#best friend steve rogers x reader

[witchywithwhiskey]

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve���s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[veltana]

No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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[eloquentlytired]

18+ mdni

— friendly comfort.

pairing: bff! steve rogers x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: lots of smut — car sex — best friends — unprotected sex — breeding — fingering — soft ending

summary: you and steve are the type of best friends who comfort each other differently than others.

nothing could separate you and steve ever since you two met. it was like an instant click of an infinite bond — one that wouldn’t break anytime soon — and this was something both of you proudly carried around. at some point it was a peculiar friendship although you didn't flaunt what was happening around; it was something you and steve wanted to keep to yourselves...because no one else would be able to understand it.

“you really cancelled your blind date for me?” you asked while laying to your side in the front seat of his car. steve’s car was an old model and the driver's seat was connected to the passenger's seat so you could easily use it to your advantage and lie down.

steve simply nodded and hissed as he looked down, his eyes admiring the way your lips stretched around the tip of his soft cock before taking him in all the way. he knew what would follow as you held whatever you could in your mouth and laid your head on his lap. it had become a routine for you two to drive somewhere secluded and do this; whereas you relax with your best friend’s cock resting in your mouth while he did something to *his* liking.

in steve’s case, he would simply stay seated in the driver's seat while using one of his hands to raise your short skirt — you would never wear skirts but he had quickly realized you were only doing it around him — and slipped his hand underneath. “of course I did. you're my best friend.” steve replied simply and pulled your panties to the side, his fingers purposely ghosting over your bare pussy. “you’re my priority.” he said and slid a finger past your entrance, the sudden stretch causing you to gasp softly as his cock hardened in your mouth.

there was silence for the most part and perhaps it was due to the fact you two felt too anxious to talk while doing something that was considered unusual in friendships. steve certainly didn't seem as anxious as you did while pumping three digits inside your cunt and losing himself in each intimate reaction and wet sound. it was embarrassing how loud your pussy was — the deeper he pumped his fingers, the more you'd drip around him. “steve!” you lifted one of your legs as he comfortably pressed his arm between your spread thighs and thrusted his fingers faster into your tightness, and the sounds that emitted from your body were just so dirty. you wiggled a little, feeling even more embarrassed, and your shy hands reached for steve’s working wrist to force it still. “stevie—” but your cries fell on deaf ears as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, his rough palm occasionally brushing against your swollen clit while steve stared at your face. he seemed to silently enjoy every reaction you kept for his skillful hands.

“are you happy I didn't go on my blind date?” steve suddenly asked and began moving his fingers with some profound favor, curling them and brushing against a sensitive bulge of nerves that had your back arching and your toes curling. you nodded, mouth gaping and drooling all over his lap as he assaulted your weeping pussy like he owned it. perhaps he did. “say it. say you're happy I chose to cancel the date and come here to fuck your pussy.” he wasn't usually this honest and vulgar but you knew how tonight would be extremely different; he had seemed much more eager and sensitive than the previous times you did this.

this only turned you on and you whimpered softly while pushing your hips back against his hand. “i’m happy you chose to cancel the date—” you slurred between words with pleasure being the single care in your mind for the time being. steve himself couldn't register just how much you were dripping around his fingers and he purposely pulled them out before forcing them back inside. “a—and that you came here to fuck my pussy!” you cried out and steve‘s cock had turned completely hard inside your warm mouth.

you felt overwhelmed with pleasure as steve fingered your pussy and forcibly dragged his palm against your sensitive clit with each motion inwards. the slippery and wet sounds of his fingers stretching and thrusting into your abused hole were getting louder — steve could tell you were getting close because of the way your legs were stretched across the car seat, shaking.

a few more thrusts of his fingers and you could've orgasmed if not for steve pulling his hand away entirely. you looked at him to protest but he was already pushing you on your back and climbing on top of you in a predatory manner. he took hold of your ankles and dragged you close to him like a ragdoll before wordlessly burying himself between your spread legs, his cock poking at your entrance. “don’t have a condom,stevie—” your words died down as he slipped his bare cock inside you and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, basking in the unfamiliar sensation. you had never taken him raw before, both of you always being extra cautious, but he had surprised you again tonight.

your pussy clenched around him, sucking him in greedily as steve bottomed out. you felt safe underneath his larger body as he placed his elbows next to each side of your head and suddenly dragged his cock out of your pussy entirely leaving you empty. “I missed you.” steve growled out before slamming his cock back into you and started building a frantic rhythm with his hips. you moaned in response and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him for dear life.

there was unusual desperation and possessives in his movements as steve fucked you, stretching your tight heat with fast and deep thrusts. your body jolted underneath his with each motion of his hips — he was rough but you didn't mind. you loved the way he looked at you as well, as if you were his only means of feeling this good. “fuck.” he cursed as your cunt squeezed him tightly. your legs shook around his waist when he hit a certain spot inside you with his fat cock — one that had you seeing stars. he simply knew he had to keep poking and thrusting into that sensitive,tight space as your pussy wept around him and drove him mad.

there was a moment where your noses brushed and you felt his breath against your lips in the most intimate manner. “there— right there,stevie.” you whispered and he followed your pleas like a prayer, digging deeper into that spot of your crying cunt with his cock. you were close, and he knew it too, as steve fucked you senseless against the seat with your mouths barely touching. at one point, you didn't want to let the situation be and you stretched your neck slightly to press a kiss onto his lips. after that steve let go completely.

one of his arms remained planted next to your head so it could keep his body from crashing onto yours. his other hand moved to rub your swollen clit while he pistoned his hips expertly against yours, hitting your sweet spot directly. you couldn't form any coherent words or actions as your orgasm washed over you, making your an entire submissive mess. your pussy came around steve’s cock while squeezing him in a suffocating manner that he could barely hold in his own orgasm.

much to his surprise, you tightened your legs around his waist as he fucked you. “ ‘m so close,baby. gonna come.” steve said through gritted teeth and pinched your oversensitive clit as a warning but it wasn't enough to make you stop. he pulled his head back to look at you as you clenched around his cock *on purpose* and urged him to come inside. steve growled, “fine. you want it like that then you take it like that.” he suddenly wrapped his fingers around each of your arms and he thrusted for one last time before shooting his load inside you, stuffing your pussy with his cum. he tugged you down by your arms while his hips kept pushing impossibly higher as if to make sure that his cum would reach the deepest part of your pussy. this action alone had your body spasming underneath steve’s but he held you in place, reassuring whispers falling immediately from his lips.

you two didn't drive off immediately. steve held you in his lap for quite a while, one of his hands barely grazing your bare pussy while the other stroke your hair. there was always this moment after having sex with him where you would silently gaze at each other. no words needed. you'd cup his face in return and stroke his beard, commenting about how much it had grown everytime and that you were staring to like it more and more.

“I love you.” It was you who would usually break the silence one way or another but it was steve’s job to keep it going. “Say it again.” He’d whisper.

And you did.

author’s note: I hope u guys like this !! please leave a like and a reblog if you enjoyed reading this!! I hope to see u again☺️🩷 AND I RLLY LOVE COMMENTS & DISCUSSIONS !!

[fandoms--fluff]

Perfectly Fine

Female reader x Wanda Maximoff (+other avengers)

Summary: Everyone is against you for wanting to have a lazy morning, including your best friend.

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You groan as the warmth around you is ripped away. Turning your head to see the cause, your eyes land on Wanda. She has your dark red soft and comfy and warm blanket in her hands.

"Whyyy" You complain, shoving your head back into your pillow. "Nat said to get you out of bed, and I'd rather not be on her bad side. So come on, up and at em" She lays your blanket on your desk chair across the room.

"And breakfast is ready" She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. That got you to spring up.

But then you paused. "Did Tasha cook?" You raise an eyebrow, your hair sticking out in numerous places. "God, no. Steve did" Wanda chuckles.

"Okay, good" You nod and slowly get out of bed. You yelp when your feet touch the ice cold floor.

"Get dressed and I'll meet you down in the kitchen" Wanda starts walking towards the door. "Nah, im good with what I have on" You stride up next to her.

"Are you sure?"

You look down at your tie dye pajama t shirt and shorts. "Yep" You shrug, walking out of your room.

Wanda shakes her head, smiling as she follows you down to the kitchen where everyone else is.

You walk into the kitchen where all the food is on big serving plates and bowls. Just as you're about to grab one of the plates from the stack, someone has to ruin the moment.

"What are you wearing?" Tony asks incredulously. Of course he's dressed head to toe in most likely way too expensive clothing.

"Pajamas" You glare at him, just wanting food. First, you got waken up way to early than you would've liked, and now you're being distracted from getting food.

"Shouldn't you change into something more...professional?" Steve asks from where he's sat at the kitchen table in one of the many chairs.

"Oh please, this is perfectly fine outerwear" You raise your arms up before picking up a pancake with your hand and taking a bite out of it.

"What? Have anything else to criticize about me?" You exclaim, after you swallow. Then you see the looks on everyones faces, including Wanda.

"You know what don't answer that," You grab a plate and pile food onto it before sitting next to Wanda at the table. "Traitor" You grumble before taking another bite of your pancake.

She chuckles, "Yeah, I'm such a bad friend," she says sarcastically. You lean your head against her shoulder and bring your plate up, offering her food. She grabs a strawberry and bites into it, making a soft crunching noise.

After she swallows, she places a kiss on top of your head, chuckling against at how your hair is still sticking up in places. "Oh shush," You grumble, knowing exactly what she's on about.

[jen-with-a-pen]

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold. 

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you. 

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–” 

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop. 

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.” 

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for. 

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family. 

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked. 

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him. 

It was then, everything came crashing down. 

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip. 

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home. 

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?” 

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone. 

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake. 

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind. 

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him. 

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve. 

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able. 

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him. 

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin. 

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners. 

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs. 

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend. 

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room. 

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it. 

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee. 

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards. 

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve. 

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach. 

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind. 

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready 

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs. 

“Fuck.”

You opened the door. 

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you. 

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.” 

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed. 

He was what you needed. 

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock. 

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. 

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?” 

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety. 

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–” 

You felt tears again. 

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!” 

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat. 

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you. 

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there. 

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years. 

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn. 

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over. 

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision. 

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.” 

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating. 

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you. 

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding. 

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed. 

You crashed together. 

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. 

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?” 

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild. 

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓪

Part🥀

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Plus size! Fem!Reader (no mention of ethnicity)

Summary: Trapped in a prison of your husband and your mother��s expectations, your only comfort is the ghost in your garden, haunted by the memory of your best friend.

You thought you would never see him again but when he unexpectedly returns home from the war after 12 years, you’re not prepared for what’s to come.

wc: 6k

Warnings: Feminism doesn’t exist in this fic,  the story is set between 1950-1965, fertility issues, detailed mention of miscarriage, body shaming (not from Steve), implied boner and handjob, violence, terms of endearment (I got carried away jsjs), detailed sexual abuse attempt (not from Steve), domestic violence, flashbacks and small time jumps (I hope it’s not confusing lmao), changing POVs (again, I hope it’s not confusing lmao), please let me know if I missed anything! more warnings to be added in part II.

a/n: This is my entry to @witchywithwhiskey 's Slasher Summer writing challenge, with the prompts: small town and stalker. I've poured my heart and soul into this fic, I had so many ideas I had to cut the fic in half so part two will be posted next week (but it won't be part of the wc given that it ends today hehe) I hope you like it 👉🏼👈🏼

This is not beta'd any and all mistakes are my own.

“Move” your mother reprimanded.

You wanted to, you did, but your body wouldn’t listen, your chest was so heavy you felt trapped under the covers.

The sky was so blue, it reminded you of the blue puppies you once had in the garden. You cried all night when you came home from a trip to find them wilted and forgotten by your husband, they were the same shade as those eyes… every time you tended to them, it was like he was looking at you.

“Speak! Do something!” she hissed, the blue sundown behind her, tainted the room slate, and her black eyes became even darker. You noticed as she screamed in your face that her breath smelled of cigarettes, normally you’d be cowering in fear or trying to appease her but you remained frozen not even blinking.

Letting out a snort she wipes the sweat off your forehead with a cloth, “Look at yourself”, the woman grimaced, did you truly look so ghastly? 

You wished she would just leave you, your mother was a busy woman, she had other things to do than take care of you… you hate to bother her.

“if you get any bigger people will know”, you vaguely hear her words,  you tried to care but the sky was so beautiful, so peaceful, something you appreciated given your current state. Your whole body ached and nausea kept you awake every night, you were exhausted, and yet sleep never came.

“You reap what you sow darling, you must've done something to dese- You should be thanking God John hasn’t left you yet! he won’t put up with this for long, he wants a wife, not this” Her hand points to you in bed with a scowl on her lips.

Tears start streaming down your face, you wish the shadows in your room swallowed you. As saliva gathers in your tongue you feel like you’re about to throw up but your body still wouldn’t move. 

She’s still rambling on about your failures as a woman, pacing around the room, so you take a frame from under your pillow, it was a photo of him and you.

Sophomore year, both of you sat on a bench just outside of your high school, he looked so handsome, you remember it well. Right after fall break, he wore a wool waistcoat that was much bigger for his skinny figure, and his hair was perfectly combed.

Both of you smiled from ear to ear, he was hunched over while you sat up straight with your knees resting on his.

It felt like it was a lifetime ago, instead of 12 years, you didn’t particularly enjoy high school, but Steve Rogers made it memorable.

Once upon a time you lived in the same neighborhood since you were 8 years old, the first time you saw him he was having an asthma attack as he crashed his bike into some trash cans. You ran to his side and quickly introduced yourself, his scrawny hand shook yours back before you took the white ribbon from your dress and pressed it against his bleeding forehead.

He instinctively reached for his head and your fingers grazed him for just a second, eyes so focused on yours, you realized he was scared, so your other hand reached to comfort him… sometimes you think you’ve held hands ever since, and neither of you could let go.

You couldn’t be separated even if your parents threatened and bargained, inseparable would be an understatement. After the accident, Steve found a kindred spirit and comfort in your friendship, while you discovered fierce loyalty and kindness. 

It was strange that, at such a young age you felt drawn to Steve, and you knew he did too, as children it only made you want to spend every second of every day together.

You’d spend summers, riding your bikes all over town despite your mother’s scorn, listening to Billie Holiday records in Grandma Rogers’ dusty old house, reading in the library until it closed, playing tag in his living room while his mother baked in the kitchen, hiding in his basement every time your dad picked you up. 

When the days you spent together weren’t enough, you begged for sleepovers, your sister had them all the time after all, but your mother thought it improper for a boy to sleep over, so eventually, you fashioned a sheet rope for Steve to climb once everyone had gone to bed, and then he’d sleep by your side.

Some nights you’d whisper what you imagined the past was like, both of you were passionate about history, sometimes Steve would caress your hair while you sobbed into his shoulder, cursing to hell all belts, but most nights you would stay silent, holding hands until you fell asleep, once the sun was up, Steve’s side of the bed was always empty.

This went on for years, even in high school, your love for each other only grew, despite the silly arguments like you spending more time studying than with Steve, or him always getting a black eye never knowing when to stand down. 

The both of you knew this was forever, and there was nothing you could do or say that would make either of you leave.

You tried getting out of his hold, squirming and pushing, if it were anyone else you’d be suffocated, “G-osh Stevie for someone so lean, you sure are strong” you huffed and puffed.

“If my mother finds us cuddling she’ll never let you see me again” You laughed, but you weren’t kidding, young ladies were never to engage in inappropriate behavior with boys your mother would always tell you.

“Yeah, I’d like to see her try” Steve grunted, almost possessively, his arms only squeezing you further into his chest, you couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t because of his bruising hold, chills went down your spine, and butterflies flew in your stomach.

You chose to ignore his comment and what it made you feel, “We have to go soon, Bucky won’t wait for us forever and he’s our ride”, finally you felt Steve’s arms relax but his hands remained on your back, rubbing it.

Catching him off guard, you free yourself and jump out of bed, quickly running to your mirror to check if your hair still looks good and to your relief it does. As you turn back you catch a glimpse of him adjusting his pants which makes your cheeks burn hot, you didn’t understand why that made you proud, and it isn’t the first time it’s happened, but Steve reassured you it was normal…

You weren’t brave enough to ask him if it was normal that you wanted to touch it.

As you walk out to your porch, Steve’s hand reaches for yours, “Promise you won’t stray too far from me, God knows what kind of people Tony invites to his parties”, his eyes search yours for something, you don’t know what, so you nod while your thumb caressed his knuckles, Bucky was already on your driveway honking the horn without any regard for your neighbors. 

“You’re lucky my parents are out of town Barnes!” you laugh as Steve opens the door for you, once everyone has their seat belts on, per your request, you head to Stark Manor.

After a short drive, you enter Tony Stark's ancestral home, it seems like the whole high school was invited. You never liked parties all that much, and neither did Steve but you thought socializing with other people besides each other would do you good, your mother insisted on it.

Swallowing a nervous gulp, you instinctively reached for Steve’s hand, just for a few seconds but then Peggy Carter jumped into his arms with a red smile and an even more gorgeous red dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

She was an exchange student, she was relatively new to the school but she quickly befriended your little group of friends, with her London charm and wit.

Your heart sank to your stomach and a knot formed in your throat when you saw his hands on her sides. Why were you jealous? he’s your friend you had to remind yourself, Steve couldn’t always be by your side, you knew this… and yet you couldn’t help the sickness brewing deep in your stomach when Peggy’s hands roamed all over Steve.

It was obvious Peggy liked him, but Steve’s reluctance to take her hand gave you a moment of relief, but then he was gone, lost in the sea of people. You hugged yourself as you considered asking Bucky to take you back home, but he already had his tongue down Dot’s throat.

Against your better judgment and Steve’s warnings, you found yourself in the bar, admiring all the bottles of liquor that came in different shapes and sizes, the one called Unicum caught your attention but as soon as you smelled it, you put it away.

“Not a fan I take it?” a voice comes from behind, following it, you find the host himself wearing a black turtle neck along with a blazer that hugs him just right, his brown eyes slowly studying you while he takes a sip of his drink.

Putting back the bottle, you chastised yourself for picking it up in the first place, “I’m sorry, this is expensive, I shouldn’t have touched it, I’m- I’m sorry” you sputtered.

You were nervous, but you realized you liked the attention, Tony was every girl’s dreamboat and the fact that his eyes were so focused on your body was thrilling.

With a sly smirk, he walks closer to you, “Don’t you worry Honeybun, that’s my father’s drink, break the damn thing if you want” he chuckled, “You’re Rogers’ little pet, aren’t you? he leave you all alone?”, he sounded a little drunk already.

Before you could get mad at his nickname, his arm wrapped itself around your waist “I think you’re a sweet-tooth Honeybun, you’re going to love Grasshoppers” he stated, without giving you a chance to refuse.

You were delighted to find out you did love the creamy drink, and after a few of them, Tony started to be less annoying to you, and if you squinted you could pretend he looked like Tony Curtis.

You missed Steve, where is he?

As Tony dragged you to the dance floor, squished between the crowd of drunk classmates, you started to feel suffocated and Tony’s grip on your wrist was starting to hurt, but your head was so fuzzy, and the room was so loud, he probably couldn’t even hear your protest.

Tony finally stops, his hands wander down your back until they’re on your waist, and his fingers dig into your dress, making your heart skip a beat, as he starts swaying you, Steve emerges from the sea of dancing silhouettes.

His smile of relief drops when he sees another man’s hands around your waist, you almost push Tony away in response, but you just put on your best smile.

 “H- Hey I’ve been looking all over for you”, Steve says, his tone is friendly but his eyes darken when Tony pulls you closer to him, making you trip a little, you didn’t have your wits about you, and Steve notices.

“Baby I need to get you home” he almost pleaded, you’re shocked he called you the nickname he only used when you’re alone, his perfect blue eyes had… longing in them? that couldn’t be right, especially when you discover the mark of red lips on his cheek, making your blood boil.

“I don’t want to leave Steve, I’m- I’m having fun with… T-Tony”, you tried to sound unyielding but you could feel the tension rise between the two men, you were never good with confrontation.

“You heard her little man, you shouldn’t have left her all alone if you didn’t want someone to steal her from you”, Tony says matter-of-factly.

Your best friend looks stoic, not moving a muscle, he looks intimidating despite Tony being much taller than him. He’s one step away from invading Tony’s space, but you’re quick to place your hand on his chest, and you immediately feel him relax, his eyes soften too when he turns to you.

“Go back to Peggy, I’m sure she’s waiting for you” is all you say with a wavering smile.

His hand wants to reach for you but all he does is nod before he disappears into the crowd, you’re a little disappointed. The rest of the night is eternal, your feet grow sore, and you had your 4th grasshopper a minute ago so your mind is comfortably numb, but every time Tony gropes your hips, or his fingers trace your cheeks, you feel guilt deep in your stomach, and to your dismay the party only seems to intensify.

As you slow danced you tried to ignore how dizzy you felt, but when the song ended you couldn’t help but let your weight fall into Tony’s arms, he just laughed and reaffirmed his hold on you “C’mon Honeybun don’t tell me you’re sleepy, night’s young! I want to show you something”.

You felt him move you before you could even respond, “Wh-where are we going Steve?” you slurred, not realizing you called him by another name, your question was met with silence, Tony just kept on pulling you across the grand hall.

“I want to show you the pretty flowers in the garden Honeybun, no one will bother us” his smile was wide but it did nothing to ease you, he shushed you while you tried to voice your thoughts.

You felt watched… the night breeze flew by your dress and your skin prickled, but it wasn’t because of the night chill. You were too busy admiring the pastoral landscape to worry, your eyes followed the tree-lined path up to a beautiful pond, with pink roses everywhere, but before you could take a step forward, you were being pushed up against a stone wall.

“Ow! Tony what-” His lips crushed yours before you could finish your sentence, he tasted bitter and unwanted, you tried pushing him away but you were weak, the alcohol in you like heavy chains around your arms and legs.

“Don’t you wanna make me feel good Honeybun?” he slurred in your ear, your stomach filled with dread, you almost gagged, “please stop” you begged, but his hand brutishly covered your mouth “Shut up” he spat while his assault continued down your neck, you could hear his belt coming off and alarms went off in your head, a scared whimper managed to escape his hand.

The party was roaring inside, and the music was muffled by the stone walls, you were sure no one would hear your screams, you sobbed at the realization. You were about to accept your fate but then Tony’s thrown back by the neck and into the dirt, it was Steve! 

Before you could react he was already on top of Tony pummeling him without compassion, animalistic grunts escaping his lips as his knuckles bloodied themselves.

“You don’t fucking touch her!” Steve growled, “You’re going to wish you were dead you piece of shit”, the hits kept coming, and you couldn’t stop watching, it was horrifying watching your best friend become this violent, controlled by his dark impulses, but a small part of you, a part of you that you wouldn’t acknowledge felt satisfaction, pride even…

Tony had been unconscious for a minute now and Steve wouldn’t stop, you were surprised he wasn’t having an asthma attack by now, the sickening sound of his fist meeting beaten flesh brought you out of your thoughts, you quickly ran to Steve to make him stop.

You grabbed his bloody fist in the air “Steve stop, you’re going to kill him” you cried, both of you heaving, you sensed Steve was making an effort to hold back, the blue in his eyes was almost gone, with only rage in them, “He should be six feet under just for putting his hands on you” he gruffed, you didn’t know how to respond so you only nodded, taking his hands in yours, and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Seeing your blood-stained lips made him feel unlike anything he’d ever felt before, a sense of ownership pleasantly lingered, but as he searched to see if you were harmed, your tear-streaked face made him move off Tony, and take you in his arms, the warmth radiating from him finally calmed you enough to let yourself feel the terror of what could’ve happened to you.

You let it all out onto Steve’s shoulder like you’ve done countless times before… except this was different, you’ve always felt safe with Steve, but after tonight, you also felt protected.

“I won’t let anybody touch you again baby” he lulls, your arms wrap around his neck and instinctively you rub off on his chest, needing to be as close to him as possible, his scent already soothing your soul.

“I promise”, he whispers in your ear and kisses your temple with such tenderness you barely feel his lips… everything is going to be ok.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice,

then kiss me once again 

It’s been a long, long time 

Haven’t felt like this, my dear since I

can’t remember when

It’s been a long, long time 

          ♫ ♪

“He’s back in town” Peggy repeats after you remained silent for an awkward amount of time, you just couldn’t stop replaying this one song in your head…

“Did you even hear what I said?” Peggy’s annoyance startles you, making you drop the cup of tea you were nursing.

She rolls her eyes at you, while she grabs a dishtowel to wipe the spilled liquid, “Steve Rogers is back” she deadpans, carefully observing your reaction.

“So sad Sarah isn’t here to welcome him back home” you whispered, tears threatening to spill at the memory of the woman who took care of you for so long, far more tender than your mother ever was to you.

“Honorably discharged” she continued, probably not even hearing your comment “They even made him a Captain, can you imagine? I-”.

She keeps on talking but it’s all muffled noise to your ears, your mind running a million miles per hour. 

Would you give him a call? 

how much can war change a man? 

would he call you? 

what would you say if you bumped into each other at the supermarket? God, John doesn’t even know about him.

Knowing Steve was home rekindled the heartache you managed to bury in the back of your mind every single day, it took everything in you not to start crying every time you remembered his broken promise, but you learned a long time ago that it was best to keep your emotions under lock and key.

The sound of running water finally distracted you from your consuming thoughts, “Hon are you sure you’re up for visitors?” Peggy sings with faux concern as she does the dishes, “I know you’re still not over the incident but I have to agree with your mother, you need to try harder, this is not normal, when I was preg-”

Willing yourself not to throw the porcelain cup at her head, you grinned, “Maybe we’ll see Steve at the reunion, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you Peggy”, you sassed behind your stiff smile, but of course, she didn’t notice. Her reaction only confirmed what you suspected, like a little girl her ears perked up and her cheeks turned bright red “It’ll be so good to see everyone again” Peggy tried to conceal her excitement.

“I’m sure your husband will enjoy seeing everyone too” you reminded her, too tired to play nice with her.

Peggy’s eyes widen “You see, I don’t think Tony will be able to attend… you know how he is, always work work work” she laughs nervously.

You know better than that, Tony Stark was a sleazy drunk, you knew it since that night back in high school, but as the years passed, Tony’s attempts to hide his transgressions were feeble, by now the whole town knew every time he went away for business to New York City, he was on a bender gambling, drinking and sowing his wild oats, but Tony’s wealth and power always kept him out of trouble.

“Of course, I’m sure he’ll be back from his business trip just in time for the reunion” You pleasantly smiled before getting up and cutting up a piece of pink azalea cake for her to take back home, far, far away from you.

Once Peggy’s gone you start your chores, it was always the same, wash John’s clothes and press them, hang them by the door for the next day, then clean the windows, wash the curtains, scrub the floors until they’re shining, and never mop, last time you did your husband almost burned your books. Dust his trophy cabinet, sweep the garage, and finally make dinner and keep it in the oven so it’s warm when your husband comes home.

After finishing everything up to John’s liking, you always end up in your garden, the joy of your life besides a good book.

Your garden wasn’t grand or exotic like the other housewives’ gardens, Peggy would often say it was dull or pitiful or both, but in your eyes, it was precious and full of life. 

From hybrid phlox, peonies, and hydrangeas to blue holly bushes, you took care of them with love and tenderness, your garden was your comfort in your darkest days, sometimes the only thing you looked forward to in your day.

But your roses… they were your most prized possession, every day without fail you tended to them, making sure they were safe and felt cared for, sometimes you would even sing to them, your roses were your babies, you could never forsake them like he did you.

You cried as you fertilized the earth for your youngling, your tears fell on the little sprout right next to the other roses, now in full bloom. 

Your mind wandered 9 years back to when you first married John. You couldn’t fight your mother any longer, for years you rejected any suitor she brought, doctors, lawyers, professors, none of them compared to the one person you truly loved. Despite your mother’s constant denial, you hoped Steve would safely return and finally admit the feelings you knew he had for you, and take you far away… 

But it was a silly fantasy, he never wrote, not once since you said goodbye that September night, so long ago, you hated him for it, you never understood why he abandoned you like that, you only knew he was alive because of the letters he sent to his mother, but his beautiful eyes haunted you at night, and when you didn’t dream of him you resented him for it.

Then your mother arranged a date with John Walker, he was young, easy on the eyes, and set to inherit his grandfather’s sugar company which was said to be a very wealthy prospect. He wasn't particularly sweet or charming but his easy-going smile helped you ease your nerves.

The first thing he did when he saw you was take your hand and plant a kiss on your knuckles, he was sturdy and his posture was always rigid, but he had this suave confidence that made you think he owned the entire world.

He offered stability and comfort when you needed it the most, so you forced yourself to love him, you told yourself that he would be a good husband despite not knowing his faults or even his traits,... Steve wasn't coming back, so you decided to trust your mother's judgment.

The first year of your marriage you came to accept the fact that as hard as you tried, you would never feel the same way for your husband as you did for your best friend, but life with John had become comfortably dull. 

You never thought your life would turn like it did… 

As you adapted to married life, you found out John’s easy going smile was a facade, he was strict and expected certain things of you. To please him in every possible aspect, that was a wife's duty after all, he'd turn mean and a brute if you failed in your duties but if you followed the rules, he would leave you be to read your books and tend to the garden. You learned the hard way if he came home to find his clothes wrinkly or God forbid the floors mopped instead of scrubbed, you would suffer the consequences.. 

Eventually, you learned to appease his ego and keep your head down, your days went out painfully slow, and you would dread every time the hands of the clock slowly approached the time of his return, each day you wondered what new insult John had prepared to make you feel inadequate. 

Thinking his temper would placate once you carried his child was naive, you realize that now. The first time you got pregnant you were ecstatic to love someone with your whole heart and soul, and for your love to be returned, but soon there was nothing to tell.

It was difficult to keep it a secret from your husband, like your mother, he crushed you under his expectations, the weight of them almost unbearable, and both, always made sure you knew the disappointment that you were.

But missing his smell, the comfort he provided, missing Steve was the most painful.

Tonight was your high school reunion and you couldn’t stop pacing around the living room, it was almost time to leave and you were still waiting for John to come home and change. Given that it was summer, the nights were hotter so you wore a sleeveless, wide-skirt baby-pink dress, adorned with white lace, pearl earrings, and white gloves as the finishing touch.

You were about to call his office when you heard the car park in the driveway. Too anxious to wait for him, you ran outside ready to greet him with a scotch, “Welcome home dear, please hurry, I left your clothes on the bed. If we leave in five minutes no one will noti-”

John slams the car door before you can finish your sentence, “We’re not going” is all he says without sparing you a look, taking the scotch from your hand and drinking it in one gulp.

“Please John, don’t be like this” you protested, “you said we could-”

“For fucks sake!” your husband snapped, his hand hit the hood of his black Chevrolet Impala, making you jump scared, he treated that car like his baby… the alarms in your head cautioned you to choose your words carefully.

“J-John please, be reasonable, let’s go inside I’ll make you another drink” you pleaded, afraid the neighbors would hear you arguing, the street was busy with kids riding their bikes and people coming in and out of their homes.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” he barked out your name like an insult, his body shaking with anger he had to clench his fists, he took a step forward and you recoiled, making him huff in offense.

He took your wrist with force and jerked you towards him, making you tumble on your heels, “Stop being so dramatic” he reprimanded. You didn’t mean to upset him but you didn’t want to go alone, you couldn’t! John had promised weeks ago he would go.

“I fired over 50 of my best workers because they thought they could do whatever they wanted, I will teach you a fucking lesson too if you keep pushing me” he threatened with malice, tears threatened to spill, you didn’t want to look at him but his hand forced your chin up.

You instinctively shook your head, too afraid to even speak, that only fed his ego and in a second he was dragging you through the pavement and into the house, a sick smile displayed on his face. 

“John you’re hurting me” you panicked, holding onto his arms for some support, as he kicked the door close, he dropped you on the carpet of the living room, you almost hit your head against the tube.

Your husband’s chest heaves above you and before he can touch you again you quickly get on your knees with your head looking up, trying your hardest to make eye contact with the man you feared “I’m sorry!” you repeated over and over, the knot in your throat making it painful to speak.

After a long silence, you see his features relax, you’re flabbergasted by his swift change of attitude, his smile slowly widens and you flinch when his fingers wipe a single tear “That’s what I like to hear Sugar”. 

“You know what I think?” he continued,  “You should be at home trying to get pregnant and start our family instead of running off to a party and see some moron you used to be friends with”.

Nausea overwhelmed you at his implication but your mind spun at the mention of Steve, how on earth did he know about him?! Maybe you weren’t as discreet as you thought.

A stabbing pain on your wrist interrupted your thoughts and you reached for it, John comically pouts “I’m so sorry Sugar, work was just so stressful” he sighed while helping you stand up, your scrapped knees shake as you find your balance. You couldn’t be in the same room as him anymore, but your body wouldn’t move, he didn’t like it when you refused to look at him, so he tilted your chin up.

“Tell you what, I’ll let you go to this thing… I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”, he grinned, pulled you close to him and kissed your forehead, making your body tense.

You desperately wanted to push him off of you, and you almost did, but it wasn’t a good idea to piss him off further, after tonight, you weren’t sure how far your husband’s cruelty could go. 

“I need to call Peggy” stated, your voice meek, too afraid he would change his mind, “so they can come to pick me up” you clarify, taking John’s silence as your cue, you took a hesitant step back, and briskly walked to the phone in the kitchen, thankful you had some space from him.

After the 5th ring, Peggy finally picked up and without getting into the details, you explained to her why you needed a ride to the reunion, to which she reluctantly agreed. As you waited, you cleaned the scrapes on your knees, if you put on stockings no one would notice, you quickly re-did your makeup and hair, and It wasn’t more than 15 minutes when you heard Peggy’s tootle.

You were almost out the door when John called your name, clearly asserting once more his power over you, letting out a shuddery breath, you turned to face him with your chin held high. 

“Get me a beer” he commanded, too entranced with the boob tube to even bother looking at you, the room went quiet and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears, you knew what he wanted from you. You wondered if you would ever be free of his torment, but the weight of your wedding ring reminded you of your vows…

Till death do us part.

So you plastered on a graceful smile, walked to the kitchen and returned with an opened can to place in his hand, with a smug smirk, he pats your ass, “off you go” he dismissed, and you promptly did.

The ride to the school was silent, Peggy didn’t question your vacant stare or why you kept rubbing your wrist, her mood seemed sour and you had no intention of untwisting that ball of yarn she called a brain.

As you walked in, you barely recognized the halls you used to walk every day, you remember Steve struggling to open his locker, Bucky flirting with anyone who wore a skirt, skipping Gym class so Steve wouldn’t be all alone in detention.

As you walked into the gym, you admired the decorations, balloons scattered all over the floor, red and pink confetti cascading down on everyone, glimmering under the soft light. You recognized some people but there was so much people, you weren’t even sure you went to class with some of them, the party was in full swing, and people danced as the band played your favorite song.

Never thought that you would be 

Standing here so close to me 

There’s so much I feel that I should say

But words can wait until some other day.

                       ♫ ♪

You are as beautiful as the day he lost you, Steve thought, from all the way across the room, you still hadn’t seen him but he saw you the moment you walked into the room, stealing the air from his lungs.

His heart aches so painfully to be near you he swears it could be a heart attack, he was frozen in place afraid that if he moved you’d disappear, he wonders how long it would take for him to win you back…

Something in you compels you to turn around, and when you do, a gasp escapes you… You couldn’t believe your own eyes, for a moment you didn’t recognize him, he was taller and incredibly broad, nothing like the man you saw last a decade ago, his posture was intimidating, but then you met his eyes, and those were the same. He truly was back, and all those emotions you kept under lock broke free, making your legs move forward before you could think, he immediately did too, and suddenly the both of you were running through the crowd to get to each other.

Without hesitation, you crashed into his arms, and he crushed you to him, easily picking you up, he was definitely stronger. Breathing him in, a sob almost escaped your lips, it was still the same after 12 years, the noise around you drowns out and it’s as if the earth stops spinning altogether… “I’m so sorry you lost your mom”, you whimper, it was the first thing you needed to say.

His hold only tightens, making it harder to breathe, memories of his suffocating embrace making you feel warm inside, you grip the nape of his hair for comfort, “I didn’t get to say goodbye” Steve whispers into your neck. Since you can remember, you always hated when he was heartbroken, his pain was your own, you wished you could take it away. 

“I know”, you nod, before he slowly lets you down, making you realize just how much the height difference is, it made you nervous.

His hands settle on your lower back while yours rest on the sides of his shoulders, you’re so close, he’s hunched over and you’re on your tiptoes, just inches away from his lips,  his nose nudges your own for a moment, making the butterflies in your stomach wild, you feel drawn to each other like magnets. Steve’s leaning in, and like a bucket of cold water, you remember the last 12 years, you remembered how easily he abandoned you, breaking every promise he made to you.

You quickly turn your cheek and you can feel his disappointment boring into your head, taking a small step back, you hold his hand tightly, not redy to let him go yet, and you shake your head, silently telling him you couldn’t kiss him. 

The soldier had half a mind to grab and kiss you, remind you of what you meant to each other, after years and oceans apart he never stopped thinking about you. You both knew from the day  you met , you were his, and he wasn’t going to let anyone get in between the two of you ever again.

But before he could say anything, Peggy Carter approached them.

“Well well, look at you two chums getting reacquainted”, her smile was sickenly sweet, but her eyes told you, you were caught… How long had she been watching? you ask yourself as anxiety settles in your stomach, and then your husband’s words ring in your head.

“I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”.

Your heart beats incessantly against your chest, and your breathing becomes shallow, she was going to tell John, you realized… and you were terrified of what he would do.

To be continued… 

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged.

part 🥀🥀

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about: All the ass Bucky kicked on your behalf growing up. Biker!Bucky x Bug (+brothers best friend Buck, plus sized reader)  Platonic Steve x Reader (He’s her adopted brother)

TW: Bullying, fat shaming, name calling, mentions of blood, violence While dealing primarily with their platonic relationship this is meant to offer some insight into Steve, Bucky, and Bug’s shared past. 

It’s not like he had to go out of his way, he would have, but most of the time he didn’t need to. No, Steve-shit-stirrer-Rogers had that part handled, because if it was your problem it was Steve’s problem, and if it was Steve’s problem it was Bucky’s problem, and Bucky had a lot of problems. Steve couldn’t help being a rather sickly teenager, but Jesus what he lacked in muscle he made up for in mouth, all piss and vinegar as Bucky’s Ma used to say; and as soon as the bullying started that mouth was constantly moving. To his credit Steve never asked for help, never asked for backup, he took his brotherly duty seriously and if that meant getting his ass handed to him five times a day so be it, he’d at least get one good punch in on the way down (occasionally…maybe…sometimes). 

In truth Bucky would have defended you regardless of your relationship to Steve, it’s just how he was raised, but you being his best friend's sweet (if not at times annoying) kid sister served to make it all the more personal. So when Steve stormed off to confront some assholes that had been moo-ing at you in the hallway he may have made sure their heads bounced off their lockers on the way to the floor (a few more times than necessary).  When he found out paint had been “accidentally” spilled all over your art project the asshole with the bucket couldn’t breathe without wincing for a week (neither could Steve who hadn’t bothered waiting on Bucky to start the fight). And when your first “real” boyfriend broke up with you because he liked your personality but not your body (“Maybe we could try again if you lost some weight?”) Bucky didn’t stop until his knuckles were bloody and the fucker was crying as hard as you’d been when you tearfully confsessed to Steve what had you so upset. Granted by that time Steve had built enough muscle mass and spent enough hours in the boxing gym to handle it himself but Bucky insisted Steve stay with you while he handled it. 

He’d spent the night in jail for that stunt, but it was worth it, no one made his Bug cry. Maybe if he’d paid more attention to that, that effortless inclusion of his, he would’ve seen the writing on the wall. Maybe it wouldn’t have taken so damn long for him to realize he loved you (and to say it). 

[crazyunsexycool]

Masterlist for the My Little Love Universe. These series revolves around three of our favorite fictional men, Bucky, Steve and Same. They each get their own story and this universe starts with Bucky’s.

My Little Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanched!Reader “Sugar”

Series Masterlist

Bucky was no longer the winter soldier. He was living freely and working with the Avengers. You were one of his closest friends and he was head over heels in love with you. The feeling was mutual. You liked Bucky the moment you met him but neither of you were willing to say anything yet. Everyday that passed, Bucky was able to remove himself more from what Hydra had done to him. Until a mission reveals that Hydra had been creating super soldier children and Bucky happened to be the father. With you by his side Bucky will learn to love and care for his kids. The love you have for each other blooms into a beautiful relationship. But Hydra isn’t happy that the next generation of super soldiers was taken from them and they’ll do whatever it takes to get them back.

Series warnings: major angst, fluff, smut, blood, medical emergencies, hydra, bad family relationships, mentioned child abuse, kidnapping, (please check individual chapters for warnings)

A Love As Sweet As Honey

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Scientist!Reader “Honey”

Series Masterlist

Steve wanted what his best friends had. He wanted love and family and peace. That’s wasn’t too much to ask for, right? Somewhere along the way Steve befriended Bruce’s lab assistant, you. You were guarded, slightly grumpy, you weren’t afraid to say what you were thinking and didn’t trust easily. That didn’t stop Steve from seeing more to you. He liked you and you liked him. While Steve didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had, you were afraid to let him see the more vulnerable part of you. However, after a night of drinking you wake up naked and next to each other. A drunken one night stand that will definitely put a strain on the friendship. Then you get a positive pregnancy test.

Series warnings: angst, fluff, smut, tears, unplanned pregnancy, talks of abortion, bad family dynamics, more to come… (read individual chapters for specific warnings)

A Love On Broken Wings

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Engineer!Reader “Sweets”

Series Masterlist

Sam Wilson had always wanted to fly. He wanted to help people and make a difference. When he saw the opportunity to become a pilot in the Air Force he took it. That choice would change his life forever. Not only would it lead him to become friends with and work along side the Avengers, he’d also met the love of his life. You also wanted to help people. Listening to your father tell stories from his time in the military and the limitations there were you wanted to created something that would change the way missions would be handled. That’s how you met the man that would steal your heart and break it.

Series Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, tears, character death, kidnapping, torture (see future chapters for warnings)

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

A/N: As always my permanent and series taglists are open. I will only add 18+ so please make sure you let me know if you are 18+ or that it’s on your blog!

[witchywithwhiskey]

a birthday ended with a bang

pairing: best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: your best friend picks you up for some ice cream on his birthday on the fourth of july and things escalate.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, sexual tension, kissing, dry humping/dry sex, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (sunshine, baby), aftercare, very quick friends to lovers

word count: 4.1k

a/n: ooof i have been suffering from the worst writer's block and i seriously didn't think i was gonna be able to post anything for steve's birthday, which would've made me so sad. i finally got through the worst of it i think, as of yesterday, but so this was written in a rush and i'm sorry if it's not very good but i tried!!!! anyway i hope everyone has a happy steve's birthday ❤️🤍💙

I’m picking you up in 10.

It was just after sunset on the Fourth of July, the sky still fading from a glowing indigo into the deep midnight blue of night, when the text from your best friend Steve Rogers came through. 

His text came as a surprise. Steve had been scheduled to work all day and he’d said he just wanted to go home and sleep after, so you hadn’t thought you’d see him. Instead, you had plans to celebrate his birthday on the weekend, but you’d have been a liar if you’d said you weren’t disappointed you wouldn’t get to see him on his actual birthday.

So you were excited by his text—but less so by the implication he would be taking you somewhere.

After all, you’d already gotten comfy and cozy in your bed, wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts you’d sleep in, and you didn’t want to get dressed again. Thankfully, you knew Steve wouldn’t care what you wore, but you were a nice friend, so as you dragged yourself out of your comfortable bed, you sent him a warning. 

i’m already in my pjs

By the time he replied, five minutes had already gone by. You’d managed to collect your keys and wallet from your bag, shoving them in a little wristlet that you looped around your arm as you stuffed your feet into some sandals. You read his text as you pushed through the door to your little cottage, prepared to wait the other five minutes for him in the cool July evening. 

Idc what you’re wearing. It’s my birthday and we’re getting ice cream.

You snorted a laugh, hearing your best friend’s bossy tone in your head, shaking your head to yourself at how much you loved it while you locked your door. Shoving your phone in your wristlet, you sat down on the top step of your porch and watched the neighborhood kids run through the yards along the street waving sparklers through the air.

Steve’s truck rolled to a stop in front of your small yard exactly 10 minutes after he’d texted you. An easy smile pulled up the corners of your mouth and you bounded down your wooden stairs, hurling yourself into the cab of your best friend’s truck.

“Happy birthday!” you cried as soon as you were inside. You tossed your wristlet on the dash and slid across the bench seat to throw your arms around Steve’s neck, hugging him tight while you pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. 

His low laugh was like warm honey trickling down your spine, his breath skimming past your cheek and making goosebumps raise all up and down your arms. Your heart thumped in your chest and you buried your face in your best friend’s shoulder, ignoring the way your body was reacting—like it always did when you got too close to Steve. 

Seemingly unaware of your plight, Steve’s hand settled on your forearm, squeezing softly before his warm palm slid up to your shoulder, his other arm digging into the seat and wrapping around your waist to haul you closer. You let out a little squeak of surprise, burying your face further in his shoulder to hide the fact that you were enjoying the way he held you far too much. 

“Thank you, sunshine,” Steve rumbled, resting his head on the crown of yours as he hugged you back. For a long, long moment, the two of you sat entwined together in Steve’s truck, just enjoying the feeling of being close, though you suspected it meant much more to you than it did to your best friend.

Finally, when you realized the hug might be getting weird, and bordering on something more-than-friendly, you extricated yourself from Steve, smiling up at him as you broke the quiet. “Let’s go get some ice cream,” you said, your voice a little lower and raspier than normal as you stared into his achingly familiar blue eyes. 

A grin spread slowly across Steve’s face, and you felt your heart beat unsteadily in your chest at the devastating handsomeness of the expression. But thankfully Steve looked away and your lungs spasmed, begging you to breathe, so you sucked in some air while your best friend grabbed a ball of fabric from the backseat of his truck.

“Here, I’ve got the windows down,” he said, pushing the garment into your hands. 

Only when you shook it out did you see it was one of Steve’s hoodies, the navy blue sweatshirt massive to fit over your best friend’s broad shoulders. On the front, to one side and below the collar, Steve’s name was stitched into the cotton. Your heart gave another flip at the thought of wearing Steve’s name stitched over your chest. 

“I don’t want you getting cold,” your best friend murmured, his voice lower and rougher. When you looked back at him, Steve wore an expression you couldn’t quite interpret, his gaze almost possessive. It made something low in your belly squirm.

Swallowing thickly, you turned your attention to tugging the hoodie over your head, inhaling the familiar scent of Steve’s cologne. For the brief moment when your face was hidden, you closed your eyes in pleasure, feeling your body heat—from more than just the warmth of the sweatshirt. Then you pulled the fabric down over your head and stuffed your arms into the sleeves.

The hoodie was big on you, but you loved the feel of it, and you smiled up at Steve to show your appreciation. Your best friend was wearing a pleased smirk, his eyes a little hooded as they raked over the sight of you in his sweatshirt. 

“Looks good on you, sunshine,” he rumbled, something new in his tone that you’d never heard before. 

“Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered shyly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You felt a little awkward under the weight of his gaze, his eyes feeling like they were burning you up from the inside out, so you gave your best friend a goofy grin and said, “Now’m all nice and toasty.” 

Steve snorted a laugh, which broke the tension between the two of you, the mood in the truck lightening instantly. Shaking his head and wiping a hand over his face, Steve turned back to the steering wheel, and shifted his truck into drive.

You started to move into the passenger seat, intent on buckling up, but Steve’s big hand shot out and he grabbed your thigh, just below where the hem of your pajama shorts ended. His palm was warm, his fingers slightly rough with callouses, and you were immediately, acutely aware of the fact that Steve had never, ever touched you there before.

Heat crashed through your core as you sucked in a gasp of surprise. Instinctively, your fingers closed around your best friend’s wrist, holding him where he was, making sure he kept touching you. You stared down at his hand, your mind spinning a little at the sight of him clutching your thigh.

Steve’s fingers dug lightly into your thigh, almost reflexively, like he couldn’t help himself from seeing just how soft you were beneath his hand. Before you could do more than squeak out a quiet sound of delight, though, Steve pulled away and cleared his throat. The fingers of the hand that had been touching you curled and flexed like he already missed your softness.

“Want you close,” Steve muttered, his tone almost apologetic, like was asking for forgiveness for grabbing you so suddenly. His eyes dropped to somewhere near your feet and you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Please, sunshine.” His plea was rough and so quiet you had a hard time hearing it over the sound of the fireworks your neighbors were setting off at random intervals.

“‘Course, Steve,” you said, your own voice soft and breathy, almost sounding sultry to your ears. You swallowed to wash away some of the throatiness, and tried to put on a light, friendly tone to steer you and Steve back to something normal—not whatever alternate universe you’d entered when you’d gotten in his truck. “You want birthday cuddles, you’ll get birthday cuddles.”

Steve let out a small snort and, as you watched, a tension you hadn’t realized had been there drained from his shoulders. Your best friend’s eyes raised back to yours, a flicker of something restless and reckless coursing through you while a small smirk tugged at the corners of his soft lips. 

“Yeah, sunshine, gimme some birthday cuddles.” 

When you’d said the words, they had sounded friendly, innocent even. But there was something in Steve’s voice that sent a shiver racing down your spine, heat simmering between your thighs. You told yourself he hadn’t intended his words to have such a reaction and pushed your body’s desirous response to the back of your mind as you shifted into the middle seat.

Carefully, you tucked yourself into Steve’s side, wrapping your arms around his bicep and clinging to him like he was your favorite stuffed animal. The bare skin of your leg brushed against the rough denim of his jeans and you trembled slightly, the sensation feeling far more erotic than it should. Steve’s hand landed on your leg just above your knee.

It was, ostensibly, a much more friendlier grip on you, but you felt arousal flare, hot and quick, in your core. Again, you ignored it and tipped your face up, planting your chin on the edge of Steve’s broad shoulder as you smiled up at him. Steve ducked down, kissing your nose and making you giggle, seemingly back to his normal self—your slightly silly best friend.

“Alright, let’s get some ice cream,” Steve rumbled, repeating your words while he gave your knee a squeeze, using his other hand to turn his truck around on your street and head in the direction of town.

There was a slight chill in the air as it swirled through the open windows of the truck cab, the heat of the July day having burned off and leaving only the coolness of night. Thanks to Steve’s hoodie, and the way your body was pressed into his warmth, you didn’t feel anything but comfortable, the breeze tickling your cheeks and making you smile. 

For a little while, you rode in silence with your best friend, but your mind kept straying to the feeling of Steve’s hand on your leg, to the memory of him gripping your thigh. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his big hands roaming all over your body, groping your thighs and hips…and other things. 

To distract yourself, you raised your voice above the wind and asked, “How was work?”

“It was fine,” Steve answered, his deep rumble sending a tremor of delight through your body. 

His eyes were on the road since he was navigating his truck through the town where you both lived, making turns to get to the small ice cream shop that would be open late for the holiday business. Still, Steve managed to shoot you a smile that made your insides flutter as he went on. 

“I would’ve much rather gone to the fair with you, though.”

A melty, gooey heat swirled in your belly and you squeezed his arm in yours, hiding a big, beaming grin in your best friend’s shoulder at his comment. When you managed to get control of yourself so you didn’t look like a lovesick fool, you raised your face again.

“We’re going on Saturday,” you reminded him, still smiling a little goofily. “Are you going to win me a new stuffie?” 

“Sunshine,” Steve started, using one hand to turn his truck into the small parking lot of the ice cream shop. “I’m going to win you all the stuffies.” His voice was warm and affectionate and you couldn’t help the way your heart beat unsteadily at his promise. Your best friend was none the wiser, though, as he parked his truck and turned to you. “C’mon.”

Steve helped you climb down from his truck, lacing his fingers through yours as you walked into the shop. It was busy, families and groups of friends getting some last-minute ice cream before heading over to the fireworks just outside of town. Steve and you fell into an easy conversation, your best friend asking you about your day to pass time while you waited in line. 

Once it was your turn to order, you asked for your favorite in a cone, then Steve got a couple scoops of dark chocolate in a sugar cone. You fought with Steve over who was going to pay. He insisted he should pay because he’d dragged you out of bed, and you argued it was his birthday and there was no way you were going to let him pay. 

Unfortunately, Steve’s arms were longer than yours and he was able to shove his card across the counter farther than you could. Grumbling about your stubborn best friend, you dropped a couple dollars into the tip jar and grabbed your ice cream. Steve followed you out, laughing at your poutiness and led you back to his truck, opening the driver side door for you and holding your cone while you got in.

Without being asked, you sat in the middle seat again, and held Steve’s ice cream while he drove, pushing it in his face whenever it started dripping. Both of you were laughing at the ridiculousness of him licking up the dripping ice cream while trying to drive by the time Steve pulled onto a dirt road that led up a hill beyond the edge of town.

After a few minutes, the trees parted into a clearing at the top of the hill and Steve rolled his truck to a stop, putting it in park overlooking the field where the town’s Fourth of July fireworks display would be. Wordlessly, you handed him his ice cream and the two of you sat in comfortable silence waiting for the show to begin while you enjoyed your sweet treat together. 

Steve finished his cone first, and you could feel his gaze on you while you licked up the last remnants of creamy goodness. You popped the last little bit of your cone into your mouth with a satisfied hum, your tongue licking sticky sweetness from your lips. 

“You have something on your…” Steve trailed off when you turned to him, his eyes dropping to your mouth and sliding along the curve of them. 

You felt his gaze like a physical thing, heat settling heavily in your core as warmth bloomed between your thighs. Then his thumb was following the the path of his eyes, swiping away some ice cream from the edge of your mouth that your tongue hadn’t been able to reach. 

Acting on impulse, and not questioning where it came from, you chased after Steve’s thumb, your tongue darting out to click the sweetness from the pad of his finger. Since your eyes were fixed on your best friend’s face, you watched his blue gaze darken and go heavy-lidded, his own mouth falling open with surprise. 

Heat filled your cheeks, making your face feel like it was on fire. “Umm,” you said, not knowing what else to say. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to apologize for licking your best friend, but just then, the first boom, pop and fizzle of fireworks sounded. Dazzling red light distracted you from Steve for a moment, dragging your eyes away to watch the fireworks display begin. You’d jumped at the first boom, the loud noise surprising you.

It was nothing, though, compared to the shock you felt when Steve grabbed your face, turned you back to him and ducked his head to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. Air filled your lungs as you sucked in a sharp breath, your body frozen while you sat there stunned, unable to do anything but feel the softness of Steve’s lips against yours.

Another sharp boom from overhead shocked you enough to make you jump again, and suddenly you remembered how to move. Your hands curled into the front of Steve’s shirt, clinging to him as you surged forward, pressing your lips harder against your best friend’s. 

Steve groaned low in his throat and your response seemed to unleash something within your best friend. Between one breath and the next, he was hauling you into his lap, your legs were straddling his thighs and his mouth was doing its best to devour yours.

You could taste the chocolate on his tongue as it slipped between your lips, exploring every inch of you and stroking against your own. Giddy excitement and heated desire swirled through your body, making you feel like you could float away as you and your best friend tasted and explored each other. 

Your hands uncurled from Steve’s shirt and slid up his shoulders, diving into the soft blond hair at the nape of his neck. He groaned again when you raked your nails softly against his scalp, his mouth going soft and slack as tremors of delight wracked his broad shoulders. 

“Fuck, sunshine,” Steve grunted, his hands pushing beneath the hem of the hoodie you wore so he could grope your hips. You rocked into him, wringing another moan of pleasure from your best friend when your heated core pressed against the bulge in his jeans. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about feeling you like this.”

“Steve, I—”

Your response was cut short by your best friend’s teeth nipping at your bottom lip, making you whine and grind harder against his lap. Steve swallowed your sounds of pleasure, his big hands groping and kneading the soft flesh of your hips and thighs like he couldn’t get enough. It was better than you ever could’ve imagined.

“That’s it, sunshine, ride your best friend’s bulge,” Steve rumbled, a little bit of teasing in his tone. His lips trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He sucked on the skin over your pounding pulse, pulling a whimpering sound from your mouth that was unlike any noise you’d ever made. “Ya gonna come on my cock, baby? Gonna come before we even take our clothes off?”

Your best friend’s filthy words poured over you like gasoline on a fire, turning the heat in your blood into a raging inferno. “Steve, god, please, I need…” You tried to form a coherent thought, your lips gasping for breath in between every false start, your hips working harder and faster as you chased your pleasure.

“Good girl, baby, take what you need,” Steve cooed in your ear, his hands slipping beneath your tank top and groping your tits. He plucked at your nipples, rolling the pebbled peaks between his fingers and making your eyes roll back in your head, your loud moans filling the cab of his truck and nearly drowning out the sounds of the fireworks from the field beyond. “Ride my bulge, sunshine, make yourself come all over my cock.” 

You were making a mess in your panties and shorts, your arousal soaking through the thin garments until you were certain you were leaving a wet spot behind on Steve’s jeans, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when your clit was rubbing just right against the bulge pressing against his fly. 

“Oh god, Steve, ‘m gonna…” 

Your hips worked frantically, humping against Steve’s cock through both your clothes while he murmured encouraging words in your ear and played with your tits until he figured out what made you squirm and writhe the most. Then he kept that up until you were suddenly at the edge.

“Come for me, sunshine, come for your best friend.”

Steve’s words were what did you in. His soft, murmured urging pushed you off the ledge and sent you tumbling into pleasure as you came for him.

Your arms locked around your best friend’s shoulders, nails digging into the back of his neck as bliss like you’d never known swept through your body, leaving you a shaking, trembling mess. Mindless moans and whimpers slipped from your lips, your hips still bucking on Steve’s lap as you rode out your release.

It wasn’t until Steve let loose a guttural groan, a warm wetness spreading through the jeans pressed against your bare thighs, that you realized he was coming too. You wrenched your eyes open, your gaze locking with his, seeing your own pleasure mirrored in his sparkling blue depths. Then your mouths were colliding, both of you having surged forward to meet somewhere in the middle.

The kiss was messy, mouths sliding and teeth knocking, both of you swallowing down the pleasured sounds of the other. Steve’s hands gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your softness, helping you rock on his lap while you both rode out your releases and shuddered through the last remnants of pleasure together. 

Finally, when you were sated, your lips broke free and you pressed your forehead to Steve’s, closing your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. You could hardly believed what had just happened, and your mind struggled to catch up. 

“Christ, sunshine,” Steve rasped, his own chest still heaving shallowly. His hands were idly kneading your hips, like he was soothing any pain that might be there. “I really didn’t plan on doing anything more than getting ice cream for my birthday, but this was—wow.”

You giggled at the awe in Steve’s voice, leaning back enough that you could see him properly. His handsome, familiar face was slack from satisfaction, a dazed smile curving his mouth. Unable to help yourself, you ducked forward and sucked his lower lip into your mouth, making him groan like he was in pain. Beneath you, you felt his cock twitch, and you laughed again as you sat back.

“If you want, we can ditch the rest of the fireworks show and go back to my place?” you suggested, an eager smile on your face. 

Steve chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning forward until every inch of your chests were pressed together. You could feel the steady beating rhythm of his heart against your sternum, making your smile soften as you melted in your best friend’s arms.

“Sunshine, the fireworks are already over,” he murmured before capturing your lips in a kiss. When he broke away, he left you panting. “And if you think I’m doing anything other than taking you home and taking you to bed…” He trailed off, getting distracted by pressing kisses against your jaw. 

You hummed in acknowledgement, but then a thought suddenly occurred to you and you had to bite back a laugh. “Your birthday is on the Fourth of July,” you began in a leading tone. “And you know what that means, Stevie?” 

Instead of responding, Steve sank his teeth lightly into skin over your thrumming pulse, sucking and licking like he was intent on marking you with his mouth. Your thoughts scattered for a moment, your head tipping to the side to give him better access while your fingers raked idly through his soft blond hair.

It took you a second, but you managed to finish your thought. 

“Because it’s the Fourth of July, we have to end your birthday with a bang,” you murmured, unable to stop yourself from giggling at your own joke.

Steve, on the other hand, groaned. His mouth abandoned your neck as he buried his face in your chest, reluctant laughter shaking his shoulders. Before you could poke him and get him to admit he liked your joke, Steve was flipping you onto your back, laying you down on his truck’s bench seat and slotting his hips between your thighs. His revived bulge bumped against your heated core, making you moan softly.

“Y’know what, sunshine? You’re right,” Steve rumbled, his blue eyes sparkling with humor and affection as he stared down at you. There was so much emotion in his gaze, it nearly stole all the breath from your lungs. “We’ll end my birthday with a bang.” His hands began to strip you out of the hoodie he’d given you to wear, his gaze hungry and determined. “We’re gonna see if I can make you scream louder than those fireworks.” 

Your laughter dissolved into a hot, hungry heat. You pulled Steve down at the same moment he ducked his head, your lips crashing together in a fiery kiss that fogged up the windows of his truck, your bodies working together toward the same goal.

Between you and your best friend, you made sure the Fourth of July—and, more importantly, Steve’s birthday—ended with a bang.

[veltana]

Shared desires

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

✦ Word count: ~4,4k

✦ Rating: Explicit

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

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

Masterlist | AO3

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. The Masterlist.

Series Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. age gap (but all legal and consensual). cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count (so far) - 52.5k

Author's Note - another idea i've had for so long!! set in a beautiful coastal beach town - picture sunshine, sailing, beaches and your dad's hot best friend. what more could you want?

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine - the reveal I didn’t choose.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

to be continued…

The Playlist.

The Moodboard.

[late-to-the-party-81]

His little dolly

AN: Here we go, party-people. Here is the third part of my DBF Steve, officially making it a Series by the rules of Jen. This is actually based on the original idea by the lovely @krissy25 which started the whole thing off. It also actually adds some plot, which I was not expecting. It is, however, still absolute filth

Beta’d by @endlesstwanted, wrangler of commas

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Bingo and Challenge fills:

@steverogersbingo  - C3 - Free Space

Master list | SRB Master list | Series Master list

Summary: You have to try and control yourself when your parents and you spend the day helping Steve building his new deck. The evening, however, is a different matter.

Relationship: DBF Steve x Inexperienced Reader

Word count: 4.3k

CW: AU: No Powers, Age difference (Steve 40s, Reader early 20’s), Soft Dark Steve, Power Imbalance, Secret relationship, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Unprotected PIV Sex (reader on BC), Pussy slapping, Breath-play, Under-negotiated kink, Mild Angst, Implied Somnophilia, Implied Cum eating, Steve Rogers Dirty Talk, Bimbo-fication.

This was going to be torture. You were going to be spending the whole day with Steve, which on the surface, sounded like a dream - you only usually spent snatched moments together. However, your parents were also going to be there this time. 

Your Dad had gleefully announced three days ago that you’d all be spending Saturday at Steve’s house, having a cook-out while he and Steve worked on renovating Steve’s deck. So here you were, in the backseat of your Dad’s car as he drove the couple of miles across town to get there. You’d be so near but so far, and you had no idea how you were going to keep it together, especially since you hadn’t seen him in a week and he was still in possession of your toy-box.

The car lurched as your Dad pulled up outside Steve’s house, braking a little too hard, and you could almost hear his eyes roll as your Mom clicked her tongue at him. As they both got out of the car you put your best game face on and joined them. 

It was a warm day, and determined not to be labelled as a ‘useless woman’ you’d eschewed your normal hot weather wardrobe of a sundress. Instead you’d put on sturdy sneakers, some denim shorts and a baggy sleeveless tee, intending to help out with Steve’s renovations. You hoped that if you were busy, you’d be able to distract yourself from being so close to what you wanted.

That plan went straight out the window almost immediately. The three of you walked up the path, but instead of heading to the front door your Dad veered off toward the gate that went directly into the back yard. He pushed it open, holding it for you and your Mom, and you followed her through it. 

You came to a grinding halt as all thoughts were driven from your head.

Steve had already started working, and he must have been at it for a while because he’d already discarded his shirt and had a sheen of sweat over his body.

Your mouth went dry and you barely noticed the way you pressed your thighs together, your clit already throbbing with arousal. He looked like a god come to life.

Yes, you’d seen him naked more than once, but you’d never seen him like this in the bright light of day, just looking so masculine. Was there a name for this kink? The urge to just lick the sweat from his pecs was almost overwhelming.

“Sweetie? Are you okay?” Your Mom’s voice pulled you back into reality.

“Umm, yeah. I - uuh - just got something in my eye.” You blinked rapidly and rubbed at your right eye to bring credence to your story, but it seemed that your Mom wasn’t fooled. She leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. 

“He is rather distracting, I’ll grant you.”

“Mom!” You felt your cheeks flame with embarrassment, and looked around to see if either your Dad, or god forbid Steve, had heard. “You can’t say things like that,” you hissed out.

Your Mom just gave you a wink. “Married, not dead, sweetie. Just don’t look at boys your own age like that - they might take it the wrong way and try to take advantage.”

You bit your tongue, desperately hoping she wouldn’t work out your secret just by looking at your face. Luckily you were saved by an unlikely ally when your Dad shouted out for your Mom’s attention as he tried to locate his tool belt. “I’m gonna go and get the cooler from the car,” you shouted, desperate for a few moments alone to compose yourself.

Spending all day with Steve was one thing, but spending it with him when he was topless, his skin kissed by the sun, and with him letting out little grunts of effort that reminded you too much of other noises? Well, you’d be lucky not to just orgasm on the spot and then the game would be up.

You jogged back down Steve’s front path to where your Dad’s car was parked at the curb. You popped the trunk, and were just leaning into it to lift out the cooler full of beer and meat for the cookout when a shadow fell over you.

You whirled around, coming straight into eye contact with the physique you’d just been admiring.

“Hey, Babydoll. You look a little warm. Something got you all flustered?” The way he teased you normally got you going, but given the current situation it just made you cross. You stepped away, needing space to breathe, and looked over at his smirking face. At least he’d thrown his shirt back over his shoulders, but it wasn’t buttoned and his chest was just there. 

“You’ve done this on purpose,” you ground out, trying not to raise your voice and catch your parents’ attention.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” Steve drawled mockingly, as he reached into the trunk and effortlessly picked up the cooler. “I just got a bit overheated while working and needed to strip off. Surely, you can understand that. And anyway, I’m just your Dad’s friend - not your type in any case.”

“Fuck you!” you whispered, full of both anger and arousal. 

Steve stepped back up onto the sidewalk heading back towards his house, but he paused as he passed you, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “Later, Babydoll. Later. And don’t go touching yourself when you go to the bathroom. I’ll know if you do…”

He walked away, and you gave yourself a few seconds to take in some deep breaths before following him back into his yard. He was already talking to your Mom when you got there, back to being the genial friend of the family.

“Thank you for bringing over the food and agreeing to come help out. I expected it to just be me and Twinkle-toes over there.” He jerked his head in your Dad’s direction, who pouted at the nickname, and your Mom threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Steve. You’re like family. You know we think of you like a brother.”

Steve glanced over at you, and the look you saw in his eyes was in no way ‘uncle-like’. You shivered and tried not to think of all the things the two of you had done - things that would probably make your Mom faint and your Dad go apoplectic. 

There was only one way you were going to get through this day, so purposefully ignoring Steve you strode over to where your Dad was looking at the decking planks, a measuring tape in hand and a carpenter’s pencil between his teeth.

“How can I help?” you asked, and got stuck in.

Your plan worked to a certain extent. At least while you were helping your Dad measure and cut, or helping your Mom prepare the food for the grill. However, everytime you thought you had your equilibrium back on an even keel, Steve seemed to somehow know and would make a point of brushing past you or would stand in your eye line. He’d then tip his head back and drink from his beer, uncaring if any errant drops spilled from his mouth and trickled down his throat and chest. A few times you were tempted to disobey him - go to his bathroom and relieve the tension building in your core. You even wondered if you could sneak off to his bedroom and use his pillow to get yourself off, but you weren’t that brave.

The hours passed by fast despite each minute feeling like an eternity, and it was with a sense of pride that you realised that your assistance had actually been useful - Steve’s deck was almost complete. The railings on one side still needed to be put into place and the protective wood stain needed to be added, but all in all it was a success. 

Now you were all relaxing on loungers, having filled up on burgers, wieners and your Mom’s potato salad, sipping on the remaining beers. 

Your parents and Steve had been talking about local goings-on while you’d been daydreaming when Steve directed a question to you.

“So, d’you think you’ll have the energy to meet up with your girlfriends after all your efforts today?”

For a moment you were confused. You had no plans after this, let alone with any girlfriends, but then a lightbulb came on in your head. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve just gotta check if they still wanna go out. They weren’t sure, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it,” you turned to your parents, hoping they found it plausible. Your Dad just waved his hand.

“You’re a grown up now, sweetie. You don’t need to account for your movements to us. We know you’re sensible. And it won’t be too long now before you spread your wings and leave the nest completely - get that job you’ve been dreaming of.”

“Oh,” said Steve with interest. “What job is that?”

“Hasn’t she told you?” Your Mom sat forward in her chair, full of excitement. “She’s got an interview for an internship at Walker Industries. Our baby’s on the up and up.”

“Mom,” you groaned. “It’s not that glamorous. It’s really just glorified data entry.”

“But it’s a big company,” your Mom argued back. “International. And you’re smart and ambitious. You’ll be working your way up in no time.”

Neither her or your Dad seemed to notice how quiet Steve had gone - how his now dark gaze was settled squarely on you -, but you did and you couldn’t work out what it meant. Then, with a smack of his hands on his thighs, Steve stood up.

“Well, it’s been a long day and I really do appreciate the help and the company, but if Little Miss Social Life here has something planned, I’d best let you go.”

Your Dad looked at his watch and gasped, making some comment about time flying, and then you were all caught up in a flurry of activity and goodbyes. Your Dad checked he had all his tools and your Mom made sure she had all her food containers, despite Steve’s insistence he should keep them to wash up and return at another point. Ten minutes later, you were all back in the car heading home.

Twenty minutes after that you were under the shower, washing the sweat and dirt of the day off yourself and trying to ignore how every nerve ending in your body was on fire from the anticipation of what was to come. In another forty minutes, you’d tried on and discarded various different outfits, trying to find just the right one. It was proving difficult because your parents thought you were going out with the girls, so your outfit had to reflect that, but at the same time Steve preferred a certain aesthetic on you - loving you in little sundresses and flirty skirts. However, having emptied most of your meagre wardrobe over your bed and your floor, you finally settled on something that you hoped would work - a hot pink dress with spaghetti straps and skirt that swirled when you moved. You slicked on some light make-up, again trying to strike the balance right, grabbed your purse and jogged down the stairs.

You shouted a hurried ‘good-bye’ to your parents, who were cuddled up on the couch sleepily watching one of their favourite police procedural dramas, and finally made your way out of the door. While walking down the darkening sidewalk, your jacket slung over your arm, you checked your phone. You’d sent Steve an estimate of when you’d be ready and hoped he’d be waiting for you at the end of the block. There was no response to the text you’d sent to the number saved under ‘Janice’, and you started to feel nervous until you turned the corner and saw the vehicle you’d been on the lookout for.

Feeling a bit giddy, you skipped over, opening the passenger door and sliding in beside Steve. You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. He looked back at you, indulgently, and licked his lips.

“You look like a doll come to life, sweetheart.”

You preened under his praise. “I’m glad you like it,” you replied, smoothing the hot pink fabric over your legs.

“If I was less of a gentleman, I’d have my way with you here and now,” he growled, dramatically.

“And if you were more of a gentleman, I wouldn’t even be here,” you teased back.

“Brat,” he replied with a chuckle and a warning pinch to your thigh. “Behave.”

“Yes, Steve.” You pouted and batted your eyelids, and he chuckled again before putting his car in drive and peeling away from the curb. As he drove, you gave him sideways glances, studying his profile as you hummed to the music on the stereo and tapping your hands on your lap. The streetlights helped to highlight the streaks of grey at his temples, and you longed to run your fingers through it. You just had to be patient, though - it wouldn’t be long until Steve had you spread out on his bed and you’d have the chance to do just that.

Heat started to pool within you, the anticipation making you fidgety, and you let out a sigh of relief when Steve steered the car up his drive and into his garage. As soon as he killed the engine, he was making his way around your side of the car to open the door. He helped you out and then immediately took your face in his large hands, laying a demanding kiss on you. You squeaked briefly in surprise before leaning into it, your hands fisting his shirt for balance. You’d worn higher heels than normal and weren’t used to the change in your centre of gravity. 

Steve smiled against your lips, sliding his hands down your body until he grasped your ass and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up, and dug your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He walked across the garage but didn’t take you through the door into the main house, instead heading out into his backyard. He lowered you slowly, your bodies sliding against each other until your feet hit the new planks.

“Why are we out here, Steve? We spent all day on this damn thing.”

He smiled at you in the moonlight. “Exactly, Babydoll. You helped me build it, so now you have to help me christian it.”

You cocked your head at him, brows furrowed, and then realisation hit. “Oh!”

Steve pulled you back into his embrace. “Oh, indeed,” he said, and then he lowered his mouth to yours again, demanding entrance and acting as though he was going to devour you. You gave back as good as you got, feeling desperate for his touch. “Today was so hard,” he muttered against your lips. “Every time you bent over in those shorts, fuck. There were moments where I almost didn’t care that your parents were here. I wanted to rip them from you and take you right here.”

“‘Wasn’t any easier for me,” you murmured back. “My Mom saw me staring at you - I think she thinks I’ve got a crush on you. Warned me not to look at boys my age the way I look at you.”

“As if you’d dare,” came the jesting reply.

Steve’s hand skimmed down your side until it reached the hem of your dress. It made its way under, his palm sliding over your thigh working its way up to your hip where it stopped, and he pulled back from your kiss.

“Sweetheart, have you come out without any panties on?”

You peered up at him, coyly from under your lashes. “Maybe…” It was your turn to smirk.

“Fuck,” he barked and then dropped straight to his knees, his hands throwing up your skirt so he could grasp your naked ass and pull you onto his face. His tongue found its way, unerring, between your folds and straight to your clit, giving you no time to prepare yourself.

“Steve!” you screeched before biting down on your lip, and grabbing hold of his head as you tottered on your heels. “Oh god!”

He was like a man possessed, slurping lewdly at your sex and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out of your spasming cunt. It was a vicious onslaught of pleasure that left you dizzy and out of breath. When he pressed two of his fingers inside of you without warning, you had to let go of him with one hand so you could bite down on the base of your thumb to stop from screaming in ecstasy. “Give it to me, Babydoll. I need you to make a mess.”

He stroked that special spot inside of you without pause, and sucked on your clit as your legs shook. There was a heavy feeling inside your core, like the building of an orgasm but different, as he kept up his pleasurable torture.

“Steve!” You gasped. “I…I’m gonna…what’s happening?”

He didn’t answer, just kept up what he was doing, driving you closer to the brink and also towards something unknown. When you came, it was with a massive release of pressure. Your body jerked in his hold, your eyes rolled up and you felt a wet flood between your legs. You heard Steve moan into your cunt, and then you heard the patter of liquid onto the wood between your feet. You felt like you were flying and sinking at the same time.

“What the fuck?” You slurred as Steve slowly rose back to his feet.

“You squirted, sweetheart. So fucking sexy.”

“I what?” You squeaked, unbelieving. “But isn’t that…” A feeling of shame started to wash over you, but Steve interrupted it, pressing one of his fingers to your lips.

“Yes, but also no. Don’t think too much about it, honey. It’s nothing to be ashamed of - it’s natural. Just means you were really turned on, and let me tell you, it’s quite the ego boost to do that to you. Made me even harder.”

His eyes narrowed and he took hold of your hand, so much smaller than his and placed it over the bulge in his jeans.

“It’s gonna make it a lot easier for me to slip inside that tight pussy of yours too. She’s so wet, ‘m gonna just slide right in. And fuck, it’s gonna make some beautiful sounds. Would you like that, Babydoll? Want me to stuff this fat cock into your hungry cunt? See if I can make you squirt again?”

His words hypnotised you and you groped at his cock, staring up at him with your mouth wide open and your eyes glazed with lust. Fuck, you could feel your cum running down your bare thighs. “Please,” you begged, your tone husky and full of need.

As if you were a rag doll, Steve steered you backwards until your back hit one of the completed portions of railing. He spun you to face it and then plastered himself against your back. The heat of him burned through your dress, and his breath tickled your ear. “I’m gonna take you right here and you’re gonna be good for me and take it. You’re gonna be quiet too - we don’t want Mrs Kennedy next door coming out to find out what’s going on.”

You heard the metallic snick of his fly being lowered and your eyes fluttered closed. Steve’s foot tapped yours and you widened your stance, taking hold of the railing for stability. Slowly, he pulled your skirt up above your hips and his cock nudged against your naked ass. Steve placed his left hand, fingers splayed over your stomach, holding you right where he wanted you as he guided his cock to the entrance of your cunt and then pressed in with one hard thrust.

You choked back your cry, your fingers tightening their grip on the wood in front of you.

“Good girl,” Steve praised, and he started to fuck into you with long, firm strokes. “Such a perfect little dolly, just for me.”

His right hand came up to the straps of your dress and bra, lowering them down your arms so he could free your breasts. The cool evening air blew across you, making your nipples peak, and you moaned low in your throat as Steve rolled each of them in turn, plucking and pulling at them in a way that was both painful and oh-so-good.

He fucked you languidly, building you up slowly. His left hand moved down and he drew lazy circles over your clit - enough to have you whimpering with need, but not enough to bring you to orgasm.

“I’m gonna fuck you just like this - slow and deep - until you feel like you’re gonna burst. I want you to come on me and fucking soak my cock like you did my hand. I want your cum to splatter all over this fucking deck. I want you to feel so much pleasure that you never want to look at another man.”

Your mind was hazy with lust, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. “Don’t want anyone but you, Steve. Make me feel so good.”

A small change in the angle of Steve’s thrusts had his cock rubbing over your g-spot the same way his fingers had earlier. The feeling of your orgasm building still felt strange, but at least you knew what to expect. You just didn’t know how you were going to stay silent, though.

He cruelly twisted one of your nipples just as he thrust forward and reedy warble left your throat. Steve responded by slapping your clit, and even as the sharp pain registered you heard the wet squelch as he did so, your squirt already starting to seep out of you as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“I said to stay quiet,” he hissed.

The pressure inside you was rising once more, and you knew you were close. “I don’t think I can,” you whined, and your body convulsed as he fucked into you. “I’m so close. Please, Steve. I… I…”

“Aawww, does my Babydoll need help?”

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to comprehend how he was going to do it. 

Steve took his left hand from your clit and trailed the back of his knuckles up your side, then settled it around the base of your throat. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled in your ear.

“Yes,” was your whispered response. You trusted him with your life.

“Then take over touching that pretty clit for me and just relax.”

You let go of the railing with your right hand and did as he asked, feeling how soaked you were as you started to play with your clit. As you started to crest higher, unable to hold back little pleasures squeaks, Steve resettled his left hand on your throat and began to lightly squeeze. Your noises stopped as your airway was constricted. Everything within you was concentrated on the feeling building in your cunt, and as black spots began to form in front of your eyes, your body began to tremble.

When Steve let go of your neck, your orgasm exploded out of you. His hand immediately clapped over your mouth, leaving you to breathe out your scream through your nose as you jerked on his cock like a puppet on a string. The gush of liquid that erupted from your cunt flooded over your hand and onto the deck like a waterfall.

“Fucking god,” Steve exclaimed, the movement of his hips finally speeding up as he chased his own release inside your spasming channel, adding his own cum to the sticky mess leaking from you. 

You collapsed against him, unsure how you were even still upright after that. Another whimper left you as Steve pulled himself from your body, but he immediately scooped you up in his arms and carried you inside, walked up the stairs, and placed your exhausted body on his bed. When he didn’t immediately lie down next to you, you blinked your eyes open. “Steve?”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart,” he assured, and you watched as he pushed down his jeans and briefs. Your eyes widened when you realised they were sodden.

“Oh my god! Did I do that?”

Steve grinned as he climbed naked onto the bed and crawled over you. “You did and don’t you dare apologise. Whenever I wear them from now on I’ll think of you and how fucking sexy you are. Now you rest for a bit. I have more plans for you, and I need to make sure you get home at a plausible time.”

You pouted as you took in his words. This was the thing you really hated about your relationship - if you could call it that -, you couldn’t just curl up next to him and stay the night the way you wanted to. Would you ever be able to be open about your relationship, or was it doomed from the start?

However, your body was totally wrung out from Steve’s ministrations, and it wasn’t long until you fell into a doze, your body pressed up against his.

Steve looked down at you as you took your rest. You looked so innocent - so young - as you slept. He shouldn’t want you this much, but he did, even if he’d go to hell for it. He’d burn the world for you. 

When your mother had announced you were hoping to work for Walker Inc, it had taken all of his self control not to stand up and forbid it. Who was he to do so? Besides, it wasn’t your fault that Walker was a grade A ass-hole. 

Steve had no doubt that you’d ace the interview, so he’d just have to hope that the CEO didn’t notice you. If he did, the sleazeball would have no qualms about trying to take advantage of you. A little voice inside his head pointed out that he’d already done just that. He batted it aside. The difference was that he cared for you. Walker cared about nothing but himself.

You let out a sleepy little noise as you snuggled into his side and he turned back to you. He’d give you another half an hour, and then he was planning to feast on your messy pussy. That should wake you up with a smile. Then he’d watch you bounce on his cock, like the little dolly you were.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

[holylulusworld]

Shy guy (4)

Summary: You grew up together. Bucky is the one. He’s just too shy to make a move.

Pairing: Shy!Bucky Barnes x Fratgirl!Reader

Sidepairing (friendship): Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: a kiss between Steve & Bucky (not reader), mentions of sex (Steve), the reader being a good friend, teasing, banter, friendship

Inspired by this ask: Shy guy ask and @dawn-petrichor-world​ made me do it…The idea for the kiss came from her too. 😊

Shy guy (3) - Past

Shy guy masterlist

Two years later, age of sixteen…

Your friendship with Bucky wasn’t the same after what happened with John Walker. You pulled away ever so often when Bucky invited other people to his birthday party or movie nights.

It wasn’t unusual for people to invite other people to a party, but it always left a bitter taste on your tongue remembering what happened because Bucky wanted to spend time with John Walker.

You were still friends, and you still felt deeply for Bucky, but Steve turned out to be a better friend. He was less impressed by other people trying to join your little clique. 

Steve was still a heartbreaker, and notorious womanizer, but at the same time, he was the best friend you could wish for.

One call and Steve Rogers stood in front of your door, asking who you wanted him to beat into a pulp.

He didn’t want Bucky and you not to be friends, but at the same time, he enjoyed being your best friend again.

Movie nights were special to you and your friends. Sadly, you couldn’t join the latest movie night, and this is how Steve and Bucky ended up at Steve’s place, fighting over the movie they wanted to watch. 

“So, any girls you dated lately?” Steve tried to tease his friend. He knew Bucky had never had a date with a girl before. 

“No,” Bucky grunted and glared at Steve. “I’m not a serial lady-killer like you. I’m waiting for the right girl.”

“Did you ever kiss a girl?” Steve pressed on. 

“I won’t tell you,” Bucky sighed, ashamed he still didn’t find the guts to finally ask you on a date.   

“How do you wanna know you are into girls if you never kissed one or asked a girl out?” 

Bucky frowned deeply. “What’s that supposed to mean? The way you treat girls tells me you can’t be into them either. You treat every girl you date like shit.”

“What?” That made Steve rethink his whole dating history. “No…I mean…I’m totally into girls!”

“Are you sure?” Bucky grinned as his friends suddenly looked like a confused puppy. “If you like them so much, why do you always break up with them after one date?”

“Hmm…” Steve nodded. “That’s nonsense! I like girls!”

“How do you wanna know? Maybe you are into guys and don’t even know it!” The brunette argued. If Steve wanted to mess with him for being shy around girls, he’d pay him back.

“How do want me to find out?” Steve bit back. “I’m pretty sure that I like girls.”

“How shall I know?” Bucky muttered.

“Hey, guys!” You almost ripped the door open to scare your friends. “I’m back and made it to movie night!” You stopped in your tracks as your friends looked like you caught them jerking off or something. “Okay, what did you do?”

Both refused to look you in the eyes. You had to annoy them for almost half an hour before they told you about their discussion.

“Easy!” You exclaimed. “I’ll kiss Bucky, and then Bucky will kiss you!” 

They stared at you, wide-eyed and scared. “What?” They both hiccupped. “NO!”

“Oh yeah!” You nodded and already crawled onto Bucky’s lap. If he was too shy to make a move, you’d take matters into your own hands. “Relax, Buck. It’s only a kiss.”

“Only a kiss…right,” he stammered. Bucky didn’t want you to know it would be his first real kiss with a girl. 

“We kissed before, on the mouth,” you cupped his face and brushed your nose against his. “I hope you brushed your teeth.” You teased before going for gold. Bucky gasped when you claimed his lips, gentle yet determined to make him see he only wants to kiss you from now on. “There, you go, Bucky.”

“I—” Steve cleared his throat. “Uh-will you kiss me too, Y/N?”

“Nah, you had your lips on every girl in our school!” You wrinkled your nose. “I won’t kiss you. You’re like a brother to me. That’s odd!”

“And?” Steve asked Bucky. 

“It was…good.” He grumbled and shifted on the couch. “I think I’m into girls.”

“You can’t be sure,” you hopped off his lap and winked at Steve. “Now, kiss him, Stevie. I wanna know if you can do it better! But remember, no tongue!”

“Tongue?” Bucky shrieked when Steve sat next to him. Your friend never was one to back down. You challenged him so he’d kiss Bucky to prove a point.

“Relax, I’m a good kisser,” Steve cupped Bucky’s face, unsure if he should kiss him or wait for Bucky to take the lead. “Fuck it.” 

You giggled when Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s. They quickly parted and wrinkled their foreheads before wiping their mouths on their shirt.

“That was—” Steve retched. “I don’t want to kiss you again!”

“Same,” Bucky shuddered. “Y/N is a better kisser.”

You grinned at Bucky’s words. Of course, you were a better kisser. You practiced in front of a mirror, imagining it’s Bucky kissing you back.

“I win,” you sat between your friends and chuckled. “So, are you both into girls?”

“YES!” They hastily said. 

The rest of the night was filled with friendly banter, lots of teasing, and stuffing junk food into your mouth.

Two years later your lives changed again.

The first days at NYU were almost the same as usual. You would spend your time hanging out with Steve, and teasing Bucky after classes, or try to hit it off with the new friends you made. Natasha, Wanda, and Okoye.

Steve and you were still best friends, and Bucky was still too shy to ask you out.

The only difference was you weren’t living at home any longer. You made enough money with your part-time jobs to pay for a small apartment off campus to have some peace and quit once in a while.

“I need to tell you something,” Steve stormed into your small apartment, making you shriek. You gave him a key for emergencies, not to storm into your room when you are chilling on your couch in nothing but your underwear.

“STEVE! We talked about boundaries. I could’ve been naked!”

He shrugged and plopped down on your couch. “I did it!” He grinned from ear to ear. 

“You did what?” You groaned and put the book you tried to read down. “I hope you don’t mean you bought that bike you were talking about!”

“I meant sex, Y/N,” Steve smirked. “Peggy and I made the next step. I know this is sudden, but I think I love her!”

“Whoa!” You jumped off the couch to pace the room. “Steven Grant Rogers!” You looked at him like a strict parent. “I hope you used protecting, young man.”

“Yeah…of course! I’m not stupid, Y/N!”

“Good!” You nodded. “And…uh…I’m so happy you found someone you love, Stevie.” You wrapped your friend in a hug and kissed his cheek. “I hope you were a gentleman too.”

“She kinda took the lead,” he admitted. “I mean…it wasn’t her first time. I wish I was her first, but I wasn’t, and…” Steve nervously babbled. “But I love her, and it’s okay. We can do it for the rest of our lives.”

“Whoa!” You slowly let go of Steve, grabbing his upper arms to get a good look at your friend. “You really are in love!”

“Yeah,” his cheeks turned pink, and it made him look even more adorable. “I am.”

“Yes, it finally happened,” you wrapped your arms around him. “Maybe I can invite the both of you for dinner. I asked Bucky, and the others yesterday. If you want to, you can join us.”

“I’m the last one you ask?” He grunted.

“Babe, you weren’t available. I ended up on voicemail. You should check your messages,” you snickered. “But I get it. Your dick finally got some action, and all your blood ran down your lower half.” 

You patted his back and sighed. If Steve was happy, you’d gladly support him and his blooming relationship. 

Even though, Peggy Carter was the last girl you wanted to be around your friend. She always gave you the stinky eye, and you had no clue why…

“Dinner is ready,” you clapped your hands and looked around your crowded living room. “We’ve got pasta, salad, and vegetarian pizza. There are more than enough snacks too.”

“Where’s Steve?” Okoye asked. You didn’t hear from Steve for the better of a week, and worried about him. He didn’t call you back, but you assumed he was busy with his girlfriend and his art classes.

“He promised he’d be here. Don’t worry. Stevie likes to run late,” you grinned and popped a grape in your mouth. “Go ahead, have some food!”

You walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind you to call Steve again. It wasn’t that you wanted to be the kind of friend getting on Steve’s nerves, but you missed your friend and worried more than you’d like to admit.

“Still no sign?” Bucky followed you outside and glanced at your phone. “Do…do you want me to drive you to the frat house?"

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s just busy with his girlfriend. Peggy is not a big fan of me,” you said and shook your head. 

“Why not?”

Before you could answer, someone walked toward your apartment. It was Steve, looking like someone had kicked him in the guts.

“Stevie?” You ran toward him to wrap him in a hug. “What happened? Is something wrong at the frat house? You can bunker at my place if you want to.”

“It’s not the boys. They are cool,” he sniffled and hid his face in your shoulder. You ran your hand over his head, and down to his shoulder, murmuring soothing words. “She broke things up with me for some other guy. Peggy said she doesn’t love me and that she only wanted to see if I can keep up with my reputation.”

“Oh, Stevie,” you whispered and kissed his cheek. “She’s a stupid bitch and doesn’t deserve my best friend.”

“I liked her so much, and she only wanted me for sex,” he snorted. “Can you imagine, she laughed right in my face when I admitted that she was my first.”

“I’ll kill that bitch,” you wrapped your arms a little tighter around your friend. “Do you want to go for a walk or…”

“Can I have some food? I didn’t eat anything today,” Steve rubbed his face on your shoulder. “You promised pasta and snacks.”

“Sure thing, Stevie.”

Steve spent the evening with you, Bucky, and your new friends. The others went home while Bucky, Steve, and you had a sleepover just like when you were just kids.

“She’s such a bitch,” you gritted your teeth as you had to watch Peggy be all over John Walker. They made out right in front of your friend, and it made you furious. “I’ll pay her back.”

“Forget it,” Steve shrugged. It was a few weeks later, and he slowly got back on his feet. “I got a date with her cousin, Sharon.” He grinned like the devil. “I heard through the grapevine that Sharon and Peggy hate each other. And Sharon is into kinky shit.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you slapped his chest. “You sneaky bastard!”

“What? Sharon always had a thing for me, and now that I did it, I feel confident enough to do her good,“ he smirked. “I bet she’s love sucking my—”

You covered his mouth with your hand. “If you mention your dick, I’ll kick your balls. Just be careful and use protection.” 

“Aw, you’re such a good friend,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek. “Like a mom.”

“Dude don’t call me a mom! I’m not ready to settle down and have kids,” you snapped at Steve. “I worry about you, is all.”

“…and I love you for it,” he pecked your cheek. “Please never change, doll. You are one in a million.”

“Can you tell this to Bucky?” You sighed.

“Y/N, if you want to get your hands on our friend Bucky, you must take matters into your own hands. He’s shy, and if you wait for much longer, some other girl will make a move on him. You don’t want him to end up with someone like Peggy, right?”

“No!” You hastily said. “Hmm…take matters into my hands.” You looked at Peggy shamelessly making out with Walker. “I think you are not wrong, Stevie. I should make a move on Bucky…”

Shy guy (5) - Present

Tags in reblog.

[abriefnirvana]

Do people still do song based fics? I used to love those but I don’t really see them around any more. Would yall be interested in me making a song list? As potential inspiration and stuff like that. If so also feel free to send in song suggestions in my request to add to it.

[waywardxrhea]

No Romeo - a Marvel one shot

pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader and best friend!Natasha x fem!reader (platonic but with accidental fruity implications at the end whoops) no use of y/n

(disclaimer: at one point in this story it is mentioned that perhaps Reader reminds Steve of Peggy. this can be interpreted as looks, intelligence, empowerment, among many other things that you may attribute to yourself. know that i do not intend this to be used to restrict the audience of readers, but for the plot of this little story it has to be there! take it as you will!)

word count: 1.9k

"get up let's go, let's get off the floor. put on a dress and walk out the door. leave him behind, I know that you're better off..." - no romeo by dylan

when your date with Steve doesn't go as planned, Natasha is there to pick up the slack.

content: 18+ minors DNI! smut (mutual stripping, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex with mentions of birth control, no orgasm), angst, language (fucking used once), hurt comfort, drinking.

(not my gif)

You had been dating Captain Steve Rogers for a few months now and things had been going super well. You went on dates every week when the two of you weren’t busy on missions for SHIELD, he had met your best friend from outside of work, and he treated you like a lady. He was so unlike anyone else you had ever dated, and not just because he was a super soldier. He was what they called a good old fashioned lover boy who opened doors, pulled out chairs, brought you bouquets of your favorite flowers, the works, for every date you had been on. 

Your first date all that time ago was set up by one of your colleagues and work best friends Natasha Romanoff who thought both you and Steve needed to get out into the dating world and had the idea that the two of you would make a great pair. You knew she had been trying to get him to go for other girls like the pretty blonde from accounting or the spunky chick from analytics, and you heard the rumors of how great they were but he still didn’t go for them. So needless to say, you were surprised when Nat told you he nearly immediately said yes when she offered you up as a potential date. Not that you were complaining or anything. 

So that led you to tonight on your usual dinner date with Steve. After dinner was finished, Steve took you back to his apartment where the plan was to start watching the Star Wars movies to get some things on his checklist in his little notebook done, but things didn’t exactly go to plan. Honestly they never did once you and Steve got behind closed doors because the second the door shut behind you, his strong body pinned you to it as your lips crashed onto one another’s. 

Steve’s hands wandered down to your hips and he began gently massaging them as one of your own locked in his hair and the other ran feather-light over his abs. “You look so beautiful tonight,” he whispered as he turned his attention to your neck, starting with gentle kisses before starting to leave small love bites on your delicate skin. 

“Oh this old thing?” you asked with a breathy laugh, referencing your low cut white blouse and flowing red skirt you had gotten at your favorite boutique years ago.

“It’s been driving me crazy all night,” he told you as he moved his assault to your collar bones as he effortlessly lifted you into his arms. 

A smirk slipped onto your lips as you said in your most seductive voice, “Well if it’s making you so crazy why don’t you take it off of me… Captain?” 

“You don’t have to ask me twice, agent,” he replied with a chuckle. 

So as the two of you made your way to his bedroom one article of clothing came off at a time, first your blouse followed by his shirt. As he gently sat you on the edge of the bed, his hands worked quickly to get your bra off and he spent a few torturous minutes messing with your sensitive breasts, leaving yet more love bites and teasing your nipples which left you with a pool of wet heat in between your thighs. Steve slipped your panties off before you spread your legs wider for him, working on getting his pants off over the tent that had formed within them. You ended up getting both his underwear and pants off in one go and he chuckled as he told you between kisses, “Now I think you’re a bit overdressed, sweetheart.” 

“Oh am I now?” you asked with a light laugh before you let your skirt fall to the ground. “Better?” you asked as you kicked the garment to the pile of clothes that now littered the floor. 

“Much,” he replied as he guided you to lay on the bed. He hovered over you and kissed your lips passionately a few more times before asking like he always did, “You take your pill this morning?” 

“Of course,” you replied. You nipped his earlobe before teasing, “I know you like the feel without a condom…” 

“God, because you’re just so perfect,” he groaned as his hips bucked up, his swollen tip teasing your entrance already. “You’re so wet…you ready for me?” he asked as he reached down between the two of you to run himself through your soaked and sensitive folds. 

“Always ready for you, Captain,” you told him with a wink. The calling of his rank was enough to spur him to thrust in without much of a warning, pushing in quickly at first before he slowed down, pushing his thick length into you impossibly deep, something you never got used to no matter how many times you had slept with him. “Oh god, Steve!” you whimpered as your nails dug into the strong muscles lining his back. 

“You feel so good,” he grunted as he bottomed out, giving you a few moments to adjust to his size. 

“You just know how to treat me right,” you replied before he began moving his hips, dragging his hot length in and out of you at the delicious speed that had you moaning loudly within moments. You were sure you’d be getting another noise complaint from the little old lady next door. 

After a few minutes of that position, Steve shifted and hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, which in turn made you nearly scream as you called out his name, your nails once again digging into his back as the pleasure became nearly unbearable. You could feel yourself starting to gently squeeze Steve’s cock, causing him to throw his face into the crook of your neck as his breathing the thrusts became erratic. He let out a low moan before whispering something that made your blood run cold. “Peggy, God that feels so good…” 

“I- Steve, Steve stop,” you stuttered out upon hearing what he whispered, your orgasm retreating deep into your body as all pleasure seemed to run away with it. “P-please get off,” you told him as you began shifting out of the now awkward position he had you in. 

“Everything okay?” he asked dumbly, his eyebrows furrowing as he pulled out of you gently. 

You tried to hide the building emotion in your voice as you told him, “You answer that next time you’re fucking someone and they call out someone else’s name.” 

“I- I didn’t realize,” Steve said quietly as he closed his eyes and sighed. You quickly began gathering your clothes off the floor and throwing them on as he called out your name, saying, “Oh come on, it was a mistake I didn’t mean it! Come back please! I’ll make it up to you!” 

“No,” you told him, pulling away from his grasp before heading to the bedroom door to grab your blouse. You kept your back turned to him as you pulled it on and said, “You’re still in love with her, I get it. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough…” Before he could respond you closed the door behind you and grabbed your purse, making a quick exit as the tears began running down your face. 

You grabbed a cab back to your apartment, earning sympathetic glances from the cabbie the whole ride there. When you arrived and paid him, he told you gently, “I hope your night gets better.” 

“Oh, t-thanks,” you mumbled, returning to your purse for a few more bills to tip the kind man with. “Have a good night.” 

When you got up to your apartment was when your anxiety at the whole situation got the better of you and you began to spiral. Everything touching you felt like too much, so you quickly got changed in your bedroom, ridding yourself of the sticky feeling underwear and the outfit that you now realized looked just like one you saw on Peggy in a picture Steve had in his apartment. “Stupid…” you whispered to yourself, your voice breaking as you glared at your now former favorite ensemble. 

Changing into your softest pjs you tried to calm yourself down and stop your mind from racing, sitting down on the cool hardwood floor wrapped in your favorite blanket. You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to not let your mind wander away from your immediate surroundings. As the feel of the cool wood brought you back down to reality, you got lost in your own little world of what you could hear, feel, and smell in your apartment. The distant sounds of the city were more soothing than ever, but all of that was interrupted by the sudden turning of the doorknob to your apartment. 

Your eyes snapped open and you instinctively reached for the hidden gun under your coffee table only to see Natasha standing in your doorframe. “Oh, Nat, hey,” you said quietly, your hand retreating from the firearm. “I thought I locked the door, sorry.” 

“Spare key remember?” Nat asked as she held the key in question up. She smirked slightly before saying, “Not that I need it or anything.” 

“Right,” you told her with a forced laugh. 

Nat closed the door behind her and studied you for a few moments before asking quietly, “What happened with Romeo?” 

“He’s no Romeo…” you whispered, tears making their appearance once more in response to the question. When Nat didn’t say anything in response for a few moments, you continued, telling her, “Things were going great at first. Dinner went well, we headed back to his place, started having sex, but then…then he called out Peggy’s name… I just… I had to get outta there…” 

“Oh, radnaya…” Nat whispered as she sat down on the couch nearby and leaned you back into her lap, massaging your shoulders. “I’m sorry that happened…” she mumbled, something like guilt laced in her words. 

“Is…is that the only reason he wanted me? Because I reminded him of her? Of what he actually wants?” you asked, the venom in your voice earlier replaced by an overwhelming sadness. You lowered your head as your arms tightened around your legs, adding quietly, “I thought for once someone wanted me for me…” 

“Get up,” Nat said suddenly, a sureness in her tone as she untangled her legs from you and stood up. 

“What?” you asked, looking up at her with your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Get up, let’s go, let’s get off the floor. Put on a dress and walk out the door. Leave him behind I know that you’re better off,” she told you as she held her hand out for you to grab. 

“But Nat-“ you tried, not in the mood to go out again. 

“No buts. You’re going to put on that little black number, I’m gonna help you cover those hickeys, and you’re going to go clubbing with me and Maria.” She smirked as she added, “That’s an order.” 

“Yes ma’am,” you told her, a quiet and genuine laugh finally slipping past your lips as you took her hand and got up off the floor. 

When you met up with Maria, the night felt renewed and you found yourself letting go of your anger and sadness as you got lost in more than a couple frozen margaritas. The three of you danced together into the late hours of the night, making sure to fend off incoming men with playful kisses to each others’ shoulders and cheeks. The three of you giggled every time it happened and by the time the night was over you had found yourself the happiest you had been in a long time, knowing that no matter what happened at least you had these two by your side. 

a/n: honestly it was kinda hard for my Steve Rogers loving ass to write this, but when the urge to write a one shot based off of one of my favorite songs at the moment hit, i had to scratch the itch lol