#steve fic: nature's beauty

[biteofcherry]

Nature’s beauty

mountain rescuer Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: Your teasing comment about staying home barefoot and pregnant makes something in Steve snap. He’s now eager to turn it into reality. 

warnings: consensual; barebacking; breeding kink; housewife kink; light bondage; dubiously consensual taking of risky pictures; lots of filthy talk (not even dirty, just nasty filth); mention of cumplay; established relationship; Steve’s a rescuer but who will rescue us from Steve’s hotness; 

*no squirrels were harmed in the process of writing the story

“Come on. Get out of there!” You huffed, tapping your fingers against the wood of the small birdhouse installed high on the tree trunk. 

It was a birdhouse - and just this morning you saw a small, colorful bird check it out - but some sneaky, red squirrel decided to squat inside it. How did it even fit through the tiny hole, you had no idea. 

You noticed it as you returned from your little hike, seeing a flash of an orange fluffy tail as the squirrel stuffed its tiny butt through the hole. So you tried climbing the tree, not much successfully, and scare the intruder out.

It wouldn’t be a good house for a growing squirrel anyway. 

To prop yourself, you used one of the wooden crates Steve built you for the vegetable garden that you planned on starting. Since it wasn’t enough to reach the birdhouse, you stuck another crate on top of it. The construction swayed a little, but you braced yourself against the tree trunk and reached your hand up to knock on the small wooden house.

“Your nuts won’t fit in there with you!” You called, though it was doubtful the squirrel would understand you. 

The crates wobbled, but before you had a chance to stabilize yourself with both hands on the tree two strong hands gripped your hips and easily lifted you up.

“And what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” Steve’s steady voice calmed your initial panic. 

You melted into his embrace as he set you down on your feet on the ground and spun around to face him. Your immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, straining on your tiptoes to greet him with a kiss.

He’s been gone for nearly two days - his usual shift stretching longer due to a crisis his team had to react to in the higher parts of the mountains. 

“Steve.” You breathlessly whispered his name, smile stretching on your lips. 

So close to the way you looked and sounded when he woke you up with his mouth between your thighs. 

“You’re back.” You pecked his lips once again then grinned. “Just in time for eviction.”

“Eviction?” Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“A squirrel locked herself inside the birdhouse. We need to chase her away. For her own good.” You pointed up at the tree where few weeks ago Steve installed the birdhouse. 

With a shake of his head and an overly dramatic sigh, Steve went to his truck to get his backpack with the climbing gear. He put the crates away - sending you a warning glare for coming up with a dangerous idea of putting your safety on top of them - then tied a rope around the tree to have a leverage for climbing. He reached the birdhouse exceptionally quickly. 

Once he brought it down, you opened the front panel and shooed the squirrel away. It looked at you indignantly, holding a nut in its tiny paws, then scrambled away onto another tree near your house.

“I see you got into serious animal real estate business, even though you only got back home yourself.” Steve chuckled, pointing at your small backpack and the camera placed a few feet away.  

“I went to the valley to take some shots of the early crocuses.” You beamed, picking up your things. 

“But!” You kept close to Steve as you both walked up the porch and into the house. “I prepared a stew earlier and some garlic bread slices that are ready to pop into the oven.”

“Wow. You’re organized like a proper housewife.” Steve snickered, patting your ass. 

“Yeah?” You glanced at him over your shoulder, waggling your eyebrows comically. “You gonna keep me barefoot and pregnant?” 

“We can have that arranged.” Steve wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him. He kicked the door shut behind you and dropped his backpack to the floor. 

“Ah-ah!” You quickly slipped away from his grasp.

You turned around with a grin, mischievous sparks lighting your eyes. You lifted the camera and clutched it protectively to your chest. 

“Gotta put the fragile goods into safety first, before you go all patriarchal on me.”

“You’ll never forgive me that vase, won’t you?” Steve hung his head in shame, but he couldn’t suppress the proud smirk on his face. 

The pretty, pink glass vase became a collateral damage when the two of you resolved a minor argument with hot, angry sex. 

Steve bent you over the table and fucked you so hard that your hands flailed helplessly around and you knocked the vase off the table. As the glass shattered all over the floor, you gushed around Steve’s cock with a scream that surely carried through the mountain range. 

“That orgasm was worth the sacrifice.” You laughed, disappearing into the bedroom. 

“But my camera is too precious to risk it!” The cottage you and Steve were living in wasn’t tiny, but small enough that your voice easily reached other parts of the house if you raised your volume a bit. 

“Duly noted!” Steve called back. 

He walked into the kitchen where the faint smell of stew lingered in the air. He sat down on one of the chairs and bent down to unlace his shoes, smiling to himself as he thought of you cooking and dancing around the kitchen.

You were quite messy when you cooked, even worse when you baked. But there was no hotter sight than you naked on your knees on the tiled floor, with smears of flour on your face and then his cum dribbling down your chin. 

Suddenly, provoked by your recent words, an image of you walking around the kitchen pregnant flashed through Steve’s head. 

He saw you glowing and round, cutting strawberries with a smile as he whisked the batter for pancakes. You’d snack on the strawberries, claiming to be hungry and impatient to wait for breakfast. He’d take the fruit from you with a laugh, lick the sticky juice off your fingers. Then go on his knees to pleasure you until you can’t stand upright anymore.

He imagined you bent over the sink, hands in soapy water from washing dishes, as he fucked you slowly from behind - unable to keep his hands away from your pregnant belly, needing to take you as soon as he comes home from his shift. 

He easily pictured you carrying a toddler on your hip, bouncing the kid lightly as you walk barefoot around the house, the swell of your belly growing with another baby. 

You’d take the kids to the meadows, play with them and take stunning photographs of the nature and of the kids exploring its beauty. You’d chase away squirrels and tend to your vegetable garden - happiness radiating off your faces. You’d cook meals and try new baking recipes, and you all would eat together. 

And later in the evening, when he puts the oldest kid to bed and you nurse the newborn baby to sleep, he’d take you again. 

Fill you full through your needy cries, letting the nature take its course with your body as well.

Steve was so deep in this unexpected rush of craving he didn’t hear your soft footsteps at first. Only when you called his name upon entering the kitchen did he look up.

There you were - feet bare on the floor, your pants replaced with soft, cotton pajama shorts, and in his t-shirt which you liked to wear around the house. 

All that was missing from the fantasy was your pregnant belly stretching the fabric of the tee.

Steve crooked a finger at you, wordlessly calling you over. 

You noticed the heat in his gaze, how wider his pupils got and that his lips were slightly parted on a quickened breath. It was a look signaling some mindblowing pleasure coming your way, though you weren’t exactly sure what caused it at the moment. 

You walked over, straddling Steve’s lap and placing your hands on his shoulders. His palms spread over your ass, fingers kneading your flesh and forcing you to rock against him.

Against his undoubtedly growing, impressive erection. 

“I feel that you’re really happy to see me.” You grinned at Steve, but couldn’t help yourself from rubbing against him.

“Always.” Steve muttered and kissed you. 

His lips were soft, but the way he used them was anything but gentle. He took possession of your mouth, tongue slipping between your parted lips to tease a moan out of your throat. 

Your fingers weaved into his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp and causing Steve to purr. 

He gave your asscheek a smack. Not exactly painful, but firm enough to elicit a squeak out of you and have you buck against him. 

“I want to fuck you bare.” Steve growled, hips pushing up into you. 

“Wha-” your mouth was still chasing his lips, your mind not yet fully catching up with his request. 

Steve gave your ass another slap and tilted his head back, so your gaze focused on his eyes and what he was saying.

“I want to fuck you bare.” He repeated, his voice low and raspy with dark need. 

“I want to fill you up and breed you.” 

You shivered at his words. Your nipples tightened into hard peaks and your clit throbbed. 

“You’re serious.” Your voice came out breathless, your throat suddenly dry.

Steve and you talked about having kids before, but it was all vague; nothing beyond agreeing that you wanted to build a family together, sometime. In the far future. 

Since it was a unspecified future and your health didn’t allow for you to take pills or hormonal shots, Steve always had a strip of condoms at hand. Even in the spur of the moment quickies on your hikes, he always sheathed himself. You never took him bare.

Never felt him fill your pussy with his cum. 

“What’s that thought, sweetheart?” Steve leaned forward and nipped your bottom lip when you let out an involuntary moan at the thought of being full of him. 

“We’ve never done it bare.” You rubbed your heated core over his clothed cock. “I only had your cum in my mouth, or on my body.”

Corner of Steve’s mouth tilted in a smirk. He slid one of his hands to grip the back of your neck as he licked a wide stripe from your throat over your chin and up to your lips.

“I promise to still let you play with my cum from time to time, doll.” He kissed you again.

With your big eyes full of wonder, you always liked him to paint your body with white streaks of his spent. You stuck your little tongue out, swallowed him greedily, and scooped up every drop from your skin. 

“But from now on, we’ll mostly fill your sweet cunt with it.” 

You felt his dick twitch beneath you as he said those words. You felt your own panties and shorts dampen with your growing slick. 

“What do you say, sweetheart?” Steve nudged the tip of your nose with his affectionately. “Want to get pregnant?”

“Pregnant and barefoot?” You huffed a breathy laugh, realizing it was your own words from earlier today that spurred Steve’s desire.

“Well, some days are really cold out here, so I think we can skip the barefoot part.” He smiled against your lips. “But we’re definitely doing the pregnant part.”

You were constantly grinding against him, your breasts pressed and rubbed against Steve’s chest. Growing heat consumed you and you wanted, needed, Steve to sate the fire he ignited. You felt as if your body wouldn’t calm down until he spilled inside you, like he promised.

“Yes!” You captured Steve’s mouth, clinging to him even closer. 

“Yes, Steve!” You head fell back as he kissed and bit down your throat. “Fuck a baby into me!” 

In rushed moves, surprisingly efficient considering how both of you were trembling with impatience, you undid Steve’s pants and took him into your hand. He pushed your shorts and panties to the side. 

You both moaned as you slid down his cock. The feel of his hot flesh without the latex cover made your toes curl. 

It was quick and brutal, really; your thighs burned as you bounced up and down on his length. A tearing sound, as Steve yanked on your t-shirt, didn’t falter your pace. 

Your climax came as dizzying, filling the house with your scream and Steve’s loud groan following soon after. 

Nothing but the pounding of your hearts and heavy breathing, as you sat tangled and spent. A little mewl of surprise bubbled on your lips when you felt Steve’s cock twitching and spurting more of hot come inside your fluttering walls. 

It was hotter and wetter than how it felt ever before; and the thought of Steve’s cum filling up through your cervix made your pussy clench around him. 

When you slid off him a while later, a thick dollop of cum dribbled out of you. Steve put your panties back in place, cotton quickly filling and staining with the mixture of juices. 

“That won’t do.” Steve frowned, as he pulled the waistband of your panties and glanced at the mess between your swollen folds. 

“You’re dripping it all over and it has to take.” 

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant - your brain fuzzy from the aftershocks and bliss - Steve picked you up. 

He carried you to the bedroom and dropped you onto the bed. He got his t-shirt over his head in a split of a second, then moved your pliant body around, getting rid of all of your clothes as well. 

“Stay here.” He pointed at you and walked out of the bedroom.

You did enjoy the view of his naked ass moving. As well the way muscles in his back flexed. 

When Steve returned, he had three climbing ropes in his hands.

“What are you planning mister rescuer?” You arched a brow. 

He merely winked at you, joining you on the bed and straddling you. He weaved the blue cord around your wrists, binding them to the headboard. One of the red ropes tied around your left ankle; the other around the right. 

You expected Steve to tie your legs to the foot of the bed, but instead he bent your legs at the knees and pushed them up toward your chest and slightly to the sides. The ends of the rope he tied to the headboard as well. 

Once he was done, your breath was quickened again, as your vulnerable exposed position registered. 

“Now,” Steve knelt back and ran a finger up your ass, “all my cum will stay nicely snug in your pussy.”

He scooped whatever dribbled out of you and pushed it back into your quivering cunt. He was right. In this improvised bondage version of a mating press, your hips were tilted up enough for the gravity to work in favor of impregnation. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve looked at you, love and desire shining in his eyes.

From your gorgeous face, hair sticking to your sweaty skin; your breasts shaking with each breath and your lovely legs strained and bound; to your gorgeous ass and glistening, swollen folds. 

A thick trickle of his cum lingered just below your leaking hole. He moved his hand slowly up your ass, reaching up to push that one drop back inside you.

“I wish I could preserve this image forever.” He murmured.

Then paused. 

Slowly, Steve’s gaze shifted from your pussy to your face. His eyes darkened and a naughty, evil really, smirk curved his mouth. 

“What are you thinking, Steve?” You asked warily, partly scared of his wicked idea and partly excited. 

Steve got off the bed, but returned rather quickly. 

With your camera in his hands. 

“You can’t be serious.” You squeaked, squirming against your bonds. But they were fucking secured top notch, you were unable to even pull your legs closer together.

“Why not?” Fingers of his left hand returned to your heated skin while he held the camera in his right hand. “You take photographs of nature. What’s more natural than this?”

He traced one of your swollen folds and pulled it slightly to the side, exposing your hole and the white cream filling it.

A shutter clicked. First photo of your pussy saved on the memory card. 

Steve took a few more photos, from different angles. Some close-ups of his cum, some a wider perspective including your stretched body visible between your spread legs. 

He moved closer, kneeling up and positioning his hardened cock between your sopping folds. 

He moaned as he watched his dick slide back and forth; looked up at your face and held your gaze when you whimpered as the head of his cock bumped against your swollen clit repeatedly. 

“What’s more natural than a pretty cunt serving its purpose?” Steve rasped out, guiding the tip into your opening. 

He angled the camera again, snapping a picture of your pussy opening up for him. Then a series of photos as he slowly pushed inside. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re taking me so good.” Steve bit down on his lip as he thrust deeper. “Such a fucking beautiful sight.” 

He flipped the camera function to video, recording as he buried himself in your wet cunt. Your wrecked moan at the stretch, too. And the squelching sound of a filled pussy. 

Steve’s free hand rested on your mound, thumb drawing the hood over your clit up and then resting on the hardened nub. Your hips bucked when he started rubbing. 

He tilted the camera up, making sure to register all of your body before focusing on your face. You whined his name aloud.

When you noticed the camera pointed at you, you closed your eyes and turned your head to the side embarrassed. 

“Don’t be shy on me, sweetheart.” Steve cooed, maintaining a steady pace. “You’re stunning. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. And your pretty, little pussy-”

He returned the lens between your spread thighs, recording every detail of his cock driving into you. 

His dick shined with your juices and remnants of his cum. Your folds were puffed and darkened, and your clit crushed under his big thumb. Your wetness smeared around, glistening on your ass and thighs, as well shimmering on the hair above Steve’s cock.

“She’s swallowing me, doll. Greedy, little pussy.” Steve growled, picking up his rhythm.

“What she’s hungry for, sweetheart? Huh?” Though his hand was shaking slightly, he managed to move the camera so it was recording your face again. 

“Tell me, what she’s hungry for?” He delivered a firm smack atop your clit that made you squeak and clench around him.

“It’s hungry for your cum!” You cried out.

You felt the heat engulf you whole, felt it almost burn the skin off your cheeks from the inside.

Steve always had a penchant for dirty talk, but it wasn’t always as nasty. Just a few lines here and there. Something about fucking you bare, trying to knock you up, made him wilder. And he forced you to interact along with him.

“Wants to be filled?” Steve’s raspy voice prompted again, another slap stinging your clit. 

“It wants to be filled so bad!” Your need overcame the embarrassment.

With your eyes still closed, you babbled all the filth you were shy to admit, but everything you knew Steve wanted to hear.

“Wants you to fuck it hard and come inside. Please, Steve. Need you- Need you to make me take it! Fill my belly and make it swell!” 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Steve nearly came at the sputter of your dirty words. “My sweet, fucking, dirty girl.”

He put the camera down on the side of the bed. He didn’t bother to switch it off. 

It recorded a slightly blurred angle of Steve’s hips driving into you, his balls slapping against your butt as he leaned fully on top of you and bottomed out.

It recorded the sounds of your bodies - wet squelching, skin slapping, Steve’s heavy groans and your high pitched cries; and filthy demands.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart.” Steve stretched himself over you and propped his weight on his forearms on both sides of your head.

“I am! I am, I’m so close, Steve!”

Your body wanted to move along with his, to rock up into him and touch him, but your tied limbs prevented you from doing so. You could only lay there and take whatever Steve gave you. However he gave it.

“I’ll get you there, I promise.” He nipped along your jaw, lavishing each sting with a lick of his tongue. “First, though-” he paused to kiss you fully.

A surprisingly thorough kiss, considering how frantically his hips were pumping you.

Steve’s voice turned into a low, gravelly growl.

“Tell me your purpose, my sweet fuck doll.”

So close to the edge that your toes were curling, you weren’t resilient enough to fight for more dignity. You knew what hot, humiliating words Steve fished for.

And you knew you could scream them out, because once he untied you and you left the bedroom, Steve would respect you like he always did. He would worship the ground you walk on and cherish you. Give you the stars, if he could.

“My p-purpose-” your voice choked on a moan as Steve angled his hips, driving his cock into that spongy, oversensitive spot inside you.

With a whine you dropped your gaze down, unable to look right into Steve’s eyes as you cried out the words.

“To be bred! Fuuuuck. To be bred and have your babies! Be y-your, ah, little housewife. To serve you, serv- Fuck! Steve!”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Steve groaned, leaning his forehead against yours.

He slowed his pace, but each snap of his hips drove his cock into you deep and rough. Skilled, coarse fingers maneuvered between your bodies, finding your clit.

A few strokes over your nub combined with the incessant pounding into your sweet spot were enough to push you over the edge.

You clenched your hands around the ropes that tied your wrists to the headboard as you shattered. Steve’s choked, low moans lost in the sound of your keening, as he came right after you.

Steve dragged his lips across your cheek toward your lips. Kissed you slowly, and wet. Your ragged breaths mingled, a string of saliva stretching between your mouths and popping.

He remained buried inside you, his cock twitching and spurting more cum into your clenching channel.

“I fucking love you.” Steve breathed heavily, a huff of chuckle at the end of his confession.

“Mhmm. I love you, too.” You opened your eyes halfway. “You perv.”

You both laughed, a quiet, intimate sound between lovers that knew each other to the tiniest bone.

With a displeased groan, Steve pushed himself up. He was careful as he sat back, not wanting to slip out of your pussy too quickly.

His gaze focused on your joined bodies as he withdrew inch by inch. His cock glistened with thick cream; your walls fluttered at the friction. He admired your open hole for a moment then squeezed your puffed folds between his fingers.

“Gotta keep it in, sweetheart.” Steve tugged on your folds lightly, keeping them pinched between his fingers.

“I could make you come again. Help your pussy swallow more of it into your womb.” His eyes, still hazy with desire, drifted back to your face.

You groaned. Your cunt clenched at the mere idea of another orgasm shattering your body.

“How about we leave it as it is for now?” You wiggled your butt as much as you could in your restraints. “You can do more nasty things to me in the upcoming days.”

Because you knew if you allowed Steve to make you come again now, he’d use his mouth. And if he used his mouth, he would switch into the overstimulation mindset - he always did that when he went down on you.

You were plenty ruined today without that.

“As you wish.” Steve sighed, with exaggerated disappointment.

“But I’m keeping your legs tied up for a bit longer.” He announced, releasing your folds and patting them less than gently.

You squeaked and glared at him, but it only made him grin.

“Better untie my hands.” You said, making a comically frowny face. “So I can call for the mountain rescuing service to save me from a brutal bear’s captivity.”

Steve laughed and plopped down on his ass, then stretched himself on the bed crosswise. He reached for the camera and finally turned recording off.

He did switch to a browsing mode, though.

“Stop working yourself up again!” You reprimanded him when you realized why Steve moaned suddenly. “Untie me and bring me food.”

“Isn’t it your purpose to serve me food, little housewife?” Steve propped himself on his elbows and looked at you with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t do that while I’m bound.” You smiled sweetly.

Steve moved up and leaned over you, untying the ropes around your hands in two swift moves. He rubbed the skin on your wrists then placed a soft kiss on each.

“Hmm, brutal bear has to think of ways to keep you full and still able to do your housewife duties.” He winked at you.

“Yes, yes, can you think of that while we’re eating?” You rolled your eyes.

As on cue, your stomach rumbled.

“You stew here.” Steve moved down your body and kissed your abdomen, then hopped off the bed. “I’ll reheat everything. Want some wine, too?”

Slipping his pants back on, Steve left the bedroom. And you inside it.

With your legs still up and spread, your hips tilted up and cum brewing in your cunt.

“Are you fucking serious?!” You yelled after him.

His response was an impudent snicker.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #chris evans smut #mountain rescuer steve rogers #mountain rescuer steve rogers x reader #steve fic: nature's beauty

[navybrat817]

I wish I had a smitten Bucky. Just sees me and wants me. 🥺

I know the feeling, nonnie.

Check Yes or No

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky instantly falls for you, but waits to ask you out.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, could be seen as instalove on Bucky's side, attraction, slight insecurities, minor time jump, Alpine being the best, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I can't send Bucky your way, lovelies, so I hope you enjoy this short, surprise fic! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't looking for love the day he met you, but it found him anyway.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat when he walked into the conference rooms and nodded to the spot beside him that you occupied. “I’d like you to meet our newest transfer. She’s also moving into the Tower.”

He was a changed man the moment your eyes met. Breathtaking was a word to describe you given how he had forgotten to breathe. He had witnessed many sunrises and sunsets in his life, a kaleidoscope of colors painted in the sky to both soothe and awaken the soul. They paled in comparison to the beauty before him.

One glance and he belonged to you completely.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

While he wasn't sure if Heaven existed, you speaking his name was like hearing the voice of an angel.

“I’m Bucky.”

Of all the things he could've said, reiterating his name was what his mouth went with.

Instead of giving him a weird look or brushing him off when he scowled at himself, you smiled. “I look forward to us working together.”

Bucky couldn't tell you what the meeting was about that day, but he remembered the details about you. The way you leaned forward in your seat to pay extra attention when someone else spoke, also giving him an ample view of your chest before he reminded himself not to stare. The slight crease in your forehead when you jotted down an important note. And the soft giggle you let out when Steve cracked a joke.

He suddenly wished he was funnier.

“Have a good rest of the day, Bucky,” you said when the meeting ended.

Bucky didn't have to try to smile with you. It just came naturally. When you smiled back, it was easy to imagine what it would be like if you were his girl.

“You, too,” he replied, giving himself a mental victory for not screwing up his words this time. “Wait!”

You paused and looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

Bucky realized he had no reason to keep you from leaving. He just didn't want you to go. “Do you need help moving your stuff in?”

“I actually got my things moved in late last night, but thanks for the offer,” you replied, checking the time with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry. I have to go. I’m in 2L if you need anything!”

“Bye,” he called after you, turning in his chair to watch you go.

How did he miss you already?

Though Steve had a knowing look in his eyes, he graciously kept his mouth shut as he left the room. He reminded him an hour later that he wouldn't break any bylaws by asking you out. The punk somehow knew that you weren't seeing anyone.

Which made him happy.

While he appreciated Steve looking out for happiness, he still had to get his head on straight.

“Once I completely trust my own mind, maybe I will,” Bucky said, even though the stuff was already out of his head. He owed it to himself to take his time. And you.

Imagine his surprise when he found a note from you on his door the next day.

Hey, Bucky! Lunch on me today? Check YES or NO.

The lopsided grin on his face wouldn't go away when he read it again. You must've been interested in him enough to ask about him. How else did you know his apartment number? Why else would you ask him to lunch?

He nearly shouted “YES” in the hall before he came to his senses and simply checked the option before he returned the note to your apartment door.

When he met up with you later, he told himself it wasn't a date. It couldn't be, right? It didn't keep his heart from stopping when you answered your door. Dressed down and casual, you looked like an angel went to Earth just for him.

“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled. “Ready to go?”

He hadn't said much on the way to the cafe since he was too busy hanging on to your every word, but it was like he had known you for ages as you carried on the conversation. Your questions weren't invasive and you didn't seem to mind the occasional short answers. It was also the shortest meal of his life, over too soon for his liking, and he also refused to let you pay for his meal.

He wanted to show you that gentlemen still existed.

“Lunch again next week?” You offered.

“Sure,” he answered, his head spinning from giddiness.

But it wasn't a date.

It was time to change that.

Today was the day. Six months from the day he met you. Six months of chatting with you between missions and slowly getting to know you over weekly lunches. Six months of falling for you more and more each day and he finally worked up the courage to ask you out.

But falling was the easy part. Confessing was an entirely different story. He would either crash to the ground and hope his wounds would later heal or you’d catch him as he fell. No matter what, he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Just like we practiced, okay?” Bucky asked.

“Meow.”

Alpine nuzzled her head against Bucky’s with a gentle purr when he huffed. She was his little partner-in-crime through and through. Like you, even though you didn't realize it, the little white ball of fur helped save him. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to bring her to this floor, but any reprimand would be worth it.

Besides, the Tower, office, anywhere they operated should allow them to have their pets with them, especially for emotional support.

“I'm counting on you,” he teased, placing the folded up piece of paper in her mouth. “Go.”

He peeked around the corner when he set Alpine down. The sun illuminated you from where you sat in the lounge, curled up in your normal spot on the sofa. You liked to relax there occasionally to read. He wondered what book you had with you today.

Thankfully, no one was around to disturb you.

Except for him.

“Alpine, is that you?” You asked when you looked up, closing the book as the cat approached you. While the feline was cautious of some, she warmed up to you immediately when you met and solidified that you were the one for him. “Whatcha got there? Where’s Bucky?”

His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds.

He held his breath when Alpine jumped up beside you, opened her mouth, and dropped the paper in your lap. He immediately began to second guess himself when you unfolded it with a furrowed brow. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why didn't he just ask you like a normal guy?

To be fair, he hadn't been normal for some time.

“Will you go out with me? Check YES or NO. Love, Bucky,” you read out loud with a huge smile, which was enough to make his heart race. You giggled a moment later when Alpine bumped your hand, the soft noise making his stomach do a funny sort of flip. “Okay, okay. Let me get my pen out of my bag.”

Bucky exhaled a little as he moved to stand in the doorway. You didn't toss the paper away, so that had to be a good sign. He carefully kept himself from showing any outward emotion when you met his gaze, but his knees nearly gave out. His palms also began to sweat when you gave him a half smile.

Just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful than you had the day before, you proved him wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair and hoped he looked halfway decent since he hadn't brushed it. But you commented a few weeks back that you liked it long when you saw an old photo, so he wanted to grow it out. He lost count of how many times he imagined your fingers in his hair

Maybe one day.

Watching you grab your pen, it was like he was drowning. The tide pulled him under as you made a mark on the sheet. His lungs burned when you handed it back to Alpine. He couldn't come up for air. He couldn't breathe.

Until you smiled again.

“Thanks, Alpine,” you said.

His cat gracefully walked back to Bucky and he swore he caught you trying not to giggle as she climbed up his leg. His heart hammered in his chest when he took the slip of paper from her mouth. Meeting your tender gaze, he couldn't bring himself to open it though.

After he told himself he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Not going to see what my answer is?” You asked as he carried Alpine into the lounge.

“I want to,” he replied, sighing as he took a seat beside you. His cat was perfectly content to lay in his lap. “But I’m questioning if I did this the right way.”

The note you gave him for a simple lunch request may have been a small gesture in your eyes, but it meant the world to him. He thought by asking you out this way that he could give you something meaningful in return. Something that only the two of you shared.

That was all he wanted.

You turned toward him, your knee touching his. The small touch sent heat down his spine. “Open it and you’ll find out.”

He nodded, thankful that his vibranium hand didn't shake as he lifted the sheet. “Wait, let me say something before I do.”

The corner of your lip tugged as you tried not to smile. “Bucky-”

“I like you. I really like you. I have since the day we met. And I'm going to like you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that,” he admitted in a rush, catching your sharp inhale as he looked into your eyes. “But I know my past isn't easy to deal with. If you just want to be a teammate or colleague, that’s okay. Just. Being a part of your life in some way is more than enough.”

Alpine lifted her head and looked between the two of you, as if she was waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Bucky felt a crack in his heart when you didn't speak or react, his body slumping slightly into the couch. It was okay. He took a chance and told you how he felt. He wouldn't force you to reciprocate.

“Bucky?” You asked above a whisper, reaching over to help him unfold the paper. He gasped when he saw the checkmark beside “YES”, blinking rapidly to make sure you picked that box. “I really like you, too.”

“You do?” He exhaled, grasping your hand with renewed joy. He was careful not to squeeze too hard. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Yeah. Pretty much since the day I met you,” you admitted, glancing in your lap before you met his gaze again. He saw stars in your eyes. “And your past isn't your fault, Bucky. You aren't something to ‘deal with’, okay? You’re a good man. I can give you a whole list of reasons if you need it.”

Physically, Bucky’s body was in peak condition. Your confession, however, caused all of the air to leave his lungs and made him weak in the best possible way. A familiar warmth moved through Bucky’s veins as he breathed again and it dawned on him at that moment that he hadn't felt cold since you walked into his life.

Not once.

Your faith in him gave him strength. Your mere existence gave him the courage to try. And he didn't have to go it alone.

“Wow,” he breathed, relieved and elated as he gave you a small smile. “How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date,” you smiled.

“Great,” he smiled back. A date. He couldn't wait to see the look on Steve's face when he told him that he finally asked you out.

“And I think the note was purrfect,” you teased at Alpine before you scrunched up your face. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”

Bucky brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it as gently as he possibly could. He could hear your heart race. So was his. “Not at all.”

He knew it was too soon to say he loved you and it was likely too soon for you to feel that way about him, but he felt hope in your smile that you would one day.

For now, he had a date to plan all because you checked “yes”.

We know it'll be the best date ever, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff

[bucksangel]

milk and honey

pairing: alpha!Steve x alpha!Bucky, alpha!Steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly)

word count: 7.9k

Summary: “Are you sure about this, Steve?” Bucky just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different. 

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot”

or - alpha’s Bucky and Steve decide to bring an omega into their relationship. 

Warnings: fluff out the assssss, flirting, reader is a little awkward, there are parts where it’s just Steve and Bucky, kissing, omegaverse, bucky is a tease, steve is very fond, handjobs, wet dreams, allusions to sex, 18+

a/n: this fic is dedicated to my heart and soul @buckysbarne

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar

“Hi! How can I help you?” A soft, honeyed voice sounds through the air, flowing up to Steve’s ears and making his skin tingle. He suddenly feels warm all over, and not because of the thick coat covering his broad shoulders to prevent the crisp autumn wind whipping outside from stinging his skin. 

Slowly, he turns around, swallowing thickly at the sight before him.

A beautiful, young Omega with eyes that sparkle in the natural sunlight that shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her hair is pulled away from her face as best as possible and there are splatters of paint on the apron wrapped around her torso, as well as specks on her fingers. And her scent, oh God, the scent wafting up to his nostrils makes him want to rumble and puff out his chest, lavender and vanilla mixed with something undeniably and uniquely sweet that makes it hard for him to not lean forward and bury his face in the Omegas neck.

“Um, sir?” The Omega asks again, brows furrowed.

“S-Sorry, I, uh…” Steve trails off, clearing his throat. “I’m looking to get back into drawing, and I saw your studio as I was walking back to my apartment and thought I’d come in to see what you have.”

The Omega nods, a bright smile stretching across her face. “Well, I can show you around if you want? Do you have any specific mediums or pencils you were thinking of?”

Steve nods, a smile of his own now etched onto his face. “Yeah, that’d – that would be great. And, um, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I used to draw with charcoal pencils, but I kind of want to branch out, you know?”

She nods again, her smile widening. “Yeah! Here,” she turns and waves her hand, indicating for Steve to follow her, “I have a bunch of different kinds of paper, and pens, we also have canvases, oh! And paints are over here.”

Steve trails behind her dumbly, nodding along to everything the pretty Omega says and listening to every word that spills out from her glossy lips – and for a moment he wonders if it’s flavored, cherry maybe, then thinks of kissing them to find out.

He doesn’t do that. Of course not. He’s only just met her, yet there’s already just something about her that makes him swoon. She makes him feel alive, like only Bucky can.

Suddenly, though, he’s slamming into her, not having realized she’d stopped in front of him until it was too late. But before she could fall back, Steve reaches for her hips to keep her upright.

The Omega squeals and grasps Steve’s biceps to steady herself. But, even after they’re both back in place, neither one of them removes their hold on the other. It’s silent for a moment, growing tense as Steve stares down at the pretty Omega he’s now holding. And the Omega, this beautiful little thing, is staring back up at him, mouth opening and closing as though she’s trying to find her words. 

And after a few more tense moments, she finds them.

“S-Sir?”

“Steve,” he says quickly. “Um, my name is Steve.”

__________

“My name is Steve.”

Steve.

This man, Steve, is still holding on to your hips, and you can’t help but lightly squeeze his biceps, trying your hardest to not let out another squeak. He’s just so… manly. With his big, capable hands, biceps that you can feel through his coat, and his mouthwatering scent - bergamot and patchouli. There’s also an underlying smell of pure Alpha, the aura that surrounds this man would naturally pull any sane Omega in its orbit.

It takes a moment, but you’re able to snap out of your trance long enough to mumble your name. This makes Steve smile, repeating your name softly before squeezing at your hips and realizing, all at once, how little space there is between you two. Some part of your hindbrain wants to whine at the thought of leaving his space, but you pull away, nonetheless.

“Um, I-“ You try to think of something to say, something to make things a little less tense, and when you glance to your right you see a variety of canvases and remember that you’re at work.

“So, uh, were you thinking of any… pencils you might want?”

Steve clears his throat and nods, smiling at you again.

“Whatever you think is best.”

And that’s how Steve bought way more than you suspect he’ll actually use. But just as he finishes paying, you start fiddling with your fingers, swallowing thickly. You want to say something, maybe give him a reason to come back so you can bask in his presence again. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“I’m hosting an art class in a couple of weeks! And, um, if - if you want to come then I can give you a flyer.”

The smile that Steve gives you is bright, and he starts nodding his head before you even finish the sentence.

“Yeah!” Steve coughs, trying - and failing - to cover up any semblance of desperation in his tone. “That sounds fun.”

You smile at him, your heart beating ever faster. Christ, anyone would think you’d never met an Alpha before. Steve opens his mouth, ready to say something until his phone starts ringing.

His soft sigh is barely audible, grumbling about ‘bad timing.” When he pulls his phone out, he looks up at you with a remorseful smile,

“Sorry, guess I have to go now.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s fine. Here’s the flier.”

“Of course,” Steve says softly, then takes the paper and gives you a wave before turning and walking out of the store.

____________

The door nearly slams open, Steve cringing as he remembers not to use so much strength when nudging the door open with his elbow. But, hey, he has his arms full of art supplies so he can’t use his hands.

“Babe? What’s with all the noise – what the fuck?” Bucky asks incredulously, hands placed on his hips as he stops a few feet from the front door.

“Oh, hey. Do you mind helping me out?” Steve asks with a chuckle, walking further into the apartment and shutting the door with a push of his foot. Bucky sighs but walks towards him with an outstretched arm anyway.

“So,” Bucky says, grabbing a few of the bags and bringing them to the living room. “What’s all this?”

“Oh…” Steve trails off, placing the rest of the bags onto the couch and fiddling with the end of his shirt nervously. “Well, I went to the new art studio that’s down the block.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Bucky laughs, peeking into one of the bags and raising an eyebrow. “Did you buy out the whole store?”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, I didn’t, thank you very much. I just want to start drawing again, you know that.”

“I do,” Bucky confirms with a nod. “But I feel like you’re hiding something from me considering you hate oil paints and yet there are several different kinds in here.”

Right then Steve’s heartbeat speeds up, his face warming. And he silently curses himself for being so easy to make flustered. Especially considering Bucky, his mate, can feel through their bond that Steve’s nervous.

“Well, you see-“ Steve coughs, bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I was talking with the owner and she… God, Buck, I think she might be… we’ve been talking about maybe courting an Omega. And I think she could be what we’re looking for. She’s so sweet, so beautiful, just so… perfect. And her scent, oh God. Other than yours, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelt.”

For a minute Bucky doesn’t say anything, his hands return to his hips as he thinks over Steve’s words carefully. After all, they have talked about courting an Omega, they’ve even talked to a few, but none had ever gone far. They just haven’t seemed to find the perfect one for them, so Bucky is naturally a little skeptical. But then he looks into Steve’s eyes, he sees how they sparkle, the way his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, and the sincerity in his voice just seems to win him over.

“Are you sure about this, Stevie?” Bucky asks skeptically, but he just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different.

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

____________

Three days later it’s another chilly day, the clouds hanging overhead and the light rain have sucked all the warmth out of the air. The heater in the studio is on low, yet high enough to warm the space comfortably without it being too overwhelming.

Due to the rain and cold, there weren’t many people in the studio. In fact, it’s just you. There have been only a handful of customers coming in today, so you sent your coworker, Tori, to the back so she could study.

And since everything had been organized and cleaned over an hour ago you find yourself sitting at your easel, tongue poking out of your mouth and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You’ve been here for the last hour, so focused on your painting that you don’t hear the bell ring above the door.

You also don’t hear the footsteps approaching behind you, so you can’t help but let out a slight scream whenever someone taps on your shoulder. Jumping in shock, it takes everything you have to not knock into your easel.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Comes a voice from behind you, deep and soothing. And you can feel your heartbeat increase further, and not because of the scare. No, this man, clearly an Alpha, has a voice that makes you nearly weak in the knees.

Turning, your eyes widen. The most handsome man stands in front of you, wearing a tight red Henley under a leather jacket. His gloved hands rest on your forearms, helping you off your stool in such a way that you don’t knock over your painting. The man’s hands are huge, able to encompass your entire forearm and then some.

It takes a moment to realize that you’re staring, mouth parted and face flushed as you step back to a respectful distance.

“N-no, it’s fine! I should have been paying attention,” You clear your throat to hide the fact that your voice wavers a bit, but the stranger’s smile lets you know that it didn’t work.

You can’t help it though. His smile, though small, is comforting and kind. His deep blue eyes twinkle with mischief, and you can’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks. His beard isn’t thick per se, but just thick enough to complete his rugged look, something that makes you melt. But you kick those thoughts out of your head to the best of your ability until you’re finally able to speak.

“How can I help you?”

____________

“How can I help you?”

Bucky gets it, understands what Steve was saying about the pretty Omega he thought would be perfect for them. He’s heard only a handful of words come out of your mouth, yet he feels his chest tighten, his heart clenching as he exercises a considerable amount of restraint from encasing you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

His hands itch to touch you, to run them over your soft-looking skin. And he can’t help the less innocent thoughts that cross his mind, really feeling your body, caressing. And, to be quite honest, these… intense emotions kind of startle him, because the only person he’s ever felt this way with was Steve.

Nevertheless, he follows his instincts, something deep in him knows that Steve was right when he said you’d be perfect for them.

“I’m waiting for my…” Bucky trails off, thinking about whether he should tell you he has a mate or not, then decides against it. If you knew he wasn’t single you probably wouldn’t be open to his advances, and would probably think it’s weird for a mated Alpha to be flirting with you. After all, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common, and, to be honest, they can be a little intense together.

“My friend. And I haven’t seen this studio before.” Bucky gives you a cheeky smile, trying not to laugh as he sees you fiddling with your fingers, glancing down as though you’re avoiding his gaze.

“I’m Bucky,” He reaches his hand out, letting you slowly put yours in his before he squeezes lightly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand.

You give him your name with a squeak, flushed and nervous in a good way.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” you’re stumbling over your words slightly, and Bucky really can’t stop himself from smiling.

“And it’s lovely to meet you, darling.” Bucky holds his breath, cautiously waiting for your reaction toward the pet name. But it seems like he doesn’t have to worry, because the tiny squeak of delight that spills from your lips confirms to him that you’re, at the very least, open to his advances.

“S-so, um. Did you want to look around?”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head and finally releasing your hand. “The main reason I stepped in here was that I saw the poster in the window about an art class you’re hosting soon. I thought I’d come in so you can meet your new student.”

“Oh!” You smile brightly, wiping your hands along the front of your apron. “I’d love it if you could come! To be honest, I’ve only had a handful of people confirm that they will. I was kind of thinking of canceling, honestly.”

“Oh, don’t do that. There are plenty of people who’d love to come, your business is new so it’s going to take some time for your clientele to grow. Plus, I’ll be sure to tell all of my friends.” While he already hates the idea of other people - especially his unmated Alpha friends - getting personal time with you, he also hates how dejected you sounded about possibly canceling the class.

“Oh, gosh,” Your voice is soft, your eyes twinkling in the bright, natural light. “Well, that’d be very kind of you.”

Bucky chuckles, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Plus, it’ll be nice to see you again.”

Once again, a small noise from the back of your throat makes its way up and out of your mouth. And he can hear your heartbeat speed up, can see the look of embarrassment clear on your face.

And just as you’re about to reply, Bucky’s phone dings. He sighs, pulling it out and glancing down at it.

“Well, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to go now,” He smirks at you, giving you a wink so slight you’d miss it if you weren't staring directly into his eyes.

You nod, giving him a shy and awkward smile. “No, it’s fine! Besides, I’ll see you at the class, right?”

“Oh,” Bucky chuckles, placing one of his gloved hands on your forearm and squeezing tenderly, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

____________

“Who the fuck was that?” A voice behind you says, and when you turn you see it’s Tori looking exasperated.

“I have no idea,” Your voice is small, still unbelieving of what just happened. Your arm still tingles from where he squeezed. You then turn to look back toward the door, a tiny part of you wishing he’d come back in.

“Why do you get all the flirty Alphas? I want my turn!” Her comment makes you laugh, and you can see a hint of a smile cracking through her faux-angered expression. 

“They’re bringing their friends to the art class, maybe you’ll meet one too. Besides…” You trail off bringing your hand up to rub your arm. “Maybe he wasn’t even flirting? I mean, I haven’t lived here long, but a lot of the Alphas that come in here are really nice. Like Steve!”

You were hoping to convince not only her but yourself as well, desperately trying not to read too far into their actions. They could just be friendly, a little touchy but not overbearingly so. Whatever the case, Tori lightly smacks your arm.

“Babe, Steve was flirting with you too.” She rolls her eyes, placing her hands on your shoulders. “You may be shy, but you’re not stupid. They like you! And you need to accept that and go for it.”

“Okay, let’s say they do like me… there’s two of them and one of me. I don’t know if I’d be able to choose between them, especially since I don’t even know them. I wouldn’t want to lead one of them on.” Sighing, your eyebrows furrow, now fiddling with your fingers in anxiety.

Because, let’s be honest, you’re not one hundred percent certain that they were, in fact, flirting with you. Maybe they really are just being nice, maybe that’s how they are with a lot of people. Because Alphas like them don’t like Omegas like you; shy, awkward, introverted, too easily flustered, and so clumsy that there is absolutely no way you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of them at some point.

But it’s fine, because maybe they won’t show up to the class, maybe they’ll have to cancel and you can stay within your comfort zone. Change is scary, meeting new people and - possibly - dating them is scary, and you’ve never really been one to take risks.

Maybe that’s why part of you is hoping they’re not actually interested. However, you cannot deny the fact you’re interested in them. But, if things happen you want them to happen naturally, yet from beside you, Tori hums thoughtfully. In the seconds of silence that follows you know she’s planning on meddling. But before you can tell her to please not do that, she claps her hands together.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll help.” With that, she turns and goes back to the back office, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

____________

Bucky coughs, clearing his throat, then chuckles when Steve jumps in surprise. One of Bucky’s hands settles on his mate’s waist while looking at the bag of food in Steve’s hand.

“You get everything?”

Steve scoffs, moving Bucky’s hand off of his waist and lacing their fingers together. And as they start walking Bucky can hear his mate’s heartbeat pick up, and he smiles to himself. “Yeah, I did. Now…” Steve trails off, running his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it. Bucky squeezes his hand in comfort.

“How did it go?”

Bucky hums, cheeks reddening as he remembers your sweet voice and beautiful smile. While he is able to steel his exterior and become this suave Alpha, he’s really just a teddy bear on the inside. He craves love, he craves touch. And while he loves Steve with everything he has, he has to admit that, even though he’s just met you, he knows you’ll be able to give him the same feelings Steve does.

“God, Stevie…” Bucky sighs, looking over at his love. “I get it. I get what you were saying about her. She’s just - just the loveliest Omega I’ve ever met. And, I swear to God, I wanted to just wrap her in my arms. She might be right for us, Stevie.”

Steve chuckles, his eyes sparkling with joy at hearing his mate confirm his instinct that you’d be perfect for them. One block later they get to their apartment, go inside, and set the food down on the table.

“So, how do you want to approach her about it?” Steve asks as he grabs the plates while Bucky gets out the food.

“Well, she said that she’s hosting an art class, we can go to that.”

“I don’t know, babe,” Steve sighs, setting the plates down and sitting in his chair. “Don’t you think that would be a little… intense? Plus, it’s not common for two Alphas to be mated to each other, what if she’s uncomfortable with it?”

Bucky nods, grabbing drinks and setting one down in front of the other man. “Well, we’ll just talk to her one at a time then. We’ll go in on different days and get her to warm up to us before then.” At Steve’s pensive sigh, Bucky crouches, placing one hand on the back of his neck.

He knows Steve really wants this to work out. He’s a true romantic, and anyone who has ever met Steve knows within the first thirty seconds of talking to him that Bucky is the love of his life. He also knows Steve sometimes needs more, and it’s become worse the more potential mates they meet. And Bucky will be damned if he doesn’t give Steve everything he wants and needs.

“It’s going to be fine, Stevie.” Bucky then leans forward, placing a soft and lingering kiss on the other man’s lips. And he keeps kissing him until Steve hums against his lips.

“You promise?” Steve mumbles softly, eyes still closed.

“I promise.”

____________

Ever since the day you met Bucky, he’s been coming to your studio more and more. Only buying a few items at a time, some of which you’re pretty sure he’s not actually interested in, though he spends most of his time talking to you. And it’s a give-and-take with the conversation. Sometimes Bucky will ask a question and you’ll ramble for twenty minutes on the subject before realizing and promptly shutting your mouth.

Then there are times when Bucky is more so talking at you. Sometimes you just get so anxious that you get a little quiet, deathly afraid of saying anything embarrassing to the very handsome Alpha who likes to spend his time talking with you of all people.

And it’s confusing. And getting harder and harder to convince yourself that the Alpha has no intentions other than simply getting to know you. Every smile he gives you makes you weak in the knees, the way his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches just make you want to melt.

Not to mention the subtle touches every so often. Whether it’s by stepping around you down one of the aisles and placing his hand on your waist to “steady you” should you fall, or by letting his hand graze yours for longer than it should when you hand him his bags, he’s gotten steadily more forward, though none of it is unwelcome. And maybe he can tell by each of your surprised yet pleased squeaks you let out whenever he shows off how good of an Alpha he is - including but not limited to doing the heavy lifting when you have to move some products onto the sales floor, bringing you coffee after you offhandedly mentioned your favorite cafe, and telling you about how he’s fixed up his motorcycle from the ground up, wordlessly showing that he’s mechanically and physically capable.

And on the sixth visit, exactly three days before your class, Bucky comes in once more at exactly noon. He tends to come in around your lunch break, knowing that you typically just paint in the studio while slowly taking bites of whatever food you brought. You’re in the back office sorting through some paperwork when you hear the bell ding above the front door. You don’t worry about going out to greet whoever just came in since Tori was there helping out.

You hear her chipper “Hi! How are you?” and for a moment your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Because who could she possibly be talking to that warrants a little too much enthusiasm?

The voice that responds makes your heart beat a tiny bit faster, the low and raspy tone saying something about visiting a ‘friend’. And then it hits you, it’s Bucky.

Another thought hits you mere seconds later, fuck, Tori’s out there.

And just as that crosses your mind you can hear Tori ask him, “So, you’re Bucky, right?”

Before you have time to think you’re rushing out of the back office, doing your best to listen to their conversation as you speed down the hall.

Bucky chuckles, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds “Yeah, how’d you know?”

You can also tell Tori is smiling when she starts talking again. “Oh, I’ve heard about you once or twice. My friend is the owner of this place, the one you’ve been flirting with, you know?”

You finally turn the corner and face the pair, Tori’s back to you while Bucky looks back at you. You can’t miss the wide smirk on his lips, his pleased scent slowly pouring out from him.

“Yeah? I’ve been flirting?” Bucky winks at you over Tori’s shoulder, apparently finding humor in watching you get flustered.

“Mhm,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, from what she says, I think you like her. And she -” Suddenly she’s being cut off by your hand slapping over her mouth, appearing behind her and grasping her arm with your other hand.

“Okay! That’s it, you have to study!” You snap, glancing up at Bucky’s amused face for half a second before turning Tori around and shoving her toward the back office. “And don’t come out until you’re done with all three chapters!”

Tori huffs then rolls her eyes and trails off, leaving you and Bucky alone. And you feel like you’re on fire, like there’s no part of you that isn’t burning to the touch. Subconsciously your fingers start fiddling with each other, and you can’t bring yourself to look the Alpha in the eye.

“Hey,” He says softly, though still humorous. “It’s okay. She was right, you know?”

You hum in confusion, finally looking up at him even though it takes a lot of willpower to not look away. “What do you mean?”

“I was flirting with you. Is that okay?”

You’re no longer burning up, no. You’re ice cold now. It’s almost as if you’ve fallen into the seas surrounding the Antarctic and everything seems to slow down. Bucky’s been flirting with you? An Alphas been flirting with you? This Alpha? Your heart wants to beat out of your chest and your skin tingles, what are you going to do? What are you going to say?

“Oh.” Apparently, that’s all you can decide on, though you’re snapped out of your haze upon seeing Bucky’s face fall slightly. “No! It’s - I mean, it’s o-okay, if you… you know, are.” Internally you cringe, of all times to trip over your words, it just has to be now.

“Well, I’m glad.” Bucky smiles again, and you find yourself getting lost in his eyes, in the soft gaze and deep ocean-blue hue. A squeak escapes your lips knowing that his fond expression is directed at and because of you.

“I can’t stay long today, unfortunately. But…” Bucky trails off, slipping your hand into his and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “I just wanted to come by and ask if I could treat you to lunch after the class on Saturday.”

“Like… like a - a date?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. Your head is spinning, and you’re positive that Bucky can tell your nerves are building.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a date. Even though I’d very much like it to be.” Bucky smiles, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, earning him a soft yet cautious giggle.

Now, you’re not too sure what to do. Over the past week or so that you’ve known him you’ve become enamored with him. You enjoy his company, he makes you feel safe, and the fact that he listens to your rambling with rapt attention makes you preen.

But, you have to take a moment to gather your thoughts. Because mere hours ago Steve had come in asking the same question - though he had suggested dinner.

Steve has also been coming in quite frequently, though he mostly spends time with you as you paint. He comes in first thing in the morning, knowing that your business is usually slower so he can have more of your attention.

He’s not as forward as Bucky is, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t shown any interest. His approach is more careful; lingering glances, not-so-subtly checking you out whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his gaze drops to your lips every so often whenever you’re speaking to him. Not to mention the way he always compliments your artwork. It’s all so… charming.

His mischievous yet chivalrous persona could pull anyone in, including you. Not to mention, Steve’s bright smile and deep laugh just make your inner Omega want to tilt your head and bare your neck to him.

Interactions with him give you similar feelings when you’re with Bucky, making everything overwhelmingly confusing. Because, like you told Tori, you’d hate to lead one of them on, but you can already tell you’re developing romantic feelings for both Alphas.

And hours ago you’d given Steve a timid ‘yes’ when he asked you out. What are you supposed to do? Suddenly, your lonely inner Omega forcefully pushes its way past all of your negative thoughts and ever-growing anxiety to give Bucky the same answer.

“Okay.” Despite your inner turmoil, Bucky’s bright smile and unfairly cute nose scrunch settle any nerves you’ve been feeling.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I-I’d love to go on a… date. With you.” This time you can’t stop the way you physically cringe at your awkwardness, though Bucky only seems to find it endearing because he laughs softly.

“Awesome,” Bucky breathes out, giving you the softest gaze you’ve ever received, and the amount of restraint it takes for you to not melt into his arms is astounding. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”

“Y-yeah! Of course,” Your voice goes a little high. Jesus Christ, why does he have to be so charming?

At that, the Alpha brings your hand up to his lips at the same time he leans forward and presses a lingering, gentle kiss to your knuckles, looking you in the eye all the while. And the squeak that escapes your lips would almost embarrass you if you weren’t having an out-of-body experience.

“Okay, darling.”

Bucky releases your hand, walks back a few steps, gives you a wink, and then turns around to leave, sparing you one last glance before exiting.

____________

Soft. Warm. Gentle.

Everything is coated in golden honey, cotton-candy clouds, an ever-flowing river.

It’s ecstasy, his body aflame as it moves, rocking forward, pulling back, then pushing forward again. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and short and breathy gasps fill his ears as grunts and groans travel up his throat and out of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes open, and the view makes his heart want to stop.

It’s you, with your arms above your head, body bare to him and, wait. Someone’s behind him. The person's strong arms wrap around his waist and his muscled chest presses against his back, and then a metal hand turns his head to the left. And there’s Bucky, his Alpha. Bucky presses a filthy kiss to his lips while the brunette’s hands rest on his hips, aiding in their movement. With a quick smack to his backside, Steve gets back into the action, grinding his hips against your pelvic bone before slowly pulling out. The force of the forward thrust of his hips causes you to shriek, your breasts bouncing wildly as he continues his harsh thrusts.

It takes no time at all for Steve to feel his knot throb, threatening to expand and lock into your sweet pussy as he fills you with his cum. He’s close. Oh so fucking close when you moan.

“Alpha!”

Steve wakes with a gasp, his eyes flying open and heart racing as he tries in vain to cling onto any remnants of sleep, desperately hoping to finish the dream - his first wet dream in a while.

“Stevie?” Bucky appears from his left, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping from the shower. “You okay, Alpha?”

Steve shudders, the way you sweetly moaned for him, for your Alpha, coming to the front of his mind, and his cock throbs in a rude reminder of his current predicament.

“Y-yeah, I’m, fuck…” Steve trails off, his hand sneaking under the covers and grasping the base of his cock. “I’m good, baby. Just…”

“Just had a wet dream?” Bucky chuckles, walking over to their bed and sitting sideways on it so he can face Steve and run a hand through his already messed-up hair. “I could hear you whimpering from the shower.”

Bucky then flings the covers back, shooing Steve’s hand away from his cock so Bucky can grasp it. “I heard you whining for her, our sweet little Omega. She’s perfect, isn’t she? She’s so small compared to us, bet we’d break her the first time we get our knots in her perfect pussy.”

Bucky’s hand is jerking Steve off in earnest, his grip is tight as he strokes and pulls and flicks his wrist every so often. And Steve is helpless but to let him, to listen to his mate spout filth of how well you’d take them, how sweet you’d be for them, how he’d let Steve be the first to take you. He takes everything he’s given, gripping the sheets tight enough that he’s sure they're tearing, letting his pleasure climb higher and higher by the second.

But what really sets him off is Bucky’s growl, “I had to jerk myself off in the shower just listening to you moan for our Omega.” Steve cums with a shout, his eyes clenching shut, and he’d be embarrassed about how fast he came if it weren’t for the extremely vivid dream he just woke up from.

It takes a few moments for Steve to get his bearings until he’s finally able to open his eyes and meet Bucky’s playful gaze. Steve wants to feel bad about dreaming about you when you’re not even theirs, but he just can’t bring himself to do so. Just thinking of you made him shoot off like a rocket, he doesn’t really know how he’s going to handle actually being with you.

But they hadn’t even taken you on a date yet, and they both get the feeling it might take a while before you feel comfortable enough to give yourself over to them like that. But that doesn’t matter, because Steve is sure that he and Bucky will wait however long is needed for you to feel comfortable like that with them.

“So,” Bucky says with a smirk, bringing his hand up to lick Steve’s cum off of his hand. Steve groans in response. “You feelin’ better about today?”

Ever since they both asked you out neither has gone back to your studio, they didn’t want to make you anxious since they knew they both asked you out and you might get even more conflicted if you saw them again since then. Steve’s been worried. He doesn’t want to back out, God no. He just… he really wants this to work out. And every awful scenario keeps playing in his mind on a loop.

What if you get too overwhelmed with both of them together? What if you turn them down when you realize they’re mated? What if you’re disgusted and don’t even want to be their friend? What if -

“Stevie.” Bucky’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and Steve sighs. “Stop thinking too hard, it’s going to be fine.”

“But-”

“No, Steve.” Bucky sighs and gets off the bed, then he crouches down so his face is level with his mate’s. “I promised you, didn’t I? I promised that everything would work out and I’m going to fulfill that promise today. We’re going to go to the class, explain everything to her, and ask her out together.”

Bucky pauses to lean forward and press a kiss to Steve’s lips.

“She likes you, baby. And she likes me. That’s why she agreed to go out with us. It might be a little weird for her since two mated Alphas aren't common, especially since she doesn’t seem used to Alphas flirting with her at all. But, it’s going to be okay in the end. Everything will work out.”

Bucky kisses Steve again, and Steve gives his Alpha a gentle smile.

“I love you, Alpha.”

Bucky smiles back and says, “I love you too, Alpha.”

____________

“Okay, okay, okay,” You mumble to yourself, running your hands down the front of your apron for the hundredth time. “Everything is going to be okay. They don’t know you’re going out with both of them, everything is going to be fine.”

Sighing, you mumble another ‘I can do this’ before turning around, jumping in shock when you see Tori standing in front of you.

“Jesus Christ, Tori! Warn a girl, will you?”

Tori laughs, smirking. “Sorry, I just thought I’d tell you that your Alpha, Bucky, is here with some friends but I didn’t want to interrupt your pep-talk.”

Oh shit, in your panic you didn’t even realize your class starts in less than ten minutes. But then you realize a certain word she used. Your Alpha.

“He’s not my Alpha. He’s just… an Alpha that happens to like me and wants to take me on a date.”

Your eyes widen in horror, because the realization that you’re actually going on a date with him, and, separately, Steve, in just a few hours is hitting you in full force.

Oh God, how am I going to survive today?

Tori pulls you out of your thoughts, literally, by grabbing your bicep and leading you out of the back office.

“Whatever you say, babe. Now, let’s not keep him waiting.”

When you get to the studio part of your store you see him, well, them. It’s Bucky, surrounded by about ten other people, all talking and laughing. Wow, he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d bring all of his friends.

There are about five other people milling about, looking at all the different canvases and paints available for the class. It makes you happy that you had so many people show up, even if most of them probably had to be convinced to come.

There’s just one person missing; Steve. It’s only two minutes from twelve, and you can’t help the disappointment at the fact that he probably forgot or, worse, was just joking about being interested in you and doesn’t actually want to see you.

It hurts you, deeper than it probably should, but you mask the hurt when you get up to Bucky and his friends.

“Um, hi, Bucky,” You say softly, glancing over at his friends all looking at you with knowing smirks.

“Ah!” The Alpha says, smiling widely at you. “Hello, darling.”

It takes everything in you for you to not melt right into the floor, both from embarrassment from having his friends chuckle in amusement as well as his smooth yet low tone directed at you.

You turn slightly to the group of people behind him, all giving you amused expressions and small waves. You wave back at them with an awkward smile, then turn back to the Alpha in front of you. “Um, I… It’s nice of you to come.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky winks at you, and you press your lips shut so as to not let out the high-pitched whine that wants to be set free.

After a tense few seconds of silence, Tori appears from beside you. “I hate to break up your moment but it’s time to start.”

“Oh! R-right.” Your heart is racing ever so slightly, but it’s also hurting. Because it seems like Steve really did bail.

That is until you ask everyone to sit wherever they want. Bucky sits at the front, taking the easel closest to you. His friends and the other patrons all sit as well, and one spot remains open, right next to Bucky.

The bell above the door dings, and your head whips up to see the Alpha in question rushing through the door. He gives you a wide smile, and immediately makes his way to the empty seat.

Fuck.

“Sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine!” Your heart rate increases again, and you don’t know how you’re going to survive this class, especially considering Bucky is already giving you a heady gaze.

“O-okay, everyone, let’s get started.”

Surprisingly, the class goes by pretty smoothly. However, the intense stares from both Steve and Bucky, as well as their smirks and Bucky’s occasional winks, make you stutter over your words every once in a while. That would cause Bucky’s friends to snicker and smirk. Though it seems relatively harmless, simply finding amusement in watching you get flustered over flirting with Bucky but not with any malice.

Still, it’s going well.

It’s not until you tell everyone to put down their brushes that your nerves return, hoping that Steve won’t stick around and you can just meet him at the diner he suggested.

But, fate has other plans. Because Bucky’s friends stand and choose to hang around the window, looking at some of your other displayed paintings. The others came up to you with thanks, complimenting your work as well as your teaching skills, all of which make you smile so wide you’d think it’d hurt.

But then they leave, and after the last lone customer leaves, you turn and see, oh no. Fuck. Steve and Bucky are talking, laughing, standing way too close to one another for two people who don’t know each other. You’re standing by your easel still, eyes locked on to them, frozen. Because you have a strange inkling that they do actually know each other, which would mean that they would know you’re going on a date with both of them.

Then why would they ask you out if that were the case?

It takes everything in you not to run away when Bucky turns to face you with a wide smile, Steve turning next and smiling too.

“Hey, darling,” Bucky says, walking toward you when he realizes you’re frozen in place. He stops in front of you, and Steve follows his lead and stands next to him. They look at each other for a moment, Steve nodding his head once before Bucky turns to you and opens his mouth.

But you’re panicking. Because you’ve already decided that they’ve just now found out and are going to cancel the dates and maybe insult you for accepting a date from both of them. Even though, logically, you know they would never say anything even remotely rude to you, your anxiety is telling you that they would. They will. So you take it upon yourself to apologize.

“Guys, I-I am so sorry! I know I shouldn’t have accepted a date with both of you but I really, really like both of you and I didn’t know how to choose because I don’t want to choose between you two because you’re both really nice and amazing and I know it sounds awful that I want both of you when you’re probably not even interested anymore because why w-”

“Darling!” Bucky cuts you off, placing a warm hand on your bicep, squeezing it once, and then running his hand down your arm until he can take your hand in his.

“It’s okay, honey,” Steve says, bringing up a hand to gently turn your head to face him more directly.

“I-It… It is?”

They both give each other another glance while they chuckle to themselves. Steve takes your other hand, slowly rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“We have something to tell you, darling.” Bucky sighs, then clears his throat. “We… planned this. We didn’t want to tell you upfront because we didn’t want to scare you away, because we really like you too. We’re… Steve and I are…” He trails off, and now his nerves are swirling deep in his stomach. Steve steps in for him though.

“We’re mates. And we know it’s not common, and two Alphas with an Omega isn’t common either, so we didn’t want to be too overbearing by flirting with you together. We’ve been wanting to court an Omega together so we wanted you to get to know us individually so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed because we can be… a lot. We’re sorry we lied.”

By the time they’re done speaking, you think you’re dreaming. No, you’re positive you’re dreaming. They’re mates? And, as Steve said, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common. Even still, that doesn’t bother you. You’re big on doing what you want as long as no one is getting hurt. And you can understand why they didn’t want to approach you together, because, yeah, even just being in both of their presences makes your heart race and stutter.

But, they both want you? Like, together? They want to court you and maybe bring you into their relationship? It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship, and even then it was with a Beta, so you can’t even imagine how dating two Alphas would be.

“Oh.” Smart. Really fucking clever. God, why can’t you just say anything?

“Do you… Do you not want to date us?” Steve sounds disappointed, sad. And the way he frowns makes you mentally slap yourself out of your haze.

“No! I- I do! I just… I’ve never dated two Alphas. I don’t mind that you’re mated, really. I’m just not used to…” You trail off, biting your lip and glancing down, realizing that they still have hold of your hands. It makes your skin tingle, their large and warm hands fill your entire body with fire, and the smile that returns to Steve’s face makes you smile too.

“You’re not used to what?” Bucky asks, squeezing your hand.

“To being wanted this much, I guess.”

You miss the way both Alphas look at each other with furrowed eyebrows, both men frowning now.

“How about this,” Steve says, bringing up his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “We’ll cancel the dates for today. And we can go on one tomorrow, together. All of us. And if you think it over more tonight and decide you don’t want to anymore, then that is okay. But we really do like you, honey.”

Well, you’d never stood a chance against them from the very first meetings, so there’s not really a doubt in your mind that you do want to go on that date, it’s just your anxiety that’s causing you to doubt their feelings.

But Tori’s voice pops up in the back of your head telling you to stop overthinking, to just take a chance. So, that’s what you do.

“O-okay. Tomorrow is good.”

Both Alphas smile, simultaneously sighing in relief at your words. Bucky then releases your hand so he can pull out his phone, unlock it, then hand it to you.

“Here, we’re going to go but you can give me your number so we can talk over more details before tomorrow.”

You do so, typing in your number and watching with dazed eyes as they gather their things to leave. And when they’re about to leave, both men make quick moves of kissing each of your cheeks before retreating with charming smiles.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, darling?” Bucky asks, only leaving when you give him a nod and a wide smile.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

tagging: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @perdidosbucky-yyo / @wckedheart / @kandis-mom / @meteorshowercoffee / @wandaneedstherapy / @buckysbarne / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @p1ut0smoon / @venusfly11 / @buckybarnesmetalarmswife775 / @the-photo-hoe / @clownsbf / @matsumama / @fandoms-writings / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @sweater-bee / @stuckysbike / @lovelylittleleigh / @buckyshbic / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @emeraldfairy23 / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @glistenuplove / @monicachic13 / @bbellen1411 / @akmenia / @shawnftjacob / @ladyravenclaw / @sadsadbabygirlrob / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @sweetmoonlove0214 / @yesprettypleasesir / @duckies16 / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @xonickibaby / @matchat3a

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #stucky #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stevebucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader imagine #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #alpha!bucky #alpha!steve #alpha!stucky #my writing

[munsonthings86]

forever imprinted

you and steve carve your initials in a tree ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: fluff, soft!steve, 0.5k words

an outtake from this fic

romance took a human form in steve harrington. sure, you were well aware that he was charming and a total dreamboat, but you would've never guessed that he was so open and loud with his affection. everything steve did, he did to woo you, or at the very least, to see that smile that he desperately wanted to tattoo on his mind.

that’s why you were currently sitting in a tree, watching as your boyfriend struggled to climb its length.

"just don't fall, you idiot," you laughed from where you sat, auburn leaves tickling your dangling legs. “me? fall? don’t insult me,” he scoffed, adjusting his feet on a branch that swung gently in the night breeze. steve rested his arm in your lap, patting at his back pockets with the other.

“this is so corny,” you snorted, fingers finding your boyfriends tousled brown hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. he hummed under your touch, finally finding his keychain. “nothing corny about it. gestures like these date back to the caveman era, babe,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, not a hint of irony in his voice.

the folding knife on his keychain finally had some use, he thought, using its sharpness to etch into the bark of the tree. his eyebrows scrunched and so did his nose and lips when the knife proved to not be the best tool for this little art project. this was a lot harder than it looked. “need some help there, caveman?”

steve tried not to laugh but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth gave him away. he stole a glance at the smug grin on your face, diverting his eyes back to the sloppy heart he managed to carve, “you’re hilarious.”

you giggled that sweet giggle that you always did and steve swears it’s the cutest sound he’s ever heard. you adore the way his tongue juts out a little when his focus intensifies, carefully marking the tree with the first letter to your oh-so beautiful name. his fingers resting on your thigh rub light circles to your soft skin, humming a tune that, though you don’t recognize, you sway to anyway.

“ta-da!” he whispers, so proud of himself, a smile that’s wide and bright and glittering adorning his features. “do you like it?” he looked at you with big brown, puppy eyes that glimmered in the moonlight. he was so pretty.

steve’s usual penmanship wasn’t the best, and it wasn’t much better here either, but it still managed to look so perfect. both of your initials imprinted into nature, forever. and you hoped that it was just how long you and steve would last. “i love it.”

he smiled, cupping your cheek and running his thumb along your jaw. “i love you, sunshine,” a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “so much,” a kiss to your plump lips that he could never get enough of.

“i love you too, stevie. forever”

“now look who’s being corny this time,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. you roll your eyes, and steve’s lucky that he’s quite literally balancing on a tree branch, or else you would’ve given a shove to his shoulder.

💌 1 new message from jojo: had a dream abt steve last night and couldn’t not write this. sobbing. inbox is open!

#jojo’s outtakes ☁️ #steve and sunshine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #joe keery

[rustedhearts]

Head Over Heels (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!fem reader)

summary: you meet the handsome boxer Steve Harrington at a party. he falls head over heels for you instantly.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

author’s note: if you’re new to this series (since i didn’t write chronologically but this is the first fic): the reader’s name is “libby” which is just a stand-in for “librarian.” it’s still you!

warnings: fluff, casual dominance (yes, even from the start), steve being uncharacteristically sweet and nervous

hawkins, indiana july, 1989

The house seemed to be a rotation of young, twenty-something year olds, and the upbeat thump of the radio’s biggest hits. Right now, the stereo was blasting Rick Springfield, and though you knew the song and hummed the words, you couldn’t find it in yourself to dance. Instead, you remained seated in the La-Z Boy in the corner of the living room, watching your friend twirl between different men. You’ve been out of high school for two months, and she’d already been through a handful of them. You were by far the youngest here, and though you usually wouldn’t be so easily intimidated by a crowd, you were when you locked eyes on him.

Steve Harrington.

About thirty minutes ago—as your gaze wandered the room, chin in palm with boredom numbing your brain—you spotted him. Through the thick sea of people wading back and forth, on the other side of the wide living room, Steve Harrington lounged on a gingham sofa. Cigarette in hand, sunglasses tucked in the collar of his navy blue polo, biceps bulging and straining against the cuffs.

He looked just as handsome as he did four years ago, when he graduated from Hawkins High as swim team captain and resident heartbreaker. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t stop and stare at each one of his photographs in the display case near the gym.

Since he graduated, Steve started boxing. The town gossip usually fixated around him and his new career, and when he had his first big title fight in Indianapolis last year, Hawkins displayed a giant poster of him at town hall. Now, rumor had it they were asking for Steve in other cities around America, impressed by his violent skills.

And now he was staring at you. You shifted in the chair, cheeks warming under his steady gaze. The thump of the music found home in your chest, the rhythmic beat of your heart so forceful and intense that you felt flushed all over. You waited a beat, and looked up again. He was still looking. A girl walked in front of you, and as her blue skirt flitted by, Steve tipped his head to find you around the obstruction.

Your lips cracked into a giddy smile. He was watching you. At the sight of your pleasure, Steve mirrored it: a half-mouthed grin that softened the intensity of his brooding features. It was princely and handsome, and your smile only broadened knowing that it was directed at you. Steve took a drag of his cigarette, tipped his head back in place, and drew his arm across the back of the sofa. His eyes never left your figure, tucked in the armchair in a floral cardigan and denim shorts. Your sneakers were perfectly white and tidily knotted.

In a room full of blazing neon blue and painful bubblegum pink, you were soft and glowing. If he was being honest, Steve had been watching you for a while now—watching you glance around the room with your lip between your teeth, playing with the white laces on your Reeboks, fiddling with the most adorable pair of tortoise shell glasses perched on your nose. You hadn't spoken to anyone since you entered the room, but when you thought no one was watching, you sang along to the songs playing on the stereo. At first, he glanced over on accident, but he found himself mesmerized by your quiet grace and natural beauty.

Stomach flip-flopping and heart thumping, you inhaled shakily and tried to tear your eyes away from the handsome boxer. You weren't clueless—you'd heard all about his promiscuous (whoreish) antics all throughout high school and beyond. There's no way someone like that would bother with you.

Just as you swiveled the chair for a change of scenery, a boy nearby stumbled back into the arm of the chair, tipping his red solo cup onto your leg. You gasped at the cold, sticky beer sloshing over your bare thigh, leaping from the chair just as the boy jumped back.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, are you—"

"—hey! Why don't you watch where the fuck you're goin'?" A new voice suddenly barked over the music.

Heads turned and cheeks warmed (mostly yours, now blazing hot and fiery) at the sight of Steve Harrington standing beside you, glaring sharply at the perpetrator with an empty cup of beer. Steve's hand cupped around your elbow to pull you away, and the rough touch of his big, warm palm had you shivering.

"S-sorry, man, I didn't mean to."

Steve only waved his hand, head shaking as he dismissed the beer-spiller. The younger boy skittered away, and when he was gone, Steve turned to you. His hand hadn't left your arm and you couldn't stop blushing. Your entire body felt like it was on fire. God, were you sweating through your shirt? Beer was still running down your leg and into your white socks.

"You okay?" Steve asked, brows furrowed.

You swallowed, nodding mutely. Steve looked you over, frowning at the beer on your leg. He snatched a napkin from the coffee table nearby and watched you rub it over your leg.

"Fuckin' idiot," he huffed, eyes flitting back up to yours then. His cheeks suddenly pinkened. "I...Sorry, I just...I came rushing over—I'm Steve."

Left hand on your arm, he extended his right for you to shake, and your smile returned as you peered at it. A musical giggle bubbled out of you as you clasped it in a gentle shake, flashing that pretty smile that his knees buckling. His chest felt so tight and odd. Something ached in his throat. Your hand was soft, and up close, you smelled like something sweet and floral—lilacs. Lilacs and...beer. Your lips were shiny against the yellow lamplight.

"I'm Libby," you declared.

Steve inhaled sharply. Your fingers slipped away and he found his eyes chasing them. Jesus, what the fuck's wrong with you Harrington? He only had one beer, he wasn't drunk—but he surely felt like he was. His head felt light and full of air. He's staring at you for too long, now.

Clearing his throat, Steve ran his hand through the front of his hair—long, chestnut brown, fanned outward behind his ear—and motioned toward your beer leg.

"Should I—do you want—if you want, we can...get out of here? If you're not...doin' anything? The, um, music's givin' me a headache anyway." What the hell, Harrington?

Steve clenched his teeth and exhaled sharply through his nose. You were just so much prettier up close. He could barely think with your eyes blinking up at him from behind those glasses. And blink you did (in disbelief) at his proposal. Your mouth ran dry, heart on your tongue, palms slick with sweat, stomach bloated with butterflies.

All you could do was nod for a moment, before you swallowed once more and finally found your words. "Yes. Y-yes, I'd like that."

It was hard for Steve to contain the joyous grin that broke out on his face, but he did his best. It showed face with another lopsided smirk, and then Steve was stepping back to motion toward the door.

"After you."

It was exquisite, to be leaving a house party with half your senior class and a group of random twenty-something year olds watching Steve Harrington trail after you. Heads turned to watch the two of you head toward the door, mouths moving rapidly to murmur about the predicament. Steve's friends hollered after him in search of explanation, but Steve never even stopped to justify.

He opened the door, smiled, and waited for you to pass through.

♡ ♡

After deliriously wandering along the sidewalk for about ten minutes, the both of you decided that the refreshment situation at the party was dastardly—and you were starving. Steve immediately questioned what your favorite food was, promising you whatever you liked. As you approached the town square, suddenly all you could think of was Tony's, the tiny mom-and-pop pizza parlor on the corner next to Melvald's.

Steve pulled your chair out and pushed it back in once you were seated, and as you waited for your greasy cheese pizza to share, set his eyes upon you with eager attention. Your shoulders squeezed together, lips pursing to conceal a smile, and your eyes touched the wooden table with nerves reddening your face.

"What?" you squeaked under his stare.

Steve eased back into his chair, head cocking toward his shoulder. You peeked up through your lashes and watched his eyes roll over you. He took his lip between his teeth and shook his head as though in disbelief.

"Just lookin' at you," he graveled.

You giggled, reaching up on the table to grab the paper straw wrapper, playing with it in your lap to ground yourself. He was so handsome. His shoulders were broad and muscular, and he smelled like something musky and manly. You didn't even mind the cigarettes. Something about them sticking out of his back pocket made your heart flutter. Your mother would lose her mind.

After a moment of silence and low jazz on the stereo overhead, you piped up. "Is your head any better?"

Steve furrowed his brows for a moment, before they relaxed and he grinned. "Oh, s' fine. I get 'em a lot, headaches. Comes with the territory. I'm a—"

"—a boxer. I know," you murmured sheepishly, ducking under his raised eyebrows.

"Oh, is that so?" Steve squinted amusedly, tapping his finger on the table.

Your eyes followed, admiring the wideness of his hands, the slender length of his fingers. He wore a brown leather-banded watch around his wrist, and you swallowed at the sight of it.

"Yeah. It's...kind of hard to miss your face on the side of the Super Mart." You giggled.

Steve's cheeks reddened, a chuckle huffing out of him. He scratched at the nape of his neck and shifted in his seat.

"Yeah. Yeah, you got me there. And, uh, what do you do?"

He watched you perk up, hands tucked under your thighs. Pride seemed to glimmer in your eyes as you tipped your chin up and smiled nervously.

"I'm a librarian. I started last summer just for fun, and when I graduated they gave me a full time position."

Steve's eyes flitted over you adoringly again. A librarian made so much sense.

"And you like it?"

You bobbed your head eagerly, eyes rounding behind the reflective lenses of your glasses.

"I love it. I love books, so...I guess that helps." You laughed.

A waiter in a black t-shirt and jeans came to table and slid a metal tray with a steaming, gooey, and glistening pizza on it between the two of you. When he was gone, Steve grabbed one of the plates at the head of the table and pointed to the tray.

"How many do you want?"

Your cheeks swelled with heat again. "Two, please."

He handed you the slices, and you waited until he had four of his own to begin biting at yours. You took tiny, delicate bites, and Steve watched over the pull of his white cheese as you paused to sip at your water occasionally. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something gentle about the way you moved. He could still smell your lilac scent.

"What's your favorite book?" Steve mumbled around a mouthful of cheese.

Your eyes popped over to him, surprised at the question. In all honesty, you were surprised he hadn't chuckled at your occupation. Most of the boys you'd gone out with poked fun at it—or made inappropriate jokes about bending you over in your cardigan and pencil skirt. You were either terribly sexualized or laughed at.

But Steve Harrington did neither.

"Oh, um...ever? Or right now?"

Steve chuckled, wiping his shiny fingers on a thin napkin crumpled beside his plate. "I didn't know you could have both."

You beamed. "Of course you can. My favorite book changes the more I read."

Steve smiled, watching you swoop down for another bite of your nibbled pizza.

"I'm not much of a reader," he explained. "I was never very good at it."

You shrugged, wiping your own fingers.

"That's okay. I'm sure I wouldn't be very good at boxing."

Steve chuckled, reaching over the table squeeze your bare bicep. He smelled like pizza and Marlboros and he was so pretty. You always thought his eyes were brown in the dully-colored photographs at school—but in the fluorescents of the pizza parlor, they held sparks of olive and gold, more hazel than anything. His lips were plump and pink and soft and he had a bruise on the underside of his jaw that you hadn't seen until now.

"With these muscles? I think you could give me a run for my money."

You giggled, rubbing at your arm where his touch was when it disappeared back into his lap.

"Should we bet on it?"

Steve placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Whatever you want, baby."

Your entire face felt like the surface of the sun, and you did your best to hide your smile in a mouthful of pizza. But his flirtatious stare caused a giggle to burst through, and you felt like you were in fifth grade passing notes to your crush all over again. Steve cocked his head again, the smallest tip to the left.

"What?" you pouted, riddled with anxiety at his stare.

Steve arched his brows, holding his empty hands up. "I'm just lookin' at you."

You shifted on your chair, gazing down at your plate. Steve tipped his chin down to follow.

"You're nice to look at," he murmured gently.

You were certain you'd never felt this giddy before. You tucked your hair behind your ear and played the ends anxiously, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Your stomach rumbled with hunger but you couldn’t find it in yourself to eat. Steve was too handsome, too pretty, too sweet.

And though he looked a little mean if he didn’t plaster on a smile, and the sheer size of him made you nervous, and the sound of his voice, gruff and unemotional even with the sweetest sentiment, made you shiver and squirm and your stomach ache—you could tell that beneath that broody exterior, Steve Harrington was a kind and loving man.

You could see it in the way he coaxed you to eat just one more slice of pizza, and offered to refill your Coke once it was down to the ice. It spoke through the way he collected your trash and pulled out your chair, and held the door open for you in the wild whipping wind. He moved you to the inner position on the sidewalk so you weren’t near the road, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders at every crosswalk.

He was an attentive listener, and didn’t seem the least bit bored when you went on a rant about why Virginia Woolf was better than Jane Austen, but why it wasn’t fair to compare the two all the same. He was humble with his boxing stories, and refrained from boasting about his current undefeated status across America.

“I have a fight comin’ up in Cleveland, actually,” Steve said.

You trailed along the streets through the town square, past the closed shops and darkened window displays. The street lights bathed the mostly-barren road in a soft white glow. Your fingers had been brushing together for the past twenty minutes since your departure from the pizza parlor, but you were both too nervous to join hands. Steve didn’t any to push, and you didn’t want to assume.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you beamed, tipping your head back to gaze at him. “How many cities have you fought in now?”

Steve pursed his lips, humming lowly. “Fifteen, I think, but some are in the same states, so…s’ nothin’ too special. My coach says I might be goin’ big time soon, though. Like…bigger than state clubs.”

You smiled, scuffling to a stop near the movie theater entrance. Under the glowing yellow bulbs of the promotion sign, Steve turned to face you.

“I’m happy for you, Steve. It seems like you’re really passionate about it. Which means it is special.”

Steve gave a sheepish shrug, stepping closer. You could smell him again, feel the warmth from his buttoned chest. You swallowed as his eyes moved to your mouth.

“S’ the only thing I’m good at.”

At your side, he brushed his fingers against your wrist. Your breath hitched, eyes rounding in delight. Steve took that as a sign to slip his fingers into your palm, and when it flowered open in invitation, he wove your fingers together.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you whispered.

Steve smiled, reaching with his free hand to tuck a strand of hair falling in your eyes behind your ear. The side of his knuckle grazed the arch of your ear, trailing down the side of your neck. You straightened at the wandering touch, skin buzzing with warmth and excitement. Steve followed his touch all down your neck. When his hand fell to your shoulder, he took it away, and met your gaze again. His was soft, round, warm and gentle. He had the faintest collection of hair above his lip.

“You’re so pretty,” he confessed quietly.

You could have burst with delight. Though it was always implied when boys took you on dates, or made out with you in the back of their cars in the gymnasium parking lot, rarely had anyone told you how beautiful they found you. Rarely, in the company of a man, had you ever felt it.

But standing under Steve Harrington’s gaze, you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Steve?”

Steve seemed surprised by the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. His eyes widened.

“Yeah?”

You smiled a soft, shy smile, and tipped your chin down. “Can you…can you kiss m—“

Two fingers curled under your chin and lifted your head before you could finish, and then a mouth attached itself to yours. Steve’s mouth: warm and soft and filled with the aftertaste of pizza and a faint, few-hours-ago trace of tobacco. You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed against his cheek, tipping your head to meet the ministrations of his mouth. Your hand squeezed tighter around his. His fingers left your chin to cup your cheek. He handled you like something delicate and special.

You broke away when the air grew thin, and each of your eyes fluttered open to blink dazedly into each other’s flushed, swollen-mouthed faces. You brought your free hand to your mouth and giggled against your fingers. Steve’s smile was broad and boyish, and he gently stroked his thumb against your cheek.

“Like that?”

You nodded your head quickly. “Exactly like that.”

♡ ♡

Your spontaneous date with Steve Harrington came accompanied by a restless night of sleep. You tossed and turned and kicked your sheets, mind full of images of Steve kissing you under the streetlights, and again on your porch when he walked you to the door. You scrawled your number on the back of an old receipt, and, unbeknownst to you, Steve stared at it in his hand all night.

The morning came sticky and hot, with a soft golden sun that filtered through your floral curtains and cast pink blobs across your sheets. You were finally sleeping peacefully, drooling onto your pillowcase, sprawled out across your ruffled bedspread, when the phone shrilled downstairs. You groaned at the sound, burying your face deeper into the pillow. Your mother, flipping pancakes in the kitchen, answered the phone.

Less than a minute later, she poked her head into your room.

"Honey?" she cooed.

A moment passed without response.

"Honey, it's for you."

Blearily, you rolled onto your back and grunted.

"Whois it," you slurred, dazed from sleep.

"Someone named Steve? He said—"

You jumped out of bed, hurriedly shoving your feet into your ratty bunny slippers. You practically flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, where your father was reading the newspaper at the table. He furrowed his brows over the rim of his glasses as you picked up the phone and rubbed your eyes free of sleep.

"Hello?" Suddenly, the sleepy mumble of your voice was gone—replaced with a chipper coo.

"Hey, beautiful."

Your cheeks immediately bloomed pink, and you glanced over your shoulder toward your father at the table. You slipped into the dining room, stretching the coiled cord as you went.

"Hi."

Steve chuckled. "Hi. I'm sorry for calling so early, I just...I was hoping I could see you again."

Easing back against the floral wallpaper of the dining room, you took your lip between your teeth and held your breath. A flutter entered your chest.

"Libby?"

You released your breath and swallowed. "Yes, I...I'd love to see you again. When were you—"

"—what are you doing right now?"

For Steve Harrington, your answer was nothing. You were doing nothing at all but rushing to your room and readying for a morning full of him. When the doorbell chimed, you breezed down the staircase in a white sundress and what Steve still called 'the fuckin' cutest' pair of powder blue kitten heels. Through the frosted glass of your front door, Steve was a blob of white and blue and a pop of vibrant pink—swinging open the door, you realized the pink were a large bouquet of pink peonies.

"Oh, Steve," you gasped, eyes wild with delight.

Steve's cheeks burned, holding them out by the stems. In the kitchen, your mother peered around the corner to snoop. You collected the flowers in your arms and beamed at him. The faintest smile touched his lips, but inside, he was melting. The back of his white t-shirt already gathered with sweat.

"They're beautiful."

Steve didn't know a fucking thing about flowers, but if they got him a reaction like that, he'd buy you a bouquet every day for the rest of his life.

"I'm glad you like them."

You drove this time, tucked neatly into the passenger seat of his burgundy BMW. He parked on the curb of Laurie's Diner and held your hand until you were seated in a vinyl booth pressed up against the window. You plucked a laminated menu from the table and flapped it open, looking over the options. Your hair was pretty today, and Steve found himself flitting between his menu and your head, unable to take his eyes away. It caught the light in such a glorious way.

"I'm not very fond of omelets, but I love scrambled eggs. But then, French toast sounds good, especially now that strawberries are ripe," you rambled, with a certain air to your voice that made everything sound like poetry.

Steve felt like he couldn't breathe just watching you read a fucking breakfast menu. You were still gazing down at it, brow furrowing frustratedly at your own indecision.

"Steve?"

Steve blinked back to reality, cheeks blazing hot again. "Sorry. Just lookin' at you again."

You giggled, hiding a blush behind the menu. Steve set his down, flipping over his coffee mug.

"Get all of it, if you want. French toast, scrambled eggs, pancakes—whatever you want," he declared.

You closed your menu, placing it on the table. "Really?"

Steve shrugged, tossing his arm on the back of the booth. His watch glinted in the sun and temporarily blinded you.

"Really. Whatever you want, angel, s' on me."

The new nickname made your stomach flip, and you toyed with the ends of your utensils to avoid meeting his amused gaze.

"Only if we share."

Steve chuckled. "Fine by me."

You grinned, sliding your menu toward the end of the table with a new sense of determination and cheery delight.

"I hope you can eat, champ."

When the food came—pancakes, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, French toast, two kinds of muffins, sausage, hash browns, and practically every drink on the menu—the two of you made good on your deal and split it fairly evenly. Steve was surprised at how much you could put away, watching with raised brows as you finished your fourth pancake and third egg.

All the while, you made him laugh. You told him about the library—which he never imagined to be such a fun place but you made it sound like DisneyWorld—and when you asked him about boxing, you seemed genuinely interested.

"So...you can knock someone's teeth out?"

Steve reached over and took the strawberry jam from your hands, twisting the lid off and holding it out.

"Mhm, and I have. It's a rite of passage, only a matter of time until mine are gone."

You giggled, dropping dollops of jam on your plate as you scooped it with a butterknife from Steve's palm.

"I hope not."

When your toast had been buttered and jammed, you took a bite, and held the other half out to Steve. The two of you seemed to move with the comfort and familiarity of a five year relationship, never pausing to anticipate, never stopping to wonder—you just knew. You knew what Steve was going to do before he did it, and he knew what you were going to say before the words even came out of your mouth.

Your stomaches burned from laughter and your cheeks throbbed from blushing, and it was as Steve watched you hiccup from too many giggles that he suddenly could no longer ignore the weeping ache of his heart.

"I really like you," he murmured softly.

But over the chime of the bell above the door, and the chatter of diner eaters, and the clank of dishes and utensils, those words were all you heard. You smiled, full-mouthed and pretty, and reached over the table for his hand. Between the half empty plate of scrambled eggs and a bowl of blueberries, your fingers intertwined.

Steve really liked you. And he knew, as you collected his mouth in a syrup-sticky kiss, that in no time, Steve would love you, too.

♡ ♡

#rolly! #boxer!steve #boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

[eds6ngel]

✮⋆｡°✩⋆˙ a christmas miracle

a 'when i kissed the teacher' spinoff.

summary: you and steve were in a weird situation. you weren't actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren't exactly being safe either. so, how will steve react when he opens his final christmas present?

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. afab!reader. 90s!au. mentions and allusions to sex. mentions of pregnancy. pet names. kissing. tons of crying. alena being too young to understand pregnancy (kinda cute tho). alena being a cutie pie as always. some worries over steve's reaction. but mostly fluff and comfort!! [1.9k].

author's note: hi everyone!! i am back!! my first semester of uni is finally over, so i can get back to fic writing a little more! i couldn't neglect my happy family like this, so i've tackled a pregnancy fic! i've never been pregnant, but i do wish to be in my life, so all of my research has been for my own benefit and utilised in this fic. if i'm inaccurate in any parts, please let me know for the benefit of the readers and myself!! ♡

It was hard not announcing the news to Steve. Having to attend your first scan without him was heartbreaking, but the look upon the nurse’s face after you told her you were going to wrap up the ultrasound photo, along with a card saying “Merry Christmas Daddy” and a pair of small, cream, woolen socks, just confirmed your decision was the right one.

You and Steve were in a sort of weird situation. You had stopped using protection, but weren’t in a position were you were actively trying to get pregnant. You agreed that any time from now was an okay time for the two of you to have a child, but also weren’t bothered if the pregnancy tests came back negative.

But, a little Christmas miracle decided to form inside of you, the test showing two lines on December 11th, 1999.

Steve and Alena had gone grocery shopping for an hour, the perfect opportunity for you to wrap Steve’s gift.

Rolling out the wrapping paper, you placed a grey, fluffy blanket in the centre, before laying on top the Christmas card which read:

Hi Daddy.

I’m six weeks old today!

I can’t wait to meet you soon! I’m planning to enter the world on August 20th, 2000.

My mom is keeping me very safe right now as I grow, but I’ll still be listening out for you from inside my home.

See you in nine months.

Love, your future child <3

And as you were about to place the ultrasound photo next to the cream baby socks you previous put underneath the card, your eyes started welling with tears once more.

Was it the hormones? Maybe. But, something in you felt this was all natural. You were growing a human life inside of you, one that has half of your DNA and the other half the love of your life’s. That was something to bask in the intense emotion of.

With everything laid out neatly, you reached over for the sellotape, folding over the edges and carefully sticking them in place.

Wrapping the gift in a pretty cream bow, matching the socks inside, and adding a label reading “To my darling Stevie,” you added it to the pile of increasing gifts in the corner of yours and Steve’s bedroom.

Now, just a week to go until he gets his surprise.

You cradle your stomach, despite the size not increasing at all yet, and whisper to your unborn child “A week and he’ll know, my love. Your beautiful existence will be known.”

“Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!”

You are awoken by the sound of your bouncing ten-year-old, aggressively rocking your fiancé as he groans loudly, his eyes adjusting to the light peaking through the window.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” he murmurs, you opening up one eye as Alena’s full set of brand-new adult teeth smile right at you.

“And what are you doing up so early, missy?” you ask, the clock on the bedside table next to Steve shining a bright 6:00 in the morning, illuminating the room in a red glow.

“Mom” she drags out, rolling her eyes playfully, “You know what day it is!”

You tap your chin lightly, playing along with the joke, “Hmm… I feel as if I may need a reminder.”

“It’s Christmas Mom! And I may or may not have seen all the presents you left underneath the tree…” her vocal pitch increases, looking away in a guilty look as Steve reaches up and pulls her down into his body, the girl screaming as he ruffles her hair.

“Did someone be naughty and peak underneath the tree?” he grits through his teeth, Alena shouting in a reply, “I didn’t mean to, I promise! I saw it on the way to your room!”

You begin to tickle her sides as Steve holds her in place against his chest, making the girl scream in delight loudly, “Is someone now on Santa’s naughty list?”

“Mom…” she pouts her lips, a grumpy expression adorning her face as you sigh sadly, “I know sweet cheeks, you don’t believe in him anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

You hold out your arms as you wrap her in a warm hug, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I knew you would realise eventually. You’re getting too old!”

She gasps and looks into your eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “I am not old! You and Dad are old.”

You start giggling in shock as Steve just opens his mouth wide, “You better watch yourself, pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” you hold up a finger in warning, before pointing it over to Steve, “Dad doesn’t like being reminded he’s in his mid-thirties.”

And now it is Steve’s turn to attack you, but instead with aggressive kisses, littering them up your neck and across your face lightly, Alena now old enough to understand the playful love between the two of you. “You’re almost thirty as well, you know.”

“Two more years to go, babe. I’m still in my prime development decade,” you smirk at him.

And it wasn’t just you who was developing.

A loud gasp can be heard along with the shredding of paper as Alena holds up her latest gift, “You actually got me it?”

For such a small gadget, the Barbie Digital Camera cost you $70, the most expensive gift yet, but maybe not the one which will cause the biggest reaction.

“Of course I did! It’s the one thing you kept pointing at in the magazine!”

She giggles with a bright smile, “Thank you! Thank you!”

She launches herself at you, the motherly instinct in you clutching onto your stomach to protect your unborn child, hoping Steve didn’t notice the movement. The surprise would be known in the next half an hour.

“And after you’ve taken your photos, we can connect it to Dad’s computer and see it come to life! How cool is that?”

“Can I take it to school?” she asks, clutching the box in her hands.

“I assume you can! But, just ask Mrs. Critchley before you take it in, okay?”

“Okay!” she smiles, plopping herself back down on the carpet to open the rest of her gifts.

Your hands began to sweat. Alena was all done opening her presents, patiently waiting for you and Steve to unwrap yours.

Steve let you attend to your gifts first. Everything from a brand-new necklace designed with a rose quartz, matching your engagement ring, to the latest Nokia phone, you were thankful for everything he had bought you, praising him with many gentle kisses and warm hugs.

Now, it was Steve’s turn. You specifically told him to leave one present until last, leading him to give you an eyebrow raise and a shrug before simply agreeing, used to your weirdness by now. You got him everything from a new cologne to a new pair of Nike shoes, the soles of his old pair wearing thin from how much he was working over the Christmas holidays.

But, after one final kiss, it was finally time.

“Can I open this now?” Steve jokes, the nerves deeply settling in your stomach. You don’t even know why you were worried, you had stopped using protection in mutual agreement, knowing kids could be a possibility from that result. There was just a voice in your head trying to convince you an awful reaction would occur.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, you can.”

“Hey,” he puts an arm on your shoulder, “Why are you so nervous?”

You lightly chuckle, “You’ll find out once you open the gift.”

Even after all of these years, Steve still wasn’t the smartest. Verbal cues were not his strong suit, but my God could he read body language like a champ.

He gives you a confused look before unwrapping the cream-coloured bow, delicately tearing apart the paper as his eyes immediately notice the ultrasound scan.

He may be oblivious, but he isn’t that oblivious. He has one very similar in his bedside table drawer of his sweet ten-year-old daughter sat next to him.

The tears form at his eyes before he can even recognise them. Small sniffles enter the atmosphere as his hazel eyes make contact with you, “Are you serious?”

And the tears follow suit for you, nodding frantically as he leans across the floor to collect you in his arms, crying into your shoulder.

“How far along?” he mumbles into your shoulder, tears dripping onto the red fabric of your dress.

“Read the card and you’ll find out.”

Steve was too drawn into the ultrasound scan to even notice the card you had gotten him. Releasing from the hug, he keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, picking up the card and carefully opening it, reading the words you had written, the tears increasing as he noticed it was from the perspective of his baby.

“Wha— How? When did you get this done?” he stutters out, still in complete shock of the entire moment.

“Pregnancy test has been in the bathroom trash can for two weeks. I was scared you were going to notice it for a while, but then I remembered it’s you, and you don’t notice anything,” you giggle, Steve not even bothered by the joking insult, too caught up in his own emotions, “And two Thursday’s ago, I didn’t go to work. Went to the hospital and got the scan, and just hung around Starcourt until the time I would normally come home.”

“Well, you fooled me,” he chuckles, leaning in for a kiss which you gladly accept, cupping his cheeks as you smile into it.

“I love you so much, beautiful girl. And I love the baby who is growing inside of you. You’re so strong. Your body is so strong. I just— I can’t wait. I can’t wait to meet them.”

His hand had migrated down to your stomach, gently cradling the unborn child inside of you.

Alena had finally looked up from her Etch-a-Sketch, noticing the tears falling down both yours and Steve’s cheeks, your hands holding tightly onto each side of his head as your foreheads were leant against each other, kneeling on the soft carpet of the living room.

“Mom? Dad? Why are you crying?”

Steve turns around to face his daughter, you looking softly into her eyes, “Because Mom is having a baby, sweetie.”

Steve passes her the ultrasound scan, her face scrunching up in confusion as she points at it, “Why is it just a black blob?”

Steve begins laughing as his head falls onto your shoulder, sweetly rubbing up and down the sides of your waist.

“Because when a baby is first made, it starts out as a black blob and then grows into the full size baby we all know and love,” you explain gently to her.

“Hmm…” she takes in, before asking her next question, “But how did it get there?”

Your eyes widen as Steve’s hands stop on your waist, refusing to lift his head and look at his daughter.

You smile through the awkwardness, remembering that her sex education lessons would start in a matter of months, “You’ll find out soon, baby.”

thank you ever so much for reading!! do you guys want any more pregnancy related fics? i really want to do some research into post-partum for myself, so do you want me to skip straight to that, or tackle other things like morning sickness, gender reveal, baby shower, stuff like that? feel free to let me know!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic @tlclick73 @steveshairspray @superlegend216

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington series #stranger things #eds6ngel

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 3 The Knight

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 3195

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1, part 2!

“Nnn, pl-please…”

Her gasp is hardly audible this time, she’s so out of breath.

Panting from the way the second orgasm’s just ripped through her. And she’s crying still, but only just. Not like before. Because now the pleasure’s overtaken most of the anger, all of the fear, and even some of the humiliation. Bucky pulls his hands from her and delicately eases her panties back into place, smooths her little slip of a dress out for her. He looks up from his spot on the floor.

Her chest heaves with her breathing, the underside of her breasts—beautiful and natural under the silk—on full display for Bucky from this angle. And, Christ, her nipples are pebbled up, just begging for attention. Bucky sees Steve refixing his hold on her waist to support her because she’s gone so slack. She’s shaking against him, his body practically the only thing keeping her vertical at this point.

Inside his pants, Bucky is … uncomfortable. He slowly pushes up from where he’s been kneeling in front of her, coming back to stand at his full height and crowd in close again. He cages her between his body and Steve’s, hands landing on her waist right alongside Steve’s own. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, mockingly tender. “Don’t you want to say thank you for your orgasm?” He leans in so that the words are whispered against the side of her head. He’s staring at Steve as he says it, and when Lena’s mortified, overwhelmed little whimper comes in response, he doesn’t miss how Steve’s mouth twitches at the corner. Steve likes to play the white knight—and maybe he sort of is, compared to Bucky, but even still, he’s no sweetheart. And he’s enjoying the heck out of this. “Are you hard?” Bucky whispers, and he feels his sweet puppy’s body stiffen between them as she figures out who he’s talking to.

“You have to ask?” Steve answers, the rumble of his voice no doubt felt against Polina’s back. She makes another little outraged cry when Steve presses forward, driving his erection against her backside and pushing her more tightly up against Bucky.

Bucky, who helpfully slots his thigh back between her legs. She shivers as her sex is pressed up against him, going stock still to avoid any stimulation. Bucky coos down at her. He lets go of her waist and cups her face with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. “Aw, princess,” he murmurs. “You sensitive now? Hm?”

She sniffles and nods her head. She’s been much more forthcoming ever since the suppository and the pill worked their way into her system. Behind the glossy sheen of her tears, her pupils are even wider and darker than Steve’s. It’s hardly taken any work at all to get her to come twice for him, she’s so keyed up.

Bucky tuts lovingly and brings the still buzzing vibrator up in front of her face. He twists the base, turning it off. Lena’s whole body slumps between them with relief, and Bucky chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. This might not be over for you.”

“W-what …” she swallows dryly. “What do you mean?”

“You still have a choice to make.” Bucky taps the little bullet vibrator against her lips. “Open.” She clamps her mouth shut stubbornly, so Bucky shrugs and rubs it over her instead, smearing her own release onto her lips. He leans in and slots his mouth over hers, licking the taste of her right back. “Mmm,” he hums. “Somebody’s been drinking their pineapple juice.”

She’s glowering at him when he pulls back. Bucky licks his lips like he’s savoring the last taste of a fatty meal. He can tell from the look on her face that he’s actually right: she has been drinking it. He feels a rush of fondness mixed with anger come at that—Fond, because it’s proof that she takes even his smallest teachings to heart.

“No, seriously. That’s why I have a glass each morning. It makes cum taste sweeter. … Pussy, too.”

Anger, because it’s not him she’s been drinking it for.

He forces the latter emotion away with a deep breath and a long exhale. He doesn’t have to be angry, because nobody but him is ever going to taste that pussy again. … Well, almost nobody but him. “Okay, little one,” he sighs. “Time to make a choice.” He reaches around her and tucks the vibe back into Steve’s pocket. Then he looks down and meets her gaze.

Her pretty blue eyes are wide but dazed, high from the drugs coursing through her system. Bucky smiles and cups her face with both hands. She’s so fucking beautiful, with her round little face and plush lips, her pretty blue eyes. They’re near arctic in color—closer to Steve’s cornflower blue than Bucky’s own muddled blue-grey. Sharp and clear, like ice underwater, and positively gorgeous when they’re crying.

Lena sniffles and Bucky’s heart twinges with affection. He leans in and kisses her cheeks, cleaning up her tears. “You need to listen to me now, Polina,” he murmurs, feeling her shudder underneath his touch. “Are you listening?”

She whines a little, not able to give up completely on her stubbornness, even now. Bucky loves her so goddamn much. She tries to squirm in their hold again, but as soon as her over sensitized clit bumps Bucky’s thigh, she’s calming back down. “What?” she asks quietly, sniffling and trying to put on a stiff upper lip. It��s cute.

“It’s up to you, how this goes,” Bucky tells her. He looks over to his right and catches the eye of one of the widows. It’s Belova. He jerks his head for her to go and get the supplies that are waiting in the wings. She disappears and reappears with a rolling tray table of tattoo supplies. “This,” he says to Lena, “is what’s happening.”

She squints in confusion at it for a second or two—the tray of gauze and ointment, inks and gloves and gun—before her eyes register the stencil and read it … and go wide in realization. She jerks in their hold, thrashing, tossing her head back against Steve’s chest in another vain attempt to hurt him. “No!” she huffs, the sound breaking into a pitiful whimper at the end, despite her bravery. “No, you can’t!”

Bucky waits her out, and sure enough, her little tantrum dies down. She cries, and he wipes those tears away, too. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s not so bad.”

“It is!” she cries. “I hate you. I hate you!”

“You’re a smart girl, Lena. You can’t tell me you didn’t always know you’d wind up here.” He tilts her chin up when she refuses to look at him. Her tearful, angry eyes meet his, and he offers her a tender smile. He gives her another kiss, just a peck on the lips, this time. “I always get what I want, sora mica,” he murmurs, right against her lips.

Little sister.

She shudders underneath his touch but doesn’t shirk away, and Bucky preens because he knows the war that’s going on in her head right now, even if she’ll never admit to it. Revulsion, mixed with lust, and darkness, and something too close for comfort to love. It’s what he used to feel, back before he decided to give up on conventional morality altogether. Poor little Lena, though, he thinks sadly. She hasn’t gotten there yet. Oh well, she’s young, she’ll learn.

“Now,” he tells her, thumbing over the familial cleft in her chin. “You have two choices, sweet pea. You ready to listen to ‘em?”

She grits her teeth and purses her lips in an angry little moue, stubborn thing, though she capitulates when Bucky tightens his grip on her chin. “Yes,” she whispers tightly.

Bucky smiles. “Okay. Now, two things are happening, no matter what,” he says, raising a warning eyebrow at her. “You’re getting this tattooed on your body … and Gleb back there is going for a long swim in the Hudson.” He waits her out while she throws another hissy fit over that, tears leaking and eyes burning up at him. Bucky sighs and looks off to the side until it’s over. Then, when she’s slumped back against Steve again, all tuckered out, he continues, “If you hold still like a good girl, I won’t take your dress off in front of all these people, won’t force any more orgasms outta you down here where everyone can see. And Gleb’ll get wheeled off to his morphine and an easy death. No torture, just the widow’s bite—lickety-split, no fuss-no muss.”

He watches as her eyes flare and her face crumples with suppressed emotion. She composes herself faster this time, though, and he continues softly, drawing her lip down with his thumb. “But, if you make things difficult? I’ll have you squirting all over this floor before I knock you out and ink you while you’re unconscious. And Gleb will have …” he looks off to the side, as if trying to parse out his words, “... mmm, he’ll have a very stressful weekend.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, squeezing her chin sternly enough that it smooshes her cheeks the barest bit. “Are you gonna be good?”

She looks torn for a second or two, but then her eyes slip closed in defeat. In Bucky’s hand, she gives the tiniest of nods.

Bucky’s pleased, but he wants more from her. “Tell me,” he commands. “You’re gonna hold nice and still?”

She sniffles and nods again. “Yes,” she breathes. “I’ll hold s-still. I’ll … I’ll be good.”

Her meek response satisfies him. Feeling a sudden wash of tenderness towards her, he leans down and presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Thank you, little one. You know how I hate to see you struggle.”

She shivers against him but doesn’t throw out any bratty quip. She keeps her eyes down, avoidant. Sighing, Bucky pulls back and steps aside to have a word with Belova. He tells her his plans for Gleb, and she gives a sharp nod and heads off to handle it. Bucky knows then that he can put the idiot man from his mind for good. The widows will more than take care of him.

Bucky returns to Steve and Lena, ready to get to work. Really, he’d prefer Natasha to be the one doing this. Bucky’s no amateur with the gun, but he’s not as good as she is. Oh well. He has a steady hand, and the design is extremely simple. Just that one phrase, in cyrillic:

собственность дракона.

Translated roughly, it means: Property of the Dragon.

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Sit with her on the bench. It’ll help keep her calm.”

Along with the cart of tattoo supplies, a rolling stool, a bench, and a padded armrest have been brought over from the Red Room. Steve all but lifts Lena and brings her over there, straddling the bench first before pulling her to straddle it in front of him. Bucky goes about setting up, snapping on a pair of black vinyl gloves while Steve wraps his arms around Lena’s waist and murmurs quietly into her ear. Bucky smiles at the pair of them. Steve cares about Polina, too, has known her for almost a decade, and he’s always had a knack for calming her down. A good thing, since Bucky’s so naturally gifted at riling her up.

He sits on the stool and scoots over to them. Lena watches him warily. Steve’s used both his and Bucky’s discarded ties to bind her arm down at the wrist and at the bend of her elbow, in case she gets second thoughts about her promise of good behavior. Bucky’s mouth quirks at the ingenuity, and his dick twitches at the optics. He’ll have to take a picture, one he’s got the ink in. A shot of her arm; reddened and bleeding with his mark, and his and Steve’s neckties framing it. Fuck, he might jerk off to it sometime.

He spends a minute getting the ink prepared, and then he carefully cleans her inner forearm and applies the stencil. It’s small but long, stretching almost the full length between the ties. It’ll take a good hour or more in its entirety, but Bucky isn’t a sadist: His little one has been through a lot, and they’ve got a long night ahead of them once they take her upstairs. Bucky wants that time to be spent mostly in pleasure, not pain. They’ll just do the outline, for now.

Lena whimpers when the paper peels back from her skin, revealing the design left behind. “Bucky,” she pleads, though one look up at him and her begging stalls. Bucky gives her a grim, apologetic look, and she knows. She knows she’s not getting out of this. She whines lowly and turns her face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, his big arms wrapped tightly around her waist, comforting and restraining all at once. “You’ll be fine, hon. This is how it has to be.”

Bucky settles himself and the gun, then turns it on. Soon, the buzzing fills the small space between the three of them. In the background there’s still the noise of the club: music, chatter, bodies moving around. But in their little corner in the back, it almost feels private now that they’re centered around what Bucky’s about to do to her. “Okay, malyshka,” he murmurs, waiting until he’s got her full attention. “Watch the gun. Don’t want you jerking around in surprise.”

He’s a little taken aback by the emotions that hit, as he brings the needle down and starts inking her for the first time. He’s marking her permanently, branding her as his in a way that will never wash off, and from which she can never escape. And despite her tears and the ties binding her arm down, she is sitting there for him, allowing it. That goes straight to Bucky’s cock as sure as anything else he’s ever done to her, and he spends the rest of the session focusing on each line and curve, putting the red ink underneath her skin and trying to work out what it is that’s twisting up in his gut so bad. There’s lust and possessiveness, that much he expected, but there’s also a certain amount of … melancholy? Maybe. Whatever it is, it’s there too. A feeling of resolution, of an era coming to an end. Arousing and yet oddly bittersweet.

Lena’s fist is already clenched when he starts, but he can see her body stiffening further as the burn of the needle really sets in. Her arm flexes and her fingers curl harder into her palm, the veins popping against the strained lock of her inner elbow. Steve keeps up a gentle litany of praise and reassurance in her ear, half of which Bucky hears and half of which he misses due to his own focus on the gun. He’d love to take Steve’s place, be the one to hold her and comfort her through this, but that’s just not possible because he simply doesn’t trust anyone else to do the work.

He’s even glad that Natasha refused to do it, at this point. Because this isn’t just any tattoo. It’s personal and intimate. A promise as good as any wedding ring. Probably better-than, in the fidelity it’ll enforce. Not on Lena’s part, poor thing, but on the part of any man who might dare to entertain the idea of an affair with her. One look at her arm, and that idea would go straight up in smoke. These red words are branding her for life, in more ways than one. It’s only right that Bucky be the one to do it.

“Almost done,” he murmurs when he’s finishing up at her wrist. It’s the most painful area, and he regrets saving it for last. But his girl does beautifully and keeps relatively still, sometimes hissing or whining in pain but never asking for a break, and never twitching enough to throw Bucky off course. He finishes the outline and sits back, setting the gun aide on the cart and reaching for the salve. He smiles at his little one, who by now has stopped crying. “Good job, sweet pea,” he praises softly.

Her defenses are down from having all of her focus on something other than him for so long. She only blushes a little when he uses the nickname, and says nothing snarky back. Bucky’s heart pulls with it. In Steve’s lap, she watches as Bucky uses a tongue depressor to apply the salve in long, smooth strokes over the raw areas. She blinks at her arm like she’s fully waking from a dream. “... That’s it?” she asks, sounding surprised, maybe even disappointed—though that’s probably just Bucky’s wishful thinking.

“For now,” he tells her, bringing out the non-stick pads and adhesive wrap. He’s giving her all the aftercare that he’s neglected on himself—already the back of his neck and shoulders feels tight and unpleasant, and he doesn’t want the same for her. Steve pulls the ties loose to release her arm, and Bucky explains, “You have delicate skin, sweetheart. We’ll let this heal, fill it in another time. Add some other design elements, if you want.” He catches her look of surprise and smiles, then looks away before her expression can shutter on him. He gently applies the pads along her skin, wrapping her up in an opera glove’s length worth of neon pink animal print bandaging, nice and tight. “There you go.”

“Cheetah print, really?”

“Just special for you, my little hellcat. Don’t worry, you can take it off tomorrow.” He rolls out on the stool and goes around to stand just in front of the bench. Briefly, he meets Steve’s eyes, and they have a short, non-verbal conversation, at the end of which Steve nods smally in agreement. “Okay,” Bucky says, reaching out to palm Lena’s face.

She automatically goes to shirk away from it, but Steve whispers something in her ear—Bucky doesn’t hear what—and it makes her settle. She bites her lip and peeks up at Bucky through her lashes and ruined makeup. “I was good,” she whispers, like she’s half-sure Bucky’s going to revoke his end of the deal.

He tries not to let it show on his face, how that hurts him. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were very good.” He bends over to kiss the top of her head, then turns and searches out Belova. She’s standing next to Maximoff now, over at the bar. Bucky goes over and holds out his hand. Pietro shakes first, Yelena second. “Thank you,” he tells them. “For bringing her back safely.”

“Again,” Yelena says with a smirk and a semi-suppressed eyeroll.

“You should get a leash,” Pietro jokes.

“Or a homing beacon.”

Bucky waves them off (though the homing beacon idea has occurred before), telling them to go back to their drinks and enjoy their evening. He doesn’t bother asking if the Gleb issue’s been dealt with—he knows from the look on Belova’s face that it has.

Part four

Masterlist

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[buckyysdoll]

— 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐜𝐬 —

જ⁀➴ — summary: self explanatory; a/n: fic song choice: “Slow Hand” — The Pointer Sisters -> i can imagine him just being your idiot and pretending to strip tease and singing along, for no other reason that it makes his wife laugh and there’s no sound in the world more beautiful; cw: allusions to sex, but otherwise just soft; pairing: bucky x f!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

• “get your fucking hands off my wife” type of husband clodisiaiixkaioai

• or he brushes soft fingertips over your cheek and says quiet as death, “who did this to you?”

• bucky knows you can defend yourself perfectly well, so is more than happy to pin the bastard down and let you go for it, let you be feral 😌 supportive husband 💪🏻

• but that doesn’t mean he can’t be possessive as well, and though he tries to control it, it does still get between you. it’s just that he loves you too fucking much to know what to do with it, how to breathe through it —

• jealous!bucky with his arm around your waist in public, or coming up behind you to press a kiss to the side of your neck with his broad hands settled on your hips

• extremely protective, and most of all against himself; his biggest fear is who he was, what he could do and the threat it returning. And so that thought of hurting you — the risk of it pulled him away time and again. took him from your bedside in the middle of the night and went insisting that you shouldn’t have to do this, have to love him.

• because he just can’t let go of who he was like you did readily, and couldn’t yet see that loving was easy when centred on him; was as natural as breath.

• in bed, he does the cold feet thing but with his metal arm on your waist from behind, his hand on your bare tummy giving rise to a shriek that’s half laugh and half cursing your husband.

•BUCKY DOES THE HAIR TUCK THING BEFORE HE KISSES YOU, AND YOU KNOW BY THE LOOK IN HIS EYES WHAT HE'S THINKING, BY HIS CHANGED PITCH IN BREATHING YOU KNOW WHAT HE WANTS, AND HIS EYES WON'T LEAVE YOUR OWN BUT FOR YOUR LIPS, WHICH THEY JUST CAN’T STOP STRAYING TO

• i do believe he’d also be the type to channel aaron warner with a little “lift your hips for me love” 🫡🫠KCKIDIDKSNKSCKAKFKKSKXKKS

• bucky is obviously very touch-starved, but i think physical contact would definitely be his love language once he gets to know and feel and trust it, through learning with you. so then you’re touching in some way almost constantly, whether it be a hand held in public (or a throat held in private? *😏) because it just assures you both and keeps you steady, keeps you grounded.

• *as in like, this may sound weird, but i feel like he’d love to feel your pulse because it assures him that you’re here and that you’re safe? and even more so when he’s got you worked up, cos his heightened senses feel your heart rate pick up at his touch😭 so when you’re making out, his hand will come to rest on the curve of your neck, and he’ll slowly brush his thumb across the hollow of your throat as he’s getting drunk off kissing you

• so a hand on your thigh when sat together is expected, his thumb rubbing the same slow circles into jeans or skin in the same way that he does it with your hands held. or he’ll be holding your hand in public and then just randomly, absentmindedly bring it to his mouth and press a light kiss to the back of it

• he’s just so goddamn proud to be the man on your arm, and that 40s charm and courtesy with ladies hadn’t been erased from him like so much else had

• we all just know what he’d be like; as a boyfriend, as a husband, as an absolute gentleman.

• you get soft!bucky cos you’re the only one other than steve who ever tried to see the good in him; i-hate-everyone-but-you, grumpy x sunshine trope 🤌🏻

• although he still doesn’t think that he deserves you at all :’( so he often pulls away which leads to fights, and emotional make-ups.

• and these may or may not lead to inevitably slow + passionate sex where you’re both left shaking just from love for the other before you’d even gone so far as touch.

• and those nights end with your mutual tears as you show him just how much love you have to give, how much he’s worth. and so too do they threaten to fall as you give yourself over to his slow loving hands; over to his mouth and the feel of his skin as he shows you that to him, you are divine.

• in your relationship in general he needs frequent reassurance, and you’ll always give it gladly with no single question asked. after all, you both had scars that ran deep — you needed it from him just as much.

• and of course, where would we be without slow dances in the kitchen, which are somehow more intimate when dressed in his shirt than anything you’d done thus far without your clothes on. it’s in the way he cradles you to him by the songs that were custom to him in his youth, with one hand held in his against his chest and the other around you. it’s in him breathing in your scent from your hair, from the soft crook between your neck and shoulder as you softly sway and move, him exhaling in the place where he’d found home, your fingers finding his hair.

• it’s just a very soft love where you’re both safe and adored and accepted; met fully where you are, and not asked to change but to grow old together.

• because of his vibranium arm, idk why but i just feel that he’d love to pick you up — whether it be jokingly or tender. you fall asleep on the couch? he’ll lift you and carry you gently to bed. it’s something in the way his solid strength can keep you safe that he’s assured he can protect you, and that you trust him when so vulnerable.

• so too, though, will he hoist you up into his arms with a natural ease, and lay you down with kisses pressed to each part of your body he lays bare. then bucky whispers with that wicked half-smile, ‘you’re gonna regret that’ in response to something teasing you had said —

• oh, and how your sounding laugh made his heart leap.

• okay and this makes me melt, but bucky loves to cook for you and give you those date nights and perfect mornings-after you deserve. and even though that first dinner he made you on your first official ‘date’ outside the watchful gaze of the other avengers he did burn, every moment still was perfect because it was him, because he cared enough.

• he plans to bring you breakfast in bed, though the smell of cooking bacon and that coffee woke you first. on padding bare feet you enter the kitchen and are met with the sight of him with his back to you, standing at the stove with a wooden spoon in hand and that pair of pyjamas you’d bought him. the smile that touches your lips takes up your whole face, and you couldn’t hope to stop it. you come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist and there he softens, muscles settling into the shape yours take, as he has learned to trust a world that has you in it. and so then bucky smiles to himself to feel your touch; he turns, and he sees you’re in his shirt and loves you deeper for it.

• coming in for a good morning kiss is something inevitable, no choice to be made. The truth? You hadn’t believed in miracles until you’d met the Winter Soldier, and fallen for the man with the warmest of hearts beneath that old fabled ice.

• But he no longer flinched at contact, knowing touch could be beautiful when shared; learning that to love and touch could mean the whole world and no hurt at all.

• he just genuinely loves to take care of you, regardless of the hour or what it is you need.

• his sleepy voice just drives you insane and he knows it, he loves it; he presses the advantage. he’s teasing as he wakes up and the first thing he wants is you, seeing you lay so stubborn in pretending that the husk of his voice is not arousing, damn the man. so excuse my vulgarity in saying, but he’s some kinda *morning man* if you know what i mean 😌

• though then again, he’s a man for any goddam time of the day when it comes to his wife and her love

• but aside from all that, it’s like his voice was the sole sure light in your life; each time he spoke you felt the stir within your gut that said at long last, i am home. you find yourself waiting for the moment when he walks through that front door and you then breathe again as you eat, sleep and talk with the love of your life. and somehow life means something more than you’d ever thought it could all those years past, yet here you are. sharing home and hearth with the man who’d become your love and best friend all in one. He who’d dragged your heart back up from HYDRA’s raging hells.

• Bucky loves to be touching in sleep, so your back is always curved against his front, or your head’s on his chest. The first waking seconds of each day were spent like this: his fingers carding through your hair or running gently down your back, tracing shapes, wondering how on earth he got so lucky as then.

• thinking that if only he’d known just how good it could be, then he would’ve known just what he had been living for all those years in the cold, empty dark.

• comforting him in the predawn hours when nightmares break his sleep, and soothing him back to the rest that escaped him with soft fingers in his hair; or a cold damp flannel for the fever in his head that you accompanied with praise, with words of comfort.

• You take his bad days with his good, as he does you. There’s a silent understanding. Something that’s mutual and unsaid before it’s shared out in the open: how you both had pasts with HYDRA that left hollow spaces where life had once dwelled.

• And so he proposes one morning in bed, cos i can’t get enough of this scenario my god. you’re both just sleepy and he’s kissing you and his smile is lazy and content and he’s happy, and he just smiles against your lips and says “marry me” cos there’s only one thing that could improve upon that happiness, that joy. and you don’t know if he means it at first and it scares you just how much you want him to, but he’s here and he’s saying the words, and he’s never meant anything more in his life.

• The engagement ring that’s been sitting in his sock drawer waiting for the “right moment” is now finally aired to breathe, pushed lightly onto your wedding-band finger that you only see half-blind through unshed tears.

• should i have included dad!bucky hcs? or pregnant!reader hcs? IDK

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

#fanfic #fanfic writer #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic writer #marvel fic #marvel fics #marvel fanfic #marvel bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes hcs #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x wife!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #SoundCloud

[apomaro-mellow]

Forest Guardian WIP

You know when you write a whole fic in service to get to a single scene? Well I started this months ago and I forgot what that scene was. So I'm posting this wholly unfinished bc i literally can't remember where i was going with it but i'm open to suggestions

fantasy au; a/b/o; omegaverse; alpha!eddie x omega!steve

The forest guardian's face was the stuff of legends. Apparently so handsome that he could've started a war. At least, that was what Eddie's employer had pronounced when he'd hired him for the job. Fetch the man and escort him back to the king. A beauty so radiant deserved to be royalty. And of course, continue the royal line.

"Imagine, an omega so immaculate, climbing trees and trudging in the dirt", the king had said.

Eddie had heard the rumors of the creature who protected the wild lands. He didn't buy the whole "shining diamond of an omega" thing though. He'd been out in the forests and he saw what lurked in the brush. Nature was full of wonders and delights, sure. But Eddie was rather certain he'd be bringing back a rock giant.

The king (and many others) chose to conveniently forget the forest guardian's tales of strength and power. Even so, he was given a job, and he would complete it. But not before receiving the king's, shall we say, blessing?

As a bounty hunter, Eddie was trusted to be capable of venturing into the woods alone and bringing back a spirit of nature. As an alpha, he was not trusted to travel alone with an omega of any status.

The king snapped a cuff on his wrist, enchanted by the court's mage. "Should you lay a single ignoble finger on what is mine, this pretty bracelet shall slice your hand off."

"My king thinks so highly of me", Eddie grinned.

He was sent off for his quarry and to his credit, Eddie did attempt to remove the cuff, but of course there was nothing to do about it.

"And what constitutes an 'ignoble finger'?", Eddie mused out loud as he entered the forest. "Am I not allowed to shake his hand? Pat his shoulder?"

The first day, Eddie just tracked. He ignored the animal tracks for the most part, focusing on things that seemed natural, yet out of place. He didn't find anything the second or third day either, but continued deeper into the woods.

On the fourth day, he was entertaining himself by acting out a conversation between the king and his third scorned mistress to keep the boredom away.

"You talk to yourself a lot", a voice said from the trees.

Eddie looked up but saw nothing. It wasn't until his eyes adjusted to the sunlight dappling through that he made out a human figure.

"Well, well, well. Been lookin' for you for a while now", Eddie said.

#now that i think about it #i might been tryin to write sub!eddie #bc while he cant touch steve steve can touch him #but idk #apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #wip

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 10 – FOUND FAMILY

Human Nature by surveycorpsjean

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 24,038 Tags: Civil War Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Polyamory

Summary: If they say why? Tell 'em that it's human nature.

Reasons why I love it: Steve and Bucky wooing a woefully oblivious Tony? What more could any of us want? I love all of the team interactions in this, along with Pepper and Rhodey, who are amazingly written as well, but nothing beats the Stuckony dates. They're so sweet, and Steve and Bucky's scheming to get Tony to accept their love and squash his insecurities is adorable. If you haven't read this one yet, please go and check it out. I bet you'll love it just as much as I do!

Semaphore by DevilDoll

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 40,040 Tags: Team Bonding, Misunderstandings, Depression

Summary: "I’m trying to like you, Tony. You’re just making it very hard."

Reasons why I love it: Tony's voice in this is incredible, it feels like it's ripped straight out of canon. All the little bits and pieces about how the team comes together are so fricking good. The thought of the Asgardians jamming out to Tubthumping randomly jumps into my mind from time to time, and it always puts a smile on my face. Also, Miriam is a fucking treasure and one of the best OCs I've seen in any fic ever. I aspire to be her when I grow up. Steve and Tony are their usual disastrous selves, but when they learn to speak each others' language, the result is absolutely beautiful. I love this fic to piece, so if you haven't read it yet, please go ahead and do that!

Or Call Me Something Else by FestiveFerret

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 25,476 Tags: Misunderstandings, Friends With Benefits, Lack of Communication

Summary: There are things Steve Rogers doesn't like about the future - see: Instagram - and there are things Steve Rogers loves about the future - see: hot, wild, no-strings-attached sex with Tony Stark. That is, until Tony drops the "b" word, and Steve realizes that what he thought was casual fun was something much more serious to the other man.

Reasons why I love it: I could gush about this fic for hours, but I'll try to keep it short. The misunderstanding that kick-starts the conflict of this fic is really great because it's so believable. And all the consequent steps that Steve and Tony take in response to this conflict feel incredibly true to their characters. I really, really love the way it gets resolved in the end, and there are so many fantastic moments in between. I especially enjoyed Natasha's role in all of it and how Steve slowly comes to realize certain things about himself. So yeah, this fic is incredible, and I really hope you check it out!

#marvel #stony #fanfic #fic rec #fanfic rec #ficrec #a year in fanfic recs #found family

[navybrat817]

A Little Push

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he deserves to be with you, but gets a little push to speak up when he sees your ex. Word Count: Over 5.1k Warnings: E.S.C, unprotected (v)aginal (s)ex (wrap it before you tap it), shower (s)ex, jealousy, (f)lirting, insecurities, slight feels (it's me), idiotic Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) and an ex. A/N: For @drabblewithfrannybarnes and the gym prompt. I hope you like it! ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass (and thank you!), and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wondered some days if he made the right choice by working for S.H.I.E.L.D.. While he didn’t consider himself to be completely standoffish as he recovered, no matter how much Sam tried to joke about that, he still had a difficult time getting along with some of the agents. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He attempted to strike up conversations with a few, but that only led to forced interactions and awkward silences.

He didn’t try much after that.

Maybe they didn’t trust him because of his past, even with the work he had done with the Avengers, even though he had no choice in his past actions. He wouldn’t hold that against them. He was even ready to accept that his circle of friends would remain small, which he didn’t mind.

But he hadn’t expected you to come along.

“You can sit with me if you’d like.”

At first, he thought you were talking to someone else until he realized your gaze was on him. He didn’t recognize you, but he remembered Steve saying that they were getting a transfer from another division. He hoped he wasn’t glaring or giving you an awkward stare, but your beautiful smile threw him for a loop. Unless he was with Steve and the others, no one asked him to sit with them.

But you did.

It took another moment for him to respond, but he took you up on your offer and joined you. He also picked up on the stares right away from the other agents, like they were jealous that he managed to get your attention. He didn’t blame them for wanting it.

Especially since the next smile you gave him made him fall in love a little more.

Maybe love at first sight does exist.

“Do you go by Bucky or James? I can call you Sarge if you want, Sergeant.”

You explained over breakfast that you transferred because you needed a change and were excited to take on some new tasks. He didn’t pick up on any bad intentions as you spoke with him. He found it easy to talk to you. You even got a couple of smiles out of him.

“Thanks for sitting with me. Do you want to have breakfast with me again tomorrow?”

Bucky accepted.

As the two of you grew closer, it became routine to grab breakfast together in the breakroom and chat quietly between reps when you worked out. He even shifted his schedule around so the two of you could exercise together. He looked forward to it.

And naturally on his path to continue making amends, he had to punish himself by thinking he wasn’t good enough for you. Because why would he be? You became an agent to help others and how many had he destroyed? Not by choice, never his choice, but he was still waging that war in his mind and heart.

“Will today finally be the day, Barnes?” Natasha asked as she finished her stretches.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes flickering to the clock on the wall as he waited for you to enter the onsite gym.

“Yes, you do and let it be today, please. I can’t have Rogers winning the pool.”

“You’re taking bets, Romanoff?” he asked with a cold stare, as if the Black Widow would cower under his gaze. “Un-fucking-believable.”

He told Steve in confidence that he liked being around you. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha found out not long after that. Steve said more than once that Bucky wouldn’t be breaking any bylaws by dating you. Natasha added in passing that mixing business with pleasure didn’t seem to bother you as you had dated another agent sometime back before your transfer. An amicable breakup from what Sam heard.

For living in a world of spies and soldiers, no one could seem to keep their mouths shut.

“I’ll split the winnings with you,” she offered unapologetically. “You can use it to take her on a date. You do have something nice to wear that isn’t a Henley, right?”

The smartass remark he had on the tip of his tongue died when you walked through the door. Clad in your normal black tank top and leggings with your bag on your shoulder, he found himself staring the way he always did as you glided along the floor with confidence and a smile. A few heads turned to get a glimpse as you walked by.

But you directed your gaze at him.

“Hey, handsome,” you smiled, setting your bag and water down. You didn’t call anyone handsome or any other sort of nickname, except for him.

“Hi?”

Why did that come out as a question?

“Hopeless,” Natasha muttered softly enough for him to hear. “Hey.”

“Hey, Nat. How’s it going?”

His cheeks warmed as you began your stretches and chatted with the redhead, wanting nothing more than to put his hands on your hips and guide your body. He wanted to believe that you liked him enough for him to make a move. Why else would you keep getting breakfast with him?

And why else were you bending over right in front of him in a pair of leggings that looked like a second skin?

Fuck.

“Oh, I have your book in my bag,” you said, looking at him from between your legs. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

Thank fuck I’m upside down from your angle so you don’t see me staring at your ass.

Guilt crept in as he blinked. You were nothing but kind and accepting and here he was oogling over you. Why couldn’t he get it through his head that he was your friend and nothing more?

On the other hand, why couldn’t he get it through his head that he had the right to be happy?

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

“Do you mind spotting me?” you asked once you finished warming up. “Unless you plan to help Nat. I can wait.”

“Oh, no. I’m just here for entertainment,” she joked.

“Thanks,” you smiled, heading to the first machine with Bucky in tow. “Any plans this weekend?” you asked, checking the weight on the bar before you took a seat.

“No plans,” he said, taking his spot at the end of the bench so he could spot you. “Kind of a boring old man.”

“You’re not boring,” you said, winking as you laid back. “But I’ll give you old.”

“Rude,” he smiled as you giggled. “What about you?”

“Nope. No plans,” you answered, giving him a glance as you set your hands on the bar. “No plans at all.”

Are you giving me an opening?

“That’s too bad,” is what he said.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you said with quiet disappointment.

Sorry, Nat. Not winning the pool today because I’m a fucking idiot.

Bucky kept stealing glances at you as the two of you went through your normal workout routine, unable to figure out how you managed to look beautiful while lifting weights. The fact of the matter is you looked beautiful to him no matter what you did. He fluctuated between his heart stopping and losing his breath whenever he saw you. Especially when you smiled at him.

And he wouldn’t take that leap.

“You know what sounds really nice? A massage,” you said, setting the weight down to grab your water. He focused on your mouth as you brought the bottle to your lips, his fingers flexing as you swallowed once. Twice.

Are you giving me another opening?

Before Bucky could think of a suave reply, the door opened. A tall, dark haired agent he didn’t recognize walked in and did a slow sweep of the gym. From the quick assessment, he gathered that the guy was in shape. He didn’t necessarily walk through like he owned the place, but it bordered on cockiness.

I don’t even know him, so why do I want to punch his face in?

“Wait. Is that Nate?” you asked, your gaze following the man as Natasha silently walked over to join you. “What’s he doing here?”

Nate?

“You know him?” Bucky asked as the guy, Nate apparently, stopped to chat with someone by the mirrors.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, setting your water down and wiping your hands on your thighs as you avoided his gaze. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex-boyfriend?

“You two worked in the same division, didn’t you? Before you transferred?” Natasha asked. You nodded in reply. “It didn’t work out with you two, huh?”

“No, but it wasn’t a dramatic breakup or anything. No hard feelings,” you explained.

Bucky remembered Sam saying it was amicable, but he still felt the need to shield you away from your ex. Even if he hadn’t spotted you yet. Maybe he was ignoring you. That couldn’t be it. No one could ignore you.

Did you want him to notice you?

“That’s a shame,” Natasha said, swinging her gaze toward Bucky. “He’s cute.”

Traitor. Thought you were my friend.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed.

Bucky grabbed the nearest barbell to get his head back into why he was in the gym in the first place, gritting his teeth so hard he was shocked they didn’t crack.

“And there’s this thing he used to do with his tongue that just…” you trailed off with a sigh.

The metal hand gripped the barbell tighter. Nate was an ex, not a current boyfriend. It didn’t work out for a reason.

“You need a moment?” the redhead asked.

“No, I just need to get laid,” you said, glancing at Bucky out of the corner of your eye.

If you need to get laid, I can help you with that. Not Nate or some other prick. They’re not worthy of touching you. Neither am I, but that’s not the fucking point. I can do things with my tongue that’ll make you see stars.

“Bucky?” you asked gently. “Are you okay?”

Far fucking from it.

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

You pointed to the barbell in his hands. “Because you just bent that in half.”

Glancing down at his hands, he saw that the stainless steel was indeed bent in half and ignored Natasha’s snort as he tried to fix it. “I was just testing the durability. It’s terrible. A health and safety hazard, really.”

“I didn’t realize your job involved quality assurance,” you teased as he set the piece of equipment down.

“It’s kind of a new hobby,” he said, a weird look crossing his face.

A new hobby? Really?

“Okay, Sarge,” you giggled.

Your laughter seemed to catch Nate’s attention since he immediately looked behind him. A look of realization crossed his features before he smiled. The look on his face made Bucky’s heart drop as he excused himself from the agent he was speaking to and made a beeline toward you. The man may not be your boyfriend anymore, but he still felt something for you.

Either that or the look of longing was easily faked.

“Hey!" Nate smiled as he stopped in front of you, opening his arms as he leaned in. "Good to see you."

“You, too. And you don’t want to do that,” you said, gesturing to yourself. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Never bothered me before,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. He met Bucky’s gaze over your shoulder with the smallest of smirks. “Smell just as good as I remember.”

“Don’t,” Natasha whispered to Bucky when the hug lingered for a few more seconds.

Bucky wasn’t planning on doing anything. Not right now, at least. Committing murder wasn’t on his “to do” list when he woke up today, but he was seconds away from snapping. Would you forgive him if he broke one of Nate’s bones?

“You must be Bucky,” Nate said once he released you.

He had to stop himself from shoving you behind his back. “You must be the ex,” he said, not bothering with any attempt to be friendly. “Why are you here?”

Nate either didn’t intimidate easily or he didn’t care. “You talked about me?” he teased, nudging you with his elbow.

“No, not really,” you smiled a little, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

He tried to keep a straight face because he wasn’t jealous. He had no reason to be jealous. That certainly wasn’t the reason why his fingers began to twitch. Wasn’t the reason he wanted to knock Nate’s teeth in.

Not at all.

“To anwer your question, I accepted a transfer and was getting a look around the place. I was also here to exercise, but now I think I want to catch up,” he smiled, turning his attention back to you.

“You transferred here?” you asked in disbelief.

You don’t sound thrilled, which is a good sign, right?

“Yeah, I got promoted,” he explained, angling his body to put distance between you and Bucky. “You doing anything after this?”

“Me,” Bucky said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Maybe you didn't hear me.

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned around Nate to stare at Bucky. "I'm doing you?" you asked.

Fuck, you heard me.

"Yeah, Barnes. Is she doing you?" Natasha asked without a hint of humor in her tone as Nate glared over his shoulder.

"I mean," he cleared his throat as he tried to think of an excuse, which wasn't easy with three pairs of eyes on him. "She's hanging out with me. Movie night."

"It's not even nighttime," Nate said skeptically.

"It's an early movie night," he grumbled.

"Yeah, an early movie night," you agreed slowly. Bucky almost sighed in relief before you looked at Nate. "But we can catch up later, okay? Think my workout is over for now."

Bucky's mouth fell open when you went to grab your things. "But-"

"Movie night. I know. Thanks for your help," you smiled, but it seemed forced. "I'll see you later, Nat. And Nate."

"Later," Nate said, his gaze lingering as you headed toward the locker room. "She really is something, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," Bucky agreed, staring after you, too. He couldn't argue with that.

"It's really nice that you two are friends," Nate smiled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder as his blood boiled. "Enjoy your movie night."

Natasha stepped in front of Bucky before he could go after the prick. "Do not," she said as Nate headed toward another machine.

"I have to do something," Bucky said because he was close to losing it.

"You really want to do something?" she asked, tilting her head toward the locker room. "Go talk to her. Please."

"Fine. I will," Bucky said, stepping around Natasha as he made up his mind.

"I meant when she was done!" she called after him.

Bucky stalked toward the locker room and pushed the double doors open. He took a breath as he walked through the first row of lockers and spotted you sitting on the bench. Was he making a big mistake?

"You lost?" you asked, removing one of your shoes.

He crossed his arms and shook his head as you took off the other shoe. "You didn't do a cool down."

You met his eyes and smiled. "That's why you came in here?"

"Did you know Nate would be here?" he blurted out.

Smooth.

You blinked slowly at him before you removed your socks. "Nope. And why would it matter if I did? He still works for this organization. Besides, we broke up and moved on."

"If he moved on, why was he smiling at you like that?" he accused.

You stood up with a shrug. "Because we get along? He's a friendly guy. That's just how he is."

"I know how guys smile at girls they like," he said. He knew because he smiled at you that way. "He's still into you."

The frown you gave him made him want to kiss it away before you giggled. "He is not into me anymore."

"Are you two going to date again?" he asked, taking two steps forward. You were still out of his reach. "I know I don't have the right to ask, but I have to know."

Because you're not my girl.

“No, you don't," you confirmed, your gaze softening as you shook your head. "But no, I’m not going to date him again. He's my ex for a reason and that's that."

Bucky inhaled and exhaled slowly, able to breathe a little easier.

"Why? Would it bother you if I did? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous. Bending the bar? Your not-so-subtle excuse for me not to hang out with him? Following me in here?"

The words got stuck in his throat as you waited for an answer, an expectant look on your face. Why was it so hard to say that it would bother him? It shouldn't because if that made you happy, he'd respect that.

Was it wrong that he wanted you to be happy with him and not some other guy?

You hung your head for a split second before you turned back to your locker. "Look, are you done grilling me or are you sticking around?" you asked, pulling your top over your head. "Because I have to shower."

"You think I won't follow you and finish this conversation?"

Your bra came off next. He knew that because you tossed the garment at his face and he was too stunned to catch it. It took him a moment to realize that you were facing him again, your breasts on display as you placed your hands on your hips.

A gentleman would have looked away. A good man would have left. But he was something else entirely and he couldn't stop staring at the vision of perfection in front of him.

"You're free to do whatever you want," you said casually as you spun around and shimmied out of your leggings. His eyes followed the curves as your underwear came off next and it took everything in him not to throw you across the bench and fuck you until you screamed his name. "But I told you. I have to shower."

Bucky didn't speak as you grabbed your towel and shower bag. You didn't bother covering up as you sauntered away from him, like being naked around him was a perfectly normal thing. He wanted it to be a normal thing.

Was that an invitation? Should he take it? Or was it a test?

"Fuck it," he mumbled as he kicked off his shoes and stripped, leaving his clothes next to yours as he searched for you again. If you ended up screaming or punching him, he'd accept that punishment and beg your forgiveness later. He let this go on long enough.

He froze when he saw you under the spray of the water, his cock twitching with interest as he watched the droplets slide from your chest to the vee between your legs. You had your eyes closed and he wasn't sure if he should call out to get your attention. He didn't want to frighten you and make you fall.

You gasped when you opened your eyes, but didn't make a move to cover yourself. He imagined this is what some men saw when a siren lured them out to sea. Beauty that they weren't worthy of looking upon, but too far gone to care as the tide swept them away.

"I guess you really want to finish that conversation?" you asked, your gaze dropping from his face to his chest and a bit lower.

Under your gaze, he wasn't afraid of you looking upon his scars. "I was jealous. I am jealous. I hated seeing him touch you," he admitted.

He wanted to replace Nate's touch with his own.

"There's nothing to be jealous of," you said, swallowing as he moved forward.

"Can't help it," he said, not blinking as he moved closer. "You also said I could do whatever I wanted."

"I did," you nodded.

His wide shoulders blocked some of the spray as he stepped into the shower and backed you against the wall. "What if I said I wanted to do you?"

Very fucking eloquent.

"I'd say it's about fucking time since I've been trying to get your attention and it better not be a joke," you said, placing your hands on his shoulders as your gaze went to his chest again.

You actually want me. Fuck.

He grasped your chin and lifted your head. The corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile and his heart raced as his lips ghosted over yours. "You like me? And you want me to fuck you?"

He needed to hear you say it.

"I was hinting for you to ask me out this weekend. I thought it was obvious?" you asked, a small, vulnerable crack in your voice. "I like you, okay? I'm crazy about you. I have been since you sat down and had breakfast with me that first day and I-"

"I'm a fucking idiot," he whispered before his lips met yours.

His head spun as he kissed you unashamedly, unleashing the want he kept pent up for too long and showing no mercy as he swallowed down the moan you let out. His hands slid down to grip your ass, capturing another small sound in his mouth as he slipped his thigh between your legs. Now that it was out in the open, that you wanted him, he couldn't stop himself.

Unless you told him to.

"So, you like me, too?" you breathed out as he pressed kisses along your neck, your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrust his knee against your wetness.

Gonna lose my fucking mind when I'm inside you.

"So much that I wanted to break Nate's fingers. Or his face," he told you, nipping over your pulse, but careful not to leave a mark. "Want you to forget all about that thing he does with his fucking tongue."

"You up for the challenge?" you teased before he growled.

"Up for it?" he asked as he slid a hand up to your chest, his thumb brushing over your nipple as you whimpered for him. "I'm gonna ruin you. That's a fucking promise."

"Do it. Please," you begged, bringing a hand down to brush your fingers along his thick cock. "Ruin me."

You already looked overwhelmed with pleasure, your eyes half lidded and mouth parted as Bucky moved his knee away and brought one of your legs around his hip. He wanted to fall to his knees and get a taste, but he'd claim you later with his tongue. "Not letting you go if I have you," he warned you, helping you stroke him.

"You better not," you said.

Bucky could've put his fingers under the water, but he brought them to his mouth to wet them before he slipped it between your legs. "You'll be mine," he said as he teased your hole.

"I'm already yours," you gasped as he carefully pushed a finger in and thrust slowly.

"Are you?" he asked, brushing his lips against your jaw as he slid a second finger in. "Fuck, you're tight. You may kill me."

"Yes, I'm yours. And I won't kill you, but I'll make you sorry if you don't fuck me," you huffed impatiently.

He chuckled as he removed his fingers, missing the heat of your body. He understood not wanting to wait any longer. He fucked his own hand enough nights as he thought of you to know that it wasn't enough.

"What if someone walks in?" he questioned, sucking his fingers clean with an obscene groan.

I can convince you to take a day off just to eat you out, right?

"I don't care!" you cried, your voice echoing in the stall as he moved the tip of his cock along your folds. You canted your hips as you tried to take him in and, fuck, if that didn't feed his ego. "If you don't fuck me, I swear I'll- AHH!"

He groaned as he slid home in one thrust, his eyes fluttering shut as your velvety walls gripped him like your life depended on it. He took a deep breath so he didn't lose it on the second thrust. Your perfect pussy was his new home. He never wanted to leave.

"Fuck, baby, you're so needy. I think you want everyone to see that you're mine now," he groaned as he caressed your thigh and drove in deep. Your cunt welcomed each slide as he kept your hips still with his other hand. "Gonna fuck you so hard you won't walk for a week. The way I should've from the start."

"Don't hold back," you moaned, clenching lightly around him. "I can take it."

Bucky couldn't remember ever fucking someone so possessively. "Pussy's even better than I imagined. Made for me. Made for me to wreck."

"Fuck, yes," you cried in response. "Touched myself thinking of you fucking me."

"You fucked your perfect pussy thinking of me?" he asked, imagining your fingers deep inside you. "Moaned my name?"

"Yes," you replied, biting your lip. "Fingers aren't as big as you."

Fuck. There's only so much a man can take.

"Look so beautiful taking my cock. Gonna be so good to you," he grunted, his wet hair falling in front of his eyes. If he had to guess, he probably looked unhinged. Feral. Out of control. "Not letting you go."

Instead of looking afraid, you reached up and lightly threaded your fingers through his hair as your leg shook against his hip. "I won't let you."

He kissed you, almost delirious as the rush of pleasure began to take over. You took his hard, fast thrusts, the symphony of your cries and his moans adding to the sound of wet, slapping skin. Later, he'd make love to you, kiss over every square inch of your beautiful body. He'd tell how crazy he is about you. How you made him happy again.

For now, he needed you to scream his name for the whole gym to hear.

"I'm close, Bucky," you panted into his mouth. "Please."

He doubled his efforts, thrusting so hard he lost his breath with each snap of his hips. "If you're really mine, come. Come for me."

You nearly sobbed his name as you quivered around him, a wave of wetness coating his cock as he kept up his pace and fucked you through your orgasm. "Good girl," he praised as you went limp in his hold.

It was a beautiful sight. Your dazed expression, your cunt clenching with a fresh wave of wetness as you whined. A fucking vision.

"I'm gonna…" he warned, his muscles tensing up as he got closer to the edge.

"Come in me," you begged, tightening around him again. "Please, I need it."

Fuck.

Bucky spilled hot and thick inside you with a guttural moan as he let the ecstasy within him explode, relieved that you didn't make him leave the haven of your body. He was careful not to crush you against the wall as he tried to catch his breath and process that what just happened was real. It wasn't a dream or fantasy. He had you in his arms under the warm water.

Could've had this ages ago if I spoke up.

His lips found yours, his kiss softer than the previous ones. He wasn't sure how long he held you like that, but it was everything he dreamt of and everything he denied himself. He wouldn't do that again.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," you smiled, your breathing still a bit tagged. "And I think I can still walk."

He growled playfully as he rolled his hips, thankful that he had the strength to keep holding you up. His stamina was good for some things. "Come to movie night and I'll make sure you don't walk. You did say you needed to get laid."

"I did say that," you smiled, nipping his bottom lip. "I'll do a movie night if you take me out on a real date."

"This weekend since neither of us have plans. I'd be a bad boyfriend if I didn't take care of you, right?" he asked, kissing the corner of your mouth to avoid your surprised gaze.

Pushed my luck this far. I can go a bit further.

"It's a date," you smiled.

Bucky smiled back as he reached over to shut the water off, wishing he could blame the warmth for the blush in his cheeks. "Sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass."

"I forgive you," you said, your nose nudging his.

"I just wanted you to have better," he whispered.

You deserve the best.

You blinked away the leftover pleasure that lingered in your eyes. "What? You're already the best guy I know, handsome. No one is better than you," you said, the sincerity in your eyes making his heart twist. "I know you'll be the best boyfriend for me."

Thank you.

"Well, as the best boyfriend, I think I owe you one more orgasm before we go," he smirked, his hands roaming your body. "If you're up for it."

"I'll take whatever you give me," you said before you smirked back. "But maybe I should thank Nate since he's the one who got your head out of your ass."

"Don't you fucking dare," he said, kissing you breathless before you could say his name again.

Bucky was your boyfriend now and the only name he wanted to tumble from your beautiful lips was his own. He'd do whatever he could to make that happen. And be the man you deserve.

Natasha watched from the corner of the gym as you and Bucky emerged from the locker room minutes later. You had stars in your eyes and Bucky looked over the moon. Your legs wobbled slightly and the soldier easily slid an arm around your waist to steady you and walk you out. He even threw Nate a smirk and a wink when he got a glimpse of the two of you.

The redhead messaged the group chat for the bet once the two of you were out of sight. "Locker room. I won."

"What? I was so close!" Steve messaged back.

"Cheater!" Sam sent. "I know you got her ex transferred here. Don't deny it."

"I did not get him transferred. I just knew and didn't tell them he'd be here today. I expect my payment at dinner tonight."

The redhead put her phone away as she tried not to smile. Bucky just needed a push and she wasn't afraid to play a little dirty. But she'd keep her word and split the winnings.

The two of you deserved a nice date, after all.

Oh, Bucky. Whatever will we do with you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #beefy!bucky barnes

[romanarose]

Santiago Garcia x sexworker!informant!reader/OC x Javier Peña

Co-written with my beloved @my-secret-shame

Beautiful moodboard by @whatthefishh

“Baby, if you wanna be wild you’ve got a lot to learn.”

~Bruce Springsteen, Candy’s Room

Read on AO3

Summary: Javier Peña is not looking forward to meeting his new partner, having scared of all of them since Steve, but the idealistic, capable (and attractive?) Santiago Garcia quickly wins him over. The pair get assigned to take down Gabriel Lorea, and Javi seeks information from his favorite “informant”, a prostitute known as Candy. She also happens to be who a young and inexperienced (and sexually repressed) Santi goes to in order to learn about sex.

Will he fall in love in the process? Is Javier jealous or is he really just concerned Santi is being reckless like Javi claims? How often is Javi’s inner dialogue gonna talk about how hot he thinks Santi while still calling himself straight?

Warnings (not comprehensive. Given the nature of a fic about sex work and the drug trade in 70’s Colombia use your discretion on the type of content that comes up. Consider this series rated R; Smut heavy, switch reader, sub Santi, rough sex (specifics per chapter), corruption kink. (Reader introducing an innocent Santi to the beautiful world of good sex) and age gaps (reader is early to mid 30’s, Javi is mid to late 30’s, santi is 25) all is v consensual and nothing about taking advantage of Santi’s naivety. Drug trade, some drug use. Some SA, inappropriate touching and threat of rape, physical violence etc on a sex worker but not by our boys. Candy has sex with drug lords and there’s some dubious consent as far as her using sex to pacify these men in dangerous situations. Covert/emotional incest in the past. Emotional incest is NOT sexual incest (necessarily) please read this link if you are unfamiliar. Santi was very parentified as a child. M/M dynamics. Internalized homo/biphobia.

Reader description: Latina given the context of where they are, so there’s descriptions of her tan/dark skin. Reader has long brown curly hair.No name but reader goes by the nn Candy for her own protection and privacy. Scenes from Santi or Javi’s pov are in third person, referring to candy as candy and she/her. Candys POV uses second person but she’s more oc

Chapter 1: Javi meets his new partner, tells him he needs to let off some steam. Santi calls Candy to help him out with that.

Chapter 2: Santi and Javi plan to take on Lorea while Santi thinks back on his night with Candy.

Bonus Chapter: Santi is sick.

Chapter 3: Javi goes to get some 'information' on Lorea and runs into the last person he expected.

Chapter 4: Javi confronts Santi, but Candy has Santi's back.

Chapter 5: Javi and Candy kiss and make up. Javi and Santi make up, no kissing. Santi and Candy kiss.

Bonus chapter: Candy at work

Chapter 6: Santi takes Candy out, and Javi is not pleased. Santi finds a new kink.

Chapter 7: Everything falls apart.

Thank you all for your support on this!!! It means so much!

As always, if this fic inspires art, moodboards, fics, anything of that sort, I welcome all of it!

My ask box is always open for thoughts (or thots 👀)

Candy’s description is Latina, brown curly hair, shorter than Javi, able to be picked up and carried. I picture her like Helena.

This is how I picture her!

#javier peña #Javier Peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #Santiago Garcia #Santiago garcia x resder #fem reader #narcos fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #bisexual Santiago garcia #bisexual Javier Peña

[gerrystamour]

we were tangled up like branches in a flood

Rated M | Steddie Week Day 4: Hurt/Comfort & Familiar | 2300 Words | Complete

Related to i could be honest, i could be human

[ READ ON AO3 ]

There was an ache that lived beneath Eddie’s skin, one that he couldn’t just write off to his healing muscles, the warped and scarred skin of his torso and legs. It was an ache that radiated from somewhere deeper, something that went beyond his flesh and bones. One that he’d only ever felt soothed by physical affection; a ruffle of his hair, a hand cupping his cheek, a pat on the back, a kiss, a tight hug. This is my entry for @steddie-week Day 4: Hurt/Comfort AND familiar! While this is related to my Big Fic, this is readable as a standalone fic I think. CW: Deals with some PTSD, especially the repercussions of physical therapy that isn't very trauma-informed etc. Additionally, there is some mild sexual content at the end!

October 1986

It had been three weeks since Eddie last kissed Steve. Five weeks since they last held hands. Eight since they last cuddled. Fifteen since they last had sex.

There was an ache that lived beneath Eddie’s skin, one that he couldn’t just write off to his healing muscles, the warped and scarred skin of his torso and legs. It was an ache that radiated from somewhere deeper, something that went beyond his flesh and bones. One that he’d only ever felt soothed by physical affection; a ruffle of his hair, a hand cupping his cheek, a pat on the back, a kiss, a tight hug.

Eddie was desperately touch-starved, but he hadn’t been able to get through the latest bout of violent touch-aversion. Physical therapy had been an unrelenting wave of torture over the last few months, spending what added up to hours every week of being manhandled painfully and told to do exercises outside of therapy, then yelled at when it was clear he wasn’t doing them. 

But how was he supposed to do his exercises when he needed help and the sensation of hands on him felt like broken glass and barbed wire?

At least Eddie wasn’t going back to physical therapy for a bit; Steve had seen to that in a very colourful tirade in the waiting room. It had been a week since then, and Eddie was still isolated, keeping himself out of reach, safe from errant touches and dodging grabbing hands. For the most part, all of their friends were great at giving him the space he needed; if anyone was going to touch or grab Eddie, it tended to be people outside of their immediate group.

Steve, naturally, was the best at keeping his distance, which was somehow also worse. The fact that he had gone weeks since Steve even brushed his arm in passing had Eddie spiraling in a really dark place. What was worse, though, was that he could tell Steve was having a hard time with it as well.

Of course, Steve never complained, never even made a face when Eddie dodged him or laid on the furthest side of the bed from him, never pouted or begged or yelled at him. The beautiful, perfect asshole was endlessly patient and supportive, always smiling gently at him and redirecting.

But Eddie could tell. 

It was in the way Steve crossed his arms just a bit tighter over his chest, the way he messed with his own hair every five minutes, how he nervously rubbed his bottom lip. It was in the way Steve never had the bed set up with the wall of pillows down the middle of it, just in case, but was always quick to put them there when Eddie hesitated before laying down.

Eddie sighed and rolled over, resting his head on the pillow set up between him and Steve, his eyes tracing the sleeping features of Steve’s face fondly.

Steve was always handsome, but when he was sleeping, he was softer, sweeter almost. The tight set to his brow smoothed out and his jaw unclenched, and it was moments like that when Eddie was reminded that he was only nineteen.

Just then, Steve shifted in his sleep, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly with a low murmur. It was something he did so often, yet every time Eddie was struck with the desire to kiss him and taste those sleepy words. And fuck, did Eddie want to do that now, desperately in a way that made the ache sharper.

‘Fuck this,’ Eddie thought angrily, and with a deep breath he steeled his nerves and reached across to touch Steve’s cheek. The contact wasn’t as bad as Eddie feared, but it was nauseating nonetheless, so bad that Eddie nearly recoiled immediately. But then Steve released the sweetest, happiest sigh and nuzzled his cheek sleepily into Eddie’s palm.

‘Double fuck this,’ Eddie decided, his brow set with determination as he breathed through the nausea until it passed. He wanted this, he was choosing to do this, this wasn’t like physical therapy. 

Eddie wanted to touch his fucking boyfriend.

Finally, the twist in his gut passed and Eddie sighed, stroking his thumb over Steve’s cheek and relishing the contented sigh he slowly released. Then Steve’s hazel eyes slowly blinked open, and the sleepy smile Steve directed at Eddie brought actual tears to his eyes.

“Hey, baby,” Steve slurred drowsily, turning his face just a bit to kiss Eddie’s palm. That little motion sent a spike through Eddie that was equal parts fondness and pain. Eddie stood fast against the latter.

He wanted this; he was choosing this.

Then Steve reached up to touch him, and Eddie knew that would be too much, just by the way his heart was racing.

“Stop.”

Steve’s hand froze midair before retreating, and he held very still under Eddie’s hand. He was fully awake now and watching Eddie closely, patiently.

“What’s going on, Eds?” he finally asked after several moments of just lying in the bed, staring at each other.

“Trying to get over this,” Eddie said tightly, calming his heart down.

Steve shook his head a bit. “Don’t push your—”

“No, stop, don’t—I’m sick of not holding your hand, Steve. I miss hugging you. I’ve been waiting for it to pass on its own and it’s not, so I’m going to make it pass,” Eddie said determinedly, sliding his hand further back into Steve’s hair. The way his boyfriend shivered and almost melted under the gentle touch made the urge to retreat easier to ignore.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Steve murmured, the concern in his eyes just strengthening Eddie’s resolve.

“I won’t,” Eddie promised, and then he removed the wall of pillows between them. Scooting closer, Eddie slowly and carefully laid one leg across both of Steve’s which was okay. That felt okay.

“What do you need me to do?” Steve asked, his hands resting on his own stomach and fiddling with the hem of his thin t-shirt nervously.

Eddie considered the question for a few moments. “Just… don’t touch me until I ask you to, or put your hand somewhere,” Eddie said before insecurity bubbled up in his chest. “If that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect, Eds, I can do that,” Steve reassured him immediately, lifting his arms above his head to hook his fingers over the headboard.

There was a moment where Eddie felt overwhelmed with his affection for Steve, the deep well of fondness that made his stomach do somersaults, the intense love that nearly brought Eddie to his fucking knees whenever he so much as looked at Steve too long.

Eddie rolled in closer to Steve until he was half sprawled over him, battling the wave of nausea as he was now pressed flush to his boyfriend from shoulder to pelvis. Their faces were so close like that, their breath mingling between them as Eddie worked through the revulsion he felt rising up, even as he wanted nothing more than to close the distance.

‘I want this. I’m choosing this,’ he chanted to himself, and his mind settled, his body relaxing against Steve with a sigh.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve hummed deeply in a way that Eddie felt more than heard, his eyes closed as he waited for Eddie’s next move. When Eddie glanced up at his hands, Steve’s thumbs were stroking the headboard and he was overwhelmed with just how much he wanted those hands on his body. Steve sighed again when Eddie snuggled in tighter, and he said, “you’re doing so well, Eds.”

Something warm and happy burst in Eddie’s chest and he reached up to grab Steve’s wrist, pulling one of his hands to cup his cheek. The touch was hot, jagged, and Eddie barely kept himself from scrambling off the bed. He couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled up, but it was fine. It was okay, it would pass.

He wanted this. He was choosing this.

When the tension left Eddie’s body, Steve asked, “can I kiss you there, Eds?”

“Y-Yeah, yes,” Eddie said, and Steve carefully lifted his hand just enough to kiss his cheek.

With that tender gesture, the dam broke, and Eddie sobbed.

Steve began to pull away and Eddie shook his head quickly. “Hold me,” Eddie begged, tears in his eyes as he curled his fingers into Steve’s shirt.

Without hesitation, Steve’s arms wrapped tightly around Eddie, and even though his body filled with static that hurt, Eddie didn’t want it to end. Somehow, he wanted even more, wanted to be fully enveloped by Steve and squeezed so tight his body would become real and his again. Eddie didn’t realize he was saying all of that out loud until Steve shushed him and kissed his tear-stained cheek softly.

“Can I try something?” Steve asked quietly when Eddie let out a hiccupping sigh.

Eddie sniffled thoughtfully, hesitating. His hesitation had nothing to do with not trusting Steve; Eddie trusted him with his life. Eddie just wanted to be able to brace himself accordingly. “Tell me first?” he asked shakily, melting against Steve’s chest.

“How about we roll so I’m on top of you?” Steve suggested gently, and when Eddie tensed up Steve added, “just to see if it helps, me on top of you I mean, to squeeze you. If you don’t like it, just say so and I’ll get off of you.”

“It might—I dunno if I can do more of this tonight if that backfires, though,” Eddie confessed, more tears welling up at that thought. That he would finally have his boyfriend on top of him, holding him close enough to kiss and bite and taste, but then having to bring back the wall of pillows because they moved too quickly.

“That’s fine, Eds. I’m not expecting anything, so it’s all up to you,” Steve replied warmly, sincerely, sweetly. Eddie sobbed again, overwhelmed with how good Steve was to him.

“O-Okay, let’s try. Just… let me lay down—I need to move myself,” Eddie murmured, rolling onto his back next to Steve and taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You’re doing amazing, Eds,” Steve sighed, rolling onto all-fours above him and looking down. “I was gonna lower myself gradually, or is it better all at once?”

“I think maybe all at once,” Eddie agreed, chewing his lip. “I might—just, if I freak out a bit, just give me a minute, okay? Don’t just jump off of me?”

“But how’ll I know—I don’t want to upset you,” Steve said anxiously, and Eddie sniffled, wiping his tears away.

“If I need you to get off, I’ll say so, okay? But if I’m crying and shit, just give me a bit?” Eddie suggested, and Steve nodded.

“Ready?” he asked, gazing down at Eddie with so much affection, Eddie almost felt shy.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed, and Steve lowered himself so he was lying on top of Eddie, lined up from chest to pelvis, their legs entwined.

Eddie braced himself for the wave of nausea, the freak-out, the sensation of broken glass pressing outward from under his skin.

For a moment, a split-second, Eddie felt it but then Steve’s full weight relaxed on top of him, pressing him into the soft mattress and bringing Eddie back into his body. His mind settled and the static in his head quieted for the first time in weeks, perhaps even months.

“You doing okay, Eds?” Steve asked quietly, unsure, and Eddie let out a small sob and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

“I’m fuckin’ perfect, Stevie,” he laughed, and Steve smiled down at him sweetly.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked gently, and Eddie answered by lifting his head to press their lips together.

The kiss was chaste, just the sweet glide of lips against one another, both of them tearing up as they got lost in the embrace.

Soon enough, Eddie’s hands began to wander, staying above Steve’s clothes—he wasn’t willing to attempt more direct skin contact just yet—but the shift in his mood was obvious. One hand rested on Steve’s hip, half splayed across his ass, and he subconsciously rocked up against him.

Eddie could feel Steve through the layers of both their pajamas, could feel the hard line of him against his hip as Steve shuddered and met Eddie’s movements. They clutched at each other, kissing and pressing, and Eddie whined as he realized that Steve’s hands were not on him.

“Steve, you can—touch my hair?” Eddie mumbled through a moan, and Steve immediately buried his hands in Eddie’s hair. Groaning loudly, Eddie wiggled and felt his release burning just beneath the surface embarrassingly quickly. “Shit, close, Stevie…”

“Same,” Steve moaned, and that did it for Eddie. Knowing that Steve was just as affected, just as needy for relief, just as far gone from some grinding and kissing had Eddie tipping over the edge. Throwing his head back, Eddie sobbed through his release, clutching Steve tightly and holding on for dear life.

It only took a couple more grinding movements before Steve grunted, his hips stuttering as he came. “Eds,” Steve sighed sweetly, and Eddie immediately brought their lips back together.

Eddie doubted this was the end of his issues, and he knew they would have to keep working through it, but for the moment Eddie was able to hold his boyfriend, kiss him, even come with him. 

“I should go get—” Steve started and Eddie’s arms wrapped tighter around him.

“Don’t,” Eddie begged softly. “Not done holding you.”

Steve chuckled at that and nodded, dipping his head to press a soft, sweet kiss to Eddie’s lips. Then he let out a sigh and scooted down a bit to rest his head on Eddie’s chest.

It was perfect, even with how uncomfortable his boxers had become, and Eddie finally felt hopeful. He felt like he could have a life full of love, affection, and gentle touches.

He wanted it, he was choosing it. They were going to be okay.

[ AO3 LINK ]

I hope you enjoyed!! Please consider reblogging!! Taglist! @steddie-there, @patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @steve-harringtits, @mylilplanet, @afewproblems, @xenon-demon, @inairbinad, @matchingbatbites

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddieweekafterdark #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #gerry writes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 17

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, spanking, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

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

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The night sees you in much the same trap as the one before. You’ve appeased Steve. For now. You know deep down, it won’t last. That it won’t be enough. Not in the end.

You sleep in the white satin he chose. He embraces you from behind, his hand cradles your chest as his breath whispers across your scalp. You’re suffocated by his warmth. You don’t move, the only time you’re truly alone is when he’s asleep.

You close your eyes to keep the tear from slipping past. You wiggle your nose as it tingles. The night breeze rustles the tree outside the window and carries the chirps of lively crickets. The song of the night is in disorder just as those that play in your head.

“Middle C,” the order comes and you set your hands just so. “Very good.” Professor Zemo praises as he flicks the metronome into a steady beat, “Begin.”

You hear the melody before your fingers pluck it out. It’s that magical sensation that overtakes you. The way your body moves naturally to create the music. As if it’s a part of you. You smile as you read the music, following along as the world pinpoints to the keys and nothing else.

“Posture,” Zemo squeezes your shoulder.

You fix your position and keep on, not missing a note. His hum underlines your symphony as you proudly play. He stays close by the bench, hand lingering on your sleeve, rubbing the fluttery fabric between his fingertips. You follow the highs and lows until you reach the end, hitting that final key with a flourish.

“You are improving,” he moves to stand behind you, close so that you feel the heat of him radiating around you. His other hand rests upon your second shoulder. “My dear, I must confess you are talented, if not the most talented student I’ve ever taught,” he bends and your skin pricks. What is he doing?

He presses his lips to your crown, “when you play,” he speaks into your hair, “you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

His hands wander down your blouse and he hooks beneath your arms. Your hands tamp down on the keys in surprise, a clatter of ugly notes all at once. He cups your chest through the layers of frills. You don’t know what to do so you do nothing. What can you do? He is your professor.

He pinches a button between his fingers and slowly undoes it, then another, and another. You shiver as he opens the front of your blouse. He stands straight to guide your sleeves down your arms. He steps closer and something hard presses to your back. You put your chin down as your lip trembles.

Coward.

You squeak as your eyes snap open. There is no relief to be found in waking. It’s not a dream but a memory. You feel a squeeze on your chest and your heart leaps into your throat. That speckling flame razes up your neck and across your cheeks. A furor you cannot bear.

You tear Steve’s arm away and push yourself out of the bed. You fall onto the floor, crawling away desperately as panic thrums against your ribs. Your arms shake and you fight not to collapse into a heap.

“Sweetheart,” Steve groans, his deep tones laced with fatigue and confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you stop and turn over, sitting on your bottom, “I just have to pee.”

You don’t move though. You can’t. You sit against the footboard and smother your mouth to keep your shallow breaths quiet.

“Hurry back…” his voice drifts off to a snore.

You shake your head as your eyes sting. You haven’t cried about this in years, so why now? Why do the ghosts have to come back and haunt you?

🌹

A rush of cool air flows over you as the blankets are torn away. Your shallow sleep cracks as you mutter cluelessly and fall onto your back. You squeak as you find Steve staring down at you, a hand planted on the mattress as he leans on one arm. You squeeze your legs together and cross your arms.

He caresses your shoulder, toying with the nightgown’s strap, twisting it as his fingertips brush your skin. Little specks of heat linger as he follows the lacy trim along your chest. You hold in a breath quivering at the intensity of his gaze as it trails his touch.

He pulls your arm away from your chest and the other slips down limply to your side. You’re paralysed. You’re too afraid to resist him as you watch his eyes. They are dark and distant as if possessed.

“You’re so sweet,” he tugs down the soft satin cup. You whimper as he bares half your chest. He cups your tit, fondling you as he groans. His thumb rolls around your nipple and you shiver. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’ve been good.”

He gropes you as he purrs and slides down the bed. He stretches his arm up and lifts himself to his knees. He forces your legs apart and settles between them. His other hand traces along your thigh as he lets out a deep breath.

He kneads your chest as he slowly bends. You’re terrified as his hand crawls beneath the hem of your nightie and inches it up. He spreads out on his stomach, keeping his arm snaked up your torso as he pulls your leg over his shoulder. He bows his head to nuzzle the front of your panties and you twitch.

He hums and squeezes your chest again. A warning. You grab onto his thick arm as he inhales you and presses his nose against the cotton. The vivid ink that stains his skin contrasts with your own. You grip him tighter as he hums, sending a ripple through you.

Your breath hitches as he wiggles his head against you. A damp heat permeates the front of your panties and he tickles you through the fabric with his tongue. His saliva soaks through as he pushes the cotton against your folds, suckling through the layer hungrily.

He traces his fingers down the crease of your leg and drags your panties to the side. His cool tongue meets your hot cunt and you gasp. His nails dig into your skin as he blindly gropes your chest, thumb catching on the slack satin.

You're helpless. Just like before. Too weak to fight. You just let it happen. You wince as the sheets brush against your bruises. What else can you do? He's not hurting you. Yet.

He laps between your folds as your legs quiver. You close your eyes as your grasp drifts down his arm, reaching weakly for his head. You feel completely exposed to him. You want him to stop but the flick of his tongue has you spasming. He swirls around your clit so that a pluck coils in your muscles.

You’re completely disarmed as spreads his tongue wide and tastes you. He slowly drags his tongue up and back down. Your thighs tingle as he seals his lips around your tender bud and the sudden pressure has you writhing. He groans as he uses the tip of his tongue to tease you.

Your back arches as you push your thigh against his head. His beard tickles you, another wave rolling through you. It’s too much and not enough. You want him desperately to stop yet fear that he will. 

You moan and sink your head back in the pillow. Your hips rock as he flutters his fingertips along your ass, adding to the storm of sensation. Shame bubbles with something else. Something hotter. Irresistible.

You cry out as you lose control. As you succumb to him. No, he’s conquered you. You surrender in a spasm of delight, mewling between heavy puffs as you clamp your thighs around his head and twist wildly.

He doesn’t stop. He drinks you in desperately as you cum. He keeps on until you can’t. Your legs splay and your arms fall down limply. You lay quaking and whimpering as he sucks and licks at your cunt. He does so noisily rubbing his beard against your sopping cunt until you whine.

“Please,” you squeal as you reach for him, lifting your head dizzily, “please… Steve…” His eyes flick up as he swipes his tongue around your clit, “sir… I can’t… I can’t take…”

You drop your head back down as your hips jerk. Your voice swells out of you, blooming into moans and drones. You feel it again, the tempo building and building, until you can’t stand it. Your nerves scatter again in a violent chorus that has you clawing at the sheets.

He does not relent. Even as you writhe, even as you push on his head and beg. Please, please, please.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #drabble #drabble series #au #tattoo au #drawn together #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #steve rogers x reader

[amatchinwater]

Collecting Strays / Eddie Munson x fem!reader (adopted Harrington)

Summary: Eddie finds you singing and drawing in the woods alone. He takes it upon himself to invite you to their group. And of course, it takes you all of 3 seconds to develop a crush on him. Go figure.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, oral (female receiving), fingering, drug use, shotgunning

Words: 6464

a/n: I said I had two more ideas and this was one of them...a lot longer than I thought it'd be too. Then again, most of my fics end up like that so I shouldn't be surprised. Feel free to send a request if you'd like (master list)

Not my gif!! Credit to creator!!

“See my lonely life unfold. I see it every day. See my only mind explode. Since I’ve gone a-”

“You listen to Alice Cooper?” A voice startles you where you’re sitting at a picnic bench in the woods singing along to Alice Cooper’s Ballad of Dwight Fry though there’s no music playing. 

You nearly drop your sketchbook to the dirt in your haste to see the owner of the voice. Though the hair rising on the back of your neck can only mean one thing. It’s Eddie Munson. With how loud and zealous he can be in the cafeteria, it’s a wonder you didn’t recognize him immediately. Trying to not show him how much he’d actually scared you out of your own little world, you offer a shrug in response. 

Sitting across from you, he takes his jacket and vest off and opens his metal box, producing a bag of pretzels and offers some to you. You take one with a small smile and a muttered “thanks.” You had forgotten to grab some lunch before you hightailed it out of school. 

“You have a beautiful voice,” Eddie says, your brain short circuiting at the way his finger bumps his bottom lip putting a pretzel between his teeth. He’s ridiculously attractive and you’re not fucking blind. Seeing him in Mrs. O'Donnell's class and during lunch is enough to make your heart ache. But jesus, seeing that is something else. “You should come play with us sometime. I’m sure the guys would love to hear you sing.” 

Picking your pencil up, you snort, “yeah, right,” and continue to draw quietly.

Eddie doesn’t seem ready to be done with the conversation. “So what’s a Harrington doing out here all alone during lunch? Isn’t it kind of in your blood to be the center of attention?” He teases, but the smile on his face is soft. 

“I’m adopted,” you snark with a huff, erasing the same curved line of an eyeball that’s been annoying you for over ten minutes now. But Eddie just giggles at your response, actually giggles and it’s music to your damn ears. Just because Steve is your brother, doesn’t mean that you have his charismatic nature. You don’t really have a whole lot of friends. But Eddie is being nice to you and when you look up, he’s offering you half a sandwich. “I’m not taking your lunch, Eddie.” 

“Unless you’re drawing yourself some food over there, I don’t see a meal out here with you,” he dangles it towards you, “I’d feel better if you took it.” You narrow your eyes at him, hesitant about his kindness. “Please,” Eddie smiles again, “I’m getting pizza later tonight with the club, I won’t go hungry if you share with me. Unlike you with no food. Thank you,” he says after you take the offered food. “So, why are you out here by yourself?” 

Stifling the snarky retort that he too came out here alone, you sigh, “peace and quiet. People kind of suck. Their expectations of me to be a mini Steve can be suffocating.” 

“Shit, sorry,” he winces. 

“Not your fault,” you shake your head, covering your mouth around a bite of ham and cheese. “It comes with the name. Always has. I’m glad Steve isn’t Mr. Popularity anymore, but for some reason everyone thinks I should be. But I’m just,” you gesture wildly, “not. I mean,” you scoff a laugh, “I’m out here in the woods alone, singing, and drawing. That’s not exactly prom queen behavior.” 

Neither are your ripped jeans, tight black tee, and dark eyeliner either. 

Suddenly, Eddie hops up from the other bench and you think he’s done entertaining you. Until he plops down beside you, bumping your arm with his, “what are you drawing?” He peers over your shoulder, curiosity furrowing his brow. 

Biting your lip, you contemplate just not showing him. No one has ever been genuinely interested in your art. Not when ‘nerdy things’ are your focus. But Eddie is being nice and talking to you and he’s a lot sweeter than you’d pegged him for based on what you’ve seen in the cafeteria. Finally getting the eye the way you wanted it to look you turn the book so he can see, “this.” 

“Whoa,” Eddie tosses his half eaten sandwich on the baggie and wipes his hands on his jeans. “Can I?” He asks, reaching for the sketchbook. You nod, handing it over. Excitement lifts his features, Eddie’s eyes darting over your drawing. “This kind of looks like-”

“Gollum,” you interrupt. Not wanting to hear monster, or gremlin, or stupid, or the many number of things people call your artwork. “It’s supposed to be Gollum. At least, that’s how I picture him based on the description.” 

“Color me impressed.” 

“Why?”

“You not only listen to Alice Cooper, but you know him well enough to sing from memory,” Eddie drags his gaze from the picture. “But you also know Lord of the Rings enough to draw Gollum exactly how I see him too. Y/N, this is fucking awesome!” 

Your cheeks burn scarlet. No one has ever recognized your art for what it’s meant to be. No one. And here’s Eddie saying that he knows exactly what you’re drawing and loves it. “Thanks,” you whisper so softly because shock constricts your vocal cords. 

Eddie flips to prior pages, “have you done any other- Jesus Christ! You drew Sauron?!” He looks back at you with a stunning smile. “Do you have any other hidden talents I should know about?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you duck your head to hide your reddening blush. You’ve always found Eddie attractive, but were way too intimidated to ever actually try and have a conversation with him. And here he is making it seem effortless. 

In the distance the bell rings signaling lunch’s end. “I have a proposition for you,” Eddie’s shoulder sway side to side making you giggle. “Well, two, if you’re up for it.” 

“Okay?”

“For one, no more sitting out here by yourself.” When your face scrunches, he presses on, “sit with us at lunch. You can still draw without scrutiny. And if you want to sing where no one can hear you, I’ll come sit with you. But you shouldn’t be in the woods alone. We might be a bunch of misfits, but we’re pretty good friends when given the chance.” 

“You have a habit of collecting strays, don’t you?” He nods happily at you. “Okay, yeah,” you smile, actually excited about the prospect of being friends with Eddie. You can handle being friends with someone as attractive as him without fucking it up to catastrophic proportions. Maybe. “And the other?”

He gives you back your sketchbook, tapping the open page, “come to Hellfire tonight. Bring this with you. If you can draw this well from description alone,” Eddie beams at you, eyes glazing over, “I’d love to see what you could do with our characters from D&D. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to, but I’d totally teach you if you did,” his ring clad fingers scratch at his jaw and you track the movement. “I don’t know, I just think it’d be fun.” 

“Yeah,” you smile brightly, “yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Yeah?” Eddie looks at you in surprise. When you nod, his lips pull into a wide grin and he drums the table. Jumping up, he pumps his fist, “hell yeah! I’ll meet you at your locker after school so I can show you where the room is. “This is gonna be sick!” Eddie gently grabs both sides of your face, kissing the top of your head, “you won’t regret this, Harrington, I promise!” 

---

When the end bell rings for your last class, you head to your locker, finding Eddie already there waiting for you. Leaning against the metal door, his eyes light up when he sees you and he wiggles his fingers in a wave. For just a moment, your gremlin brain fixates on the action, wondering what his fingers would feel like against you. Mentally slapping yourself for even thinking that in the first place. Your first legitimate conversation was literally three hours ago and you’re already fantasizing about him. 

Maybe this is a bad idea. You still haven’t recovered from him kissing your head and now you’re about to spend the next few hours with him and his friends and you’re fucking terrified. Nerves settle like a massive rock in your gut, making your hands clammy. How did you go from watching him from afar to a full blown crush fantasizing about him in such a short time? You are so incredibly screwed. Calling this off sounds like a really good idea. 

“There’s my beautiful artiste with the voice of an angel,” Eddie greets you, sliding off your locker for you to put your books away. 

His- his beautiful- his? “Hey, Eddie,” your mouth manages to supply proper words while your brain hasn’t recovered from its record scratch. It’s trying very hard to do so, but it’s revolving around Eddie saying my and not the. And beautiful. Eddie just called you fucking beautiful. To your face!

“You okay?” His dark brows pinch together in concern.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, rolling your shoulders when you close your locker. “Guess I’m just a little nervous,” you admit. 

And it’s the truth. It’s not just being around Eddie that’s making your anxiety peak. You’ve seen the club at lunch. How rowdy they can get. How tightly knit they seem. Not too keen on outsiders just barreling onto the scene. For the first time in your life, as someone who doesn’t mind being alone, you find yourself worried you won’t be accepted. You’re not so sure you like this foreign feeling. 

“Please,” Eddie scoffs, slinging his arm around your shoulder, “they’re going to love you.” Is he always this tactile with his friends and you just never noticed? He leads you through the hallway, stopping at a door marked Extra Curriculars. “Besides, I’m the Dungeon Master, if anyone can just bring someone in, it’s me. They won’t even question you’re there, angel.” 

A blush burns your cheeks at the name and you clutch your sketchbook a little closer to your chest in hopes to hide its pounding. You can only nod with a pinched smile. Had you tried to actually speak, it would’ve been through stuttered words and squeaked syllables. Not in this lifetime. 

Eddie pushes open the door with a flourish, arm still around your shoulder as you both enter the room to a table full of waiting people. Dustin, Mike, and Erica you recognize instantly. After fighting Demogorgons with two and being trapped in a Russian elevator with the other, it’s hard to forget them. It’s why you don’t mind being alone as much. You know what could be out there and absolutely know how to protect yourself from it. But not even spawns of the Upside Down made you this anxious. Ready to throw up from everyone’s confused and inquisitive looks. 

“Finally land yourself a girlfriend?” Dustin quips, braces flashing as he grins. 

“Not yet, Henderson,” Eddie says, keeping his arm around you, walking you closer to the table. 

Survival seems less and less likely as the seconds drag on. Not yet. That’s a perfectly normal response for someone to have. No, he hasn’t found a girlfriend yet. But you can’t help but think, maybe even hope since your heart decided to skip about three steps, that he meant you aren’t his girlfriend yet. You might actually slap yourself for that thought when you get home later and not settle for the mental one you’re giving yourself now. 

“I’m sure you all know Harrington’s sister,” Eddie gestures at you, “you’ve mentioned her before, Henderson.” What is it with him and last names? 

“Because she’s fucking awesome,” Dustin says like it’s obvious. 

A laugh tickles the back of your throat. Like your brother, you too have a soft spot for the younger teen. He really is a good kid, just trying to survive like the rest of you. Knowing all too well the things that really go bump in the night. “You’re damn right,” you point at Dustin, feeling a little more at ease. More willing to be yourself. 

Eddie appears to be okay with it if his wondrous, almost proud, smile is anything to go by. “I had them all make a second character sheet for you to go off of. If you have any questions, feel free to ask, angel.” 

No one in the room but you seems to be affected by the name. 

“Great,” you smile, curling out from under his arm to grab the stack of papers one of the boys offers you. 

“Shit,” Eddie looks around the table, seeing there isn’t an extra chair aside from an empty throne to sit in. Which you’re assuming is where he sits. “I can read standing up,” he shrugs, “take a seat, angel.”

“Are you serious?” Mike nearly shrieks, the others at the table sharing in his shock. 

“I’m not taking your seat, Eddie,” you say, feeling like it’s the picnic table all over again. 

Eddie sighs, coming over to grab you by your shoulders and gently nudge you towards the chair, “I can sit on the armrest if standing gets annoying,” he argues. 

“I can sit on the armrest,” you fire back, doing just that. Placing your sketchbook in your lap, the character sheets tucked between the pages so they don’t scatter. “See? Perfectly fine. Now you can keep your throne.” 

“I can’t believe he was going to let her sit in his throne,” you hear Dustin whisper while Eddie narrows his eyes at you with a sly grin. 

Pointing at you, Eddie’s grin widens, “you win this time, angel. But don’t expect that to happen every time.” 

Warmth washes over your heart and tingles shoot down your spine with every use of the pet name. The logical part of your brain reasons that it’s because he said you had the voice of an angel. And knowing that you don’t want to be seen as your brother, probably chooses to call you that instead of your last name like the others. It’s not a term of endearment. There’s no way. 

When Eddie sits in the seat of his throne to start their game, you get to work on the first characters. Erica’s. You have no idea what a kukri is, but you can’t wait to figure it out. It’s surprising that their outbursts, both angry and excited, don’t startle you and make you mess up. You actually feel at ease, free to work on your art surrounded by some really great people. 

Well, you thought you were at ease. Until the group huddles at the other end of the table to hash out their plan of attack. Their quick, hushed tones become mute to your ears when a hand snakes around your waist. You freeze for a second, taking a peak at Eddie from the corner of your eye. 

The pointer of his free hand is rubbing under his lip, eyes flicking to you, a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth. Your insides are screaming, but your body settles into the contact. When it does, Eddie’s thumb traces small circles through your shirt and you bite away a smile. Eddie hides his own behind his hand with a quiet, breathy chuckle. Like he was hoping you’d allow him this. 

What the actual fuck are you doing?

---

As promised, the next day, you make your way to the Hellfire Club’s lunch table, cradling your sketchbook and lunch to your chest. You brought from home today so there would be no chance of you forgetting to eat again. The only empty chair is at the other end of the table and you’re thankful for that. You can still be here like Eddie asked and also have your distance. You’re all kinds of a mess mentally and emotionally over yesterday, you simply don’t know what to do with yourself. 

Eddie looks at you funny once you’re seated, “um, no,” he states, getting out of his chair. “I don’t think so,” Eddie rounds the table, grabbing the back of your chair and dragging it to the head of the table beside his. 

“Ed- Eddie!” You squawk, trying to clutch the table to no use, the metal legs screeching through their movement. You allow yourself two seconds to marvel at Eddie’s strength to be able to just drag you like you weigh nothing. The only thing you were able to grab was the paper bag containing your lunch. Your sketchbook lies teetering off the edge of the table where you were sitting. 

“Much better,” he says, slinging his arm over your shoulder, “making friends, remember?” Eddie motions with two fingers at Gareth, “hand it over.” The boy immediately grabs your sketchbook before it can fall, passing it down to Jeff for Eddie to give back to you. “So, Friday before spring break, any plans, angel?” 

You’re still coming back from his arm being around you again that you barely processed his question. At least your mouth seemed to be paying attention, offering, “no plans. Tonight or for break.” It’s really nice that your mouth remembers how to function when your brain doesn’t. 

“You should come hang out,” Eddie offers, “I was gonna rent Cat’s Eye and Nightmare on Elm street, if you’re up for a horror night. I’ll drive you.” He rests his head on his extended arm to look at you, your heart stuttering in your chest. 

“I-”

“Horror night?” Dustin perks up in excitement. “Will you bring your caramel corn?”

“I asked her,” Eddie gives the younger teen a glare, silencing him. 

Eddie asked you, you, to hang out alone with him for a movie night. Be still your fucking heart, please! Leaning back in your chair and subsequently his arm, you allow a genuine smile to grace your features. “I love Stephen King. Throw in Carrie and The Shining and I’m in.” 

“You allowed to stay out that late, angel?” Eddie asks you with the cutest face of teasing disbelief. 

You snort, “Steve was allowed to come home at two in the morning drunk off his ass. I doubt they’d even be bothered if I didn’t come back till the next morning.” You clamp your mouth shut at the surprise on his face. Not to mention your suggestive remark. “N-not that I assume I’d stay the night, I’m just- no, they wouldn’t mind if I came home that late.” 

The lines on Eddie’s face tighten in a breathtaking grin, “easy, angel,” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind either way. Four movies is a lot, I might pass out first.” You laugh at his comment, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. Eddie leans in to whisper, “caramel corn?”

You laugh again, “stop by the store on the way to your house and I can make some.” 

---

Making your, as Dustin would call it, infamous caramel corn in Eddie’s trailer was a commodity to you. He sat there watching you the entire time you were making the caramel on the stove, offering help and asking all sorts of questions. Claiming that if it was as delicious as it was claimed to be, he’d want to be able to make it in your absence. You shocked yourself telling him that whenever he wants more, to just let you know and you’ll happily make it for him. 

The smile that response gave you was totally worth the knots in your stomach for having said it. After dutifully making the popcorn like you’d asked, Eddie brings the bowl over for you to pour the now slightly cooled caramel over. Mixing until it’s evenly distributed, you hand slide the bowl across the counter to him, waiting with perfect patience.

No, it’s not. You find yourself seeking his approval on the treat that you’re actually staring at him while biting your thumb nail. 

Picking up a piece, he pops it in his mouth. Groaning once he chews it, “oh, angel,” Eddie grins around his bite. “I’m never eating regular popcorn again. This is fucking delicious,” he sucks the caramel off his fingers and you fight the urge to salivate. 

What is it with his fucking fingers?

“I’m glad you like it,” you duck your head to hide the wide smile from his praise, following him back in the living room to watch your first movie. Sitting on the couch beside him, you mildly regret having worn a skirt today because in order to be comfortable you have to tuck your legs underneath yourself. Meaning either your knees or your feet are going to be pressed against his thigh. 

Eddie doesn’t seem to care in the slightest when your knee bumps against him as you settle yourself on the cushion. “Do you smoke?” He asks, reaching under the couch for a small, metal tin. 

“I’ve never tried,” you shrug.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Eddie’s hand falters on opening the tin, “we have four movies to get through, I’ll be sober enough to drive you home later. Unless you wanted to stay over like you’d said.” 

“It doesn’t bother me, Eddie,” you smile at him. Which you don’t. At all. You’re also a guest in his home. He should feel comfortable enough to act no different than he would if he were home alone. That’s the point of home. Comfortability. “Depends on how tired I am after the third movie. But yeah,” you fiddle with your fingers, “I don’t mind staying if you don’t.” 

“Fine by me, angel,” Eddie’s lips curl at the corners sweetly as he hits play on the remote, starting Nightmare on Elm Street. You can’t help but watch in curiosity as he puts a joint- just because you don’t partake, doesn’t mean you don’t know- between his lips and lights the end. You honestly can’t help but stare at him, watching the smoke lazily spill from his mouth before he inhales it through his nose.

You’re surprised that it doesn't make him sneeze. It has to tickle. But then you realize that he must have been doing this for long enough that he probably doesn’t even notice anymore. But you’re transfixed by how it actually looks kind of elegant. You’re not even watching the girl on screen running through the halls, only Eddie. He does the inhale again.

Then your brain seems to stage a mutiny on you, saying, "it's very pretty when you do that." Your cheeks burn realizing you’ve just called him pretty by proxy. “S-sorry,” you stammer out at the wide eyes he gives you. 

But Eddie just giggles at you, “you don’t have to apologize, angel.” Your own eyes must widen seeing the embers flare up as he takes another hit. Something he notices because he extends the joint towards you, “do you want to try it? I won’t pressure you or anything, it’s totally up to you. But you are safe here and I’ll keep an eye on you. And you’re staying over, so you don’t have to worry about your parents either.”

Considering his words and actually feeling safe with him, you take the rolled paper in your fingers, eyeing it warily. “H-how do I…” you trail off, not wanting to seem like an idiot. 

Placing the half empty bowl on the floor in front of him, Eddie turns to face you on the couch, “for your first time, it’ll probably be easier to inhale a little into your mouth and then properly pull it into your lungs. Hold it in until it starts to tickle the back of your throat and then exhale it.” Eddie flashes a sly grin, “I promise not to laugh at you if you cough. It’s pretty normal for the first couple times. I did, we all do, don’t fight it.” 

Taking his advice, you do exactly as you’re told. Pulling some of the harsh smoke into your mouth before fully inhaling it into your lungs. The intrusive substance burns on its way, you fight the cough, holding your breath for a moment. But it’s a moment too soon because you fought it and took a much bigger hit than you thought. So you cough the smoke out with a laugh at Eddie’s playful eye roll.

“I said don’t fight it, angel,” he gently teases you. “That was also a lot.”

“It was like immediate,” you say in defense, still sputtering smaller coughs until the sting goes away. “Can I try again?” 

Eddie’s tongue darts across his lip, “actually, I have a better idea. Let me see it,” he reaches for the joint. “Do you know what a shotgun inhale is?” You shake your head, already feeling slight effects from the hit you took. “Basically, I take a hit and hold it in my mouth and then breathe it into yours. You pull it straight to your lungs. It should make it less harsh for you.” 

You should say no. You one hundred percent do not trust yourself not to act like a fool with his mouth that close to yours. But clearly the weed you’ve already ingested doesn’t give a single fuck as you mutter, “yeah, okay.” 

With a smile, Eddie adjusts himself until he’s kneeling on the couch and you follow suit. Watching him put the joint to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours as he inhales. Pulling the rolled paper away, he leans closer, cupping the side of your face to keep you still. Blush burns your cheeks when your mouth opens and your bottom lip bumps his as you inhale the smoke. Your eyes flutter closed as you hold your breath for a tick. 

Opening them when you exhale, seeing Eddie take a proper hit for himself. “Better?” He asks around the smoke trailing from his lips. 

A giggle bubbles in your chest, ears burning along with your cheeks, “much. I might only be able to hit it like that from now on,” you tease, sounding nothing like yourself. But it’s nice. The way the weed makes you feel physically and mentally. Not as embarrassed to say what’s on your mind. 

“Not everyone will be willing to do that, angel,” Eddie’s eyes darken with something you’ve never seen before.

You cock your head to the side, scrunching your face in confusion, “why not?” 

He seems to contemplate his words for a second, looking at his lap while tapping his finger along his thigh. “I could tell you,” Eddie’s eyes snap to yours, “but would you let me show you?” Not having the slightest clue as to what he could mean, but trusting him implicitly, you nod with furrowed brows. “Fuck, okay,” he breathes out, “know you can totally push me away.” 

That does nothing in the way of clearing your confusion, but you nod once more, patiently waiting. You watch him inhale again and set the joint in an ashtray on the small table. Cupping the side of your face again, Eddie leans in. But when your mouth opens to accept the smoke, you’re met with his lips pressing against yours, tongues lacing together as the smoke travels between you two. 

It’s making you dizzy in the best way possible. Your fingers curl into his raglan, a small moan escaping your throat as you pull him closer. Quickly enough that he stumbles a bit and your back hits the cushion, him falling on top of you. You kiss him until your lungs burn, begging for proper oxygen.

“You didn’t push me away,” his thumb rubs your cheek, smiling at you from where he’s now on top of you. 

“Why would I?” You ask in a small voice, breathless from the kiss. The weed. Being this fucking close to Eddie. Just, everything going on. 

Features twisting in a way your high mind can’t put a finger on, Eddie says, “because I’m the ‘Freak of Hawkins High’, remember? The satanic monster everyone likes to take a dig at.” 

“You’re not a freak to me,” you say softly, grateful that despite his tone, he hasn’t made an effort to get off of you. “Eddie, I-” you brush some of his hair out of his face, “I like you. No matter what anyone else says about you. I don’t care.” 

Eddie smiles widely, eyes crinkling before he slams his mouth to yours again. “I was really hoping you’d say that,” he brushes his nose with yours, causing a fit of giggles from you. “I like you too, angel. Ever since you walked through those doors freshman year. I just never thought a Harrington would want anything to do with me, so I kept to myself.” 

“Well this Harrington wants a lot to do with you, Eddie.” 

“Good,” is all the response you get before suddenly Eddie is off the couch, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You squeal when his palm hits your ass. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough that the sting shoots a wave of pleasure through you. No one’s ever done that to you before. But you’re definitely not complaining. Kicking his door open, you’re tossed on his bed. 

Except he doesn’t just throw  himself on top of you like you’re expecting. Instead he just watches you, ring adorned hand covering an obvious smile while you try to fix your skirt. Puffing strands of hair from your face you look at him with faux annoyance, “was there a purpose for that?” 

“Sorry,” Eddie chuckles behind his hand. Rubbing his jaw, he drops it, but you notice the way his fingers twitch at his sides. Wanting to do something, but being forced to stay still. “Got a little carried away. Probably should’ve asked first. Liking me and wanting me to take you to bed are two different things. But I just- I find it hard to control myself.” His words are sweet, but his eyes are blown and glazed, locked on where your skirt is still half up your thigh.

If you were bold enough, you’d shift your leg for him to see the lace underwear you’re wearing. Just to see if you can get the control to snap again. “You haven’t done anything I’ve said no to,” your voice sounds sultrier than you’ve ever heard before. Where this confidence came from, you’re not sure. But you want to be confident for him. “I know that if I were to tell you to stop, you would.” 

“Promise?”

You look at him confused, “promise what?” 

“That if you want me to stop, you’ll tell me?” Eddie turns away from you, looking at his cassette player, seeming ready to pace. “Because if I don’t hear stop, I don’t think I could, angel. And I won’t hurt you,” he shakes his head, not seeing you get to your feet right behind him.

“Eddie,” you snap a bit, only to get his attention. 

He whips around to face you with a quipped, “yeah?” Eddie’s eyes widen seeing you close so suddenly. “Oh-” his words are cut off by your mouth crashing to his, clutching the sides of his face. Eddie’s arms wrap around the small of your back and when they do you lead him back towards his bed until your calves hit and you stumble onto the mattress.

A soft moan escapes your lips finally feeling his weight on you properly, legs spreading for his hips to settle into. Your pussy throbs at the feeling of the restricted denim of his jeans grinding against you, dampening your panties. 

“This is okay?” He whispers against your mouth, hands gently squeezing at your waist.

Whoever gave Eddie a reason to feel this doubtful of himself, you’re going to find them and punch them. “More than okay my fearless dungeon master,” you smirk, trying to appeal to his interests in hopes it will snap him out of whatever mental block he has going on. Whatever will make him come back to the guy who drags your chair just so you can sit next to him with his arm over your shoulder. 

It seems to have more of an effect on Eddie than you expected. He lets out a strangled noise, “you say that again and this is gonna be over before it starts.” Eddie leans in to kiss you again, but pulls back, pointing a finger in your face, “don’t say it again. I’m not done with you yet. And I will not be held responsible for what happens if you do.”

You bite your lip, very badly wanting to say it again just to see the full extent of what he means. But you behave, zipping your lip, earning you a smile. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs and you shiver under his praise. Eddie presses his lips to yours hard, bruisingly claiming your mouth as his own. Trailing his kisses down your jaw, you moan when Eddie nips at your neck just this side of leaving a mark. You really hope he does. You have enough makeup at home to hide it if it’s too bad, but honestly you’re far from caring. 

Wanting everyone to know that Eddie was the one who took care of you. Was willing enough to mark you as his for everyone to see. His hands squeeze at your breasts, palming the plump flesh beneath your thin shirt. Curling his fingers in the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes and you nod, gripping his shoulders to make sure this is real. That this is actually happening and you didn’t just fall asleep on the couch. But Eddie’s more than real, lifting our shirt up, exposing your bare chest because you didn’t care for a bra today. 

His warm, wet mouth engulfs one of your nipples and you keen, back arching into the contact in desperate need for more as your panties begin to soak. Your pussy aching for anything he’s willing to give you. A breathy, “Eddie,” moans past your lips as he offers your other boob the same treatment. It’s hot all over and he’s done practically nothing. But you need, “more.” 

Eddie chuckles against your skin, continuing his trail of kisses towards the waistband of your skirt. “Whatever you want, angel,” he pulls at the fabric with his teeth, dark eyes locking onto your face. Another assurance.

“Please,” you whisper, looking down at him with hooded eyes. 

Finding the side zipper, Eddie pulls it down, your skirt after. His breath hitches in his throat at the black lace of your now soaked underwear. Anticipation heaving your chest, only worsening when he places kisses and bites on your thighs. You lift your hips, a clear sign for him to keep going. A devilish smile flickers before his fingers tentatively curl in your panties, pulling them down and off your ankles. Discarding them who cares where. He could keep the damn things for all you care. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he muses in adoration, one finger tracing from your clit down through your slick folds. “This all for me, angel?” Eddie asks, curling his finger to gather your juices, bringing the glistening digit to his lips. You nod, not trusting your voice as just a soft whine pushes through. He sucks the finger into his mouth, letting it go with a loud pop, “mmm, delicious,” he groans, “can I?” Eddie leans towards your dripping cunt, grin curling at the edge of his mouth. 

“Fuck, Eds, please.” 

He licks a long stripe up your folds and you damn near convulse at the heat, letting out a loud moan when he does it again. Over and over. Slowly, teasingly licking your cunt as if he could savor the taste that way. Eddie’s tongue dips inside and you’re done for. Fingers curling in his hair making him groan and his control snap. Finally eating you out like you need, like you crave. Making the coil of your orgasm wind tightly inside you. 

Not once has anyone made you come from their mouth alone and Eddie has you ready to explode. His nose brushes against your clit while he licks and sucks your folds until you’re sure you’re going to scream. And you do. Your orgasm slamming into you and you cry out, Eddie moaning- he fucking moans- as you gush on his face. Lapping every ounce of your juices. 

Placing a kiss on your throbbing pussy, Eddie lets you come back down from the high, your toes tingling with the aftershocks. He rubs your shaking thighs, “okay, angel?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammer out, not having caught your breath just yet. 

“Do you want more?” Eddie’s grin turns mischievous. “Or have you had enough? I don’t have any condoms, but I will absolutely get some if you want to do this again.” 

“Again, yes, please,” you babble, never wanting to stop being with Eddie. Wanting to reassure him that you’re serious. But Jesus Christ, this man has fried your brain cells with one simple orgasm. “Do whatever you want, Eds. Whenever you want. I’m yours. Just please, touch me, please.” 

Eddie smiles in earnest, sucking a mark on your thigh to hide it. He brings his fingers to your mouth, “get them wet, angel,” he coos. You suck his fingers into your mouth, the cold metal of his rings warming from the heat and you moan. Satisfied with their slickness, Eddie pulls them out, rubbing them around your folds before pushing inside knuckle deep. 

You cry out, suddenly being full, surprised that his rings don’t hurt or even sting. If anything, it just adds to your pleasure. Thrusting his fingers, they curl, hitting the bundle of nerves that makes your eyes roll back and a throaty moan escape your lips. "That's it," arousal in his tone, "sing for me, angel." Eddie’s mouth claims your clit, licking and sucking until you’re sure you’re going to black out.

Another orgasm crashes into you, wave after wave washing over you and Eddie works you through it. Slowing the thrusts of his fingers and gentling his tongue before eventually ceasing and pulling his fingers out. Wiping his mouth, Eddie sucks his fingers clean, grinning as he does. He lays down beside you, flopping on his back, putting his hard cock still trapped in his jeans on display. 

“What about you?” You pout, not wanting him to go without. Not after what he just did for you.

Eddie chuckles, pulling you to his chest, “give me like twenty minutes and I’ll be sober enough to drive and get condoms. If you’re cool with that.”

“Yes, please! Do that,” you nod wildly, relishing in the laugh that vibrates beside your head. 

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #Match Writes

[sailing-through-hawkins]

thrilled to share my piece for the @steddiebang!!!

working on this was a lot of fun, not to mention working with @thidwickdoodles, and @bonitabreezy wrote just a beautiful fic, Ready to Grow Young Again is out, that you should absolutely read!!!

Summary: As a baby, Steve Harrington is gifted a ragdoll. Were he to ask, no one would remember who exactly gifted it, but Steve doesn't ask. Eddie is his best friend, his partner in crime. Eddie is always there for him. As Steve grows older, Eddie becomes more than just a doll to him. He's a personality, a force of nature. He lets Steve cry on his shoulder and protects him from nightmares. No one else seems to notice that Eddie can speak and move and grow larger in a way a doll shouldn't. But why would that matter? Everyone has an imaginary friend.

#steddie #steddie big bang #steddiebang23 #eddie munson #steve harrington #art #sailor✧draws #au content #fanfic