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witchywithwhiskey · 7 months ago

Text

this time of year

pairing: friend!steve rogers x female reader

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

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

word count: 11.9k

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

december daze challenge masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Steve, c’mere!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not—”

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he had. Oh how he had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunshine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get a room!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve laughed huskily in your ear.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another anguished sound wrenched free from Steve’s lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His filthy words were your undoing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

december daze challenge masterlist

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

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societyfolklore · 6 months ago

Text

Stay Still

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

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

Word Count: 2.2K

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

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

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

The mistletoe seemed to be… following you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So this whole mistletoe thing…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel like silk sweetheart..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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blackbat05 · 4 months ago

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Fateful Encounters

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: After a hard week at the library, you meet an enigmatic stranger with the help of your beloved dog. During TFATWS timeline.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: And I’m going to watch him on big screen today?!!!?Was in a funk so really glad I got this out! This is a complete rewrite to (Mixup) So excited to see him on Big Screen too after writing for him for so long! Enjoy!!! Tag: @the-slumberparty for 2025 challenge!

“Thanks for today!” You call out to Sophie who urges you to get out of the library and enjoy the weekend.

“Hey! Thanks for bringing Bubbles! They really loved her at the session today.” Sophie bends down to give my lovely Goldie, Bubbles a head pat. “You did such a good job!” She addresses the joyful pooch who gives a bark of acknowledgement.

You bid Sophie goodbye and lead Bubbles out into the cold evening of New York for a hearty dinner and another job well done for the week at the library.

“Well done girl! Where shall we go?” You ask Bubbles who gives a tug on her leash, leading you down the familiar path to both your favourite cafe near the library. “Of course, why did I even ask.” You smiled.

The cafe that you frequented when you first arrived in the bustling city was starting to become crowded on a Friday evening. Family and friends gathered to enjoy the start of a weekend. Bubbles obediently waits in line as you ordered a chicken rice bowl for yourself and a specially curated shredded chicken and pepperoni pizza for Bubbles who is almost pulling you the other direction the moment you finished payment.

“Girl! Slow down. There’s still seats.” You were confused at her sudden excitement at something. You follow her line of sight only to see a lone man gazing out of the window, lost in thought. Bubbles continues to drag you towards the said man, much to your horror.

“Bubbles! No! There’s other seats! We��re not disturbing the poor man!” You hissed under your breath. Unfortunately, it falls on deaf ears as Bubbles only becomes stronger. “Bubbles! Oh- hi!”

You quickly revert to what you assume is a calm and composed version of yourself when internally, you’re freaking out. For a very good reason.

The man was gorgeous. As in, breathtakingly gorgeous. Donning a black leather jacket, you were mesmerized by his hazel coloured eyes that just sucked you in with each passing minute. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, his soft lips catching your attention…

Bubbles nudges you hardly on the shin and you snap out of your lovesick induced haze. It is then that you notice that the man’s right eye is recovering from a bad bruise. You’re left to wonder what was the story behind that but you quickly pull yourself together because this is not the time to be ogling at the man like he’s an animal at the zoo. You certainly didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not sure why Bubbles is acting this way.” You apologized. “We’ll just find a seat and be on our way.” You try to tug on Bubble’s leash without much success. Bless the man, he doesn’t seem bothered at all by your sudden appearance. In fact, he offers you the seat across from him. “It’s getting crowded, please.”

You thank him and quickly settle down across him. Bubbles takes no time in trotting over to her new found friend, resting her snout on his lap. “She likes you.” You observed. The man gives Bubbles a rub, much to her delight. “She never warms up to anyone that quickly before.”

“Well then, I must be a very lucky person.” He cracks a small smile before introducing himself. “Where are my manners? My name is Joaquin Torres.” Joaquin offers a handshake.

“Y/N L/N. We just came from the public library down the street.”

For the next few minutes, you fall into easy conversation about your job as a library assistant at the children’s section. You were absolutely out of luck when you were trying to search for a job fresh out of university. Although you could have gone into the corporate world and land a cushy job, you never felt that it was right for you to begin with. Your true passion lied with books and connecting with people about them. So one day, when you were absolutely tired of having to spend the whole day in front of a computer sending out resumes after resumes, you decided to head to the public library for a much needed escape.

“And lucky me, I saw the advert for the job. So here I am.” You beam inwardly at the memory. It was incredible really, how far you’ve come since then. “That’s enough about me, I would like to know more about you.” You say sincerely.

Joaquin fiddles with his teaspoon and you wonder if you’ve crossed the line. You start to open your mouth to apologize but it’s as if he can read your mind. “It’s only fair.” He brushes away your apology reassures that you’re not forcing him.

“I used to be in the military, Air Force.” Joaquin tells you. “It was the best time of my life. But seeing people die, that chipped away at my soul.” A moment of silence passes, perhaps for the lives that were lost.

“This?” He points to his bruise. “I got it while on a mission in Europe. I was there for surveillance, but innocent civilians died on my watch by a group of terrorists claiming that they were making the world better.” Joaquin tells me bitterly. Bubbles gets up and presses her body against Joaquin’s legs, as if she could sense the agitation radiating from him. He looks down and gives her another rub of thanks.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to go through something so horrific. Thank you for telling me.”

“It was actually something that I needed to do actually.” Joaquin confesses. “My Captain encouraged me to get therapy but it didn’t sit right with me.” He laughs at the thought. “I should thank you for sharing as well. It mustn’t have been easy, how you got here today.”

You were oddly pleased at Joaquin’s compliment. You knew that already, but having someone like Joaquin to acknowledge your struggles made you feel a connection with him.

As the customers continued to stream in and out of the cafe, you sat across the charming stranger-now-turned friend, sharing experiences living in the bustling Big Apple.

Bubbles whine, signaling that she was started to feel cooped out under the table. “Oh, I think that’s my signal.” You carefully eased the dog under the table. “Thank you for the company and conversation. I really needed that.”

“Same here. Take care.”

You stepped out into the chilly evening, heading back in the direction of your apartment. As you arrived back home, you let out a gasp of realization, causing Bubbles to be alarmed.

“Oh no! I forgot to ask him his number!” You groaned. Joaquin was a genuinely nice guy - a rare one these days. A rare one that you carelessly let out of your grasp like a slippery fish.

Hitting your head on the back of the sofa, you turned to Bubbles. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be huh girl?”

Bubbles let’s out a bark, bringing your backpack that you take to work everyday. Confused, you open up the bag, figuring that Bubbles wants to play with her blue plastic ball. Not that you were in a mood to play anyways. But dogs didn’t know that.

As you were about to throw the ball for Bubbles to fetch, she let’s out another bark. It is then you realized that there’s a white piece of paper sticking out of the ball’s cap. Unscrewing it open, a piece of paper that was ripped out from the order sheet at the cafe falls out. Opening it, you find a signature with a couple of words inside:

“Hey Y/N, I had a really great time talking to you. I know it sounds bonkers but I think I’ve hit it off with you and I don’t want this to be our only time. I don’t want to be a weirdo (or stalker) so this is my number. Call me when you’re ready.”

You hold the piece of paper in your hands, smiling from ear to ear. Perhaps you look a little deranged but the idea of Joaquin feeling the same way that you did was a god send. It really was a no brainer as to what you were going to do next.

Taking a deep breath, you dial his number that was given and hit the camera function while praying for the best.

After three rings, Joaquin picks up, his boyish features lighting up at the sight of you. Needless to say, it made you feel incredible. “I was praying that it wasn’t an unsuspecting old lady.” You crack a joke that earns a hearty laughter from the man.

“I’m glad you called.”

“So did I.”

Joaquin grins at your confession. “So… are you doing anything next weekend? I was thinking I could take you and Bubbles to this famous steak place.” It was adorable to see Joaquin nervous as he waits for your response. Joaquin must have sensed the cogs in your brain turning so he quickly adds, “I swear I’m not weird or anything. It’s just that I really liked talking to you that day and Bubbles! But if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“Joaquin!” You get his attention to stop him from rambling further.

“Yeah?”

“I was going to say yes either way.”

Joaquin blinks, slowly registering your words. “Great! That’s great! Um, bring Bubbles too! I want to see her again.”

You glance down at your beloved pooch who is wagging her tail at Joaquin’s voice.

“Oh she will. She’s definitely excited to see you too.” You laugh and pause for a moment, unsure if it’s too fast to say this. But hey, life is fleeting as it comes. So screw it.

“I’m excited to see you as well.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #captain america: brave new world #danny ramirez #navy and roo's sleepover

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

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You'll Be Home For Christmas

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

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

Summary: You agree to do a favour for your coworker but it might be more than you can handle.

Character: Clark Kent

Day Nineeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - fake dating becomes too real.

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

"I know it sounds weird, but, my mom's getting up there..." Clark looks away as he pokes his tongue into his cheek.

You're not sure how he does it. How someone like him can make himself look pathetic. He's a big man. Mountainous really. He dwarfs just about everybody in the office. Even the desks look tiny next to him. And the chisel of his face is so sharp yet in that moment, he looks heart-wrenchingly soft.

"It's just you two this year?" You ask.

"Um, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck then drags his hand around and down his chest. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. "Look, I know I can be nosy but I overheard you and Maggie. You said you don't have any plans this year--" He cringes and leans forward, putting his elbows to the desk as he covers his face then peeks out between his fingers. "It's a dumb idea."

"It seems like you're pretty stressed," you fold your hands behind you. You don't want to agree with his last statement and make him feel worse.

"Yeah, after Lois..." he shakes his head, "my mom's convinced I'm going to be alone forever and she keeps telling me how old she's getting. Says she wants to live long enough to see me happy."

"Wow, sounds worse than my mom," you kid but quickly deflate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make light."

"No, it's ridiculous," he heaves and drops his eyes. "I've asked two of my neighbours, I asked my mail lady, and oh, yeah, the girl who made my coffee today. I'm all out of shame."

"Can I think about it?" You ask. You know you're going to say no, but you don't want to do it right away.

He perks up and his blue eyes flick to meet yours. His brows rise hopefully and he rolls forward in his chair, "really?"

"I didn't say yes."

"But you're the first person not to say no," he smiles.

Oof, there it is. You've always had a hard time in situations like these. You're a people pleaser in the worst way.

"Anyway, I should get back to work," you say.

"When-- when will you know?" He asks.

You hesitate.

"End of today?" He suggests.

You nod. Alright. You just need to get out of there before you cave to that puppy dog sparkle in his eyes. A man who looks like that shouldn't be able to make himself so pitiful.

✨

You don’t know why you said yes. You really were going to say no but when Clark came back to check in, you weren’t prepared. So absorbed in your work, that you forgot about the odd request.

So here you are, right beside him, wound as tight as a spring as you try not to show it. It’s not how you imagined spending Christmas. When your typical traditional obligation felt through, you were almost relieved. Now that dread has returned but in a new flavour. Meeting someone else’s family is somehow more intimidating than your mother’s judgement.

Clark’s own anxiety pales in his knuckles as he drives silently. Only the radio provides some softness in the tension between you. It’s always strange to spend time with coworkers outside the office and now you’re jumping headfirst into their most personal facet.

You fidget in your seat and let your eyes blur out the window. You didn’t expect his mom to live this far, yet you should have. He’d mentioned before he grew up on a farm. It must have been nice in a way, peaceful, out where you can’t hear the city honking and hollering.

The snow thickens as you get further into the country. His large truck doesn’t falter as he steers cautiously through snowed over tire tracks. Would the plow even get this far out here? If it did, you don’t imagine it would come very often.

Your mind latches onto those random things to avoid the obvious. You’ve always been this way. Instead of worrying about your mother lecturing you about your stagnant work situation, you’re usually more concerned with how your hair lays or if she’s going to the like that bottle of wine you spent too much money on for her.

“Thanks again,” Clark’s baritone rolls over you like thunder. “Really. I know it’s... strange. I’m just not ready to date again but... my mom...”

“Trust me. I get it. My mom can be... a lot,” you chuckle, though it’s really not that funny.

“Oh yeah? I didn’t want to be nosy, but...”

“Right, uh, you know, my brother asked if we could have dinner on Christmas Eve instead and the rest of us agreed. She insisted that Christmas Eve isn’t Christmas...” Your heart picks up with the anxiety you bury deep down. “Well, she cancelled Christmas since no one agreed with her.”

“Wow, really?”

“Uh, yep,” you can’t look at him. It’s embarrassing. It’s like when your mother dumped your birthday cake in the garbage because you pointed out you were 13 not 12 that year. Or when she walked out of your graduation because your grandmother wouldn’t switch seats. “It’s whatever. Family, right?”

“I guess,” he says. “My parents always loved holidays too. Especially when dad was around.”

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you murmur.

“Don’t be. Sorry if it seems like I keep bringing that up,” he sniffs.

You look ahead to the sole structure as it looms closer and closer. A farmhouse that comes clearer through the drift of flakes, and a barn like a shadow near its rear corner. It’s like one of those classic festive paintings printed on an advent calendar or some 1950s domestic dream.

He pulls up to the house and shifts in his seat. Concern needles in his cheek as he squints over the steering wheel. He wrenches the shifter into park and kills the engine. You sit futilely and let him take the lead.

“Lights are off,” he mutters.

You nod, unsure what to say. Is something wrong?

He gets out and you watch the snow dust into his dark hair and across his broad shoulders. He is unfettered by the deep snow. You zip up your coat and turn to your door. You push it open and look out into the perilous carpet.

Clark surprises you as he comes around. “Here,” he puts his arms out, “it’s deep.”

You grab his hand and his other goes to your waist. He as good as lifts you and sets you down in the path he’s stomped through the piles. You thank him and awkwardly detach. He shuts the door and moves around you closely.

He leads the way to the porch so you can walk through his footsteps. Your lashes catch the snow as you look up at the grey sky. You don’t think you’ll make it home that night. Shoot.

Clark kicks off his boots as he digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out some keys. He unlocks the door and gestures you in ahead of him. You try to clear off your treads before you enter. He reaches around the frame to flip on the light.

He crowds you as he enters. You try not to step off the mat and make a mess of the floor. You slip free of your Adidas, not the best choice for the weather, and shuffle aside. He hangs his jackets and combs his fingers through his hair to clear the flakes out. The dark strands glisten with the moisture.

“Give me your coat,” he reaches for you.

“Oh, yeah,” you unzip your jacket and hand it over. It isn’t exactly climate appropriate either. You’ve been meaning to invest in winter gear. A lot of times your intentions are only ever that. “Thanks.”

“Quiet...” he mulls as his eyes skim the ceiling and he hooks your jacket on the rack.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Ma’s probably laying down,” he utters with a hint of concern. “I’m gonna go check and see what’s going on.”

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.”

“No worries. She stays up all night reading,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Right, er, okay.”

You back up as he passes you. He heads upstairs and you slowly pivot to take in the interior. The pale wood is marked with knots which give it an even more rustic atmosphere and the decor is simple but in a quaintly traditional way. The details etched into the slender drawer of a side table or the dainty trim of the area rug give a lived-in effect.

You tiptoe into the front room and hug yourself as you feel a draught whisper in around the window. You find the light switch and flip it on to cast more light across the neatly arranged furniture. There's an old-fashioned iron firestove in the middle of the room, the flue built up to the ceiling.

You can hear Clark moving around above. The rest of the house is silent. You look at the old grandfather clock standing against the wall. It’s just after eleven in the morning.

You turn as the stairs creak. Clark appears in the doorway with a sober expression. “Mom’s just waking up. It might be a while. She... she’s having a tough day.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she sick?”

“She is and she isn’t. Just getting older, you know? Ever since she broke her hip last year, she’s been a bit slower,” he explains.

“Oh, gosh, Clark,” you say. “Is there anything I can do to help? You said she was planning on dinner but I can get all that started for her.”

“Sure, she usually thaws the turkey in the sink overnight,” he says. “We should probably start there.”

“Right,” you chew your lip.

“It’s nice of you to offer but if it’s too much--”

“No, no! It’s cool. I’ve just never stuffed a turkey on my own,” you say. “I was always just an observer.”

Your mother never believed anything was done right unless she did it herself. Then she’d complain about having to do it.

“I can help,” he offers.

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I think she might appreciate the help, huh?”

He smiles but doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stares. He clears his throat and nods at last, “she would—will.”

“Show me where it all is,” you show your palms, not wanting to presume too much.

He beckons you after him as he leads you through the doorway perpendicular to the one you came through. He turns on another light. This place feels desolate with them off.

“So uh...” he begins as he goes to the counter and peeks in the sink, “yep, turkey’s in here.”

“Great, hopefully it’s dethawed,” you say. “Alright, do you mind if I poke around?”

“It’s all yours. I’ll try to help but gotta be honest, as a kid, I was out in the field,” he stands back to watch you.

“Right,” you come forward to look the turkey over. Good thing is it won’t need extra time due to being half-frozen.

“Hum... do you know if your mother does stuffing from scratch or a box?” You turn back to him.

“Scratch, probably,” he shrugs.

“Cool, uh, I need bread,” you declare. It’s almost nice being in charge. A very new but refreshing feeling.

✨

The smell of turkey wafts from the stove as you work at the other fixings. You follow the list on the fridge. The paper is a bit yellowed but you can read it nonetheless. At least Clark’s mother is a planner. Although a few of her ingredients are a bit... aged. Nothing you can’t use but the spices have a little extra dust on the caps.

Clark appears again. He’s been pacing in and out, helping where he can, but he seems too restless to focus. You tap pause on your phone to stop the music. You don’t get any signal out here but you have a bunch downloaded. It helps ease the silence that thickens with the fall of snow.

“So, how’s mom? She doing okay?” You ask.

“Mom?” He hesitates, “yeah, she’s getting there. Sorry about this. I know the whole reason you did this was to make her happy. For me. I just didn’t expect--” He blows out a heavy breath and leans on the counter. “It’s hard when you get older and everyone you love starts to leave. Or change.”

Your heart flickers. You try not to frown too deep, “I’m sorry, Clark.” You look back down at the bowl of soaking cranberries. You take your family for granted. The might be a little toxic but they’re there.

“Not your fault. I just... I thought I had it figured out with Lois. Everyone was happy and my mom was ecstatic,” he clutches his hands together. You meet his eyes sheepishly. “I just wanted her to be that way again. And you’re so sweet and nice.”

“Aw, Clark. Well, you know, I should thank you. At least I’m not alone on Christmas,” you try to pep yourself up. “Um, I gotta wait for these cranberries a little long. Could I use the bathroom?”

“Right, er, it’s just down the hall,” he points towards the second doorway that interconnects with the same hallway that leads back to the stairs.

“Thanks,” you wipe your hands on a dishcloth and leave him with a thin smile.

As you flit out, your chest sinks. You think of everything you’ve said since you got there, how insensitive it must have seemed. And back in the car when you complained about your mom. Ugh, he must think you’re so ungrateful.

You close yourself in the bathroom and tend to your business. You’d been holding it since he picked you up from your building. You wash your hands, pumping the soap bottle hard to dislodge a clog in the tube. You finally finish up but find the smell of mildew stuck to your hands from the towel.

You come out of the bathroom and look up and down the hallway. You shift to see the framed picture a bit better. Those must be his parents, and little Clark. You can’t believe he was ever that small.

There are other pictures across the table below. A cluster of frames; class photos, impromptu snaps of memories, and posed family shots. Beneath one, there’s a slip of paper. You try not to be intrusive but the fading font catches your eye. You lean in as you tilt the frame to see the full letter, the card bent and forgotten beneath.

‘Our condolences. We were so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. Please do let us anything we can do for you.’ The message is signed Mallory and Chuck. You blink in confusion. Maybe it’s an old card meant for his mother; for a grandparent.

“She died last year,” Clark startles you so you whip up and nearly tip as you stand straight. “It’s my first Christmas without her,” he continues. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t want to be alone.”

You shake your head. Confusion swells through your stomach and clouds your brain. The fog clears and your eyes wander up to the ceiling.

“Your mom?”

“I miss her,” his voice cracks. “She took care of me.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” you quaver unevenly. You’re reeling. Why would he lie about that? And to get you here? You’re just coworkers. “That must be hard.”

“Mhm,” he nods and pouts. As he comes closer, you tense, wavering with his steps. “You’re not mad at me?”

Your lips part then close. The wind whistles outside and reminds you of how isolated this place is. Clark drove you here...

“I’m just... wondering why you need to lie,” you eke out.

“I know it’s wrong but... if I told the truth, you might say no.”

You nod and as he reaches for you, you wince away. You hug yourself and push your shoulders up. You swallow, “Clark, what is the truth? Why am I here?”

He tilts his head and his eyes drift to the side. The light fades in his pupils and his jaw clenches. His fingers twiddle by his leg.

“To be with me,” he looks at you again and smiles. A smile shadowed sinisterly beneath the worn bulb above. “You’re alone too.”

You stare at him. Terror floods your veins and paralyses you. You want to turn and run but you won’t get far. All you can do is bide your time and hope that you can find a chance and way to get out. But for now, with him so close, so much bigger, you have to pretend. That is exactly what he asked you to do, after all.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #december daze #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #dcu #dc #navy and roo's sleepover

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drabblesandsnippets · 7 months ago

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Imagine... (‘here, take my jacket’)

Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

December Daze Challenge - Day 1 - @the-slumberparty

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

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

Imagine... Masterlist | Day 2

Banners by @cafekitsune - Divider by @saradika-graphics

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lillywillow · 1 year ago

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Blind Double Date

Summary: Your friend Foggy sets you up with his best friend Matt

Written for: @the-slumberparty

Words: 1246

Square Filled: G4- Set Up by Friends

Pairing: Matt Murdoch x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Ever since you first step foot in your Thursday night cooking class, you and Foggy Nelson had been pretty much inseparable. He was funny, really good to talk to and offered great advice if you had a problem. In short, Foggy was like a brother to you. In turn, Foggy had come to see you as a kind of sister. You also both often spoke about your love-lives. Foggy became protective when he heard of guys harassing you and you gave him advice on women.

…

Another Thursday night rolled around and you arrived at your usual spot, waving Foggy over as soon as he walked in.

“Hey, Y/N! How was your date last Friday?” Foggy asked, taking his place next to you.

“Not bad. Not great, but not bad,” you sighed.

“Yeah?”

“He was an okay guy, it’s just… I don’t know. Maybe my romance button is broken or needs resetting or something…” you shrugged, looking over this week’s recipe.

Foggy laughed and looked it over too.

“For what it’s worth, I get what you’re saying. My date last weekend wasn’t all that great either.”

As you started preparing your ingredients, you and Foggy lamented over your failed dates and complained about the state of your romantic lives. Sure, you could cut out the middleman and just date each other but you decided it might get awkward if things went wrong and you still had to come to this class every week. Also, you had become such great friends, the last thing you wanted to do was lose what you had.

“How about we set each other up with dates?” you suggested.

“Sounds good to me… got someone in mind?” he asked, turning down the heat on the cooking appliance.

“You know my friend Gracie?” you prompted, adding your ingredients to the mix.

“Is that the same Gracie that was caught topless sunbathing at what she thought was a nude beach?” he questioned.

“That’s the one,” you grinned.

During your time together, you had told Foggy many stories about your friend Gracie and her various antics.

“Heck yeah! Set that up!” he grinned back.

“What about you? Got someone in mind for me?”

“Sure do. You remember my friend Matt?”

“That’s your law firm partner, right?” you asked.

Foggy often spoke very highly of Matt, and had said a lot about him.

“Yep. How about him?” Foggy suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled.

“Great! So, I’ll set you up with Matt and you’ll set me up with Gracie.”

As you continued your cooking class, the pair of you discussed the best time for your blind double date.

…

The next night, you and Gracie went to the restaurant that you and Foggy agreed upon at the agreed time. Your friend asked you all sorts of questions while you waited for the two males to arrive.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Foggy with another man standing behind him. The man was brunette with a little stubble and wearing red glasses. You thought he was quite handsome. Introductions were exchanged and the four of you sat down. From that first moment, Gracie and Foggy made an instant connection, chatting away about this and that but for you and Matt, things were a little different. Connecting with other adults never came easy to you and you had the feeling Matt was a little guarded.

“So, Y/N, Foggy tells me you’re a teacher,” he began, trying to strike up a conversation.

“That’s right. I mostly work with underprivileged kids and those that the school has more or less given up on. I can see these kids trying so hard but so many people have turned their backs on them because they can’t be bothered. I want to show them that there’s someone out there who does care…”

Matt smiled warmly.

“I know what you mean. Foggy and I take on cases for people that society have given up on. It’s like they think the problem will go away on its own rather than deal with it before it gets to breaking point.”

“Exactly!”

With the ice broken, you felt a little more at ease. For you, that was one of the more difficult parts of being set up with a complete stranger; making small talk until you found that connection. The pair of you continued discussing the similarities between your jobs while Foggy and Gracie continued to get along. So well along that they decided to ditch the pair of you to get a room. Feeling a little abandoned by your friend, you started feeling that uneasiness again.

“I get the feeling you want to go home?” Matt asked, picking up on something you were putting out there.

“It’s not that… It’s just… Every time I go on a date lately, I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m not giving the guys a long enough chance. I mean, how well can you get to know a person over one dinner?”

Matt was silent for a few minutes.

“How about this… we go for a walk, spend a little more time with each other. If at the end of it, you don’t feel anything, you tell me to buzz off, no harm done…” You laughed a little at that. “But if you feel sparks… we can see where this goes,” he suggested.

“I’d really like that…”

…

After paying for your meals, you headed down the street. You held onto Matt’s arm partly as a guide, partly because it made you feel safe. As you walked, you got through all those basic “Getting to know you” questions that were common on a first date but not one did you feel awkward. At one point, you stopped to get some frozen yoghurt from a nice little shop nearby. You read the flavours out to Matt so he could make a decision and described the interior of the shop to him while you sat and ate. When you were finished, Matt walked you to your door.

“So… here we are… What’s the verdict?” Matt grinned.

“Hm, I don’t know… usually the goodnight kiss makes the final cut,” you playfully teased.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Smiling, you gently pressed your lips to his. Matt’s hands made their way to your cheeks, his thumbs stroking your skin. This is what you had built up in your head; a great date ending with the perfect kiss. His hands didn’t roam, his breath was fresh and you could feel butterflies in your stomach. This is everything you were looking for. As you pulled away, you had a dreamy smile on your face.

“So… is this the part you tell me to buzz off?”

You laughed and playfully punched his chest.

“No. That… that was a really good kiss,” you breathed.

“Do you want to see where this goes?” he asked.

“I do, Matt… I really do…”

After saying your goodbyes, Matt waited to make sure you were safe inside before heading off.

…

The following Thursday, you and Foggy celebrated over your successful dates for the night as you started cooking. Neither of you could believe your luck that you both walked away from what could have been awkward blind dates with potential new relationships. You couldn’t wait to see where they would lead you.

#navy and roo's sleepover #navy and roo sleepover #marvel #marvel one shot #matt murdock x reader #Set up by Friends #Blind Double Date #Blind Date #foggy nelson #matt murdock

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alicewonderao3 · 2 years ago

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Mutual Pining

Title: Mutual Pining

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Spencer Reid, fem!original character.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!original character

Warnings: None, fluffy. Use of fem!character, mentions of violence typical for criminal minds, Aaron has a nickname for her.

Summary: She's been pining after her gorgeous boss for a while now, and is unwilling to believe the older man might possibly return her feelings. What happens when she gets injured on a case, and he proves her wrong?

Authors note: So this is something I've had in my drafts for a long time now. I started writing it and just never had the motivation to finish it until today. I didn't realize I used one of the prompts for @the-slumberparty's naughty or nice challenge until after I'd edited the piece, so I'm submitting it at as well. I'm rewatching Criminal minds and working on a piece out of my wheelhouse, a soft!dark Aaron Hotchner. It's gonna be good. As always, I have no beta, and if I missed any warnings or tags, let me know, and all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,553

Life can be cruel sometimes. It can be downright nasty, but right now, I can't help but curse life with all my being. I'm working at my desk, and I'm supposed to be studying crime scene photos and helping form the profile so we can catch this latest in a long line of bad, bad men, but I can't. How can I be expected to focus when Aaron's just standing over there, talking with Rossi about something, I'm not sure what, looking as gorgeous as he is?

It's a shame. I sigh, returning to my work when I see Rossi's eyes catch mine, watching me admire Aaron, and my cheeks flush and I duck my head, my dark curls hiding my face as I examine the crime scene photos with a sudden interest. The two walk by my desk, but say nothing. Rossi is the only one in the office who knows of my crush on Aaron, revealed one night when I arrived early at his house for a team dinner.

He's the only one who knows how much I like him, and admire him. He's told me to make my move several times, but it's hard. I don't know if Aaron even likes me in that way, let alone if he even notices me. Sometimes he tends to look right through people, with that single-minded determination he's got.

It's easy to like Aaron Hotchner. So easy. The man is gorgeous, and tall, with dark brown eyes and hair that is never out of place. And don't get me started on the suits he wears. They fit his muscled frame beautifully, and the man has no idea the effect he has on me by simply walking in. But it's not just looks. Aaron's funny, intelligent, and incredibly sweet.

There is a lot hidden under that cool reserve he has, that mask he uses to keep the world out. He keeps people at arm's length and has ever since Haley died. He keeps Jack close to him, and I can't help but adore the little boy. After his dad, I'm his obvious favorite, and he loves hanging with me at my desk. I keep a special drawer in my desk just for Jack, full of dinosaurs and his favorite snacks, plenty of crayons and coloring sheets, and books.

I sigh again, glancing down at the crime scene photos with a wince. I should be working, not here daydreaming about my older, but attractive boss, but he doesn't make it easy for me. Lucky for me, he's also completely oblivious to my feelings. Or how women view him in general. He hasn't dated anyone since he broke up with Beth a few months ago.

I glance up as I feel a pair of eyes on me and see it's Aaron, standing outside his office, looking over the bullpen. I know he's making sure we're making progress, and his eyes catch mine for a moment, making my heart skip a beat and my breath catch. I look up at him, sending him a warm smile, one which he returns, to my delight.

He wanders back into his office, and I sigh. I jump when I hear Rossi's voice. "When are you going to tell him how you feel?" I sigh, fidgeting with my fingers for a moment. "I don't know. I don't even know how he feels," Rossi sighs again, his voice frustrated. "You won't know until you talk to him, you know. Maybe he returns your feelings?"

I sigh, but there's something about Rossi's remark that catches me off guard. "Wait, what do you know?" I asked him, and he just shook his head. "Uh-huh, flower. If you wanna know, you go ask him. Better yet, tomorrow is casual Friday. Wear that pink sundress you wore to the last team dinner."

He walks off and I watch him, shaking my head. Flower was Aaron's nickname for me. It was only his nickname for me. He did have sort of a soft spot for me, although I insisted he didn't treat me any differently than the other agents. He was the only one who was allowed to use it in regards to me and everyone knew it.

Morgan had nicknames for everyone but me, and when he'd innocently called me flower, hearing Aaron do it, was the last time he'd used it. Aaron had turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. He didn't speak or ask any questions. Morgan held his hands up and never called me that again, but he did tease me about being the only agent allowed to call Hotch by his first name.

I decided to take Rossi's advice and showed up for casual Friday wearing said dress. It was a soft pink color, with tiny white flowers scattered on the fabric. It was modest enough for work while still hugging my curves, my leg poking out of the slit as I walked through the office. I couldn't wear the pink heels I'd worn at the team dinner with this outfit, but I wore pink Converse instead. My dark curls were loose, pulled back in a half-ponytail with a flowery clip.

Aaron was standing outside his office, observing the agents as we all arrived and his eyes met mine. I could have sworn I saw something in his eyes as he saw me, but it was gone. I smiled warmly up at him, and I wasn't surprised when Rossi handed me some files to go drop off to him.

I knocked softly and walked in, meeting his eyes. "Good morning, Aaron," I said softly, my voice warm and gentle. His eyes met mine and I saw his face relax. "Good morning, Flower." My smile got wider as I walked in, setting the files on his desk. "Rossi asked me to give these to you."

He nodded at me, and said, "Thank you, flower." He picked one up and it was a clear dismissal. I nodded and left his office. Rossi met my eyes and said, "Well?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I gave him the files," I said softly.

I walked away as Rossi shook his head. Then he caught my attention. "Hey, Alice?" I turned to face him. "Spencer needs help with that profile, help him will you?" I nodded.

I spent the morning in one of the conference rooms with Spencer helping him. My soft laughter and giggles filtered out into the hallway and bullpen as we worked. I enjoyed working with Spencer. We liked a lot of the same things and had the same sense of humor. He always made me laugh. I may have missed the way Aaron would stare extra hard when Spencer made me laugh, but Rossi hadn't although I didn't realize this at the time.

Spencer was in the middle of telling me a joke when we heard a throat being cleared. I was facing him, and my eyes were fixed on Spencer's as I looked up at him, my small hand on his arm as he made me giggle, and we both turned to see Aaron standing in the doorway. He had his arms crossed. "Sounds like more giggling in here than actual work." His voice was tight, almost as if he was restraining himself.

"Sorry, Hotch." Spencer said, "We're working." He said, gesturing to the whiteboard. I nodded, my dark curls bouncing. "Yeah. He was just telling me a funny joke." I said, "We are working, Aaron, I promise." I missed the way Aaron relaxed at my words, missed the way his eyes softened as he looked at me, but Spencer didn't.

The team loved to tease me about Aaron's supposed soft spot for me. I said they were crazy. They begged to differ. Spencer's grin got wider a moment and then he casually draped his arms over my shoulders, his hands brushing my sides, making me giggle again. "Spencer!" I said, slipping from him.

I missed the way Aaron's eyes darkened as Spencer's arms slipped over my shoulders, and even more so when I'd darted away and giggled. All I heard was Aaron's voice sharp, as he raised it in my direction for the first time. "Alice, there is a time for laughing and now is not it." He said, and his tone took me by surprise. My whole face fell, but I schooled it.

My voice was softer, subdued. "I'm sorry Aaron," I said, and he just turned on his heel and left, leaving me alone with Spencer, wondering what I did wrong. I helped Spencer with the profile and took it to Aaron later, my voice hesitant, as I set it on his desk. "I have that profile for you," I said, meeting his eyes.

He didn't even look up at me at first, and when he did, his voice was tight, as if he was restraining himself. "Thank you." It was only two words, but the way he said them made my heart sink and my stomach twist. Was he mad at me? I had to know, so I asked. "Aaron?" I asked, my voice soft.

He looked up at me, where I stood in front of his desk, my small hands twisting together, shifting my weight from foot to foot in my soft pink dress and I asked, "Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?" My warm honey-brown eyes were locked onto his and I saw him set the profile down, his whole expression softening at the panicked look I'm sure I was wearing.

"No, Flower. I'm not mad at you." He said, his voice gentle, as he stood up, taking one of my hands in his. "I was just disappointed to hear you and Spencer fooling around." He said, and his choice of words made me pause. "We weren't fooling around," I said, confused as I met his eyes. "Spencer was just telling me jokes and picking on me," I said, my head tilting as I looked up at him.

"Well," He said, as he stared down at me. "Didn't seem that way," He said, as he patted my small hand softly. "Now that you've helped Spencer, why don't you-" but he was cut off when Rossi came back in, saying we had a lead on the suspect. Garcia figured out which bar he was getting his girls from and Morgan made the suggestion someone go in as bait.

Everyone's eyes turned to me at once. "What?" I said, meeting their gazes, before realizing what they meant. Aaron was the only one who was against it until Rossi pointed out that it was our only means of catching him. And that's how I found myself at the bar, wearing my communication device and fielding the advances of several men.

The whole time I could hear Aaron's almost tight tone in my ear, "Move away from those men, you need to seem available to the unsub." He says, and I hear the controlled giggles of a few team members at his tone. I slip down the bar and this time when I'm approached, I know it's our unsub. He's charming as he flirts with me, his eyes focused on mine, as he carefully reaches out to tuck my curls behind my ear.

We know his MO is to drug his victims, to get them out of the bar, and so when I set my drink down and turn for the briefest second, I know he's drugged it when I hear that frustrated sound leave Aaron's throat, followed by, "Do not drink that, flower. Get him to take you out near the alley, we're waiting."

I do a good job of pretending I'm drugged, but instead of taking me to the alley behind the bar, he steers me out front, toward the white van waiting across the street. I can hear the team as they scramble to make their way around, and all pretenses dropped, I struggle in his hold, as tight as it is.

He shoves me into a wall, my cheek scraping against the hard brick as he kicks my feet apart, and when his hand covers my mouth to attempt to silence my screams, I bite him, prompting him to shove me harder into the wall, turning me around to slap me just as the team rounds the corner and finds us.

He's taken with brutal force after he's shoved me forward and into Aaron's waiting arms. My cheek is bleeding as Aaron's large hands cup my face, his concerned brown eyes meeting mine ."Are you okay, flower?" He asks, his thumbs gentle as he turns my face this way and that, examining it.

I nod, "Just my cheek," I murmur, and I see his expression grow concerned as he pulls me to the side, bandaging me himself. "How did that happen?" He asked gently, and I saw him tense as I told him how he shoved me into the brick wall. His hands are gentle as he patches me up, and I can't help but say, "Have a lot of practice patching up Jack huh?"

He laughs, the sound soft and gentle. "Yeah, he's always scraping his knee." He says, as he gently cleans my scrape and places a bandage over the scrape. His eyes focus on mine as he sighs. "There, all better." He says, his finger lingering on my cheek.

I don't know what prompts me, but the words leave me before I think them over, my cheeks flushing, "Kiss it better?" I see him tense, his eyes searching mine for something before he nods, leaning in close to me as my heart races in my chest, his lips gently brushing over the bandage. I'm breathing a bit heavily as he pulls back a little.

His voice is husky, "Better?" I shake my head, my curls fluttering along my cheeks with my movements. "Again?" I ask, my eyes soft and voice pleading, as his hand gently cups my face. "One more time," He says, and this time he leans in, his lips brushing across mine with a tenderness I'd never seen from him before. His kiss is soft and gentle, my heart racing in my chest as he kisses me like I'm the most important person in the world to him, our surroundings melting away as he kisses me.

We're interrupted mid-kiss by the catcalls of the team as they catch us, and my cheeks flush as we both pull away from each other. I can see the faint blush on Aaron's cheeks as we hear the team teasing us. Rossi walks up and claps a hand on his shoulder. "I knew you'd do it sooner or later, Aaron." He winks at me as he walks away, and I realize that the team was indeed right. He did have a soft spot for me.

Aaron's fingers are gentle on my face as he promises, "We'll do that again later, without witnesses, flower." And it's the husky quality of his voice, the gentleness of his touch, that makes my heart skip a beat as I can't wait for later. Later, which comes in his office when we make it back to the mission, as his lips find mine again, and the door closing so we have no witnesses this time.

#aaron hotchner 💞#thomas gibson #criminal minds #navy and roo sleepover #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x oc female character #mutual pining

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mochie85 · 2 years ago

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Wanderlust

A moodboard for @the-slumberparty June Event: Summer Vibes.

A short fluffy drabble to follow soon. Keep an eye out!

Main Masterlist | Moodboard Masterlist

🏷️ @navybrat817 @shadeysprings @michelleleewise @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @sarahscribbles @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @irishhappiness @ladycamillewrites @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbsblr @give-me-a-moose @immersed-in-mischief @britishserpent @theaudacitytowrite @coldnique @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @tallseaweed @simplyholl @lokiandbuckysdoll @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @

#navy and roo's sleepover #moodboard #visual challenge #monthly event #navy and roo sleepover #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky #james bucky barnes #summer road trip #wanderlust #fic to follow #bucky barnes fanfic #Summer Vibes Challenge

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theycallmebecca · 2 years ago

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The minute I saw the lumberjack AU on my @the-slumberparty bingo card.. I knew it had to be for Ari Levinson. He gives lumberjack vibes for sure.

In this world, lumberjack!Ari lives in a long cabin (that he obviously built with his own two hands). He chops wood to heat his house in the winter, but he plants more trees every year than he cuts down.

#navy and roo sleepover #becca makes mood boards #mood boards #ari levinson

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buckets-and-trees · 2 years ago

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Late Night Quickie

Collection: SHIELD Gaming AU Characters/Pairings: Joaquin Torres x Natasha Romanoff Word Count: 1.2k Summary: It's still all hands on deck around the clock as time is running our for SHIELD to finish implementing an industry-changing element into the version of The Avengers they're about to send in for game approval before the beta test can be launched soon at PAX East. But Bucky and his game tester aren't the only ones at SHIELD entangled in a very satisfying side quest...

Content Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, praise, dacryphilia, age gap (Nat is 10 years Joaquin's senior)

Logistical Notes: Third tick for my Bingo Card in @the-slumberparty's August/September Challenge with B2: "Clothes on Sex." Same universe as Perfectionists and Test Play but can be read as a standalone - all you need to know is Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Joaquin are the five-person team of game engineers for the SHIELD Gaming company.

Additional Notes: Thank you @vonalyn for reading this for coherency. Gamer graphic by @sgt-seabass. Dedicated to my co-conspirator for "A Very Horny Monday to You All..." @biteofcherry for our first week of mischief - she chose the theme 'oral quickies.' We can all lovingly blame her for this!

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

2am.

Two fucking a-m.

Joaquin just grinned.

This was not the week any of them wanted or expected, and he certainly didn't want this to ever be the norm. But running off adrenaline, catching only a few hours of sleep (if he was lucky), lots of Red Bull, and late-night food orders to make up for what the typical in-house kitchen wasn't covering was something he couldn't deny was an experience.

Teams all across SHIELD Gaming had been and still were working around the clock to get the shelved-for-later Deep Shadow Conditions mode back into the release SHIELD was going to submit to the first party platforms for approval in just a few days. Marketing, story, game engineering, testers… everyone. It was a rush, pushing the limits for this short period of time, but they were close to pulling off a triumph with embedding Deep Shadow. Joaquin had loved the pitch for that aspect when it was originally floated, they had initiated the development, but then a couple of the execs had said to push it back to the next release. Fury had called the audible and said they needed to put it back in to top what HYDRA was developing with Project Insight. But Joaquin had always known Deep Shadow would really push them miles past everything else coming out right now.

That’s why he didn’t mind pulling these insane hours to get the work done with the rest of the engineers.

And he certainly didn’t mind this.

He had no problem leaning back against the wall of the women’s restroom, jeans unzipped, Natasha poised between his legs, and her pretty lips around his cock, deep throating him.

Fuck she looked so good like that. They hadn’t had enough time together since the Deep Shadow blitz, and he was so glad she’d pulled him into the bathroom right now. Her left hand was anchored on his hip, and the other was reaching up his shirt, roving over his abs and chest as his threaded into her hair, holding her head at the base of her skull. He was letting her control the pace and how much of his length she took in for now, just holding her, feeling that connection.

Joaquin had been under no illusion in the beginning that this absolute goddess who was ten years his senior had only been flirting with him because it was fun and had no intentions beyond more than maybe a night or two tumbling in bed together. But he’d had a hunch they could have more, that he wanted more, and categorically convinced her they were worth a shot.

He worshipped her but challenged her in a way no one else did. He knew that’s why she’d even started flirting with him, appreciating that he could go round for round with her sass, her sarcasm, and her saucy comments without getting flustered or cocky and the rest of their conversation – work and casual – had rolled along so easily like they’d been working together for years after only a few weeks.

Now they were eight months into an officially-disclosed-to-HR relationship – but not to their team because they did not need Cap, Sam, or Bucky in their business. Work was work, and until tonight, the physical had stayed outside of HQ.

It spoke to how little time they’d had together that they were here right now.

And he was just as hungry for her as she was for him.

Joaquin took over and pulled her head down slowly on him, drawing Nat down to take all of him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat, then gently nudging further down her esophagus. She moaned around him, her hands flexing against him. “You always take me so well, Romanov.”

He knew she loved this. She was a cocky little minx and so loved the praise. In response she sunk the rest of the way down his cock. He groaned in ecstasy. Love this.

“Fuck, I could stay here with you on my dick until your legs give out.”

She tightened her grip on his hip.

“But I wanna fuck this pretty throat of yours, babe.”

A small noise from her as she stayed just as she was, their eyes locked on each other.

“That’s what you really wanted, isn’t it?”

Those lust-blown green eyes told him everything, and he grinned wickedly down at her. Abruptly twisting them around to place her on her knees with her back against the wall, he made sure she was secure before asking, "Ready for me?"

She hummed again.

He smirked. “Desperate for me?”

A growl this time.

He laughed. “Me, too, babe.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, one more tender moment, then he slowly pulled out until only the head of the cock was the only thing she had her lips around. She sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks, and swirled her tongue over the leaking tip of him. “Oh, you’re so fucking good. Love that talented tongue. But now you’re really gonna take me.”

She nodded, eyes blazing with heat. He moved his right hand to cradle her cheek and jawline as he leaned his left forearm against the wall to brace himself, and then he thrust back into her wet mouth. He continued, pistoning his hips in and out, brutally but not recklessly. She clung to his shirt, his hips, anything from moment to moment. Her eyes watered, then the tears started to spill, and he groaned. “So pretty for me like this. Those gorgeous tears falling for me, just like you fall apart for me.”

And then he just focused on the feel of her around his cock, the heat, the sounds of him sliding in and out, her whimpers and moans. The frenzy built and then he spilled into her mouth and down her throat, hips stuttering to a stop, and she held him there in place, swallowing every bit of him until he was done. She pulled her mouth off him with a deliberately audible pop, smug, beautiful goddess that she was.

She slid up between his heaving chest and the wall, brushing her lips against his jaw with soft, playful kisses. “Like that?”

“Love that,” he corrected. “Bet your cunt’s a hot, drippy mess for me, isn’t she?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased before claiming his lips in a kiss, tangling their tongue so he could taste the evidence of his spend, and pushing her pelvis up against him.

“Meet back here in an hour?”

“Fuck, I’m hoping we can convince them there’s nothing more to do tonight and get out of here in the next hour. Then you’re taking me home to fuck me in your bed properly.”

He laughed, “Anything for my Natalia.”

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

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

#natasha romanoff #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x joaquin torres #joaquin torres x natasha romanoff #aspen wrote something #shield gaming au #navy and roo sleepover #navy and roo's sleepover #shield gaming

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witchywithwhiskey · 6 months ago

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to save me from tears

pairing: DARK!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you thought you were going on a weekend getaway to the cabin of the guy were seeing, but it turned out bucky barnes had no intention of ever letting you leave. now, one year later, it's the anniversary of an important milestone in your relationship, and he knows just how to celebrate the special occasion.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, non-con/rape, abduction, drugging, imprisonment/captivity, sexual exploitation of reader, forced camgirl work, live-streaming sex, smut, rough sex, painful sex, unprotected sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, oral cockwarming with a dildo gag, squirting, sex toys, bondage/shibari, sadism/forced masochism, ass spanking, degradation, objectification, dacryphilia, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (doll, winter slut), mind break, reluctant stockholm syndrome, reader passes out during sex, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, if i missed something please let me know!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: here's my second entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: Has it been a year already? my last fic was so sweet that apparently i had to balance things out with the absolute darkest, filthiest fic i've ever written. i guess i was feeling some type of way, idk!! anyway, i hope y'all enjoy ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” played softly from a speaker in the corner, the chords lilting serenely through the cold basement, the choral harmonizing of the background singers becoming a soundtrack to the depravity you were forced to endure.

It occurred to you that you might wonder how you’d ended up where you had, but you knew exactly how—you’d trusted the wrong man.

Bucky Barnes had been charming from the moment you met. The former army sergeant had wooed you with ice skating dates and trips to the book store, regaling you with stories from his childhood growing up in Brooklyn over cups of hot chocolate and herbal tea.

He’d seemed perfectly normal, like the kind of man you’d want to settle down with, and you found yourself wanting to start a new life with him. It hadn’t been long, but you thought he was the one, and you began planning what that new life would look like in your own imagination.

Apparently Bucky had been determined to give you a new life as well, but he hadn’t given you a choice about what that life would look like. While you’d been picturing a cozy apartment in the city before buying a house and moving out to the suburbs, he’d been planning something much different.

It had all started that weekend in December, when Bucky had invited you for a weekend away at his cabin upstate. You’d been seeing him long enough that you trusted him, and you were excited, hopeful, even, that your relationship would deepen on the trip.

You were so happy about spending a whole weekend alone with Bucky that you didn’t think anything of the darkness in his voice when he’d warned you to never, under any circumstances, go into the basement of the cabin.

Then, after a weekend filled with delicate kisses and gentle lovemaking, you’d been packing to return to the city when a soft cloth had covered your mouth and nose and you’d smelled something sweet. You hadn’t known it at the time, but that was the end of your old life, and you didn’t even have the time or the strength to fight.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you’d woken up in the cold basement that would become your only home in the months to come. A thick leather collar had been wrapped around your neck, connecting to a chain that was attached to the heavy wooden frame of the bed you lay on. To your horror, you’d realized you were clad in lingerie that wasn’t yours, some cheap set that still managed to fit you perfectly.

Bucky had been waiting for you to notice him at the foot of the bed, standing next to a camera aimed directly at you.

“Welcome to your new life, doll,” he’d said, a depraved smirk spreading across his handsome face—and expression you’d never seen before. “Time to earn your keep.” His blue eyes had been glittering with dark excitement as he’d clicked a button on the laptop linked to the camera and crawled onto the bed with you.

That had been the first moment you’d seen the real Bucky Barnes, and he’d spent every day since then showing you exactly how vile and perverted he truly was. He’d kept you in the basement of his cabin and forced you to fuck him on camera, using the money he made from it to buy you more cheap lingerie and all manner of toys to use on your body.

The sharp, cracking sound of a palm meeting soft flesh filled your ears, the subsequent stinging sensation reverberating from your ass through the rest of your body effectively dragging you back into the moment of your latest debasement.

The pain of Bucky spanking you with the full force of his strength only joined the other aches already living in your body—but you knew better than to complain or cry or whimper. You’d made that mistake early on, but Bucky had only seemed to soak in your pain like it fueled him.

The first time he’d spanked you, you’d begged him to stop. Instead, though, he only hit you harder, grinning ear to ear while he’d told you that you had no idea what you were in for yet, fake pity dripping from his tone.

But in the present moment, your pain wasn’t only coming from Bucky’s palm.

Your shoulders ached from the way your arms had been tied behind your back, your hands gripping your forearms and constrained by intricate knots of cords wrapped around your body. To further restrain you, your calves were tied to your thighs, leaving you bound and unable to move with your ass high in the air while your face was shoved into the bed.

In honor of the holiday season, Bucky had traded in the coarse rope he typically used for a long string of multicolored Christmas lights, one end plugged into the wall so your skin was washed in shades of blue, red, green and yellow.

The string of lights was much more uncomfortable than the rope, even though that had burned. The wire holding the lights together was so thin, and the small bulbs dug painfully into your skin. If you didn’t know your discomfort was exactly what Bucky wanted, you might’ve let him see how unhappy you were with your current predicament.

Instead, you hid your face in the blankets of the bed, trying to focus on anything except Bucky’s big cock fucking into your cunt at a bruising pace.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to ignore him, his hard length plowing into your body. Not even the cheery lights wound around your body or the Christmas music playing out of the bluetooth speaker in the corner could distract you from the feel of his cock inside you.

Another jarring smack resounded in the cold basement a brief second before the sting of Bucky’s spank quaked through your body. The strike was hard enough that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. You didn’t want to give him that, even if it would’ve been muffled by the blankets under your face.

“How many times do I gotta tell ya, doll,” Bucky huffed, his voice patronizing and impatient, like he was talking to a misbehaving child. “Look at the camera when I’m fucking you.” He spanked you again, so hard you felt your entire body tremble under the weight of it, then he grabbed and groped your ass cruelly enough to leave marks. “Our audience wants to see your face—don’t ya, fellas?”

That last part was directed at the camera. You turned your head, tipping your face toward the lens just in time to catch the reflection of the rakish grin Bucky shot to whoever was watching.

The chat box on the screen of the laptop set up just out of frame lit up, the audience for your daily stream with Bucky telling the both of you just how much they wanted to see your face while you were fucked by his fat cock.

Your eyes caught a few of the filthy, degrading messages before looking away. You refused to believe the way your cunt clenched was in response to what you’d read. You absolutely were not getting turned on by the depraved life your captor forced you to live.

Bucky’s large body curled over your back, his hand wrapping around your throat and lifting your head from the bed so the camera could better see your face. The position shoved his cock even deeper into your cunt, ramming painfully against your cervix and, against your will, your face contorted at the twinge deep in your body.

The chat lit up, chimes dinging fast and furious as the messages came in, and Bucky reached for the laptop so he could read what your viewers had written.

All the while, his hips kept grinding idly against your ass so his cock rubbed even harder into your cervix, making you let out a little whimper of anguish. His fingers tightened around the sides of your neck, enough to cut off your ability to breathe, and your whimper turned into a desperate, scared little keen.

You felt Bucky grin against your cheek, and you could’ve kicked yourself for giving him exactly what he’d wanted—a reaction. But at least his grip loosened, though you knew it was only because he didn’t want you to pass out too soon.

“The chat says you look like such a pretty little toy when I fuck you all tied up like this, doll,” Bucky cooed in your ear, grinding harder into your cunt.

You sunk your teeth deep into your lower lip as your whole body trembled under the assault of Bucky’s thick cock. Despite yourself, you felt your cunt clench hard around his stiff length, wetness frothing and gushing from your hole as he made a mockery of your protests.

Before you’d met Bucky, you would’ve sworn you didn’t like pain. You’d have said you hated it, in fact.

But after so many days and months of being speared open by his fat cock, all three of your holes ravaged by his hard, unrelenting manhood in his need to dominate you, to conquer your body in every way possible, you couldn’t help your pussy’s response to it.

You told yourself it was some kind of defense mechanism, that your body had begun to react to pain the same way it did pleasure. It was the only explanation you could bear to endure. Because if you admitted you’d begun to like the way Bucky fucked you and abused you…

“Ohhh, listen to this one,” Bucky crooned excitedly, drawing you out of your thoughts and giving you a distraction from the way he was working your body toward its undoing. “‘Happy anniversary to the Winter Soldier and his Winter Slut!’”

The names were, of course, fake ones that Bucky had chosen to give the audience of your streams something to call you both. His was based on his past as a sergent, combined with the season when he’d taken you captive, while yours showed his ownership over you.

You hated it. You didn’t want anyone thinking Bucky owned you.

But Bucky either didn’t notice or ignored the way you grimaced when he read the fake names aloud. He turned his eyes, filled with cheerful wickedness, toward the camera.

“Has it been a year already?”

The question was full of charm, and you could almost imagine it coming from the Bucky you’d originally met. The one who might’ve celebrated your one-year anniversary with a recreation of your first date, ending with a heartfelt proposal that the two of you move in together.

Instead, the question hadn’t even been asked to you, but to the camera—to the audience of loyal, degenerate perverts who watched your streams.

The quick, successive chimes from the laptop drew Bucky’s attention back to it, and he hummed in acknowledgement as he read through the messages.

His fingers squeezed around your throat, making you choke harder for the camera, adding to the small sounds of anguish that were slipping from your lips while he kept up his merciless grinding, his cock bruising your cervix.

A new sound, one like a cash register, joined the dinging chimes of the chat message and your heart sank.

That was the sound of people in the chat sending extra tips on top of the subscription fees they paid to get access to your streaming channel. It meant they were making requests for Bucky to do something new—and that never resulted in anything good for you.

Before you could glance at the laptop to try to get an idea of what was coming, Bucky sat back on his haunches, hauling you up with his hand around your throat. Between gravity and the change in position, it felt like Bucky’s cock pushed even deeper into your cunt, pressing against your cervix so hard it stole the breath from your lungs.

“It’s the one year anniversary of your very first stream, doll,” Bucky announced gleefully in your ear, using his free hand to slap at your tits. They were bound between two strings of the Christmas lights wrapped around your body, your soft tits highlighted by the shining, multicolored hues. “Do you have anything to say to our audience, my little Winter Slut?”

It was clear Bucky wanted you to thank them for their loyal viewership, but resentment held your tongue. Memories assaulted you of the very first stream you’d been forced to do.

Bucky had pinned you down on that very same bed, using nothing but his strong hands and large body to pin you to the mattress while he tore your cheap lingerie off your body. Then he’d ravaged you, slapping and groping your tits before biting them so hard you’d started crying.

It had been the only foreplay he’d offered you before he’d shoved his cock deep in your cunt. He was so big and your body was so unprepared that you’d screamed, which only made Bucky laugh. He’d told you, mockingly, that there wasn’t anyone around to hear you scream—only the audience on the dark web where he was streaming your defilement for who knew how many people who were just as vile as Bucky.

Bucky’s fingers digging deep into the sides of your neck brought you back to the present moment, small gasps falling from your lips as he cut off your air again. Your pulse pounded in your head, but you still managed to notice that Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” had given way to another Christmas song, the festive music so at odds with the dread and fear pooling in your belly.

“I guess my Winter Slut is feeling ungrateful today, chat,” Bucky said on a laugh.

His tone was mocking in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you refused to believe it might be anticipation. Your body quaked when his soft mouth brushed against your cheek, the gesture almost like a kiss as he turned his head so he could murmur in your ear.

“Our audience wants to see something special for our anniversary, doll,” he cooed. “They want to see me break you.”

Unease and something else flooded your veins, the conflicting emotions warring for dominance as you struggled to make sense of the way your cunt had clenched around Bucky’s cock when he’d said he was going to break you. You pressed your mouth into a grim line, still determined not to show your reaction to Bucky or the camera, especially when you didn’t understand what was happening to you.

In the year that you’d spent as Bucky’s personal cam star, you’d endured a lot—and if anyone had asked you, you’d have said you hadn’t enjoyed any of it. But over time, that had begun to change. You’d been fighting it, fighting your body’s responses to Bucky and every depraved thing he did to you. It was becoming so hard, and you were growing so tired of fighting, of pretending…

“I have just the thing—but first, let’s fill this slut’s mouth,” Bucky was telling the camera, and you forced yourself to focus back on the moment to prepare yourself.

Bucky shifted to the side, grabbing something from the basket of sex toys he kept next to the bed during streams. When you saw what he pulled out, you bit your lip against a helpless whimper.

He’d pulled out a penis gag, but it wasn’t just any normal penis gag—it was one he’d specially ordered for you. Instead of having a two or three inch dick attached to the strip of leather that would tie around your head, there was a full-sized dildo replica of Bucky’s cock. His big, thick cock.

You tried to keep your mouth closed when Bucky pressed the tip of the silicone cock to your lips, but he only tutted at you with a patronizing click of his tongue. Shifting his fingers from your throat to your cheeks, he dug them in until it hurt. Your jaw gave way.

“That’s a good little cock slut, open for your Winter Soldier,” he cooed patronizingly, shoving the fake dick into your mouth without preparation or remorse.

You gagged as the stiff dildo invaded your throat, tears beginning to flow from your eyes and spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth. Your arms yanked against the Christmas lights holding you bound, but that only forced them to dig deeper into your skin, making your struggle hurt that much more.

While you were distracted by trying to adjust to the silicone cock shoved deep inside you, Bucky secured the leather strap around the back of your head, tying it into place and making it impossible for you to do anything but hold the dildo in your mouth and breathe through the way it bulged in your throat.

Then Bucky was dumping you unceremoniously on the mattress and pulling his cock from your cunt, leaving you to fall face first into the blankets while he hopped up off the bed. You were thankful you could muffle your whimper at the loss of him in the sheets, even as you knew that whatever he had planned would be so much worse than him just fucking you while tied up and gagged.

“I was going to save this one for Christmas,” he was saying from behind a privacy screen beside the bed. It was set up to make sure the camera would only show viewers what Bucky wanted them to see—which was you, and everything he did to you. “But since it’s a special occasion, I’ll let you have your present early.”

When Bucky stepped back into view, your heart nearly stopped.

A leather harness was strapped onto Bucky’s hips, a dildo attached so it hung below his cock. The contraption, which had clearly been specially ordered because you’d never seen anything like it, wasn’t what shocked you, though—it was the size of the dildo.

The fake dick was easily twice the size of Bucky’s cock, bigger around and just as long. Staring at it with wide eyes, you genuinely didn’t think it would fit in any of your holes, no matter how roughly Bucky tried to stuff it in. But your cunt was between your thighs like it couldn’t wait for him to try.

Despite your dedication not to give Bucky or the audience any kind of reaction, you couldn’t help the, “No, no, no, no, no,” that came from your mouth. You couldn’t fathom the massive dildo fitting inside you, let alone you enjoying it, no matter how much your body warmed at the prospect of being fucked with it.

Your protests were muffled by the gag in your mouth, to the point that your words were indiscernible, but their meaning must’ve been understood because Bucky chuckled as he walked back to you.

“I know what you’re thinking, doll,” Bucky said conversationally while he climbed onto the bed and retook his place behind you. “There’s no way it’ll fit.”

He grabbed the knotted string of Christmas lights where they crisscrossed between your shoulder blades, pulling your torso up off the bed so your face was level with the camera. You tried not to look at your reflection in the lens, your mouth split open around the dildo in your mouth and your eyes round as saucers, but it was hard not to stare at the look in your eye—the look of something like fear… or excitement.

“But that’s what’s so fun about it,” Bucky went on, dragging the hard length of the silicone dick through your dripping wet folds, coating the fake cock in the mess of wetness your body was leaking against your will. “It will fit—and it’s going to ruin your cunt.”

Once upon a time, you’d thought the same thing about Bucky’s cock.

The first time you’d had sex with Bucky—before the cabin and the basement and the camera—you’d taken one look at his cock and whimpered in fear. But he’d been so gentle, promising you that he’d take it slow, that your pussy was made to fit his cock.

He’d taken his time, kissing your lips and cheeks and all over your face while he worked his cock into your pussy, giving you another inch only when you’d adjusted to the last and relaxed in his arms. Slowly, and with what seemed like an endless amount of patience, he’d opened you up for him.

That night, he’d made love to you in deep, toe-curling strokes that had wrecked you. He’d seemingly rearranged your body to be the perfect fit for his cock, and then he’d given you the best orgasm of your life.

No wonder you hadn’t stood a chance.

More than a year later, the memory felt like a dream. It was so faded around the edges, aged by the months spent taking Bucky’s cock roughly, furiously, whenever and wherever he wanted, all while he streamed your debasement for the audience on the dark web.

“You’re going to be so loose that you won’t even feel my cock anymore, doll,” Bucky was saying as he dragged you back to the moment by thrusting his own hard length into your cunt, soaking himself in your juices. “You’ll have to beg me to fuck you with this massive dildo just to feel anything again.” He paused, chuckling to himself as he bent over you, pressing a kiss to your spine between your shoulder blades before murmuring darkly, “That’s your Christmas present this year.”

Then, without anymore preamble, Bucky sat up and pulled out. You didn’t even have time to beg or whine before he lined his cock and the dildo up at the entrances to your tight holes, then shoved both into you at the same time. Bucky buried himself inside you so deeply, so thoroughly, that it felt like he was pushing into the very core of your being, conquering your soul just as completely as he’d conquered your body.

The intrusion was so sudden, you never had a hope of preparing, and all you felt was the devastating sting of being stretched past your limit, the overwhelming ache of being stuffed full beyond what you thought your body could ever take.

Pain eclipsed any semblance of pleasure you might’ve gotten from having both your holes stuffed full, and your eyes rolled back in your head, a piercing cry tearing from your throat. A white hot burn scorched through your body, and your mind went entirely blank, leaving nothing but depraved annihilation in its wake.

“Oh fuck, fellas, she’s so fucking tight like this,” Bucky groaned, talking over your head into the camera. “I can feel the fake cock splitting her open—it’s making her ass so fucking tight.”

Humiliation and shame swept through your body at his words, turning the burn into something slightly more bearable, almost pleasurable. There was something about being ignored, being treated like nothing more than a fleshlight or a fuck doll while Bucky completely decimated your body that was so…

You shook your head. No. You weren’t going to finish that thought.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long ‘m gonna last,” Bucky was grumbling, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your audience.

The words should’ve sounded like music to your ears. You should’ve been happy the torture was almost over. Instead, you felt a pang of disappointment deep in your heart. But you didn’t have time to unpack what that could mean because then Bucky started fucking you.

His hips pulled back until only the tip of his cock and the dildo were still in your ass and pussy, then he plowed forward, shunting his entire length and the fat, massive fake cock into your holes once again. The pain of being split open was already starting to fade, an all-consuming pleasure creeping into the edges of your awareness against your will.

On Bucky’s third thrust, you moaned.

Your mind was hazy with a mixture of pain and pleasure that was leaning more toward the latter, and with the cock gag in your mouth, you were helpless against the reactions Bucky was wringing from your body. The sound of pleasure slipped from your lips unbidden, and your face heated in shame, which only served to add more fuel to the fire burning through your body.

“Did ya hear that, chat?” Bucky crowed, slapping your ass painfully hard—hard enough that another muffled cry was wrenched from your mouth. “Our little Winter Slut is enjoying her Christmas present! She loves getting her cunt ruined, don’t ya, doll?”

He slammed deep into your body as he asked the question and you were powerless, incapable of doing anything but moaning obscenely for the camera, tears streaming down your cheeks and joining the spit that coated the lower half of your face. Long strings of drool and tears were hanging from your chin, dripping onto the bedsheets below.

Distantly, you heard the chimes from the chat log and the cash register sounds as messages and money poured in. They were coming so fast and so furious that you couldn’t even begin to fathom how much money you were making for Bucky while he broke you with his cocks.

Bucky must’ve heard the sounds too, because he doubled his efforts. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, fucking you hard and fast, spanking your ass mercilessly while his other hand still held you up off the bed by your Christmas light restraints. It meant that your face was framed perfectly in the camera frame.

It occurred to you that you should let your gaze drift off, let your mind retreat somewhere deep inside itself where you could hide from Bucky and what he was doing to your body. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the camera’s display panel.

There, you could see the scene Bucky had constructed—your body tied up in glittering, technicolor Christmas lights; your face covered in tears and drool, lips spread thin around the base of the cock gag; your throat bulging from the fake dick buried deep in your mouth; your tits bouncing between the strands of lights.

Behind you, with a look of deeply depraved joy on his face, was Bucky Barnes.

He was naked save for the harness belted around his hips and the santa hat on his head. His big body was on display just as much as yours, his broad chest swathed in pale skin and chiseled muscles, his arms bulging as he held you up and spanked your ass.

Bucky’s dark hair was falling into his handsome face, but the strands didn’t hide the merry grin on his lips or the way his blue eyes glittered with wicked delight as he stared down at the place where his cock and the massive dildo were brutally fucking your holes.

It was too much to watch your defilement. It was too depraved and too…hot.

God help you, but something must’ve finally broken inside you because it was so fucking hot to watch yourself be violated on camera while jaunty Christmas music played in the background and hundreds, if not thousands, of perverts watched Bucky have his way with you.

Your pussy spasmed and clenched around the fake cock in your hole as you thought about those people watching you. It turned you on that the audience knew Bucky was fucking you against your will and not only were they doing nothing about it, they were taking their own pleasure from watching you be ravaged. Your cunt drooled even more.

Bucky Barnes had officially broken you.

That was the only conclusion you could reach, because when you’d met him more than a year ago, you never would’ve imagined that your pussy would be creaming all over a fat, girthy dildo while Bucky fucked your ass and held you tied up with Christmas lights for anyone on the dark web to watch.

But after a year of being fucked hard in every one of your holes, Bucky had finally broken you down until you’d joined him on his level. He’d torn away every ounce of shame, every bit of what had made you you, and remade you in the image of his perfect toy. You were a doll, his doll, just like he called you.

The realization filled you with a sense of peace you never would’ve expected, your body relaxing as your mind went blissfully blank. It was easier this way, you told yourself, as you breathed a sigh of relief. All that was left of you was Bucky Barnes’ perfect doll—his Winter Slut cam star.

Bucky must’ve felt or somehow sensed your submission because he groaned a filthy sound of pleasure and shoved his hips flush against your ass. He paused for a moment, his hand groping your ass possessively before pulling back and ramming home again, burying himself even deeper inside you, the massive dildo bullying your cervix as he pounded into you.

“That’s my girl, take your Winter Soldier’s cock like a good little fuck doll,” Bucky purred, his voice taking on a tenor of contentment you’d never heard before. It was like he was praising you for your submission, for finally giving yourself over to him, mind, body and soul. “You’re being such a perfect Winter Slut, taking me so good and crying so pretty for the camera.”

You preened under his praise, using what little strength remained in your body to shove your hips back onto Bucky’s cocks, fake and real alike, while you sucked enthusiastically on the fake dick in your mouth. Tears flowed harder from your eyes and you sobbed your pleasure, choked sounds of enjoyment falling from your lips.

You could feel the most devastating orgasm of your life building in the core of your being, and you were eager to chase it, knowing it would rewrite the fundamental fabric of your self.

“Fuck yeah, doll, be my perfect little cam star,” Bucky rumbled, slapping your ass in encouragement, the sting of pain swirling with the pleasure he was wringing from your body and adding to the burning bliss scorching through you. “Show the chat how good my Winter Slut can cry for their money—show them how much you love feeling me ruin your holes for Christmas.”

Bucky rutted into you, pounding into your cunt and ass so hard that the clapping of his hips against your skin was filling the basement and almost drowning out the new Christmas song that had begun. It felt so good, so fucking good to be fucked and filled in every hole, that you were close—so close you could nearly taste it.

“Fucking take it, Winter Slut, take the only cock you’ll ever feel again,” Bucky growled, curling around your body and taking your throat in his hand. He squeezed tightly, grinding his cock and dildo into your body, so deep, you could feel them in your guts. “For the rest of your life, you’re gonna do nothing but take my cock and be my pretty little cam star—you’re all fucking mine.”

Something snapped inside you and you felt liquid gush between your thighs, coating the massive fake cock in your cunt. Your squirt sprayed down to soak the sheets beneath you, and all you could do was revel in the pleasure flooding your body, every limb trembling with the force of it while you gasped and cried around Bucky’s hold on your throat.

When he realized what you’d done, Bucky whooped with triumph, crowing into the camera that he’d made you squirt, that you were his perfect little fuck doll cam star. But you were too consumed by your oncoming release, which was barreling toward you with the force of a freight train.

Before it finally hit you, and you came so hard your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you passed out, Bucky wrapped himself more tightly around your body, his chest pressing into your back and his arms wrapping around your front. He choked you with one big hand while the other groped and played roughly with your tits.

To your surprise, he brushed a kiss to your cheek in a gesture that felt affectionate.

“You’re making me so fucking proud, doll,” he cooed in your ear, and you thought, for a moment, that he sounded just like the sweet Bucky Barnes you’d met all those months ago. “You’re the best Christmas present I ever could’ve asked for.”

Just then, your release slammed into you and you screamed—and there wasn’t anyone around to hear you except Bucky and his camera.

Overwhelming pleasure washed through you, darkness creeping into the edges of your consciousness as your body convulsed and you choked on the dildo in your throat while your other holes clenched around the cocks that had split you open beyond your limit.

The last thing you heard before the weight of your release dragged you under was the festive synth pop chords of another Christmas song, and Wham! singing, “This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.”

Somewhere inside you, you knew that everything was going to change once you woke up. Bucky had finally broken you, and you’d given him your ultimate submission. Nothing would be the same, but you found that that didn’t scare you as much as it once might have.

You belonged to Bucky Barnes and you’d finally accepted that as fact. He’d taken everything else, but you still had your heart left to give—and you were certain it wouldn’t be long before you gave him that too. Maybe, at least, it would save you from tears…

As you came so hard you passed out, you accepted that your thoughts, your pleasure, your mind, your body, your soul—your everything—belonged to Bucky Barnes. Then, everything went black.

december daze challenge masterlist

1K notes · View notes

societyfolklore · 6 months ago

Text

Under His Skin

Title: Under His Skin (Prompts - here, take my jacket)

Pairing: Agent!Bucky Barnes x Agent!Female Reader

Summary: When a mission requires you to charm a wealthy arms dealer to secure critical intel, Bucky’s jealousy boils over as the target gets too close for comfort. After pulling you out of the mission and draping his jacket over your shoulders, he confronts you at the safe house. The result? An explosive night fuelled by pent-up desire and possessiveness.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: /Warnings // Explicit Content // 18+, Minors DNI, smut, possessive behavior, fingering, Unprotected sex...

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberpartyDecember daze challenge – Day 26)

The gala was in full swing, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the grand ballroom. Soft golden light poured from intricate chandeliers overhead, casting a warm glow across the polished marble floors. The air was heavy with the mingled scents of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint bite of cigar smoke drifting in from the balcony. A string quartet played in the corner, their lilting melody weaving through the chatter of the well-dressed crowd. The atmosphere was elegant, but the undercurrent of tension was palpable, the kind that came with secrets exchanged under the guise of pleasantries. You glided through the crowd with practiced ease, your lips curved in a polite smile as you balanced a champagne flute in one hand. The sleek, black dress you wore was as much a weapon as the dagger strapped to your thigh, designed to capture attention and hold it. It worked-too well.

Across the room, Bucky Barnes stood at the bar, nursing a drink that he hadn’t touched. His sharp blue eyes tracked your every move, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He hated the way the target’s hand lingered too long on your bare skin, the way your laugh-forced, but still intoxicating-filled the room. Jealousy coiled in his chest like a viper, striking at his composure each time the man leaned closer to you.

Bucky’s grip on the glass tightened, the faint creak of his metal hand going unnoticed by the guest around him. He knew it was part of the mission, knew you were only doing your job, but the sight of another man touching you, smiling at you like he had a right to, made something primal rise within him. It wasn’t just jealousy-it was protectiveness, a possessive edge he hadn’t felt this sharply in years. And he didn’t trust himself to look away. His sharp blue eyes tracked your every move, his jaw tight as he watched you laugh softly at something the target said.

“Barnes, you’re supposed to be watching for threats, not burning holes through the back of her dress,” Sam’s voice crackled in his earpiece, laced with amusement.

Bucky ignored him, his grip tightening on the glass in his hand. He could see the way the arms dealer’s gaze lingered too long on you, the way his hand brushed against your bare shoulder as he leaned in to speak. Something dark and possessive coiled in Bucky’s chest, and he had to remind himself to unclench his jaw.

You were doing your job, just like you’d done a hundred times before. But this time, it felt different. He couldn’t shake the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, couldn’t stand the sight of that man’s hand on you.

“Bucky, focus,” Sam’s voice cut in again, sharper this time. “She’s got this.”

But Bucky wasn’t sure he did.

You kept your smile firmly in place as the target, a smug, overly confident arms dealer named Viktor, leaned closer, his cologne an overwhelming blend of sharp citrus and musk that clung to the air like a cloud. His blonde, slicked-back hair gleamed under the ballroom lights, and his tailored suit fit just a little too perfectly, as if he wanted to remind everyone in the room of his wealth. His mannerisms were no better-a smirk that never quite reached his cold, calculating eyes, and a habit of letting his fingers linger a moment too long whenever he touched someone. He exuded arrogance, the kind that made your stomach churn, but you kept your expression neutral, your charm carefully calibrated. “You are a rare gem, aren’t you?” he said, his fingers brushing against your lower back.

It took everything in you not to recoil. Instead, you tilted your head, letting out a soft laugh as you subtly slid the small flash drive into the hidden compartment of your clutch. “You’re too kind,” you replied smoothly, your voice dripping with false charm.

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you out later?” Viktor asked, his hand lingering far too long.

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over you both. You glanced up to find Bucky standing there, his expression cold and unreadable, though his eyes burned with barely restrained anger.

“And who is this?” Viktor asked, straightening, though his hand remained on your waist.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to the man’s hand, his lips pressing into a thin line. “We’re done here,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced you. Viktor’s smile faltered under Bucky’s intense stare, and he finally dropped his hand from your waist.

Bucky’s hand came to rest on your arm, firm but not rough, as he guided you away. You didn’t look back.

Outside, the night air was frigid, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the ballroom. You shivered as the cold seeped through the thin fabric of your dress. Without a word, Bucky shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his movements deliberate but charged with tension. His fingers lingered for a moment as he adjusted the collar, the warmth of his touch seeping through the leather. His jaw was tight, and his gaze flicked to yours, intense and unreadable, before shifting back to the street. It wasn’t just an act of kindness; it felt like a silent claim, one that left your heart racing and your thoughts scattered. It was warm, carrying his scent-clean and earthy with a hint of gun oil.

“Bucky…” you started, but he cut you off.

“Not here,” he muttered, his voice tight. “Let’s go.”

The ride to the safe house was silent, tension crackling in the air between you. Bucky’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw set in a hard line. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the way your heart raced, the heat of his jacket a constant reminder of how close he’d been.

The moment the door to the safe house shut behind you, the dam broke. Bucky’s pacing was immediate, his boots thudding against the wooden floor with a rhythm that mirrored the storm brewing inside him. His metal hand flexed and released in a steady, almost mechanical motion, but his flesh hand betrayed his agitation as it raked through his hair, leaving it wild and dishevelled. His jaw worked furiously, the muscles tensing and releasing as if he were biting back words too sharp to speak aloud.

Each turn he made across the room seemed more restless than the last, his movements like a predator caged too long. His eyes, sharp and blazing with an intensity that made your stomach twist, kept darting to you and then away, as though he couldn’t bear to look at you for too long. When he finally stopped and turned to face you, his shoulders squared and his chest heaving with controlled breaths, you could feel the air in the room shift. The storm inside him was no longer contained.

Bucky’s pacing was immediate, his boots thudding against the wooden floor as his metal hand flexed and released, frustration etched into every tense line of his body. When he finally turned to face you, his blue eyes were blazing.

“What the hell was that back there?” he demanded, his voice low but vibrating with barely restrained anger. “Letting him touch you like that?”

“What do you mean ‘letting him’?” you shot back, your voice rising. “It was a mission, Bucky. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Didn’t have a choice?” he echoed, stepping closer, his tone incredulous. “You could have moved his hand. You could have stepped away. But you didn’t.”

“And blow my cover? Are you out of your mind?” you snapped, frustration mounting. “What would you have had me do, Barnes? Start a fight in the middle of the gala?”

His jaw clenched, and he took another step forward, his presence overwhelming. “This isn’t about the mission,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “This is about him thinking he could put his hands on you. Thinking he could touch what doesn’t belong to him.”

You blinked, his words catching you off guard. “What doesn’t belong to him?” you repeated, your voice softer now but tinged with confusion. “What are you going on about?”

His eyes blazed as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “You,” he said, the single word filled with a possessiveness that sent heat coursing through you. “You don’t belong to him.”

“Do you hear yourself? Of course, I don’t belong to him! He’s the target. Why are you acting like this? What’s gotten into you?” you snapped, your voice a mix of anger and disbelief.

Bucky’s hand pressed firmly against the wall beside your head, caging you in, his gaze darkening further. “Because the thought of him putting his hands on you, talking to you like that, makes me see red. You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was low, almost a growl, the tension radiating off him in waves.

“Get what, Bucky?” you asked, your voice trembling now, more from the intensity in his eyes than fear. “This isn’t about the mission anymore, is it?”

“Damn right it isn’t,” he snapped, his jaw tightening as his fingers grazed your waist, holding you in place. “He doesn’t deserve to even look at you, let alone touch you. You’re mine, and no one else gets that right.”

Your breath hitched, the heat of his words igniting something deep within you. “Yours?” you repeated, the word barely a whisper.

“Say it,” Bucky demanded, his voice rough, his gaze locking with yours. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath caught as his metal hand braced against the wall beside your head, his eyes staring right into you, a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with fear. His other hand gripped your waist, the heat of his touch burning through the thin fabric of your dress. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his body close enough that his chest almost brushed yours. The scent of his cologne surrounded you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your pulse quickened, the magnetic pull of his presence making it impossible to focus on anything but the way his fingers tightened against your side, anchoring you to the moment. “Bucky…” you started, but the intensity in his gaze stole the words from your lips as he shifted closer this time pushing his chest into yours.

“Say it Doll,” he murmured, his lips inches from yours. “Say you’re mine.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the air thick with tension. “What are you-”

"Say it!" The growl that came from him shook you.

"-Yours." you whispered, the confession tumbling out before you could stop it.

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss fierce and demanding. His hands roamed your body, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his metal fingers cool against your skin. You moaned softly as his mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and reverent. His hands found the slit in your dress, sliding up your thigh as he pressed you harder against the wall.

“Bucky, please…” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He paused, his hand sliding further up your thigh, his lips brushing against your ear. “Only I get to feel you like this,” he rasped, his tone possessive and unrelenting. “Only I get to hear those noises, little whines and whimpers your going to make. He could never make you fall apart the way I can. You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

“Tell me what you need, Doll,” he growled, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ll give you anything. 'Long as mine and I'll give ya whatever you want." His movements were swift and deliberate, the dress slipping from your shoulders as his hands explored every inch of you. The rest of the world faded away, leaving only the heat of his body and the fire in his touch.

"Touch me."

"That's my girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

His metal hand slid down your body, finding the slit of your dress and pushing it aside with a deliberate slowness that left your skin tingling. His flesh hand followed, warm and firm, gripping your thigh as he pressed his body even closer to yours. “You’re mine, Doll,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver through you. His blue eyes burned with a feral intensity as his fingers tightened on your waist. “No one’s ever going to make you feel like I can, not anyone. Especially not that sleaze from tonight. The way he looked at you-he couldn’t even imagine touching you like this.”

You gasped as his fingers brushed over your core, the pressure just enough to tease but not satisfy. “Bucky...” you whimpered, your hips moving instinctively toward his hand.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear. “Only I get these sounds from you, bet your going to sing like little nightingale aren't ya sweetheart? Going to let me touch ya and you'll sing so pretty.”

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, finding you already slick and ready for him. He groaned at the sensation, the feel of your wetness on his fingers making a part of him burn. Bucky lips trailing down your neck as his fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles that left you trembling against the wall. Making a mess of you between your folds. “Not no bodies, just mine.” his voice harsh, demanding in your ear as his breath hot against your skin.

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you, your head falling back against the wall as his touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. His metal hand gripped your waist, steadying you as his other hand worked you closer to the edge.

“Say it,” he demanded, his tone rough and possessive. His blue eyes bore into yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch. “Tell me nobody else could ever touch you like this. Tell me nobody else will ever have you.”

Your heart pounded as his words sank in, a mix of raw vulnerability and searing intensity in his voice. Part of you wanted to push back, to challenge the claim he was staking on you, but the way his hands gripped you-firm, unyielding-sent a thrill coursing through you that you couldn’t deny.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and trepidation.

“Say it,” he growled again, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and unrelenting. “Say you’re mine. That no one else will ever make you feel like this., this pussy mine now..”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word slipping from your lips like a confession. “Noone else. Just you.”

A satisfied growl rumbled deep in his chest, and the tension in his body eased slightly, though the fire in his gaze burned brighter than ever. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his tone low and reverent, as though the words had solidified something unshakable between you.

“No one..” you gasped, the words spilling out as your body trembled under his touch. “Fuck.”

“Damn right you no one but mine,” he growled, his pace quickening as he pushed you closer and closer to release. “No one else fucking gets this, you hear me. No one else gets you.”

When you finally shattered, his name was a cry on your lips, your body arching against his as the pleasure consumed you. His hand slowed, drawing out every last wave before he pulled you against him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was just as fierce as the moment before.

“Bed,” he muttered against your lips, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. The dominance in his tone left no room for argument, his arms cradling you as though you weighed nothing. His blue eyes bore into yours, dark with a hunger that was as urgent as it was unrelenting. “You’re not done yet, Doll. Not even close. I’m going to make sure you know exactly who you belong to now.”

He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before hovering over you, his blue eyes dark with promise. “Let me show you just how much you’re mine.”

His hands were on you immediately, sliding down the curve of your sides with a deliberate slowness that left your skin prickling with anticipation. He leaned down, his lips brushing over your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a rough promise. “No one else gets to hear the sounds you make when I touch you, get to here that sweet pussy gush.”

His hands roamed lower, tracing every inch of you, as if memorizing the map of your body. He shifted slightly, pressing a kiss just above the swell of your breasts before his fingers trailed lower, teasing the waistband of your panties. “God, Doll,” he muttered, his lips curving into a faint smirk as he felt the way your hips arched into his touch.

Bucky's fingers dipped beneath the still soaked fabric, digits playing in the mess he'd made of you. He groaned, the sound low and guttural, as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “Only me,” he rasped, his fingers beginning to move in slow, torturous circles. “Only I get to make you feel like this. Everyone else gets to dream of touching you the way I do.”

You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he worked you closer to the edge again your voice getting higher in pitch. Bucky quickened his pace, the pressure of his fingers coaxing more moans from your lips that made his smirk deepen. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with possessive pride. “That’s my girl. Let me hear you.” Your desperate little noises were music to him.

“Bucky,” you cried out, his name falling from your lips like a plea as your body trembled beneath him. His free hand slid to your thigh, holding you steady as the tension in your body built higher and higher.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice rough with desire. "All mine. Viktor couldn’t dream of making you look like this. Couldn’t dream of touching you the way I do."

“Nah nah, come on Doll,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. His blue eyes bore into yours, their intensity grounding you as your release shattered through you. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice softening as he worked you through the waves of pleasure the gasping noises mixing with his own pleased groans. “Only me. Only ever me.”

Pulling his hand away, Bucky leaned back slightly, his eyes raking over you with a feral hunger that made your breath catch. Slowly, methodically, he began to remove his clothes, each piece falling to the floor as his gaze never left your trembling, flushed form. The sight of you sprawled out before him, your body glistening and your chest heaving as you came down from the high he’d just given you, made his lips curl into a dangerous smirk.

His metal hand traced the edge of your thigh, sending a shiver through your still-sensitive body. He reached forward, his fingers brushing against your swollen cunt, teasing you as he whispered, "This? She's mine. Every sound you make, every way your body responds-it’s all for me. No one else gets this."

You whimpered as his touch lingered, your hips arching instinctively toward him. His smirk deepened as he slid his fingers back to your entrance, watching as your body clenched around nothing in anticipation. "God, Doll," he murmured, his voice thick with need. "You’re already so ready for me, she's just aching for me."

He moved to hover over you, the heat of his bare skin pressing against yours as he caged you in, his body blocking out the rest of the world. "I’m going to make you forget everything but me," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Forget the name of anyone before me, hell forget your own name now Doll."

Your hands found their way to his back, your nails dragging down his skin as he adjusted himself, the weight and heat of him igniting a fire in you all over again. "Bucky... please," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

His mouth captured yours in a searing kiss, his body pressing flush against you as he began to move. "That’s my girl," he groaned against your lips. "Let me hear you, Doll. Let me hear how much you’re mine."

You felt him push at your entrance his mouth moving to your ear. "Only talking you do now is to ask for more."

As Bucky's mouth moved to your ear, his hot breath sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to take every inch of me, Doll," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "You're going to take it all, and you're going to beg for more."

"Mine," Bucky growled, before his hips snapping forward as he buried himself deep inside you. "Told you -This. Is. Mine.Now." His words met with hard thrusts. "Every inch hot wet inch of her. Fucking. Mine. Now.."

He pushed down into you, sinking himself, feeding inches at a slow, torturous pace.

"Oh, god," you whimpered, your hands digging into his back as he filled you up.

You felt his hands on your hips, holding you in place as he started to move, pulling his hips back so you felt every vein, and he felt every ridge of you. Before he thrust back with force. "You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "You like being fucked like your owned?"

Bucky's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging deep into your skin. "I'm going to make you love it even more," he growled, his hips snapping forward with a fierce, brutal pace as he found a possessive rhythm "I'm going to make you scream my name, Doll. I'm going to make you beg for more."

You nodded, your eyes closed as you let the sensations wash over you.

"Yes, yes." you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

You felt his mouth on your neck, his teeth biting down as he marked you as his own. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "You'll never be anyone else's. You'll never want anyone else inside you, because you're mine, Doll. All mine."

As he spoke, his hips moved faster, his cock pounding into you at relentless pace. You felt your body start to build, the sensations coiling tight as you approached the edge.

"Please, Bucky," you whispered, your voice trembling with need, and like he'd told you you'd ask the word came "-more."

Bucky's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging deep into your skin. "You'll get more," he growled, his hips snapping forward with a fierce, brutal pace. "You'll get everything you need, Doll. Because you're mine, and I'll give you everything you want."

As he spoke, his mouth moved to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Now, ask me for more," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Ask me to fuck you harder, Doll. Ask me to make you come."

You felt your voice rise up, a desperate, pleading cry. "FUCK! Please wanna cum" The words tumbled out of you, a raw, unbridled expression of your need.

Bucky's response was immediate, his hips surging forward with a fierce, animalistic intensity. His cock pounded into you, each stroke a brutal, merciless claim of ownership. You felt your body begin to shatter, the tension building to a fever pitch as he fucked you with every ounce of strength he possessed.

"Fuck doll!" he growled, his voice a low, savage snarl. "My girl!"

The words were a spark to dry tinder, and your body erupted into flames. You felt yourself come apart, your orgasm a screaming, thrashing, utterly helpless thing. Bucky's grip tightened, his arms crushing you against him as he buried his face in your neck. His own release followed, a hot, pulsing flood that filled you to the brim. You felt his body shudder, his muscles locking up as he came, his cock still surging into you with a frantic, possessive intensity.

You were completely, utterly his. Every touch, every kiss, was a declaration, a promise that you were his and his alone. You felt your heart, your soul, your very identity become tangled up in his, until you couldn't tell where you ended and he began.

As the storm subsided, leaving you trembling and gasping in his arms, you knew that you would never be the same. Afterward, as the adrenaline faded and the room fell silent, Bucky pulled you close, his arms wrapping securely around you. His metal arm was cool against your back, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. The steady rhythm of his breathing began to calm your own, your head resting on his chest where you could hear the faint, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions.

He finally broke it, his voice rough but soft. “I couldn’t stand it. Seeing him touch you. Seeing you smile at him, even if it wasn’t real. It drove me crazy.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your fingers tracing gentle patterns over the faint stubble on his jaw. “It was just the mission, Bucky. You know that, right?”

His blue eyes met yours, the raw vulnerability there making your chest tighten. “I know,” he admitted, his lips brushing against your temple. “But it doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, your voice a whisper. “I’m here now. With you.”

His grip tightened slightly, as if afraid to let go. “You’re mine, Doll. Always.”

And in the quiet stillness of the bedroom in the safehouse, you felt the truth of his words settle over you like a promise-one you knew he would never break. His lips brushed against your temple as he murmured, “You’re mine, Doll. Always.”

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