#it’s been established that what steve wants

[hungharrington]

show-time

request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤

2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.

You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.

But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.

The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.

You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?

Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.

You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.

The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.

Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.

You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.

“Did you do this?”

Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.

“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.

You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.

The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.

Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.

But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.

You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.

The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.

Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.

“Like, before we got together?”

It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.

Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”

A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”

Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.

Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.

Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.

“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”

“How many times?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”

You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”

His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.

You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”

In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”

At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.

Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.

You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.

You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.

It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.

“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”

“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”

Then just to check, “Is that okay?”

Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.

“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.

“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.

“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.

They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.

You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.

This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.

Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.

After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.

Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. “This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”

His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.

Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.

His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.

You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.

“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

“That what you thought bout?”

You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.

“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”

Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.

“What I’d sound like?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”

Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.

Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.

“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”

This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.

Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.

Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.

You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.

“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”

You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.

“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.

The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.

He’s asking permission.

Oh, that does something to you.

“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”

Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.

His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.

He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.

He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.

And you’ve soaked through your panties.

“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.

“What?” He asks.

“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.

Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.

“Shut up,” He mumbles.

“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.

Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”

[adverbally]

Give Me More Than Just Some Butterflies

Written for the @stmarchmm prompt “breeding” | wc: 2,057 | rated: E | cw: sexual content, references to intentional pregnancy and babies/pups | tags: Steddie, omega Steve, alpha Eddie, established relationship, bondmates mating cycles/in heat, intersex omegas, trying to conceive, breeding kink, knotting | title from “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter

———

When Steve’s heat finally hits, he’s been anticipating it for so long that he’s not sure what to do.

For months, he and Eddie have been talking about trying to get pregnant. They’re bonded, they have a spare bedroom for a nursery, their loved ones are there to support them and spoil the hell out of their baby. Steve’s off his birth control. They’re ready. Really. All they need is one good heat.

But now Steve’s pacing the length of their bathroom before dawn, burning with fever but wracked with chills, pressing the heels of his hands into his aching eyes, feeling utterly terrified.

This isn’t just some abstract plan for the future anymore. Here and now, they’re taking responsibility for a living, breathing human being that they’re going to create together. It’s everything Steve has ever wanted. It’s his worst nightmare. His heart is racing with the need to have his alpha close, to be taken care of and knotted until he’s thoroughly pupped, but his hands won’t stop shaking and he thinks he might be sick.

Steve sits on the cold tile, the bathmat shoved aside so he can feel the comforting chill on his bare legs. The porcelain of the bathtub behind him has a similar effect along his back and shoulders. When he tilts his head back, the tub is the perfect height to rest his skull on the ledge next to their toiletries.

It has to be nerves, right? He still wants this so badly his hands twitch at the thought. A baby, their baby, with that powdery clean scent and Eddie’s big brown eyes, maybe Steve’s nose. A whole little person to watch over and teach and love until he takes his final breath. A family of their own. God, he can’t think of anything he wants more.

That soothes something in Steve’s gut, makes him feel like his chest isn’t about to collapse in on itself. Maybe what he thought was anxiety is really just excitement. Maybe it’s just a natural fear of change, even if the change is a good thing.

Steve gets to his feet. Enough freaking out. He splashes some cold water on his face, which doesn’t do much for the feverish pink spots high on his cheeks but makes him feel calmer. He’s gonna go back out there, call in his heat leave, and wake up his mate so they can make a baby.

Eddie promptly derails that plan by scaring the hell out of Steve, who wasn’t expecting him to be standing right outside the bathroom door.

“Sorry!” Eddie exclaims, his own eyes wide with surprise. “Just, you weren’t in bed when I woke up and your scent was—”

“My heat is starting.”

They blink at each other for a moment before Eddie breaks the stunned silence. “Oh my god,” he says softly, covering his mouth with both hands. Then he laughs and throws his arms out and shouts excitedly, “Oh my god!”

His enthusiasm is contagious. Steve smiles as Eddie pulls him into a clumsy kiss, their teeth clacking and noses bumping, hugging tightly enough to bruise.

“Really?” Eddie asks, pulling away to hold Steve’s face between his hands like he can tell whether he’s in heat just by looking at him. Actually, he probably can tell by the feverish flush across Steve’s cheeks and the warmth of his skin, but he still asks.

“Yes, really,” Steve confirms.

Eddie kisses him again, then he starts herding Steve toward the bed like he’s some kind of sheepdog. “Okay, you get comfy. I’ll call the school and tell them you’ll be out for the week.”

“Will you call Robin, too? She’ll get the word out so nobody worries if we don’t answer the phone.”

“Of course. Be back in a jiffy.”

Eddie practically runs out of the room and all Steve can think is: That man’s gonna be the father of my children.

It sends a wave of want through him. Eddie will be here in less than five minutes, then he’ll fuck Steve and put a baby in him, just like they planned. A shiver runs up his spine, feverish and excited. He should be ready for Eddie when he comes back.

Steve steps out of his boxers and climbs into bed, settling himself on Eddie’s pillow. He inhales the scent of smoke and amber, dark and warm, and thinks about smelling it straight from the source. In just a few minutes, he’ll be nipping at the bonding mark on Eddie’s neck and breathing him in to his heart’s content.

Just thinking about it makes Steve squeeze his thighs together against the ache he feels. He’s so empty, and Eddie’s the only one who can fix it. Even as he slips two fingers, then three, inside himself, Steve imagines more: the perfect fullness of Eddie’s cock, the delicious stretch of his knot. The way his belly will swell after Eddie knocks him up.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

Steve lets out a whine at the prospect of having his mate so near but not being touched by him yet. His own hand is a poor substitute for Eddie’s, missing his calluses and the coolness of his poor circulation and the way he knows how to play Steve just like his beloved guitar. It’s not enough.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie’s voice is suddenly coming from right next to him, perched on the edge of the bed. His hand on Steve’s face is a relief, like a cold glass of water. “I’ve got you.”

“Want it,” Steve tells him, pleads with him as he gropes for any bare skin he can reach, desperate to feel Eddie, real and solid beside him.

Eddie gently grasps Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand from between his legs with a slick squelch. “Do you need more prep first or are you—?”

“Just your cock,” Steve huffs, shifting impatiently. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so affected by a heat before. Probably something to do with stopping his birth control, he guesses, but the cause doesn’t matter much when he’s being hollowed out and burned alive by the overwhelming want that’s flooding through him.

And he must have missed Eddie moving again, because he’s startled by the sensation of Eddie’s cock sliding through his folds. Kneeling between Steve’s spread thighs, Eddie doesn’t thrust inside yet, just nudges the head of his cock against Steve’s and smears his wetness around with every slow roll of his hips. He knows how badly Steve needs him and he’s still toying with him.

It’s starting to hurt now, the way his cunt clenches around nothing while his mate is right there. “Please, Alpha, please,” he begs, arching his back and reaching for Eddie’s hips to try to guide him inside.

Eddie catches both of his wrists in one giant hand and presses them into the pillows above Steve’s head. He leans down, their bodies pressed together from hips to shoulders, and buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, right over his mating bite.

The scrape of Eddie’s teeth is a silent reminder of their bond, thrumming through Steve like a plucked string. Telling Steve not to worry, asking for his trust, promising that he’ll be taken care of. Steve relaxes at his alpha’s reassurance. He’s still needy, still heat-drunk and aching for Eddie’s knot, but no longer frantic with it.

“So good for me,” Eddie murmurs, releasing Steve’s wrists. With his newly freed hand, Eddie takes hold of his cock, right at the base where his knot is already starting to swell, and slowly feeds it into Steve’s cunt.

Steve doesn’t think he could speak if he tried. Eddie is so hot and thick inside him, it’s like he’s pushing all the air out of Steve’s lungs so he can’t make a sound. All he can do is cling to him, fingers tangling in Eddie’s hair where his arms are locked around his neck, and let his mouth hang open as he gasps for breath.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Eddie sighs as he bottoms out. His first thrusts are tentative, gentle rocks in and out that glide smoothly through Steve’s slick. “That’s what you needed, huh? My cock filling you up?”

“Eddie.” His name feels so good in Steve’s mouth, as good as Eddie’s cock stuffing his pussy to the brim. They fit together like they were made to, so easy that Steve doesn’t have to think. He can just focus on the hot drag of each stroke, the way Eddie can get so deep with just a twitch of his hips, carving out a space inside Steve that nobody else will ever be able to fill.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I swear, it’s like you’re already glowing.”

He believes it, can practically feel it radiating from his skin, soaking into the sheets beneath him. It makes him smile, then chuckle when Eddie beams back at him. God, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way. Joy and pleasure just keep bubbling up in his chest, lighter than air, like he’s a helium balloon, bobbing as they rock together.

Then Eddie pauses to adjust the position of Steve’s knee, and the next thrust takes Steve’s breath away when Eddie’s cock hits him just right.

“Fuck,” he moans, rolls his hips into the next one to relish the way he feels even fuller at this angle. “More, please, I need—”

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” Speeding up his pace, Eddie drives in even deeper, the slap of his hips obscenely loud each time they meet the slick-smeared skin between Steve’s thighs. “I’m gonna give you everything you need, baby, don’t you worry.”

The promise pounds in Steve’s ears in time with his heartbeat. Eddie will take care of him. Eddie will fuck him better than anyone else ever could, will empty himself inside Steve and then knot him for good measure, again and again until Steve’s heat breaks. Until he’s bred, full with as many pups as Eddie can give him.

He must’ve been thinking out loud, because Eddie cups his cheek tenderly and murmurs, “That’s right, honey, all the puppies you want. Gonna be such a good mama.”

“Want it,” Steve agrees, nuzzling into Eddie’s touch. Warm and safe here in their nest, with his Alpha’s knot starting to catch at his hole, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s coming out of this heat pregnant. It feels too right to fail. He hums his satisfaction against Eddie’s hand.

“Getting close for me?” Eddie slows his hips, returning to the slow grinds that make Steve’s toes curl. “Wanna come on my cock like a good Omega? Squeeze every last drop out of my knot so you can have my baby—”

Steve goes silent when he comes, unable to catch his breath or put together a coherent thought. His pussy spasms around Eddie’s cock until his Alpha can’t pull away, can only rock into the wet clutch of him as his knot pops past Steve’s rim.

“Oh, fuck, Stevie,” Eddie pants. He muffles his groan in the crook of Steve’s neck, mouthing at his mating bite as he spills inside of him.

If he hadn’t still been riding out his first orgasm, the sensation would be enough to make Steve come again. He’s acutely aware of each jerk of Eddie’s cock, each hot spurt filling him, his Alpha’s knot swelling further to lock them together. It settles him in a way he didn’t know he needed, sates him so completely that he goes limp in Eddie’s arms.

He can hear Eddie speaking to him, though he sounds far away. “So good for me,” he soothes, trailing kisses along Steve’s jaw and raking sweat-damp hair away from his forehead. “My beautiful mate. I love you so much.”

Steve ducks his head to capture Eddie’s lips with his, gasping when the movement makes Eddie’s knot twitch. “Love you, too, Alpha. Took such good care of me,” he croons. He laces his fingers with Eddie’s and tugs their joined hands to rest over his lower belly, still flat but full of promise. “Of us.”

“Always,” Eddie vows, sealing it with another soft kiss. “Now get some rest before the next wave hits.”

“Then you can make sure it takes,” Steve grins.

———

It does.

[societyfolklore]

Tease Me, Take Me

Title: Tease Me, Take Me

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary:  Steve's been bossy all week, pushing you just a little too far- so you decide to push back. But teasing him quickly turns into something much more when he decides to remind you exactly who's in charge.

Word Count:  2.7K (I know I said they’d all be under 2k but this one.. well happened)

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Established relationship, Brat taming, Slight/softdom!Steve, dirty talk, mild restraint (hands held)

A/N: ‘just the tip’ Steve’s our last one!

Steve had been bossy all week- giving orders, correcting your form, acting like Captain America even in your most casual moments. But what really did it?

That morning at the gym.

"That’s too much, sweetheart. Can’t have my little lady hurting herself."

In front of everyone.

The way Sam smirked, the way Natasha gave you that pointed look, it burned hot in your chest. It was fine when Steve called you 'little lady' behind closed doors. After all, compared to him, you were. But in front of the others? No. No, no, no.

Now? You were going to teach him a lesson.

Steve was stretched out beneath you, broad back pressed against the headboard, hands resting at his sides, his body relaxed- for now. His big blue eyes flicked over your body as you settled in his lap, confidence rolling off him in waves. He thought this was going to be easy. He thought he knew how this would go. That you’d sink down onto him, take him nice and deep, let him roll you onto your back and fuck you into the mattress like he always did.

Oh, he had no idea.

You straddled him, your knees framing his thighs, feeling the heat of him pressing against your slick folds. His cock twitched as you rubbed yourself over him, dragging your wetness along his length, getting him nice and messy. Steve groaned, the sound deep and satisfied, his hands lifting from the sheets to grip your waist. "That’s it, sweetheart. You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?"

You hummed in agreement, letting your lips brush along his jaw as you shifted, rolling your hips until his thick tip caught at your entrance. "Oh, baby," you cooed, letting just the head push in, stretching you just enough to make your breath hitch. *"*You got her so soaked for you…"

Steve let out a deep groan, gripping your hips tighter, ready to guide you down onto him, but you pressed a firm hand to his chest, pushing him back into the pillows. Not yet.

You rocked against him, teasing, letting his tip slide in and out, feeling the way your body clenched down, desperate for more- but you weren’t going to give in that easily. Not when you had a point to make. His eyes stayed locked on yours, expectant, patient. He still thought he was getting what he wanted. What you both craved. 

You smirked, dragging your nails across his shoulders, watching the muscles in his chest tense beneath your touch. You let yourself sink down just enough to make him groan, your walls fluttering around his thick tip before you clenched intentionally, making him feel just how tightly you could hold him. Then, you lifted again, leaving him achingly empty.

"Oh no," you pouted dramatically, cocking your head in faux innocence. "I don’t think I can take all of you, Stevie… I mean, I am just such a 'little lady', right? Guess we’ll have to stay like this."

His growl was deep, low, frustrated, his hands twitching on the bedspread, itching to grab your hips and force you down onto him the way you both knew you could take it. His fingers flexed, chest heaving, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"Honey, please…" he groaned, sweat beading at his temples, his blue eyes dark with tension and something deeper- need, desperation, an ache that throbbed as you hovered above him, keeping him right on the edge without letting him have anything. “I said I was sorry. It was just a slip-up..”

You tsked, pressing a finger to his lips, enjoying the way his jaw clenched at the interruption. He had apologized over lunch, once he realized you’d been upset about the ‘little’ comment. Earnest and sweet, telling you he hadn’t meant to embarrass you, that it had just slipped out. But that didn’t mean he was getting off easy.

"Uh-uh. I don’t wanna argue with a big, strong man like you, Stevie..”

His nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers gripping the sheets instead of you. You watched the war play out on his face, the tension in his shoulders, the controlled restraint in the way he stayed still even as his body begged him to move. Muscles coiled tight, every inch of him on the brink of breaking. His cock pulsed against your entrance, leaking against your folds, desperate for more, for everything.

"You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself," you murmured, shifting just enough to make him gasp, feeling how desperately he wanted more. “Not after you made such a point of making sure I was careful today."

He let out a slow, controlled sigh through his nose, but you could see it- the tight clench of his jaw, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, betraying just how much he was struggling. His hands trembled at his sides, fingers twitching, his veins standing out along his forearms as he gripped the sheets like they were the only thing keeping him from breaking completely. He was barely holding on.

"Sweetheart, if you don’t sit that pretty li- ass down- "

Your smirk widened, but before you could tease him again. 

"No can do, Captain."

You slid back up, slow and deliberate, grinding yourself along his length, letting his cock drag against your slick folds, smearing your arousal over him, making sure he felt every aching second of how much he'd worked you up. His cock twitched beneath you, straining for more, and you smirked, dragging yourself along his length again, never giving him what he really wanted. Just enough friction to drive him insane.

Steve groaned, head tipping back against the headboard, his fingers twitching in the sheets as he fought not to grab you. His restraint made it even better, watching him hold on when every muscle in his body was screaming for him to take control. You could feel the way he was pulsing, heavy and hot beneath you, his slick length gliding against your folds, teasing your clit with every slow movement.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" you murmured, rolling your hips again, dragging your heat along him. "Feeling how wet you got me... knowing you can't have me yet?"

Steve let out a sharp breath, his knuckles white against the sheets, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was physically forcing himself to stay still. You could feel it in the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, in the way his thighs flexed under yours, in the way his cock twitched, hot and slick, as you coated him in your arousal.

You pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, your lips barely grazing his skin as you whispered, "Mmm... poor thing."

His restraint wavered. One hand lifted, hesitated in the air for just a second, before he gave in. His large, calloused palm landed on your hip, not gripping, not forcing- just guiding as he tried to coax you down onto him.

"Please, sweetheart," he ground out, voice thick with need. "Enough. Okay?"

You could hear it, the desperate edge creeping into his tone, the breaking point hovering just out of reach. His fingers tightened, his hips shifting up just slightly, just enough to feel you without taking what he wanted.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman here," he bit out, his control fraying, breath shuddering as he dragged you along his length, spreading your slick over every aching inch of him.

But you didn't relent. You kept your movements excruciatingly slow, letting yourself sink down just a little more before pulling back up, keeping him teetering on the edge without ever giving in. His breath hitched, his grip tightening, and you could feel the tension in his body- the push and pull between holding back and snapping.

"You feel that, Stevie?" you whispered, trying to keep control, but your voice wavered as your body clenched around his tip. "That's all you. You got me this wet, got me dripping all over you... and you’re not even inside me."

His cock throbbed beneath you, thick and aching, his self-control hanging by a thread. His chest heaved, his blue eyes dark and hooded with lust. But even through the haze of desperation, his lips curled into a smirk of his own now.

"You're such a little brat," he murmured, voice low and rough. "You're playing with fire, sweetheart. And you know it."

Then, with a frustrated noise, Steve let go of your hip entirely. His hands retreated up to his head, fingers threading into his own hair, nails scratching against his scalp as he exhaled sharply. His biceps flexed, elbows splaying out against the headboard as he forced himself to stay put, his entire body taut with restraint.

"Jesus Christ, you're killing me," he groaned, head tipping back, exposing the tight line of his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Now can we please move past this?"

You let out a soft hum, trailing your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch. Then, with a wicked little smirk, you leaned in, lips grazing his ear as you whispered, "How do I know you're sorry?"

His breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists against the headboard before he forced them open, palms flattening as he exhaled a shaky breath. Steve’s smile changed- slow, knowing, cocky. You knew that look. That was the smile of a man who had just found a loophole. His whole body seemed to relax, the frustration rolling off him in waves as if he had finally figured out exactly how to turn the tables. The tension in his shoulders melted, replaced by something far more dangerous- certainty.

"If you won’t forgive me," he murmured, voice thick with heat and amusement, "I bet she will."

Before you could even process what he meant, his hands were on you. Not forcing, not demanding- authoritative. He collected your wrists, guiding them behind your back, holding them in one strong hand as he leaned in, lips pressing hot and firm against your throat.

The tip of his cock still sat right there, lodged just at your entrance, teasing, pulsing, waiting for you to finally give in. His breath fanned over your skin as he kissed along your neck, his free hand skimming down your side, teasing the curve of your waist, making you shiver under his touch.

Steve’s smirk deepened, his grip steady but teasing as he leaned in closer. "Bet I can think of all sorts of things to make her forgive me..."

His hand slid between your bodies, wrapping around himself as he pulled back, his thick, weeping tip slipping from your entrance only to drag slow and deliberate against your swollen clit. The slick pressure sent a shudder through you, heat curling low in your stomach as he rubbed against you, coating himself in your arousal some more, making sure you felt every aching second of it.

"You're not just being mean to me, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing along the side of your neck, his voice warm and indulgent, like he was enjoying this just as much as he would finally being inside you. "You're being mean by spoiling her fun, too."

Steve suddenly went quiet, his voice dropping into something lower, smoother- dangerous in its calm.

"Now," he murmured, his hand leaving the space between you to brush your hair back over your shoulder, fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he leaned in closer, lips ghosting over your ear. "Be my best girl and accept my apology."

His other hand slid down to your shoulder, his grip steady but unrelenting as he slowly pushed you down onto him, guiding you inch by inch, the silent command to take all of him.

Steve let out a deep groan, the tension that had coiled inside him finally snapping as he held you there, his fingers flexing against your skin. "That's it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "And you said I wouldn’t fit." The brat in you had been smoothed away, replaced with something softer, something pliant as more of him pushed deeper, your body yeilding. He could feel it in the way your body trembled around him, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your forehead dripping to his chest as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming fullness. He felt deep like this- so deep it knocked the air from your lungs, making you struggle to do anything but take it.

He exhaled slowly, savoring the way you clenched around him, the way your thighs trembled as you sank fully onto his lap. His hand letting go of your wrists to smoothed up your back, grounding, firm, but there was no teasing left in his voice now. Just something warm, possessive.

"That's better, isn't it, honey?" he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he settled you deeper, like you hadn’t already taken all of him. "All full up. Just how we both like it."

One of his hands drifted back to your hips, fingers tightening, holding you there, keeping you seated on him even as your body twitched, adjusting to the sheer size of him. His grip flexed, steady, as he rocked his hips ever so slightly, just enough to remind you of exactly how deep he was buried inside you.

"Can you feel how sorry I am?" he murmured, his voice smooth, controlled, sinking into you like warmth spreading through your bones.

Then, he started to move you.

His hands guided you, tilting your hips, shifting you ever so slightly as the sensation overwhelmed you- lifting you just enough before sinking you back down, stretching you all over again. The feeling was intoxicating, unbearable in its depth, in the way he filled you so completely.

Then, he took more.

His grip tightened, fingers flexing against your hips, holding you exactly where he wanted as he rolled his hips upward, thrusting slow and deep, driving himself further inside you. The shift sent a shockwave through you, your breath catching, hands gripping onto his shoulders, but he didn’t let up.

"See, honey," he breathed against your ear, each thrust deliberate, sending pleasure curling up your spine, "I take real good care of my girl. Even when she’s being a handful."

"Yes, Captain," you whimpered, your voice breaking as Steve made you take everything he gave.. The pressure built, every movement teasing a spot so deep it left you gasping, helpless against the sensation. Your hands pressed to his chest, fighting against the pleasure threatening to consume you too fast. Steve hummed in satisfaction, feeling you melt into him, the last shreds of your resistance fading away.

"Now, that’s my best girl," he whispered, his lips brushing over your jaw. "So sweet for me now, aren't you? Such a perfect girl. You forgive me yet?" His grip on your hips tightened, slowing his movements until they were nothing more than a deep, teasing grind. "I can't let you come unless you forgive me."

A low whimper slipped from your lips, your nails pressing harder into his chest as your body clenched around him involuntarily.

"I forgive you," you gasped, voice breathless, desperate, finally giving in.

Steve groaned, the sound low and satisfied, like he'd been waiting for it. "Atta' girl."

His grip on your hips tightened as he took over completely, guiding you up and down in a steady, relentless rhythm, pulling you onto him in deep, fluid strokes. Each movement sent pleasure coiling tighter, your body surrendering fully to his control. 

“I- oh god, Steve- ” His pace quickened, your breathy moans breaking apart as he drove into you, keeping you exactly where he wanted. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your body trembling in his grasp as he worked you over that edge.

"That's it, honey. Fuck yes that's it." 

The tension snapped, pleasure ripping through you like a live wire, raw and uncontrollable. Your walls clamped tight around him, pulling him with you. Steve groaned, thrusting up hard, his grip bruising as he buried himself deep, his release spilling into you in thick, hot waves. 

His breathing was heavy, his forehead dropping against yours as the aftershocks rolled through you both, your bodies tangled together, spent and satisfied.

Steve let out a deep, satisfied chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss against your lips. "Now that- that was an apology, sweetheart."

[buddiesronance]

truth is i’m scared of st*ncy actually being endgame and them having nancy give up her dream just so steve can live out his

[meggtheegg]

the way that this episode had a better grasp on bucky's innocence than the entirety of tfatws

[navybrat817]

Jawbreaker

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky put a mouthy rookie in his place. Word Count: Over 800 Warnings: Established relationship, mention of injury, misogyny, punching, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes defending you (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm dedicating this to @whisperlullaby , who got to read this in advance, because she deserves this man (along with the rest of you). ❤️Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A small part of Bucky felt bad as he idly wiped his hand with a towel. A very small part.

He didn’t want people to fear him because of his past and he refused to let it define him. That meant that he tried his best to avoid violent tactics unless absolutely necessary.

But today, well, fuck that. The fucker had it coming.

Steve stood in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed as he waited for his best friend to acknowledge him.

Oh, Bucky expected some sort of reprimand, but he was sure Steve would change his tune in a minute or so.

“You gonna ask me what happened, punk, or glare at me until I talk?” He asked, tossing the towel away.

The blonde huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look amused. “Why did you break that rookie’s jaw?”

Bucky tilted his head. “What’s the phrase? He fucked around and found out.”

You would’ve been proud of him for that reference.

Steve shook his head when Sam burst out laughing a few feet away. “Sam, please,” he begged, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What did the guy do?”

A bitter taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as anger coursed through his veins again. He inhaled as he thought of your sweet smile and soft touch before he exhaled, the storm inside of him calming.

“Buck, you gotta tell us something,” Steve urged, needing some sort of information to try and do some damage control.

The brunette straightened up to look his friend in the eyes, wanting him to see the fury beneath the cold mask. “He told my girl to throw an apron on and get back in the kitchen when she went to spar.”

You, one of the most capable agents Bucky had ever known.

You, who had shown nothing but kindness to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.

The person Bucky was lucky enough to call his other half. His better half.

And some asshole rookie had the gall to treat you as if you didn’t belong there with the rest of them.

Sam was no longer laughing. Steve’s jaw clenched in understanding.

Bucky swallowed, that fury threatening to surface again as he remembered the hurt that filled your eyes at the comment. “You know I’d support anything she wants to do, whether that’s working or staying at home. It doesn’t give some prick the right to make her feel bad for her decision.”

“You know I don’t like bullies, but breaking his jaw?” Steve questioned. The guy deserved it, but did the punishment actually fit the crime?

“When she walked away, he said to come back when she was ready to see what a real man could do for her,” he said, the words coming out like a snarl.

The way you tensed up, fear and disgust flickering on your face, he didn’t think. A switch inside of him went off and he swung.

The fucker was lucky that all he got was a broken jaw. He could’ve done so much worse.

And it wasn’t that you couldn’t defend yourself because you could, but you shouldn’t have to put up with garbage like that.

A cracking sound echoed in the room before he realized he crushed the armrest of his seat. “Fuck. I’ll pay for that,” he mumbled, kicking a bit of the broken piece with his boot. “Can you just tell me how much trouble I’m in so I can get back to my girl?”

He didn’t care if he they suspended or even fired him as long as he got back to you.

The room stayed silent before Sam mused, “Technically, what the rookie did counts as harassment.”

Steve nodded. “And I���m sure Nat can persuade him not to sue for the injury he received,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take care of it, Buck. Just. No more breaking jaws, okay?”

“When it comes to my girl, I make no promises,” Bucky smiled, his heart racing at the thought of you. “And maybe he’ll think twice before he opens his mouth again.”

“The damage you did, I don’t think he can open his mouth at all,” Sam mumbled.

Bucky’s phone went off before he could comment, his heart swelling as he read your text. He had to bite back a groan, too.

“Thank you again, Jawbreaker. I love you and I’ll be on my knees waiting for you.”

You wanted to thank him not just with words, but with your body and heart. It all belonged to him, like he belonged to you.

And he didn’t need to tell Steve and Sam what the message said since it was just for the two of you. “Love you, too, baby. Nothing to thank me for, but I’m on my way. Be ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maybe we'll see how you "thank" Bucky down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[witchywithwhiskey]

so glittery

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x sugar baby!female reader

summary: when your sugar daddy returns from a long business trip on christmas eve, you're waiting for him—on your knees in the prettiest lingerie money could buy—and he's just as happy to see you as you are him.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, established relationship, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, hand jobs, brief masturbation (m), very brief anal play (f receiving), light bdsm, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names (princess, baby, pretty present), sex with feelings, aftercare, very happy/fluffy ending

word count: 5.1k

a/n: here's my december 10 entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge and it's only like 4 days late ���� i used the prompt: "I'm your present." i've been wanting to write a sugar daddy steve rogers fic for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity!! also, the title is inspired by the kacey musgraves christmas song, "glittery." hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Excitement was an effervescent cocktail of glorious anticipation and glittery joy, thrumming through your body and throbbing between your thighs while you checked your makeup in the hall mirror before lowering yourself to your knees in perfect view of the front door. 

Your fingers distractedly smoothed over the lace and ribbons and bows that wrapped around your body, and you had to stop yourself from bouncing where you sat while you strained your ears to hear the sounds of the elevator. You couldn’t wait for the man you were expecting to walk through the door. It had been too long since you’d last seen him.

Your sugar daddy, Steve Rogers, had been on a business trip oversees for nearly a month, and you were the first person he’d see after returning to New York City on Christmas Eve. He’d texted you only moments ago to let you know he was in the elevator on the way up to his penthouse apartment, where you waited for him.

When you’d planned your Christmas Eve reunion together, he’d had very specific requests for how he wanted you to be waiting for him, and you’d been all too happy to indulge in his demands. It sent another pulse of excitement through your body when you thought about how Steve would react when he walked in and found you already on your knees for him.

Seconds later, the front door of the penthouse swung open and Steve’s reaction didn’t disappoint. 

The moment the gloriously handsome man laid eyes on you, he came to an abrupt halt, one hand still on the door while his blue eyes were riveted on only you. Steve stood in the open doorway for a long minute while his gaze feasted on the sight you presented to him. 

A bright, beaming smile spread across your face the longer he stared, your body warming under his gaze as you struggled not to look down at yourself. You already knew how you looked. You’d spent a ridiculously long time searching for the perfect set of lingerie, which you’d purchased at Steve’s behest—and with his black Amex. 

But after all that time searching, you were happy with what you’d found. The lingerie was tastefully Christmas themed, hugging your curves in red silk and lace. Little white bows accented different parts of your body, with one nestled perfectly between your tits. 

Steve’s eyes seemed stuck on that particular bow, watching your tits bouncing lightly in the ribbons and lace as your breathing picked up with your excitement. Anticipation was bubbling champagne in your veins, and you leaned forward slightly, arching your back and giving your sugar daddy an even more enticing look at your body. 

The movement seemed to snap Steve out of whatever spell he’d been under because he cleared his throat and finally stepped further into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He tossed his keys onto table in the entryway and shed his coat, hanging it up on the door to the closet without taking his eyes off you.

His silent staring gave you time to properly look at your sugar daddy for the first time in weeks. 

Steve was dressed casually in a soft-looking black sweater and dark gray wool slacks. His broad shoulders filled out the comfy looking fabric, while the sleeves of the sweater were pushed up slightly to reveal his toned forearms. You took notice of his toned legs briefly, but you couldn’t keep your gaze away from his handsome face for too long.

Your sugar daddy’s blue eyes were sparkling, even as his gaze continued to darken with lust. His mouth was curving into a delicious little smirk, and his lips looked impossibly pink against the pale skin of his clean-shaven jaw. With his blond hair swept back from his face, you had the urge to rake your fingers through it and drag him to you for a kiss.

“Now, what do we have here?” Steve rumbled, prowling further into the apartment until he stood just in front of you. 

He was so close, you had to crane your neck back to look up at him, which only made your body tighten with excitement. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his slacks, and though his stance was casual, you could practically feel the lust radiating off him.

Steve quirked an eyebrow expectantly, and you finally found your tongue to offer the greeting he was expecting.

“I’m your present.”

The words had been one of Steve’s requests for your reunion, and even though he’d known they were coming, you enjoyed the slight hitch of his breath and the way his eyes narrowed slightly on you—and the way his cock twitched to life in the front of his pants. 

Already, you were growing wet enough to leak into the panties of the expensive lingerie you’d purchased, your arousal an insistent pulse in your core. You shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together while you tried to keep your gaze fixed on Steve’s face and not let it drop to the thickening length so close to your face.

“Such a pretty present,” Steve cooed sweetly, reaching out and stroking his thumb over your cheek. 

The pad of his finger moved lower, running along your lip. You couldn’t help yourself—you ducked forward, taking his thumb into your mouth and giving him an affectionate little suckle. 

Steve’s eyes darkened further, his voice dropping into a low, husky tone as he went on, “And how do pretty presents say hello?”

You smirked, your body warming with anticipation as Steve pulled his thumb from between your lips. His hand slipped back into his pocket, curling like it was wrapping around something, and leaving you to stare up his large body from your position at his feet. 

Leaning forward, you held Steve’s gaze while you pressed your soft cheek against the lap of his slacks, feeling his cock twitch beneath the thick wool. Your mouth spread into a wide, sultry smile and you turned your face to brush a kiss against Steve’s hard length, reveling in the way it jumped beneath your lips, like his body was greeting you back.

“Hi, daddy,” you purred, your eyes fixed on Steve’s while you gave his cock another kiss through his pants.

“Good girl,” he rumbled in a pleased tone, sending glimmering sparkles of pleasure through your body as you basked in his praise. His fingers smoothed over your cheek and then his hand was skimming down to your arm until he caught your hand. “Up you go, princess.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief as you stood, grateful for Steve’s big hand holding you steady as your legs wobbled, even after such a short time on your knees. You leaned against his broad chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his expensive cologne as your legs regained their strength. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you whispered sweetly into Steve’s sweater. 

He rumbled a pleased sound in his throat, his other arm circling your waist and holding you close, your hands clasped together against his chest. For a moment, the two of you just enjoyed each other’s presence, and it settled something inside you, the tangible reminder that Steve was finally back after he’d been gone for so long.

Then, gently, your sugar daddy eased you away from his body, his bright blue eyes raking down your form and taking in the full effect of your lingerie while you were standing. If the pleased smile curing his lips was any indication, he enjoyed the outfit you’d chosen. 

“Gimme a twirl, princess,” Steve commanded in a gruff voice, and you could practically hear the barely leashed desire in the richness of his tone. “Show daddy this sexy little outfit you wore for me.”

With a giddy laugh, you spun in a circle for your sugar daddy, your fingers clinging to Steve’s. He lifted his arm, keeping your hands connected above your head as you twirled for him, giving him a full view of the Christmasy outfit you’d worn for him. 

When you were back facing him, you stumbled into his chest, still laughing lightly as you looked up at him, your gaze expectant. 

“Do you like it, daddy?”

Steve’s big hands slid down your sides, skimming over the ribbons and bows, feeling the lace and silk swathing your body. His fingers dug into your soft curves, groping you shamelessly while he grinned at you. 

“I love it, princess,” he said with genuine appreciation. He ducked down and brushed a brief kiss of greeting to your lips before murmuring in your ear, “It’s giving me some ideas about sitting you on my lap so you can show me what a good girl you’ve been this year.”

The words sinking into your mind felt like Steve had poured liquid desire over the top of your head, warmth washing down your body as heat ignited in your core. The throbbing of desire pulsed more insistently between your thighs. 

Arching your spine, you pushed your soft tits against Steve’s hard chest, reveling in the way his big body shuddered when he felt your peaked nipples through your thin lingerie.

“Yes, please, daddy, let me sit on your cock—I’ll show you how good I can be,” you purred in Steve’s ear, your fingers curling in his soft sweater while you rubbed yourself against him like a desperate Christmas vixen. 

Thankfully, Steve must’ve had enough teasing, because he grabbed your hand and towed you deeper into the apartment. The entryway opened up into the lavish and luxuriously decorated living room, which featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. 

The lights of the city shimmered as brightly as those on the massive Christmas tree that stood in the corner. Before Steve had arrived, you’d already scrutinized the decorations, coming to the conclusion he’d paid someone to do them, which explained why they were a little cold.

But you didn’t have a chance to think more about Steve’s Christmas decor just then since he was busy leading you over to the couch. He lowered himself onto the smooth linen cushions before hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs so you straddled him.

You were barely settled on his thighs when your hands greedily cupped Steve’s clean-shaven jaw and dragged his face to yours for a proper kiss. Sparkling, glittering joy filled your chest at the first firm press of your mouth against his.

Steve’s own happiness was evident when he rumbled a pleased sound in his chest. Then he kissed you back, plunging his tongue between your parted lips as his arms wound around your waist, hauling you closer until your core pressed against the growing bulge in the front of his slacks.

You moaned into your sugar daddy’s mouth, rocking against his hardness while you kissed him fervently. Your fingers threaded through Steve’s soft hair, twirling around and tugging on the ends before clinging to his shoulders for better leverage to grind your needy wet slit down on his thick bulge.

“Fuck, princess, I’ve missed you,” he rumbled in a gruff voice, mouth breaking away from yours to press hungry kisses to your jaw and neck. 

Steve’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once—groping your tits and grasping your hips in greedy fingers. You were helpless to do anything but cling to him and moan your pleasure while he manhandled your body on his lap.

“Missed your cunt so fucking much—need to be inside you, baby.” Steve paused, lifting his head so he could catch your eye, his gaze the color of the night sky in winter. “Ya gonna let daddy sink into your achy, needy pussy, princess? Gonna let daddy have his present early?”

“Yes, yes, daddy, of course,” you answered, your tongue tripping over itself to get the words out as fast as you could. “Unwrap me, use me,” you bounced on his lap, grinding your dripping pussy against your sugar daddy’s bulge until you were nearly crying with need. “Please use my cunt, daddy, I want your cock—I need your cock, daddy, please!”

“Unwrap you?” Steve chuckled, ignoring the rest of what you’d said for the moment as he leaned back so his eyes could rake appreciatively down your body. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head and smiling at you. “I want you looking like the prettiest Christmas present I’ve ever seen while you’re bouncing on my cock, princess.” 

A wide smile spread across your face and you were so distracted by basking in Steve’s praise that you almost missed the way his hands lowered to the button and fly of his slacks. Almost.

Eagerly, your eyes dropped to watch Steve’s fingers nimbly undo his pants, your body bouncing in excited anticipation while he reached inside and pulled his cock free. 

No matter how many times you saw Steve’s cock—and you’d seen it a lot throughout the course of your relationship—your core always clenched with need and your body heated with desire, your pussy leaking like it was begging to be filled. 

You watched as Steve stroked himself with an expert hand, jealousy burning through your body. Steve’s cock was long and thick and perfect, a drop of pearly precum already beading at the tip, and your mouth filled with saliva at the thought of sliding to the floor between his legs and taking him between your lips. 

Instead, Steve’s thumb rubbed over the head of his cock and smoothed the precum down his shaft, making himself slicker for you. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait any longer to touch him.

“A present? All for me, daddy?” you cooed, reaching for Steve’s cock and taking over. Your fingers squeezed him admiringly, with just the right amount of pressure that you knew he liked, and he rewarded you with a pleased grunt. 

“All for you, baby,” Steve rumbled, affection soaking his voice so thoroughly that you finally tore your gaze away from his cock. You found your sugar daddy watching you, something deeper than affection in his darkened blue eyes. 

Emotion fluttered in your chest and you smiled shyly at Steve as something passed between the two of you, something intangible and so perfect you could hardly stand it. On a whim, you leaned into Steve, pressing a kiss to his lips because it felt like the only way to convey how you were feeling. 

When he smiled against your mouth, you knew he was feeling the same way. You delighted in that feeling for a moment and then you sat back on his thighs, giving his cock an affectionate pump while you stared into Steve’s eyes.

“Can I ride it, daddy?” you murmured breathlessly, letting your excitement show on your face as you stroked Steve’s length a little faster, twisting your wrist and wringing another pleasured grunt from him.

“Hop on up, princess,” he rasped with a strained smirk, patting your thigh. 

You raised yourself up and Steve hooked his finger in your panties, pulling them to the side and making it that much easier for you to line up your soaking wet pussy with his hard cock. 

You wasted no more time, sinking down on the tip, a sharp exhale punching from your lungs as you felt the thick girth of him stretch your tight hole.

“Daddy,” you whined while your body adjusted to the intrusion, your fingers curling into a fist in Steve’s sweater while you held onto him.

He was so thick that even after all the time you’d been Steve’s sugar baby, each time you took him felt like the first. The fullness was nearly overwhelming, your mind swimming as warm pleasure suffused your body.

Opening your eyes, not remembering when you’d closed them, you found Steve looking undone as he leaned back into the cushions of the couch, his chest heaving beneath his sweater. Pink tinged his cheeks and his blue eyes were darkened to a nearly midnight navy, his gaze fixed on the spot where your body was taking him. 

You wanted more, so you pushed your hips down, taking another inch of Steve’s cock into your tight pussy. The stretch of him sliding into you wrung a whine from your throat and the sound dragged your sugar daddy’s gaze away from your pussy, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“You’re doing so good for me, princess,” Steve cooed, sitting up and curling his arm around your waist, gathering you up against his chest. “Need to feel your warm pussy hugging my cock, baby,” he murmured in your ear, brushing kisses to your cheeks. “You can take a little more, can’t you?” 

At Steve’s question, you moved again and sank further down on his cock, taking him halfway inside you. The feeling of fullness was intoxicating, making you sway in your sugar daddy’s lap, a filthy moan slipping from your lips. 

“Atta girl, taking my cock so fucking well, baby,” Steve murmured, his hands curling under your thighs to help you lift up and sink back down, taking another inch inside your tight hole. Both of you moaned loudly. “Fuck, you’ve got the sweetest pussy in the world, princess, let me all the way in—c’mon, pretty present, let daddy all the way into that sweet cunt.”

Spreading your knees wider on either side of Steve’s lap, you lowered yourself down onto his hard length. When your ass met his thighs, Steve’s head fell back and he groaned, his eyes closed tightly. The sound mixed with your moan of pleasure as you reveled in the feeling of his cock buried to the hilt in your pussy. 

“Oh fuck, daddy, you’re so big,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. You were full, but it felt so good. Your hips squirmed in Steve’s lap, as if your body was greedy for friction, for more, for anything. 

But Steve had too tight a hold on you, his arms holding you securely enough that you could do little more than writhe your hips and buck against his grip. He wasn’t holding you tight enough to hurt you, just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted you—impaled on his cock. 

It only served to make more pleasure wash through your body, the evidence of your arousal leaking down the shaft of Steve’s cock to soak his balls. Still, you whined for more.

“You’re making daddy feel so fucking good, baby,” Steve groaned, giving in to your wordless plea and rocking you on his lap. His thick cock dragged against your inner walls so deliciously that you melted against his chest, letting out a soft cry of pleasure. “You feel so perfect, princess, so tight and wet and warm and—fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, daddy,” you sobbed into Steve’s neck, your hips grinding instinctively on his lap, finding his rhythm and meeting his rocking thrusts. “Missed your cock and your face and your… your everything.”

“You missed me, huh?” Steve huffed on a self-satisfied chuckle, pulling back enough to capture your chin and tilt your face toward him so he could stare into your eyes. His blue gaze blazed with a heady mix of desire and possessiveness. “You missed your daddy’s cock, huh, princess? ‘Cause your daddy is the only one who can fuck you this good, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, daddy, yes,” you cried. 

Your words cut off on a gasp when Steve pinned your hips in place above his lap while he fucked up into you, grinding the base of his cock against your clit. Shining, dazzling pleasure rocketed through your body, making you tremble as the coil of tension in your center wound tighter. 

“You’re the only one who can fuck me so good,” you echoed, babbling the words you knew Steve wanted to hear—the words that you knew were true. “So good, daddy, you feel sooo good.”

“That’s my fucking girl,” Steve rumbled moments before slanting his mouth to yours for a searing kiss. 

He stole your breath straight from your lungs, holding you tight and fucking you in short hard thrusts that had your mind going blank from pleasure. You moaned into his kiss, your fingers threading in his hair and clutching onto him like he was your whole world.

“My pretty little Christmas present,” Steve cooed against your mouth when you broke away to gasp for air. “My perfect girl.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna come!” you cried, pleasure swirling through your body and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby, come on daddy’s cock,” Steve urged in a deep voice, his tone sweet like honey, the sound of it slipping down your spine and making your pussy clench with desire. “Show me how much you missed me by being a good girl and coming all over my fat cock, princess.”

Steve’s hand groped your ass, then one of his long fingers slipped between your cheeks, pressing against the tight rosebud of your other hole. That little bit of pressure tipped you over the edge, twinkling flashes of pleasure setting off behind your eyes. Your lips fell open in a scream as you came hard on Steve’s cock.

Your release sparked Steve’s, and he crushed you to his chest, pinning you to his lap so that his cock was buried to the root in your cunt while he came. He let out a groan, his cock throbbing deep in your pussy as he spilled inside you. It felt so good, you shivered with delight, little pulses of aftershocks thrumming through your body. 

For long moments, you clung to Steve while he kept you wrapped up in his arms. You rode out your releases together, his big body shuddering against yours and your limbs trembling in his lap.

Once you were both sated, Steve relaxed back into the couch cushions, taking you with him. His hold on your body loosened, his arms only circling your waist, while you lay splayed across his broad chest. His palm smoothed up your spine, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you against him while you both caught your breath.

“Did you enjoy your present, daddy?” you asked in your most sugary sweet tone when you’d mostly recovered. There was still a little breathlessness in your voice. 

“Princess, I loved my present,” Steve murmured, dropping a kiss to your head. His other hand began to trace the lacy pattern of the lingerie you were still wearing. “The only thing I’ll love more is when I finally unwrap you.”

You laughed softly, melting further into Steve’s chest and letting your eyes slip closed as you breathed in his familiar scent. You could feel your combined releases leaking from your body, his softening cock still buried in your pussy, but you didn’t want to move. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of having your sugar daddy home with you for a few minutes.

So when Steve shifted your bodies, disturbing you as one of his hands reached into the pocket of his pants, you grumbled unhappily. He chuckled and pressed another kiss to your hair, settling you back down on his lap. 

A moment later, you felt his fingers brush your hand, which was resting against his chest. Your palm was pressed right over his heart, and you were enjoying the feel of it beating steadily beneath your touch.

Casually, in the way of someone who’d thought about their actions at great length, Steve slipped a ring onto the fourth finger of your left hand. 

When your eyes fluttered open to see what he’d done, you found a sparkling gemstone attached to a metal band circling your finger. The meaning of the ring and the finger Steve had put it on clicked in your mind and you sucked in a gasp, your heart racing to a gallop in your chest.

“When we talked about it,” Steve began, a slight tremor in his tone, like he was nervous, though you could hardly believe it. “You said you wanted it to be a quiet, special moment—just the two of us.”

You knew the conversation he was talking about, the one you’d had a few times over the last few months. But your mind was still whirling from the pleasure he’d given you and it was slow to process the understanding of the gemstone and the metal band. The ring. The sparkling, glittering ring.

When you didn’t say anything, Steve went on. 

“You told me to put a ring on your finger when I knew I was sure, and I—” He cut himself off as he got choked up, and you heard him swallow thickly, though your eyes were still fixed on the ring. “I’m sure—I’m sure you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Words were stuck in your throat. The moment felt like a fairytale becoming reality and you couldn’t seem to find the words to express the explosion of happiness filling your heart. 

“So, what do you think?” Steve asked, the tremor in his voice worsening and you knew he was nervous. It was Steve’s vulnerability in that moment that finally snapped you out of your trance.

Sitting up, you kept your left hand pressed to Steve’s chest, barely able to pull your eyes away from the ring to look at the man you loved.

“You haven’t asked me a question yet,” you said faintly, your mouth fluttering shyly into a playful smirk. 

Steve caught your eye and his expression softened as he relaxed a little and indulged in your playfulness. “Do you like your present, princess?” he asked, his own smirk curving his mouth. 

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot, and forced yourself to keep playing the game you’d started. 

“I think…” you said, then paused, tilting your head to the side and giving the ring an assessing examination. Then you looked up at Steve from under your lashes. “It’s so glittery.” 

Steve groaned like he was being tortured, his head falling forward while his hand covered the back of yours. He pressed your palm further against his chest and you could feel the way his heart was beating faster than normal. It almost made you laugh giddily, but you held it back.

“Princess,” he rumbled, the pet name a warning as he lifted his head and fixed you with a firm expression. There was no heat of anger or frustration in his wintry blue eyes, though, only the warmth of affection and desire.

You couldn’t help playing with him a little more, shrugging as nonchalantly as you could while you cut your eyes to the side, knowing that if you kept looking at Steve, you’d laugh and cry and scream in delight. 

“That wasn’t the question I was expecting,” was all you said.

Catching your chin, Steve turned your face back toward his. His blue eyes were swimming with emotion and humor, a slight sheen to them as if he was holding back tears.

“Will you marry me?”

The words had barely passed his lips when you shrieked, “Yes!” 

You didn’t know who pulled the other in for a kiss, or if you both did it at the same time, but suddenly you were kissing Steve—and you couldn’t seem to stop. His mouth felt perfect and you sank into him, your hands holding him tightly while his arms wrapped around your waist, both of you celebrating the moment together.

For a long time, Steve kissed you, his mouth murmuring declarations into your lips as he promised to make you happy and give you anything you wanted. And in return, you promised to make him happy, to be the person he could always truly be himself with.

Both of you declared your love for one another, over and over again, in between one kiss and the next until all your words and kisses blended into one precious vow.

When you finally broke apart, you lay your head on Steve’s shoulder and he held you close, both of you enjoying being together. 

You admired the way the ring sparkled in the Christmas lights decorating the penthouse while Steve murmured plans for the wedding into your hair. He chuckled good-naturedly when you vetoed his ideas and squeezed you tight when you approved of them.

All the while, you kept his cock warm inside you, the two of you pretending not to notice the way he was hardening again, or the way you were growing wetter, your pussy fluttering with need. 

That is, until Steve couldn’t pretend anymore and he began rocking his hips beneath you so you could both feel the drag of his hard cock against your sensitive inner walls. Steve held you while you trembled through the sensation, his mouth covering yours and swallowing your moans of pleasure.

By the time you were begging Steve to unwrap you, he was more than happy to oblige. He laid you down on the plush carpet of the living room, stripping you of everything but the ring he’d put on your finger. 

Then, he made love to you under the light of the Christmas tree, whispering his devotion into your ear. His fingers twined with yours and your bodies writhed closer and closer until you came together with a sparkling, glittering burst of pleasure.

That night, you slept at the penthouse, and the following morning Steve took you home—to his real home, the brownstone in Park Slope where he truly lived. He hadn’t taken you there until things had gotten serious between the two of you, and he’d only met you at the penthouse the night before because it was faster to get there from the airport. 

Steve led you over the threshold of his brownstone, and your eyes glanced at the warmly decorated living room, smiling when you remembered the evening you’d spent with him putting up his Christmas tree before his trip. 

There were homemade ornaments and mismatched garlands everywhere, and you felt warmth bloom in your heart as you realized it felt like home to you too. 

Pulling you in for a kiss, Steve smiled against your lips before going to the kitchen to find a bottle of champagne. You clinked glasses in cheers of your engagement by the light of the Christmas tree in the home you were going to share as a family.

Then, the two of you spent Christmas together, not as sugar daddy and sugar baby, but as fiancé and fiancée. And every time Steve Rogers asked if you liked your present, you smiled and told him you loved the ring because it was so, so glittery. Which was exactly how he made you feel—so lit up with sparkling happiness, like the lights on a Christmas tree.

december daze challenge masterlist

[angelltheninth]

You know how guys have the happy trail? What do you think the MCU men's is like?

Gonna tell you something Anon, I love it when guys have that. It's cute and attractive.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, James “Logan" Howlett, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, body worship, teasing, muscles, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Probably one of the most attractive things on guys. At least to me. Other than strong hands.

Steve keeps himself very neat, not really because of you, not at first, it's just a habit that he still has from his army days. That being said he didn't miss the way you look at him when he does it. He knows you're looking so he takes his time.

Bucky is a bit more clumsy with it since losing his arm. His new one is good but it's cold on his skin when he needs to groom himself and be nice. But... maybe you can give him a hand when he needs it.

Clint doesn't bother with it much because he doesn't have much of a visible happy trail. It is there when you really look or run your hand down his abs. That being said he doesn't quite see why you like it so much, it's just body hair.

Thor never quite cared to keep himself overly well groomed or to cut down on any body hair. When he tried his hair grew back rougher, which you can feel as you touch his stomach. To him it was never something he had to think about, besides you like it.

Loki brags about how good he looks. Every part of him, even the happy trail which he always keeps well maintained. As he gets ready for bed he might take it slower, to give you time to look.

Logan has always been covered in a lot of rough, bushy hair and his happy trail is no different. For him it's like a path that you can follow as you kiss his body. In fact he has referred to it as that numerous time, making you blush at the implications.

Remy often gets asked if his hair is red everywhere, and yes it is. He chuckles when he tells you that you should check for yourself. Despite how he may seem he does keep himself well trimmed, from his belly all the way down.

Kurt does have a bit more hair there and it's quite soft and fluffy. It's one of the rare parts on his body that's not as cold as the rest of him. But it is quite dark, almost black in contrast with his blue skin.

Tony wants you to look at him as he gets changed. He wears his pants a bit lower when he knows he can work from home. Seeing you ready to kiss every inch of him won't make work easier.

Peter has a happy trail but it's a bit sparse. He doesn't have much body hair on his belly and is a bit ticklish when you touch him there. It's one of his weaknesses so he always blushes when you do it.

[junezsq]

cigarettes

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you hate the way cigarettes taste and when he finds out he decides that maybe it’s time to quit

established relationship

warnings: alcohol, (underage) drinking, partying, smoking, a few swear words, make out scenes

word count: 3.6k

a/n: someone get me somebody like steve ugh!!!! the way I feel like he'd do anything for the people he loves :')

── ᵎᵎ ✦

by the time you’d filled up the kitchen counter with all the different types of liquor you could find it felt like you had run half a marathon. to be completely honest, you were still in shock about how one household could own this much alcohol in the first place.

the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the hallway towards the kitchen and when you glanced sideways you smiled at your boyfriend walking towards you. “hey,” you pushed yourself off the counter and motioned your hands at the kitchen island, proud of the set up you’d made, “tadaa! what do you think?.”

he chuckled, “you didn’t have to.” he looked over the full counter before looking back at you, taking a few steps closer so he was able to place his hands on your waist, “it looks great, sweets.”

you shrugged, “i wanted to help.” you smiled, moving your hands along his chest and up to his shoulders. your eyes flickered up to his hair, which he had carefully styled in the time you’d been setting up the kitchen. the devil on your shoulder told you it’d be fun to run your hands through it and mess it up a bit. you didn’t want to force him to undergo the entire styling process again though, which would result into him missing the start of the party he was organizing, “it was a lot though, is it all yours?”

steve glanced over at all the bottles you’d picked, “it’s my dad’s.” he looked back at you, raising his hand to carefully tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. you raised your brows, “and he lets you use it? i bet my dad would kill me if i drank even the tiniest bit of his precious liquor.”

“i don’t know.” he moved his hand back to your waist, “he’s never home long enough to check.”

your gaze softened as you softly squeezed his shoulders in comfort. you knew how difficult it had been, and still was, for steve; not having his parents home for majority of his life. “luckily, you now have me to irritate you.” you tried to lighten the mood, successfully, because he let out a soft chuckle and dipped his head to sweetly place his lips on yours.

you let yourself melt into the kiss for a short moment before pulling back, leaning your forehead against his, "on that note," you bit your bottom lip, slightly smirking as you leaned backwards so you could look at him again, "could i stay the night?"

steve smiled at your request, "you know you don't have to ask that, sweets." he softly squeezed your hips, placing a quick peck on your lips. "but if you do, you have to help me clean up."

you giggled, moving to stand on your toes and reconnect your lips with his. you felt him smile through the kiss and you slightly tightened your grip on his shoulders when he pulled you closer against him.

the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the house interrupted your moment and a laugh escaped your throat at steve throwing his head back in annoyance. you softly patted his chest, "i'll open the door."

steve watched as you walked off around the corner and towards the front door. god the things you did to him. there was never a moment he looked at you and didn't want to smother you with kisses. he was sure he could kiss you all day, everyday, and never get tired of it. he shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips as he turned to the kitchen island, grabbing two red cups to fill them up with a drink he knew you liked.

the first to enter were some you recognised as steve's friends and a couple of your classmates. you decided to keep the door unlocked so no one had to worry about constantly hearing the obnoxious sound of the doorbell.

while you made your way back to the kitchen you widened your eyes, surprised by the amount of people that had arrived in the span of a few minutes. you muttered a couple sorry’s as you squished yourself through the crowd and a breath of relief left your lips when you’d finally reached the kitchen.

your eyes fell on steve, who was talking to someone you vaguely recognized as someone from your school year. you dusted off your hands on your jeans as you stepped closer to them, “hey.” you breathed out, and at the sound of your voice the two immediately turned their heads to look at you. you glanced down and caught sight of the two cups in steve’s hands. “what’cha got there?”

steve followed your line of sight, “right.” he glanced at the guy next to him, telling him he’d find him later that night to continue whatever conversation they were having, “here you go, gorgeous.” he turned to you and handed you the fullest cup, clearly already having drunk from the other one.

you thanked him as you took the cup from his hand, a small smile playing on your lips, “you didn’t have to cut off your conversation with …?”

he chuckled, leaning back against the counter, “joshua.”

“right,” you nodded before taking a sip of your drink.

“it’s fine, we still have the entire night to finish that.” steve kept his smile playing on his lips as he took your free hand in his, pulling you closer to him, “and i needed to give you your favorite drink.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at his words, “you’re such a cliché, harrington.”

“don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“hmm.” you stilted your head, trying to appear as if you were in thought, “maybe.”

steve smirked at you, softly squeezing your hand as he pulled you even closer against him. he immediately smashed his lips on yours and you returned his smirk through the kiss. you tried your best not to spill the drink you were still holding in one hand as you untangled your other from his, moving it to the back of his neck.

his tongue swept over your bottom lip, as if to ask for permission and so you moved your hand up to slightly tug on his hair in answer. he groaned softly at the gesture and tightened his grip on your waist, slowly starting to loose himself into the kiss. he couldn't get enough of it. of you.

"yo, harrington! stop sucking the life out of your girlfriend!"

a voice called throughout the kitchen and you giggled as you pulled away from steve. your hand was still tangled up in his hair when you glanced to the backdoor in which eddie was leaning against the doorpost. you playfully rolled your eyes and looked back at steve starting to carefully fix his hair.

"you're just saying that because you're still bitchless, munson." steve shot back, removing his hand from your waist only to immediately wrap his other arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. you instinctively wrapped your arm around his middle.

"whatever." eddie scoffed, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, "you comin' outside?"

steve's gaze landed on you, his eyes searching your features for a hint of your thoughts. you smiled at him, "go! i'll try and find robin or nancy."

"are you sure?" steve's eyes were focused on yours and you gave him another reassuring smile, "yeah!" you detached yourself from him and softly pushed him towards the backdoor, "go!"

"alright, alright," steve chuckled, leaning closer to you again to place a quick kiss on your lips, "don't let anyone get close to your drink."

you giggled at his protectiveness, knowing he would stay by your side the entire evening if you asked him to, "i won't, now go! eddie's waiting." his hand found your cheek as he leaned in for another soft kiss. you smiled against his lips while slightly pulling him closer by his collar.

“harrington!”

eddie’s call-out made him draw back with a stupid grin playing on his lips, “see you later, yeah?”

you nodded, letting go off his collar to softly pat his chest, “see ya.” your own smile didn’t recede as you watched him stalk off towards eddie and out the back door. a soft breath escaped your lips before you quickly downed your drink. time to mingle.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

the chatter and music died down as you stumbled through the hallway, trying to make your way towards the bathroom. at the sound of a door closing you glanced backwards, but the quick movement caused you to loose your balance. before you could fall face first to the ground though, a pair of strong hands found your waist.

“shit, sorry.” you grumbled, automatically grabbing their arm to straighten yourself. when you found the mystery person’s face you immediately widened your eyes in surprise, “steve!”

it was obvious you’d had a drink too many; the strap of your top had fallen of your shoulder and your hair was completely disheveled. steve chuckled at your excitement and let go of your waist to carefully readjust the strap and place some hair strands that were stuck against your lipgloss behind your ears, “what’s up, sweets?”

you shrugged, “nothing much.” steve’s hand found it’s way to your upper arm, causing your insides to warm up at his touch. you slightly raised your brows when you remembered something, “i found robin!”

“you did?” steve let his thumb rub small circles on your skin.

you nodded eagerly, “yeah! only a moment after you went outside, she walked into the kitchen. she made me a drink, actually!” you started rambling, “it was really good! not as good as the one you made me, but maybe, like, a close second!”

“a close second, huh?”

you hummed in response, “and then we talked for a while, i don’t remember about what, though.” you lightly tilted your head in thought, but gave up quickly, “doesn’t matter, because then we went dancing for a bit, and after that she made me another one of those drinks. that one wasn’t as good as the first one she made me, though.”

“that’s too bad.” steve’s eyes went over your features while he listened carefully, “and then … you ended up here?”

“yeah,” you smiled at your boyfriend, “i was on my way to the bathroom, but now that i think about it, i don’t really have to pee.” you shrugged and steve let out a soft chuckle.

you slightly tilted your head, placing your pointer finger against his chest, “what have you been up to, handsome?”

an amused grin was playing on steve’s lips and you swore you could see small sparkles glowing in his eyes as he looked at you, “well, while robin was playing your personal bartender, i was outside with eddie and a few other guys from our year…”

you tried your utmost best to focus on whatever steve was telling you, but for some reason all you could look at, and think of, were his lips. they were just too pretty to not look at. you swallowed, flattening your hand against his chest as your mind started wandering to what his way too perfect lips could do. what they’d done to you already.

“are you listening?”

his voice pulled you out off your trance and your eyes flickered up to his, “huh?”

he raised his brows teasingly, “what are you thinking off?”

you let out a soft breath, “sorry, it’s just … i wanna listen to what you’re saying,” you trailed your hand up to his cheek so you could place your thumb on his bottom lip, your own lips forming a small pout, “but all i can think of is your lips and how badly i want to kiss them.”

“do you now?” steve smirked, your thumb moving along with his bottom lip as he spoke. your eyes intently followed the small movement.

“yeah…” you let out another sigh, “wait! is this what you meant when you told me you wish you could kiss me 24/7?” you blurted out, tearing your gaze away from his lips to look him back in the eye.

all steve did was let out a soft laugh. his hand slowly creeped up your arm and to your hand, removing it from his cheek so he could intertwine them, “i did tell you that, huh?”

“i get it now.” your focus landed back on his lips as you softly bit your own bottom lip. the things you’d do to the male standing in front of you if his house wasn’t full with people right now.

he pulled you closer by your hand and leaned slightly closer. his forehead was almost touching yours and when he spoke in a whisper you felt shivers form along your spine, “you know you can just kiss me anytime you want, sweets.”

“i know.” you whispered, detaching your hand from his and moving it, along with your other, up to the back of his neck. his hands instantly moved to your waist. you smirked lightly as you pulled him closer; your foreheads now touching, “but what if i want you to kiss me?”

steve chuckled before connecting your lips with his and you felt yourself instantly relax. “you’re crazy.” he spoke in between kisses, softly squeezing your hips.

“about you, yeah.” you mumbled against his lips, tangling one of your hands into his hair; wanting him to be as close to you as possible.

you raised yourself to stand on your toes just as his tongue darted past your lips and into your mouth. a soft groan escaped steve's lips as he tightened his grip onto your hips. just when you started to melt into the kiss, you could taste a bit of nicotine on either his tongue or lips.

you pulled back slightly, which steve took as a hint to trail his kisses down towards your jaw and neck. your brows formed a small frown in thought. was it your imagination or did he really taste like cigarettes? wanting to find out you placed your palms on his cheeks so you could tilt his head back up and move back into a kiss. as soon as your lips touched his again, you knew you were right.

you leaned back, "did you smoke?" you asked, your eyes on his and his face still cradled in your hands.

steve blinked in confusion, "I did ... outside with eddie and the others." he let his fingertips slip just underneath your top as he spoke, under the impression you already knew he'd smoked earlier that night, "why?"

you threw your head back and let out a groan, “ugh.” a sigh escaped your lips, letting your hands slip down to his shoulders as you looked him back in the eyes, “ now i don’t want to kiss you anymore.”

steve's brows knitted together, getting more confused by the second, "what? ... why?"

"i hate the taste of cigarettes." your lips formed a pout as you spoke, "kinda makes me want to throw up, actually."

"really?! i didn’t know that."

"yeah..." you nodded, starting to play with the collar of his polo.

steve slipped one of his hands from underneath your top and reached up to tuck a stubborn strand of hair behind your ear, "so if I kiss you again right now, you'll throw up..?"

you giggled softly, "okay, maybe, not literally throw up." your eyes went over his features as you spoke, "i just think it tastes awful."

"right." steve slightly tilted his head in thought.

when you noticed you softly squeezed his shoulders, "I'm not saying you have to quit smoking, or anything! you can do whatever you want." you smiled affectionately, "i just won't kiss you right after you've smoked ... maybe you can eat a mint or brush your teeth?"

"alright." steve quickly nodded, still slightly thrown off by this new information. "yeah, i can do that." he smiled at you, moving his hand back to your waist, "wouldn't want to miss out on kissing you, now would i?"

a giggle escaped your lips as you reached your hand up to softly ruffle his hair, “i’m going to get some water, sober up a bit.” you smiled, brushing some hair away from his eyes, “see you later?”

even though you already knew his answer your smile grew slightly when steve hummed in confirmation. you raised yourself on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek, his hands instinctively squeezing your waist.

you gave him one last smile and steve watched as you walked off. his eyes stayed on the doorway through which you had just disappeared a moment longer before throwing his head back. all sort of thoughts were circulating through his head; he couldn’t stop thinking of the conversation you’d just had.

he ran his hands through his hair before placing them on his hips. how had he not know about this? he though of all the times he’d smoked, coming to the conclusion that none of them had been around you, and that there’d always been quite some time between taking a cigarette and seeing you.

steve sighed and let his hand slip into his pocket, taking out his lighter and a pack of cigarettes; the thought of not being able to kiss you slipped into his mind. he ran his free hand through his hair once more before stalking off towards the kitchen.

he squished himself through the crowd, mumbling a quick sorry when bumping into someone. a voice he vaguely recognized called his name but he ignored it as his thoughts were elsewhere.

when he reached the kitchen he instantly went for one of the counter cabinets and opened it to reveal the trash can. he took one last glance at the cigarettes and lighter in his hand before throwing them away. a small breath of relief escaped his lips; it almost felt as if he should’ve done this way sooner.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

when steve wasn’t able to find you he decided to take a breath of fresh air and go outside for a bit. while he ran his hand through his hair he closed the back door. he was still wondering if he should tell you he’d decided to quit smoking tonight or if he would wait until after the party; not sure if you had managed to sober up.

“look who we’ve got here.” he glanced up to find eddie already looking at him, a stupid smirk grazing his lips. eddie reached out his hand that held a pack of cigarettes, “want one?”

steve shook his head, “thanks, but i can’t.”

“what?” eddie slightly tilted his head, taking a cigarette for himself before stuffing the package into his pocket, “didn’t you smoke one with me earlier?”

steve watched as eddie casually lit up the cigarette, “yeah, that was my last one.”

“your last one?” eddie knitted his brows, exhaling the smoke, “ever?”

steve shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. he had never been a big smoker, he’d probably describe himself as an occasional one; parties, etc. however, having eddie point out so specifically he’d taken his last cigarette earlier that night, it made it sound so official. “yeah, man.”

“why’s that?” eddie tapped his cigarette, his eyes focused on the male in front of him.

steve shrugged once more, “promised my girl.”

the moment the words had left steve’s lips, eddie perked up, his eyes widening and a stupendous smirk growing on his own lips, “no way.”

“what?”

eddie exhaled some more smoke and slightly pushed steve’s shoulder, “aw, my little stevie is in love.”

steve slightly rolled his eyes, but stayed silent as he let his eyes wander over his backyard. eddie’s smirk grew even larger at his silence, “dude, you’re not even denying it!”

“okay, shut up.”

eddie opened his mouth to tease steve a bit more, but closed it the second his eyes caught on the back door opening. when he saw who was making their way outside he grinned back at steve, placing his cigarette against his lips, “speak of the devil.”

steve knitted his brows in confusion, turning his head towards the direction eddie was looking. at the sight of you his brows and posture relaxed instantly and when your eyes found his he couldn’t help but smile. you returned his smile and walked closer to the pair, “hey, i was looking for you, actually.”

“were you now?” eddie tapped his cigarette, “i’ve been outside the entire night.” he playfully smiled at you.

you let out an exaggerated gasp, your eyes falling on the curly haired, "no way! dang it, I should've come out here sooner." you giggled softly.

eddie exhaled some smoke once more before peaking away his cigarette, "too bad and too late, cutie, because i'm going inside now." he sent you a smile and glanced at steve, softly patting his arm, "good luck with the whole 'no smoking' thing, buddy."

your eyes snapped to steve, who obviously cringed at eddie's words. the curly haired called out a goodbye; you waved at him but kept your focus on your boyfriend, "what did he mean by that?"

steve bit his bottom lip, his eyes avoiding yours, "yeah, uhm, exactly what he said. i decided to quit."

"what?!" you exclaimed, reaching out your hands to place them on his cheek so you could turn his head and make him look at you, "but i told you, you don't have to do that."

"but i want to." steve's eyes finally found yours.

"why?"

steve instinctively moved his hands to your hips to pull you closer towards him, "because i can't miss out on kissing you."

you couldn't contain your smile as you let your thumbs softly caress his cheeks, "you're crazy, harrington."

"about you, yeah." steve returned your smile when he repeated the words you'd uttered to him earlier that night, "you know i'd do anything for you, sweets."

[vunblr]

Foundations (#1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut in the future. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky)

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 8.1.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok. Let’s just pretend for a bit.

Next Chapter

Two years ago.

Steve crouched in the snow-dusted ruins of the Hydra facility, surrounded by the faint hum of outdated machinery and the occasional creak of the aging structure. The air in the base carried a mix of metallic tang and decay as if the building itself was holding its last breaths. He ran his gloved hand along a table coated with frost and dust before stopping in front of a row of cryogenic chambers.

Each pod told a story of Hydra’s grotesque obsession with human experimentation. Steve’s sharp gaze scanned them uneasily and when he reached the last chamber, he froze.

Encased in cryogenic suspension, there was a small boy, no older than three, with his delicate features eerily serene within the frosted glass. The sight made his stomach twist.

Natasha’s voice crackled through the comms. “Steve, what did you find?”

He pressed a hand against the glass. “It’s a boy. About… two or three years old. Cryostasis. We need to get him out of here.”

His eyes darted to a nearby desk, where he eyed a weathered folder with its corners curled with age. Flipping it open, he scanned the documents, and his stomach churned with every line. “This- he is not a kidnapped normal human boy… they’ve been using fertilization methods here. Thirty samples and only this child lived after birth. The mother died in labor. Nat-” Steve’s voice got strained. “He’s… he’s Bucky’s son.”

The line remained silent for a moment before Natasha answered cautiously. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. There’s… documentation here, DNA confirmations. God, he doesn’t even have a name. Just a designation: A-25.”

A beat of silence passed again, heavy with the implication before Natasha’s voice softened. “What do you want to do?”

Steve exhaled slowly, his breath clouding the icy air. “We can’t just leave him here.”

-----

Back on the Quinjet, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The cryo-pod rested in the cargo bay, its faint orange light casting an otherworldly glow over the steel walls. Steve sat on a bench, with his elbows rested on his knees and his hands pressed on his face, wrestling with the enormity of the decision he’d just made. Across from him, two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stood stiffly, with palpable apprehension.

“Captain Rogers,” one of them began, breaking the tense silence. “Moving him to the tower isn’t viable. We don’t know what kind of conditioning Hydra implemented, or if the kid is enhanced. He could be dangerous.”

Steve’s head snapped up, pinning the agent in place with his gaze. “He’s a child. And from what I read; he didn’t inherit the serum properties. Whatever Hydra did to him, it’s on us to undo it. Leaving him here or handing him over to a government lab isn’t an option.”

The agent shifted uneasily. “And if he’s unstable? Wha-”

Steve set his jaw, leaning back against the cold metal wall with determination. “Then I’ll handle it,” he cut firmly. “But we are not abandoning him.”

----

Two nights later in the common room, Steve, Natasha, and Tony gathered to discuss the next steps. The atmosphere was heavy. Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a skeptical expression.

“Look, I’m not saying we keep this from Barnes,” he pointed out with a little hesitation. “But you’ve seen him, Steve. He’s barely keeping himself together most days. Throwing a kid into the mix?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, and he hardened his gaze. “That’s not your call to make. He deserves to know.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Even if it sends him over the edge?”

“He’s stronger than you think,” Steve countered firmly. “And he’s not alone, even if sometimes he thinks he is. If he decides to step up, we’ll help him. All of us. That boy is his only family, Tony. Bucky deserves the chance to decide what kind of relationship he wants with him.”

----

Present.

Two weeks into the new school year, she stood at the kindergarten’s gate, greeting the kids with a warm smile. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves, and shades of orange and gold framed the cheerful faces of the kids as they laughed and ran to their friends. Each day, they’d formed a routine, walking together through the small park leading to the school hall.

Nearly everyone had arrived when, just as she was about to close the gate, she noticed a figure approaching. Her gaze landed on a tall man with strikingly beautiful yet tired blue eyes. His hesitant steps betrayed a certain nervousness. Beside him walked a boy, the spitting image of him, with the same dark hair and soulful eyes. They were unfamiliar to her, but she knew immediately who they must be.

Thomas Barnes and, presumably, his father.

The director had informed her about the new student, explaining that, for personal reasons, the boy would start a bit later than the others. Now here they were, standing on the threshold of a new chapter.

She stepped forward with a warm smile. “You must be Thomas,” she said gently, crouching slightly to meet the boy’s gaze. Then she looked up at the man, her voice equally kind. “And you must be his dad. Welcome.”

The child hugged his father’s leg when he realized he had to go in alone. Bucky bit his lip, placing a hand on the boy’s head. “Kiddo, we talked about this. I’ll pick you up at three, and then we’ll go to Uncle Steve’s,” he said softly.

Then he gave her an apologetic look. “Also, what do we always say? Manners. You didn’t even greet Miss...”

Oh. She got so distracted by the pair that her clouded mind didn’t even consider the basic introductions. “Sorry! I’m Miss Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you two.”

The boy separated one hand from his father’s leg and, straightening his posture but with a quivering lip, offered his hand like a little gentleman. “I’m Thomas. I’m five years old, and… and I will be in your care.”

She shook his hand, surprised and delighted. “Well, aren’t you a little gentleman,” she said warmly.

The bell rang, and she straightened up. “Well, that is our cue. Would you like to come inside? There are lots of boys and girls who would love to meet and play with you,” she reassured. Then she looked at Bucky. “And, as your papa -Mr. Barnes- said, he’ll be here when we finish.”

“James,” Bucky said promptly, stretching out his hand firm but gently to shake hers. She felt a traitorous warmth rise in her cheeks when their gaze met at closer range. His tired blue eyes held more than exhaustion; something softer and more vulnerable lingered there, though it was quickly masked. Apprehension, perhaps? He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and yet, somehow, he was effortlessly handsome.

“Nice to meet you, James,” she managed, keeping her tone calm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, your little one will be fine, you’ll see.”

Bucky nodded once, briskly but slightly hesitant. “Yeah, I-I know. Alright, Kiddo,” he said, crouching slightly to Thomas’s level, in a low and encouraging voice. “You listen to your teacher and... have fun, alright? Just like we talked about.”

Thomas clung to his father’s jeans for a moment longer, small fingers clutching the fabric as if it were a lifeline. His lip quivered, and he glanced back at her with uncertain eyes. For a brief second, she wondered if he might refuse to let go, but then, slowly, he released his grip. The boy stepped toward her, tentative but brave, and positioned himself by her side.

She crouched again, offering him an encouraging smile. “You’re going to have a wonderful day, Thomas. I’ll be right here with you.”

The reassurance seemed to help. Thomas nodded shyly, though he didn’t speak. When she stood again, she noticed Bucky watching his son with an expression that tugged at her heart, equal parts pride and pain.

With a single nod of acknowledgment toward her, he straightened and turned on his heel, walking away without looking back. She couldn’t help but watch him for a moment longer than she should have, her gaze lingering on his broad shoulders as he disappeared down the path. She exhaled softly, turning her attention back to Thomas.

“Shall we?” she asked gently, holding out her hand.

Thomas hesitated, but then his small hand slid into hers. Together, they walked toward the classroom, the sound of children’s laughter welcoming them into a new day.

----

Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he strolled along the sidewalk, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. Two years. It had been two years since Thomas came into his life, and now, for the first time, he was entrusting his care to someone else’s hands, strangers, no less. It might have seemed like an ordinary milestone for any other parent, but ordinary wasn’t a word that had ever described his life.

Normalcy was a foreign concept in their household. From the moment Steve had walked into the tower with that cryo-pod and the revelation of Thomas’s existence, everything had shifted. Even in the haze of his own self-doubt and fucked up brain, Bucky had known there was only one choice to make. Despite the murmurs of alternatives offered to him -guardianship through S.H.I.E.L.D. programs, adoption options- he hadn’t hesitated.

Responsibility. He owed the child that much, even if the idea of raising him terrified him to his core. How could he possibly be a parent when he was barely figuring out how to be himself? A walking mess trying to navigate a world he no longer fit into, burdened by guilt, memories, and nightmares. But Thomas wasn’t just a child, he was his child, a fragile thread tethering Bucky to something tangible and real.

The first months had been the hardest. Thomas, scared and silent, flinched at shadows and refused to speak more than a handful of words. A traumatized child by his earliest experiences, molded by Hydra’s cruel hands, and burdened with a fragility that made Bucky’s heart ache almost everyday. He could barely bring himself to imagine what might have happened if Steve hadn’t found him in that lab.

It wasn’t a journey he could have managed alone. Living at the Avengers Tower, he had been reluctant at first to accept help from the team. Steve, of course, had been steadfast and supportive, as expected. But what surprised Bucky the most was how the others had stepped in. Natasha’s guidance when words failed him, Wanda’s ability to soothe the boy, and even Tony’s seemingly endless stream of resources, like the top-tier child therapists he’d hired without hesitation.

Thomas was lucky, in a way, that Hydra’s experiments hadn’t left him with the serum’s super-soldier effects. The organization had tried, forcing serum-adjacent treatments to awaken something dormant, but to no avail. It was a relief Bucky carried deeply, though it did little to soften his guilt for not being there to stop it sooner.

Over time, they found a constant rhythm in their lives. Bucky wasn’t perfect -far from it- but he learned how to be there for Thomas. He showed him that food wasn’t a reward to fear, that adults could offer love instead of pain, that bedtime stories were for comfort and not to kept teaching lessons until he closed his exhausted eyes. Slowly but surely, the child started to blossom, inching out of his shell, exploring the world with a tentative kind of hope.

Still, Bucky knew they couldn’t stay in the protective bubble of the tower forever. Thomas needed more: kids his age, a chance to experience life outside their small, cloistered world. It had taken time, but Bucky finally worked up the nerve to rent an apartment for the two of them and begin the daunting process of finding a kindergarten.

The search was harder than expected. On paper, the process was simple: call, inquire, and enroll. In practice, things unraveled quickly. Many schools initially expressed enthusiasm, but the moment they learned Thomas was the son of that James Barnes, things changed. “Administrative errors” cropped up, classes mysteriously filled to capacity, or calls simply went unanswered.

When Tony offered to pull strings, Bucky refused. He wasn’t about to force his son into a place where the only motivation was Stark’s money. He didn’t want Thomas in an environment where whispers followed him down the hall, or where teachers tiptoed around him out of fear or prejudice.

So, he kept searching. Two weeks into the semester, he finally found a place. It was modest, tucked into a quiet neighborhood, with no interest in his past beyond the necessary paperwork. No judgment. No lingering stares. Just a promise to give Thomas a chance, and that was all Bucky needed.

As he walked away from the schoolyard, leaving Thomas in the care of his teacher and her warm smile, he tried to shake the tension in his chest. Rationally, he knew it was the right step. Thomas deserved to experience childhood, and this was the first of many milestones.

Still, the ache of leaving was sharper than he’d expected.

----

Thomas’s first day could have been better, but it wasn’t terrible either. As expected, the transition wasn’t easy. He seemed overwhelmed by the number of children around him. Though the school was small, nine energetic five-year-olds in one room was a stark contrast to the quiet, adult-dominated environment he’d grown up in.

The morning began with a formal introduction, as she guided Thomas gently to the front of the room. “Everyone, this is Thomas. Let’s all say hello!” she announced with her ever-patient smile.

A chorus of cheerful voices greeted him in unison, and Thomas blinked, wide-eyed, shifting closer to her side. Throughout the day, he stuck to her like a shadow, quietly observing the other children. His curious gaze darted from one group to another, watching how they played together, laughed, and squabbled.

The first hiccup came when two boys got into a brief tug-of-war over a toy truck. Thomas visibly tensed, his small shoulders stiffening as he clutched the hem of her skirt. She quickly diffused the situation and offered Thomas a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Thomas, sometimes there are quarrels, but nothing to worry about,” she said softly, her voice soothing as she rested a hand on his shoulder. He nodded but didn’t move from his spot.

Flora, one of the more outgoing girls in the class, made several attempts to coax Thomas into playing with her. Each time, she would approach with a bright smile and an outstretched hand, only to be gently refused as he shook his head and clung to his teacher. “Thomas is feeling a little shy today,” she explained kindly to Flora. “But I bet he’ll join you soon.” Flora nodded enthusiastically, skipping back to her friends, undeterred.

When the day finally wound to a close, the children were picked up one by one, their parents ushering them out with cheerful waves and chatter. Soon, the classroom emptied, leaving only her and Thomas. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes past pick-up time. Not late enough to be alarming, but enough to notice the change in Thomas.

The boy sat stiffly on a bench near the gate, his small chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. She crouched down in front of him, “Hey, Thomas, it’s okay. Your dad will be here soon, I promise. While we wait, want to learn a game?”

The child blinked at her, with glassy eyes by unshed tears and then nodded hesitantly.

She held out her hands and showed him a simple clapping game. The rhythm seemed to distract him, his and his breathing slowed down as he focused on mimicking her motions. They repeated the sequence a few times, and she rewarded him with a bright smile each time he got it right.

Then, footsteps approached the gate, and she looked up to see James Barnes hurrying toward them, with a concerned expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he said breathlessly, his blue eyes flicking from her to Thomas. “Traffic was worse than I expected-”

“Papa!” the small voice broke through as he bolted toward his father, tears streaming down his face now that the wait was over.

Bucky crouched and scooped him up immediately, cradling him close with his gloved hands. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” he murmured with guilt. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. I won’t be late again, I promise.”

As he held his son tightly, he turned toward her, ready to apologize again. But when he met her gaze, something in his chest shifted, just a flicker, something too fleeting to name.

She was smiling, kind and patient, with a softness in her expression that made it painfully obvious she wasn’t upset about waiting.

That shouldn’t have stood out. But it did.

“I’m sorry for making you wait and... taking up your time. It won’t happen again.”

She shook her head with a kind smile. “It’s alright. He was fine, really. And the game helped. Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky gave her a grateful look, softening his features just enough to show how much he appreciated her patience. “Thanks... for everything.”

She was about to respond when something crossed her mind. She hesitated briefly before speaking. “Um, Mr. Barnes -James- do you think we could schedule a meeting sometime this week? I usually interview families during the first days to get to know them better, but since Thomas started a bit later, we haven’t had the chance. If you’d like, we can arrange a time that works for you.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, and she quickly added, “Of course, if you need to check with Mrs-”

“It’s just me,” he interrupted, firmer than intended but not unkind.

She blinked. “Oh.”

Just him.

Her expression didn’t change much, she simply nodded, adjusting quickly, but something about her expression made his throat go dry.

“Alright,” she said smoothly, “how does tomorrow at 1 PM sound?”

Bucky knitted his brows, working through something in his mind. She took the hesitation as doubt and quickly reassured him, “The interviews take place during school hours. Another teacher covers my class while I meet with parents. It’s all planned out.”

He nodded after a moment, letting the arrangement settle.

“Then it’s a date.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Silence. His own brain screeched to a halt.

Shit.

The second the words left his mouth, he froze. Why the hell did he have to use that word? He shows up late on the first day, and instead of keeping his shit together, he throws that word in her face like some creep. What is she going to think? That he’s hitting on her? That he doesn’t take this seriously? His mind started spiraling as always, and he glanced at her, waiting for her reaction, expecting something-anything- that signaled she’s offended or uncomfortable.

But she only smiled. Not a smirk, not teasing, just… warm. Like she hadn’t even registered the slip, or worse, like she had and found it endearing.

“Alright, Mr. Barnes. See you tomorrow. Bye, Thomas! Have a wonderful afternoon!”

He nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and walked toward the gate with Thomas in his arms. The tension in his shoulders was killing him, and his mind kept spiraling. Why couldn’t he have just said meeting like a normal person?

-----

He arrived five minutes early. Pressing the doorbell, he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, exhaling quietly as he waited.

A moment later, a soft buzz hummed from the side gate, signaling that he should push to enter. The latch clicked open under his touch, and he stepped through, strolling into the modest front yard where tiny footprints were imprinted into the damp soil, remnants of an afternoon spent playing.

As he neared the entrance, the building’s front door swung open, and there she was, standing at the threshold to receive him.

She hadn’t expected him to be so… put together.

Her breath hitched for half a second as she took him in, her brain momentarily short-circuiting before she caught herself. He was overdressed for a simple parent-teacher chat. His hair was neatly tied into a short ponytail, keeping the strands away from his sharp, striking features. The crisp black shirt he wore, fitted just right, framing his broad shoulders like a second skin, the mother-of-pearl blue buttons subtly gleaming under the soft afternoon light. The contrast of the dark fabric against his fair skin only made his blue eyes stand out even more.

She blinked, suddenly aware that she had been staring, like an absolute idiot, at that.

Her own reflection in the glass door made her painfully self-conscious. She had thrown on a comfortable jumper that morning, warm and practical, paired with an open wool jacket she hadn’t given much thought to. Now, under his gaze, she felt underdressed.

Shaking off the ridiculous thought, she straightened her posture and smiled, keeping her voice even. “Mr. Barnes, right on time.”

His lips twitched slightly, almost a smile, but not quite. “James. Figured I shouldn’t be late twice in a row.”

She stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. “Come on in. Would you like some tea or coffee before we start?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Tea, if it’s not a hassle.”

“No hassle at all,” she assured him, leading the way inside.

As he followed her down the hallway, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. This was just a meeting, a standard conversation about Thomas. That was all. She led him into the small office and closed the door with a soft click.

With him inside, the space suddenly felt even smaller, almost claustrophobic. As he settled into the chair, she turned toward the small counter, flipping on the electric kettle. With her back to him, she absently tugged at the neckline of her jumper, then glanced down, frowning as she noticed a faint smear of green tempera near the hem. Great. Just great. She tried to rub it away discreetly, but the stain refused to budge.

Forcing herself to move on, she turned around, offering a professional -and hopefully not too flustered- smile. “So, Mr. Barnes.”

“James is really alright,” he repeated. Then he asked himself if there was a rule to use the last name, and she was trying to make him notice that fact politely by still addressing him with formality.

She nodded. “Alright, James.” The name felt different on her tongue, more personal somehow, and for some reason, it flustered her to use it. She cleared her throat, refocusing. “I’m going to ask some questions about Thomas’s daily life and family status so we can start building his file.”

At that, she caught the way his gloved hands tensed over his knees. It was subtle, just the smallest tightening of his fingers, but she noticed. His expression, however, remained unreadable: calm, polite, the perfect picture of an agreeable parent sitting through a standard school procedure.

But she knew better.

Not wanting to push too soon, she offered an alternative. “Also, if you’re interested, I can tell you briefly about yesterday and today’s steps in his integration.”

Something shifted in his posture at that. Not much, but enough. A small breath in, a glance toward her, like a man bracing for news he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding. “I’d like that.”

----

Bucky felt little beads of sweat trickling down his spine. Was he trying too much?

He shifted slightly, flexing his fingers over his knees as he stole a glance at himself, just a quick, discreet look. Then, at her, and then, at the tiny office around them, shelves stacked with colorful folders, walls decorated with cheerful crayon drawings.

Back in his time, people dressed better. If a parent had to meet with a teacher, for whatever reason, it was treated as a formal occasion. A suit, a tie. The respect was shown in one’s presentation. So, naturally, he thought the right thing to do was clean up good.

Now, sitting in that too-small, squeaky green chair, with that attractive lovely lady making him tea, he felt like a goddamn wedding cake doll.

Her jumper was slightly wrinkled, her open wool jacket practical and cozy, and there was that stubborn little stain on the hem that she’d tried to wipe away when she thought he wasn’t looking. She belonged in this space, warm and natural, while he looked like he had an appointment with a boardroom, not a kindergarten teacher.

He swallowed, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Too late to do anything about it now.

"Alright," she said, settling across from him with a patient smile. "Where do you want to start? The interrogation about personal matters or how Thomas is adjusting to his partners and environment?"

Bucky barely hesitated. "The second one."

She smiled knowingly as if she had expected that answer. “He was a little introverted at first, which is completely normal for a child his age in a new group. Most of the kids already knew each other, so he’s still figuring out where he fits in.”

Bucky nodded, listening intently.

She hesitated for a second before continuing, careful but warm. “He’s also a bit… dependent.”

That made something in Bucky’s chest tighten.

“Which, again, is perfectly normal,” she reassured quickly, reading the shift in his expression. “Especially considering his background. I have no problem giving him the comfort and reassurance he needs throughout the day. But maybe, with time, we can work on building his independence a little.” She offered him a gentle smile. “But overall, James, he’s a lovely kid. Really.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. Lovely. Not a problem. Not difficult. Just… lovely.

She turned to retrieve the tea, and as she was about to place his mug on the table, the sleeve of her wool jacket caught on a rough splinter in the wood. The movement sent the cup tipping, and a small splash of hot liquid spilled onto her hand and the table.

“Oh, fuc-” She caught herself just in time, trading the curse for a flustered, “Oh, dear.” She hastily set the mug down, shaking her wrist slightly as she clutched her burned fingers.

Before Bucky even registered the thought, his body moved on instinct. Old chivalry, muscle memory, -maybe both- he reached out, pulling off his glove in one swift motion and gently cradling her injured hand in his own. He wrapped his cool metal fingers around hers, as an automatic attempt to soothe the burn.

She tensed.

The reaction was so small that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But he did. The slight stiffening of her shoulders, the way her breath caught, the way she froze beneath his touch for a fraction of a second.

His brain caught up with his actions.

Shit.

This was something he did all the time with Thomas, an instinctive, unconscious movement, one that made sense when it was his son crying over scraped knees or bumped elbows. But this wasn’t Thomas. This his son’s teacher. A stranger, technically. And here he was, holding her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He winced inwardly, twitching his fingers slightly as if preparing to pull away, to apologize, to-

But then, she relaxed.

Just enough for him to notice. Her grip eased slightly as her fingers rested in his palm, still warm from the tea. And then, to his utter surprise, she let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Well,” she murmured, “I guess that’s one way to handle it. Thank you,” she said, sincerily.

Bucky swallowed hard.

He wasn’t accustomed to people thanking him. Hell, he wasn’t accustomed to people wanting to share a space with him. The proof of that was in how damn difficult it had been to find a school willing to take Thomas in without judgment.

Was it always so hot in here?

The stupid shirt Steve had lent him to look presentable felt glued to his skin, clinging uncomfortably as a fresh wave of heat crept up his neck. He let go of her hand -reluctantly- and with a quick movement, he popped open a couple of the top buttons, trying to breathe. His fingers ran absentmindedly through his hair in the process, loosening a few strands from the short ponytail.

She blinked.

Hard.

His deep voice cut through the charged moment. “Don’t mention it. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” He murmured the words as he hastily pulled his glove back on, as if reestablishing some invisible boundary he had accidentally crossed.

It took her a second -maybe two- to remember how to speak after that sight.

“Oh, not at all,” she finally managed, waving her hand nonchalantly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, so you are perdoned.”

“Oh, good,” he added promptly.

“Yeah, good,” she echoed.

And then- silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

The kind that stretched for just a few seconds too long, making the air feel thick and awkward. It was ridiculous, really. She was supposed to be having a professional conversation, and yet here she was, staring at him like a flustered schoolgirl while he sat there, stiff and unreadable, probably wondering if she had a single functioning brain cell left.

Snapping herself out of it, she straightened in her chair, clearing her throat as she grabbed a folder and a pen. Professional. Focused.

“Let’s start with the questions,” she stated, determined to get back on track. “How is the family group composed?”

A faint tick appeared in his jaw. “Just the two of us.”

She nodded, jotting it down. “Do you receive any kind of support from extended family members or close friends?”

Bucky hesitated. “I have… friends.” A pause. Then, a little softer, “Oh, um… my friend Steve is like an uncle to him.”

She froze for half a second, pen hovering above the paper. Steve.

As in Steve Rogers.

And suddenly, the fact that James Barnes -Bucky Barnes- was sitting in her tiny office, answering questions about kindergarten pickup times and playtime habits, felt almost surreal.

But she pushed past it, nodding as if it was just any other answer. “Tell me about a normal day in Thomas’ life. From the moment he wakes up until bedtime.”

The questions continued, one after another. But to his surprise, none of them were invasive.

Nothing about him. Nothing about his past. Nothing about the child’s mother.

She was only interested in Thomas, his routines, his favorite activities, the people who cared for him. What made him happy, what calmed him down, what sparked his curiosity.

And he just felt… like a normal Dad.

She tapped the pen against her lower lip, scanning the notes she had just taken, furrowing her brows slightly in concentration.

Bucky tried to keep his eyes anywhere else; on the folder, on the damn splintered table, but somehow, his gaze flickered back to her.

Her lips were slightly parted. Soft. That translucent lip gloss she wore caught the autumn light just enough to glisten innocently. She didn’t seem aware of it, of the way the movement drew attention, of how effortless it was.

He clenched his jaw. Pathetic.

Maybe Sam had a point. Maybe he really did need to -what was how he had said it?- "get some." Because sitting here, staring at his kid’s teacher like the virgin Steve used to be back in the day, was not normal.

Especially when she was just… there. In a damn tempera-stained jumper, flipping through papers, completely unaware that his brain had short-circuited over something as simple as the way she absentmindedly pressed the tip of the pen to her lip.

He shifted slightly in his seat, making the little chair squeak under his weight. He needed to get a grip.

She looked up then, extending the forms she had just filled out. “Here, read it, and if it’s fine for you, please sign it, and we’re done.”

He reached for the papers, his fingers briefly grazing hers. She was already moving, sorting through more documents, rummaging inside what looked like her purse as he scanned the form.

A moment later, he signed it, handed it back, and stood up.

The room somehow felt even smaller with him standing.

She tucked the papers into a folder, then hesitated for the briefest second before extending something toward him. A small, brightly wrapped raspberry lollipop.

He just looked at it.

She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly self-conscious. “Oh, um- it’s just a thing we do,” she explained, feeling a little ridiculous. “Teachers give a sweet to the parent who comes in for the visit. A friendly token.”

Bucky glanced at the candy, then at her.

Slowly, he reached out, taking it from her hand.

“If you feel too old to try it, give it to Thomas,” she teased lightly. “Though I must say, they’re pretty good.”

Bucky barely managed to keep his expression neutral as an entirely inappropriate image flashed through his mind involving her slightly parted lips against the bright red lollipop, swirling her tongue over the slick, glossy-

Nope. Absolutely not. He shoved the thought into the darkest corner of his brain and slammed the door shut.

Clearing his throat, he glanced at the candy in his palm. He was pretty sure the last time he had something like this was in the ‘20s, running through cobblestone streets in short, ragged pants and scraped knees. It felt oddly foreign now, a relic of a time buried long ago.

“No, it’s… it’s alright,” he muttered, tucking the candy into his jeans pocket, trying to expel the compelling thoughts swirling at the back of his mind.

Her smile lingered a moment as she straightened the papers, and again, the moment stretched just enough to make the air feel heavier than before.

She cleared her throat. “Well, the institution will be asking for another meeting in about three months to give you an update on how he’s doing. It’s the same for all the kids,” she explained, slipping back into professional mode.

Bucky nodded, adjusting his stance slightly, like he was grateful to have something to focus on.

“I’ve also added you to the parents-teacher WhatsApp group," she continued, "as a way to communicate news, the things kids should bring, upcoming events, that kind of stuff.” She hesitated, glancing at her notes before adding, “Um… it says you don’t have the app installed, so it would be great if you could download it.”

And then, silence.

Bucky barely moved, but something in his posture changed. His gaze flickered toward the small table, where his old clamshell phone rested near his keys.

She noticed.

That was not a smartphone, and it was definitely not suited for a parent-teacher chitchat group.

Before he could say anything, she quickly added, “It’s a policy here, since, well… it’s assumed everyone has it.” She smiled, small and reassuring. “But don’t worry, I can send you a normal text separately with the same information. Just… without the cool emojis, I’ll have to stick to ASCII.” She winked.

That got something out of him, a faint huff, not quite a laugh, but close. His shoulders relaxed just slightly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Appreciate that.”

----

After a couple of months, Bucky was relieved -no, grateful- to see Thomas flourishing in his new environment.

The once-quiet, wary boy had slowly started to open up. He was more talkative now, his voice no longer a whisper but something steadier, stronger. He laughed more, flinched less. When he came home from school, he actually talked about his day, about the games they played, about Flora and Matthew, about how Miss Y/n read the best stories and always did the funniest voices.

Bucky didn’t know if she realized just how much of a difference she had made.

One afternoon, while Thomas was scribbling dinosaurs at the kitchen table, Bucky’s old clamshell phone vibrated against the counter.

He flipped it open. A general message from her number.

Dear families, our annual fundraising event is coming up! Each grade and nursery group will participate by preparing goodies to sell, baked treats, crafts, and more! We encourage everyone to take part and help make it a great day for the kids!

Bucky was already closing the phone when it binged another time. It was her again.

Don’t know about your culinary expertise, but we could really use some strong dads to help build the booths this saturday ;)

He blinked.

A just-for-him message.

For a second, he only stared at it, like his brain needed to catch up. The winking face at the end nearly made him short-circuit.

Clearly, she was recruiting him for his enhanced strength.

It wasn’t like the other parents would be thrilled to have him around. He rarely talked to them, never lingered after pickup, never engaged in small talk about school trips or birthday parties. The most interaction he got was a nod or a hesitant smile. Acknowledgment, but never an invitation.

And he understood why. He wasn’t the kind of dad people naturally gravitated toward. He wasn’t friendly like Steve, or charming like Sam. He was… him. Quiet. Intimidating. A man with too much history and too little practice in fitting into normal spaces.

So why would anyone want him there?

He exhaled sharply, glancing at the message again. Maybe she’d sent the same thing to a few others. Maybe it wasn’t just for him.

But… she had sent it. With a winky face.

And despite the self-doubt crawling at the back of his mind, he couldn’t ignore the small, reluctant warmth blooming in his chest.

Because for whatever reason, she thought to ask.

-----

When the Saturday came, Bucky was sharp on time at the open kindergarten gate, with Steve.

Not that it had taken too much to convince him. Steve, being the charitable man he was, never missed an opportunity to help. But Bucky also knew his friend well enough to recognize the other reason he had agreed to come so quickly, curiosity. Curiosity about the place Thomas spent his days. And curiosity about the “winking emote teacher.”

Bucky had two reasons for bringing Steve.

One: With two super soldiers on site, setting up the booths would take a fraction of the time.

Two: He didn’t want to come alone. Not that he’d admit it outright, but walking into a social setting full of parents and staff -people he knew saw him as an outsider even if they tried to mask it- felt a little too exposed. At least with Steve there, the focus will be put elsewhere, and he knew his level of self-consciousness will drop.

Of course, Steve suspected as much. But to his credit, he had the courtesy of not saying anything.

They hadn’t been there long enough when he spotted her across the yard, balancing a few wooden planks in her arms as she walked toward the setup area. She was focused, navigating carefully, until a rogue Lego piece nearly sent her sprawling.

In an instant Steve was there, supporting her before she could hit the ground.

She let out a startled gasp, gripping his forearms instinctively. And then, the realization showed all over her face. Because holy shit, Captain America was in the kindergarten.

“Uh- thanks,” she said, letting go of his forearms, looking a little flustered.

Steve, ever the gentleman, just smiled. “No problem.”

Then, as if remembering there were other people present, she glanced over his shoulder, and finally noticed Bucky, standing just a few steps behind, looking slightly out of place.

Her face lit up with recognition. “Oh, hey! You made it. and with backup! That adds points, you know” She grinned, tilting her head playfully. “More help means more credit when it’s time to take home the leftover cakes and pies.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s a thing?”

“Absolutely.” She crossed her arms, pretending to be serious. “Hard work should be rewarded. And what better prize than free dessert?”

Steve chuckled, throwing Bucky a look. “See, now that’s motivation.”

Bucky shifted slightly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah. Um I thought some extra hands would come in handy, anyway.”

She nodded, rocking back on her heels slightly. “Well, I’m glad you did. We can definitely use the help, some of these booths have been in storage forever, and let’s just say… they’re not in peak condition.”

Steve smirked. “Don’t worry ma’am, we’ll make sure they stand up straight.”

She snorted. “That’s the bare minimum we’re hoping for, yeah.” Then she proceeded to give them a quick rundown of what was needed: booth assembly, structural support, and general heavy lifting. After making sure they understood, she left them to it, moving to a shaded corner where a group of teachers and moms were busy painting banners.

As Bucky grabbed a plank, Steve picked up another, glancing over his shoulder toward her. Then, with a knowing half-smile, he turned to Bucky.

“So… I assume she is Tommy’s teacher?”

Bucky didn’t even look up. Just gave a curt nod, with an unreadable expression.

Steve hummed. “She’s cute.”

He didn’t take the bait. Just kept his gaze firmly on the plank in his hands, jaw tightening just a fraction.

Steve pressed a little more. “Real cute.”

This time, Bucky gave him a noncommittal grunt. No eye contact. No reaction.

"Do you think the teachers might do a kissing booth?" Steve asked nonchalantly, setting a plank into place like he hadn’t just thrown a live grenade into the conversation.

That got a reaction.

Bucky’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second before he shot him a side glance. “…Is that still a thing nowadays?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah. Dunno if it’s as chaste as it was in our time, Buck, but it’s still runnin’. Clint told me sometimes they have them at his kids’ school.”

Bucky pressed his mouth into a thin line, gripping the hammer a little tighter.

Steve chuckled, sensing an opening. “I mean, it makes sense, you know. A lot of divorced dads…”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” Bucky cut him off, hammering a plank into place with maybe a little too much force. The loud crack of wood echoed through the yard.

Steve just smirked. “Touchy subject?”

Bucky ignored him, grabbing another nail.

"You know, Buck, I think you should ask her out."

"Shut up, punk."

"I'm serious. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Bucky turned to him, giving him a look so dry it could’ve drained the Atlantic. His next words were slow, like he was explaining something to a mentally impaired person.

"Let’s see. First of all, she’s my child’s teacher. It’s unethical."

Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky steamrolled right over him.

"Two, I can barely deal with myself most days. I can’t trust my own mind sometimes. I’m trying to put my shit together because of Thomas, but you know there are days I can barely get out of bed. So adding another person into our lives right now?" He shook his head. "I don’t think that’s a good idea."

Steve stayed quiet, watching him.

"And three," Bucky exhaled, returning to the plank, "I don’t think she’d be interested, damn I even don’t know if she is seeing someone. And I don’t want to make our interactions weird."

Steve tilted his head, giving him a look that was both skeptical and amused but, to Bucky’s relief, he kept his mouth shut didn’t press further.

-----

After a couple of hours, Bucky and Steve eventually split up, taking on different tasks. As expected, Steve had a small crowd of parents ‘casually’ gravitating around him, helping with his station while subtly asking for pictures and sneaking in questions between hammering and measuring.

Bucky, meanwhile, retreated to a quieter corner, bending some metal pipes to straighten the framework. It was a stark contrast, really. Steve walked into a place and illuminated it, drew people in without even trying. And Bucky… well.

He worked alone, unnoticed. Or so he thought.

A sudden hand on his shoulder broke his trance, and he startled just slightly.

“Sorry!” she promptly removed her hand. “I called your name, but you didn’t seem to hear.”

Bucky just blinked, “It’s fine.”

She smiled, holding up a thermos. “Thought maybe you’d want some coffee?”

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he tried to shake off the momentary stiffness. “I, uh… yeah. That’d be nice. Thank you.” His voice came out a little rough, and his eye contact was fleeting at best.

Fucking Steve. Bringing up his nonexistent love life like an asshole, and now Bucky was hyperaware of her presence. Every small shift of her stance, every little tilt of her head. It was funny -no, it wasn’t- how their roles had completely reversed.

Once upon a time, Steve had been the one fumbling, awkward, struggling to find his footing with women. And now? He was Captain America, confident and magnetic, while Bucky was… whatever the hell this was. A fucking mess.

“Thank you for coming, James. Really,” she said as she poured coffee into a small cup.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“And thanks for bringing help with you,” she added playfully. “It seems everyone is livelier since you two got here.”

He grumbled something under his breath, bending the pipe back and forth absentmindedly, like someone fidgeting with a strand of grass.

She caught the movement and grinned. “Showoff.”

Bucky huffed, pressing his lips into a firm line to stop the small, unwilling twitch of amusement threatening to surface.

“I’m going to miss this,” she said suddenly, looking at the thermos handle. “The community here is really nice. Luckily, I’ll still be around for the event.”

Bucky’s gaze snapped to her “What?”

She blinked. “I said, I’m going to miss-”

“Are you taking a vacation?” he interrupted, unable to stop himself.

Her brows furrowed slightly. “What? No-” Then, she realized. “Oh. James… Jane is coming back.”

Bucky just stared at her, the words not quite clicking in his brain. “Who?”

She tilted her head, looking almost apologetic. “Jane. The actual teacher. I thought you knew, I’m just a substitute. The real teacher was on medical leave, but she’s ready to return now.”

The words settled like a slow drop of ink into water, spreading, tainting something that had been perfect moments ago.

“I didn’t- didn’t know,” he admitted, quietly. Maybe because Thomas had entered late in the school year, they’d missed that little piece of information.

She seemed to notice the shift in him, the way his grip tightened around the empty cup. There was a certain distress in his expression, subtle but there.

“Don’t worry,” she said gently, trying to reassure him. “Jane is an excellent teacher and person. Thomas will be thrilled to have her in the class.”

Bucky nodded, curtly, handing the thermos cup back.

In all the interactions he’d had with her, the drop-offs, their little conversations, the parent meeting, the fact that she was just a substitute had never popped up.

"When’s your last day?" he asked, suddenly very interested in the twisted pipe in his hands.

“The Friday before the event,” she replied. “I’m still going to participate since I helped organize it, but by Monday, Jane will be here.” She paused, as if anticipating his reaction. “I can assure you, It won’t be a sudden change for the kids. This week, she’ll come for a couple of hours every day to introduce herself so they can get used to her.”

Bucky gave a slow nod, gripping the metal a little tighter than necessary.

It shouldn’t have really mattered. It shouldn’t have made him feel anything at all.

And yet, the news bothered him.

Because things had been fine. He wasn’t close to her, not in any significant way, but she was a constant. And if there was one thing Bucky Barnes wasn’t fond of, it was change.

It wasn’t like he had been expecting anything more than what he already had, which wasn’t much. Just crumbs, really. Small moments of connection. Casual chats, occasional teasing remarks that made something in his chest pull in a way he ignored. The way she talked to him like any other parent—like a man, not a reputation.

But it wasn’t just that, was it?

There were other things, little details that had wormed their way into his awareness without permission. The way her voice softened when she spoke to Thomas. The way her soft body looked like it would fit perfectly against his if he just- no. The way her eyes lingered on him just a second longer than necessary sometimes, making him wonder if…

Bucky exhaled sharply, straightening his pose, forcing the thoughts back.

It was comfortable. And, somehow, warm.

And now she was going to leave.

And maybe it was stupid, but it affected him more than he wanted to admit.

Chapter 2

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[lesservillain]

baby daddy!eddie x mom!reader

cw: smut, non established relationship, best friend!eddie as well, idiots in love

wc: 3.8k

Closing the door as gently as he could, Eddie tip toed down the hall of the trailer and rounded into the kitchen to get himself a beer. He’d played hard enough with Autumn that she could barely keep her eyes open through her bath, but that also meant he wore himself out in the process. So after cracking open a can, he plops his ass down and turns on the TV, ready to chill until he passes out on the couch.

Well, that was the plan. Just as he got comfortable, there was a small knock on the trailer door. With a frustrated sigh, Eddie jumps back up, mumbling something about people coming to his house so late at night.

“Listen, I’ve told you all I don’t fucking deal anymore—Woah!”

Instead of some annoying kids looking for weed, Eddie was met with your sniffling nose and tear stained cheeks. He immediately went into best friend mode, wrapping you in a big hug and letting you get those emotions out.

After some crying and a soaked shoulder later, you finally peel yourself away from Eddie and attempted to talk, but only babbling came out.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Eddie says, thumbs rubbing the tops of your shoulders. “Just calm down and tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to compose yourself.

“He-he-he g-got mar-married,” you hiccup out.

Eddie blinks at you. He knows exactly what you were talking about. Dustin told him back when that Harrington met a girl about 6 months ago and apparently they hit it off right away. The last thing he wanted to do was tell you about her considering your long time pining for him Especially considering he’s the reason Harrington would never ask you out. But you ended up finding out on your own, and devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.

It seemed soon in Eddie’s opinion, granted he would marry you tomorrow if you would say yes. When Dustin told him that he was going to be the best man that the wedding, Eddie had mixed feelings. He knew that it would kill you when you found out. That you’d react exactly as you were now.

Actually, you’re doing a little better than he anticipated.

“He came into the store and,” you blew your nose into the toilet paper he grabbed for you, “and I saw the ring on his finger when he was getting his money out of his wallet.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“They haven’t even known each other that long! He’s such an idiot…”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that,” Eddie jokes, rolling his eyes.

“Oh god, what if--do you think it’s because she’s pregnant?”

Eddie’s pretty sure Dustin would have told him if that was the reason why, but it’s not an unreasonable guess.

“I don’t know, could be? Or maybe Steve Harrington is just an idiot like you said. And maybe they’ll be divorced by this time next year. Who knows, right?”

You sighed, leaning into Eddie and resting your head against him. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset. He was never going to ask me out anyway. No one wants a young single mom. Steve has his whole life to do what he wants, why would he be with someone who has so much baggage?”

“Hey, don’t say that about Audy,” Eddie scolds.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” you correct, “I was talking about myself. I’d never be with someone who didn’t accept Autumn. Even Steve Harrington. I just…I’m damaged goods, Eddie.”

Eddie could feel himself getting upset but didn’t want to make things worse right now, so he took a few breathes to steady himself. He said your name sternly, pulling your full attention to him.

“I don’t like it when you say things like that. It makes me feel like it’s my fault--”

“Eddie,” you stop him before he can get another word out, “You know that you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve told you before that if I was going to get pregnant right out of high school with anyone that I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but you.”

Eddie knows this, and he feels the same. But it’s not what he wants.

Even though it was all a total accident, he hoped that night the two of you spent together was going to be the next step for both of you. And even though he was scared after you told him with tears in your eyes then that he had gotten you pregnant, he wished with all his might that it would bring the two of you closer together.

Which it did in a way. Obviously the two of you would be bound together for the rest of your lives, but it wasn’t in the way he wanted. You still were head over heels for Steve, and there was no way Eddie could even compare to the king.

“Yeah…I know.” He says somberly. Your brows pinch, making him worried he should have said something else.

Then your expression changed. You looked at him intensely for a moment, before your eyes became lidded and…were you leaning in?

Eddie thought fast, making a quick decision to put his hand over your mouth, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes go wide as dinner plates, tears perching on your waterline as what hot embarrassment washes over you.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, suddenly regretting everything. This could have been his chance and he was an idiot.

You pull his hand from his mouth, sitting in silence for a moment before you begin to laugh. It catches Eddie off guard and he freezes.

“Eddie, I should be the one apologizing,” you say with giggles. “I’m the one who was stupid enough to try and kiss her best friend for a second time. We both know what happened the first time and the last thing we need is history to repeat itself.”

Eddie still felt conflicted. Your tone wasn’t sitting right with him, like there was some level of self depreciation in your words.

After a moment you stop laughing. Your face warps into worry as you stand from the couch.

“I-I need to go—“

“No, wait!” Eddie stands to grab your wrist before you could run away. He pulls you into him and hugs you tightly to him. You stand still before slowly wrapping your arms around him, gripping his shirt in your hands.

“Listen, I know you’re going through a lot emotionally right now, but…I’m here for whatever you need. Even if…” He trails off for a moment, knowing that he’s just going to hurt himself if he lets you use him. But he can’t turn you away when you need him. He’d rather you take advantage of his feelings than run off to someone else who would hook up with you without second thought.

“Even if it means crossing a boundary that we’ve already crossed before.”

Eddie feels you press into him harder, face buried in his chest. And when you look up at him, Eddie thinks he could melt into a puddle and let you mold him to however you’d like.

“I don’t think I should make any rash decisions right now,” you say with a sniffle. “I think I just need to clear my head. Let myself rot in my own misery instead of dumping it all on you.”

“Or,” Eddie says with a smile, “you could rot with me. I rented some movies and some beers in the fridge that have your name on them. I think we have some leftover pizza still, too.”

Your smile was so bright it was comparable to the sun rising. There was nothing in the world that could keep him down as long as you were happy. Eddie probably would have dropped out of school after his second failure if you hadn’t simply smiled at him and told him that he would graduate next year, for sure. He probably only did because you smiled at him every time he got a good grade.

The way you hugged him for a long time after a report card with no F’s on it kept Eddie’s head in the zone that last school year. And, well, the way your body felt under his when he finally graduated…

Eddie shook his head, wracking his brain for anything to keep his mind from thinking about that night right now. There’s no way him getting a boner while you were still holding on to him so tight would be good.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” you finally say after staring up at him for several beats. But Eddie caught the somber look in your eyes. It was going to take a lot of distracting to get you in a good head space.

“You know, I think we might still have some popcorn, too.”

After a few drinks, some weed, and a movie and a half later, Eddie finds himself waking up on his couch at some point after falling asleep. The bright, staticy screen causes him to squint his eyes, turning his head enough to bump his chin against the top of your head.

Eddie looks down at where you’re leaning into his side. He vaguely remembers wrapping an arm around you before the two of you had succumbed to sleep. It pains him to possibly wake you but the urge to pee is what startled him awake in the first place, so he does his best to untangle himself from you and sneaks to the bathroom.

On the way back to the couch, Eddie decided to stop in his room and grab a blanket for the two of you. But when he returns, he finds you sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Hey,” you croak out, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers back. “I brought us a blanket.”

You stretch before standing up from the couch. “I should probably head home, Eddie.”

“Sweetheart its,” he leans to check the time on the microwave, “3 in the morning.”

Your eyes go wide, hands running over your face. “It is? Fuuuuck.”

“Just stay,” Eddie says, walking over to you and wrapping you up in the blanket. You groan, feeling conflicted on if you should stay and sleep on Eddie’s couch or if you should brave the drive home.

“Hey, if you stay, you don’t have to drive all the way over here to get Fae in the morning.”

“Ugh, okay you got me,” you say, giving in. You sit back down on the couch and start to make yourself comfortable.

“Wait, you can sleep in my bed. Promise I don’t bite.”

That took less convincing as you pop back up, dragging the blankets behind you as you wobble to Eddie’s room. Eddie laughs as you plop into his bed, stealing one of his pillows to make yourself comfortable.

“Hey save some room for me,” he says, walking around to the other side to climb in. He lays next to you, adjusting in an obnoxious manner that has you giggling. You turn to face him and he does the same.

“I love you,” you say at the tail end of a giggle. It’s something said frequently between the two of you. Genuine as it’s spoken after years of friendship.

“Love you, too,” Eddie says with a sigh. Sleep soon takes you both over again. The only sounds that can be heard is the sound of the a/c doing its best to cool down the trailer.

Eddie felt himself waking once again, this time much more comfortably in his own bed. He yawned, shaking a bit as the feeling of waking overcame his body.

The sun peaking through the cracks of his curtains gave the room just enough light that he could see the room with a slight glow. Turning his head, he chanced to see if you were still laying with him. He had a dream that you’d left with Autumn and ran away with Steve that left a sick feeling in his stomach.

Much to his delight you were indeed still occupying the bed with him. Smiling wide as you looked at him, already awake where you lay.

“Mornin’,” he says in his morning voice, and your eyes flicker.

“Morning,” you squeak back. As Eddie turns to face you, your hand finds its way out from under the covers and reaches out towards him. Your fingers gently glide across his cheek, rubbing against the stubble as you push his hair out of his face.

The way you’re looking at him has Eddie’s tummy feeling funny, but in a different way from his dream. You’re looking at him the same way he looks at you.

Suddenly, you push yourself up on your arm, hand still on his cheek as you start to lean in once again. Eddie’s heart beats hard against his chest as you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

It lasts a few moments, and Eddie melts into it. It was a kiss like none he’s ever had before. Not even compared to the last time the two of you kissed before Autumn was born. This kiss felt like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter morning, the warmth spreading to every part of his body as he drank you in.

When you pulled away, Eddie chased after you, not wanting it to end so soon unknowing if it would ever happen again. When you don’t kiss him again, his eyes finally open to meet yours. They’re bouncing everywhere, scanning his face as if looking for an answer written on his skin.

“Eddie…”

But Eddie doesn’t let you ponder much longer, hand snaking around your head to pull you into him once more. This time more feverishly, the heat palpable between the two of you.

You shift so that you can bury your hands in his hair, and Eddie takes advantage of this to move himself above you. Eddie kisses you into the pillow beneath you, long kisses turning into passionate smacking, poking the fire that was burning between you.

“Tell me to stop,” Eddie says as his lips begin to move down your cheek and to your neck. He says your name breathily, “Tell me now, because I won't be able to stop once this starts.”

“I-I can’t. I won’t,” you stutter, hands grabbing at his waist as he kisses and nips at your neck. Eddie breathes against you, body alight knowing that you wanted this as much as him.

“But,” you say, stopping him in his tracks. You give him a coy smile, nodding towards the door. “You better make it quick. You know she’ll wake up at any moment.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Don’t gotta tell me twice. Better get to work then.”

Eddie suddenly lifts the blanket above the both of you and disappears underneath it. Soft kisses leave a trail from your knees to the apex between them. Eddie slips his fingers in the hem of the sleep pants he let you borrow, pulling them down with your panties in one quick motion. There was barely any light to see, so he decided to just dive in tongue first.

He ate you out like a man starved. Your thighs try hard to wrap around him as he works you up on his tongue, but his strong arms hold you open for him. Eddie groans at the way your fingers grip his hair, tugging just enough to burn so good against his scalp.

Once he added fingers, you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself quiet. It was like Eddie knew exactly what you liked, because not long after you were coming undone, riding his face as you did.

Eddie crawls up your body, head resting between your breasts as he pokes out from under the covers.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you pant, looking at him in awe.

“And that’s not even the best part,” he teases, making you roll your eyes at him. You grab his face and bring him closer to you, tasting yourself on his lips as you kiss him again.

Eddie rolls his hips subconsciously, and you can feel how hard he is as he grinds against you. You want to say you also forgot how big he was, but it’s something you didn’t want to admit you thought about often.

Your hand travels between you, fingers trailing against his skin as you reach the hem of his boxers. Slipping under it, you feel your way to his hard cock, taking it in your hand to pump him. He whines against your lips, hips moving faster in your grip. You watch with awe struck eyes as his beautiful face contorts in pleasure above you.

“Please,” he pants out as he fucks your hand, “Wanna be inside you. Can I?”

You nod silently, unbelievably turned on by your best friend for the second time now.

He works fast pulling his boxers off quickly, a loud thwaping coming from his cock smacking against his stomach after getting caught on the waistband. Your eyes go wide as you take in his size.

After almost 2 years you’re still shocked at what Eddie Munson is packing. Those dumb ass cheerleaders that picked the bone head jocks over him have no idea what they missed out on.

Eddie settled himself between your legs, spitting on his own cock to get it good and wet before rubbing it in your soaked folds. You had a moment of clarity, realizing that Eddie wasn’t wearing a condom. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words got caught up in a moan as Eddie pushed his way inside of you.

The stretch took your breath away. Eddie seesawed his way into your tight cunt, opening you up on his cock until he was balls deep inside of you. He placed his hands on either hip and started moving, holding you tight as he worked up his pace.

Every thrust felt like too much and not enough at the same time. The constant knocking against your sweet spot had you seeing stars quickly, still worked up from him eating you out. The pretty sounds that Eddie was making wasn’t helping either, but you still had enough mind to shush him so that he wouldn’t wake your daughter.

Eddie’s pace quickens, and he makes the fatal mistake of adding his thumb to the mix. It only throttles you to the edge for a second time this morning. It’s not much longer before your vision goes white, toes curling as your orgasm takes over. It's probably the hardest you’ve cum in a long time.

“Oh, fuck.”

You barely registered Eddie’s words, but you definitely felt the reason behind his curses. Eddie was cumming deep inside you, balls emptying into your pussy as you were still riding out your own orgasm.

In the moment it felt amazing, but the post orgasm bliss left you crashing as you realized the very real situation you were both in.

Eddie felt himself being pushed by you, taking him out of his own high as he stumbled back on his ass. As you open your mouth to speak, Eddie is hit with a wave of deja vu with every word.

“Did you fucking cum in me?” The words came out in slow motion and Eddie’s body broke out in cold sweat.

“I-I’m sorry. I was going to pull out, I just—“

“What? You forgot? Are you kidding me Eddie? Do you not remember what happened the last time?”

Right on cue, your daughter's whines could be heard from across the hall. You sigh, kicking the covers completely away from you and grabbing the pajama pants you had back on.

“Listen, I really am sorry,” Eddie says, looking at you with big, sad eyes. You groan, unable to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that.

“What are we going to do then, Eddie?” You ask him, walking out of his bedroom to get your daughter.

Eddie sits on the bed for a moment and thinks. He knows that you getting pregnant again while Autumn’s only and a half isn't ideal. Not that you being pregnant is ideal anyway, but honestly Eddie wouldn’t be mad about it.

He was so head over heels for both you and Autumn that he doesn’t hate the idea of another person to love is the worst thing. But he’s also not the one doing all the hard work. And if it wasn’t obvious the first time that having a kid wouldn’t fix any problems, then having a second would probably not make much of a difference in your feelings towards him.

The door opens again and Eddie watches as you enter with a squealing toddler on your hip, clearly happy to see both mommy and daddy.

“Morning, sweet girl,” Eddie cooes, scooping his baby up and smothering her with kisses, sending Autumn into a fit of giggles.

“I went ahead and changed her. If you want to dress her I’ll make breakfast.”

Eddie gave you a quick salute as you went to the kitchen, leaving him and your mini me to get ready for the day. It took a lot of wrestling but he was able to get the little one dressed, including hair done, and looking presentable for the day.

Fixing her up in her highchair, Eddie sat at the small kitchen table and breathed a sigh of relief. You shook your head at his theatrics, setting breakfast down for the both of them.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Eddie said, spooning some applesauce into Autumn’s mouth. “After we eat, why don’t I follow you to the pharmacy and we can pick you up a Plan B?”

You quirk an eyebrow in amusement. “You have Plan B money this time?”

“Ha ha,” Eddie laughs dryly at your reference to the last time you had sex, the both of you freaking out over having no money. Thankfully Eddie was able to get a good job at Hawkins Auto Body when you got pregnant. He makes pretty good money now considering he was able to get his own trailer. Money is still tight, but he can manage.

“Fine, better eat up then, or else you’re gonna have two mouths to feed instead of one.”

Eddie looks at your daughter, spitting image of him, besides your nose, and smiles. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but…maybe one day.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex WC:2.2K

A/N: Why not? Enjoy!

"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.

He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.

His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.

His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.

It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.

Or was it?

He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.

Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.

He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.

He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.

Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.

But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.

You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.

The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.

"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.

With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.

"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.

"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.

"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.

It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.

Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.

And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.

Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.

But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.

The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.

Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.

Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.

You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.

Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.

Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.

"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."

You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.

"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.

He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.

And then you tell him the rest.

"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.

But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.

Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.

This was it. The crux of last night's argument.

You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.

When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.

Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.

You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"

It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.

"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.

You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."

He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.

With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.

"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."

[headkiss]

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

-

1.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

-

2.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

-

3.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

-

4.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

-

+1

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marve: Metal

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Description: Reader really likes Bucky's metal fingers

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, Metal Fingers, Fingering, Oral Sex, Creampie, Love Bites, Reader wants Bucky's metal fingers, Established Relationship, Cuties, Dirty Talk

Words: 3,105

Hi - Reader is me, I can't stop thinking about Bucky's damn metal fingers. Enjoy!

Completed One Shot

Bucky had been dating you, or as he would call it 'courting you' for a few months now. You had met through Steve and had been inseparable ever since. You were round his apartment one evening, a glass of wine and a book in hand on the couch, whilst he sat on the other end of the couch with a mirrored glass and book of his own too. It was one of your favourite ways to spend the evenings with him. Though this time you were thinking about something, something you had wanted from him for a few weeks, maybe more. 

Bucky would take the occasional sip of his wine and glance over to you from time to time, a slight smile forming on his lips as he admired you. 

You notice him watching and smirk, deciding to go for it and ask for your idea. You place both glass of wine and book down on the coffee table and face Bucky, moving over to sit right by him, one of your legs curled on the couch and the other dangling off the couch. "Bucks?"

"Yeah, doll?" He asks, he looks over his book at you, his wine glass resting against his jaw, he would hold it there when he read, and it was always something you loved. 

You take a deep breath, worried only slightly he would get angry at the request, though that was a silly thought, Bucky would never get angry, ever. "If I were to ask something, you wouldn't think I was weird, right?" You ask, being slightly vague. He raised an eyebrow in slight confusion as he nodded. 

"Of course not" He answers cooly. You shuffled a little closer, pressing your leg against his, and you reached up to idly stroke his metal arm. You could feel him relax as your fingers touched him. 

"What is it?" He asks. 

"Promise you won't judge?" You ask, feeling a little flushed as his blue eyes track your movements. He looked a little confused, a small frown came onto his lips. 

"I promise, sweetheart"

You believed him, you did, but that didn't stop you from holding up your pinky to him. Bucky let out a small chuckle and smile, he wrapped his pickie around yours. Here goes, you take in a deep breath. 

"Would you...uhh...finger me" You say, struggling a little over the words "With your mental fingers" You finally breathe out after a short pause. Bucky was a little surprised, he was definitely not expecting that request. But he quickly composed himself. He put his almost empty glass on the coffee table and moved gently to grab your waist, he lifts you up and places you on his lap. 

"Of course doll" He says grinning, his blue eyes sparkling, both his hands were on your hips, holding you close to him. 

"Fuck" You whisper "Really? Just like that?"

Bucky nodded, using his metal hand to gently run his fingers over your clothed back. He leaned in and placed his lips next to your ear. 

"Are you going to back down now?" He asks, chuckling softly against your skin. 

"Nope!" You almost squeal. Bucky smiled and gently nibbled at your earlobe before trailing kisses along your neck, leaving a burning trail along your throat. He then moved his lips to your shoulder, nipping lightly at your skin as his flesh hand ran down your side to them hem on your shirt. You gasped softly, his movements leaving you in a trace, helpless under his touch. 

You felt him smile against your skin as he kissed a new trail across the newly exposed skin of your collar as he uses his hand to push your shirt off your shoulder.

"Fuck, I want you so bad" You whimper, grinding down you could feel his hard length underneath you, your thin shorts leaving nothing to the imagination as you felt yourself grow wetter. 

"Doll..." He whispers against your neck, his voice love and husky. He started to grind back against you, biting at your neck now. "How bad do you want me?"

You grinded against him harder, both your hands were gripping his shoulders hard, his lips were still attacking your neck as you spoke. "I need you, more than I need oxygen, more than water, I need you"

Bucky growled and pressed harder against you, gripping you tighter against his body. He moved his lips back to your ear. His lips barely brushed against your ear as he spoke, sending shivers down your spine from feeling his breath on your ear. "You don't even know how badly I want you, baby"

"Fuck, Bucks...Take me" You beg. Bucky places one last kiss to your neck, his tongue grazing against your skin. 

"Gladly" In one swift movement he stood up off the couch, holding you flush against his body. His hands moved to support you from underneath your thighs and he began carrying you into his bedroom. You giggled softly as you held onto him. 

"Was the couch not good enough?" You ask. Bucky smirks, he pushes open the bedroom door with hit foot. He walks over to the bed and places you down so you lie in the middle of the bed. 

"It's more comfortable in bed, and I'm sure you'll like what I'm gonna do to you"

"I'm sure I will" You say smirking as you look up at him, watching as he takes his own shirt off "Gonna use those fucking metal fingers on me"

He smiles throwing his shirt somewhere in the room, leaning down slightly he pulls off your shirt completely and your shorts down, leaving you in your black underwear, you shivered in anticipation. 

"You know...I never tell you how good you look wearing my favourite colour" He says, taking a moment to admire you, he smirked as he raised his flesh hand up to gently cup your breast. 

"I'm only wearing black, you dork" You say with a breathless giggle. 

"I know, still my favourite" He says, chuckling as he leans forward to trailing kisses down your chest. He reaches behind you and unbuckles your bra. 

A few moments later you were both completely naked, you looked up at him, standing naked in front of you. "Fuck, you're beautiful" He stops for a moment, smiling down at you from your compliment. He always likes getting compliments from you. 

"Speak for yourself, doll" 

You giggle softly at his words and open your legs, spreading yourself completely for him, you raised a finger and made a 'come here' motion, smirking up at him. Bucky smirked and got onto the bed, crawling over you, taking his place between your legs, he moves to place a kiss to your lips, and you rut your hips up, his hard cock bounced against your wet core as you moved. 

"You're so eager" He said with a slight chuckle. 

"Aren't you?" You ask. Bucky chuckles and sits up slightly, kneeing in between your legs. He trails a finger from your knee up your inner leg, his touch leaving a tingly sensation on your skin, before he moved his metal hand to rest on your inner thigh, his flesh one moving to the other thigh. "Of course I am doll"

You gasp softly as you feel his metal touch your skin, it felt cold, colder than his flesh hand of course, you couldn't wait to feel the coolness elsewhere. His fingers ran across your skin, moving upwards, as his flesh hand held your thigh down, keeping your legs open. He watched as your breath hitched and a smirk slowly made its way onto his lips. 

"Ready, doll? Cause I sure as hell am"

"Fuck, I'm so ready" You all but whimper as you try to move your hips towards him. Bucky's eyes looked over your naked body, his expression hungry as his eyes took every part of you in. He felt like a man starved when he looked upon you. He moved, moving his head down to your body, you gasped softly as his lips kissed your clit so gently. 

"Bucks, don't tease me, not today" You whisper, you move your arms to rest over your head, you were fully stretched out over the bed, completely bare to him. 

Bucky chuckles softly and kisses your clit again "M'not teasing, I'm tasting what is mine" 

Your body shudders as he sucks your clit into his mouth, his soft lips holding the bundle of nerves as his tongue swipes over it. You whine and open your mouth, small gasps leave your lips. 

You feel his metal hand move, he walks his fingers up to your core, slipping them through your folds, you gasp loudly, moving one of your hands down to weave your fingers through his hair. As his metal fingers move through your wetness you can't help but feel naughty, he had never used those metal fingers on you before, it felt so forbidden. 

Bucky's tongue moved faster over your clit as he still sucked hard, his cool fingers dipped lower, he groaned against you as he dipped two fingertips into your wet hole. You clenched around them, wanting more from him, a soft whine left your lips. Bucky knew what you wanted, you felt so wet under his fingers, even metal he could feel you, he released your clit and replaced his lips with his thumb rubbing small circles as his index and middle finger dipped deeper within you. You were moaning softly and thrashing just slightly under his touch. 

"That's my girl, you feel good don't you" Bucky whispered, he dipped his head back down, connecting his lips with the skin of your hip. His fingers were fully in you now, his thumb moved harder against your clit as his mouth opened on your hip, he sucked in a small amount of skin, nipping you slightly. 

"Bucks!" You squeal, you moved every so slightly under him, his flesh hand was still on your thigh, holding you there, and his head on your hip was enough to keep you still. He grinned against your skin, sucking harder into your hip. He started to move his fingers, pulling them out completely and then back in, he repeated the motion a few times before his fingers started to fuck you. You clenched around them, feeling yourself become close to coming. 

"That's it sweet girl, you want to cum, don't you? Cum for me" He whispers, his lips brush against the mark he had just sucked into your skin. You moaned loudly feeling your body shake against him, your pussy clenched around him and your mind went fuzzy as you felt yourself finish around his metal fingers. 

Bucky slowed his movements after a few moments, he peppered kissing along your hips. "That's my girl" He whispers. 

You were breathing heavy, with your eyes closed. "Fuck, Bucky...that was so good"

His metal fingers were still deep within you, you shuddered as he slowly took them from you. You reached down, grabbing his wrist, it was cool to the touch. 

"No please, keep them there" You beg. Bucky smirked and did as told, he slowly pushed his fingers back fully within you. You sighed happily, humming. 

"So you like my metal fingers then, love?" He asks, you open your eyes looking at him with a looped smile. "Very much so" You answer with a goofy grin. He moves his fingers again, pressing his thumb back to your clit. 

"Since you like them so much, I want you to cum over them again" He whispers, as he moves his fingers he moves up taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You whined happily, you were far more sensitive now, and it felt heavenly. 

"Be a good girl, cum for me. Cum on my metal fingers like the dirty girl you are" He whispers, his lips move away from your nipple to speak, but were quickly back. He took your nipple in his mouth, sucking at them His fingers move faster, you were a whining mess underneath him as your legs shook, you could feel how wet you were, you were dripping down his fingers and down onto the bed below. 

Your arms moved, your hands gripping onto his shoulders tightly as you felt the pleasure wash over you once more, you clenched around his fingers feeling a gush of wetness leaving your hole, you felt lewd and heavenly. 

Moments later, you open your eyes to see Bucky grinning at you. "You squirted my love" He says, he looked like a boy on christmas, overjoyed that he had made you squirt, something only you had been able to do to yourself, you felt your cheeks redden just. 

"You weren't kidding, you really did need my metal fingers" He says with a grin, moving slightly, Bucky presses his lips to yours, you were overstimulated, and you loved it, you kissed him back, it was sloppy and messy and your tongues moved together, the kiss was wet and all over the place, and you moaned as it continued. 

"Let me fuck you?" He whispers against your mouth, you nod, not caring that your lips moved from his down to his chin as you moved. "Words baby, use your words" He adds. 

"Yes Bucky, fuck me please" You say. He moves, your body was limp against the bed, he took both of your legs and moved them to rest higher than they originally where. He gripped his own untouched cock, groaning as he felt himself, he was painfully hard and leaking as he moves his cock down to your wetness. Slowly he pressed his cock against your clit, your body rutted against his touch, moaning softly. 

"Ready my doll?" He asks as he slips the head of his cock through your folds, covering his cock with your wetness.

"Ready my love" You whisper, looking up at him, Bucky was truly beautiful, especially when he was above you. He grins down at you, and moves pushing his cock into your wet hole. You hissed slightly, Bucky was a big man, the serum made the already sturdy man even bigger. Back in the 40s Bucky claimed his cock was already above average, and the serum only made him bigger and thicker. You weren't judgy when it came to cocks, but Bucky's was one worth worshipping. 

"It's okay darling, it'll be alright" He whispers as he pushes himself into you, he stretched you so deliciously, his cock made your hole feel fuller than ever, it hurt as he pushed inside of you and you loved it. The pain only increased the pleasure. Bucky moved his metal hand down to your clit, he pressed his thumb down and circled sloppy motions onto the bundle of nerves. His flesh hand moved to cup your face, he held you softly, and moved his own head down to rest his forehead on you. Your eyes never left his. 

You gasped as his cock was fully in you now, he stayed still, giving you moments to get used to him. Bucky groaned as you clenched your tight cunt around him. "Fucking divine, you're so perfect" He muttered. You loved it when Bucky got talkative during sex, it always meant he was close to being lost in pleasure. 

"Bucky, fuck me" You whisper, moving one hand to rest on his neck, holding him there. He started to move his hips, slow at first, taking nearly all of his cock out from you, keeping only his head inside of you. A small grin came onto his lips before he presses into you again, filling you up completely, you gasped loudly, your back arched as you started to fuck you harder. 

"Bucky! Yes...oh gods" You squeal, his metal fingers circled harder against your clit, his movements were sloppy, you moved your tired legs to wrap around his hips, giving him access to push deeper within you. He did so, his hips were moving so fast now, filling you and stretching you completely, his groans were loud whilst his movements start becoming sloppier. 

"That's it Bucks" You whisper, knowing he was close.

"Give me one more" He growls, his thumb against your clit moved fast and his thrusts deeper within you, pushing you closer to finishing once more. You whined and clamped your legs against him as you feel yourself finish, your back arches higher than it had before, Bucky moved his flesh hand under you, pressing his palm against your lower back. 

"That's my girl" He grunts "That's my fucking girl" He thrusts hard into you with each word, his hand under your back holding you up as he fucks hard into you, he grunts loudly as you feel him spill deep within you as he growls your name. 

Both of you were breathing heavy, your eyes closed as your foreheads connect, neither of you move, other than breathing towards each others bodies. "I love you" He whispers. 

"I love you" You whisper back, Bucky slowly removes himself from you, causing you to wince, he then flops down next to you on the bed, both of you throughally fucked and exhausted. 

"Safe to say you liked my idea?" You ask with a weak giggle. 

"So much doll, now, I have a few ideas of my own" He grins, moving slightly to press a kiss to your shoulder. 

"Hmm?" You ask lazily. 

"First, we shall lie here until we can be bothered, and then I will run us a bath, we'll wash together and then perhaps a movie? Glass of wine?" He asks. 

"That sounds perfect, except for one part" You answer moving slightly to lie on your side to face him. Bucky grins and moves an arm behind you to pull you close to him, half of your body now lays on him. 

"One part?" He questions. 

"The part where we have to actually get up" You say lazily.

"Ah yes, but unfortunately, it's something we must do" He answers, he moves, keeping his arm under you, picking you up as he stands. "But I don't mind carrying you"

"That's because you're the best darling" You answer, giggling softly. 

"Let's get you to the bath" He says smirking. You smile up to him as he carries you through the house. "Yes, let's" You answer, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

[lotusbxtch]

A New Year's Distraction

Pairing: Javier Peña + f!Reader Word Count: 3.3k Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Summary: Javi doesn't realize that you've got a surprise waiting for him at home.

Tags/warnings: PWP let’s be real lol, secret established relationship, foul language, (1) suggestive note, mentions of food and alcohol, foodplay, consumption of alcohol, mention of masturbation, brief masturbation, brief sex toy usage, spitting, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up people), creampie, (1) pussy slap, Spanish nicknames and phrases, (1) use of the word 'slut' (but Reader is into it)

a/n: I saw these GIFs of Javi and @for-a-longlongtime convinced me to turn my little drabble thought into a fic. Is it after New Year’s Eve? Yes. Shhh. Pretend it’s not, for me. So here it is, unbeta’d and minimally edited. This is my first Javi P fic, so pls be gentle but also let me know how I did with writing him! Happy belated New Year to this little Tumblr community - I love you so much! (Banners by @saradika-graphics, GIF by @pedrohub) 

MAIN MASTERLIST

In any other year, you’d have been out on the town, dancing with friends and drinking cocktails while men tried to woo you for a midnight kiss. You’d drink too much, wake up hungover, and potentially with a stranger in bed.

This year, however, New Year’s Eve in Colombia looked markedly different.

Since you’d started at the embassy at the beginning of the year, helping the US track and take down narcos, the work never stopped. (Drug trafficking, it seemed, did not take note of the holidays.) You’d thrown yourself into the work, desperate to prove that you belonged here - which was already an uphill battle given your gender. Women have to work twice as hard as men in general, but here? Even more so. The machismo patriarchy wanted Columbia to chew you up, spit you out, and send you packing. You wanted - needed - this job to work out, so letting the place eat you alive wasn’t an option.

On this New Year’s Eve, partying with friends was out of the question. Recent intelligence reports needed to be analyzed, and it fell onto you this time. You sigh, rubbing your temples as you continue to leaf through and take notes in the margins. The office was relatively quiet, a couple of your coworkers waving bye to you on their way out to the bars. You check the clock - 7pm - and stretch, deciding enough is enough.

Earlier in the week, you’d planned out a little surprise for Javier Peña – DEA agent extraordinaire and the man you’d been dating secretly for months – at his place for the evening, both of you preferring to stay in this year. Plus, there was really only one man you wanted to kiss at midnight. Smiling, you grab a manila folder. You tear a page out of your field notebook, scribble a note, then stick it into the folder. Getting up from your desk, you gather your things and walk across the building to the DEA office, a mischievous smile on your lips.

In a nearly-dark conference room, Javi stands hands akimbo, poring over the various maps, satellite images, and transcriptions of tapped conversations with other members of the team. They’d been trying to make a decision with the latest batch of intelligence gathering, but as per usual, egos began to butt heads and office politics started to come into play. He runs his hand through his dark curls, frustration etched into his features as he listens numbly to the arguing going on around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you round the corner, spotting him and smiling. You’re carrying your purse and a manila folder with what he’s assuming is more intelligence reports for him to look over. Javi struggles to school his features, tamping down the desire to smirk at your arrival. Steve, of course, notices his partner’s distraction, and puts two and two together when you knock on the conference room door.

“Agent Peña?” you chirp, popping your head into the room. 

He nods at you, holding his hand out for the folder. You place it in his hand, all business. “Thanks. Are these the –” Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve already turned around, striding out the door and towards the exit. He’s a bit confused, staring at the folder in his hands.

Steve gives him a look, but continues discussing the current leads with the rest of the team. Javi places the folder to the side of the table, giving it little thought.

Two hours later, Javi is done.

The discussions had turned into arguments, and the conversation was going nowhere. An ashtray sits in the middle of the table, a smoldering cigarette in front of Javi. All he wants to do is to go home, take off his shoes and belt (god, how he hates wearing belts), loosen up his tie, and have a stiff drink.

Suddenly, he remembers your folder. Bored with the current conversation, he picks it up to skim the reports you gave him. However, the folder is far lighter than he’d expect for reports. Puzzled, he opens it to find a torn piece of lined notebook paper with a note scrawled in your handwriting. 

Going to your place for New Year’s Eve. Steaks, champagne, and me naked in your bed. See you later xoxo

Javi’s brain feels like it stops working.

He reads the note another two, three times, and then bends over, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, staring blankly ahead as the blood rushes from his head to his groin. The chatter around him fades. Unconsciously, he brings his fist to his lips as flashes of lewd images flood his mind - how you look when you strip for him; you on your hands and knees with your ass in the air, your pussy shining with slick; you on your back, thighs spread wide around his torso, eyes closed and mouth open as you moan and clench his length inside of you.

Fuck it.

His eyes flit around the room, and he realizes he just does not care about any of this right now. Javi reaches for the stumpy cigarette, taking a single drag, then drops it unceremoniously back into the ashtray, grabbing his things and leaving the table without a word.

“Peña!” Steve calls after him. “What the fuck?” But Javi doesn’t hear him, because he’s already out the door, on his way to where the throbbing between his thighs is taking him – straight to you.

You’d (correctly) assumed that Javi would be stuck in that god-awful meeting for at least another hour and a half, so you’d allowed yourself a leisurely unwinding from the day. After grabbing the steaks and champagne stashed at your apartment, you let yourself into Javi’s place, overnight bag in tow. You’d lit some candles in the living room, pre-seasoned the steaks, and then popped the cork on one of the champagne bottles. Pouring yourself a glass, you took a long soak in his tub, luxuriating in waters dosed with bath oils your mother sent you as a Christmas present. Now, soft skin toweled dry and heavenly scented, you lay bare in Javi’s bed, just as you said you would. 

Your vibrating wand hums as you tease your folds with your thighs spread, your other hand caressing the curves of your breasts. A soft moan leaves your mouth, lips parted. You smile and giggle to yourself at the thought of how worked up you likely got Javi from your little note. You knew the steaks and champagne weren’t a guarantee that he’d leave the office and come home, but you knew that the second you mentioned being naked in bed for him, he’d leap up and take off running like the Road Runner in Looney Toons. 

The door slams open and closed, and your smile turns into a predatory smirk. Showtime.

You press the wand firmer to your clit, eliciting more moans, and Javi is drawn to the bedroom like a sailor to a siren’s song. You hear his shoes being toed off, then the swish of his jacket being thrown onto the couch. His briefcase and keys hit the countertop, and then his purposeful strides get louder as he stalks down the hall to you. His broad frame appears in the doorway, shoulders taut against his dove grey button-up, his striped tie loosened and his hands occupied with rolling up his sleeves. Despite the dark color of his slacks, you can see his cock already straining at the crotch. His eyes flash onyx in the dim lighting.

“Starting without me, muñequita?” he rumbles, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. You spread yourself wider and toss the wand to the side, letting him see your shining center, slick and ready for him.

“No, baby,” you hum, propping yourself onto your elbows and pushing your bare tits out. “Just keeping myself soaked for you, just like you like me. A good girl.” 

Javi groans audibly at your display and words, an animal barely keeping it together. “What you are is a menace,” he growls, raking a hand through his hair. “Floating on by like a damn dream, waltzing out of the office without so much as a hint at the dirty fucking note you left me in that folder. I didn’t open it for two hours. And when I did, I got so hard I had to leave.”

“Then let me take care of my hard-working, handsome, brave DEA agent,” you purr. “The steaks are ready to cook, but knowing you, you want your dessert first.”

“Actually,” Javi smirks, “I’d really like some festive bubbles.” You go to reach for the second glass, yours having been refilled shortly before Javi came home, but he stops you.

“No, bebita. Lay back. I don’t need a glass for this.”

Javier grabs the champagne bottle, then slots himself over your body. You widen your legs to accommodate him, pressing your hips to meet his. 

Bracketing your head with his forearms, he commands gently, “Open.”

You open your lips obediently. He takes a swig from the bottle, then spits the bubbly wine right into your mouth. Moaning, you swallow, wetness pooling between your thighs. His gaze never leaves yours.

“Dirty girl, you liked that,” Javi teases, his eyes glittering with mischief. 

“Tastes better like that,” you husk, then pull him in for a deep kiss. His plush lips move against yours, tongues dancing, feeding off each other. His kisses intoxicate your mind.

Breaking the kiss, Javi continues to run his lips down your body, stopping briefly to suck each of your nipples into his mouth, making you shudder and gasp. He trails his tongue across your belly, gently biting your mound. Once there, he sits back on his haunches, then smiles wickedly.

“I know how to make it taste even better,” he teases. Slowly, he trickles the fizzy alcohol in a thin stream over your exposed center. A gasp is forced out of your throat, quickly turning into a moan when Javi laps it off your folds. 

Another pour, more licking from him. Your moans turn into whines, the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, Javi, that’s so hot,” you whimper. At your admission, he surges back to your face to kiss you passionately, your own tart sweetness and the headiness of the champagne swirling on your tongue from his. All too soon, he’s parting from your lips. You grumble, until he’s ducked back down between your thighs, your swollen clit gently secured between his lips before he starts to suck. His palm presses on your belly, right above your pubic bone.

“Oh god,” you whine, your release rising in your bones like the bubbles in the long-forgotten glass flute beside the bed. Javi moans into your pussy, slipping two of his fingers into your core.

“You sound so pretty, nenita,” he murmurs. “Are you gonna come on my face for me?”

“Yes, papí, fuck,” you moan, hips grinding against his talented mouth.

He curls his fingers upwards, stroking that spongy spot on your walls. “Dámelo,” your boyfriend commands, then sucks your clit hard.

You shatter for him with a stuttered scream, your release spurting on his chin and mouth. He holds down your hips as you ride out the waves of ecstasy.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls. When you relax, Javi slips his fingers from you, sucking your juices off of them. Blissed out, you watch as he begins to strip off his clothes, his golden skin and taut muscles coming into view. Now completely bare, he climbs back over you, his face still glistening from the evidence of your orgasm. He spreads your thighs apart, grabbing his dick in his hand and slapping your drenched pussy with his mushroom tip. The sounds of your wetness are obscene. 

Javi smirks like the devil himself. “Been dreaming about this sloppy little cunt all day,” he rumbles, rubbing your swollen clit teasingly with his cockhead. “Thinking about all the ways I wanted to ruin you. Not being able to touch you all day was torture.”

You snort a laugh breathily. “If only the cartels knew all it took to break you was to deny you of pussy for a few hours. You’d be singing government secrets.” 

Javi’s eyes darken for a moment, and then he slaps your slick folds, making you cry out pain and then pleasure. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, princesa,” he warns, “or I’ll fill it up so you can’t say shit to me.”

Your arousal flares. Javi knows just how rough you can take it from him.

“I’m sorry, papi,” you moan. “I promise I’ll be good for you.”

He smirks. “I know you will.” Without warning, he slides home, sheathing himself inside you with a single, devastating stroke. You both cry out brokenly at the intense sensations, his cock always a stretch for you. All you can see, feel, think about, is him.

Javi stays buried inside you, laying still while you adjust. Your velvet heat wraps around him wholly and overwhelms his senses. He has to take deep breaths to keep him from falling off the edge of his ecstasy. 

“God, you take me so well,” he grits out. “Pussy feels like heaven.” You can only breathe a whine in response, soft lips popped open as you struggle to relax your walls around him. Usually he works you open slowly, but it seems like your bratty comment triggered the feral side in him.

“Oh, pobrecita,” Javi mocks, tutting as you squirm underneath him. “Did my cock already render you speechless?” When you let out another whimper, he smirks darkly. He grips your chin between his fingers firmly, bringing your focus to his devastatingly handsome face. “C‘mon, pretty baby. Use your words.”

Your lips close and throat bobs, attempting to obey. “You feel so big in me, papí,” you rasp out, voice fucked. 

Javi chuckles. “Tight little pussy is grippin’ me so well, honey,” he teases, sending a pulse scuttling through your core. “Wanna stay buried inside you all the time.”

Soon, the sting of his cock melts into pleasure thrumming along your nerves. Your pussy weeps more slick. “Please, Javi,” you beg, feeling the arousal spread like fire through your veins. You desperately need him to move.

“When you beg so pretty, I guess I have to,” Javi smirks. He slowly pulls out, lighting up every nerve ending in your channel, then thrusts back into you quick and deep. A loud moan shakes loose from your lungs, and Javi grinds his molars when he feels you tighten around him in response. He continues this way, every devastating minute melting you further into the mattress. You scrabble your hands around his shoulders for purchase, arching your back into him when he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. Legs wrap around his waist, your cunt sucking him in as deeply as it can. Javi’s eyes scan your body, cataloguing every whimper, twitch, and breath to bring you to climax as fast as possible. 

“Is this what you needed, bebita?” Javi asks. You clench around him and nod rapidly, breath coming in pants. “‘Cause it sure as hell is what I needed.”

He bares his teeth as he picks up his pace, stroking your messy pussy harder and deeper. “You’re so fucking wet for me. I wanna feel your little pussy pulse around me when you come,” he groans, and you let out a reedy whine in response. He grabs your hips and tilts them, changing the angle he’s fucking into you, and your entire body lights up. 

“That’s it, baby, c’mon,” Javi begs, “Come for me. Show me how hard I can make you come.”

When he asks so nicely like that, your body simply can’t refuse.

The waves of pleasure gather behind your belly button and explode outwards as you scream his name, your legs shaking and cunt fluttering around him. Javi moans at your release, biting into your shoulder to keep from coming. When you begin to relax, he pulls out of you, a protesting groan dribbling out from your lips until he flips you back on all fours.

Javi lifts your hips in the air, your chest pressed to the mattress, and lines himself up at your entrance. “I’m not done with you yet,” he informs you, smoke edging his voice, and he sinks into you again. You let out a surprised but thrilled moan, as this is your favorite way to take him.

“My pretty slut wants to be railed from behind, hmm?” Javi teases, his movements fluid and confident. Sliding his hand down your arm, he sucks two of your fingers into his mouth before placing your hand between your thighs, right where he’s splitting you open. 

“Rub that pretty little clit for me, sweetheart,” he orders, and all you can do is moan and comply. Javi grabs your hips, his blunt nails leaving tiny crescent moon indentations in your supple skin, reminders of how insatiable he is for your body. Small droplets of his sweat scatter across your back. Your drenched folds squelch lewdly as he plays your body like the finest orchestral instrument, knowing exactly how to elicit those gorgeous sounds from your lips. Your fingers swirl around your swollen pearl, spiraling you higher and higher towards your orgasm. You love feeling him like this, as if he’s in your throat, filling every single empty space within your body.

Your thighs begin to twitch and shake, and Javi knows you’re close. He braces against your shoulder for leverage with one hand, and lands a hard slap across your backside with his other while he bounces your body against his cock. Your moans have turned to wails, a desperate whining edge to them. 

“Fuck, papi,” you keen, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeeee.” Javi ratchets his movements up another level, pounding into you earnestly, his own release coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck this cunt, it’s yours,” you beg, and your filthy mouth in the throes of passion may send him to an early grave, albeit with his dick wet.

“You gonna come again for papi?” he asks rhetorically. Your head bobs vigorously, your fingers a blur between your thighs. He’s barely holding on, seconds from exploding.

A stream of pornographic whimpers leaves your lips. As they get higher in pitch, your cunt squeezes his shaft tighter, and now he’s moaning unabashedly. 

“Oh, fuck, Javi, I’m coming” you manage to moan before you scream into the bedding, shattering, pussy clamping down on his cock. He whimpers loudly, burying himself, and unloads rope after rope of thick cum inside of you. Shaking with each twitch of his cock, he leans forward to blanket you with his body. Javi gently rolls the both of you to your sides, remaining inside of you. The air settles with only your and Javi’s heavy breathing echoing in the room.

Once you catch your breath, a smile breaks out across your face. You press kisses to Javi’s forearms. “This is the best New Year’s Eve celebration I’ve had yet,” you muse, leaning your head back against Javi’s strong chest.

He huffs a laugh, then pulls out of you gently with a quiet groan, the warm trickle of his cum from your wrecked pussy following shortly. He turns you to face him, his hands framing your jawline, and he softly sponges his lips to your forehead, running his nose down the bridge of yours before kissing it. “Night’s not over yet, nena. I believe you mentioned some steaks?” 

Giggling, you nod affirmatively. “Great,” he continues, kissing along your neck, “because once we’re done enjoying those, I’m gonna enjoy you all over again. It is my full intention to have you literally coming straight through the new year.” 

The answering grin on your lips is so bright, it could rival the Times Square New Year’s Ball drop. “Well, happy new year to us, then, Agent Peña.”

Tagging those who I thought might like some Javi P smut:

@mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @joelmillerisapunk @arcanefox207

@mermaidgirl30 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry

@yxtkiwiyxt @almostfoxglove @almostempty @swankyorange @alltheglitterandtheroar

@yorksgirl @pedropeach @pedrospatch @jolapeno @max--phillips

@baronessvonglitter @puddles221b @evolnoomym @slimybeth69 @perotovar

@penvisions @indiegirlunited @eupheme @heareball @reggiesfilthylittlesecret

[after-the-end-times]

Eddie's Never Been Chill a Day in his Life

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Chill 🥶 Rating: G 🥶Words: 793 🥶 cw: none 🥶 Tags: Established Relationship, Corroded Coffin doesn't understand, Eddie has no chill, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson

“Oh, will you chill? It's not a big deal”

“Chill? Chill?! Ha!”

Eddie strikes a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip, finger on his lips and, despite the smile spreading across his face, his eyes are wide and angry staring down his friends.

“No, I don't think I will chill! Because I tell you, my best friends, my band, my comrades in arms, that I, Eddie Munson, have finally got myself a boyfriend and you, what? Say I can do better? Tell me you don't like him?!”

Eddie throws his head back laughing.

Gareth looks at Jeff who looks at Freak. They sometimes forget how scary Eddie can be when he turns his dramatics up to 10.

Which means it’s even more creepy in the quiet after Eddie’s laughter cuts off. A car door slams on the other side of the garage door. Jeff’s mom probably getting home from work.

“Dude, we just mean he isn't really- You know.”

“What? He isn't the best thing to happen to me? He isn't the kindest, sweetest, most self sacrificing man that I’ve ever met? Because guess what guys! He is. He's all that and more. He's funny and sarcastic and goofy and so so smart!”

“Eddie, he's a jock! You've always said-”

“And I was wrong! Ok!?” He blows out a harsh breath, continuing calmer “I was wrong and I judged without knowing. So what if he likes sports? He has hobbies and interests. Isn't that a good thing? Or would you rather I be with someone boring? Someone who thinks and acts just like me? So we can just sit there and stare at each other, because we have all the same opinions about everything? 'Cause, actually, I think I like it better this way.”

“Ok, ok we get it. You like him." Gareth huffs out a laugh.

Jeff adds with a chuckle. "Guess even you couldn't resist a pretty face, huh?”

Eddie scoffs. They just don't get it.

“Of course he's breathtaking. But he's all the more beautiful because of who he is inside. Don’t you get it yet? He has a gaggle of children who he loves and would do anything for. He has a best friend who he would literally get tortured for to spare her any hurt. He's even friends with his ex and the guy she cheated on him with! He's just so kind and forgiving, and yes it’s sometimes more than I'd want him to be, but that's- He's just so- I just- I love him.” He looks at them with wide pleading eyes. “Ok, guys? I love him and he's gonna be mine for as long as I can keep him. So, you guys just need to get with it, I guess.”

Eddie runs out of steam after that and crosses his arms protectively across his chest. He's still building his strength back up and he's been gesturing wildly for his whole rant.

The door on the side of the garage opens and Steve steps inside, shivering. The tip of his nose and ears are nipped pink from the cold, his hands are red and slightly trembling; he’s clearly been out there longer than it takes to run from the car to the garage.

“Steve.” Eddie breaths out and walks over to take his hands in his. He cups them and brings them up to his mouth, warming the frozen finger tips with his breath.

Steve’s gaze, so wide and hope filled, has been locked on Eddie since he came in.

“Do you really?” He finally asks, in a low voice just for them.

Eddie flicks his eyes up to meet Steve’s. For a fraction of a second he considers asking what he’s talking about, maybe playing off the moment with a joke, but no. Steve deserves to know. And he wants Steve to know.

“Steve,” He kisses the finger tips at his lips, still so cold, but finally warming. “I love you.”

“Eddie.” Steve’s shaking, though whether it’s still from the cold or from the force of his emotions, Eddie’s not sure. Either way, he suddenly has an armful of a Steve Harrington who is laughing so joyously, like it’s the only way he can release the amount of happiness that has suddenly over taken him. He gasps in a breath. “I love you, too, Eddie. Oh my god, I love you so much.”

Eddie pulls back grinning, he needs to see him right now, needs to see the joy he’s put on Steve’s face just by loving him.

Oh, Steve is glowing.

And in that moment, Eddie knows, without a singular doubt, he’s going to spend the rest of his life making Steve glow with happiness.

And they’re going to have a beautiful life.

~Fin~