in the best way, walls forced to take him.

“mmmugh.” You noise was muffled by the kiss again as he rocked gently letting you adjust to the feeling before slowly feeding you the remaining inches of him until you felt his tip kiss up again your cervix as he went to his hilt a long moan coming from both of you.

“Bucky God.”

“Yeah, fuck you feel so good Doll better then I dreamed.” Your mind blanked, he dreamed of you? You didn’t have a chance to think to long on that before he moved and he had you soring. Long deep moves that let you know he was there, firm sure movement as he gave you all of him each time. “So tight for me, Doll.” He made you whimper and moan each time, both of his hands touching with care despite the way his hips pressed up into you. “It’s ok, I got you.” “Oh god nghm..” It was hard not to loose yourself in the sensation as he filled you over and over, walls pushing back against him each time, Bucky managing to find the angles that sent your reeling each time as your breathing got tighter he moved like a big cat above you all rippling muscle your leg up against his chest as your own hips thrusted back to meet his. “Oh yes Doll. Yeah, just like that, move like that for me.”

His head would go back groaning when you ground your hips into his thrusts. But you felt that familiar strong need building as the heat in your blood reached boiling point.

“Bu-Bucky, Bucky..” Your voice as tight needy and raw as your hand grabbed at his thigh.

“Yeah, fuck come for me Doll. Going to make you mine, let me watch you break.” His own voice straining as his thrust got harder and a little erratic, his own edge clearly close as he waited for you to fall, needing you to fall apart for him.

You looked up at him, eyes locked on his steely blue that looked almost feral in the fire light as he took you apart, before it all got to much at the waves of pleasure crash into you pulling you under as your back arched on the floor crying out as your nails dug into his thigh, He hammered into you harder, before crying out hot ropes coursing into you painting your insides before collapsing down over the top of you.

“Jesus Christ Doll.” He swore holding himself up over you so not to crush you, your walls still grabbing as he twitched and pulsed inside you. All you did was pant and whimper as you came down. Bucky placing a softer kiss on your forehead. “Still with me Sweet thing?”

“I, think so..” You panted out, Bucky laughing a little as he ran kissed you lightly still breathing hard himself and wrapped himself around you in the blanket.

“Definitely warm now..” You joked slowly coming back down as he pulled out and got onto his back pulling out over onto him.

“Yeah, me too.”

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drabblesandsnippets · 1 month ago

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Imagine... (‘the first day of snow’)

Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

December Daze Challenge - Day 2 - @the-slumberparty

Warnings: (220w) Breeding kink. Established relationship - marriage. Bucky actually trying to knock you up?

Imagine Bucky having a breeding kink. How hard he’d come at the thought of leaving his mark on you in such an indelible way. How he’d get so turned on after filling you up that he’d push your legs back and fuck his cum back into you, picturing how radiant you’d look all swollen and pregnant with his child. Once you marry him, he'd be insatiable, insisting on christening every part of the house as newlyweds, as if he was on a mission to see if his super soldier seed could get past your birth control. You wouldn’t exactly do anything to discourage him, more than willing to take advantage of how feral Bucky gets for you, even letting him convince you to break in the new patio loveseat in the backyard. He’d settle his warm body between your thick thighs and drape a blanket over both of you so he could take his time, making you come first with his fingers, then with his cock. He’d be buried deep inside of you when your first snow as a married couple arrives, the beautiful sight of your orgasm rocking your body while snowflakes dust your hair Bucky's undoing. And when he spills himself inside of you once more, he’s determined that a year from now, you’ll be experiencing the first snow as new parents.

Day 1 | Imagine... Masterlist | Day 3

Banners by @cafekitsune - Divider by @saradika-graphics

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jobean12-blog · 11 months ago

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Everything

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No!outbreak!Joel- friends to lovers)

Word Count: 4,359

Summary: You live next door to Tommy and fall into an easy friendship with him but then you meet his older brother and fall into a lot more than friendship but will Joel's struggles stand in the way...

Author's Note: This is for @the-slumberparty February Sleepover Challenge and Eight Types of Love. I went with Philia (deep friendship) again because I just love the whole friends to lovers trope and wanted to do something with Joel. This has a little of better off friends (in Joel's mind) too. Thank you loves for hosting and thank you all so much for reading! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of tension, flirting, some light angst mixed in because Joel has his head up his ass, softness, fing-er-ing, o-ral (f rec), p in v, pet name, a curse or ten, Joel gets dom a bit- think that's it lol

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You begin to wake to the quiet sound of Joel murmuring in his sleep, the room dark other than the flickering television. His arm is heavy across your waist and your back is pressed to his chest. The warmth from his body has seeped into every part of you and you can’t help but snuggle into him.

He whispers your name and his arm tightens at your waist.

“Joel?”

With no verbal answer he starts to slowly roll his hips, introducing you to the hardness between his legs.

You gasp and meet his movements. He groans and his hand starts to move, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and slipping under.

His hand continues to explore your skin as he mumbles sleepy words but you can only catch some broken phrases.

“…a dream…you’re too good…but it’s all I…”

His words trail off but his fingers keep wandering and when his hand slips down the front of your leggings you grab his wrist and push it lower, wiggling your ass against him with a desperate plea.

“Please Joel. More.”

He tugs you closer, murmuring in your ear with another roll of his hips. You moan out his name and he suddenly goes still, his panting breaths echoing in the quiet.

“What the hell?” he says into your neck.

Everything comes back to him in a rush. The movie, you falling asleep first in his arms and then his own eyes closing as he gave in to sleep. And now he’s woken up with his hand halfway down your pants and his arousal digging into your ass.

But there was more. Your whispered pleas, his name on your lips...had he imagined it all?

His eyes widen and he lunges up from the couch, away from you.

“Fuck darlin.’ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He rakes both his hands down his face.

“No. I’m fine,” you assure him. “It’s ok.”

“Were you even awake? Did you ask me to stop at any moment? Tell me the truth.”

He waits with a pained expression after his rush of questions, worry etched across his handsome face as he holds his breath.

“I was awake enough and I knew you were dreaming but I didn’t want you to stop.”

He swallows the growl that tries to burst from his throat.

“Why didn’t you want me to stop?”

He can’t help his question, can’t let his curiosity go unchecked even though he knows you’re too good. Too good to be true. Too good for him. That you deserved better.

You don’t hesitate when you answer. “It felt good, so good. I love having your hands on me.”

It’s too much, your confessed words already branding themselves onto his skin and as much as he wants to pin you back down to the couch and finish what he’s started he takes another step back.

“I thought I was dreaming…are you sure you’re ok?”

“I am and I should be apologizing.”

His hand runs forcefully through his sleep mussed hair and let’s out a quiet curse.

“We were both half asleep. It was nothing.”

He says the words without meeting your eyes and you withdraw with a sharp intake of breath and when he finally lifts his gaze to yours he nearly crumbles to his knees to beg for your forgiveness.

“Oh...I guess you’re right.”

You glance down at your hands and blink away the wetness in your eyes.

“I’m a guy darlin’…I fell asleep with you pressed against me, and I reacted. I’m sorry if you thought…”

“No. I didn’t think,” you whisper, standing and wrapping your arms around your middle like a shield.

“It’s late,” you say as you back away from him.

“Right,” he answers, having to hold himself back from reaching out for you.

He swallows hard before walking toward the door and slipping his boots on. He stares at you in silence before he quietly says goodbye.

You nod and wait for the door to close before collapsing back onto the couch.

Your first knock goes unanswered and when you catch the buzz of a saw on the other side of the door you knock harder. The sound stops and is replaced with the heavy footfalls of his boots.

He opens the door to reveal you standing on the other side in your pretty dress, cookie box in hand.

Once his initial shock wears off it’s replaced with the familiar intensity he holds only for you, as if you’re all he sees and it’s everything.

That’s why when he shouts, “what are you doing here?” you wince slightly.

“I’m here because I missed my friend,” you state. “And I brought you cookies.”

He wants to tell you he’s missed you for every second of the last three days. Wants to wrap you in his arms and keep you there forever but he remains silent.

When he doesn’t say anything you continue on. “Are you going to let me in?”

“If you don’t mind the mess, go right ahead,” he says, stepping back.

“I don’t,” you murmur and brush past him.

He sucks in a quiet breath when your scent wafts up to his nose and closes his eyes for a moment to savor it.

“Watch the tools,” he says. “You’ll get hurt.”

“It looks great already,” you tell him as you swivel on your feet, careful to mind any sharp tools.

Joel nods before rubbing the back of his neck. “I can show you around, since you’re here.”

He holds his hand out toward the steps and you start to walk up them. He keeps his eyes focused on your feet, willing them not to travel any higher to peek under the hem of your dress.

You walk from room to room as he explains what he’s been doing to the new house he’s renovating, your brightness emanating into every space and filling it up with new light.

“Why aren’t you at work?” he asks, his voice tight.

His foot kicks out at some saw dust, sending it dancing into the air, illuminated by the streaks of sunlight filtering in through the window.

“I took a long lunch,” you explain. “I have to go back soon, I just…”

“What? You just what darlin’?” he asks, hating his hard tone.

You place the cookies down on the work bench in the room and look him in the eyes.

“I hate that we haven’t spoken in three days. I hate not knowing if you’ll want to hang out with me again. I know you’re unhappy about what almost happened the other night, but I think you’re taking this a bit too far.”

He takes a step closer to you, keeping his hands on his hips, knowing if he reaches out to touch you, he won’t be able to stop.

“Back up darlin.’ Did I hear you say I was ‘unhappy’ about what happened?”

“Yeah…I know it was my fault. You left and I…”

“You did nothing wrong,” he states, moving closer. “Nothing at all. Are we clear?”

Your back presses to the wall when he’s close enough for you to touch and your brow furrows.

“But you were upset and I…”

His palms land flat above your head on either side of the wall, his teeth griding in his jaw.

“I’m warning you darlin’.”

Several seconds pass where your gaze lingers on his face before your lashes lower and fall between his legs to his obvious arousal pressed against the tight fabric of his jeans.

Your breathing quickens and you lick your lips, parting them to speak but your words and any coherent thoughts are lost when he kisses you.

You melt against him, pliant and willing and he moans into your mouth, crowding you against the wall until there isn’t an inch of space left between you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck and takes a deeper taste before he feels your hands flatten along his chest with a gentle pat.

Breathe.

He breaks away with a groan and scans your face for any signs of regret but instead sees swollen lips and bright eyes and it’s everything…it’s achingly beautiful. He sears the image into his brain forever.

With a sigh he leans forward and rests his forehead to yours, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You do want me.”

Your words are husky and when he meets your eyes again, the hunger burning brightly in his morphs your expression into one of relief.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, brushing his nose along yours, “want isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel…for what I want to do to you.”

You breathe out his name, grabbing fistfuls of his soft tee shirt when you ask, “which is?”

His lips meet the shell of your ear and the truth comes out in a rush of warm breath that makes you shiver.

“I want to fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk straight the next day.”

The evidence of his words pulses against your stomach and it gives you courage to ask your next question.

“Do you want to fuck me against the wall…or spread me out on your bed Joel?”

He hisses out a curse and goes still before pinning you with a glare.

“You should be telling me to fuck off darlin.’ I walked out on you after I gave you some bullshit excuse…you better tell me, or else…”

“Or else what? What are you going to do?”

His fist lands on the wall with a heavy thump. “You’re getting yourself into trouble here angel.”

Your eyes light up at the endearment and he takes note.

“What does that mean? Trouble? Are you all talk or are you going to show me…”

Your words end on a gasp when he drops his hand from the wall and reaches under your dress, the feel of his big, work-roughened fingers on your skin making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

You reach up and rake your fingers through his tussled hair, feeling empowered by the shiver than passes through him, his eyes closing.

“Joel. Please.”

His eyes pop open and he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your heard with one hand while the other remains hidden beneath your dress, teasing the waistband of your panties.

“You deserve better,” he rasps.

You shake your head side to side, moving closer until your lips are a breath apart.

“No one treats me better than you.”

It’s a whisper against his mouth and when you see the fierce look in his eyes you expect him to pin you against the wall again but it never happens.

He falls to his knees and lifts your dress, burying his face between your thighs. The hair lining his cheeks and jaw rub roughly against your skin and his calloused hands yank your hips closer.

“Is this what you want angel?” he asks. “Want me on my knees for you, begging to taste you.”

Your fingers land in his hair again and you give it a sharp tug.

“Fuck,” he growls before moving your wet panties to the side and sliding his tongue straight through you.

Your legs shake and your head rolls along the wall.

“Joel,” you whine.

When he flicks your clit with his tongue it sends you reeling, rolling your hips into his face as he repeats the motion over and over then sucks it into his mouth. You’re so close to the edge but when he abruptly stands and cages you against the wall again, you let out a whine of frustration.

His hand slips down your body and he teases you before sliding a thick finger inside, his head falling to your neck with a muffled curse. You fumble with his jeans, managing to pop open the button and pull the zipper down far enough to press your palm against his hardness.

His hips buck into your hand and you feel him thicken, your breathing heavy when you ask for “more.”

With a groan of satisfaction he pushes a second finger inside you, your name coming out in a strangled hiss when you tighten around them.

Without warning his hips stutter and you feel warm moisture coat your hand. You keep one hand locked on his broad shoulder, still feeling unsteady on your own feet. His fingers are still buried deep inside you when his lips press softly to your neck and trace a path to your mouth.

When his eyes finally meet your own he slowly pumps his fingers, drawing small gasps from your parted lips.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous angel. I can’t help myself…I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He pulls his fingers free and you whine at the loss, earning a teeth grinding warning from him.

“I’m not sorry,” you say and steady your gaze.

“Oh yeah,” he answers, his body still caging you in. “It’s not good enough. I’m not…”

“Don’t say it.”

You cover his mouth with your hand. “Don’t tell me what’s good enough for me. I know what I want.”

“Please angel,” he says, his voiced laced with pain. “I can’t stay away.”

“And I don’t want you to.”

The breath rushes out of him and he sags against you.

Sensing he needs some space and knowing you are running out of time you rise up to kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering on his skin and breathing him in.

“I’m going to clean up and then go back to work…but I’ll see you this weekend.”

His fingers ghost along your arm and trace the curve of your shoulder before he takes your chin in his hand and tugs your mouth to his for one last kiss.

Lost in thought, Joel takes no notice of Tommy as he walks up to the truck window, the knock making him jump in the seat.

“What the fuck?” Joel mutters when he turns to see Tommy staring back at him through the glass, looking amused.

Joel pushes the door open and steps out, walking around Tommy without a hello.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Joel asks when he reaches the back of the truck and opens the hatch.

“Hello to you too brother,” Tommy teases. “And you never answered your phone. I need to know if you can pick up beers for the party this weekend.”

“Are you really having a birthday party? Aren’t you too damn old for this shit?” Joel says with a shake of his head.

The corner of Tommy’s mouth lifts. “Listen, just because you’re a grumpy stick in the mud doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be. I feel like celebratin’.”

“What were you thinking about in there anyway?” Tommy asks. “You looked like you were on another planet.”

When Joel doesn’t answer Tommy just smiles.

“She’ll be there of course.”

Joel remains quiet and Tommy claps him on the shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, brother, but if my girl was going to be at a party, looking damn fine, I’d be there. And early.”

“My girl,” Joel muses as the rubs his scruffy jaw. “I’ll be there.”

“And don’t forget the beer!” Tommy shouts as he walks back to his own truck and gets in.

You check the time and see that it’s still early before you have to get dressed so you walk over to the window and peek at Tommy’s house. Your thoughts wander to Joel and you wonder if he’s already at Tommy’s. As if you’ve summoned him he appears at the front door with a black garbage bag and starts walking toward the side of the house.

He’s wearing a button-down shirt instead of a tee shirt and it’s tucked into his tight-fitting jeans. It makes your breath catch in your throat and without thinking you rush to your kitchen garbage and pull out the half full bag, tying it quickly before tightening the tie of your robe.

You open your front door and keep your eyes forward as you walk toward the pails. The sound of a loud metal bang drags your attention toward Tommy’s house where you find Joel standing, hands on hips and eyes on you.

You throw him a wave before dropping the small bag of garbage into your pail and starting back toward the house. He moves in your direction, gently grabbing your wrist before you reach the door.

“Hi,” you say sweetly.

“Hey darlin’,” he murmurs, not letting go of you. “You wearin’ that tonight?”

At the teasing tone of his voice you feel relieved and smile, glad things aren’t entirely awkward since the last two times you were together.

“It’s comfortable,” you say. “But no.”

“But you look good,” you tell him. “Really good.”

He rubs the back of his neck and then using the hand still wrapped around your wrist, tugs you into his chest.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

You shift closer and he asks, “do you usually walk around in nothin’ but your robe?”

“Who said I had nothing on under here?”

He keeps his eyes on yours but drops a hand to the tie at your waist, giving it a light pull.

“Did you ever eat those cookies I made you?”

Your question catches him off guard and he barely has time to register his surprise before you continue.

“Or did you have enough dessert?”

You raise an eyebrow at the pained expression on his face and when he closes his eyes and groans you lift your hands to the collar of his shirt and toy with the fabric, pulling him closer.

“You’re not holding back at all are you?” he asks. “Not that I’ll ever forget how you taste.”

“Why should I?” you counter. “I know what I want.”

“Then say what you want, angel.”

You visibly preen at the nickname, wetting your lips before you speak and close the small space between you.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel.”

“Damn it,” he breathes, twisting the tie of your robe in his fist.

His mind instantly fills with filthy thoughts but he doesn’t respond with more than his initial curse.

“Say something,” you whisper. “I want to know what you’re thinking.”

“No you don’t,” he replies.

“Yes,” you counter with firmness. “I do.”

“I told you…one taste…it’ll never be enough. I want you every way I can have you. Every way you’ll let me. I want to do everything to you.”

You sway into him and your lips brush his ear just as you’re about to speak.

“JOEL!” Tommy yells. “Where the hell are you?”

Your eyes go wide as the haze lifts and you tuck your face into his neck, murmuring something incoherent. He echoes your frustration with a sigh.

“What time will you be ready?” he asks, his grip on you still tight.

“Just need another twenty minutes.”

“Good, I’ll pick you up then.”

You reluctantly pull away from him and give him a wry smile. “You’re going to pick me up? At my house? Right here?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “Why not?”

You open your mouth but he presses his finger against your lips. “Just let me come pick ya up darlin.’ Please.”

“Ok,” you breathe out before taking a step back.

“See you in twenty,” he says and watches until you’re safely inside.

Joel stands along the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he scans the room, avoiding Tommy’s prying eyes, but it’s to no avail.

“Don’t look so bored big brother,” Tommy drawls. “I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”

Joel checks his watch. “Actually, she will be because I’m going to get her right now.”

“You’re picking her up? But she lives next door!”

Joel ignores Tommy’s comment and pushes off the wall with a huff.

When he reaches your door he knocks and hears your “come in.” He walks in and quietly closes the door, his eyes instantly landing on your couch as he relives the memory of the other night for the millionth time.

“I’ll be right there,” you shout from down the hall.

He rubs his palms on his jeans and tries to look relaxed even though it feels like he’s about to combust.

You walk into the living room and smile. “Ready.”

He stands up straight, hands clenched at his sides as his eyes sweep over you from head to toe and his voice a rasp when he says, “you’re not wearing that angel. You’ll have to kill me first.”

You look down at your form fitting dress with a frown then lift your eyes and chin. “Oh yes, I am!”

“The fuck you are.”

Your irritation wars with the blaze of heat trailing across your skin but you manage to walk forward toward the door and past him.

But his arm shoots out and grabs you around the waist, spinning you until you’re plastered against his hard chest.

“Fuck angel.” His hands flex on your hips. “I don’t think you understand. If anyone sees you in this…anyone but me…”

“It’s just a dress,” you say. “And I like it.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please. Go change.”

You soften at his gentle pleas but you can’t help to push a little harder, knowing he’s about to give in.

“Make me.”

His eyes darken with warning and you lean closer, invitingly.

“You want to show off his gorgeous body,” he murmurs, slipping his fingers under the thin strap at your shoulder. “You’ll show it off to me.”

“Joel…”

He pushes the strap until it slides down then drags his rough fingertips along the neckline of the dress, stopping at the swell of your breasts.

“You were just going to walk into that party wearing this…what do you expect me to do?”

“I told you what I want you to do Joel.”

“Say it again,” he growls.

“I want you to fuck me.”

You enunciate all the right words even though your breathless by the end of it.

His fingers continue to your other shoulder, dropping the strap there and circling your soft skin.

“You’re a tease. You’re driving me insane.”

“I’m not the tease,” you shoot back. “You’re a tease and I’m tired of it. Either you want me. Or you don’t.”

He lifts his hands and cradles your face between them, brushing his thumbs across your skin.

“All I want is you angel. I want to be yours. I want to know all your favorite things, in and out of bed. All of it. I want it to be mine.”

With a concentrated effort you remind yourself to take a breath, seeing that means every word of it, his expression daring you to contradict him.

You reach out with the intention of unzipping his pants, but he catches your wrist. “Not yet angel. If you touch me, I’m going to need to get inside you and I need to taste you again first.”

He walks you backward toward the kitchen table and you collapse back with his gentle push. Your dress is hiked over your hips to reveal your panties and a hungry sound hums in his throat as he takes you in. Slowly he drags the delicate fabric down your legs then stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans before he spreads you open.

His tongue drags over you teasingly at first until something inside him breaks and costs him his discipline. The calloused hands that hold your thighs apart grow rougher, his throaty growls vibrating right through you as his tongue circles your clit.

Your fingers find purchase in his wild curls and he makes an appreciative noise so you give them a tug.

“So good, Joel. Oh my god.”

Already your muscles start to tighten and you know it won’t be much longer. He slides two thick fingers inside you, sucking your clit into his mouth at the same time and it sends you tumbling over the edge with a cry of his name.

His hands are soft and delicate as they caress your skin and he takes you in his arms, sitting you upright. You hold on to the edge of the table and watch him as he frees himself from his pants and palms his cock. The sight makes your mouth water and it takes all your restraint not to reach for him.

“Fuck angel,” he murmurs as he slips himself between your legs. “Do you have any idea how you’re looking at me right now?”

“How?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Like you’d beg for it if I asked.”

You work your hips in a slow circle, coating him in your arousal.

“Is that what you want?” you purr.

He groans and grits his teeth.

“Please, Joel. Please.”

“Fuck, stop. I can’t take any more,” he hisses, before he thrusts into you hard.

The sudden, perfect fullness of him makes you whimper and when he starts to move your eyes roll back in your head.

His lips find yours and he swallows every moan of pleasure as each pump of his hips drives you closer to your release. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, begging him for more. Harder. Faster.

He gives you what you want and the pressure that builds inside you is threatening to swallow you whole and when his hand smooths over your thigh and slips between your legs, pressing right where you need it, you lose control.

His fingers dig into your skin, hard, as you clench around him, hips moving so fast they start to stutter.

“So good, angel. You feel so fucking perfect.”

You feel him thicken before his warmth fills you up and he chants your name in a breathless whisper. He falls against you, cradling you in his arms and tracing the line of your neck with his lips.

You tremble in his embrace as your hands dip inside the open buttons of his shirt to feel more of him. He whispers your name, his mouth moving along your skin, hot and wet.

“No one else does this to me angel. I already want you again. Fuck.”

@lizette50 @kmc1989 @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814

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